Does anyone found some up-to-date leshrac mid guide ? Could not find much about him on youtube.
I don't really know why I should max one spell or the other on this hero. Looking at D2PT I can't really figure out why you take zero, one or 2 points in stun, why you would max LS first instead of only 2points in LS and max DE etc.
My guess so far is if I wanna fight for mid, more points in LS and Stun, else if I want to push / farm, max DE asap so I can take tower if mid leave ?
If i'm facing a melee MID with a lot of HP like pudge / DK / Beast, should I max DE ASAP and just try to farm ?
What should be my game plan if i can't be on the lane ? Watch for gank, stack and leech XP ?

I had done a similar post a while ago but now my budget has greatly increased and can consider more options now.
I even planned out the builds for the RTX 4080 Super and the (used) RTX 3090.
I wanna do gaming but also wanna experiment with Machine learning, Deep learning, AI and stuff like that. I've read that more VRAM is better in those situations but having watched video game benchmarks, the RTX 4080S just sometimes performs better and if I'm already paying so much then I'd also be in interested in using ray tracing and DLSS 3 just seems so much better than what the RTX 3090 can do.
So I'm conflicted now. What should I pick? Or maybe I pick the RX 7900 XTX but I'm not certain if that GPU is good for machine learning stuff.
I'd appreciate any help and suggestions.

I F(24) was visiting my college girlfriends in Louisville Kentucky for our second annual reunion at the Derby. One of my friends lives in the town right outside of Louisville and was hosting us.
We originally planned to go to a derby themed party on Friday night called Phillies and Stallions. The party had a list and half of the group got on the list. Those on the list could bring plus ones so our plan was to have the two girls who didn't get on the list be our plus ones. The host was one of the girls who did not get on the list leading up to the event kept mentioning that it would be okay if we went without her if she didn't make it. (Which is strange since she was the one hosting us) Come to find out her new boyfriend was guilting her for days about going to the party saying he couldn't believe she would "degrade herself to be a ploy for the hosting company to make money"
For context girls got into the party for free and men paid entrance and the event was sponsored by several different companies (Standard procedure for almost every party I've ever heard of) To make a long story short we did not end up going to the party because the hosts boyfriend made her feel so bad about it. Party aside we sat her down and told her as her friends we were worried for her and that her boyfriend was showing some serious red flags and the early signs of an abusive /controlling relationship. The conclusion of the conversation was that they would have a "talk on Sunday"
Fast forward to Sunday and the other girls were local to Indiana and were planning to head home. I flew from North Carolina and would be flying out Monday morning. The host informed us that Sunday she would be going to church and lunch with her boyfriend and parents- annoying since our Friday was already ruined bc of him and our girls trip had been planned for an entire year at this point and church can happen any other weekend- but decided not worth the fight so let it slide. I decided to go a workout class that morning with another college girlfriend of mine. I left before the host and as my other two friends were packing up to drive home they said goodbye to the host who was heading to church. They heard her say "oops I almost forgot my pool bag if it's nice we are having a pool day.
The two immediately texted me to ask if I knew anything about a pool day- I did not. They hung back to spend some time with me before going home as the host seemingly planned a whole day without me. We decided to pack up all my bags and I called a friend from college in the area to spend the day with him. Part of me felt bad for leaving. I did not hear a WORD from this girl the entire day until 10:30 PM when she came home to an empty apartment. I had her location throughout the day and saw she went to her parents pool, her grandparents house, a Mexican restaurant, a park, and out for ice cream. I her best friend flew across the country and by all accounts in her mind was rotting in her apartment in a city I didn't know without access to a car while she spent the whole day frolicking around the city with her boyfriend who lives 40 minutes away from her.
Upon arriving back home after not speaking to me all day I received a panicked call from her around 10:30 PM asking where I was. At this point I had a fun day involving a barcade, lunch, pool day and was headed to a bar at the time of her call. I was so grateful to my friend for taking me in on one of his only days off for the week. (He works in the service industry as a bartender and has crazy hours) I informed her that since she decided to abandon me I had sought out other plans for myself besides rotting on her couch as well as organized sleeping arrangements and transport to the airport since I clearly was not welcomed any longer. I expressed my disappointment with her choices and told her she was acting so far out of character that I didn't even recognize who she was anymore. The girl I previously knew was a bright ray of sunshine that lit up every room and never knew a stranger . The girl I spent the weekend with was anxious,easily irritated and spent most of her time typing novels of texts to her boyfriend on the phone. I told her to do some reflecting on the ways her relationship was changing her as an individual and a friend. I told her I was heading into a bar and not to bother me any further because her choices had already caused me and lot of feelings of sadness, stress, and betrayal.
I have since flown home and about two weeks have passed and I have yet to hear a word from her since our phone call. I personally have not reached out (and for context did not text her all day Sunday) because I believe it is not my responsibility. I did know she planned to have a conversation with her boyfriend on Sunday but was under no impression that she would be away all day and I would be left to fend for myself . I do feel a small level of guilt because it is clear that the relationship is affecting her judgement and as her friend I should always support her. But the other half of me feels like that I was not shown any consideration on her part and is holding on that feeling of betrayal.
I'm afraid our friendship is beyond repair at this point . Some have said that I am at fault for not intimating a conversation about my thoughts on the events of the weekend. AITAH for leaving and waiting to hear from her?

Will be visiting in the first week of June, been told that during that time the beach party scenes pretty dead, also been told better if we don't score in Goa so can y'all help with what the party scenes (and raves as well, really wanna go to one), scoring scenes for weed (also planning to try shrooms), also what's the police involvement like (how safe is it to smoke up on a beach or something). All of us are broke uni students can't afford anything too expensive 😭 Also would be a great help if y'all could give similar recommendations for South Goa as well (mainly the Cabo de rama area)

I am the author of https://www.reddit.com/AsOneAfterInfidelity/comments/16hkah9/trying_to_reconcile_but_feeling_lost_please_let/
This account is a throwaway, and I haven't checked it since I created the initial post.
Today, I decided to log in, and was surprised to receive a lot of follow up questions in my DMs.
Decided to create another post instead of answering each individually.
This is going to be a bit of a brain dump, rather than a structured thinking, so bear with me.

• After the post, I decided to break up with her. I approached her and told her it's over. Her reaction of total regret and repentance(?, sorry, not a native speaker) was so genuine, that I believed her. She promised she will cut her contact with him to an absolute minimum at work, or quit the job if I ask her to.
  
• I kind of didn't care anymore at that point so I told her not to quit, as it's the best job of her career so far.
  
• I went for a 2-weeks sport vacation with a friend of mine right after, and so my wife and I communicated only a little bit during that time.
  
• During that vacation and away from her, I realized that no matter what she did - I love her, and even if I left her I would still be loving her. It's like there is no escape from it.
  
• I came back with a renewed intention of reconciliation and started paying her more attention, spending more time together, etc. I still felt shit and sometimes even felt disgusted by her but kept going.
  
• After a few months it became easier, and I could feel similar intimacy with her like I felt before the betrayal.
  
• But still, 80% of my dreams were about the cheating, and about the guy she cheated me with.
  
• Around the new year, we had another deep discussion, from which I understood the following:
  
  • she felt unloved and unwanted by me for a long time, but never intended (as in planned to) to betray me;
  • but spending a lot of time with this guy at work, she felt close with him, and the thoughts about intimacty with him started crippling in. She didn't realise it clearly at the time, but she wanted to use him to get the attention and sex she was missing with me, because he was a safe option for that. She sees it clearly now that she used him, and that's one of her many points of regret.
  • at some point, she gave in to it, was drunk, and basically initiated it herself
  • she felt like she was on drugs and "on the peak" the whole time she was cheating: she was euphoric from their sex and his attention to her, which in turn made her more productive at work, etc; but at the same time she felt a complete detachment from who she believed she was as a person, and would cry herself to sleep for doing this to me pretty much every night. She would promise herself that "tomorrow she tells me everything"
  • she also felt like the guy fell in love with her, while for her it was more of a sex-first thing with some "warm" feelings, but not the "real" love. And so one of the reasons she kept communicating with him was that she felt like she hurt him badly, as well.
  • despite all that, I am still mad at the guy, and should an opportunity arise - I will make his life a hell (within legal limits, of course). Call me a little man, I don't care. That guy knew he was damaging our marriage and he has to pay for it. The colder the revenge served, the better.
  • after learning all of this, and some more, I actually felt easier. It wasn't nice to hear, but I knew it was the truth and it liberated me a little bit.
  • I still couldn't have sex with her for a few more months as every time I looked at her in the sexual context, all I saw was them together in bed
• But as time went on, I noticed I don't have nightmares about it as much anymore, and I felt like I could have sex without thinking about it too much.
  
• Fairly recently, we started having sex again. It's OK. But it's not perfect.
  
• I don't have the hard evidence (I stopped checking her phone), but everything about her tells and shows that she indeed has ended it and her attention and love are directed at me only. Even better: she is really trying, and I feel how it's genuine and how it's actually working.
  
• We are kind of like newlywed right now, and it feels good.
  
• That said, sometimes, I still feel like I am pushing through and can't really let it go and live with my choice. Logically, I would like to see it as a new relationship: the woman had partners before, and I had too, and I am fine with that. Not just a random woman - it's a woman I know very well and I love. So much better that being with someone really new, and potentially getting frustrated. But somehow this logical thinking is not helping me. Oftentimes, I feel I might never love her the same way again, and trust her the same way again. I don't know.
  
• It's hard, but the positives outweigh the negatives. At least for now.
  
• I am very grateful to the people who answered here to my original post. They supported me, and provided some really good feedback. But at the same time, I would like to highlight that in the end you should only listen to yourself. I am much happier now because I didn't listen to the most popular advice - to leave her - and gave it another chance, instead.
  

First of all, I wanted to thank everyone for their kind words and support from the last post. A lot has happened since then, and a bunch of context is needed, so I hope you'll bear with me as I explain the details.
***
Back during the peak of the blinking crisis, I remember having a lot of difficulty sleeping. It was common for me to average only four or five hours a night, and the little sleep I did get was marred by terrible nightmares. One in particular recurred many times.
I was only eight, but somehow I was in the driver's seat of our family's old SUV. My arms were long enough to steady the wheel, but my legs didn't quite meet the pedals. It didn't matter though, since the car seemed content to continue on at a constant pace. I looked over and saw my mom in the passenger seat. Her face was a blurry likeness pieced together from the dozen or so picture's I'd seen of her over the years. I tried to bring her into focus, not only because I missed her dearly, but because she was speaking—pleading, even. She waved frantically at me, then brought her leg up and slammed it down on the floor mat several times. I didn't understand what had her so upset until she pointed out the front windshield, and I saw we were hurdling directly toward a giant tree that had fallen in the middle of the road.
Panicking, I stomped for the brake, but my seatbelt protested and pulled me back like an invigorated dog on a short leash. I sat up and tried clicking it off, but it wouldn't budge. My breaths became hollow cries, and I felt my heart beat against the bars of its bony prison. I grabbed the steering wheel and pulled it to the left, then right, attempting to swerve off the road, but it was as if whatever kind of glue was locking up the seatbelt was also fixing the steering wheel in place.
"Mom! what do I do!?" I yelled, tears streaming from my eyes. She was yelling back at me, but it was as if there was a divider between us, and neither of us could hear each other. I turned back just in time to see the giant Oak tree meet the front bumper, and then I jolted awake with a piercing pain in my chest that radiated up through my throat in the form of a giant scream. My little legs kicked under the covers and tears rained down on my pillow until my dad ran in and knelt at my bed.
"Lauren, are you okay? Did you have a bad dream?"
I grabbed my pillow and hugged it so my face was covered, then effused a "Mmm-hmm" in a long wheeze while rocking to either side.
"Oh, honey," he soothed and brushed my hair, then the tears from my face when I would allow it.
Time would pass in silence, and when I began to get the sense that my dad was ready to leave, I'd chirp out, "stay" in that way children do when they're embarrassed about wanting something.
"Always," my dad would reply; then he'd post up on the floor with my large tomato plushie as a pillow.
One night in particular, it was deep in the night, and I had woken to a tapping sound outside my window. I was so afraid that a monster had snuck into my room while I wasn't looking that I made him lay next to me and face outward. I'd peek my eyes open every minute or so to check and make sure my dad was there, staking out the room. Eventually, he rolled in close and said something that I still remember to this day.
"Hey, baby, guess what." he whispered.
"Mmm" I mumbled.
"I think you scared the monster away."
I tried to picture this through the fog of my fatigue. Something seemed off about the statement, like it wasn't logically possible, but before I could piece together the words to express that, my dad cut back in.
"It was scared because it realized you're a superhero. And you know what your greatest superpower is?"
I shook my head, making sure to rub my forehead against his shoulder so he could sense it in the dark room.
"You're greatest power is that you get to tell the monsters what to do. Because the monsters are only as strong as the stories you tell about them. And there's all kinds of stories. Happy ones. Sad ones. Scary ones. Tell me, this monster you think snuck in, would you say he's part of a scary story?"
"I don't know," I said, confused. "Maybe"
"Hmm," he hummed, contemplating. "Well, I want you to remember this. You have the ability to tell any kind of story you want. Maybe there are monsters, but that means there's heroes and angels, too, right?"
I was beginning to doze off to the comforting sound of my dad's deep voice, but I gave another affirmative "Mm-hmm".
"So, if you're ever scared, honey, just dream up a better story. A story that will bring you peace. Do you understand?"
But I was already out.
***
I woke up the next morning to the feeling that someone was in the hotel room with me. The drapes were drawn and the only sound was the AC unit blowing cold air, but when I looked toward the dark corner of the empty coat rack, my mind conjured the face of my dad, smiling at me, chanting that same, awful line—Oh, Lauren… you know who we are.
I was no longer a child, but it took a couple minutes of cold focus before I muscled the courage to ascend from the safety of my covers and flick on the lamp light. The small amber radius extended to where my dad's feet would have been if he was standing there. But there was no one. I let out a sigh and collapsed back onto the mattress, thinking back on all those years growing up. The same man who had helped me conquer my fear of the dark was now the monster hiding in its shadow.
I looked over my shoulder and saw the clock read 10:15. My meeting with Trent was in three hours. I moaned and stretched my arms back until they knocked against the headboard, then I collapsed back onto the mattress, meditating, gathering energy like a compressed spring. All at once, I jumped up and glided over to the drapes, opening them in a single, fluid motion. I grimaced at the sunlight, but the warmth felt good against my face. I stopped by the nightstand and gulped down the final few swigs of a bottle of Mello Yello that I had purchased from a vending machine the previous night, then undressed and hopped in the shower.
The warm water wasn't enough to wash away the previous night's memories. When I closed my eyes to lather my hair, I was back in my living room, standing opposite the demon that had taken on my dad's form. His smile. His laugh. It was like someone in my head was flipping a switch between the man I loved growing up and a terrible monster. But the fear was more powerful. I heard something drop onto the tile floor on the other side of the curtain. The noise made me gasp, and I opened my eyes while shampoo was still streaming down my face. I swiped the shampoo out of my now burning eyes and squinted at the curtain, trying to see through it, but I couldn't make anything out. "I-is anyone," I started, trembling, afraid to finish the sentence. I reached out and pinched the end of the curtain. My heart was in overdrive. I swallowed, then pulled it toward me and peeked out. I scanned the room, but I couldn't see anything out of place.
It wasn't until after I finished showering and wound myself up in one of the hotel's too-small towels that I saw what had made the noise. I bent down and picked up the stub of a razor blade that had fallen onto the tile right next to the puffy, gray shower rug. It wasn't mine, and I was pretty sure hotels didn't keep unguarded razor blades just laying around. When I held it up, it occurred to me that if it had simply fallen a few inches to the left, it would have been buried in the rug, and perhaps I would have stepped on it. I stared at myself in its steely reflection. Cold. Lonely. Small. What if I—was all I was able to think before the blade blinked out of my hand.
I threw on some clothes, packed up the few belongings I had into my purse, then checked out of my room. I didn't feel safe going back home after what happened, but I also didn't want to go anywhere else. I got in my car and drove aimlessly up and down the town's streets, focusing only on the car ahead of me. Anytime I started to travel down an avenue of thought, I'd make a turn, or speed up, or hit the brakes: anything to keep my mind distracted. It was sweltering outside, but I'd turn the heat on for minutes at a time until I felt drenched, then toggle max AC until I was cool, then back to heat. I repeated the basic driving tenet "10 and 2", "10 and 2", "10 and 2" like a mantra—a chant to focus my attention on a single point, and then I pictured that point disappearing. I began to think that maybe I wanted to disappear.
I fully intended to keep going that way until 1:00, but after about thirty minutes, my meandering route had led me to St. Mark's Catholic Church, where a large group of people were gathered around a long line of tables in front of the building. I slowed down. At the front of the venue was a large, white cardboard sign which read, "Plant a Seed, Share the Joy". I wasn't sure what that meant, but my boredom had come to a head, and I rationalized that if there's any place on God's green earth that would be safe, it was this one. I parked along the closest side-street, then walked over to the church.
Rows of white tables were covered with cardboard boxes filled with small plants that were wrapped up in individual paper pots. I watched from a distance as people behind the tables carefully removed the plants, one by one, and offered them to passersby. I continued down the line, a sheep in the herd, and allowed myself to sink into childhood memories. I had somehow made it out the other end near the Narthex when I heard a woman's voice call to me.
"Hey, deary, have you gotten one yet?"
I turned and saw a small, gray-haired lady with rose-colored glasses. "Oh, no," I started, attempting to decline, then paused. The old lady grabbed one of the plants and held it out for me.
"Here," she said. "Come on, I won't bite."
As far as you know, I thought, and stumbled forward with a sigh. "Thanks," I said and took the plant. "What is this all for, anyway?"
"It's a giveaway," the old woman responded. "Staff have been growing these plants—tomatoes and garlic, mainly—so they could offer them to members of the Parish. The idea is to have the members grow the produce, then donate it to St. Mark's Food Pantry to give to those in need."
"Oh, that's actually pretty cool." I replied and inspected my plant which was at present nothing more than a small green stem. "So which kind is this one?"
"That one is—" the old lady stopped and inspected the other plants near where she had grabbed mine—"tomato."
"Tomato," I repeated. "Well, thanks again."
"Of course, dear." the old lady beamed. "We're all responsible for each other."
I nodded, then continued back through the crowd toward my car when, through the large vestibule windows, I saw a Priest speaking to a young couple. It had been a little over a decade since I had attended a service (I stopped going during High School when I started studying other religions), and I didn't recognize this Priest. He was short (just over five feet tall), bald, and African American. He wore the customary black robe and white collar, and there was something in his smile and the way seemed to be affirming the couple that made me yearn to speak with him. I considered for a moment, a bit embarrassed to be stepping back into church after all this time, but the thought of being able to burn ten minutes talking with someone who might have some insight into my situation was too tempting to pass up.
I waited near a portrait of Mary Magdalene, my tomato plant in hand, staring off at the pristine series of stained glass images portraying the death and resurrection of Jesus. About a minute in, the Priest met my eyes; he smiled, his way of telling me he knew I was waiting, then finished up with the couple and made his way over. He had a bit of an accent when he spoke—it was Ugandan, from best I could tell—and a proclivity for laughing at the end of his sentences.
"Hello, Miss, I don't believe I've had the privilege," he said and held out his hand. He leaned in as he spoke, and his smile tugged on the corners of his eyes which were already marked with use.
I shook his hand and returned what I'm sure was a weak smile. "No, I don't think so. My name's Lauren. I used to come here when I was little. It's—been a while."
"Well, I see you picked a good day to visit. If you're into gardening, that is." He remarked with a laugh and gestured toward the plant. "It's nice to meet you, Lauren. My name's Martin—Father Martin, if you prefer."
"Father Martin," I repeated, "I have a friend named Martin. It's a good name."
He laughed and said, "Thank you, I'll pass that one along to my mother. She loves the praise."
I laughed back. He carried himself in such a carefree way that I was put immediately at ease. Almost to the point where I forgot what I wanted to talk to him about. "Um," I started, attempting to word my question in a way that didn't sound like I needed psychiatric help. "I have a couple of religious questions for you, if you have time."
"That's what I'm for. Ask away."
"They're about… miracles. Like the ones in the Bible. I was wondering, do you think that miracles still happen today?"
"Miracles, huh," he started. "You mean like water into wine?"
"Kind of, yeah,"
"Hmm…" he contemplated. "Well, I haven't seen them, myself. You know, I may be a Priest, but I also have a degree in Physics. I think God made the world according to laws, right? But I do think God has the power to intervene. Yes. I just have never seen it… like … you know, the biblical type of miracles. To me, there are miracles happening all around us—miracles we can't see."
"Exactly," I responded, thinking about how no one else could see the blinks, "those kinds of miracles. What are those miracles we can't see?"
One of Father Martin's eyebrows raised and he rubbed his chin. "Well, I think the greatest miracle is the miracle of God's love which was perfected in Christ and offered to each of us. It's his power to heal even the most troubled mind. By coming into alignment with God's will for us, we can see the true purpose of this existence."
No, he's not getting it, I thought. I scrambled to my other entry-point. "What about the story of Job? God made a bet with the Devil that Job would stay faithful to him no matter what the Devil did to him. Do you think that kind of situation is possible?"
Father Martin's expression drooped into a concerned frown. "There's quite the difference between miracles and the story of Job. I suppose I see what you're getting at, though. Job's suffering is in some ways the antithesis to positive miracles. In this life, we are tested, sometimes to the point of losing everything, but even that person who has more reason to hate God than anyone else can once again find peace and eternal happiness through faith. In fact, it's often the person who is lowest in the pit of suffering that needs the Light of Christ more than anyone else."
I thought back on the first night that I prayed. It was in my moment of greatest helplessness that I reached out to God, and I thought I had found my answer in Him. But now, after what happened last night, after all these years of chaos—not merely losing things that were important to me, but my very sanity—I needed more than just blind faith. I couldn't just sit idly by and hope things would get better. I smiled at the Priest and said, "Thank you, Father, this has been very insightful."
"Of course, sister. I'm sorry if I couldn't have been of more help."
"No, I think I understand now. I've been… wrestling with something, and I think God wants me to confront it. I think I've been running away and hiding from it for so long that I'd convinced myself it disappeared."
Father Martin nodded in understanding. "Well, in that case, will you let me leave you with a prayer?"
I was a bit taken off guard by the request, but I accepted. "Sure, Father."
I watched as he made the sign of the cross, then he lifted his hands and closed his eyes. "Dear God, I am so happy to have had the privilege of meeting with Lauren today, especially on a day such as this where we are offering gifts for those who need them. You have heard her desire to confront the things that are troubling her. I ask that you bless her with strength and peace and a clear conscience, that she may overcome these challenges. God, bless us with your spirit, that we may see your hand in our lives. Amen."
"Amen," I said.
As I was leaving, Father Martin called out to me and said, "Oh, just so you know, this Friday at 7 we are having a barbecue at the Parish Center. I would love to see you there, if you're able and wanting."
Turning back, I smiled and said, "Oh, ok, thanks Father. I'll think about it."
The priest nodded, and with a smile, he sent me off.
***
I walked into the Deli at 1:00 on the dot. The customers who had arrived for the lunch rush were already cleaning up their trash and heading out. I dodged past a few of them on my way down the long, narrow path leading to the front counter. While I waited behind a couple of elderly folk who were picking which soup they wanted to pair with their Ultimate Grilled Cheese, I looked around for Trent. He hadn't sent me a picture or any way of contacting him throughout the day, so I wasn't sure what I was looking for, but I figured I'd see some man half-hidden behind a newspaper, scouting me out. Maybe I watch too many movies, I thought.
"Ahem, ma'am. You're up." croaked the teenager behind the register.
"Oh, right, sorry" I replied and stepped up to the counter. "Uhh," I muttered, scanning the menu for something that looked edible. "Could I just get…" I made sure to mouth every syllable as they were words of their own.
"We have a deal—the try two combo. Sandwich and a soup for $9.99." the cashier repeated for what was probably the fiftieth time that day.
"Yes, that sounds good. I'll do the Italian sandwich and potato soup. And a drink, please."
After I paid for the food, I wandered around the tables, hoping to find someone who looked like a Trent. I was picturing a short guy, runner's build, with long brown hair, tucked somewhere neatly away in the corner. So I was not prepared when the Hulk's stunt double growled my name from a table smack dab in the middle of the restaurant. He had a pale, square face that was spotted with freckles and a sinking property that comes with the lethal combination of stress and age. His hair was relatively short. Probably it was brown or auburn, but since it was slicked back, it looked almost black. And he wore what looked like janitor coveralls. There was even a cloth tag pinned to his chest which read, "Trent".
"Lauren?" He repeated.
"Yes, that's me." I said and took a seat across from him. I saw a brown tray on the table in front of him, and on the tray was a large, white soup bowl. It was empty and beginning to crust along the edges. He must have been here for some time already. "I didn't know where you'd be, so I was worried we might miss each other. I'm glad you found me though." I said while looking over Trent more thoroughly. His large hands were stretched out in front of him on the table. He wasn't wearing a ring, so he probably wasn't married. And his face, it was stern. He seemed like a no-bullshit kind of guy. Then I saw his eyes. They were sapphire blue—probably the most stunning I'd ever seen.
"We only spoke on the internet, so I hope you don't mind, but I usually run a preliminary test on anyone I meet who claims to have abilities such as yours." Trent said while reaching into his pocket and removing a device that had the size and shape of an electric razor. "All you have to do is look into it. It takes maybe five seconds. Ten at most."
"Oh, um, sure," I said reluctantly. "Do I just—" I asked while reaching for the device.
Trent clicked a button and released the cylindrical head which opened, revealing a glass circle about the size of an iris. "I'll hold it, just look into the center. A red cross should appear, then it'll take the picture."
"Okay…" I replied and did as he instructed, leaning my head forward to look into the device. Sure enough, a red cross appeared. "Is it…" was all I got out before the light turned blue and I saw a gray fog disperse and billow throughout the inside of the tube, extending for what I perceived to be miles. My jaw went slack and I couldn't breathe for maybe five seconds. Then Trent reshuttered the device and turned it over.
"Damn, 72." He said with a hint of shock. "That's the highest I've scanned to date." He looked back at me, more relaxed now, and muttered to himself. "How have you been able to function for this long? At this level, you should basically be half in, half out."
I rubbed my forehead, feeling a mixture of pain and frustration and fatigue and impatience which all poured out at once. "Listen, Trent," I said as sternly as I could, "I came here because you said you knew what was wrong with me and that you could help me. I get you have to make sure I am who I said I am, but now it's your turn to pay up. How do I know you know anything about my condition? You said my mom might still be alive. What does that even mean? I saw her die right in front of me. I want answers."
I waited for Trent to respond, but he only lifted his head. I turned around and saw a girl holding a tray of food.
"Um, hi, sorry to interrupt. I have an order 36 for Lauren."
"Oh, yes, thank you." I said. The worker placed the tray down on the table in front of me, and when I saw the food, I suddenly realized how hungry I was. Trent must have also realized this, because he folded his arms and said, "go ahead and eat. I'll explain while you do."
I wanted to protest, but my salivating mouth made other plans. "Fine," I said. I grabbed the metal spoon off the tray and started on the soup, bracing against the steaming heat of the potato chunks.
As I ate, Trent moved all of the items on his tray off to the side, then he flipped the tray over so it was raised slightly off the table. He took his cup and placed it face down in the center, then he rolled up a few of his used, blue mayonnaise packets and charted a track across the tray.
"What are you doing?" I croaked out between bites.
Trent ignored me and continued by ripping up a napkin into strips and placing them alongside the mayonnaise packets. Finally, he snapped ten toothpicks in half and stuck them in the tomb of a dozen overlayed napkins. "It's your diorama," he said at last.
"It's my what?"
"From the story you sent me. Your diorama. When I read about it, it gave me a good idea of how to explain the 'blinking'."
I pointed at the cup in the center. "Is that supposed to be a pyramid? Because I'm pretty sure you're in the wrong geometric neighborhood with that one."
"It's an analogy," he said.
"Of an analogy," I quipped back.
"Look," he picked out one of the toothpicks and held it out in front of me. "This could be a person, an animal, a crowbar—whatever you want. The point is, this diorama is a stand in for our universe. This is everything that exists, that we can see. Okay?"
"Okay,"
"Now, me," Trent placed a hand over his heart. "I'm not in the diorama. I don't exist in the universe."
"In the universe where a cup is a pyramid, or the actual universe?" I said, unable to control myself.
Trent grimaced.
"Sorry, keep going. I get it."
"Things pop into," Trent threw the toothpick back onto the tray, "or out of," he picked the toothpick back up, "our universe at will, based on forces," he patted his chest again, "that exist in other realms" he gestured to the room, "that are connected to our universe," he tapped two fingers against the tray. "These things could be objects, like, say, a toothpick, or entities, like the one you encountered yesterday. The blinking experience that you described aligns with the typical experience of a moderate Antenna. That's what I call people like us—Antennas; because we can pick up on signals others can't."
"We—you mean you see the blinking, too?"
"Yes, but not to the same extent as you. If all the blinks are gathered in a giant picture that you can see, I'm traversing the image through binoculars, maybe even a microscope, depending on where we are."
I thought about this. I guess it was possible there were other people like me out there, but since I had never met anyone, I didn't really consider the idea until now. And then for him to say my ability was somehow much stronger than his… "But," I started, "I haven't even seen that many blinks since I was a child. It's just more focused and malicious now."
"Yeah," Trent scratched his head, "that's the thing that got me really interested in you. Somehow you seem to be able to control it without gear, just by praying. And, look, that's all well and good, but I don't want to give you the false impression that I'm some kind of religious leader. I like to look for logical, scientific explanations for things. So that's the frame I'm coming at this from."
I took a sip from my drink. "That's fine," I said, "the truth is that's why I reached out to you in the first place. I wanted an explanation I could understand. An explanation that was directly related to what I'm going through."
"Then we should get along just fine."
I was scooping out the last potato that was stubbornly gliding along the bottom of the bowl when, out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of the old man from the line shooting up from his bench and standing in army-erect form. I felt a tingling sensation tickle the back of my neck. I didn't want to turn toward him. I knew what I'd see if I did. "Trent," I whispered, trying to tip him off.
"Huh?" he grunted. Then when he saw my expression, he snuck his right hand under the table and said, "Do you see it? Is it here?"
I cocked my head to the left, signaling toward the old man that was now facing us, but Trent didn't seem to notice him: his eyes just kept scanning the entire front of the restaurant. Then I saw the old man take a step in our direction.
"Lauuurennnn, oh Lauuuurennnn, I've been looking for you, Laurenn." The old man said in a low, gravelly voice that gave the impression he was gurgling liquid tar. I turned and saw his face. It was cold and expressionless, and a butter knife was poking out of his left fist. When I met his eyes, he smiled that horrible smile."You're a slippery bitch, you know that?" He spat. "Why can't you just stay put? Don't you get tired of running from your old friend? Or have you forgotten about me?"
"Trent," I mumbled out. "Right there."
"And this guy. You think he can help you? He's only here to help himself. If that's not clear, you really are a lost little lamb."
"Quick, give me your hand," Trent instructed.
I was silent, my eyes still pinned to the old man.
"Tsk-tsk-tsk," the demon possessed senior wagged his finger at me, taking a step, then another step, shortening the distance as much as he could while I was entranced. Then, suddenly, he sprinted forward at a speed that shouldn't have been possible for a man his age.
"Trent!" I screamed.
"Lauren, give me your hand!"
I spun around and grabbed Tren'ts outstretched arm just as the old man lifted the butter knife over his head like a pickaxe. Then I saw Trent pull out what looked like a toy gun from under the table and point it at the demon.
"Got you," Trent remarked. I braced for a gunshot, but there was no noise. After a couple seconds, I looked back and saw the old man sitting in the booth opposite his wife, his hand tremoring as he reached for his large drink.
"What did you?" I asked, but Trent was already pulling me out of my seat. "Come on, we have to go," he said, "the effect is temporary, he'll be—"
Before he could get out the last word, I saw the cup-pyramid on Trent's tray blink out of existence. The sound of a plate shattering rang out from a table up ahead. The lone woman standing there slowly turned around, smiling, with a fork in one hand and a piece of the broken plate in the other. Trent shot her with the toy gun as we ran past and then barreled through the front door.
"Where—are we going?" I asked between gasps.
"My van. It's loaded with kit."
"And then where?"
"Your house" replied Trent who stashed his gun back in his pocket and took out a key fob.
"My house? But that's where he—it appeared."
"Yeah, and that's where you banished it."
Trent waved me into the passenger seat of his RAM 3500 Promaster. I noticed right away the dash which looked more like it belonged in a new limited-edition EV than a cargo van. The ignition kicked on automatically, and I heard the beep of a sonar ping precede an English woman's voice calling out like some auxed-in GPS saying, "scanning for anomalies". Trent shifted the van into gear, and I heard the wheels sputter as we accelerated backward and whipped out of the small parking lot.
"What's your address?" Trent asked. I gave it to him, and then speaking to his dash, he said, "Car, take us to ****."
"Redirecting to ****," replied the British woman. "Currently detecting 31 novel emergences. Updating pings every 300 milliseconds. Chance of contact: 0.23%"
"What does that mean?" I asked.
"The van has sensor equipment which can detect blinks. It's much more accurate than either of us."
"And it sees 31?"
"Yes, that's not as many as it sounds." Trent said and tore past a car that blinked out of existence right as we turned onto the main street.
We drove on for another couple minutes, the Englishwoman updating the number of novel emergences every ten seconds or so. Her constant babbling eventually became a comforting background noise, and I was able to think again.
"In the message you sent me, you said my mom may still be alive." I looked at Trent to see if he would react to me bringing her up, but he remained stolid. "What did you mean by that?"
Trent thumbed his steering wheel. "I shouldn't have sent that." He said at last.
"Shouldn't have… What do you mean? You can't just say that now."
Trent took one hand off the wheel and turned toward me. "Look, we're going back to your house because we need to determine your origin point. All Antennas have them. It's a place of high energy where many realms intersect, kind of like a station, and it's the place where you first acquired your abilities. Based on everything you wrote, I'm guessing that place is where the forest where the accident happened when you were a young child. But I need to confirm it. Once I confirm that that's the place…" Trent hesitated.
"Then… what? You want us to go back there? To the place where my mom died, or at least where I think she died until you told me she might be alive but are now taking it back? That place?"
"It's the only way to—"
"Now detecting novel agent," the Englishwoman interrupted. We both perked up as she gave another update. "Net anomalies: 437. Novel Agents: 1. Chance of contact: 78%."
"Shit," Trent muttered. "Car, course correct."
"Attempting course correct to avoid collision. Attempts made: 10, 50, 75, 79… No alternate route detected. Chance of contact: 96%."
"Time until contact?"
"Time until contact: 13 seconds."
I shuddered. Looking out the front windshield, I saw cars pop out of existence left and right, opening up a clear path to the four way intersection ahead. In a blink, the streetlights all turned green, and then they vanished completely. It was as if the entire world was being stripped down bare, and all that remained was the road, boxed in by the rows of buildings along either side. In the distance I could see a large tanker barreling toward us.
"Trent,"
"I know," he replied and clicked a different button on the console which opened a new toggle for the shifter labeled "TD". He pushed the stick forward, engaging the new mode, then pressed the accelerator all the way to the ground. "You're going to want to hold on."
"What are you doing!?" I yelled, grabbing onto my seatbelt.
"No time to explain. Car, release phase lock."
"Phase lock released."
I watched in horror as the color drained from the road and buildings and sky, transforming it all into a dim tunnel, with only the headlights of the oncoming semi-truck visible up ahead. I had the sudden thought that this was all a dream, just like the ones from my childhood. I looked over and no longer saw Trent, but my mother. And then I realized this wasn't a dream. This was hell. I was being forced to relive the worst moment of my life, over and over again. Just when I thought I had escaped, I was pulled right back into that car, helpless as we approached but never arrived at our impending fate. I closed my eyes right as the lights engulfed the windshield and braced for the usual pain in my chest, for the feeling of breaking.
But it didn't come.
"Shift" was the last word out of Trent's mouth, and then I was infused with the sensation of being at the pinnacle of a roller coaster. I was suspended there for what felt like hours, but somehow I knew that not even a second had passed. Everything inside the van: the dashboard, windows, ceiling, doors, even Trent himself began to radiate enigmatic particles. They were a mass of constant motion, like raindrops falling through the air but never landing. I looked down at my hand, but it was gone. Diffused into an unknowable number of untraceable particles. The world outside, once devoid of color, was now nothing but color. When I tried to focus on a particular spot in the infinite geometric folds of whatever realm we were traversing through, I could sometimes detect a trace of our world.
The old lady from the church. She appeared as if through a window, standing behind a table, holding out a plant. Only this image was so much brighter. And the plant she was holding was pure gold. Then I'd catch a glimpse of the razor blade. It was large, many hundreds of times larger than the van, and surrounded by darkness. These ghostly images appeared like holograms or reflections that caught the light at just the right angle, then dissipated.
I stayed there, looping between the archetypes of my life for a long, long time.
***
I knew we were returning when I felt the first sense of motion. Breath filled my lungs for the first time in what felt like a day. I blinked. And then we were back in town, driving down the same road with the blue sky above. People were jogging on the sidewalk past the little street shops. The streetlights were active. I checked the side mirror and saw the tanker had just passed by.
I looked over at Trent, who met my eyes. We shared a look of knowing, and unknowing. For some reason, that was enough, and we continued on in silence.
***
We agreed to stay the night at my house.
Trent had parked a couple blocks away in front of a couple vacant houses so as not to arouse suspicion from the neighbors. Then he lugged a large duffel bag with his equipment in and set it up in the living room. He scanned the scrapbook which contained the newspaper clippings from the accident several times and confirmed that was likely my 'origin point'. I simply nodded and then went back out onto the back porch. I sat there for hours, basking in the sun. Something had changed in the past day, but I couldn't pick out what it was. Too much had happened. I had too little time to process any of it.
When the sun set, I went inside and Trent told me about his plans for the next couple days. He said he needed to run a few errands in the morning, then meet up with a couple of his associates. After that, we could begin our drive to Southern Illinois. He said it was likely that the entity that was chasing me had first tied itself to me during my childhood accident. For whatever reason, we came into contact, and now it didn't want to leave. Trent would help me get rid of it. He didn't go into many details regarding how that was to happen, but I don't think in my tired state I would have been able to understand much anyway. He had a plan, and that was enough for me. At least for a while.
After our meeting, I made sure Trent had enough pillows and blankets like a proper host, then I retired to my room. I laid down on my twin bed and stared up at the cream-colored ceiling. Then I turned and saw the participation awards for my junior soccer league stashed on my dresser. I pictured myself on the field, running with the ball, out ahead of everyone except the goalie. I took a shot, but it was blocked. Then I ran back to defend. How can such a simple game be so much fun? Was the last thought I had before drifting off to sleep.
I woke up only once during the night. It was still dark out. The room was warm despite the small, flower petal fan churning away, shifting the hot, humid air from one pocket of the room to the next. I waited in apprehension, sensing that something had disturbed me. I saw the tomato plushie peeking out at me from the slightly ajar closet door where I had stashed it so many years ago. I felt like I was missing something. Something important.
And then I heard it.
There was a tapping at my window.

Part 1
First of all, I wanted to thank everyone for their kind words and support from the last post. A lot has happened since then, and a bunch of context is needed, so I hope you'll bear with me as I explain the details.
***
Back during the peak of the blinking crisis, I remember having a lot of difficulty sleeping. It was common for me to average only four or five hours a night, and the little sleep I did get was marred by terrible nightmares. One in particular recurred many times.
I was only eight, but somehow I was in the driver's seat of our family's old SUV. My arms were long enough to steady the wheel, but my legs didn't quite meet the pedals. It didn't matter though, since the car seemed content to continue on at a constant pace. I looked over and saw my mom in the passenger seat. Her face was a blurry likeness pieced together from the dozen or so picture's I'd seen of her over the years. I tried to bring her into focus, not only because I missed her dearly, but because she was speaking—pleading, even. She waved frantically at me, then brought her leg up and slammed it down on the floor mat several times. I didn't understand what had her so upset until she pointed out the front windshield, and I saw we were hurdling directly toward a giant tree that had fallen in the middle of the road.
Panicking, I stomped for the brake, but my seatbelt protested and pulled me back like an invigorated dog on a short leash. I sat up and tried clicking it off, but it wouldn't budge. My breaths became hollow cries, and I felt my heart beat against the bars of its bony prison. I grabbed the steering wheel and pulled it to the left, then right, attempting to swerve off the road, but it was as if whatever kind of glue was locking up the seatbelt was also fixing the steering wheel in place.
"Mom! what do I do!?" I yelled, tears streaming from my eyes. She was yelling back at me, but it was as if there was a divider between us, and neither of us could hear each other. I turned back just in time to see the giant Oak tree meet the front bumper, and then I jolted awake with a piercing pain in my chest that radiated up through my throat in the form of a giant scream. My little legs kicked under the covers and tears rained down on my pillow until my dad ran in and knelt at my bed.
"Lauren, are you okay? Did you have a bad dream?"
I grabbed my pillow and hugged it so my face was covered, then effused a "Mmm-hmm" in a long wheeze while rocking to either side.
"Oh, honey," he soothed and brushed my hair, then the tears from my face when I would allow it.
Time would pass in silence, and when I began to get the sense that my dad was ready to leave, I'd chirp out, "stay" in that way children do when they're embarrassed about wanting something.
"Always," my dad would reply; then he'd post up on the floor with my large tomato plushie as a pillow.
One night in particular, it was deep in the night, and I had woken to a tapping sound outside my window. I was so afraid that a monster had snuck into my room while I wasn't looking that I made him lay next to me and face outward. I'd peek my eyes open every minute or so to check and make sure my dad was there, staking out the room. Eventually, he rolled in close and said something that I still remember to this day.
"Hey, baby, guess what." he whispered.
"Mmm" I mumbled.
"I think you scared the monster away."
I tried to picture this through the fog of my fatigue. Something seemed off about the statement, like it wasn't logically possible, but before I could piece together the words to express that, my dad cut back in.
"It was scared because it realized you're a superhero. And you know what your greatest superpower is?"
I shook my head, making sure to rub my forehead against his shoulder so he could sense it in the dark room.
"You're greatest power is that you get to tell the monsters what to do. Because the monsters are only as strong as the stories you tell about them. And there's all kinds of stories. Happy ones. Sad ones. Scary ones. Tell me, this monster you think snuck in, would you say he's part of a scary story?"
"I don't know," I said, confused. "Maybe"
"Hmm," he hummed, contemplating. "Well, I want you to remember this. You have the ability to tell any kind of story you want. Maybe there are monsters, but that means there's heroes and angels, too, right?"
I was beginning to doze off to the comforting sound of my dad's deep voice, but I gave another affirmative "Mm-hmm".
"So, if you're ever scared, honey, just dream up a better story. A story that will bring you peace. Do you understand?"
But I was already out.
***
I woke up the next morning to the feeling that someone was in the hotel room with me. The drapes were drawn and the only sound was the AC unit blowing cold air, but when I looked toward the dark corner of the empty coat rack, my mind conjured the face of my dad, smiling at me, chanting that same, awful line—Oh, Lauren… you know who we are.
I was no longer a child, but it took a couple minutes of cold focus before I muscled the courage to ascend from the safety of my covers and flick on the lamp light. The small amber radius extended to where my dad's feet would have been if he was standing there. But there was no one. I let out a sigh and collapsed back onto the mattress, thinking back on all those years growing up. The same man who had helped me conquer my fear of the dark was now the monster hiding in its shadow.
I looked over my shoulder and saw the clock read 10:15. My meeting with Trent was in three hours. I moaned and stretched my arms back until they knocked against the headboard, then I collapsed back onto the mattress, meditating, gathering energy like a compressed spring. All at once, I jumped up and glided over to the drapes, opening them in a single, fluid motion. I grimaced at the sunlight, but the warmth felt good against my face. I stopped by the nightstand and gulped down the final few swigs of a bottle of Mello Yello that I had purchased from a vending machine the previous night, then undressed and hopped in the shower.
The warm water wasn't enough to wash away the previous night's memories. When I closed my eyes to lather my hair, I was back in my living room, standing opposite the demon that had taken on my dad's form. His smile. His laugh. It was like someone in my head was flipping a switch between the man I loved growing up and a terrible monster. But the fear was more powerful. I heard something drop onto the tile floor on the other side of the curtain. The noise made me gasp, and I opened my eyes while shampoo was still streaming down my face. I swiped the shampoo out of my now burning eyes and squinted at the curtain, trying to see through it, but I couldn't make anything out. "I-is anyone," I started, trembling, afraid to finish the sentence. I reached out and pinched the end of the curtain. My heart was in overdrive. I swallowed, then pulled it toward me and peeked out. I scanned the room, but I couldn't see anything out of place.
It wasn't until after I finished showering and wound myself up in one of the hotel's too-small towels that I saw what had made the noise. I bent down and picked up the stub of a razor blade that had fallen onto the tile right next to the puffy, gray shower rug. It wasn't mine, and I was pretty sure hotels didn't keep unguarded razor blades just laying around. When I held it up, it occurred to me that if it had simply fallen a few inches to the left, it would have been buried in the rug, and perhaps I would have stepped on it. I stared at myself in its steely reflection. Cold. Lonely. Small. What if I—was all I was able to think before the blade blinked out of my hand.
I threw on some clothes, packed up the few belongings I had into my purse, then checked out of my room. I didn't feel safe going back home after what happened, but I also didn't want to go anywhere else. I got in my car and drove aimlessly up and down the town's streets, focusing only on the car ahead of me. Anytime I started to travel down an avenue of thought, I'd make a turn, or speed up, or hit the brakes: anything to keep my mind distracted. It was sweltering outside, but I'd turn the heat on for minutes at a time until I felt drenched, then toggle max AC until I was cool, then back to heat. I repeated the basic driving tenet "10 and 2", "10 and 2", "10 and 2" like a mantra—a chant to focus my attention on a single point, and then I pictured that point disappearing. I began to think that maybe I wanted to disappear.
I fully intended to keep going that way until 1:00, but after about thirty minutes, my meandering route had led me to St. Mark's Catholic Church, where a large group of people were gathered around a long line of tables in front of the building. I slowed down. At the front of the venue was a large, white cardboard sign which read, "Plant a Seed, Share the Joy". I wasn't sure what that meant, but my boredom had come to a head, and I rationalized that if there's any place on God's green earth that would be safe, it was this one. I parked along the closest side-street, then walked over to the church.
Rows of white tables were covered with cardboard boxes filled with small plants that were wrapped up in individual paper pots. I watched from a distance as people behind the tables carefully removed the plants, one by one, and offered them to passersby. I continued down the line, a sheep in the herd, and allowed myself to sink into childhood memories. I had somehow made it out the other end near the Narthex when I heard a woman's voice call to me.
"Hey, deary, have you gotten one yet?"
I turned and saw a small, gray-haired lady with rose-colored glasses. "Oh, no," I started, attempting to decline, then paused. The old lady grabbed one of the plants and held it out for me.
"Here," she said. "Come on, I won't bite."
As far as you know, I thought, and stumbled forward with a sigh. "Thanks," I said and took the plant. "What is this all for, anyway?"
"It's a giveaway," the old woman responded. "Staff have been growing these plants—tomatoes and garlic, mainly—so they could offer them to members of the Parish. The idea is to have the members grow the produce, then donate it to St. Mark's Food Pantry to give to those in need."
"Oh, that's actually pretty cool." I replied and inspected my plant which was at present nothing more than a small green stem. "So which kind is this one?"
"That one is—" the old lady stopped and inspected the other plants near where she had grabbed mine—"tomato."
"Tomato," I repeated. "Well, thanks again."
"Of course, dear." the old lady beamed. "We're all responsible for each other."
I nodded, then continued back through the crowd toward my car when, through the large vestibule windows, I saw a Priest speaking to a young couple. It had been a little over a decade since I had attended a service (I stopped going during High School when I started studying other religions), and I didn't recognize this Priest. He was short (just over five feet tall), bald, and African American. He wore the customary black robe and white collar, and there was something in his smile and the way seemed to be affirming the couple that made me yearn to speak with him. I considered for a moment, a bit embarrassed to be stepping back into church after all this time, but the thought of being able to burn ten minutes talking with someone who might have some insight into my situation was too tempting to pass up.
I waited near a portrait of Mary Magdalene, my tomato plant in hand, staring off at the pristine series of stained glass images portraying the death and resurrection of Jesus. About a minute in, the Priest met my eyes; he smiled, his way of telling me he knew I was waiting, then finished up with the couple and made his way over. He had a bit of an accent when he spoke—it was Ugandan, from best I could tell—and a proclivity for laughing at the end of his sentences.
"Hello, Miss, I don't believe I've had the privilege," he said and held out his hand. He leaned in as he spoke, and his smile tugged on the corners of his eyes which were already marked with use.
I shook his hand and returned what I'm sure was a weak smile. "No, I don't think so. My name's Lauren. I used to come here when I was little. It's—been a while."
"Well, I see you picked a good day to visit. If you're into gardening, that is." He remarked with a laugh and gestured toward the plant. "It's nice to meet you, Lauren. My name's Martin—Father Martin, if you prefer."
"Father Martin," I repeated, "I have a friend named Martin. It's a good name."
He laughed and said, "Thank you, I'll pass that one along to my mother. She loves the praise."
I laughed back. He carried himself in such a carefree way that I was put immediately at ease. Almost to the point where I forgot what I wanted to talk to him about. "Um," I started, attempting to word my question in a way that didn't sound like I needed psychiatric help. "I have a couple of religious questions for you, if you have time."
"That's what I'm for. Ask away."
"They're about… miracles. Like the ones in the Bible. I was wondering, do you think that miracles still happen today?"
"Miracles, huh," he started. "You mean like water into wine?"
"Kind of, yeah,"
"Hmm…" he contemplated. "Well, I haven't seen them, myself. You know, I may be a Priest, but I also have a degree in Physics. I think God made the world according to laws, right? But I do think God has the power to intervene. Yes. I just have never seen it… like … you know, the biblical type of miracles. To me, there are miracles happening all around us—miracles we can't see."
"Exactly," I responded, thinking about how no one else could see the blinks, "those kinds of miracles. What are those miracles we can't see?"
One of Father Martin's eyebrows raised and he rubbed his chin. "Well, I think the greatest miracle is the miracle of God's love which was perfected in Christ and offered to each of us. It's his power to heal even the most troubled mind. By coming into alignment with God's will for us, we can see the true purpose of this existence."
No, he's not getting it, I thought. I scrambled to my other entry-point. "What about the story of Job? God made a bet with the Devil that Job would stay faithful to him no matter what the Devil did to him. Do you think that kind of situation is possible?"
Father Martin's expression drooped into a concerned frown. "There's quite the difference between miracles and the story of Job. I suppose I see what you're getting at, though. Job's suffering is in some ways the antithesis to positive miracles. In this life, we are tested, sometimes to the point of losing everything, but even that person who has more reason to hate God than anyone else can once again find peace and eternal happiness through faith. In fact, it's often the person who is lowest in the pit of suffering that needs the Light of Christ more than anyone else."
I thought back on the first night that I prayed. It was in my moment of greatest helplessness that I reached out to God, and I thought I had found my answer in Him. But now, after what happened last night, after all these years of chaos—not merely losing things that were important to me, but my very sanity—I needed more than just blind faith. I couldn't just sit idly by and hope things would get better. I smiled at the Priest and said, "Thank you, Father, this has been very insightful."
"Of course, sister. I'm sorry if I couldn't have been of more help."
"No, I think I understand now. I've been… wrestling with something, and I think God wants me to confront it. I think I've been running away and hiding from it for so long that I'd convinced myself it disappeared."
Father Martin nodded in understanding. "Well, in that case, will you let me leave you with a prayer?"
I was a bit taken off guard by the request, but I accepted. "Sure, Father."
I watched as he made the sign of the cross, then he lifted his hands and closed his eyes. "Dear God, I am so happy to have had the privilege of meeting with Lauren today, especially on a day such as this where we are offering gifts for those who need them. You have heard her desire to confront the things that are troubling her. I ask that you bless her with strength and peace and a clear conscience, that she may overcome these challenges. God, bless us with your spirit, that we may see your hand in our lives. Amen."
"Amen," I said.
As I was leaving, Father Martin called out to me and said, "Oh, just so you know, this Friday at 7 we are having a barbecue at the Parish Center. I would love to see you there, if you're able and wanting."
Turning back, I smiled and said, "Oh, ok, thanks Father. I'll think about it."
The priest nodded, and with a smile, he sent me off.
***
I walked into the Deli at 1:00 on the dot. The customers who had arrived for the lunch rush were already cleaning up their trash and heading out. I dodged past a few of them on my way down the long, narrow path leading to the front counter. While I waited behind a couple of elderly folk who were picking which soup they wanted to pair with their Ultimate Grilled Cheese, I looked around for Trent. He hadn't sent me a picture or any way of contacting him throughout the day, so I wasn't sure what I was looking for, but I figured I'd see some man half-hidden behind a newspaper, scouting me out. Maybe I watch too many movies, I thought.
"Ahem, ma'am. You're up." croaked the teenager behind the register.
"Oh, right, sorry" I replied and stepped up to the counter. "Uhh," I muttered, scanning the menu for something that looked edible. "Could I just get…" I made sure to mouth every syllable as they were words of their own.
"We have a deal—the try two combo. Sandwich and a soup for $9.99." the cashier repeated for what was probably the fiftieth time that day.
"Yes, that sounds good. I'll do the Italian sandwich and potato soup. And a drink, please."
After I paid for the food, I wandered around the tables, hoping to find someone who looked like a Trent. I was picturing a short guy, runner's build, with long brown hair, tucked somewhere neatly away in the corner. So I was not prepared when the Hulk's stunt double growled my name from a table smack dab in the middle of the restaurant. He had a pale, square face that was spotted with freckles and a sinking property that comes with the lethal combination of stress and age. His hair was relatively short. Probably it was brown or auburn, but since it was slicked back, it looked almost black. And he wore what looked like janitor coveralls. There was even a cloth tag pinned to his chest which read, "Trent".
"Lauren?" He repeated.
"Yes, that's me." I said and took a seat across from him. I saw a brown tray on the table in front of him, and on the tray was a large, white soup bowl. It was empty and beginning to crust along the edges. He must have been here for some time already. "I didn't know where you'd be, so I was worried we might miss each other. I'm glad you found me though." I said while looking over Trent more thoroughly. His large hands were stretched out in front of him on the table. He wasn't wearing a ring, so he probably wasn't married. And his face, it was stern. He seemed like a no-bullshit kind of guy. Then I saw his eyes. They were sapphire blue—probably the most stunning I'd ever seen.
"We only spoke on the internet, so I hope you don't mind, but I usually run a preliminary test on anyone I meet who claims to have abilities such as yours." Trent said while reaching into his pocket and removing a device that had the size and shape of an electric razor. "All you have to do is look into it. It takes maybe five seconds. Ten at most."
"Oh, um, sure," I said reluctantly. "Do I just—" I asked while reaching for the device.
Trent clicked a button and released the cylindrical head which opened, revealing a glass circle about the size of an iris. "I'll hold it, just look into the center. A red cross should appear, then it'll take the picture."
"Okay…" I replied and did as he instructed, leaning my head forward to look into the device. Sure enough, a red cross appeared. "Is it…" was all I got out before the light turned blue and I saw a gray fog disperse and billow throughout the inside of the tube, extending for what I perceived to be miles. My jaw went slack and I couldn't breathe for maybe five seconds. Then Trent reshuttered the device and turned it over.
"Damn, 72." He said with a hint of shock. "That's the highest I've scanned to date." He looked back at me, more relaxed now, and muttered to himself. "How have you been able to function for this long? At this level, you should basically be half in, half out."
I rubbed my forehead, feeling a mixture of pain and frustration and fatigue and impatience which all poured out at once. "Listen, Trent," I said as sternly as I could, "I came here because you said you knew what was wrong with me and that you could help me. I get you have to make sure I am who I said I am, but now it's your turn to pay up. How do I know you know anything about my condition? You said my mom might still be alive. What does that even mean? I saw her die right in front of me. I want answers."
I waited for Trent to respond, but he only lifted his head. I turned around and saw a girl holding a tray of food.
"Um, hi, sorry to interrupt. I have an order 36 for Lauren."
"Oh, yes, thank you." I said. The worker placed the tray down on the table in front of me, and when I saw the food, I suddenly realized how hungry I was. Trent must have also realized this, because he folded his arms and said, "go ahead and eat. I'll explain while you do."
I wanted to protest, but my salivating mouth made other plans. "Fine," I said. I grabbed the metal spoon off the tray and started on the soup, bracing against the steaming heat of the potato chunks.
As I ate, Trent moved all of the items on his tray off to the side, then he flipped the tray over so it was raised slightly off the table. He took his cup and placed it face down in the center, then he rolled up a few of his used, blue mayonnaise packets and charted a track across the tray.
"What are you doing?" I croaked out between bites.
Trent ignored me and continued by ripping up a napkin into strips and placing them alongside the mayonnaise packets. Finally, he snapped ten toothpicks in half and stuck them in the tomb of a dozen overlayed napkins. "It's your diorama," he said at last.
"It's my what?"
"From the story you sent me. Your diorama. When I read about it, it gave me a good idea of how to explain the 'blinking'."
I pointed at the cup in the center. "Is that supposed to be a pyramid? Because I'm pretty sure you're in the wrong geometric neighborhood with that one."
"It's an analogy," he said.
"Of an analogy," I quipped back.
"Look," he picked out one of the toothpicks and held it out in front of me. "This could be a person, an animal, a crowbar—whatever you want. The point is, this diorama is a stand in for our universe. This is everything that exists, that we can see. Okay?"
"Okay,"
"Now, me," Trent placed a hand over his heart. "I'm not in the diorama. I don't exist in the universe."
"In the universe where a cup is a pyramid, or the actual universe?" I said, unable to control myself.
Trent grimaced.
"Sorry, keep going. I get it."
"Things pop into," Trent threw the toothpick back onto the tray, "or out of," he picked the toothpick back up, "our universe at will, based on forces," he patted his chest again, "that exist in other realms" he gestured to the room, "that are connected to our universe," he tapped two fingers against the tray. "These things could be objects, like, say, a toothpick, or entities, like the one you encountered yesterday. The blinking experience that you described aligns with the typical experience of a moderate Antenna. That's what I call people like us—Antennas; because we can pick up on signals others can't."
"We—you mean you see the blinking, too?"
"Yes, but not to the same extent as you. If all the blinks are gathered in a giant picture that you can see, I'm traversing the image through binoculars, maybe even a microscope, depending on where we are."
I thought about this. I guess it was possible there were other people like me out there, but since I had never met anyone, I didn't really consider the idea until now. And then for him to say my ability was somehow much stronger than his… "But," I started, "I haven't even seen that many blinks since I was a child. It's just more focused and malicious now."
"Yeah," Trent scratched his head, "that's the thing that got me really interested in you. Somehow you seem to be able to control it without gear, just by praying. And, look, that's all well and good, but I don't want to give you the false impression that I'm some kind of religious leader. I like to look for logical, scientific explanations for things. So that's the frame I'm coming at this from."
I took a sip from my drink. "That's fine," I said, "the truth is that's why I reached out to you in the first place. I wanted an explanation I could understand. An explanation that was directly related to what I'm going through."
"Then we should get along just fine."
I was scooping out the last potato that was stubbornly gliding along the bottom of the bowl when, out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of the old man from the line shooting up from his bench and standing in army-erect form. I felt a tingling sensation tickle the back of my neck. I didn't want to turn toward him. I knew what I'd see if I did. "Trent," I whispered, trying to tip him off.
"Huh?" he grunted. Then when he saw my expression, he snuck his right hand under the table and said, "Do you see it? Is it here?"
I cocked my head to the left, signaling toward the old man that was now facing us, but Trent didn't seem to notice him: his eyes just kept scanning the entire front of the restaurant. Then I saw the old man take a step in our direction.
"Lauuurennnn, oh Lauuuurennnn, I've been looking for you, Laurenn." The old man said in a low, gravelly voice that gave the impression he was gurgling liquid tar. I turned and saw his face. It was cold and expressionless, and a butter knife was poking out of his left fist. When I met his eyes, he smiled that horrible smile."You're a slippery bitch, you know that?" He spat. "Why can't you just stay put? Don't you get tired of running from your old friend? Or have you forgotten about me?"
"Trent," I mumbled out. "Right there."
"And this guy. You think he can help you? He's only here to help himself. If that's not clear, you really are a lost little lamb."
"Quick, give me your hand," Trent instructed.
I was silent, my eyes still pinned to the old man.
"Tsk-tsk-tsk," the demon possessed senior wagged his finger at me, taking a step, then another step, shortening the distance as much as he could while I was entranced. Then, suddenly, he sprinted forward at a speed that shouldn't have been possible for a man his age.
"Trent!" I screamed.
"Lauren, give me your hand!"
I spun around and grabbed Tren'ts outstretched arm just as the old man lifted the butter knife over his head like a pickaxe. Then I saw Trent pull out what looked like a toy gun from under the table and point it at the demon.
"Got you," Trent remarked. I braced for a gunshot, but there was no noise. After a couple seconds, I looked back and saw the old man sitting in the booth opposite his wife, his hand tremoring as he reached for his large drink.
"What did you?" I asked, but Trent was already pulling me out of my seat. "Come on, we have to go," he said, "the effect is temporary, he'll be—"
Before he could get out the last word, I saw the cup-pyramid on Trent's tray blink out of existence. The sound of a plate shattering rang out from a table up ahead. The lone woman standing there slowly turned around, smiling, with a fork in one hand and a piece of the broken plate in the other. Trent shot her with the toy gun as we ran past and then barreled through the front door.
"Where—are we going?" I asked between gasps.
"My van. It's loaded with kit."
"And then where?"
"Your house" replied Trent who stashed his gun back in his pocket and took out a key fob.
"My house? But that's where he—it appeared."
"Yeah, and that's where you banished it."
Trent waved me into the passenger seat of his RAM 3500 Promaster. I noticed right away the dash which looked more like it belonged in a new limited-edition EV than a cargo van. The ignition kicked on automatically, and I heard the beep of a sonar ping precede an English woman's voice calling out like some auxed-in GPS saying, "scanning for anomalies". Trent shifted the van into gear, and I heard the wheels sputter as we accelerated backward and whipped out of the small parking lot.
"What's your address?" Trent asked. I gave it to him, and then speaking to his dash, he said, "Car, take us to ****."
"Redirecting to ****," replied the British woman. "Currently detecting 31 novel emergences. Updating pings every 300 milliseconds. Chance of contact: 0.23%"
"What does that mean?" I asked.
"The van has sensor equipment which can detect blinks. It's much more accurate than either of us."
"And it sees 31?"
"Yes, that's not as many as it sounds." Trent said and tore past a car that blinked out of existence right as we turned onto the main street.
We drove on for another couple minutes, the Englishwoman updating the number of novel emergences every ten seconds or so. Her constant babbling eventually became a comforting background noise, and I was able to think again.
"In the message you sent me, you said my mom may still be alive." I looked at Trent to see if he would react to me bringing her up, but he remained stolid. "What did you mean by that?"
Trent thumbed his steering wheel. "I shouldn't have sent that." He said at last.
"Shouldn't have… What do you mean? You can't just say that now."
Trent took one hand off the wheel and turned toward me. "Look, we're going back to your house because we need to determine your origin point. All Antennas have them. It's a place of high energy where many realms intersect, kind of like a station, and it's the place where you first acquired your abilities. Based on everything you wrote, I'm guessing that place is where the forest where the accident happened when you were a young child. But I need to confirm it. Once I confirm that that's the place…" Trent hesitated.
"Then… what? You want us to go back there? To the place where my mom died, or at least where I think she died until you told me she might be alive but are now taking it back? That place?"
"It's the only way to—"
"Now detecting novel agent," the Englishwoman interrupted. We both perked up as she gave another update. "Net anomalies: 437. Novel Agents: 1. Chance of contact: 78%."
"Shit," Trent muttered. "Car, course correct."
"Attempting course correct to avoid collision. Attempts made: 10, 50, 75, 79… No alternate route detected. Chance of contact: 96%."
"Time until contact?"
"Time until contact: 13 seconds."
I shuddered. Looking out the front windshield, I saw cars pop out of existence left and right, opening up a clear path to the four way intersection ahead. In a blink, the streetlights all turned green, and then they vanished completely. It was as if the entire world was being stripped down bare, and all that remained was the road, boxed in by the rows of buildings along either side. In the distance I could see a large tanker barreling toward us.
"Trent,"
"I know," he replied and clicked a different button on the console which opened a new toggle for the shifter labeled "TD". He pushed the stick forward, engaging the new mode, then pressed the accelerator all the way to the ground. "You're going to want to hold on."
"What are you doing!?" I yelled, grabbing onto my seatbelt.
"No time to explain. Car, release phase lock."
"Phase lock released."
I watched in horror as the color drained from the road and buildings and sky, transforming it all into a dim tunnel, with only the headlights of the oncoming semi-truck visible up ahead. I had the sudden thought that this was all a dream, just like the ones from my childhood. I looked over and no longer saw Trent, but my mother. And then I realized this wasn't a dream. This was hell. I was being forced to relive the worst moment of my life, over and over again. Just when I thought I had escaped, I was pulled right back into that car, helpless as we approached but never arrived at our impending fate. I closed my eyes right as the lights engulfed the windshield and braced for the usual pain in my chest, for the feeling of breaking.
But it didn't come.
"Shift" was the last word out of Trent's mouth, and then I was infused with the sensation of being at the pinnacle of a roller coaster. I was suspended there for what felt like hours, but somehow I knew that not even a second had passed. Everything inside the van: the dashboard, windows, ceiling, doors, even Trent himself began to radiate enigmatic particles. They were a mass of constant motion, like raindrops falling through the air but never landing. I looked down at my hand, but it was gone. Diffused into an unknowable number of untraceable particles. The world outside, once devoid of color, was now nothing but color. When I tried to focus on a particular spot in the infinite geometric folds of whatever realm we were traversing through, I could sometimes detect a trace of our world.
The old lady from the church. She appeared as if through a window, standing behind a table, holding out a plant. Only this image was so much brighter. And the plant she was holding was pure gold. Then I'd catch a glimpse of the razor blade. It was large, many hundreds of times larger than the van, and surrounded by darkness. These ghostly images appeared like holograms or reflections that caught the light at just the right angle, then dissipated.
I stayed there, looping between the archetypes of my life for a long, long time.
***
I knew we were returning when I felt the first sense of motion. Breath filled my lungs for the first time in what felt like a day. I blinked. And then we were back in town, driving down the same road with the blue sky above. People were jogging on the sidewalk past the little street shops. The streetlights were active. I checked the side mirror and saw the tanker had just passed by.
I looked over at Trent, who met my eyes. We shared a look of knowing, and unknowing. For some reason, that was enough, and we continued on in silence.
***
We agreed to stay the night at my house.
Trent had parked a couple blocks away in front of a couple vacant houses so as not to arouse suspicion from the neighbors. Then he lugged a large duffel bag with his equipment in and set it up in the living room. He scanned the scrapbook which contained the newspaper clippings from the accident several times and confirmed that was likely my 'origin point'. I simply nodded and then went back out onto the back porch. I sat there for hours, basking in the sun. Something had changed in the past day, but I couldn't pick out what it was. Too much had happened. I had too little time to process any of it.
When the sun set, I went inside and Trent told me about his plans for the next couple days. He said he needed to run a few errands in the morning, then meet up with a couple of his associates. After that, we could begin our drive to Southern Illinois. He said it was likely that the entity that was chasing me had first tied itself to me during my childhood accident. For whatever reason, we came into contact, and now it didn't want to leave. Trent would help me get rid of it. He didn't go into many details regarding how that was to happen, but I don't think in my tired state I would have been able to understand much anyway. He had a plan, and that was enough for me. At least for a while.
After our meeting, I made sure Trent had enough pillows and blankets like a proper host, then I retired to my room. I laid down on my twin bed and stared up at the cream-colored ceiling. Then I turned and saw the participation awards for my junior soccer league stashed on my dresser. I pictured myself on the field, running with the ball, out ahead of everyone except the goalie. I took a shot, but it was blocked. Then I ran back to defend. How can such a simple game be so much fun? Was the last thought I had before drifting off to sleep.
I woke up only once during the night. It was still dark out. The room was warm despite the small, flower petal fan churning away, shifting the hot, humid air from one pocket of the room to the next. I waited in apprehension, sensing that something had disturbed me. I saw the tomato plushie peeking out at me from the slightly ajar closet door where I had stashed it so many years ago. I felt like I was missing something. Something important.
And then I heard it.
There was a tapping at my window.

Siempre he tenido la pregunta, del porque en las consultoras de IT en México, no hay Sindicatos, por ejemplo, ahorita que laboro en Softtek (que me quiero ir, pero ando buscando a ver qué cae), hace un año y medio que ingresé, en unas de sus charlas nos dijeron que no intentaramos crear un sindicato, porque al que quiera crear uno lo correrían, el caso es que investigando, eso sería un despido injustificado, pero porque las empresas como está, se oponen tanto a un sindicato? No sería lo mejor para nosotros los taqueros tener un sindicato donde haga valer nuestros derechos como trabajadores (recibiendo lo que nos corresponde de PTU que acá dan una miseria)...

He estado investigando acerca de cuáles de estos 2 sectores del municipio de Santo Domingo este, es más conveniente en un futuro para mudarme o para vivir en él, pero también me gustaría saber qué opinan las personas que han vivido en ambos sectores y cuál es más conveniente. Por ejemplo, tomando en cuenta el tema de las agencias, los supermercados, las viviendas, los servicios, el transporte, la modalidad y la calidad de vida sobre todas esas cosas anteriormente mencionadas y descritas también.

So…what happened at last night’s 5+ hour meeting? The top story is that the committee voted 6/0/1 (the Mayor abstained) to ask the city for $79.4 million to fund our schools in the 2024-25 fiscal year. This is $8.2 million more than what the district received this year, $5 million more than the number initially provided to the district from the city, and $2.7 more than the number that we received at the May 6 meeting (which included $2.3 million worth of cuts to close the gap between the city’s initial number and the full ask). You can see this laid out before and after public comment (2:21 and 5:09 marks, respectively).
What’s next? The superintendent will present this “ask” to the city council as part of their review of the Mayor’s proposed city budget. Eventually, the Mayor will present a final city budget to the council and once approved, the amount allotted to the schools will come back to the Superintendent as a number so she and her team can create the final budget proposal within that final number. School committee will then need to vote to approve that budget for the upcoming fiscal year (July 1, 2024 to June 30, 2025).
What else? Recap below. As always, observations and opinions are solely my own. Agenda is here, recording is here. This update also includes some clarification about the difference between level funding and level services, as these are terms getting thrown around a lot.

1. Consent agenda - Two amendments (to add a link to one of the subcommittee meeting minutes and strike from the record the street addresses of students who presented at the budget hearing) but otherwise this approval was routine.
2. Report from the Ad Hoc Handbook Review subcommittee - The proposed policy (in the agenda) was approved in its first reading. (New policies get read twice over the course of two meetings to give relevant stakeholders a chance to comment on them, unless the committee decides to waive the second reading. We declined to do so last night, so this is now the time for district and school administration to provide feedback on the policy.
3. Report from Behavioral Health & Special Education subcommittee - The recommendation to co-locate the Curtis-Tufts school in/with the new high school was approved. The administration and building committee will need to flesh this out for inclusion in the materials to be presented to the MSBA.
4. CCSR recognition - summary of the program by advisor Richard Trotter (400 students, 70 projects this year), two student presentations (a high school student who talked about the program generally as well as his Mystic River clean up projects, and two elementary school students talking about their Letter Carriers Safety program), and appreciation for the support of the Cummings Foundation.
5. Humanities awards recognition - Young Playwrights Project, Student Government Day, Boston Globe Scholastic Writing Awards, Geography Bee, Day on the Hill, Shakespearean Monologue Competition, Immigration Learning Center Teen Perspectives Contest, Ethics Bowl, Mock Trial, Model United Nations - congratulations to all students and their advisors
6. High school update & climate survey results presented by principals Marta Cabral and Chad Fallon - This included data comparisons between last year and this year (all trends were positive), discussion of community norms and core values, an update on the exploratory program (CTE/arts rotation and placements), and some highlights from several CTE programs/projects (scarpentry heds, health assisting, awards, licensing, apprenticeships/placements, the biodiesel collaborative project, and the robotics team), three year strategic priorities, an update on last year’s Welch Report (various pieces in progress, other recommendations planned to go into effect next school year), and a proposal for an alternative program proposal to provide a small group learning environment to meet individual needs (pilot was approved by the committee for next school year).
7. Proposal for CTE program expansion and additions - Chad Fallon provided an overview of the enrollment/wait list numbers, shared the results of a (still-in-progress) student survey about potential new offerings (criminal justice/protective services, dental assisting, IT/networking, plumbing/HVAC, veterinary science, and the various “other” responses to an open-ended prompt), and laid out plans for expanding those programs with the highest wait list numbers (auto technology, cosmetology, electrical, and health assisting programs). The committee passed a motion directing the administration to further flesh out the proposals for inclusion in the building committee’s materials for MSBA.
8. Budget presentation (6:38 p.m., so 1.5 hours into the meeting) - Interim Finance Director Gerry McCue provided some additional context for the budget proposal received on May 6. There were questions and comments from the school committee and student representatives (including a petition), and Member Ruseau made a motion to send a cuts-free budget to city council and the Mayor. Public comment from students, alums, teachers, and parents ensued, focusing on the coordinator of performing arts position, marching band and color guard, the Missituk teaching staff, and a smattering of other items including library, technology, administrative assistants, and kindergarten numbers. Also of note, the Superintendent answered some questions about the performing arts coordinator position around 8:30 (3.5 hours in).
9. Budget vote - The committee voted to approve the motion offered before public comment began. As noted previously, this is NOT the approved budget but rather, the amount we (school committee and the district) are asking the city for. The city council will review the request in the context of the full city budget, ask questions, offer opinions, but eventually the Mayor’s office will present a final budget for city council approval and, once approved, whatever the school number is will come back to the district, who will then prepare a final budget for school committee to vote on.
10. Motion to table the update from the MSBA building committee’s meeting last week - passed and, following condolences, the meeting was adjourned. Next regular meeting is June 3.

BONUS CONTENT! What is the difference between a level funding budget and a level services budget? Level funding provides schools with the same dollar amount as they received in the year before. Because things tend to cost more year to year (due to inflation, contractual raises, etc.) having the same amount of money usually means reducing services. Level services, on the other hand, keeps the services the same but due to aforementioned cost increases, requires a higher dollar amount than the previous year. What did the district/school committee ask for this year? We voted to ask not just for level services, but level services plus additional funding to meet additional district needs (the items presented at the May 6 meeting, nothing new since then).
Superintendent should be at tonight's city council meeting to make this ask and answer questions.

cuanto cuesta en recursos y aceleradores subir del lvl 24 a lvl 28 con beneficio de desarrollo y vip 10+ ? necesito un estimado, no tiene que ser preciso.
How much does it cost in resources and accelerators to go up from lvl 24 to lvl 28 with development benefit and VIP 10+? I need an estimate, it doesn't have to be precise.

So, I am working on my first startup. It is just me in the US and my co-foundeCTO who is based out of Budapest. Interesting setup right? Well, we are working on a SAAS that helps users learn, understand, and change their behaviors when it comes to personal finance decision making.
There are so many variables that make up people's thought processes when it comes to financial decisions such as how they were raised, their culture, the people around them etc. We figure that the problem of the lack of understanding when it comes to personal finance is a great problem to tackle, as it manifests itself all across the globe.
So we have created a platform that allows users to take an engaging quiz that categorizes them into one of four "Financial Personalities". These personalities are based on an extensive framework, and help to set the foundation for learning how to make better decisions. Once users are categorized, they will have access to a highly trained AI assistant that is based specifically on their particular financial personality, and therefore is able to assist them in ways that are tailored specifically to each individual user and their own needs. We have extensive future plans to implement additional features that will each add incremental value to our existing platform.
We are currently at the minimally viable product stage, with a full fledged website launched (Finance Rants). Unfortunately and understandably, we are not at a point where we are generating revenue yet, as we decided to give free access to our product in order to foster organic growth and facilitate word-of-mouth referrals.
To my main point of all this, the finances are making it very difficult for us to make it to sustainability. Our expenses are very low considering, but nonetheless it will be unlikely that we can survive much longer than another couple of months without either revenue or funding of some type. Investor funding is few and far between these days, so we certainly can't depend on that. We would consider some other ways to generate revenue, but the problem is we don't want to come off as greedy to our users and our community. We are genuine people and really want to help people make better decisions when it comes to personal finances, so we don't want our desire/need for revenue to manifest itself as a perceived cash grab to clients. On a side note, there is no way for us to cut expenses at all at this time. Any insight or thoughts?

1. Real Madrid is in financial trouble. The costs of the stadium renovation are spiraling out of control (€1.76bn and counting instead of €550m planned). Higher interest rates have made Real’s debt (€1.6bn) unsustainable. Real can not afford to be knocked out of the Champions League early.
2. UEFA assigns referee crews from countries with a high probability of corruption to important Real Madrid knockout stage games. Over the last decade most commonly used were referee crews from Eastern Europe (20x), followed by Italy (10x). Both countries are at the low end of the corruption index. Scandinavian referee teams, from the other end of that ranking, have not been assigned (0x).
3. The extreme skew in assigning referee crews to games starts with the UEFA Referee Committee itself: The Chair is from Italy (Roberto Rosetti), 3 of the 4 Officers are from Spain (Carlos Carballo) and Eastern Europe (Dagmar Damkova, Czechia and Vladimir Sajn, Slovenia). These UEFA referee crew pickers have ignored in excess of 80% of eligible referees all European Countries have put on the relevant FIFA list. Unsurprisingly 8 of the 14 most heavily used referee crews in this year’s Champions League are from Eastern Europe and Italy/Spain. UEFA selects referee crews Real Madrid got the best handle on. The weakest link are Eastern European Linesmen. It gets even better: Rosetti, Carballo, Damkova and Sajn will also pick referees for EURO 2024.
4. For no good reason the referee crews are assigned weeks in advance by UEFA. This leaves enough time for Real to contact, influence and bribe referee crews.
5. Due to the nature of the soccer game (few big moments decide games) and the vague and clumsy rulebook the impact of the referee crew is huge. Offside in particular is a complete mess: The Linesman might or might not wave the flag, the Referee might or might not stop play, the VaR might or might not overrule.
6. The last 4 knockout stage duels featuring Real Madrid and German Teams (3x Bayern, 1x Leipzig) have all been manipulated. „Offside“ has been the main tool.
7. The Linesmen situation is incomprehensible. They are not well known and not well paid. It is not even easy to figure out which side of the field they operated on. Yet these Linesmen, who in some cases may earn €50 a game working in their low level home league, regularly have been the difference maker with €50m or more on the line in early stage knockout games. Linesmen have misused their huge impact to swing at least 5 goals towards Real Madrid in the 4 duels men-tioned above (Lewandowski 2017, 2x Ronaldo 2017, Sesko 2024, De Ligt 2024). The probability of these events (skewed referee crew assignments, mistakes and rule violations in games) occuring randomly over the course of a decade is zero. It's cheating, and the data proves it.
8. There is no UEFA mechanism to systematically and transparently analyze referee crew decisions after the game. Compare that to the NBA: Even though the impact of the referee team is multiple times lower than in soccer, the NBA doesn‘t post referee teams until gameday and issues a report to analyze critical decisions afterwards.
9. The impact from all referee, linesman and VaR mistakes and rule violations on both sides over its last 50 knockout stage games has been worth a ~net~ 20 goals for Real Madrid. Mistakes and rule violations have made the difference in a net 8 of the 23 knockout stage duels Real Madrid „won“ from 2015-2024. With fair and proper refereeing, Real Madrid would not have won at least 2 of the CL titles awarded by UEFA over that time period. Financially, the Linesmen and Referees have swung close to 200 Million €uro towards Real.
10. Referee crew for the Champions League Final 2024 (Real Madrid - Borussia Dortmund) Referee: Slavko Vinčić (Slovenia) Linesmen: Tomaž Klančnik and Andraž Kovačič (Slovenia). Slavko Vinčić was arrested at a Serb/Bosnian Mafia party in 2020.

Me (m19) bat parang habang tumatagal Im getting tired sa buhay ko? Personally I think as an Individual I'm doing good naman, I have wide range of hobbies that I could cope with mapa art man yan or sport I do plenty of those especially this year I'm active. I'm passionate sa ginagawa ko I love it so much, pero ang pansin ko lang It was never enough sa pagod na nararamdaman ko. This start of the year lang kung icocompare ko sya sa laro, I think nag update ang Sarili ko nadagdagan ng Sicidal thoughts. I feel like I have a deth sentence na hindi ko alam kumg kailan mangyayari, dahil na din siguro to sa mga past trauma and sa mga taong nakainteract ko in the process kaya na build up tong pagiging ganto ko. Hindi sya nawawala like parang andyan palagi sa tabi ko, like when I'm temporarily happy lumalayo pero in general palaging asa tabi ko. Take note din pala I have good friends that I could rely on, but habang tumatagal parang di na ko nag rerely not because of them but parang ayaw ko lang talaga, to the point I'm using art to give subliminal sign sa nararamdaman ko. Alam ko it's normal to feel different emotion because we are human, pero pano kung madalas tong ganto? Right now I don't really have an answer sa nangyayari sakin, ang alam ko lang ay I have to keep going no matter what haistttt

El otro dia fue a un junker en el oeste de PR a buscar la gaveta del un carro pero me querian vender el dash completo. Me dijo que ellos no venden piezas aparte y le puse como ejemplo que si necesito el panel plastico de la puerta y me dijo que tendria que compar la puerta completa. WTF! Desde cuando operan asi?

In search of resources to help strengthen assessment and diagnostic skills (as a master's level therapist, LPC, in outpatient setting)...
I spent about ten years working in CMH where I regularly cranked out intake evaluations--- however, these done with me at the computer, filling in pre-populated tabs while talking w/ the client; Generally these were not individuals who I would go on to work with, they were simply added to the therapy wait-list at the organization
I'm now working w/ a group practice and have a little more freedom w/ documentation, and only doing intake evals for individuals I'm planning to take on as clients. I feel like I struggle to come up with a diagnosis that I feel confident about based on our initial meeting.
Does anyone have any experience w/ trainings they have found helpful?
I'm most interested in second wave behavioral modalities (ACT RFT DBT)

Hello everyone! I wanted to create a post here to share some of my ideas on how to improve some aspects of the adventure, which I believe are lacking in detail and attention. I especially want to improve these things because my players are going to spot some of the weaknesses of the adventure early on, otherwise.
Sorry for the long text ahead! BTW - I am a somewhat newbie DM, with this being my first big campaign. Any comments and suggestions are more than welcome!
There are four main topics I want to either add or improve to the story:

Vecna’s Link

I do quite like the idea of having the PCs linked with Vecna, so much so that I instructed my PCs to create their character's backstory with something that could link them to Vecna. Two players already choose to be the descendants of previous heroes that defeated Vecna early in time (in Die, Vecna, Die! for example) while another chooses to be a former cultist.
I want to explore this further by bringing this to the attention of Vecna himself - at the fight at the end of the quest in Neverwinter (before the story goes to Evernight), the breaking of the ritual will be noticed by him (in some telepathic form, or by having him take control of the leader of the cult in this section). He will be intrigued by how so many individuals that had some relation to him are together in the same plot, and use some of his power to eliminate this minor issue, and turning this into something more interesting for him - by attempting to turn the players into his undead servants.
But this attempt will get the attention of another powerful being: the Raven Queen. Since Vecna is playing so very close to her domain, the Shadowfell, and attempting something she detests, which is raising undead, she uses her power to intercept and stop this - while hiding the truth from Vecna (he will believe he has additional undead in his cult, but bear them no mind - every servant of his is irrelevant).
She guides the player’s souls and bodies back to Shadowfell and tells them she feels Vecna becomes stronger, and will try to attempt something horrid (the ritual hasn’t yet started here, but with the rituals happening with the Cult of Vecna, preparations are being set in place). She also says that her role in this will be limited to saving the players' life - she must see to the protection of her domain and take care of the souls and memories of the damned, and hasn’t clarity on what Vecna is up to, nor where. She gives final advise to players that they must be on their guard, for she managed to keep the PCs alive, but not prevent Vecna’s influence on their lives, forever changed by his attempt (hence - the link).
Again - Ideas on how to improve this whole part are welcome: I feel some pieces are missing to make this a better fulfilling story.
Then, I also want to create different effects to Vecna’s link, either something each of my players has or have them roll a d6 to gain new powers/abilities. I will work on this this week also.
During the adventure, I intend to have the players have visions and dreams of past atrocities Vecna has performed, like his actions in Vecna Lives! (with the gruesome death of the Circle of Eight), the hardships of the people of Citadel Cavitus, the horrid ritual he once tried to be reborn into (both from Vecna Reborn) and his power during the battle in Sigil, once he tried to take over the multiverse (as described in Die, Vecna, Die!).
But wouldn't Vecna feel this link with the players, you may ask? Well, not in this case. I want to link to be something trivial for Vecna, something he gives to his undead servants so they can travel across the multiverse, past his influence. I am adding this now, due to the second topic I want to improve:

Why the Wizards Three are kept in Sigil waiting? Or, how the multiverse has a problem - interplanar travels are blocked by Vecna.

I felt that the Wizards Three giving the players a fetch quest of such importance, after being the “answer to their prayers”, and just standing there waiting for their return, felt… A bit weird.
We are talking about three of the greatest magical casters of the universe of DnD, one of them (Mordenkainen - if he was the real one) HAD suffered losses of close friends to Vecna. I find it strange that they would just… wait for the calamity to happen while simple adventurers take the burden of saving the multiverse.
So, a fix to this: Vecna’s ritual is disturbing the ability of any individual to travel between planes - unless they have Vecna’s link.
So the Wish made by the Wizard’s work! It gives them the answer of the only possible party of people that Vecna can’t control, and that can go after him and any other magical artefact to stop his ritual.
But really, is the Rod of Seven Parts the only thing that can stop him? Would Tasha and Alustriel really believe in this plan given by Kasdenkainen?
This question made me think of the next topic…

How to use the artefacts of Vecna and Kas, alongside the Rod

I want the Rod to be the key that unlocks the Sword of Kas. Where exactly, I’m not sure. Maybe the Sword is with Miska, somehow? (Would appreciate ideas here :) )
For me, Kas wants to take over Vecna’s ritual and defeat him once and for all. In his twisted mind, he did this once - with his sword. He NEEDS IT BACK. It’s his sole objective, and the closest the PCs could be to achieving this, the more manic Kas could become and the more broken would his disguise appear.
Tasha would agree to this plan, I believe - she could be the one to mention that theories appeared over the years that the Sword contains part of Vecna’s soul - therefore, could be the only thing to eliminate him once and for all.
She and Alustriel could also hint that some cultists seem very keen on finding other artefacts linked to the Whispered God - the Hand, the Eye and the Book of Vile Darkness. If Vecna acquires his artefacts, he would be much more powerful, and hardly anyone would be a challenge.
This would create a race against time - the Rod would be important as both a magical artifact against Vecna, as well as a key to part of his demise. The PCs would have to find clues about where the other artefacts are - which would become clear with the presence of the Cult in several places they would visit.
I want the Eye and/or the Book to be with Acererak and the hand to be in Avernus.
I don’t know how I would work with my players who want to use the artefacts themselves - Ideas here are also very welcome!
Mentioning Avernus brings me to my last topic…

Mordenkainen and Kas - would the famous wizard here be out there “doing his thing” with the multiverse in danger?

Yeah, I don’t think so. Mordenkainen might have been quite self-centered in some past stories, but he always wanted to find balance in the universe.
So much so that, one of his last appearances in 5e, is during the Curse of Strahd - he becomes a Mad Mage after not being able to stop the vampire lord’s reign. The players in this particular adventure can aid him in restoring his sanity, and he will move on travelling the multiverse and stopping by Avernus, in his Tower of Urm, to study the effects of the Nine Hells in the schools of magic and (again) to ensure the balance of the universe.
I want to try to bring his tower to Avernus as well. I want the players to find him there, bring this confusion between them - Mordenkainen knows he is unable to travel, doesn’t know for sure why, but has seen a bigger activity of Vecna’s cultists even in the Hells and the players believe he is in Sigil, with the other two wizards.
I intend this to be the revelation that Kasdenkainen is a fraud - but he is ready for this.
I want the confrontation back in Sigil to happen with either the defeat or escape of Kas - If the players would still want his sword, they would have to face Miska, or something similar later on - and the rest of the story proceed as suggested.
I still need to read the book in much more detail to add all these things. Will get to it right after here, as I should have already received access.
Thank you very much for reading all of this! Feel free to add new ideas and use my own in your table. I am also at the Discord server under the same username.

Hey! I’m a 25 year old lawyer living in Noida working in corporate. I want to start a support group of sorts for other 20 somethings who are working jobs that suck the living life out of them and are desperate to quit. We could perhaps meet and figure out action plans to quit our jobs and start alternative ventures. If you’re working a job that you think is way below your potential, you’re a high ambition person but realise that it’s not some other multi millionaire’s ambition that you want to achieve and would like to meet like minded individuals, please reach out.

To note, this is a continuation of the sagas I wrote that took place after the Cell Saga. The two sagas were written with inspiration taken from MCU Peter Parker's arcs in Far from Home and No Way Home. The goal was to develop Son Gohan into a proper lead for the show. If you'd like to check them out, here are the links!
Bojack (Far From Home) Saga: https://www.reddit.com/fixingmovies/s/sK5zOnJ0oU
Broly (No Way Home) Saga: https://www.reddit.com/fixingmovies/s/R3sGOqdbIv
There are many things I find wrong in the Buu saga:

1. Goku coming back: This derails the narrative tremendously as he snatches back the torch from Gohan. He's going to play a role, but he will stay dead.
2. Gohan's writing: In canon, we ended up with a rusty, goofy, badly written character who lost all the development from the previous sagas. He became a useless disappointment and did not uphold his role as a protector of the earth. This won't go anywhere near that direction.
3. SSJ3 and fusions: These elements were unnecessary as they did nothing to solve the plot and only provided fluff. This can be introduced in Super, but that's another story.
4. Goten and Trunks SSJ: I wasn't a fan of how they easily transformed, treating it as an easy power-up. Here, it will be earned.

What I want to do here is combine the Buu saga with Fusion Reborn. For that movie, there are tons of elements at play that can be used to make the grand finale of Dragon Ball Z, more grand. The goal here is to increase the stakes, trim all the unnecessary fat, give everyone a chance to shine, and keep the main focus on Gohan. I also want to replace Buu with Janemba, as I find him much more threatening due to his unique abilities which would be perfect to challenge Gohan. It's also here that we avoid the rinse-and-repeat problem that came with Buu and his many forms.

Without further ado, here is the...... Janemba Saga!

Seven years have passed since the climactic battle against Broly. Gohan, now a young adult, has diligently pursued a delicate balance between his studies and training. During this time, he has honed his Super Saiyan 2 form and significantly elevated his combat skills. However, he deliberately restrains his power, refusing to succumb to the depths of his inner rage. Gohan believes that his technical prowess alone will suffice, opting to suppress the primal fury within him. Despite his reservations, Gohan attends a prestigious private school on an academic scholarship, alongside his steadfast companion Videl and their circle of friends. Gohan has embraced the responsibility of preserving peace on Earth as a valiant hero, adopting the mantle of Saiyaman. His suit has undergone a sleek redesign, shedding the theatrical poses in favor of a more streamlined appearance. Functioning as a dynamic duo reminiscent of Superman and Batman, Gohan and Videl tackle the city's crime wave together. Videl, having mastered her ki abilities under the tutelage of Piccolo, has grown stronger over the years. Glimpses of their everyday lives reveal the struggles of Gohan as he endeavors to balance the demands of school, training, and personal relationships. Amidst the challenges, he harbors a subtle resentment towards his duty, as it often encroaches upon his cherished personal time. Nevertheless, Gohan persists, fueled by his unwavering determination to live up to his father's legacy.
However, the tranquil facade is shattered when a harrowing turn of events unfolds. The narrative transitions to an otherworldly realm, distinctly separate from Earth. A mysterious figure cloaked in darkness materializes, none other than the malevolent wizard Babidi. Harnessing the unholy power of dark magic, Babidi establishes a sinister connection with his loyal minion Dabura, the King of the Demon Realm. United in their nefarious purpose, they orchestrate an audacious invasion of Otherworld, intent on freeing the formidable demon Janemba. Ages ago, Janemba had been sealed away in this celestial realm by the Supreme Kais. Babidi's malevolent ambition revolves around shrouding the universe in eternal darkness. To achieve this nightmarish vision, he plans to infect the denizens of Earth using the insidious Majin spell, thereby expanding his dominion across countless planets.
In the midst of this burgeoning chaos, Gohan, disguised as Saiyaman, finds himself investigating a peculiar incident involving the possession of one of his dearest friends. Videl, resolute and fearless, engages in a fierce battle against the malevolent puppeteer controlling Sharpner. With unwavering confidence, she urges Gohan to let her confront the threat alone. Sharpner, his strength unnaturally augmented, puts up a formidable resistance, but Videl's experience enables her to subdue him without resorting to fatal measures. As Sharpner awakens from his trance, Gohan seeks answers regarding the enigmatic force that had seized control of his friend. Sharpner reveals that a voice called Babidi had whispered malevolent commands into his mind. Armed with this critical information, Gohan summons Vegeta and Piccolo to join him in unraveling the unfolding crisis, embarking on a journey towards the epicenter of the ominous power emanating from a series of potent and wicked ki signatures, ultimately leading them to Babidi and Dabura.
Meanwhile, Earth becomes a battleground, besieged by an onslaught of resurrected zombies, soldiers, and former villains who once terrorized its populace. Though the trio finds themselves torn between aiding their beleaguered planet and confronting the imminent threat directly before them, they know their immediate priority lies in thwarting Babidi's scheme. Distracting them with his grandiose monologue, Babidi probes their minds, seeking susceptible individuals to manipulate. Initially targeting Vegeta, Babidi redirects his attention toward Piccolo, sensing his inherent duality as a being born of both good and evil. With a combination of Babidi's insidious spell and the lingering malevolence of Piccolo Daimao, the Namekian warrior struggles to resist the overwhelming influence. His powers surge exponentially beyond their previous limitations, clouding his judgment and driving him to confront his former student, Gohan. Amidst the shock of this unforeseen twist, Gohan assumes the responsibility of awakening Piccolo from his trance-like state, determined to restore his mentor's clarity. As the battle rages on, they sense a tremor that reverberates throughout the planet, an unmistakable ki signature brimming with icy coldness, signifying the presence of a singular entity—Janemba.
Bracing himself for the impending clash with this malevolent force, Gohan prepares to face Janemba head-on, while Piccolo embarks on a personal mission to neutralize Babidi. Meanwhile, Vegeta remains locked in a fierce struggle against Dabura, the Prince of Saiyans confronting the King of the Demon Realm. The confrontation unfolds with brutal intensity, and Vegeta finds himself teetering on the edge of defeat. Sensing his adversary's advantage, Dabura unleashes a legion of demons to tip the scales further in his favor. Pushed to his limits, Vegeta fights valiantly, but the odds appear insurmountable. Dabura, consumed by arrogance, revels in his imminent triumph, announcing his intention to unleash the full might of the demon horde upon Earth. Faced with the dire consequences of such a cataclysm, Vegeta musters every ounce of desperation within him. In a moment of self-sacrifice, he unleashes a devastating attack upon Dabura and his minions. The resulting explosion weakens Babidi's forces, repels the encroaching Demon Realm, and safeguards their dimension from untold chaos and devastation.
(Note: I wanted to keep Vegeta's sacrifice but make it matter and count. In canon, it didn't stop Buu, and he sent himself into cold oblivion on a lie. Here, he makes a difference in the long run and has a definitive redemptive moment. )
Startled by the sudden disappearance of Vegeta's powerful ki, Trunks defies the protests of his comrades on the Lookout and rushes towards the chaotic battleground. His heart pounds with trepidation as he races through the smoke-filled air, only to be confronted with the lifeless body of his father lying motionless on the ground. Overwhelmed by a torrent of despair and seething rage, Trunks' trembling hands reach out to shake his father awake, his desperate pleas echoing through the desolate landscape. But his efforts prove futile, and a profound sense of loss engulfs him.
In the midst of this heart-wrenching moment, a surge of raw energy courses through Trunks' veins, igniting a transformation that surpasses the boundaries of his mortal self. Radiating an aura of vibrant golden light, Trunks ascends to the legendary state of the Super Saiyan. His eyes ablaze with determination and fury, he is now ready to face the battle that lies ahead.The scene shifts, revealing the remaining Z-Fighters locked in a perilous struggle against hordes of relentless zombies. Fatigue weighs heavily upon their weary bodies as they fend off the relentless onslaught. Suddenly, a streak of intense power streaks across the sky, and Trunks descends before his comrades, newly transformed and brimming with indomitable strength. A burst of energy erupts from his fingertips, shattering a ki blast launched by one of the zombies, diverting it harmlessly away. In the eyes of his adversaries, astonishment mingles with mockery as they behold the sight of a mere child standing before them.Unfazed by their taunting laughter, Trunks addresses his comrades with unwavering resolve. He declares that he will shoulder the burden of the battle, vowing that not a single life will be lost on this day. With unparalleled speed and precision, he charges towards the encroaching horde, obliterating each zombie with astonishing ease. Their forces crumble beneath the might of his wrath, and the battlefield is transformed into a graveyard of defeated foes.As the last of the zombies falls, Trunks relinquishes his Super Saiyan form, his energy spent and body drained. Collapsing to the ground, he succumbs to exhaustion, his breathing ragged and labored. In this moment of vulnerability, Yamcha, recognizing the young warrior's valor, rushes to his side and gently lifts him from the battlefield, cradling his battered form with utmost care.
(Note: Kid Trunks' transformation is a direct reference to when Future Trunks found Gohan dead after the battle with the androids, and then he transformed. )
While this tumultuous event unfolded, the responsibility of safeguarding the Lookout fell upon the young shoulders of Goten. As time passed, a sudden intrusion disrupted the tranquility of the platform, as a malevolent henchman, infused with the dark power of King Cold, materialized before him. Though momentarily shaken, Goten summoned his courage and engaged in a valiant struggle against his formidable adversary.Initially, it appeared that Goten held his ground admirably, skillfully countering the attacks launched by the nefarious duo of Salza and Dore. However, their sinister coordination gradually began to overpower the young warrior. In a devastating display of force, Salza executed a malicious kick that sent Goten hurtling towards the precipice of the Lookout, teetering on the brink of unconsciousness.
Witnessing her son's battered and vulnerable state, Chi-Chi, consumed by a mixture of horror and fury, lunged at Salza in a desperate attempt to defend her child. Yet, her efforts proved futile as Salza callously seized her by the throat, mercilessly constricting the life from her. From his weakened position, Goten, wide-eyed and mouth agape, struggled to remain conscious, his mind besieged by the conflicting emotions of impending death and the weight of disappointment.
In that critical moment, he closed his eyes, his teeth sinking into his lip until blood stained his mouth. His trembling hands clenched into tight fists. And then, something within him snapped, unleashing a primal force that lay dormant within.Goten vanished, replaced by an embodiment of unbridled rage. Transformed into a Super Saiyan, his furious aura radiated with an intensity that defied comprehension. With a surge of unrestrained power, he propelled himself towards Salza, obliterating his malevolent foe with a devastating blast that eradicated him from existence. Undeterred by the remaining henchmen who sought to avenge their fallen comrade, Goten engaged them with a newfound ferocity.In a breathtaking display of combat prowess, it took mere moments for Goten to dispatch his adversaries, consigning them to the depths of the afterlife. Unaware of his mother's watchful gaze, Chi-Chi bore witness to the astonishing transformation of her once-innocent son, her heart filled with awe at the unfathomable power he now wielded.
(Note: This is a reference to when Superman had attacked Zod for attacking Martha in Man of Steel. With this, Goten is able to break out of his shell and experience some development. I also did not want Chi-Chi to die, but to have it be close. This way, she can witness firsthand her son fighting to avenge her and realizing that his saiyan blood kicked in to save them all, which would lead to some development towards her accepting that they have the natural power to fight, but also protect. )
Simultaneously, amidst the chaos, Piccolo found himself embroiled in a fierce battle of magic. His objective was to shatter the impenetrable barrier erected by his adversary, Babidi, to halt the relentless proliferation of Majin-infused beings. The odds were stacked against him, but with unwavering determination, Piccolo summoned the strength to rupture the barrier, ultimately delivering a fatal blow to Babidi. In doing so, he succeeded in halting the insidious spread of the Majin curse.Meanwhile, Gohan, driven by an overwhelming surge of power in his Super Saiyan 2 form, charged headlong at the formidable Fat Janemba, intent on swiftly ending the confrontation. Displaying remarkable valor, Gohan engaged his adversary with all his might, momentarily gaining the upper hand in fleeting bursts of fury. However, Janemba's energy continued to surge unabated, gradually overpowering Gohan and relegating him to a defensive stance.With the battle reaching its climax, Janemba unleashed a devastating onslaught aimed at obliterating the planet. In a desperate bid to protect all that he held dear, Gohan fearlessly interposed himself between Janemba's lethal assault and the world, extending his arms wide as he summoned the last vestiges of his ki to create a resolute energy shield. The technique demanded one final act of defiance, compelling Gohan to redirect the unleashed energy back towards Janemba, propelling the malevolent entity backward and teetering on the precipice of annihilation. Yet, the maneuver exacted a heavy toll on Gohan, leaving him grievously injured and drained of consciousness, hurtling through the sky and crashing deep into the untamed wilderness.
(Note: This maneuver is a mix of what Gohan did against Broly in Movie 10, and what Future Gohan did in his last battle against the androids.)
Subsequently, Supreme Kai, recognizing the dire condition of the young warrior, transported Gohan to the realm of the Kais. As Gohan gradually regained consciousness, he found himself surrounded by the presence of Supreme Kai, Kibito, and his father, Son Goku. Unbeknownst to Gohan, while the realms beyond had been engulfed in pandemonium, Goku had valiantly sought to subdue numerous formidable adversaries, most notably Broly. Upon learning of Gohan's presence on that distant planet, Goku implored for the opportunity to visit his son, a request that was granted amidst the bittersweet reunion.During their heartfelt meeting, they shared the weight of overseeing the turmoil ravaging Earth, realizing that Janemba still lingered, amassing the remnants of malevolent ki left unvanquished. Panic washed over Gohan as he urgently expressed his need to return to Earth, but his pleas were met with cautionary words from his loved ones. They acknowledged his unpreparedness to face Janemba anew, warning of the potential consequences should he engage the foe prematurely. Supreme Kai disclosed his true intention in bringing Gohan to this realm—to unlock the dormant power lying dormant within him. However, the process demanded a profound reconciliation of Gohan's dual nature as both human and Saiyan. To initiate this transformative ritual, Gohan would be immersed in a meditative trance within the sacred confines of a cascading waterfall, which would serve as a mirror reflecting his true self. Only then would he embark upon the arduous journey of unlocking his latent potential, fully aware that failure could result in dire consequences, even death.
Nervously, Gohan steeled himself for the imminent trial, drawing strength from the unwavering support of his father. With resolute determination, he approached the cascading waterfall, where Supreme Kai initiated the trance, enveloping Gohan in an ethereal aura of introspection.As the ritual commenced, Gohan's gaze fixated grimly upon vivid recollections of his past battles, struggling to reconcile the moments when he had succumbed to his own wrath. Before long, a projection materialized, representing his suppressed Saiyan essence—a separate entity demanding to be acknowledged. A tumultuous clash ensued between the two facets of Gohan's being, with the young warrior faltering in his attempts to gain the upper hand, for each surge of anger only fueled his other self. Finally, a profound realization washed over Gohan, piercing through the haze of conflict. He ceased resisting and, instead, extended a hand of acceptance and understanding to his Saiyan counterpart, embracing the essence of his true nature. In that transformative instant, the boundaries dissolved, merging into a harmonious unity. Gohan's eyes fluttered open as he awakened from the trance, reborn in his newfound Ultimate Form, his essence finally whole and indomitable.
(Note: Yes, this is a direct reference to Naruto obtaining true mastery of his nine tails form in Shippuden. I did not like Gohan's canon mystic ritual because it did not feel earned. He just sat around for a long time doing nothing and gained nothing from it. I wanted to fix that. So here, he went through a more direct ritual at the risk of death to be able to unlock his true abilities. )
In the midst of these events, Trunks and Goten find themselves under the tutelage of Piccolo within the formidable Hyperbolic Time Chamber. News reaches Piccolo that Gohan is undergoing a transformative process to unlock his latent potential, but the looming return of Janemba threatens to disrupt their plans. Exiting the chamber, Trunks and Goten emerge stronger than ever, having mastered their Super Saiyan forms and honed their teamwork to near perfection, compensating for their inherent power limitations.As Janemba crosses paths with them, the clash erupts in a spectacular display of martial prowess. Individually, they stand little chance against the overwhelming might of Janemba, but when united, a different narrative unfolds. Their combined efforts aim to sustain the battle long enough, providing Gohan with the precious time he needs to complete his ritual. Piccolo assumes leadership, valiantly holding his ground, although it becomes increasingly evident that Janemba possesses a distinct advantage. Piccolo strategically diverts Janemba's attention, creating openings for Goten and Trunks to launch coordinated assaults that vex their adversary, even if their impact is minimal. Nonetheless, every second counts.
In a fateful turn of events, Janemba unleashes an assault that overwhelms Piccolo, incapacitating him and leaving only Goten and Trunks to face the malevolent entity. Swift as a phantom, Janemba materializes in front of Trunks, delivering a devastating blow to his abdomen, leaving Goten as the lone defender. Standing tall, Goten defiantly assumes a battle stance, mustering his courage. However, before Janemba can unleash a devastating attack upon him, an unknown figure delivers a powerful kick to Janemba's head, hurtling him towards the distant mountains.
The camera pans, revealing the figure to be none other than Gohan, resplendent in his newfound form.
(Note: This entrance directly mirrors that of Future Gohan when he was about to begin his final battle against the Androids!)
A wave of elation washes over Goten as he beholds the return of his beloved elder brother, while Trunks and Piccolo visibly exhale with relief. Gohan and Piccolo exchange a brief but meaningful exchange, Gohan acknowledging his newfound strength while Piccolo recognizes that Gohan has ascended to an entirely different echelon. Janemba regains his footing, reemerging before them, demanding their attention and focus. Gohan asserts that he will confront Janemba directly, urging the others to evacuate. Though reluctant, Piccolo and the young warriors comply, dispersing to various parts of the world to address the chaos that plagues their surroundings.
With an air of fury, Janemba charges at Gohan, his fist extended menacingly. Yet Gohan intercepts the attack, seizing Janemba's fist in a vice-like grip, and in a flash of teleportation, they are transported to the dreaded realm of H.F.I.L. (Home For Infinite Losers).
(Note: I have Gohan teleport Janemba because at least this way their battle will not damage Earth. Also we will assume Gohan has figured out some sort of Instant Transmission movement like Goku.)
The eyes of Earth's denizens, the Kais, and the denizens of the Otherworld are fixated on this pivotal moment, the culmination of a battle that will determine the fate of the universe. And so, the clash commences, a cataclysmic struggle that echoes through the very fabric of existence.
In a breathtaking display of power, Gohan initially dominates the battle, effortlessly overpowering Janemba with his newfound might. However, the tables turn when Janemba unveils unexpected abilities: space-time manipulation and a formidable sword. Gohan is caught off guard, unsure of how to counter such unorthodox tactics. Desperation and frustration consume him, causing his control over his own power to slip away.Amidst the chaos, Gohan experiences a moment of revelation, a surge of understanding regarding his opponent's abilities. He realizes that in order to anticipate Janemba's next move, he must heighten his senses by channeling his ki, allowing for precise timing and swift reactions. With this newfound clarity, Gohan regains his composure, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. Seizing an opportunity, Janemba materializes before him, poised to strike with his sword. Yet, in a stunning display of strength, Gohan catches the blade with both hands, shattering it into pieces.
The tide of the battle begins to shift, albeit slightly, in Gohan's favor. Frustrated and bewildered, Janemba exclaims, "Just what...are you?!" Gohan responds with unwavering resolve, proclaiming, "I am the hope of the universe. I am the answer to all living things that cry out for peace. I am the protector of the innocent. I am the light in the darkness. I am truth. Ally to good! Nightmare to you!"
(Note: I'm taking Goku's dubbed speech against Frieza and repurposing it for Gohan. As he's inherently more the justice-driven hero archetype rather than the fighting maniac that is Goku, it makes more sense. We'll just assume Goku gave Frieza the manga version of his speech. This is also the most pivotal moment of Gohan's journey as he comes to terms with being a protector. Throughout the show, he's been struggling between his desire to be a scholar and his responsibility to be a hero. That dubbed speech is exactly the moment that Gohan's arc comes full circle. Here, he finally embraces what he was always meant to be..... the hero.)
With renewed determination, Gohan launches various assaults in a bid to defeat his formidable adversary. However, his attacks fail to inflict lasting damage, and Gohan himself begins to exhaust his ki. It is then that he realizes the true nature of Janemba's existence—he is an embodiment of pure evil ki, unlike any opponent Gohan has faced before. A desperate plan takes shape in Gohan's mind. Mentally reaching out to his friends and even Videl, he calls upon them to gather their ki, reminiscent of the Spirit Bomb technique. Initially, only the Z-Fighters respond, but their combined energy proves insufficient.As Gohan valiantly defends against Janemba's onslaught, he mentally pleads with the people of Earth to lend their aid. Uncertainty and doubt cast a shadow over the crowd until Hercule steps forward, berating them for refusing to support the man who once saved them during the Cell Games. Revealing the truth of Gohan's identity as the Delivery Boy turned hero, the tide of public opinion shifts. People extend their hands, offering their energy to their savior. Shocked by the sudden turn of events, Gohan is relieved by the surge of ki coursing through him, providing a momentary opening to kick Janemba away. The collective assistance grants Gohan a substantial reservoir of energy, which he then summons forth, infusing it with the very essence of his soul—a daring and perilous maneuver.
Driven to his breaking point, a furious Janemba ascends into the sky, conjuring a colossal sphere of malevolent ki capable of obliterating the entire universe. Gohan remains calm, his gaze fixed upon the impending cataclysm. With unwavering resolve, he declares, "This is the end for you, Janemba." Closing his eyes, Gohan raises his left hand above his head, conjuring a radiant sphere of rainbow light. Seizing the opportunity, Janemba hurls his devastating attack towards Gohan. Sensing the imminent danger, Gohan's eyes snap open as he crushes the ball of energy in his palm. Swiftly pivoting, he hurls the fragmented energy towards the oncoming attack, effortlessly piercing through it, and hurtling towards Janemba, finally eradicating the universe's peril once and for all.
(Note: This is the same technique as Kid Buu's Planet Burst move, the one that destroyed Earth. I also repurposed Gogeta's stardust breaker technique for Gohan as I feel it makes sense for him to have it. It also makes him stand out from Goku even more in this case.)
As the dust settles, Gohan maintains his energy long enough to witness Janemba's demise. A triumphant smirk graces his face as he remarks, "Heh, looks like I finally did it." Exhausted, he collapses to the ground, almost completely drained. The onlookers erupt into joyous cheers, celebrating Gohan's hard-fought victory. Supreme Kai teleports Gohan from the depths of H.F.I.L back to Earth, specifically to the Lookout, where his family and friends eagerly await his return. In a heartwarming scene, Gohan is enveloped in embraces and expressions of relief. It is here, amidst the warmth of their loved ones, that Gohan and Videl share their first kiss—a tender moment of connection and celebration.Meanwhile, the Dragon Balls work their magic, rectifying the chaos caused by Babidi's dark influence. The majority of those who perished are revived, yet there are exceptions, including Vegeta. Accepting his fate and determined to atone for his past deeds, Vegeta expresses his desire to continue growing stronger in the afterlife, entrusting the protection of his family to his son. Tearfully, Trunks vows to make his father proud, with Goten stepping forward to support his friend in this emotional moment. Fond farewells are exchanged as everyone prepares to return to their respective homes.
Gohan and Goten engage in a heartfelt conversation, their bond as brothers strengthening. However, their exchange is interrupted by Chi-Chi, who unexpectedly interrupts their conversation. To their astonishment, she expresses pride in their valiant efforts to safeguard the world, finally relenting and granting them permission to train and protect. The three embrace, their family united and resolute.In a different realm, Vegeta stands before King Yemma, awaiting judgment. To his surprise, he is granted an Otherworldly body, a result of Goku's recommendation and Vegeta's ultimate sacrifice that tipped the scales of justice. With this second chance, Vegeta is granted the opportunity to train ceaselessly and, more importantly, to settle his unfinished business with Goku. The final scene between Goku and Vegeta unfolds, their fists colliding in a charged confrontation, their image freezing .( mirroring the intensity of Rocky and Apollo in Rocky III, leaving their ultimate showdown to the imagination.)
A decade passes, marked by a time skip. Tien and Krillin have established their own martial arts schools, dedicated to passing on their unique styles to the next generation. Goten and Trunks, under the tutelage of Piccolo, diligently train to harness their extraordinary powers. Gohan, now a respected scholar, has married Videl, and together they have a daughter. At home, Videl imparts the basics of combat to their daughter, Pan. Gohan, having just finished delivering a lecture on energy at the university, senses a disturbance reverberating across the planet. Instinctively, he rushes to the rooftop, pressing a button on his wrist. In an instant, he transforms into his iconic Saiyaman costume, soaring into the horizon with a mischievous grin. He breaks through the fourth wall, symbolizing his unwavering resolve to protect and inspire.
The screen fades to black.
The End.
There we have it! My final wrap-up of the MCU Peter ParkeGohan development journey! Honestly, I did have thoughts of just going straight into revising the Buu arc, but I felt there was more to be done before that. Gohan needed to go through the development I gave him in my two written arcs as there were lessons there that shaped him.
I also felt that a trained Gohan, who is naturally intellectual, would be a perfect antagonist in Janemba. He had to learn to outsmart him, and not just have it be a straight-up slugfest.
What do you guys think? Share your thoughts below!
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