it’s coming up to three months. i miss my girlfriend so much. I have achieved a few things since she passed and i just wish i could share them with her cause i know she’d be proud. I have so many things to tell her that she would’ve found funny too:( poetry has always been my hobby. And it’s also a way i find a little bit of peace when i’m trying to manage my emotions. This is my most recent poem. I’m sorry for anyone that has become a part of this group💔. I wrote this last night when i was breaking down and just missing her so deeply. I wanted to share it.
a flame burns brightest at the smallest wick
zero signs, no warnings. she is gone, tomorrow, the next day & forevermore. i can’t remember a time she wasn’t smiling, her smile is permanently tattooed in my brain. i simply don’t remember looking at her, and not seeing a grin that ran from her left ear to her right ear. She was a beacon of light, she was a complete breath of fresh air. The same sort of air you’d expect to fill your lungs with at a tranquil lake in sweeden, no signs of pollution, 100% purified air. I always felt lighter after breathing her air. In fact, i even dreamed of being even half as pure as her one day. However i was wrong, everyone was so so wrong. we all misjudged this so called “pure” air it was only ever pure in our heads, and in our minds. But in reality she was choking, coughing and spluttering. gasping for air, air she didn’t believe she deserved. even if she was granted oxygen tents, inhalers, and all the air on earth she would still believe she didn’t deserve to breathe, to live. She didn’t even realise she helped so many people, just by existing, with her radiance and pure grace. She allowed us all to breathe clearly. behind the greatest smiles lies the most pain, she was desperate to tell me she hadn’t felt so “complete” for ages and just like that she was gone, never to be seen again. A flame burns the brightest at its smallest wick.

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.

I was blessed to be raised in a Finnish Apostalic Lutheran Church. I was taught the essence of the Christian faith at a very young age. One of the first things I remember is the song Jesus Loves Me. This wonderful hymn was written by Anna Bartlett Warner as a poem to a dying child in America in 1859, and was based on 1 Cor 6:19. It is the most popular world wide Christian hymn of all time. The hymn says it all. Jesus loves me and He wants me to love Him, and be His Child forever. "And if I love Him when I die, He will take me home on high". This is the simple essence of the Christian Faith and supersedes all the man made walls that try to separate those who love Jesus, no matter the sign on the church door. All the other stuff is nonsense without the love of Jesus in your heart. Ask in prayer and receive. Matt 7:7

About this ebook My love for writing came from poetry at a very young age, I felt at the time that poetry was like art, a power of self-expression. I have always felt like a freak of nature, walking around in a world with knowledge of this gift inside me that I knew that I could not tell or talk about to anyone because I agreed to protect my mind from such darkness. Although through the years as I grew older, life had other plans for me and through all the hardships, trials and tribulations, my writing this gift of self-release from my own mind and the world around me, poetry I found myself becoming peaceful, it was a voice that I never knew I had.
Growing up I never really had a voice, I had a voice when it came to talk about problems or whatever it was, but my tongue has always been tied when it came down to my mind and heart and the knowledge that I kept hidden, hiding my gifts. As the years rolled by my poetry became more about saving myself from the darkness opposed to how it could maybe help someone else or maybe it was for both.
For years, I have been lost wandering around waiting for a sign of when I can spill the beans, when I can release this burden that has cost me everything and everyone I loved and that it almost cost me my soul.
Then one day, I knew, this light came on and I heard the universe call to me, I had visions for weeks, then I turned my writing into something that I can share with everyone, to ease the burden that I have been carrying around. So, my writing became my voice, the only voice I had and still have.
Most of these poems are from the time when I was growing up, how I viewed the world around me, and from the life times of trials and tribulations, and traumas that happened in my life growing up and through my adult life. I share this e-book with you in the hope that it does help someone else there to know that they are not alone and that you can do the impossible and get up off your knees, as tomorrow is a better and brighter day.
I hope that you enjoy this poem and hope that in some way you may relate to it and know that you are not alone.

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General
I am looking for a lady between 28 and 35 years old, for a committed monogamous childfree relationship. My goal is to become a true team, supporting each other, caring for each other, nurturing each other and helping each other grow and realise our goals and dreams as much as possible. I'm hoping to find someone that values a relationship as much as I do and takes it seriously. It's not the only thing my life revolves around, but it's also not just something 'nice to have' for me.
I tried to be as concise as possible while still providing what details I think are crucial to know; I realise this post turned out very long, but I prefer those because I can get as good an idea as possible with detailed descriptions, bar actually talking to the person, and find that very valuable, so if that also applies to you, that would be awesome.
Basics
I am 186cm tall, slim/fit built, dark brown hair, brown eyes. Both my arms are tattooed (full sleeve), as are my calves and the areas above my ankles. Regarding pictures see below. I am a runner (ranging from 5k to full marathon), training multiple times a week. I'm also vegan. My love languages are physical touch and words of affirmation. While I am mostly securely attached, withdrawing from me triggers anxiety and I have made a horrible experience with a fearful avoidant partner in the past, so that is something I fear I cannot deal with again.
I am also an atheist.
I am a very warm, soft and sensitive person, I think I am humorous, I am self reflecting a lot and I can also be really passionate and romantic. Those are traits that also are really important to me in a woman.
I can be quite social, I am a good talker, but also love to listen to really get to know someone on a deeper level. I can enjoy an evening out with friends just as much as the silence of sitting at the shores of the river and watching the sunset in solitude (although I've been craving to watch it together with a partner for a really long time now). I can be out in a pub, at a rave, a metal show or in the stadium watching football and have the time of my life, but I cannot do these things every day; I need recharge time (on the sofa, in the woods for a run, a lazy Sunday staying in bed etc.). This should give you an idea; basically, I am a homebody that thoroughly enjoys going out in moderation.
I won't say too much about hobbies; suffice it to say I am into the dark, the obscure, the macabre, the occult, the mysterious, the erotic. It won't surprise you that I had a gothic phase in my youth, bonus points if you did too!
What I am looking for
Although similar hobbies and interests are a plus (and there have to be at least a couple things we have in common), emotional and sexual compatibility are more important to me. I am a very sensitive and emotional person (I do cry easily and by this point I don't think I'll ever be able to change that, sorry), so if you're too, we will definitely understand each other. I need someone who I can open up to (which I do rather quickly, anyway), be myself, bare my soul to and I need these things from you, too. I've had my share of emotionally unavailable women who were afraid of intimacy so I know I can't deal with that again because of the way how those things affect me. I am always emotionally invested with the woman I pursue and in those cases that was to my detriment. But my ability to feel so deep is also something I wouldn't want to change because as of yet, although it's getting harder, I haven't given up on finding someone.
With those emotional needs come two requirements that I found to be vital over the years: First, being able to be silly and cutesy together and to accept each other's inner child and care for it. I am not talking about having to deal with another person's immaturity or inability to perform basic adult skills, rather with the way sadness, hurt, anxiety and being overwhelmed manifests for me (and maybe for you, too?). I need someone who is able to comfort me, to hold me, to allow me to be weak and needy for a while until I've calmed down, and I'm more than ready to offer the same. Your inner child can come out for a while, no problem (: Also in a positive way: Thankfully, today everyone seems to be understanding of the cuteness overload cats (or any animal baby, really) can cause; I need that with a partner. I also still have plushies as comfort animals (some of which in quite a litteral sense as they make for really amazing pillows) and ideally, you do too.
There is a saying that in every relationship, one person is the stronger one. In the past, I have been with women who obviously were stronger than me, but that doesn't mean they always had to be strong, far from it. I certainly, like I said, need to be able to feel protected, but it's not like I'm a particularly needy partner, like everyone, I have my ups and downs, but I can pull my weight and have been told by past partners that I am very caring and that they felt safe and understood with me, and providing that for my partner is really important for me as well – this just to put the picture I'm (somewhat haphazardly) trying to paint into perspective.
Second, sexual compatibility. I have a high libido and I have kinks, so you should, too, in order that we can explore and enjoy them together. I found out how fulfilling living out those fantasies can be after years of never being able to try and in a relationship, sexual fulfillment for both partners is a must for me. Someone on here has coined the term 'filthy best friends and partners' which I have no shame to be stealing because it's such an apt description.
I'm looking for a balance between healthy independence and being emotionally present. A relationship where we 'get' each other; we're both each other's number one and treat each other like royalty. Where a disagreement leads to more intimacy between us as we understand better, not to resentment. Where we're comfortable baring our souls to each other, becoming a safe haven and secure base for each other. I don't like the modern notion that you 'should never feel too safe in a relationship' because that sounds like running from the mafia (and believe me, I love mafia movies); you should always put in effort, yes, but safety is one of the things I always want to experience and provide in a relationship. We shouldn't fear that a disagreement leads straight to breakup. I know ‘self-sufficiency’ is trending right now, but I feel like as partners, we’re partly responsible for each other and not our own but also each other’s happiness. Being dependant and dependable at the same time is important; making each other’s wellbeing a priority. I love the relationship model outlined in Stan Tatkin’s ‘Wired for Love’ and you should, too. If you’re not able to healthily depend on someone and their support while you’re having a hard time, look elsewhere. I know codependency is the latest thing everyone’s afraid of, but experiencing someone you’ve grown very attached to just bailing because they’re counterdependent and can’t stand working on themselves while simultaneously letting you in is something I’d rather not go through again. If I have to be afraid you’ll run at the first major problem that surfaces, even if it’s a ‘you’-problem, it’s not going to work. I think that all things can and need to be talked about. If you think ignoring someone for days is a form of communication, please look elsewhere. If you think’s it’s okay to lovebomb someone and then leave after a couple of months with the minimum amount of information and no proper conversation because you’re not ready to own up to what’s happening to you emotionally, please look elsewhere.
I am looking for someone real. We all have our problems, I don't want or need a 'perfect' person. You don't have everything figured out or 'all your shit' together. Be imperfect. Admit when you feel sad and angry, lonely, hopeless or even helpless – it's all relatable. Don't hide it. Be quirky, be dorky, be witchy, be opinionated, be yourself. Don't pretend.
I'm looking for someone to share romance with. Not great gestures, but small, meaningful ones. Poems for each other, expressing our feelings; cards with heartfelt messages that we put our perfume/cologne on, and a symbol that means something to us only, the print of your lips with lipstick, the way I sign and seal my letters for you.
Just as important to me is agreeing on living a healthy life, staying in shape both for ourselves and for each other, regularly working out and eating healthy. I am drug and disease-free and expect the same of you. I do drink as I love a good beer or glass of wine, rum or whiskey, but I've never really been drinking much and especially during the past year have further reduced it. One vice I have is that I enjoy a couple of cigars a year, but I can definitely accommodate you in this regard.
Another important point is aligned life goals: many childfree people seem to be adventurous, but that is a trait I don't associate with myself at all. I value safety more than adventure. I want to build a home together with my partner, a safespace for the both of us, where we always feel loved and protected, a place that we create together, make it cozy together so we just love to get back home there wherever we might have been, a home we decorate together for Halloween (my favourite holiday) or Christmas or Springtime, as we live in tune with the seasons, seeing them change around us, enjoying nature on a walk or the rain outside, reading in our cozy home. I value stability and harmony.
Appearance-wise, I am into ladies on the smaller side (albeit not regarding height), so I'm looking for someone petite/slim/skinny/healthy-fit. Likewise, I am not really muscular and don't have visible abs; like I said, I'm a runner, so if you're more into the gym-type, I'm not a good fit.
The natural progression for me would be to move from text to voice calls, videochat and then meeting up, all of that rather sooner than later. Not that there’s a need to rush anything, but having my heart broken because I already developed feelings due to a longer timeframe and then everything unexpectedly turning to shit is not something I want to have to live through again. I’d rather see earlier if we’re compatible or not; as someone who catches feelings fast I need to protect myself, I unfortunately had to learn that
Caveats/Possible red flags

• I don't like travelling as it stresses me out; I don't mind being somewhere else for a week or two, but the organisation part of it drains my energy very quickly and dealing with stuff that doesn't work out is overwhelming to me. Smaller trips are ok, but I'm not the right person to travel the world with.
• I am not the most awake person in the morning (i.e. I identify as nightowl)
• I need space for my own projects/time to recharge after social interaction.
• While I feel like I am in tune with my inner child and working on/with it through therapy, I realise this is something that could be a turn-off for people.
• I have been diagnosed with depressive episodes in the past and am taking anti-depressants right now. I realise that I am a work in progress, maybe more so than in times past, but I manage and the fact that I'm putting myself out here is based on me being ready to get to know someone new.
• I want to create a home together here, as I'm firmly rooted where I was born; I realise this is a lot to ask, but I have seen many people here being open to moving, so I want to at least try reaching out to them.

If you're interested, feel free to message me and include some pictures of yourself and I will reply with my own. Have a nice day (:

I am looking for a lady between 25 and 35 years old, for a committed monogamous childfree relationship. My goal is to become a true team, supporting each other, caring for each other, nurturing each other and helping each other grow and realise our goals and dreams as much as possible. I'm hoping to find someone that values a relationship as much as I do and takes it seriously. It's not the only thing my life revolves around, but it's also not just something 'nice to have' for me.
I am 186cm tall, slim/fit built, dark brown hair, brown eyes. Both my arms are tattooed (full sleeve), as are my calves and the areas above my ankles. Regarding pictures see below. I am a runner, training multiple times a week. I'm also vegan. My love languages are physical touch and words of affirmation. While I am mostly securely attached, withdrawing from me triggers anxiety and I have made a horrible experience with an avoidant partner in the past, so that is something I fear I cannot deal with again.
I am also an atheist.
I am a very warm, soft and sensitive person, I think I am humorous, I am self reflecting a lot and I can also be really passionate and romantic. Those are traits that also are really important to me in a woman.
I can be quite social, I am a good talker, but also love to listen to really get to know someone on a deeper level. I can enjoy an evening out with friends just as much as the silence of sitting at the shores of the river and watching the sunset in solitude (although I've been craving to watch it together with a partner for a really long time now). I can be out in a pub, at a rave, a metal show or at a football game and have the time of my life, but I cannot do these things every day; I need recharge time (on the sofa, in the woods for a run, a lazy Sunday staying in bed etc.). This should give you an idea; basically, I am a homebody that thoroughly enjoys going out in moderation.
I won't say too much about hobbies; suffice it to say I am into the dark, the obscure, the macabre, the occult, the mysterious, the erotic. It won't surprise you that I had a gothic phase in my youth, bonus points if you did too!
What I'm looking for
Although similar hobbies and interests are a plus, emotional and intimate compatibility are more important to me. I am a very sensitive and emotional person (I do cry easily and by this point I don't think I'll ever be able to change that, sorry), so if you're too, we will definitely understand each other. I need someone who I can open up to (which I do rather quickly, anyway), be myself, bare my soul to and I need these things from you, too. I've had my share of emotionally unavailable women who were afraid of intimacy so I know I can't deal with that again because of the way how those things affect me. I am always emotionally invested with the woman I pursue and in those cases that was to my detriment. But my ability to feel so deep is also something I wouldn't want to change because as of yet, although it's getting harder, I haven't given up on finding someone.
With those emotional needs come two requirements that I found to be vital over the years: First, being able to be silly and cutesy together and to accept each other's inner child and care for it. I am not talking about having to deal with another person's immaturity or inability to perform basic adult skills, rather with the way sadness, hurt, anxiety and being overwhelmed manifests for me (and maybe for you, too?). I need someone who is able to comfort me, to hold me, to allow me to be weak and needy for a while until I've calmed down, and I'm more than ready to offer the same. Your inner child can come out for a while, no problem (: Also in a positive way: Thankfully, today everyone seems to be understanding of the cuteness overload cats (or any animal baby, really) can cause; I need that with a partner. I also still have plushies as comfort animals and ideally, you do too.
Apparently in every relationship, one person is the stronger one. In the past, I have been with women who obviously were stronger than me, but that doesn't mean they always had to be strong, far from it. I certainly need to be able to feel protected, but it's not like I'm a particularly needy partner, like everyone, I have my ups and downs, but I can pull my weight and have been told by past partners that I am very caring and that they felt safe and understood with me, and providing that for my partner is really important for me as well.
Second, intimate compatibility. I am rather insatiable and love to experiment when it comes to the bedroom, so you should, too, in order that we can explore and enjoy together. I found out how fulfilling living out those fantasies can be after years of never being able to try and in a relationship, this kind of fulfillment for both partners is a must for me. I found the term 'filthy best friends and partners' to be a perfect description.
I'm looking for a balance between healthy independence and being emotionally present. A relationship where we 'get' each other; we're both each other's number one and treat each other like royalty. Where a disagreement leads to more intimacy between us as we understand better, not to resentment. Where we're comfortable baring our souls to each other, becoming a safe haven and secure base for each other. I don't like the modern notion that you 'should never feel too safe in a relationship' because that sounds like running from the mafia (and believe me, I love mafia movies); you should always put in effort, yes, but safety is one of the things I always want to experience and provide in a relationship. We shouldn't fear that a disagreement leads straight to breakup. I know ‘self-sufficiency’ is trending right now, but I feel like as partners, we’re partly responsible for each other and not our own but also each other’s happiness. Being dependant and dependable at the same time is important; making each other’s wellbeing a priority. If you’re not able to healthily depend on someone and their support while you’re having a hard time, look elsewhere. If I have to be afraid you’ll run at the first major problem that surfaces, even if it’s a ‘you’-problem, it’s not going to work. I think that all things can and need to be talked about. If you think ignoring someone for days is a form of communication, please look elsewhere.
I am looking for someone real. We all have our problems, I don't want or need a 'perfect' person. You don't have everything figured out or 'all your shit' together. Be imperfect. Admit when you feel sad and angry, lonely, hopeless or even helpless – it's all relatable. Don't hide it. Be quirky, be dorky, be witchy, opinionated, be yourself. Don't pretend.
I'm looking for someone to share romance with. Not great gestures, but small, meaningful ones. Poems for each other, expressing our feelings; cards with heartfelt messages that we put our perfume/cologne on, and a symbol that means something to us only, the print of your lips with lipstick, the way I sign and seal my letters for you.
Just as important to me is agreeing on living a healthy life, staying in shape both for ourselves and for each other, regularly working out and eating healthy. I am drug and disease-free and expect the same of you. I do drink as I love a good beer or glass of wine, rum or whiskey, but I've never really been drinking much and especially during the past year have further reduced it. One vice I have is that I enjoy a couple of cigars a year, but I can definitely accommodate you in this regard.
Another important point is aligned life goals: I value safety more than adventure. I want to build a home together with my partner, a safespace for the both of us, where we always feel loved and protected, a place that we create together, make it cozy together so we just love to get back home there wherever we might have been, a home we decorate together for Halloween (my favourite holiday) or Christmas or Springtime, as we live in tune with the seasons, enjoying nature on a walk or the rain outside, reading in our cozy home. I value stability and harmony.
Appearance-wise, I am into ladies on the smaller side), so I'm looking for someone petite/slim/skinny/healthy-fit. Likewise, I am not really muscular and don't have visible abs; like I said, I'm a runner, so if you're more into the gym-type, I'm not a good fit.
I’d prefer to move from text to voice calls, videochat and then meeting up, all of that rather sooner than later. Not that there’s a need to rush anything, but I’d rather see earlier if we’re compatible or not; as someone who catches feelings fast I need to protect myself.
Caveats

• I don't like travelling as it stresses me out; I don't mind being somewhere else for a week or two, but the organisation part of it drains my energy very quickly and dealing with stuff that doesn't work out is overwhelming to me. Smaller trips are ok, but I'm not the right person to travel the world with.
• I am not the most awake person in the morning (i.e. I identify as nightowl)
• I don't want children and had a vasectomy
• I need space for my own projects/time to recharge after social interaction.
• While I feel like I am in tune with my inner child and working on/with it through therapy, I realise this is something that could be a turn-off for people.
• I have been diagnosed with depressive episodes in the past and am taking anti-depressants right now. I realise that I am a work in progress, maybe more so than in times past, but I manage and the fact that I'm putting myself out here is based on me being ready to get to know someone new.
• I want to create a home together here, as I'm firmly rooted where I was born; I realise this is a lot to ask, but I have seen many people here being open to moving, so I want to at least try reaching out to them.

If you're interested, feel free to message me and include some pictures of yourself and I will reply with my own. Have a nice day (:

💀INTRODUCTIONS💀
Welcome to my Reddit Account & Thank You for taking the time to examine my content. I really appreciate it, you can call me VI. I guess a good place to start is by telling you what this account is & what you can expect from it. I created this Reddit Account to have a place where I can post all of my ART. I’m an Artist in the traditional sense, but that is just a hobbie for me. I am also an inspiring Model, Author & singer. My post will contain my art such as my Drawing, OC, Poems, Stories, Fantasy & Diary etc etc.
💀ABOUT ME💀
I guess the best place to start is by describing me, so starting with my physical look. As the username suggests, I’m a Yandere that is into the whole gothic astethic. As you can tell by the picture, I am African American. You probably can’t tell but I am 5’10 in height, I have 2 piercing & as of right now 0 tattoo, but I do plan on getting some sleeve at some point in the future. I have been growing out dreads, since January of 2020, so at the time of me writing this 4 years.
For my personality, I am definitely an omnivert (meaning I fluctuate between Introvert & Extrovert). Honestly it just depends on the mood I am, usually I am very friendly. I have no problem starting or engaging with conversation, but catch me in a bad mood & usually I will just try to ignore your ass. I try to be nice & polite for the most part but unless we are close, don’t expect me to be a good person. If I can paraphrase the comedian Cam Bertrand ‘if you see the word HERO on my obituary, then what ever I did was accidentally’. Also I am lazy, if you wanna send me a DM. Your more then welcome to, however if I don’t respond then that is either due to laziness or I just wasn’t interested. My Zodiac sign is Cancer ♋️ & I have a few mental disabilities, Autism being one of them. So clearly I’m a little psycho, but I’m also sweet. Which make Yandere the perfect occupation for me 😂. So if you’re a person who can’t handle crazy, then I highly recommend either avoiding me or setting up boundaries from the start.
I guess my life goal would have to be trying to find the person who is my soulmate, so I can devote my entire being to them. but as of right now I am currently single & because I know some people will ask. I believe that you only have 1 soulmate in your entire life. Honestly I don’t know what else to say, my shoe size is 12.
💀HOBBIES & INTERESTS 💀
I have a lot of hobbies & interests, however they are constantly rotating. I am quite fickle with them, one week it’s may be this hobby, the next week it may be another. So here is a list of all the different stuff I like. 1. Anime 2. Games 3. Writing 4. Art 5. Craft 6. Astrology 7. Yu-Gi-Oh! 8. Exercising 9. Sleeping 10. YouTube 11. Fashion 12. Comics (both DC & Marvel) 13. Horror 14. Comedy 15. Romance 16. Reading & Creating Smut 17. Daydreaming 18. Politics 19. Philosophy

Conversation about Adrian Veidt (Ozymandias) on this subreddit tends to be really limited, with many people taking at face value the "smartest man in the world" claim (which was published in a magazine Veidt owns!) and interpreting the ending as a moral quandary over whether killing millions is worth it to avert nuclear war.
But that's not how Veidt's character is written. Veidt is written, instead, to show how ego, anxiety, and detachment from humanity can drive people to do horrific things.
I collected examples from the text on several facets of Veidt's character, hoping to highlight how -- both through analogy and through plot -- Moore worked to paint a complex picture of Veidt as a person driven mad by anxiety and impotence, his fears fueled by isolation and obsessive media consumption, who did something unthinkable and unnecessary.
Is this post, itself, a bit obsessive? Yes. But I hope that people can link this post in the future the next time someone inevitably asks: "Was Ozymandias right?"

I. Veidt is mentally unwell.

• Dan: “I mean, who’s qualified to judge something like that? This is the world’s smartest man we’re talking about here, so how can you tell? How can anyone tell if he’s gone crazy?” (Chapter XI, page 3).
• Veidt: “By day I imagine endless faces. By night… well, I dream, about swimming towards a hideous… No. Never mind. It isn’t significant.” (Chapter XII, page 27)
• Veidt tells his life story to a bunch of dead bodies. (Chapter XI)
• Veidt: “I don’t mind being the smartest man in the world. I just wish it wasn’t this one.” (Chapter XII, back matter)
• Veidt is mirrored by the mariner in the Black Freighter, who has visibly gone mad by the time he embarks on the raft and is raving by the time he arrives home.
• We see a reference to Tarkovsky’s iconic film The Sacrifice (Chapter XII, page 31), which also features a character going insane in an attempt to prevent nuclear war.
• Veidt’s plan is, in essence, a form of projection: the squid makes people go insane, have constant nightmares, and kill each other out of fear. The squid is, itself, a nightmare given form.
• Graffiti (Chapter I, page 24) reads “One in eight go mad.” Of the eight Minutemen, Mothman was put in an asylum. There were eight attendees of the Crimebusters meeting. After 11/2, the graffiti has been modified (Chapter XII, page 31) to read “One in three go mad.” Only three of the attendees remain: Veidt, Dan, and Laurie.
• Just look at his expression while killing the Comedian. (Chapter XI, page 26)

II. Veidt is detached from humanity.

• In present day, we only see Veidt in his personal skyscraper or thousands of miles from New York at his private Antarctic fortress -- never on the street.
• Pulling at the Tales of the Black Freighter parallels again, the mariner is marooned and goes mad because he has nobody else to talk to.
• Veidt refers to “stepping back” from humanity: “My first step was to stand back as far as I could, to view the problem from a fresh perspective, my vista widening with my comprehension. [...] I took another step back, and thought again.” (Chapter XI, page 21).

III. Veidt is obsessed with media and pop culture, and it deeply influences his worldview.

• Veidt is constantly engaged with his “multi-screen viewing” (Chapter XI, page 1), which we see originating in 1963 with just a few screens (Chapter XII, page 18). For 20+ years, Veidt has been gleaning a lot of his understanding of humanity from obsessively watching TV.
• The squid is straight out of sci-fi, with Veidt literally hiring famous artists, writers, etc. from literature, comic books, and so on to design the squid and the nightmares planted within it.
• We also know that Veidt has read Tales of the Black Freighter, not just because he hired Max Shea to help with the squid, but also because he references it twice: “I dream, about swimming towards a hideous…” and “I know I’ve struggled across the backs of murdered innocents” (Chapter XII, page 27). The mariner literally sails on the bloated corpses of his innocent crew, and at the end, swims towards the Black Freighter.
• Veidt makes frequent media references: William S. Burroughs (Chapter XI, page 1), Man From UNCLE (Chapter XI, back matter), a bunch of musicians (Chapter XI, back matter) -- there are definitely more.
• Nova Express, heavily implied to be owned by Veidt, is another Burroughs reference.
• Veidt takes personal investment in forming narratives in his advertising, micromanaging plots in TV shows, toys, etc. (Chapter X, back matter).
• Veidt is mirrored by Bernard, the newsstand owner. Both Veidt and Bernard’s parents moved out of Germany during Hitler’s rise to power. Both Veidt and Bernard think they understand the world because they see a constant stream of media (Veidt with his TVs, Bernard with his newsstand) and are terrified of impending war. Both cite popular culture as evidence of impending war despite themselves selling to those audiences (Veidt via his advertising and publications, Bernard via his newsstand). Note Veidt’s obsession with finality and Bernard’s frequent refrain: “... inna final analysis.”

IV. Veidt undercuts his plan for his ego.

• Veidt is careful to distance himself from most of his assassinations, but kills the Comedian by hand -- something he’s not prone to doing. (Dan: “This is Adrian, for god’s sake! We know him. He never killed anybody, ever.” [Chapter XI, page 3]) This immediately clues in both the detectives (“No way this is a straight burglary… somebody really had it in for this guy.” [Chapter I, page 3]) and Rorschach.
• Veidt does this because of his ego: “Recognizing me, he attacked anyway, ‘mistaking me for a criminal.’ I studied his limitations: skillful feint, devastating uppercut; little else… He won. In the short term. [...] I also swore that when next I met Blake or any other foe, though perhaps not on my territory… it would certainly be on my terms.” (Chapter XI, page 19).
• Veidt makes his password “RAMESES II”, leaves lots of clues (“Pyramid Deliveries”), and only teleports the squid when he sees Dan and Rorschach approaching (Chapter XI, page 4). The title of Chapter XI is “Looks on my works, ye mighty”. Veidt wants an audience of his peers. If he had teleported the squid earlier, Rorschach likely would have died.
• Along similar lines, Veidt leaves the Comedian alive for as long as possible and doesn’t kill Rorschach -- sloppy choices, born out of his need for peers who know his plan.
• Both in his self-planned assassination attempt and at Karnak, Veidt risks being shot because he's sure that he could catch a bullet. He attempts it at Karnak despite having easy other options: he's faster and stronger than Laurie, and he's in his own fortress. He takes a plan-destabilizing risk purely to satisfy his own ego and showboat in front of others. "There," Veidt says, "Something else I wasn't sure would work." (Chapter XII, page 12). [Credit to u/spinbutton for this one!]

V. Veidt’s plan is doomed and ill-conceived.

• Veidt idolizes Alexander the Great, who failed. Veidt: “Amongst [Babylon’s] ruined ziggurats, I saw at last his failings… He’d not united all the world, nor built a unity that would survive him.” (Chapter XI, page 10)
• Veidt named himself after Ramesses II (aka Ozymandias), famous from the Shelley poem about the impermanence of greatness, which the comic also references. (“And on the pedestal, these words appear: / My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings; / Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair! / Nothing beside remains. Round the decay / Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare / The lone and level sands stretch far away.”)
• Dr. Manhattan: “Nothing ends, Adrian. Nothing ever ends.” (Chapter XII, page 27)
• Tales of the Black Freighter shows the mariner accidentally attacking his home to save it from a threat he thinks has already arrived, only to discover that the threat was in his head and he had become the thing he feared. Veidt, similarly, was so terrified of nuclear war that he became the threat.
• Rorschach’s journal is the last panel, implying that Veidt’s artificial peace will soon begin to deteriorate.

VI. Veidt's relationship to the Comedian is crucial, and Veidt may be the comic's true "comedian."

• Veidt’s complicated admiration for Blake extends to early in his career, in the mid-50’s: “As intelligent men facing lunatic times, we were very alike, despising each other instantly.” (Chapter XI, page 18).
• Rorschach says of the Comedian: “No one else saw the joke. That’s why he was lonely.” (Chapter II, page 27). But Veidt did: “Too cowardly to confront my anxieties, I had life’s black comedy explained to me by the Comedian himself [...] [He] opened my eyes. Only the best comedians accomplish that. [...] I swore to deny his kind their last black laugh at Earth’s expense. [...] I would trick [the world]; frighten it towards salvation with history’s greatest practical joke. That’s what upset the Comedian: [...] professional jealousy.” (Chapter XI, pages 19-24)
• In fact, though, it ends up being Blake who doesn’t get the joke. When Blake confesses to Moloch, he says of Veidt’s plan: “I mean, this joke, I mean, I thought I was the Comedian, y’know? [...] I mean, what’s funny? What’s so goddamned funny? I don’t get it. Somebody explain… somebody explain it to me.” (Chapter II, page 23)
• Veidt’s likely namesake is Conrad Veidt, perhaps most famous for his haunting, insane-looking grin in “The Man Who Laughs”.
• We see the relationship between comedy/laughter and mental instability explored in Rorschach’s joke: “Man goes to doctor. Says he’s depressed. Says life seems harsh and cruel. Says he feels all alone in a threatening world where what lies ahead is vague and uncertain. Doctor says ‘Treatment is simple. Great clown Pagliacci is in town tonight. Go and see him. That should pick you up. Man bursts into tears. Says ‘But, doctor… I am Paglacci.’” (Chapter II, page 27). On the surface, this appears to be about Blake -- but by the end, we can see that it applies just as much, if not more, to Veidt.

VII. Veidt is a Hitler analogue.

• Veidt is a German immigrant whose character design is straight out of a Nazi propaganda ad.
• Veidt idolizes Alexander the Great, a Greco-Roman would-be world conqueror. Nazis frequently invoked Greco-Roman design motifs and obviously had similar goals of conquering the world.
• Dan: “He’s such a caring, conscientious guy. He’s a pacifist, a vegetarian…” / Rorschach: “Hitler was vegetarian.” (Chapter XI, page 15)
• Veidt: “Hitler said people swallow lies easily, provided they’re big enough.” (Chapter XI, page 26)
• 11/2 is Veidt’s personal Holocaust. Over the scenes of carnage in New York, we see the Madison Square Garden sign: “KRYSTALNACHT” (Chapter XII, page 2). Highlighted among the millions of dead: the concertgoers (alternative/punks), Joey and Aline (lesbians), Bernard (whose father fled the Nazis), and a number of Black people (Malcolm, Gloria, Bernie, and the watch salesman). Joey’s posted for Gay Women Against Rape features the band Pink Triangle, a symbol which originated as a badge to identify gay people in Nazi concentration camps.
• Veidt, fundamentally, is obsessed with finding a “final solution” to bring peace -- even if it costs millions of lives.

The Horus Heresy Book 18: Deliverance Lost by Gav Thorpe So last week, we got a lot of response and we would like to explain that we only hated it because we worked ourselves up talking and discussing it and coming to the realisation it didn't add up to a good book. I hope that clarifies things 😃
18 books in and we get our first full one from the point of view of the Raven Guard. The “Night Lords who got some therapy” have not been having a good time with Isstvan V and the massacring of their forces. We get to see what is required to try to rebuild a legion following the betrayal and then what happens when there is more betrayal.
This book builds upon the short story “The Face of Treachery”, also written by Gav Thorpe (go read our previous review Horus Heresy Book 16: Age of Darkness, an anthology : 40kLore (reddit.com) and give us an upvote hint hint) with the Alpha Legion setting up sleeper agents within the Raven Guard, which turns out to be highly useful as a new secret weapon is developed. Perhaps even more so than “Legion”, this story shows just how devious the Alpha Legion are.
‘What do you wish to ask of me, my son?’ ‘The Raven Guard verge on being a spent force, but I would rebuild them if I had the chance,’ said Corax. ‘Yet I cannot spare a warrior from the fighting to come, nor the time to raise up a new generation of the Legion. I seek your permission to launch attacks against the traitors, to mark our final passing in the glory of battle.’ ‘You wish to sacrifice your Legion?’ The Emperor seemed genuinely surprised. ‘In what cause?’ ‘I do not do it out of woe but necessity,’ explained Corax. ‘I must atone for the failure at Isstvan, for it will tear me apart as surely as my wounds did, if allowed to fester in my heart. Forgive me, but I cannot defend Terra, idly awaiting my fate to come to me.’ The Emperor did not reply for some time, his brow creased slightly with deep thought. Corax waited patiently, eyes fixed to the Emperor’s face. ‘I concur,’ the Master of Mankind said eventually. ‘It is in your nature to cry havoc and wreak the same upon your foes. Yet there is no need for sacrifice. I am reluctant, but you have my trust, Corvus. I will grant you a gift, a very precious gift.’
And another quote that we loved:
‘In Egypt's sandy silence, all alone, Stands a gigantic Leg, which far off throws The only shadow that the Desert knows: "I am great OZYMANDIAS," saith the stone, "The King of Kings; this mighty City shows The wonders of my hand". The City's gone, Nought but the Leg remaining to disclose The site of this forgotten Babylon. We wonder, and some Hunter may express Wonder like ours, when thro' the wilderness Where London stood, holding the Wolf in chase, He meets some fragments huge, and stops to guess What powerful but unrecorded race Once dwelt in that annihilated place.’
The primarch considered the words, but could not divine their meaning. His mentors on Lycaeus had taught him of poetry, of rhyme and metre and cadence, but he had never quite been able to see the appeal. Poems reminded him too much of the work-songs the prisoners had invented to keep up their spirits while they had hewn with pick and laser drill at the unforgiving stone of the penal colony. The last three lines left Corax feeling disquieted, though, as if the Emperor had suspected that his Imperium could not endure any more than the great empires of mankind's long history.”
Synopsis
“When I was a young boy My father took me into the city To see a marching band He said, "Son, when you grow up Would you be the saviour of the broken The beaten and the damned?" He said, "Will you defeat them? Your daemons, and all the non-believers The plans that they have made?" "Because one day, I'll leave you a phantom To lead you in the summer To join the black parade” Corvus Corax M31.1312
The Raven Guard are still barely alive on Isstvan V and are rescued by Commander Branne, who was guided by prophetic dreams. Beyond two ships sent back to Deliverance, his homeworld, Corax and his remaining forces head to Terra to see the Emperor. That’s good.
However, the Alpha Legion have surgically modified some of their Space Marines to look like slain Raven Guards and even implanted memories into them, to act as sleeper agents and pass on relevant intel. That’s bad.
Corax meets with Dorn and Malcador, and learns that the Emperor is a little busy currently and is unable to meet with him. Getting annoyed Corvus is met psychically by the Emperor, who gives him knowledge of how to access the remains of the ‘Primarch Project’.
With this knowledge Corax can restore his legion, possibly to even greater strength than before Isstvan.
But to get the knowledge, the Raven Guard have to get through a technological Labyrinth that is constantly changing and preventing them access (essentially a ‘Dungeons and Dragons’ moving maze). Corax uses his massive super duper primarch brain power and solves the labyrinth to keep it open. Inside is the ‘Primarch Project’, which can be used to make new Space Marines and quickly mass produce them.
The first of these new marines, dubbed the Raptors, are trained and deployed, striking a Word Bearer garrison hard. Estimates project the traitor legions will be outnumbered in months.
The Alpha Legion cannot allow this, so they rebalance the scales. A genetic poison, concocted from daemon blood, is introduced to the Raptors gene seed.
Soon the Raptors show rapid signs of mutation, morphing into hideous crowlike monsters. There is a certain irony that they resemble the same mutated Word Bearer possessed marines that struck them down on Isstvan. In a show of mercy or desperation, Corax allows the Raptors to remain. It is likely they will serve their legion until their use is no longer required. Omegon (the other primarch of the Alpha Legion) then attacks the gene seed project and chaos breaks out as the sleeper agents emerge and start slaughtering everything in their way. The mutated Raptors are released to fight back and prevent the Alpha Legionnaires escaping. Luckily, a Mechanicum super soldier has arrived to pick up the gene seed and I'm sure he is an upstanding member of society who can be fully trusted….
Corax is annoyed but determined. The remaining Alpha Legion agents are discovered and executed. It is time to strike against Horus and an unlucky unit of Emperor’s Children are wiped out by cunning lightning strikes and feints. The Raven Guard are victorious and plan to harry the Warmaster’s forces in their slow advance on Terra….
Review: Good ideas that do not always come together into a great plot. We genuinely really like this book but there are a few parts that just don’t work.
Labyrinth is an odd design choice; why have a primarch project that can only be solved by a primarch? It is very odd to seclude it in this particular way. Why not stick it on Mars in the Labyrinth? This is the second Labrinth the Emperor is keeping secrets in; why!? It doesn’t really achieve much by keeping it in there. Do we really think Pertarabo or Magnus would not be able to solve it if they turned up? Then they take the super secret project to a world currently experiencing a rebellion…Brilliant, just brilliant. Why not do the mass recruiting experiments on Terra until it is working? It might have made more sense to steal it and raise the stakes and betray Dorn and Malcador, but working for the greater good of the Imperium. It is a minor thing but it slows the book down considerably and you know Corvus is going to solve the puzzle, so there is no tension.
The attack on the Emperor's Children is such bolter porn. The attack on the Perfect Fortress is so not Slaaneshi; it's just a place that needs attacking by the Loyalists and is never mentioned again. Where are the weird palaces of pleasure and the civilians being turned into drugs?
Tinfoil Hat Time We do not have an answer to this one - but did the Alpha Legion send psychic messages to Deliverance? Because if not, why bother to have sleeper agents to a dead legion that was trapped on Istvaan V? Tinfoil Hat Time
I really enjoyed the scene where an Alpha Legion sleeper agent is nearly unmasked during combat training. He uses a move that is only known to the Alpha Legion, and is questioned by the other marines. “I saw someone use it on Isstvan” - he says and teaches the other Raven Guard. Internally he knows Alpha Legion marines will die due to his lapse in concentration.
I do fully sympathise with Omegon on throwing the whole Cabal plot out of an airlock.
Score: 7.5/10 - An solid good book with interesting ideas that just has a few issues from ideas that do not really make sense. We would recommend rereading this one for the cool bits and maybe breezing through the weirder bits. We are incredibly happy to meet Corax and have a more humanised primarch character who considers what they are doing and thinks about it.
Cover: The motion blur on Corvus is superb. He does look like a grim dark Beatle with that mop top unfortunately, but it does seem to suit him. Space marine is looking the right way finally. It might be set in the Perfect Fortress, but we are not 100% sure.
Heresy Watch: In the aftermath of Isstvan V, the Raven Guard have been decimated but Corvus has escaped and is determined to carry on harassing Horus with hit and run strikes. As a giant invisible birdman, he demonstrates he is more than capable of it. Interestingly, the Emperor’s Children stationed at the Perfect City seem to still be protecting the civilians there. The Alpha Legion are fully acting for themselves; they prevent the Raven Guard using the modified gene seed, give Horus flawed intel for it and end their relationship with the Cabal. They are acting for themselves. The Emperor is struggling to deal with the mess Magnus created and has to psychically communicate through Malcador (apparently 2 years before it happens. Let's not bring that up again).
Legion Watch/Number of Book(s):
Dark Angels: 4
: 2
Emperor’s Children: 7
Iron Warriors: 5
White Scars: 2
Space Wolves: 4
Imperial Fists: 8
Night Lords: 3
Blood Angels: 1
Iron Hands: 3
: 2
World Eaters: 9
Ultramarines: 5
Death Guard: 4
Thousand Sons: 5
Sons of Horus: 8
Word Bearers: 9
Salamanders: 2
Raven Guard: 4
Alpha Legion: 5
The Emperor: 7
Another entry for Rogal Dorn. Major characters from various traitor legions show up in the novel, inflating their count. Salamanders and Blood Angels are still forgotten about.
Tropes Watch: Are we the baddies?: 33
The Emperor has a ever shifting Labyrinth containing his secret projects, which has serious Bond villain vibes.
The Alpha Legion literally replace their faces with dead Raven Guard to become undercover agents.
It's definitely not gay: 19 “The Emperor reached out a hand and Corax felt hot fingers upon his brow. Energy flowed through the primarch, knitting his shattered bones, stemming his pouring blood, healing wounded muscles and organs. The primarch gasped, filled with love and adoration.” C’mon man, that's your Dad…. Given that description of injuries shouldnt Corax already be dead? Anyway?
How not to parent 101: 23
Oh Corvus. The poor guy is a little crazed in his quest to get the Raptor project working and it all goes horribly wrong. It was a big gamble and it did not pay off (due to Alpha Legion sabotage but still…)
The Emperor psychically meeting with Corax is an afterthought! And only when Corax gets mad. The son has literally returned home from hell and is confronted by evil stepmother Malcador who says that “dad is way too busy”. If The Emperor cared he would have put plans in place to send a message, help, or even just ask if Corax is ok?
Erebus!!!: 17 Besides the actual Erebus being here and worming his way as usual, Athithirtir is bloody annoying and tries to order Omegon to follow the Cabal. He fully deserves his fate, having alerted the Alpha Legion to what the Raven Guard were doing.
“Alpharius sat down, reluctantly accepting the Warmaster’s invitation, darting a warning look at Erebus just as the Word Bearer opened his mouth to speak. ‘Save your posturing for those that are swayed by it,’ said Alpharius. ‘Your change of loyalty proves the vacuity of your proselytising. You are privileged to stand in the presence of your betters, and should know not to speak until spoken to.’ The primarch enjoyed the contortions of anger that wracked the First Chaplain’s face, but Erebus heeded the warning and said nothing.” All it took was a primarch to finally shut him up.
Does this remind you of anything?: 32
Vicente Sixx (the Raven Guard Chief Apothecary) also doubles up as a singer and bass player in his spare time. His covert name is probably Dr Feelgood.
The super secure labyrinth is basically a one shot DnD dungeon.
Idiot Ball: 1 New trope this week after we keep noticing it. Why did the Alpha Legion sleeper agents stick around after the attack? They knew the Raven Guard knew there were agents, and they all get identified by their DNA and killed shortly thereafter. The Alpha Legion seem to be either amazingly smart and well prepared or absolute idiots. The Custodes have had it for weeks, so it's nice for someone else to have it. There is an argument for someone holding the Idiot Book for every book and we may list them all next week....

Yes. ISIS does exactly what Muhammad did in the 7th century. And it also adopts a lot of what the subsequent “rightly guided” caliphs did. Because after all, ISIS is a Salafi organization (Salaf- as in “Al-Salaf Al-Saleh” = the rightly guided predecessors - referring to the four “rightly guided” caliphs following Muhammad).
Long answer:
Let’s take a look first what ISIS is doing. If we can agree what these “atrocities” are, then we can look further and dig deeper whether we can find something similar in Islamic scripture and history.
So, here’s what ISIS does:
BEHEADING OF PRISONERS
Scriptural base:
Qur’an 8:12- “I will instill terror into the hearts of the unbelievers: smite ye above their necks and smite all their finger-tips off.”
Qur’an 47:4- “Therefore, when ye meet the Unbelievers (in fight), strike off their heads; at length; then when you have made wide Slaughter among them, carefully tie up the remaining captives”: thereafter (is the time for) either generosity or ransom: Until the war lays down its burdens.”
What Muhammad did:
Then the Messenger of Allah commanded that ditches should be dug, so they were dug in the earth, and they were brought tied by their shoulders, and were beheaded. There were between seven hundred and eight hundred of them. The children who had not yet reached adolescence and the women were taken prisoner, and their wealth was seized.
Tafsir Ibn Kathir - The Campaign against Banu Qurayzah
Narrated Aisha . . . No woman of Banu [tribe] Qurayzah was killed except one. She was with me, talking and laughing on her back and belly (extremely), while the Apostle of Allah . . . was killing her people with the swords. Suddenly a man called her name: Where is so-and-so? . . . I asked: What is the matter with you? She said: I did a new act. [Aisha] said: The man took her and beheaded her. [Aisha] said: I will not forget that she was laughing extremely although she knew that she would be killed. (Abu Dawud)
TAKING FEMALE SEX-SLAVES
Scriptural base:
Qur’an - 4:24 - "And all married women are forbidden unto you save those captives whom your right hand possess. It is a decree of Allah for you.
What Muhammad did:
Sunan Abu Dawud, Vol. 2, # 2150:
Abu Said al-Khudri said: "The apostle of Allah sent a military expedition to Awtas on the occasion of the battle of Hunain. They met their enemy and fought with them. They defeated them and took them captives. Some of the Companions of the apostle of Allah were reluctant to have intercourse with the female captives in the presence of their husbands who were unbelievers. So Allah, the Exalted, sent down the Quranic verse, "And all married women (are forbidden) unto you save those (captives) whom your right hands possess". That is to say, they are lawful for them when they complete their waiting period." (See Qur’an 4:24 above)
Sahih Bukhari Vol.3 #432
Narrated Abu Said Al-Khudri that while he was sitting with Allah's messenger we said, "Oh Allah's messenger, we got female captives as our booty, and we are interested in their prices, what is your opinion about coitus interruptus?" The prophet said, "Do you really do that? It is better for you not to do it. No soul that which Allah has destined to exist, but will surely come into existence."
Sahih Muslim, Vol.2, #3371
Abu Sirma said to Abu Said al Khudri: "O Abu Said, did you hear Allah's messenger mentioning about al-azl (coitus interruptus)?" He said, "Yes", and added: "We went out with Allah's messenger on the expedition to the Mustaliq and took captive some excellent Arab women; and we desired them for we were suffering from the absence of our wives, (but at the same time) we also desired ransom for them. So we decided to have sexual intercourse with them but by observing azl" (withdrawing the male sexual organ before emission of semen to avoid conception). But we said: "We are doing an act whereas Allah's messenger is amongst us; why not ask him?" So we asked Allah's messenger and he said: "It does not matter if you do not do it, for every soul that is to be born up to the Day of Resurrection will be born".
Kitab al-Tabaqat al-Kabir, page 151
"He [the Lord of Alexandria] presented to the prophet Mariyah, her sister Sirin, a donkey and a mule which was white....The apostle of Allah liked Mariyah who was of white complexion and curly hair and pretty.... Then he cohabited with Mariyah as a handmaid and sent her to his property which he had acquired from Banu al-Nadir."
Tabari's History, volume 39, page 194
"He (Muhammad) used to visit her (Mariyam) there and ordered her to veil herself, [but] he had intercourse with her by virtue of her being his property."
THROWING DOWN HOMOSEXUALS FROM ROOFS AND STONING THEM AFTERWARDS
Scriptural base:
Qur'an 4:16 If two men among you are guilty of lewdness, punish them both. If they repent and amend, Leave them alone; for Allah is Oft-returning, Most Merciful.
Sunan Abu Dawud 38:4447 Narated By Abdullah ibn Abbas : The Prophet (peace be upon him) said: If you find anyone doing as Lot's people did, kill the one who does it, and the one to whom it is done.
What Muhammad and companions did:
Mishkat, vol. 1, p. 765, Prescribed Punishments
Ibn Abbas and Abu Huraira reported God's messenger as saying, 'Accursed is he who does what Lot's people did.' In a version...on the authority of Ibn Abbas it says that Ali [Muhammad's cousin and son-in-law] had two people “burned” and that Abu Bakr [Muhammad's chief companion] had a wall thrown down on them.
Modern Exegesis:
Sheikh Muhammed Salih Al-Munajjid, Islam Q&A, Fatwa No. 5177
Abu Bakr al-Siddeeq judged in accordance with this, and he wrote instructions to this effect to Khaalid, after consulting with the Sahaabah. ‘Ali was the strictest of them with regard to that. Ibn al-Qasaar and our shaykh said: the Sahaabah agreed that [the person who does homosexual acts] should be killed, but they differed as to how he should be killed. Abu Bakr al-Siddeeq said that he should be thrown down from a cliff. ‘Ali (may Allaah be pleased with him) said that a wall should be made to collapse on him. Ibn ‘Abbaas said, they should be killed by stoning. This shows that there was consensus among them that [the person who does homosexual acts] should be killed, but they differed as to how he should be executed. This is similar to the ruling of the Prophet (peace and blessings of Allaah be upon him) concerning the person who has intercourse with a woman who is his mahram [incest], because in both cases intercourse is not permitted under any circumstances. Hence the connection was made in the hadeeth of Ibn ‘Abbaas (may Allaah be pleased with him) who reported that the Prophet (peace and blessings of Allaah be upon him) said, “Whoever you find doing the deed of the people of Loot, kill them.” And it was also reported that he (peace and blessings of Allaah be upon him) said: “Whoever has intercourse with a woman who is his mahram, kill him.” And according to another hadeeth with the same isnaad, “Whoever has intercourse with an animal, kill him and kill the animal with him.” (Narrated by Ahmad, 2420; Abu Dawood, 4464; al-Tirmidhi, 1454; al-Haakim, 4/355).
Imam Sirajudeen Bakrin, Nigerian Tribune, December 30, 2011
However, there is a divergence of opinions on the methodology to be used in executing the punishment. While some scholars such as Abu bakr [the first Rightly-Guided Caliph] and Ali [Muhammad's son-in-law and the fourth Rightly-Guided Caliph ] were of the view that such a person should be beheaded and set on fire thereafter, Umar [the second Rightly-Guided Caliph] and Uthman [the third Rightly-Guided Caliph] thought the wall should be fell on him. To Ibn Abbas [Muhammad's cousin], he should be taken to the tallest building in the town, thrown upside down while some men stand on the ground waiting to meet him with stone in replication of the destruction done to the people of Lut (Lot) by Allah.
STONING OF ADULTERERS
Scriptural base & what Muhammad did:
Sahih Bukhari (6:60:79) - Two people guilty of illegal intercourse are brought to Muhammad, who orders them both stoned to death.
Sahih Muslim (17:4192) - "in case of married (persons) there is (a punishment) of one hundred lashes and then stoning (to death). And in case of unmarried persons, (the punishment) is one hundred lashes and exile for one year"
Sahih Muslim (17:4196) - A married man confesses to adultery. Muhammad orders him planted in the ground and pelted with stones. According to the passage, the first several stones caused such pain that he tried to escape and had to be dragged back.
Sahih Muslim (17:4206) - A woman who became pregnant confesses to Muhammad that she is guilty of adultery. Muhammad allows her to have the child, then has her stoned.
The description is graphic: "Khalid b Walid came forward with a stone which he flung at her head and there spurted blood on the face of Khalid and so he abused her."
Ibn Ishaq (970)

• "The adulterer must be stoned." These words were a part of Muhammad's farewell address to his people on the occasion of his final pilgrimage to Mecca.

ASSASSINATION OF POLITICAL OPPONENTS & “SLANDERERS OF ISLAM”
What Muhammad did:
Bukhari vol.3 book 45 ch.3 no.687 p.415.
(687) Narrated Jabir bin 'Abdullah: Allah's Apostle said, 'Who would kill Ka'b bin Al-Ashraf as he has harmed Allah and His Apostle? Muhammad bin Maslama (got up and) said, 'I will kill him.' So, Muhammad bin Maslama went to Ka'b and said, 'I want a loan of one or two Wasqs of foodgrains.'" After dickering over what to hold as mortgage, they agreed that Muhammad bin Maslama would mortgage his weapons. So he promised him that he would come with his weapons next time."
Source: Ibn Ishaq, pp. 675-76 / 995-96.
Asma was a poetess who belonged to a tribe of Medinan pagans, and whose husband was named Yazid b. Zayd. She composed a poem blaming the Medinan pagans for obeying a stranger (Muhammad) and for not taking the initiative to attack him by surprise. When the Allah-inspired prophet heard what she had said, he asked, "Who will rid me of Marwan’s daughter?" A member of her husband’s tribe volunteered and crept into her house that night. She had five children, and the youngest was sleeping at her breast. The assassin gently removed the child, drew his sword, and plunged it into her, killing her in her sleep.
The following morning, the assassin defied anyone to take revenge. No one took him up on his challenge, not even her husband. In fact, Islam became powerful among his tribe. Previously, some members who had kept their conversion secret now became Muslims openly, "because they saw the power of Islam," conjectures Ibn Ishaq.
Al-Tabari vol.9 p.167:
Al-Aswad was assassinated because he claimed that he was a prophet, after coming out of the Khubban cave. He was killed a day or two before Mohammed's death.
Al-Tabari vol.9 p.121
"The Messenger of God called me and said, 'It has reached me that Khalid b. Sufyan b. Nubayh al-Hudhali is gathering a force to attack me. He is either in Nakhlah or 'Uranah, so go to him and kill him.'"
Abu Dawud vol.1 no.1244 p.328
"He (the prophet) said, :Go and kill him. I saw him when the time of the afternoon prayer had come. I said : I am afraid if a fight takes place between me and him (Khalid b. Sufyan), that might delay the prayer. I proceeded walking towards him while I was praying by making a sign. When I reached near him, he said to me : Who are you? I replied : A man from the Arabs ; it came to me that you were gathering (any[sp] army) for this man (i.e. the Prophet). Hence I came to you in connection with this matter. ... I then walked along with him for a while; when it became convenient for me, I dominated him with my sword until he became cold (dead)."
Al-Tabari vol.8 p.122
According to Ibn Ishaq: Kinanah b. al-Rabi' b. Abi al-Huqayq who had the treasure of the Banu al-Nadir, was brought to the Messenger of God, who questioned him, but he denied knowing where it [the treasure] was. Then the Messenger of God was brought a Jew who said to him, "I have seen Kinanah walk around this ruin every morning." The Messenger of God said to Kinanah: "What do you say? If we find it in your possession, I will kill you. "All right he answered. The Messenger of God commanded that the ruin should be dug up, and some of the treasure was extracted from it. Then he asked him for the rest of it. Kinanah refused to surrender it, so the Messenger of God gave orders concerning him to al-Zubayr b. al-'Awwam, saying, "Torture him until you root out what he has." Al-Zubayr kept twirling his firestick in his breast until Kinanah almost expired [died]; then the Messenger of God gave him to Muhammad b. Maslamah, who beheaded him to avenge his brother Mahmud b. Maslamah."
The list goes on.
CONCLUSIONS:
All the included sources are Muslim sources. A lot of scholars are using this material to come up with Fatwas and also material for their sermons.
If you have read through my brief write-up, you can see that what ISIS is doing today is almost an exact carbon copy of what Muhammad and his warband were doing back then.
Therefore I urge you all to study all the facts about Muhammad and Islam first, before defending the narrative that ISIS is not Islamic.

Chapter 4
Location: Glimmer Fate
POV: Faror Hend
No rain on the plains in Glimmer Fate. High black grasses make the area extremely hot. Faror Hend is patrolling the edge of the Vitr Sea with her cousin Spinnock Durav. The shore of the Vitr Sea is devoid of life and the breeze coming off of it stings the lungs. The liquid of the sea dissolves almost anything it comes into contact with including stones. Spinnock is sharpening his Hust blade on a stone that has been worn away by the sea. His blade is very old and therefore does not sing. It's new to him, but has been passed down for generations. A third rider in their party, Finarra Stone, was scouting the shoreline out of sight. Nothing lived this close, so it was safe to go alone. Today the Vitr is calm, but recently it has not been and storms had resulted in its claiming more land for the sea. The sea is expanding. Eventually it will come to the border of Kurald Galain if they cannot find a solution. The Tiste have no idea what the source of the Vitr is and how to stop it's expansion. Tiste scholars are also unwilling to consult with anyone outside the Tiste.
Faror Hend is extremely attracted to Spinnock Durav, but their houses are too close in relations for her to act on this attraction. Plus she is betrothed and older, although these would not be a barrier to her. Faror thinks of a line from a Gallan poem, "The ground is bare and hard / and will hold all secrets / and the sky cares not / for the games of those beneath it." She desperately wants to act on her lust, but so far has kept in control. Faror is a big Gallan fan. Spinnock seems to know how his cousin feels and teases her.
POV: Captain Finarra Stone
During her patrol of the Vitr coastline, Finarra finds a carcass. This is puzzling as she has never seen one this close to the sea. It appears to have come out of the sea itself. The corpse is huge with scales and a tail. But a lot of the body eaten away by the Vitr. The head and neck were missing and the top of the torso appears chewed. Very few Tiste had ever claimed to have seen a dragon, but this could be one. However, those legends all had them with wings and Faror did not see any evidence of wings on this beast. A breeze brought the stench to the horse and this caused it to back up a few steps making noise. At this the stump where the neck should be lifted. The creature begins shuffling towards her. With an unbelievably fast lurch it closes the distance and swipes at Faror and her horse with two arms catching the horse with both swipes. Faror finds herself tumbling through the air. She lands on her shoulder and breaks something. The beast is still again after decimating her horse. She decides to head for flatter ground to make better time back to her party. She is the daughter of Hust Henarald and possesses his sword. Her biggest threat now were the naked wolves that roamed Glimmer Fate. Faror contemplates the meaning of dark and light and the impossibility of either without the other. She also says that Mother Dark had been a mortal Tiste woman before embracing darkness. While Finarra is contemplating, something screams at her intending to freeze her with fear. Finarra mortally wounds it as it streaks by.
POV: Faror Hend
Hearing the screams of the wolves and no sound of their prey, Faror fears Finarra is the prey. She has not returned and it has been too long. Faror decides to leave Spinnock at camp and go to investigate. He tells her to be careful and he doesn't want to lose her. She responds by saying that he has many cousins. Faror can hear at least a dozen wolves and knows that it is likely that Finarra is fighting by herself without her horse. Thinking of Spinnock's face, she attempts to replace it in her mind with her betrothed, Kagamandra Tulas. A Tiste who the war had made gaunt. Tulas was of a low house and was under the command of Vatha Urusander. This alone would not have made house Durav attempt a betrothal. However, in the war he had saved the life of Silchas Ruin and by doing so had earned the favor of Mother Dark who would reward him by making him the head of a new High House. She thinks that the war stole Tulas's ability to love anything and she is not sure she can love him either, but she will try.
Eventually she finds the place of the wolf attack. There are many dead wolves. The fighting is over, but she does not see Finarra. She thinks further down the trail she will find wolves eating her corpse. Finarra comes out from behind some boulders. Faror begins to speak, but Finarra tells her to speak softly as something has walked out of the Vitr. Finarra chastises Faror for beginning to follow the path through the grasses that would have led to her death. Faror discovers that she had almost welcomed it. Finarra was tracking whatever had walked out of the Vitr when she came upon Faror. "Small footprints, puddles of Vitr pooled in them" She tells Faror that it is their duty to track it.
POV: Finarra Stone
Finarra in a lot of pain from her shoulder and wolf bites, contemplates the look she caught in Faror's eyes. One that told her she was seeking death. She thinks the cause may be Faror's betrothal to a broken man that may be incapable of love and being in close proximity to Spinnock who oozes it. "Spinnock Durav had been pursued by women and men since he had first come of age. He had learned to not give up too much of himself, since those hands reaching for him desired little more than conquest and possession." Finarra has also caught Spinnock's adoration of his cousin turning in to something else. She knows this kind of torture between them will ruin them. She contemplates how to fix the situation. Transferring one might work, but also thinks of another more sure answer.
POV: Faror Hend
Faror and Finarra are both on the back of Faror's horse. Finarra is unconscious and Faror is having a difficult time keeping her on the horse. She thinks about Finarra only being a few years older than her, but already being a battle veteran. She realizes that the wolves she found were not the ones killed by Finarra, but those of the someone that came from the sea. Faror makes it back to the camp. They treat the unconscious woman's wounds fearing infection.
POV: Spinnock Durav
They had burned away the dead flesh and infection on Finarra's leg hoping they got it all. Finarra has not woken up and is fevered. Spinnock outlines their options whether to stay until Finarra wakes up or to try to transport her as is. Faror informs him that Finarra wanted them to track the stranger from the Vitr. Faror tells Spinnock that Finarra needs a healer and soon, but they also need to track the stranger. Faror will go after the stranger and Spinnock will take Finarra to the outpost. Spinnock follows orders, but now there is a coldness between the cousins.
Following the trail she had discovered the previous night, Faror Hend found several more wolf corpses all killed with savage blows. The path she now followed, if kept straight, would lead directly to Kharkanas. Eventually she comes to a clearing and finds a fair-skinned, blonde woman clothed only in a scaled wolf hide over her shoulders. Everywhere else was sunburnt. She appears young and has no weapon, which is curious considering her roughly cut hair and several wolf corpses. Faror says she means no harm and asks if she is an Azathanai. To this the woman responds, "I know your language. But it is not mine. Azathanai. I know that word. Azat drevlid naratarh Azathanai. The people who were never born." After a few questions that the woman cannot answer, she tells Faror that she recalls nothing not even the sea she came out of or her own name. Faror tells the woman that she will escort her to Kharkanas to meet with Mother Dark and gives the woman a Tiste name until she can recall her own. The name is T'riss. Upon hearing this the woman smiles and says, "I am “born of the sea”. Faror asks if she will walk or ride with her. T'riss says that Faror's horse looks useful and she will have one too. She turns to the grasses and conjures a horse out of them. It seems that it's weight is too much for the grasses used. Looking at Faror, T'riss then conjures clothes, lance, and a sword out of the same grasses. This scares Faror because it is god-like sorcery. "‘Mother Dark.’ T’riss smiled. ‘That is a nice title.’"
Location: 3 days out from Neret Sorr
POV: Sharenas Ankhadu
Sharenas likes the heat. She tans nice unlike most of her cohort. She hates the cold and remembers her time in the campaign against the Jheleck unfondly. She is the commander of her cohort. Her sister and cousin, Infayen Menand and Tathe Lorat, are greatly renowned in the legion and being related to them saw high expectations settled onto Sharenas's shoulders. Her relatives are not currently with the legion. Hunn Raal and Osserc are in the vanguard and Ilgast Rend was not happy to be with them. He questions whether or not Urusander knows what Hunn Raal is doing. Osserc backs up Raal and so Ilgast drops the inquiry. Sharenas thinks Osserc is lying when he says his father knows of and approves this expedition. Sharenas thinks, "Hunn Raal is honourable. He knows what he is doing, and he knows, as do we all, that what he is doing is the right thing to do" She thinks Osserc is impulsive and has a thin skin, but Hunn Raal keeps him from making brash decisions. 3 cousins of Hunn Raal also accompanied them. Serap, Risp, and Sevegg all sleep with Hunn Raal, but their second cousins so it's not illegal. The last of their party is Kagamandra Tulas. He is forbidding and dangerous and hadn't spoken since their departure. They are heading towards the Warden outpost where Tulas's betrothed is stationed. Sharenas asserts that every woman could see that Tulas is dead inside and left his soul in the war. That he longs for death. She contemplates that once Urusander remakes the Tiste into a meritocracy, that arranged marriages will no longer be. Ironically because Tulas had given so much in defense of the Tiste he would be a prize as a husband. She pities Faror Hend and her future with this man. However she considers that Faror, just days after the betrothal, signed up with the wardens to get herself as far away as possible. Sharenas is very interested in witnessing the meeting between Tulas and Faror. She resolves to help Faror out of her predicament although it is only for her own amusement.
POV: Ilgast Rend
Ilgast does not like Hunn Raal or Osserc, thinking the former vain and arrogant and the latter nothing like his father except in appearance. Ilgast does not approve of all the debauchery that his fighting had bought for the Tiste. He thinks that Urusander has lost the plot himself. It wouldn't be long before the legion rebelled under his indifference. He would love it if Draconus was put in his place, but fears this would result in great bloodshed and does not want that. He also knows that if Hunn Raal is allowed to lead the legion in Urusander's absence, civil war was assured. "In a world of blood, everyone drowns". Ilgast is disappointed in Sharenas, thinking she would be wise enough not to fall into the wake of Hunn Raal. He feels he is in the middle of this brewing conflict being of a major house and also a cohort commander in Urusander's legion. Hunn Raal thinks he will help him convince the wardens to join his cause. However, he knows Calat Hustain will not join Hunn Raal. He is far too loyal to his own house. Ilgast remembers when Mother Dark was just a Tiste woman until she found the Gate. "Darkness was many things; most of all, it was selfish"

There is significant repetition of these numbers popping up in both Taylor and Matty's public works so I thought I would bring it up and see what you all think and if you have noticed other instances that I'm missing. Sorry in advanced for this being long, but there is a lot.
Let's start with the most well-known one: 13

• I think that even casual fans know that Taylor considers 13 her lucky number. Her birthday is 12/13/1989. She's had some significant milestones in her career surrounding the number 13 and she famously wrote 13 in marker on her hand during the Fearless era. She continues to reference this number in track listings - even TTPD is 31 tracks, so 13 transposed.
• the poem Stevie Nicks wrote for TTPD has two dates written on it: Aug 13, 2023 and Sept 13th 8:05pm. Obviously the 13th in both dates is interesting but if you start adding things up you will see these dates are very significant. The 8:05 will give you 8+5=13. There is more to these dates as well.
• In numerology, we often add numbers together to get a single digit. 1+3 = 4.

8's - The public announcement of Taylor and Matty's relationship came on 5/3/2023. 5+3 = 8...8 is the infinity symbol. - In the Eras Tour, the stage roomba makes an infinity sign during Down Bad. - In numerology, 8 also rules the planet Saturn. This brings to mind "love you to the moon and Saturn" but also, Taylor wears a Vivienne Westwood choker during her performance of But Daddy I Love Him (she has one in black and one in white), with the symbol of Saturn topped by a cross that looks very reminiscent of a king chesspiece: https://www.harrods.com/en-us/shopping/agate-crystal-messaline-choker-22340482?gad_source=1&gclid=Cj0KCQjwxqayBhDFARIsAANWRnRG1PyYR_3UcHl3igFeRHsyBkMHMWPgAv6-vIx01S9r3lBHNEvlwg0aAqz4EALw_wcB&gclsrc=aw.ds - 4 is obviously half of 8 - 8+9 = 17 and 7+1 = 8 (as in 1989) - 2024 is said to be a year of 8's, because 2+2+4 = 8. There is other symbolism associated with this number but this post is already super long.
4's & 2's - The number 4 has been showing up a lot recently. Matty flashed the number 4 to the camera during a set while they were dating (couldn't find the video but if someone finds it, I will edit to add it). - Taylor has famously been flashing peace signs and even put a statue of a peace sign in her TTPD exhibit at The Grove. Thought to be an easter egg for the double album but she continued doing it after the albums release. - Obviously, 2 + 2 = 4. But 4 can also be broken down into two pairs of 1's. Twin flame numbers are 1111 (so 4), and 2222 (so 8) respectively. - Taylor & Matty are both fire signs. Twin flames are often described as mirroring each other.
3's - Graphically, a 3 is half of 8 (especially in certain fonts). - In ATPOIAM, episode 2, entitled Fame (, https://youtu.be/44ezfnnRE0k?si=YcLcKnJrPHWY-Yyc) Matty stuffs himself into a suitcase (a story long told about Taylor was that she stuffed herself in a suitcase to escaped the hordes of paparazzi and fans when leaving her apartment). The suitcase has the number 3 on it and the elevator goes to the 3rd floor (despite the next shot being on them outside of The Bowery hotel). I've stayed at the Bowery, the 3rd floor is not how you get outside, lol. - TaylorNation put out a promo video that was a mash up of 1989 era images, it featured a vault and it also featured a clip from the Bejeweled music video (which has other interesting references to things happening right now), but Taylor was pressing the button for the 3rd floor (not in the original video). Everyone thought this indicated a big surprise coming on 5/3/2024 (2 weeks after the TTPD release). Much clowning ensued, nothing happened...except Matty posted a cover of his song "All I Need To Hear" to his IG. - Bejeweled MV was released on 10/25/2022...10+25 = 53 and 5+3 = 8 OR 1 + 2 + 5 = 8. 222 is an angel number related to soul mates.
I'm sure that I didn't even write out half of the things I've noticed because this post is getting unweildy but if there are other numerology nerds and people who have noticed this repetition, please add your observations!
Edit to add: Matty's birthday! 04/08/1989 so 4's and 8's abound!

I had a strange relationship with deconstruction as my dad was trained at a university level to do apologetics. He was an LDS chaplain in the Army, and every night for scripture study, we got discourses on the nuances of our faith and justifications for every question we ever had. I didn’t swear until I was 18 years old, or drink caffinated anything until about that time as well, because it was never a matter of justification. It was what my family, my tribe, my people did, to go to church on Sunday, and to be worthy. I was senior patrol leader and assistant to the bishop if that clarifies who I was. I didn’t have “God will reveal it in due time” parents. I had “Here’s the answer, here’s contemporary discussion about it. Here’s some reading material if you want to learn more” parents, except for they were wicked smart, and had biased conclusions.
I was called to serve in the Mexico City East mission. Shortly before opening my mission call, I broke up with my girlfriend at the time. i left BYU-I and went home to prepare. I received my endowments after lying to my stake president about my worthiness to enter the house of the lord. I came clean, and he threatened to not let me go out for a year because I was unclean. The prick made me talk to a therapist to be cleared for the mission field. The therapist had a brain and let me go out. When I was giving my mission farewell speech, I wrote it to include the teachings of many religions in it. I had drawn inspiration from the 13th article of faith “We believe all things, hope all things-“ and wrote a poem about how Adam and Eve related to the Resurection and Atonement of christ. My dad tells me the stake president was shifting in his seat like he wanted to pull me down from the pulpit. Prick.
The CCM was a pleasure to attend because of my district. The guys in my district there held a secret thanksgiving feast after hours when we were supposed to be in bed with food we had smuggled out of the cafeteria. We had look outs so we wouldn’t be caught by the patrolling teachers. My district was placed under surveillance because of politics against our spanish teacher who we could tell actually cared about us, and we were transferred into a classroom with one sided mirrors, and microphones hanging from the ceiling. An apostle came to speak to the entire CCM, and I thought we would get a chance to meet with him directly, or that he would be even remotely accessible in some way. He was kept away from us, separate and removed even though we had the same mission. I played a lot of volley ball, and got into shape enough that I touched the rim of a basketball hoop for the first time while I was there.
My first companion was a native speaker, and liked to spend the mornings in the cyber (Internet Cafe). He would make sure I was on LDS.org while he looked at softcore porn on instagram. We would spend hours there, and I was disappointed that this was the mission.
We went to a previous investigators house, and while there, we saw preparations for an animal sacrifice. These guys were putting alcohol, cocaine, and blowing smoke onto a white chicken, and placed in into a cardboard box with a bunch of black chickens. They showed us a room full of weapons, with blood and feathers strewn all over the floor. We noped the fuck out, and went home.
I requested an emergency transfer after spending most days in the cyber, watching my companion deface JW’s property, and being an all around dick to me by telling me how to shower and how to sleep.
For his replacement, the person that would help me with his bastion of knowledge, they gave me a white guy who spoke as much Spanish as I did because he was only a transfer further into his mission than me. They made this poor kid senior companion to me before his first transfer was over. Why? Because the kid was a workaholic.
The first thing this elder and I did when we got to our apartment was to pick up and leave to go to the house of a member who had just died. We sang at the wake. I sang in a language I didn’t know, for people I didn’t know, with a companion I didn’t know. We sounded pretty damn good. The elder began setting appointments with the non-believing family members during the service. I just sat and watched the mindless kids chase the family dog.
This elder skipped lunch every day, and made me do the same. We knocked every door in our area twice that transfer. One time, he got very sick, and was delirious out in the sun with me while we were walking. I made us go home for lunch that day, and he made me promise to wake him up after thirty minutes so we could get back to the Lord’s work. Three hours later he woke up, chewed me out for letting him sleep that long, and then begrudgingly thanked me for making him rest.
One time, while walking, this Elder expressed to me that he also had some questions, but he was afraid to share the details because he knew my own testimony was fragile. I pressed him for details of his plight, and he revealed to me the darkest part of church history that he had learned while we were in the CCM, that Joseph Smith had drank alcohol while in Carthage Jail before he died. Thoughts of Fanny Alger, of Mountain Meadows Massacre, and of my own mother’s rather recently implemented looser interpretation of the word of wisdom all flashed through my head. This guy was supposed to be my teacher? All I could do was express how sorry I was for his confusion, and told him to have faith. Heaven knew I couldn’t help him.
One night with this companion, it was storming hard, and the streets were flooded. This guy refused to let us go home. We climbed along fences to avoid getting our already wet shoes soaked, and waded through a foot of water to get to the doors that were slammed in our faces. There was a loose wire on a door bell, and when I rang it, I was shocked by the completed circuit the water made. Rejection after rejection piled up. Finally, my “senior” companion said that this was the last row of houses. On the last house of the last row, there was a family that was all deaf. The father opened the door, and was suprised to see us and didn’t know who we were. I remembered the sign for Jesus from my grandparents who started and ran the ASL endowment ceremony in the Saint George temple. The family was thrilled we knew the sign. When I asked if we could come in, the family politely waved goodbye and closed the door on our faces.
Another time when it rained, something fell into my eye. It was one of those freak nature accidents, and small enough that I couldn’t figure out how to get it out without a mirror. The thing stayed wedged in the corner of my eye for hours before we got home and I could finally get the foreign object out. Looking at it on my finger, I could see it was a small green spider. Days later, still in pain, I pulled what I can only assume was accumulated webbing from the spider that I’d crushed against my eyeball off of my lower eye lid. The pain stopped after that.
I bought a $500 camera. It was stolen within a month.
This Elder and I had the good luck before transfers to baptize two children. They would have been baptized anyways, so I didn’t do any actual converting, but I taught a few lessons, got in the water and did the dunk. Bucket list item, check.
I didn’t have enough time for laundry on P-Day, so I’d wash my outfit and dry in on the radiator through the night. Transfers happen, and my new companion lied to our land lords about the electricity bill, paying it in full but not giving a reason as to why it was so high. I didn’t care anymore, I just needed something clean to wear, but these land lord had treated me and my previous companion well, better than the previous landlord who had stolen our cleaning supplies. I felt these people deserved honesty. My senior companion capitulated eventually, and he and I butted heads regularly after that on the morality of things. I think in hindsight he was a smarter and better man than I was.
The new land lords, the “Lagunez Family”, were wonderful. They included us in their activities, and I felt like I had some people in my corner. When I eventually came home from my mission, a daughter of the family had written me a goodbye letter. She is currently serving a mission. They made some great music, and I have “Infiltradors” on CD, the official name of the band the father of the family was a part of (he was the drummer).
I knew the whole area by heart by that point, so I navigated us to our appointments. Half of the landmarks I watched for to know our location were interesting buildings with unique colors. The other half of my landmarks were dead dogs whose decaying corpses had become second nature to see. I began marking how much time had passed by how deeply a certain dog on a certain dirt path’s chest was caved in.
There was an apartment complex in my area that I had been told not to proselytize in because “It’s dangerous.” Turns out, those people didn’t have any money, so the church didn’t want them. That complex was past the dog and to the east about ten blocks.
My companion and I knocked on a door, and visited a man who was missing his legs. His daughter was there, putting dirty water on the aching wounds. He had a single room for a house, and wheezed when he spoke. He couldn’t afford medication. He still went out and worked all day for his daughter, and gave her whatever money he made, trusting her to keep him alive somehow. The church expected this man to pay tithing. The church expected me to tell this man to pay tithing.
I got the chance to hike up a mountain. At the top, I played chess with a chess set I’d procured from one of the best rapid chess players I’ve ever met. He had been the ward mission leader. He was a good man, a good father, and I wish him the best.
I found another man who was deaf and spoke sign language. I sat with him, and convinced him to come to church all by myself while my companion talked with some tienda tender. I was so excited because this was my own personal project and it was going well. The man came to church, and I sat with him through sacrament meeting. In Sunday school (I can’t believe I did this), I accidentally drooled on the guy. I was just talking so he could read my lips, and I guess I forgot to swallow at some point because a dolup of spit landed on his arm. I apologized profusely, and he played it off, but I never saw that investigator again.
My companion and I knocked a door one day, and a man answered. He wore tattered clothes, and maggots were burrowing into and out of his feet. He muttered something about the stars, missing his wife, and he began to tear up. My eyes stung from the stench. The door closed. Somehow, I knew the man would be dead in a matter of weeks.
I had lost hope that I was doing anything worth while. I looked down on the Doc Martins that had stayed with me five months at this point. I was angry with myself for being so useless in the field, angry with the church for giving me leaders that didn’t listen to my needs or perspective, angry with my mom for drinking while I had to teach people that it was a sin, angry with my dad for giving me the skills and knowledge to justify anything, even pedophilia in the early days of the church, to the point where I could look someone in the eye, and knowing the kind of man Smith was, tell them he was a good man and a true prophet of God. Suddenly a man approached us. He said he recognized us as missionaries, and asked about our message. This never happened. People didn’t just come up to us unless they were crazy or dangerous. But this was a public place, and this guy was genuine. My companion talked to him, and gathered his story, but I was plotting something else. I was done with not caring about these people in a way that mattered. I was tired of walking in another man’s shoes, a man who wasn’t me, who believed different things than me. The chopped leg, the rotting dogs, the infested feet, it all swirled into a single thought in that moment.
What would Jesus do?
I walked over to the man, and in broken Spanish asked him to stand next to me. He did so, and I compared my shoe size to his foot. It was a perfect match. He protested, but I didn’t let him get a word in edge wise. I took off my shoes, put them on his dirty feet, and laced them up nice and tight. Those shoes had cost a ton, and had been meant to last the whole mission. All I had left at this point were my fancy dress shoes that gave my blisters back at the apartment. I didn’t care. I walked home in my socks that day, happy as a lark.
Covid-19 hit a month later. I was one of the few they brought home instead of quarantining. After having served only 6 months. I told God if he wanted me to stay home, he’d have to make them release me.
They released me. I think I was one of maybe a hundred missionaries that were released due to Covid. The church realized their mistake pretty soon after I was released. Once Covid infrastructure began to develop, they didn’t release any more. I guess I didn’t serve a full two years, but I did serve a full mission.
My brother served, and he nearly killed himself due to intense depression brought on by Covid quarantine and poor leadership (I’ve got a few mission president stories, but those are for another time).
I learned lying to someone’s face from my mission, and spent the rest of my time at BYU-I as “nuanced” until the last two years, over which the most epic hoe phase imaginable became my new mission. I spent those years terrified of getting a call from the honor code office.
I’m married now, with my degree irrevocably in my possession. I have friends and loved ones that are in the church and are working on their mission papers. I’m beginning to feel powerless again. I’m seeing the decay again, not on legs, feet, or dogs anymore, but in the souls of the people who the church raises to do their dirty volunteer work. I see them like the animal sacrifices I saw being prepared. I’m not sure what shoes I have left to give to those people that I know are going to be in pain.
My parents are out completely now. It was a long time coming, but they are out and so much happier. I’m working on building a new relationship with my family, one based off of the fact that we won’t be together forever, so we have to make the most of our time together now.
Happy Sunday guys, best of luck to you all. And most importantly, chupa la piña.

Hi all,
I wanted to share a little bit about succeeding in S2 from the perspective of someone that is not a 'natural' essay writer nor from a humanities background. Someone that started at a very average S2 score despite lots (and lots and lots) of effort.
I have now sat GAMSAT 5 times in total and I think this underscores a severe lack of exceptional ‘talent’ in any specific area of GAMSAT, and speaks to the fact that you CAN make huge improvements in your scores over time with the *right* type of effort.
(Long post for context but feel free to scroll to TLDR)
Context: I am from a science background and have been out of uni for ~6 years now. I have never been a writer and apart from finding the humanities quite interesting, have never explored its theory in a structured way. I am also not a huge ‘reader’ as many people that seem to do well in this section might be. I am just a person that has opinions on things (as does every one of you!).
My first sitting I signed on with a prep company that had a very structured and formulaic approach to essay writing. They gave students ways to explore topics and ideas to ground them when prompts felt ‘difficult’ + strategies to always be able to ‘write something’. And although I am sure this helped me learn more about the humanities and the fundamentals of classic essay writing - my scores were not great. The first sitting, after ~5 months of intense essay practice critiqued by professionals I came away with a score of 62 and utter confusion about where I had gone wrong. In the few sittings following this I did basically the same thing again and again thinking I just needed more practice (I wrote many ‘classic’ essays, critiqued them and worked on my timing). My scores in subsequent sitings improved slightly however maxed out at around 66 in S2.
I felt myself really confined by the classic essay style most resources espouse. I would find myself spending loads of mental energy thinking about things that I thought were really important for a 'good' essay - like exactly how my topic sentence would link to the next line, or how my analysis would ‘tick the boxes’, if my example was the best one to use or if my concluding statement was linked to my opening one (you get the picture). This would drain my creativity and also created so much friction in my writing.
I knew I could do better, but when it came down to putting my thoughts on paper, it fell apart.
Last year I decided to try to attack S2 differently. I started to dispense with the classical framework and starting writing pieces that were interesting for me to write. That I genuinely enjoyed creating. I often** (refer below) wrote reflectively and explored the prompt in a way that related to my life or my view point. I wrote essays starting with ‘When I was a child…’ or ‘In my life I have …” (whatever felt to me like a nice opening to the topic in my little brain). This way of writing both allowed me to write more clearly (I didn’t hyperfixate as much and therefore it came out less clunky) but also with much more relevance to things I actually knew about! This sort of writing naturally lends itself to be a little more creative or reflective but by no means does it have to be wildly different to a usual essay - it just had a little more flare and less strict* structure. I still wrote something that resembled an introduction (sometimes simply through vignette), I still had 2-3 analysing paragraphs, I still had something that felt conclusive at the end. But by stretching the bounds of each area, I came up with writing that was much less prohibitive and more exploratory.
[** One of my key skills here was being flexible and adaptive - writing a reflective piece is not always possible for certain topics - as one commenter mentioned, writing reflectively about Taxation for example, would be a tough gig. After getting comfortable with not being comfortable (sorry for the cliche) my main guiding light was that I never HAD TO write in a certain way. If a topic stumped me & I didn't know where to go with it from a reflective or personal POV, I might have written something that sounded more like an opinion piece you might see online (toeing the line between essay/article and argumentative style) for example. The key was to know I was never stuck - when I allowed myself to believe that, the writing would flow much easier. Remember, no matter what style of writing you choose in each task - you can not score well if you aren't being insightful - which happens through analysis. This doesn't go away because you decide to make less rigid stylistic choices. I hope this clears that up a little ]
In my first attempt with this less restrictive style, I scored in the 70's, and I think this was truly down to not committing enough to the cause. I didn't know where my strengths and weaknesses were yet, and so I often toed the line between classic essay with a little bit of my own flare, and was not as comfortable with what I needed to do when something felt difficult to make reflective. This took practice and flexibility. This most recent sitting I gave myself permission to write how I wanted and completely forget any of the structural 'rules' of a classic essay. I leant into it completely.
This paid off - I scored an 80, simply through writing in a way that felt true to me in that moment with that prompt set.
By far my greatest and most valuable piece of advice would be to write in a way that feels most natural and enjoyable to YOU. I am sure this has been said before, but I can’t quite underscore how much of a difference this makes to overall execution on the day, as well as ability to grind through essay after essay & continue to make improvements.
I should add here that throughout my S2 journey I worked with a tutor on and off (who became a great friend) throughout my attempts. First few attempts we worked very much by the books writing classic essays, but when I shared with them my desire to try something different they were really supportive and open to working with me to get the best out of it. We used every session from then on to critique my essays. This was really valuable as its important not to cross the line between a personal piece of writing and something that is totally un-relatable to others (after all, we are writing on prompts that are human at their core) - a good piece of writing makes someone think and reflect themselves. My tutor was amazing and their insights gave me feedback on stylistic things that worked or did not. They also checked in at times if It was becoming more of a monologue/train of thoughts rather than a reflective and insightful piece - which I would be cautious of whenever you are writing this way. In saying this, I absolutely DO NOT think having a tutor is necessary to get a good score in S2. I shared my essays with friends and would get feedback on if certain sentences felt clunky or if I was painting a picture that did not come across how I had hoped. I knew I had unlocked something good when I shared an essay with my partner - he was initially reading it slumped on the couch, and suddenly sat up and his eyes widened as he read on. If you can make people feel something, you're a good way there! (And if you're asking yourself if you can - you CAN. You're a human with thoughts and feelings and personal experiences that are unique to you. Use this to your advantage.)
TLDR: 1) Try very hard to quieten the noise around what makes a ‘good’ GAMSAT essay and be selective about which recommendations work well for you (and which do not). There are literally a million ways to create a solid piece of writing and if the ‘classic’ analytical or discursive structured essay does not roll off the tongue for you - take this as a sign that it is OK to explore other styles of writing. This is not to say that every person should try to write poems (I never wrote a poem), or to write creatively. All this means is that *if* you feel the classical structure of an essay is *distracting* you from what the goal of S2 is (to respond thoughtfully to a prompt from your own perspective) then consider stretching the bounds of your writing. 2) No matter the style you choose, *analysis / insight* are still key 3) Get critique on your work (again and again) from various sources - if you can afford tutoring, great use it for critique, if not, friends and family are amazing for this!
**Disclaimer** - this advice won't be for everyone. For some people, writing in a formulaic defined way is the best way to get their thoughts across - and this is fine! I am just sharing my experience of finding a much better way for my brain. I have many friends that I studied for GAMSAT with who wrote great (classic style) essays and scored super well with them! These people probably would have hated/not been comfortable with my style of writing. Choose your own adventure, but make changes if something is not working.
Good luck with your essays everyone!
As requested I have posted links to a few of my essays here. They vary in their general style and the way I attacked the prompts. Importantly, you can see they are all pretty different. The 'Food' essay was the very first essays that I tried to write in this new style. You can see how they generally improved and changed in the way I analysed things. Although this is assumed, please don't copy or replicate these essays or use them as your own - these are my own essays simply to exemplify the general approach I explained. I hope these helps you see it more clearly in action :)
https://docs.google.com/document/d/1Ge3lQhhFpNUADJF2Km0LPjQ9i48rHQPaK6fD-uCBnTw/edit?usp=sharing
https://docs.google.com/document/d/1HkeUgEv8gaad6l7ttiNUO5WcjWB7Wv7s1_dzRHNPFnw/edit?usp=sharing
https://docs.google.com/document/d/1dCKTFDqiCGtvTQNve0GSEagmqIxUlXBMeM5JQH_HvB0/edit?usp=sharing

Hi everyone, my name is James Vang and I have a public service announcement. If you’re all unaware, I wrote a book and narrated it, but more importantly, I am using Amazon’s network in order to produce and sell it. It is 2024, there are no longer people standing in our way deciding whether our idea is worth it or not. If you have a little bit of know-how and follow through, you can do it too! It’s pretty simple if you grew up in the 21st century and paid a little attention to computers and programs.
The two websites are ACX and Kindle Direct Publishing. Anyone can sign up and submit stuff to be reviewed, printed and sold by them. They have programs that review and show you what you may need to fix to resubmit so there is some quality control. I see people out here with Youtube, spotify and FB, might as well throw in some book publishing and audiobook recordings into your resume/portfolio. More likely than not, you have a point of view someone is interested in and can monetize it. Children’s books, old fables, short stories, poems, please share. We have the power to print and sell within our grasp so we must take advantage of it. The world is quickly digitizing and we may need to reach to the cloud to continue to feed ourselves.
I wrote my book, put it into Kindle Create, moved it around for formatting, viewed how it would be on paperback, claimed it on ACX and submitted audio recordings for review and sale. It’s much easier than actually writing a book, though it may take trial and error. Anyways, that’s it from me, just want to let you all know it’s there.
Kindle direct publishing - https://kdp.amazon.com/
ACX - https://www.acx.com/