Formal written warning

Buckle up, this is going to be confusing and long. I have to say from now that I actually have major "memory gaps" from alot of what happened and most of what I'll say from now is information I had to gather from people who were around me when this happened.
Last week, in school, I was sitting with my friends in the cafeteria area. I looked at my watch and realized the date of the day and thought "my dad is coming back today from traveling" (he was in another country), I just remembered a past memory of him yelling at me and abusing me. Now the thing I don't understand is that suddenly I kept having multiple "flashbacks", both visual and auditory, of the abuse my family put me through, including my dad. I wanted it to stop but I realized I couldn't, I was literally paralyzed on the outside. I tried to nudge my friend beside me but I could barely twitch my finger. (she was distracted with my other friend and had her head turned away from me). The best way I could explain the "flashbacks" is that it was like if you had multiple Tvs around you playing multiple movies, aka memories, all at once at high speed and volume.
I realized my heart was beating very fast and loudly, and even in less stressful situation than this one, feeling my heart makes me anxious. Luckily one of my other friends came to sit with us and noticed how I was. I tried with all my strength to talk to them and tell them what's happening but I was "paralyzed" and couldn't tell them. I was already extremely distressed and realizing how badly I couldn't react made me start crying involuntarily and they called the doctor assuming I was ill. Obviously the doctor realized I wasn't sick and told me to just drink juice. The more she asked questions and the more I didn't respond, the more she got frustrated at me. By that point they called my sister who also got mad at me for not talking. By then, the break had ended for a while and I don't know how but I ended up in my classroom, I think i just literally walked there but I don't remember doing that at all. Then I sat down on a chair next to the supervisors table and, once again, I don't remember what happened but I realized time had passed and there were multiple people surrounding me and one of my friends was on her knees infront me trying to talk to me. And when I realized I don't remember her walking up to me at all, talking to me, kneeling down beside me, I was so frightened and just started sobbing. I don't remember much from here but I do know, from my friends, that the supervisor told everyone to go back to their class. I should mention that my class was less than a few feet away from the supervisors seat, she doesn't have a private office.
I just started sobbing and sobbing and the only person I wanted was my closest friend, who I'll call "S", who knew me more than anyone else. I was scared of my dad so badly even though I knew he couldn't do anything in school. Again, I somehow ended up in another area near the supervisor's table and I was hugging S so hard her arms turned red. My mind felt hazy and then I glanced behind her for a second and I fucking saw my dad just standing there. I knew there was no fucking way he was there, I go to an all girls school, 3 floors up, and he was in a different country, but I was so confused. I half believed and half didn't. I was so horrified and I kept telling them he was there but they told me no one was there (from my friends' narration).
This kept going on for a while until I just somehow ended up in the bathroom, laying down on the floor, and a few teachers and people from the administration were surrounding me. I genuinely don't remember how I ended up there. It got so bad my sister had to call my therapist, and I yelled at the phone that my dad was there and he was going to hurt me but even I knew that was ridiculous but I couldn't help it. We had to hang up on her through. After a long while I managed to stand up and I was beside my class, my class door has a window thing you can look through and then it hit me that all of my classmates are seeing this and it scared me again.
My friends told me later that someone opened the door and I ran in and grabbed one of my closest friends who also knew about my dad's abuse and yelled at her something like "tell them I'm not lying tell them tell them" but the thing is I don't remember who "them is" or what I meant by lying I really don't. They kicked everyone in the class out and I ended up just sobbing for a while again. I don't remember much and my friends had to leave so I don't have any information of what happened. I ended up going home and they gave my mom a warning.
So fast forward to yesterday, on Tuesday. I was having a completely normal day, and then an hour into school, I just felt "weird" and started banging my head hard and alot on my table. Luckily the tables aren't that hard, I don't know what the material they're made out of is called but they can't really do much, it's hard but weak. My friends sitting beside me had to grab me with all their strength because, again from their narration, I kept trying to fight against them to hurt myself. The administration came in and kicked everyone out and I just kept trying over and over again to harm myself. Apparently I even tried to take my clothes off but they stopped me. But everyone saw what my upper body looked like I think. And I ended up downstairs 3 floors down in the principals office, I don't remember how I ended up there. I was screaming crying and begging for S and my favourite teacher, they wouldn't bring S but they did call that teacher. She kept hugging me and comforting me. Then they tried to make me leave to my driver who was outisde the gate. When they got me out to the gate i for some reason just ended up on the floor sobbinf and I don't know why. Then I looked behind me and my dad was there. It wasnt a delusion or whatever he was there. Enough time had passed for him to have time to come. They also called 3 male teachers from the boys section to carry me. When my dad held I can swear I screamed like I was tortured alive. The more he held me the more I was distressed and scared. I don't know what happened but he left and they called my mom to pick me up instead. (I live with both my parents but my dad has a busy job and had to go back to work for emergencies whole my mom stays at home). I went back home and the rest is too much irrelevant details I don't wanna focus on. Theres only one week of school left with exams, in the exams time we stay only 2 hours in school and leave, there's no classes or anything like that. And now the school is refusing to let me go back to my classrooms, they said I'll have to take the exams in the administration room.
I genuinely have no idea what's going on with me, I've done so much research but I haven't even found anything that could be a basic assumption or theory or idea or whatever of what's going I'm so confused I hate this and I'm stressed and now everyone at school knows I'm being abused by my dad. Please if you have any idea what's goin on with me, even if it might sound ridiculous or whatever please please tell. And I know I have to go to a psychiatrist or psychologist but we're still in the middle of dealing with that so yeah. Also no one in my family has a history of mental illness especially with something like this.
Ps. As I've said most of what I've written is from what people told me they saw when they were there so I can't guarantee I'll be able to answer most questions.

Hopefully this isn’t downvoted instantly, because I know people seem to get strangely very defensive about Beast’s characterization in this run. I think there is a lot of miscommunication whenever a Beast fan complains about how he was depicted here. Often times people will discount those complaints because they think Beast fans just don’t want him to go bad, when that doesn’t really seem to be the whole truth from what I’ve seen. Ultimately, the complaints I raise and I have seen others raise are more about thinking the writing of his spiral in X-Force 2019 was not done well rather than that said spiral shouldn’t have happened at all. With the Krakoa era coming to an end, and “From the Ashes” having the now-rebooted Beast who is pulled all the way from his time on The Defenders, I don’t see any of the flaws here being addressed beyond characters casually referring to how bad he became. So I wanted to take this time in the in-between, where our new Beast is apparently just chilling on Wonder Man’s couch while the rest of the X-Men fight against Orchis and Nimrod, to once and for all lay out the flaws of Beast’s villainous era, and establish not that it shouldn’t have happened, but that it could have been way better.
Problem 1: A Lack of Pathos:
Most X-Men fans who have been reading for awhile will agree that it’s honestly surprising more mutants haven’t gone down a dark path. Their history is one of striving for acceptance, putting their lives on the line for people who would rather see them dead, and being rewarded with not one but multiple genocides on their population. Some of the most interesting stories can actually come from a formally “upstanding” mutant finally deciding enough is enough. When Cyclops went down his “villainous” path, it made a lot of sense. We’d seen him becoming more disenfranchised with the dream for years. We’d seen his trust in Xavier erode time and time again, and so when he decided to stop asking for acceptance and start demanding it, it was hard to blame him. Even as we saw most of his friends turn against him, that didn’t stop people from declaring “Cyclops Was Right,” because his perspective could easily be understood, and he did achieve results. More recently in X-Men ‘97, we saw Rogue go down a dark path in the wake of Genosha being wiped out, including Magneto and Gambit. Again, this was understood, and it was an interesting direction for her character.
This sort of turn would also make a ton of sense for Hank McCoy. Did you know that back towards the start of the original Uncanny X-Men run, Hank was actually the first X-Men we ever saw to leave the team and say that Magneto was right, after he and Bobby were attacked by an angry mob because Hank used his powers to save a young child? Over the years, one of Hank’s most recurring struggles and arcs is self-loathing and eventual acceptance of his condition. Hank has always been at his darkest when he’s trapped in his spiral of self-loathing, but when he comes out the other side, he tends to be one of the most optimistic mutants when it comes to coexistence with humans. He was out making connections and fighting alongside non-mutants before anyone else. Joining the Avengers and Defenders, speaking on behalf of mutant rights before congress, dating human women who were able to accept his appearance, blue fur and all. Until they weren’t… looking at you, Trish Tilby.
So with all of this in mind, it would honestly be an extremely interesting arc to see Hank, this optimistic mutant who has spent his life building bridges and making connections with humanity, to be slowly beaten down and start to believe peace is not an option. As one of the original X-Men, he has been there through every tragedy that struck the mutant population. And as one of the smartest X-Men, he has usually been at the center of these crises. He has seen advancements in science meant to eradicate the mutants. He has fought against viruses that threaten to drive them extinct. He was there in the wreckage of Genosha. He has seen countless friends killed again and again. He has suffered his own mutation evolving and making him less and less human-looking. He saw the development of a mutant “cure” and was tempted to take it. He has seen it all.
And so that brings us to Krakoa. This is the moment where the mutants as a whole decided enough was enough. If they could not be accepted by humanity, they would pack up and form their own nation, and they would force humanity to accept that they exist by developing life-saving drugs that other nations would have to rely on. And what is one of the first things that happens after the establishment of Krakoa? Hank witnesses assassins infiltrate the island and assassinate Charles Xavier. This right here is honestly the perfect setup for Hank to go darker than he has before. Even after literally segregating the mutant population from humanity, like humanity seemed to want, they still decided to come and kill the man at the forefront of the movement. And Hank, recently placed in charge of mutant black-ops, would likely see that all options are on the table.
Unfortunately, Hank’s actual pathos surrounding the decisions he would go on to make is not explored by the book itself. The book has no interest in detailing Hank’s fall from grace as we saw with Cyclops before him. The book just wants us to accept that Hank has already fallen. And in fact, according to the writing, maybe he never had anywhere to fall from. Any time a character in X-Force tries to ask important questions to understand Hank’s thought process, they are cut off. Usually by Wolverine saying “He’s always been like this.” And then on one occasion, when Wolverine asked Hank why he was doing all this dark shit, Hank said, “Didn’t you read the script? I’ve always been like this.” There is no attempt to examine Hank as a character. We don’t need to know why Hank makes the decisions he does, because this book wants Hank to be a black and white villain and so that’s what he will be. Why? Because he’s always been like this.
Problem 2: Rapid Escalation:
One of the major defenses people have when it comes to Krakoan Hank is that he has apparently been on the road to his villainous self for over a decade. The X-Force run itself loved to have characters spout a list of Hank’s previous “crimes” without any context involved, as justification for why he was acting the way he did in the current run. The problem is, that context is very important. Because it shows the disparity in the Hank of previous stories who made mistakes with good intentions vs the Hank of X-Force who did heinous shit because he wanted to. This was less a plane making a slow descent and more a plane that was slowly descending, but then its engines shut off and it plummeted into a fiery explosion.
To make this case, we need to briefly analyze the previous perceived transgressions of Hank McCoy to show what they actually meant for his character and how they differ from the Bond villain X-Force would present us with. Let’s start with Threnody. Somehow, Threnody became a bit of a buzzword for the beginning of the end for Hank. When people talk about the history of Hank and Threnody, they will usually present it as one of Hank’s worst sins, saying something like “Hank callously handed Threnody over to Mr. Sinister so he could experiment on and abuse her!!!” It kind of makes for some whiplash when you actually read the Threnody story people are talking about. Here is a brief rundown of what actually happens:
Threnody is a young woman who cannot control her powers. It causes her no end of grief, and when we are introduced to her, she is homeless and constantly in danger of hurting herself or others. Beast, Rogue, and Iceman come across Threnody who has been found first by Mr. Sinister. Sinister actually has a vested interest in curing the Legacy Virus, and believes he can help Threnody master her powers, at which point she will prove vital in his efforts to study said Virus. Notably, Threnody wants to go with Sinister here. While Rogue disapproves, Hank does believe that Sinister is actually Threnody’s best option, openly stating Sinister can actually help her gain control and the X-Men cannot, because, as Hank directly says, Sinister is willing to damn parts of his soul in pursuit of scientific enlightenment, and the X-Men are not. A few issues later, when breaking into Sinister’s base, Hank encounters Threnody again. She’s happy. Sinister did indeed help her control her powers, and she has been able to use her abilities to help mutants the world over, while also undermining Sinister’s more evil operations from the inside. Hank expresses relief, saying he was kept up at night by his decision to let her go with Sinister, but Threnody actually thanks him for letting her. And that’s it. That’s Hank’s big “crime” here.
Hank’s other “sins” are also of varying levels of severity. There’s the time “Hank worked with his evil self to cure the Legacy Virus!” when the actual story in question is Hank asserting that he won’t stoop to the levels of Dark Beast and compromise his values in the name of science. There’s the time “Hank sided with the Inhumans against the X-Men!” when the actual story is Storm sending Hank to Attilan to find a way to end the conflict between mutants and inhumans before war broke out. Hank runs out of time to find a cure for the terrigen mist cloud, suggests mutants get off-world in the meantime rather than go to war with the inhumans, is thrown into a cell by the other X-Men for his “betrayal”, and then freed at the conclusion of the war by a repentant Storm when it comes to light that the whole conflict was manipulated by Emma Frost. There’s the time “Hank risked the timestream by bringing the original X-Men to the present day!” A decision that was made on his perceived deathbed with the hopes of bringing his old friend Cyclops back to his side. Hank wants to take the young mutants back right away, but they refuse. And instead of others enforcing that they need to return, we actually see Kitty Pride decide to lead them in the present in memory of Charles Xavier. Notably, Kitty would be one of the many mutants in future issues who would yell at Hank about this.
The point of this post isn’t to absolve Hank of all fault. He has made countless mistakes and bad decisions. Regardless of the culpability of others, the pulling of the O5 to the present was his decision. During Secret Empire, Hank would turn a blind eye to Hydra’s activity simply to keep the mutants under his care safe. During all of this, however, Hank’s character was not compromised. He expressed despair and regret over his worse choices, and struggled with thinking he was a good person any longer. Again, going back to his recurring struggle with self-loathing. He had pathos behind his decisions and how they affected him, and would often reunite with Wonder Man as an opportunity to recenter and declare he would “be better tomorrow than he was yesterday.”
You would think, if the aim of X-Force was to turn Hank into a full-on villain, it would take advantage of the long-form storytelling of comics to chronicle that escalation. Like I said, the assassination of Charles Xavier is a great starting point for Hank to start going darker than he ever has before. The problem is, we don’t get an escalation. Hank starts the run by doing some of the most heinous shit imaginable. Regardless of your thoughts on the severity of Hank’s previous mistakes, none of them compare to his opening volley in this run. Hank uses telefloronics to override and genocide an entire country, leaving various people either completely dead or braindead. We later find out that during this time he also established a space station where he ran unethical experiments on prisoners like Krakoa’s very own Dr. Mengele. He then accuses his old ally Colossus of conspiring with Russia against Krakoa, and calls forth the mutant population to witness as he parades a shamed Colossus through its streets. Then he kills Wolverine and resurrects him as a mindless animal who he uses as an attack dog against his perceived enemies. This isn’t an escalation, this is a different character. And the aforementioned lack of pathos means that we don’t get to see him struggle with these choices. We don’t see his thought process as he becomes darker and darker. Why would we? “He’s always been like this.”
Problem 3: No Personality:
One of the most fun aspects of turning a protagonist into an antagonist is seeing how their personality works with a more villainous mindset. When Cyclops became an “antagonist” to the X-Men, he was still Cyclops. He stuck to his convictions, he was a great leader and tactician, and he was able to turn many mutants to his side because of this. We’ve seen an evil Beast before. The creatively-named Dark Beast is from an alternate future where Beast went down a dark path lacking ethics. The fun of this character, besides comparing his ideologies with our Hank McCoy, is seeing how Hank’s penchant for jokes or quotes now become far more sinister and cutting.
There’s a strange narrative that the jokey Hank is reserved for the Avengers while the Hank with the X-Men is all business and science. This isn’t entirely true. Early on when he was a member of the Defenders, Hank talks about this sort of thing. He essentially says that he wears different hats. While working with the X-Men, he used big words essentially to gain respect from both his teammates and humanity. But with other teams, and in his then-new furry form, he dropped all of that. His speech became more naturalistic and he was much more of a goofball. The thing is, it’s the speech patterns that truly change depending on who Hank is hanging with, not his personality. Hank with the X-Men and Hank with the Avengers are both jovial characters who like to tell jokes and quote philosophy. You can see Hank being a bit of a clown among the X-Men in various runs. So it’s not like it’s a given that Hank is some entirely different dry doctor devoid of any sense of humor when among the X-Men.
But this is how Hank is portrayed in X-Force. Part of why this version of Hank is so hard to reconcile with the rest of his history for fans of the character is that he just doesn’t act like himself, even when he isn’t actively committing war crimes. In one early issue of the run, we get a glimpse at Beast’s journal where he accounts a meeting he had with Forge. Now, Beast has been known to be a very physical character. He is often known to sweep others into a hug, or even plant a big kiss on their face in the case of characters like Wonder Man or Iceman. Meanwhile this one page where we read his thoughts on Forge is clearly pretending this is not the case:

I paid Forge a visit in the Armory – and I must say that he can be, like Logan, rather impossible. There is a certain locker room bravado about him I find perplexing, like a language I only half understand. For instance, he refused to shake my hand but instead dragged me into what he called a “bro hug.” Then he challenged me to a “feat of strength,” asking if I would test out this sappy “muck bomb” he had developed that – or so I gather – glues one in place. He wondered if a “big boy” like me might be able to thrash free of the binding. I refused him and said I very much would prefer to get down to business. He then referred to me as a “bookish peckerwood @#$%” but did so with a friendly laugh and clapped me on the shoulder hard enough to make me stagger. I’m not sure how to process this, honestly. Is he being friendly or cruel? Is it possible to be both?

Needless to say, this doesn’t read like Beast. It reads like an android that has never before felt human emotion. I remember before reading this I was theorizing that Hank had been switched with Dark Beast once more to explain his sudden escalation, but after this I realized that couldn’t be the case. Because this sounds like neither Beast nor Dark Beast. Dark Beast understood how to properly write Hank as a villain. He doesn’t suddenly become your typical made scientist devoid of emotion, humor, or basic human understanding. He still makes jokes that are now cruel. He still quotes literature in a way that paints him as a god among men. Hank going bad can be a fun read, but this run was not.
Problem 4: No One Cares:
Another important angle to consider when writing a story of a good person breaking bad is how it affects those around them. Those who are close friends to the person and find themselves disturbed by their current actions. Again, I return to Cyclops. Regardless of where you stand on if he was right or not, he was very much positioned as an antagonist to the mutants at the Jean Grey School for Higher Learning. Yet we see various friends of Cyclops still caring for him and wanting to pull him back from what they perceive as the dark side. Like I previously said, Beast’s whole reason for messing with the timeline was because he felt he was going to die and wanted to try to appeal to his old friend and bring him back around before he passed on. When someone good goes bad, part of the emotional core is seeing former friends try to appeal to their better nature, and even eventually deciding they’ve gone too far to turn back.
Not so with Hank in X-Force. Like I said, this run posits that this is not any kind of heel turn for Hank. This is how he’s always been. “Hank this isn’t you!” “No, he’s always been like this.” “Hank, turn back before it’s too late!” “Turn back where? He’s always been like this.” None of Hank’s friends give a shit. Hank’s best friend amongst the X-Men is Bobby Drake, Iceman, and we never once see any kind of confrontation there. Cyclops and Angel similarly doesn’t care. Now you could argue this is because X-Force is a secretive organization. Bobby and Scott don’t even know what Hank is doing. There are two issues with this. First, things reach a point where they would know. Hank’s actions become public knowledge, and Wolverine goes off to hunt him down while the rest of the X-Men just kinda look the other way. And second, there is someone with a lot of history with Hank that was a part of X-Force and did see everything that was going on. Jean Grey.
But we never get to see Jean wonder what’s happened to her close friend. Jean who was always incredibly close to Hank. Jean who, it was confirmed during the All-New X-Men era, had mutual feelings for Hank and might have started dating him had things been different. But no, Jean, like every character in this run, accepts that Hank has always been like this. That’s the answer to everything. So instead of some kind of emotional confrontation where she tries to appeal to his better nature, we instead have Jean yell at Hank, use her powers to throw him against a wall, and quit X-Force. And then most recently, we see her tell Firestar without hesitation to throw Hank under the bus for any heat that comes her way from her undercover mission. Because everyone will believe Hank is responsible for all the bad shit. Who the hell cares about Hank? According to this run, no one.
Conclusion:
I hope you can see the larger issue here. When Beast fans complain about his Krakoan era, people assume they just don’t want to see their favorite do bad things. But it’s practically accepted at this point in comics that most heroes will have a villain arc. Hell, Iceman is the only one of the original five X-Men who hasn’t gone down a dark path at this point. The problem is that everything about the writing of Hank during this time was just not done well. There is no exploration of Hank’s descent into villainy, and any questioning down that line is immediately shut down by the assertion that this is just who he’s always been. There isn’t any slow escalation because his first move is genocide. Hank is not even written as himself during this era, but rather as a generic bond villain. And none of Hank’s former close friends even show any emotion about his turn to villainy. An evil Hank story could easily work. We saw it with Dark Beast. A story where the former optimistic member of the X-Men has been beaten down so many times that he takes on a “whatever it takes” mentality could be interesting and emotionally resonant as we both understand what drove him here yet hate the man he’s become. But that isn’t what we got. We got a run that wrote him as a complete stranger and then had all the characters tell the reader that they were wrong for ever thinking he was anyone else.

Hi,
29M if it matters and also have Aspergers. I was due to start titration through Psychiatry UK after getting my diagnosis of ADD through them. I did 4/5 of the forms they required of me, got kicked out because I missed one. Their portal is a bit of a mess and in my excitement over finally getting treatment I missed one form, which is a first time dismissal with no warning that you have outstanding documents incomplete. Completely crazy considering it’s an ADHD service and it must happen all the time.
Made a formal complaint but been told I’m going to the back of the queue and it’ll be ~7 months. Unfortunately, my condition is ruining my life right now. I have no energy or interest in doing anything, days and weeks are wasting away with no tangible gain, and my inability to do anything is killing me. I have big goals and am capable of so much more than wasting away at home, but currently I feel like I have zero control of my life whatsoever. It’s genuinely at a 9-10/10 severity recently and is impacting my mental health a lot.
I need treatment as soon as possible. What are my best options for this? Are there private pharmacies that’ll dispense to me, options through the NHS, governing bodies that can sort out my mess at Psychiatry U.K.? I have my titration schedule and they were going to put me on methylphenidate if it makes a difference.
Thanks a lot 🙏🏻

Credit to u/SpacePaladin15 for the NOP Universe.
Hey, I hope everyone's doing well!
Today we return to the namesake of this fic, an actual lesson about animals. This one focuses on Koalas! One of Australia's most recognisable critters. I hope you enjoy.
It's hardly worth mentioning, seeing as I'm an infrequent poster at the best of times, but I'll not have another chapter out for a few weeks due to limited free time and devoting most of my writing time to an upcoming ficnapping. Be sure to look out for that!
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Memory transcription subject: Rysel, Venlil Environmental Researcher
Date [Standardised human time]: 8th September 2136
“Koalas!”
Bernard’s energised voice boomed through the air as the classroom's monitor flickered into life, images of this paws lecture topic popping up one after the other until the entire screen was filled with a collage of furry quadrupeds.
Squee! I’ll never get tired of this, it’s all so cool!
As usual the sight of something new stirred immediate discussion, hushed murmurs swelling into vibrant discourse in little more than a heartbeat. Most of the class swiftly huddled together into small herds to bounce ideas around while the rest opted to stick to the solace of their own thoughts as they took in the display.
I’d be quite happy in either situation, though seeing as Sandi had already sunk into deep concentration and Kailo had peeled off to talk with Ennerif and Solenk, it seemed the decision had been made for me on this occasion. Wasting no more time on idle inspection of the people around me, I focused my full attention forward, eager to form first impressions before the lesson began in earnest.
Now then, time to make some educated guesses. What traits does this animal have? I wonder if I’ll get any right this paw?
Professional assumptions went paw-in-paw with the lectures, examining and coming up with hypotheses about the specimens was only natural. Recently however, I’d started to make a little game of it to make things even more interesting than usual. A veritable bonfire of ideas had been set ablaze within me, fueled by my newfound knowledge of Earthen wildlife. Every flash and spark of the flame was a fresh theory I could try to apply to the lectures. It was an invigorating exercise that further stoked my unceasing wonderment.
So far I’d only done this once during the previous class and, to my disappointment, I’d not done too well.
I was right when I guessed that chickens were omnivores, but wrong in my assumption that they could fly. And that red thing on their head, the um… what was it called? The comb! Yes, the comb. I thought that was to attract mates, but it regulates body heat instead. It’s fascinating. Oh! Stars damn it I’m rambling!
I bapped my tail against my leg, the soft thud being just enough to snap me back from my runaway thoughts before I went completely wall-eyed. I was becoming more and more accustomed to getting lost in my own head while remaining conscious of the fact; it was happening so frequently now that it was pretty much impossible not to. Now I was able to pull myself back to the world around me without having to rely on someone else shaking me out of it. Most of the time anyway.
Sandi still keeps an eye on me, and Kailo even decided to help out once without being too snide about it. Anyway where was I? Oh yeah, Koalas.
Glancing at the furred animals, two things immediately stood out. Firstly, their eyes were in a more central position on their face. And second, all the images showed them being on or close to trees. There were other noteworthy observations of course, such as the Koala’s prominent nose and rounded features, but they fell to the wayside as I honed in on these points first.
Hmmm… ok. I already know to discount the idea that they’re predators just from eye position, so let’s get that thought out of here. Maybe omnivorous? Herbivore? Agh no, I can’t just guess that for the sake of guessing, that’s the same problem! Hrm, it’s tough making these assumptions now that everything I thought I knew has been turned on its head.
Nevermind, I’ll focus on the other thing. All the trees make me think they’re arboreal, that seems to be a reasonable assumption. I wonder what else they-
Clearing his throat, Bernard broke my concentration, his call for attention silencing the murmuring conversation and redirecting everyone's focus to the lecturer's podium.
His gaze panned across the room as he waited for everyone to settle, a beaming smile lighting up his face, “As ever I’m delighted to see you all get so into the subject matter from the get go. I’m looking forward to hearing what you were discussing should you wish to share. For now though, how about we get started, hm?”
A chorus of merry bleats rang out from across the audience, ears and tails flicking happily in agreement. Bernard's grin grew in tandem with the class's fervour, clasping his hands together enthusiastically as he launched into the lesson, “Excellent! Then let’s get started.”
The pictures on screen dissolved away until only one remained, enlarging to cover the entire monitor with the fluffy grey face of a Koala peacefully reclining in the crook of a tree.
“Ah, there we are,” Bernard’s baritone timbre drifted through the room as he looked up at the image, his own tone reflecting the relaxed attitude of the animal on screen, “He looks so comfortable doesn’t he? Perfectly at peace with the world, not too surprising considering they sleep almost 20 hours a day. A full paw!”
A wave of beeps and gasps rippled through the herd, punctuated by a single yawn-dressed comment from Rova, “A full paw? Hwuuu… jealous.”
Her drowsy remark elicited several whistling giggles from the herd, Bernard's own jovial chortle joining them as he turned to face her, “Late evening Rova?”
I twisted a little in my seat, panning an eye in Rova’s direction just in time to see her bleary eyes bulge open and her ears shoot up, now intensely aware of the fact she hadn’t been as quiet as she thought she had.
Sitting up abruptly, she hastily tapped down errant tufts of wool that’d flared in surprise as she composed herself, though her nervousness at becoming the centre of the class's attention was still plain for all to hear, “Uh- I um… achem, a little bit yes, um- …sorry. Lokki dragged me out to a movie viewing in the rec centre. It went on pretty late.”
A melodramatic bray from the other side of the room drew everyone's ears away from Rova to the now aghast Lokki, paw splayed across his chest in faux indignation, “Dragged you? Well excuse me for trying to broaden your horizons with human movies. That’ll be the list time I- …Ahaaaa…”
Lokki’s theatrics were cut short by a heavy yawn of his own, a swell of whistling laughter rolling through the herd as vibrant bloom lit up his snout, a sight that elicited a particularly amused bleat from Rova.
Turning away from the duo I looked back at Bernard, pleased to see that he was chuckling along with us. Behaviour like Lokki’s would never have been tolerated in my school and university days but, in stark contrast, Bernard revelled in it, the liveliness of his students fueling his own bombastic style of teaching. It was a pleasant change of pace having a teacher who let us all be ourselves in class; provided we weren’t too disruptive to the lesson plan.
Speaking of which.
His laughter still rumbling through the air, Bernard clapped his hands to pull everyone's focus back to him, “Ok, ok, let’s get back to it then shall we? Rova. Lokki. Hopefully the two of you can stay awake long enough until you can grab yourselves a coffee.”
As the class settled down and the last few giggling beeps petered out, Benard pointed a hand to the screen, “So, the Koala. Let’s start simple shall we? They are herbivorous marsupials native to the eastern and southern coasts of Australia. Easily recognised the world over, they are a well known and beloved symbol of their homeland, along with other animals such as the Kangaroo and the Emu. The former of which you might remember from one of our earlier lectures.”
Indeed I did remember, along with how angry Bernard had gotten after some speh-head had derided the Yotul after he explained how he held specific disdain for such attitudes.
Uuuggghh… I never want to see him angry again. So chilling.
I shook my ears in an effort to dismiss the unpleasant memory, panning my eyes back to the monitor to try and distract myself by inspecting the Koala’s physical appearance once more. Thankfully, by some Star's blessed intervention, Bernard had the exact same idea.
“Koala’s are rather squat in stature, ranging around sixty to eighty-five centimetres in length and weighing little more than fifteen to sixteen kilograms at their full size. As you can see, the fur of this fellow before you is a lovely silvery grey, but their fur can also sport a chocolaty brown hue as well. Arguably the most distinctive part of their appearance is their head, being rather large for their body size and having rounded ears, a large nose, and a pair of small eyes. These are often brown but variations do occur.”
It didn’t slip past my notice that Bernard didn’t bother to point out that the Koala’s eyes were forward facing. I didn’t think he’d simply forgotten, so perhaps he just felt it wasn’t necessary given that he’d already stated it was herbivorous. Either way, no one stuck up a paw or tail to question him.
“Now this will hardly be surprising considering how long they sleep, but Koala’s are largely sedentary and it’s rather easy to see why when you have a look into the contents of their diet.”
With the press of a button the Koala on screen was replaced by images of vibrant green vegetation. Soaring trees and flowering shrubbery weaved together across landscape framed pictures pulled admiring trills from the herd, the diversity of the plant life being shown standing as a reminder that it wasn’t only animal life that flourished on Earth.
After giving everyone the chance to take in the picturesque scenes, Bernard casually hammered that point home, “This is eucalyptus or, more accurately, a choice selection of more than 700 plants belonging to the eucalyptus genus, though the Koala itself favours 30 of them in particular.”
700!? Stars…
Realising that my ears had drooped in my momentary awe, I twisted them back to tune into the lesson, only for them to splay out in shock at the next words to come out of Bernard's mouth.
“The leaves of these plants are the primary food source of the Koala and there are a couple things worth mentioning when talking about these plants. For starters they do not have much nutritional or caloric value, leading to the Koala’s low-energy lifestyle. Additionally, they contain toxic compounds.”
A shiver instantly ran through the herd, ears flicking rapidly in confusion and alarm followed by a few quizzical whispers. It didn’t take long for someone to decide to give a proper voice to the murmuring.
“Excuse me Doctor. Did we hear that right? Their diet is made up of toxic flora?” Vlek’s grumbling incredulity cut through the herd's mutterings with ease. Until Kailo’s recent change of heart, the fifty something rotation old blonde Venlil had been a close second in terms of scepticism. Mercifully his rebuttals had always been relevant questions as opposed to ranting diatribes, so he at least remained on topic if nothing else.
Bernard nodded in confirmation, smiling back at Vlek while absentmindedly twirling the end of his moustache, “You heard me right, they do indeed consume plants that are toxic. Just not to them.”
Any worry or uncertainty still clinging to the herd was swept away by the provision of the glaringly obvious answer, leaving me chuckling inwardly at the oversight.
Ah of course! The plant might be poisonous but they’ll have evolved to deal with that. Stars… I’m so used to expecting the unexpected with Earth that I didn’t even consider the simplest solution.
“I see, thank you Doctor,” Vlek replied, a tinge of interest still audible in his tone, “I assume they’ve developed some adaptation to become immune to the harmful effects?”
The question immediately evoked a smirk from our teacher, but he hurriedly suppressed it while bobbing his head, “They have indeed. There are several factors that aid in their digestion of eucalyptus leaves without succumbing to the plant's baleful properties. The first is a part of the intestinal tract called the cecum. It contains a microbiome that allows the Koala to digest the eucalyptus. Coupled with this is an enzyme in the Koala’s liver that helps them break down the toxins. They are also capable of sniffing out the plants with the least amount of toxins, ensuring that they ingest as little as possible.”
Pausing for a breath Bernard looked back at the screen before turning to face us, another grin curling at the edges of his mouth as he continued with his explanation, “This is mostly for adult Koala’s, because while their young also possess these same adaptations, they don’t just go straight to munching through foliage right after being born. No, they need a little help making that jump and getting a stomach full of all that good gut bacteria. It’s nothing bad, but those of a sensitive stomach may wish to prepare themselves for this next part.”
Bernard’s assurances did little to assuage the concern that his warning had foisted upon us. Having been exposed to so much of the weirdness Earth had to offer everyone always ended up on edge whenever Bernard gave advice like this, even if he did say it in jest.
What strange nonsense thing do Koala pups do then? Judging by the way he’s acting it probably isn’t something as simple as drinking milk from the mother. Hmmm…
“So,” Bernard began, snapping us from our pensive stupor, “Young Koala’s, known as joeys, have a gestation period of thirty-five days on average, which is approximately forty-two paws. Once born they travel from the birth canal to a pouch in their mother so that they can continue to develop and grow. In the pouch the joey finds and latches onto one of two teats and these provide the newborn with a steady stream of nourishing milk. It spends the next six to seven months growing in the pouch, its eyes, ears, and fur all developing as time goes on.”
Okay, interesting. But this is exactly how I thought it’d go. What’s different?
The unexpected normalcy of the Koala’s birth and growth cycle had calmed everyone's nerves, only to be replaced with an air of suspicion as we waited with rapt attention for Bernard to drop the other claw and upend our expectations like he always did.
Not wanting to keep us in further suspense he forged ahead, the tempo of his voice picking up as the smile started to crease his face once more, “Now to make the switch from milk to eucalyptus, the mother also feeds the joey a substance called pap. It comes from the cecum I mentioned earlier, and contains all the gut bacteria required to help the young Koala in making the switch to eucalyptus.”
He stopped and looked around, searching us for a reaction to what I felt was a rather bland statement of fact. What was it he was saying without actually saying? Koala pups drink milk to mature and then include this pap substance so that they can start eating plants. I don’t see what-
The cecum is part of the intestine.
I blinked.
I blinked again, the intrusive interruption scouring my brain clean of any other thought bar the one it’d just implanted itself in the forefront of my mind.
Oh stars. They-
“They eat their own poop!?”
The shocked bleat shattered the peace of the room to reveal that most if not all of us had come to the same tail curling conclusion. As the hall filled with unrestrained vocalisations of disgust, an ‘Ugh’ over here and a ‘Blegh’ over there, Bernard’s own bellowing laughter joined the throng of voices.
“Ha! Everytime! Each and every time. Clearly it doesn’t matter if my students are Human or Venlil. Whenever someone learns about the Koala’s dietary development the reaction is the same!”
Pleased with himself beyond reason, Bernard chuckled away while the rest of us grappled with this ghastly reality. While there were plenty of animals that feasted on things that ranged from simply unappealing all the way to the stomach churningly grotesque, I’d never heard of an animal that actively consumed the excrement of its own species. Benefits aside, the prospect of having to do that to survive to adulthood sent a shiver of revulsion down my spine.
Ewww… Stars, I hope I forget this feeling by 2nd meal. They’re serving sturen and magamroot stew later. I was really looking forward to it.
With the herds mood beginning to temper Bernard tapped the podiums controls, removing the verdant collage of eucalyptus to display several similar yet distinct environments, still chortling merrily to himself in the process, “Ok then, with that little foray into their diet complete, why don’t we look at their habitat in more detail? As you might imagine given their diet and arboreal nature, Koala’s live in forested regions, and can be found in tropical and temperate zones. About a century ago they were classed as a vulnerable species, however efforts were made to turn this around and increase their numbers. Sadly the largest factor in their decline was human activity, as the fertile lands that gave rise to their bountiful forests were coveted farm land for our settlements.”
It was strange to hear Bernard so matter of factly admit to humanity's negative impacts on other species. He’d alluded to such things in the past but always with an air of caution, carefully pawing the line between honestly answering a question while not painting humanity as uncaring and destructive. AKA, the ‘predators’ we’d all initially expected them to be.
Perhaps his comfort in making such admissions was a reflection of the class's comfort with him, for no one so much as batted an ear. Even Kailo, who I would’ve expected to jump at the chance to use this as a prime example of predatory danger, only flicked an ear in stern yet silent concern.
A cough from Bernard drew my attention back, a new picture on screen that showed a forest from a bird's-eye view. Drawn across the image were around a dozen ringed areas, some bordering one another while others overlapped to some degree. It took me a moment, but I soon recognised that what I was looking at was a map, the rings representing what I assumed to be territories. And it didn’t take much effort to guess who each one belonged to.
“From habitats we move onto behaviours, so let’s start with territories. Koala’s are solitary animals. Yes, despite being herbivores. Considering they’re only awake for roughly four hours of the day I can hardly blame them. Lots to do and not a lot of time to do it. Jokes aside, once they mature they are quite independent, carving out a little slice of land for themselves, as displayed in this example, called a Home Range. That is not to say they go it alone and leave everything else behind however. Rather, as shown in the map behind me, they live in their own space while still being part of a larger social group.”
With another press of his pad the picture was updated to show one of two symbols in each segment, along with a key to the side of the map displayed in helpful Venlang. A quick glance told me that the symbols were representing whether the territory belonged to a male or female of the species.
“As you can see there is quite a bit of overlap between different Koala’s territories. It is in these areas that most of the socialising takes place between neighbours. The trees in these locations represent the few areas where intrusion across territories is acceptable for the sake of social interaction. Outside of that the Koala’s stick to their own territories for the most part, with the exceptions of Koala’s who are passing through, attempting to become part of the social group themselves, or dominant males who sometimes go off into another Koala’s range. But how do they know where one range begins and another range ends you might ask? Well, this brings us onto the next part of the lecture. How do Koala’s communicate?”
Wiping away the map from the monitor, Bernard loaded up a video of a Koala sitting in a tree and pressed play. Head held high, the Koala’s body shook as it belted out a reverberating call into the wilderness that could only be described as a garbled combination of a car engine failing to turn over mixed with the hiccups of someone with a particularly sore throat.
That’s how they sound? Oof that must be rough on the lungs.
I clearly wasn’t the only one to share such a thought, because I clocked Sandi tracing a paw along her neck as the noise went on, ears fluttering in discomfort at the noise.
Bernard himself cleared his own throat as the video came to an end, minimising it and replacing it with another image of a tree with a Koala rubbing up against the bark, “I think they’ve got me beat on who’s got the deeper voice!”
His joke garnered several amused beeps, a rare reaction that caused a beaming smile to shine across his face at lighting speed, “Oh you’re too kind. I’ll be here all week. Now where were we? Oh yes! Communication. As you’ve just heard, Koala’s are capable of loud low pitched bellows that can carry over vast distances. These express everything from ‘Hello I’m over here’ to ‘This is my turf, stay away’. Bellowing is more common in the males than the females, opting for shouting matches as opposed to outright fights when it comes to asserting dominance. Other vocal expressions include grunts, wails, and snarls if they’re acting particularly angsty. Mother and joey pairs also communicate through gentle clicking, squeaking, and murmuring sounds. And there’s one more thing worth mentioning. Something they have in common with Humans and Venlil when it comes to emoting.”
Really? They do something we do?
Curious, I pressed myself against the desk, straining as close as I could to once more scrutinise the Koala’s features. Not a lot stood out to me at first, the grey marsupial not sharing many similarities with a Venlil that I could identify.
Ok think. We show emotion with our ears, tails, and our wool on occasion. They don’t have tails so it’s obviously not that. Wool standing on end is more a reaction than a conscious expression. So it must be the ears then.
To my quiet satisfaction, my hunch was soon validated by Bernard, “As well as their vocalisations, Koala’s are very emotive through their facial features. Just like humans, they use their mouths and lips to show how they feel, but these tend more towards the aggressive side of the scale than what you might see on a human. Regarding yourselves however, Koala’s utilise their ears in tandem with their mouth movements when showing strong emotion.”
I was delighted to hear that my assumption was correct, a little happy flick twisting out through my tail and bapping against my chair with a muted thump against the plastic.
Hehe yes! Got one right!
“Now then, we are getting close to lunchtime so I’ll finish this segment off with something I think you’ll find particularly interesting. Diplomacy.”
Perplexed mutterings followed in the wake of the bizarre inclusion to the lecture, my own thoughts being dominated by bewilderment as I tried and failed to make sense of how the two could possibly be related.
Why would Koala’s, or any animal for that matter, be linked to diplomacy? Hmmm...
I could understand dispatching exterminators to deal with a predator issue as a show of goodwill, that at least includes animals, but Humans aren’t like that so I think I can safely scratch that off the list.
Maybe the humans who live in that region benefited from Koala’s in some way. Could they have gotten something from them? But what?
Hopefully not what the pups get from their mothers.
Agh no! Begone awful intrusive thoughts. Blegh! I don’t need that in my head.
As I wrestled with the short-lived revulsion inflicted upon me by my Star's damned subconscious, Bernard placed a new image on screen, one that was decidedly different from all that had preceded it.
On screen were more than a couple dozen pictures of humans. Some were pictured alone while others congregated in large groups while cameras surrounded them from all angles. Across all the images, I noted two common themes. First of all, a solid majority of the humans were wearing formal wear similar to what I’d seen worn by UN representatives on TV. If the gaggle of journalists in the background of the photos didn’t already confirm my suspicions, then it was this similarity which made me conclude they were all people of some importance. Likely politicians judging from context clues.
Secondly, each of the individuals was interacting with a Koala in some form. Some cradled one against their chests while others were feeding it eucalyptus leaves or pellets of some kind. One of the assumed politicians had become an impromptu bed for a snoozing bundle of fur, a gleeful smile spread across their face as they lovingly gazed down at the sleeping Koala in their lap.
As I continued to stare at the assorted photos something clicked into place, a sudden spark flickering into life. A burgeoning light of comprehension that flared and swelled with every wide-eyed breath I took. Some things still escaped me, things I hoped would soon be explained, but in staring at all of the humans happy smiling faces, I was struck with an instant of pure understanding.
If someone, say a Nevok for instance, offered to gift me a creature that was common to them but which might exotic and breathtaking to a Venlil, how could my feelings not be swayed? How could I walk away from that encounter and not have grown closer to them as a result?
“Koala diplomacy,” Bernard waved his hand up at the monitor, a slight reverence in his tone, “My favourite kind of soft power diplomacy. Where political leaders take photo ops with Koala’s and, on occasion, the Australian government loans Koala’s to other nations for a time to bolster positive relations. It certainly helps that Koala’s are a beloved animal worldwide, drawing large crowds and revenue for countries fortunate enough to host the adorable critters.”
The truly alien concept predictably sparked instant discussion in the herd, two polar opposite schools of thought swiftly cementing themselves as the most popular opinions. Simultaneously, I heard one voice trill excitedly while another scoffed at what they clearly saw as a ridiculous and offensive notion.
“Squee! That’d be so cool! I’d love to get the chance to see a Liri from Coila. Remember the Rainbow Boa? Think of that shimmering effect and colour but put it on a bird! Ah! I’ve only heard their song on video. It’d be a treat to hear it in person!”
Ooo! I’ve read about them! I’d love to get up close to one.
“Loaning. As if animals are property to be hoarded and traded? Pugh! Another predatory trait the humans don’t want to acknowledge for what it is.”
Ugh, typical. Jump right to the worst possible option.
However, despite my dismissal of their disparaging fumings, an uncomfortable thought pressed upon my mind. While it was plain to see how much humans cared for the Koala, it didn’t change the fact that humans did keep animals as property just as the scornful herd member had said.
This begged a rather important, disquieting question. Aside from keeping some animals as cattle, a stomach tightening minefield I had no desire to step a claw onto right now, how else did humans keep other creatures. And how did they treat them?
Before I was fully conscious of doing it my paw was in the air, the question primed on my tongue.
Noticing my elevated paw Bernard pointed at me, smiling warmly, “Yes Rysel? What’s on your mind?”
Sorry Bernard. I hope this one’s not too awkward for you to answer.
Flicking my ear in appreciation, and waiting for everyone to settle enough so that I could be heard, I voiced my concerns as neutrally as possible, “Thank you Doctor. I uh, just had a thought. We know that humans keep certain animals for… particular reasons, and we know why. From how you’ve spoken about Koala’s I think it's fair to say that the same cannot be said for them. However, this makes me wonder, what other reasons do humans have for keeping animals and how do you treat them?”
A flash of surprise blinked across Bernard's eyes but vanished so quickly that it felt like I’d imagined it. Had he not expected such a question? Maybe he was just shocked that it’d been me who’d ended up asking it?
Stars, am I so predictable that no one expects me to ask difficult questions?
Unfortunately, a quick glance at my deskmates seemed to prove that to be the case, as both Sandi and Kailo were looking at me with differing degrees of astonishment flapping in their ears.
Well speh.
“A very good point Rysel, certainly one that’s worth raising. Yet another example of you all anticipating what I have to say before I can bring it up myself.” Bernard tapped the podium, switching off the monitor before returning his focus to me, “We won’t be needing that. I’ve nothing prepared that I can show you and we’re heading to lunch in a few minutes anyway. Still, that’s plenty of time to give you a bit of an answer.”
A bit? What does he mean just a bit?
Made even more curious by Bernard's preempted admission that he wasn’t going to fully answer my query, I dialled both my ears on him, fixing him with an inquisitive stare as he started to explain with a tone that was noticeably more nonchalant than any of his previous explanations.
“So, animals in captivity for reasons other than what you already know. Honestly I would love to delve into other reasons regarding why we keep animals. However, I have a lesson plan in the works that I hope to share with you all in the not too distant future. Some of it touches upon this very topic and I’d quite like to bundle it all together. That said, I can tell you how animals in captivity are treated. In short, the answer is very well. There are a mountain of laws both on private and public interests that govern the standards and ethical treatment of animals, and breaches of these laws are quite severe even for relatively minor infractions.”
While I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t disappointed by the vague answer to what was really the bulk of my question, I was at least satisfied by Bernard’s assurances that animals in captivity, such as the Koala, were well looked after. Considering the barely subdued grumbling coming from some corners of the audience it was clear that several of the herd didn’t believe Bernard outright, but I trusted him to be honest. Additionally, the mention of an upcoming lecture focused on humans keeping animals caused quite the buzz.
I felt a mix of excitement and trepidation at exploring the topic further. He’d pretty much confirmed we wouldn’t be talking about cattle farms, for which I was relieved, but that still left a huge amount of uncertainty in what was to come.
Humans keeping animals as cattle was a forgone conclusion. As horrifying as that reality was, it was one I could understand from a detached and strictly clinical point of view. Being predators they ate meat and therefore they kept cattle. But the concept of keeping animals for any other reason baffled me.
What could be the purpose? The diplomacy thing makes sense now that I have context, but what other reasons could they have.
The class's discussions were interrupted by the recognisable ring of the break bell, the shift in attention eliciting a change in conversation from confused hypotheses to peppy conversation on how everyone was planning to spend their break and what they had in mind for 2nd meal.
“Well I can see everyone’s excited for lunch, and who am I to disappoint,” chuckling Bernard waved us all up from our seats, pocketing his pad from the podium and heading to open the classroom door for us, “Enjoy your break, get a good rest along with a hearty meal, and I’ll see you all back here at the usual time.”
As everyone else filed out I stayed behind, waving at Sandi and Kailo as they left, and pawing over to Bernard once he and I were the only ones left in the room.
Ears folded down and with an apologetic tinge in my voice I greeted him as I sidled up to him, “Hey Bernard, I uh… sorry if that last question was unexpected.”
Chortling in reply, Bernard waved a hand through the air in a sign I’d come to understand meant ‘not a problem’.
“No need to apologise Rysel. It was a good question and most certainly not a problem.”
Heh, called it.
I sighed, allowing tension I didn’t realise I’d been holding to relax itself from my shoulders, “Phew, that’s a relief. I’m glad. I’m curious to hear what this new lesson is you’ve got in store for us by the way.”
Bernard wagged a finger at me, throwing up his eyebrows in mock amazement, “Oh are you now? Well I’m afraid you’ll have to remain curious for the time being. It’s going to be quite the surprise if all goes to plan. But…”
He trailed off, glancing at me before looking to the door like he was making sure no one else was around.
Wait, is he going to tell me? Oh please yes let me know now!
Stopping myself from jumping on the spot in excited anticipation, and trying my damndest to stop my tail from wagging in equal measure, I stared up at Bernard as he stewed in his thoughts before turning back to face me.
“I can’t tell you the specifics, but I’m working with Alejandro and Tolim to get something together. A trip that’s not a trip as it were. And when it happens, I’m going to need a few of the more accepting members of the class to lend me a hand. I’m hoping you and a couple others will be able to help with that?”
A trip that’s not a trip? What does that mean? Agh who cares about that right now! Bernard’s relying on me to help out!
Still trying not to keep myself from bouncing around with pup like glee I swished my tail and nodded my head in joint agreement, happy to help with whatever Bernard had in store for us, “Of course! Anything you need I’ll be there to lend a paw. You can count on me!”
A broad warm smile lit up Bernard's face, a hand patting me on the shoulder in appreciation, “Thank you Rysel. I knew I could rely on you but it still warms my heart to hear it. And, as thanks for this and for the many times you’ve shown your support, the surprise includes a little something special I think you’d appreciate the most.”
If my earlier enthusiasm had been at a nine, then the implication of a supposed gift sent it rocketing all the way to a hundred in a heartbeat.
“Wait… WHAT!? What do you mean? What are you doing?”
As impossible as it seemed, Bernard's grin grew even wider as I almost lost myself in wool shaking exhilaration, “Call it my own form of Koala diplomacy. But I’m afraid that’s all I can say for now. Wouldn’t want to ruin the surprise even for you!”
“Oh you ass!” Whistling jovially I bapped my tail against Bernard’s leg in fake indignation, evoking a barking bellowing laugh from the man himself.
Still laughing, the two of us departed the class and made for the canteen, my rumbling stomach leading me on while my mind spun with fantastical thoughts as to what Bernard had prepared for us.
And what specifically he had in store for me.

My dad (63, M) has worked for this company for 25+ years. We live in Texas. About 2 weeks ago, my dad had an altercation with a coworker (20s, F). We'll call her Jane. For context, my dad was the assistant store manager, and Jane was one of his subordinates.
The altercation started when my dad and Jane were meant to be unloading and putting away freight from a truck. A bit more context, my dad had back and neck surgery a couple years before, and is not supposed to be lifting anything over 50+ lbs, but he does it anyway because he's a stubborn man who has always put his job before his health. Anyway, Jane, instead of helping my dad, was sitting in the back, where the truck was, messing around on her phone. Jane had been written up numerous times before for being on her phone, and was warned by my dad and their store manager, Pete, to stop that behavior in the past. When my dad saw Jane on her phone instead of helping, he told her to put her phone away. Jane proceeded to get up and walk out of the backroom and towards the front of the store.
My dad kept to his work with the truck for about 15 min when he noticed Jane hadn't come back yet, and so he went to go look for her. He was passing by Pete's office when he saw her sitting down inside, still on her phone, with Pete on a call at his desk. My dad asked why she was in there and still on her phone, and she responded that she needed to get something done. My dad reminded her that she should not be on her phone, and that she had already been warned to put it away. Jane started to raise her voice at my dad saying he needed to "get tf out of my face, or else!" Keep in mind, my dad was standing at the doorway of the office, probably about 10ft away from her. He was not in her face. My dad, raising his voice back at her, replied "or what?" He did not step towards her at all, but he was admittedly getting frustrated with her.
Before he could react, Jane got up, closed the distance between them, and punched my dad in the face, busting his lip and causing him to bleed. At this point, Pete hurriedly hung up the phone and placed himself in between my dad and Jane, asking my dad to walk away, which he did. To cut an already long story short, my dad was sent home for the day. And Jane was placed on paid suspension pending an HR investigation, while my dad continued working his normal hours. Today, nearly 2 weeks later, my dad was called into a meeting with HR and was terminated. We don't know if Jane was terminated, no do we have a reason as to why my dad was terminated.
Can anyone please give advice? I know Texas is an "at will" state, but this feels discriminatory considering my dad's age and how close he was to retirement. He had openly disclosed he was wanting to retire next year (2025). This all just seems so unfair to him. It doesn't feel like he did anything wrong.
Any advice is greatly appreciated!

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by Cavalierious
Later, before the turn of his fourth year, Rath is given new boots, a fresh tunic, and a rucksack full of dried beef. Father pulls him onto his horse, and together they leave the encampment, riding through the rolling plains of Sacae.
They find an outcropping, a jut of rock that splits the grass.
And there, Father leaves him.
Rath parses out his life, what family is, and finds his way home. Written for Stray Arrow, a Fire Emblem Archer Zine.
Words: 2934, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

• Fandoms: Fire Emblem: Rekka no Ken Fire Emblem: Blazing Sword
• Rating: General Audiences
• Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
• Categories: Gen
• Characters: Rath (Fire Emblem)/works), Lyndis (Fire Emblem)/works), Wil (Fire Emblem)/works)
• Additional Tags: Canon Compliant, Found Family, Squint and You might miss it Rath/Lyndis, Rath's particularly messed up backstory and him working through it, Angst, Happy Ending
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After years of struggling, even more so in the last couple of weeks, I have finally have some answers.
To rewind, I started Zoloft a couple months ago and have seen tremendous benefits from the medication. Initially starting with 50mg, I was soon brought up to 75mg a month later to which I saw great benefit.
Benefits aside, I quickly began experiencing a rollercoaster of emotions. I was warned by this community that something in my behaviour was odd. So after some contemplating, I sought help at the ER. Initially I didn't get the help I needed, and was discharged after waiting for hours and speaking to a doctor. Two days later I once again found myself at the ER, this time extremely suicidal and with a lack of will to live. I was going to take my life.
After feeling like I had lost it all I decided to cling for help, show one last cry of desperation. And so, I had taken an Uber to the ER and told them everything. I said I was suicidal, said how I wanted to end my life and was completely content with doing so. I wasn't put on a hold, but instead they booked me an appointment with the Mental Health crisis team a few days later (little did I know this would change everything). Although I didn't have much hope, the days went by, I pulled through and spoke to the lady over phone, and after telling her everything (with her kindly listening and making me feel heard) I was referred to a Psychiatrist.
That brings me to today, I just spoke to the Psychiatrist and we had a long and meaningful discussion. I told him everything I thought was concerning, everything that came to mind. I mentioned all of my thoughts and concerns, ideas as to what I was dealing with, and the questions I had with his consensus.
Pretty much, he said I had traits of both ADD and Bipolar Disorder. He said, because I'm young, the feelings I'm experiencing are normal, however, the grandiose ways in which my feelings manifest are not. I didn't get a formal diagnose, however, I was told that I'm at an increased risk of developing Bipolar and Manic episodes in the future. Not only that, but he said I have likely experienced a hypomanic episode already. Although I didn't get an official diagnosis I'm still content with the answers I did receive. He is going to put me on a low dose of mood stabilizers to act as a proactive measure, and with some coping mechanisms hopefully I will be set on the right track.
I want to thank everyone for the concern and support you have provided over the last month. This likely wouldn't have happened without this community. I know I was acting a little rash to some of you who were giving advice and for that I apologize. I think we can safely say I was likely experiencing a manic episode. I'm still going to stay on Zoloft (which I'm happy about) and I will be adding the Mood stabilizer in combination with that. Thanks again for the help!
Feel free to ask any questions, vent, express concerns or say whatever else you so desire. If you want someone to talk to, shoot me a PM. There's hope my friends. Reality might be bullshit but at least there is hope. 😊

Hi all! After a crazy, but incredibly fun and rewarding year earning my pilot certs, I wanted to make a write-up of my experience in hopes that it’ll be helpful for any other aspiring or current pilots. To summarize, I went from zero aviation experience to CFII in 13 months, Part 61, paying as I go and on the pretty cheap side. I do want to emphasize that I was ~incredibly~ lucky and had some very generous people who helped me out, and I could not have done this as efficiently and cheaply if it weren’t for them. I’m going to list all my takeaways below, but I think my biggest piece of advice is to network as much as you can because there are some amazing, generous people in this community that want to see us all succeed.
Background:
For context, I’m in my mid to late twenties and have been in the workforce for about 5 years. Through a combination of factors I decided to make a career switch to professional pilot but was hesitant because I did not want to take on debt. I have a family member who is an airline pilot who helped me devise a plan. I moved home and kept working my job remotely so I was able to put all my paychecks towards flying.
Private Pilot – 3 months, 75 hours TT, $12k
I did my private in a Piper Archer owned by my local FBO. The owner allowed my family member to be my instructor and gave me a small discount for pre-paying hours. We flew almost daily. I also took ground school at another local FBO in-person, and that was much more helpful than having to learn everything on my own because I was brand new to aviation. I took the private written exam as soon as my ground school concluded which was also the week of my checkride (bad idea in hindsight, but it worked out).
I solo’d around 25 hours and took my checkride with about 60 hours in the Archer (15 additional hours were in a friend’s airplane). The checkride was challenging, but straightforward and I was well prepared. The DPE said good things about me afterward and I was officially a private pilot! I’d be happy to answer questions or do a writeup in a separate post on any of my checkrides but for the sake of brevity I’ll skip that for now.
~Key takeaways from private:~
Fly as often as possible and make sure your instructor is aligned with that. Also stay on top of ground school. Also, don’t rush to take the checkride before you’re ready, it’s okay to have a lot of practice first. Lastly, I know DPE availability is a big issue in lots of areas and can cause people to have to wait on a checkride even though they’ve been ready for months. In my experience, if you try hard enough and call around, you will find someone. However, it might mean you have to travel a little bit which I know is not possible for everyone.
Instrument – 2 months, 150 hours TT, $14k
I was feeling a little fatigued after private so I was slow to start studying for instrument. I started by doing a lot of flying for fun, mainly flying in the Archer by myself on little cross countries to check off some of the requirements (in hindsight I should have found someone to split time with).
I did my instrument at a flight school in one of the adjacent states. This particular school specializes in accelerated programs, but they do not have a formalized instrument course. I went in-person and spoke with the director of flight operations to discuss my options. Since I had to take PTO to do this, the goal was to finish my instrument in one week with the checkride at the end. I paid a flat rate for the airplane and instructor time. I also stayed over there during that week so I had to pay for housing as well.
Before I went over there, I did some prep in the Archer that I did my private in and took the written exam (Sheppard air). I also purchased Sporty’s Instrument course and used that to prep and for the endorsement needed to take the written. The week I spent at the flight school was honestly a blast, and I was able to take my checkride on day 7 with 20 hours in the plane and about 4 hours of sim time. Again, happy to discuss the checkride in the comments or another post.
~Key takeaways from instrument:~
TAKE THE IRA, FII, AND IGI EXAMS AT THE SAME TIME. You only have to purchase the IRA Sheppard course and can take all 3 exams back to back. Also, again stay on top of ground school because instrument flying requires a lot of technical knowledge. But it honestly is really fun!
Commercial – 3 months, 263 hours TT, $8k
The biggest challenge for commercial was time building, of course. This is where networking saved me. I made friends with another instructor who frequented my local FBO who also owns a plane. He needed the time as well so we flew together a lot and I paid for the fuel. I also had another friend at the airport who owns a plane that he doesn’t fly often and offered to let me time build in that (again, I’ve been so lucky to come across some very generous people).
I did my checkride in the Archer that I learned in with my family member signing me off, and with the same DPE who did my private. Commercial was probably the easiest one I had done so far, but it still was no joke! I will say I was amazed with how much easier things came to me by this point versus when I first started, which was a great feeling.
~Key takeaways from commercial:~
Network, network, network. Spend as much time as you can at your local FBO or flight school and make friends with everyone. Like I’ve said, there are some very generous people out there who love to help out new pilots, and I could not have made it this far without them.
Also, in retrospect, it would have been a really good idea to have done commercial from the right seat. I’ve heard of a lot of people doing that and if I had, I would have been able to knock out CFI a lot sooner and cheaper.
Multi-engine add-on – 1 week, 298 hours TT, $4.3k
Shortly after getting my CPL, I had a week of PTO and decided to knock out my multi add-on. I found a flight school with a Seminole and got ahold of their MEI, and we figured we could knock it out during that week. I contacted the DPE who did my private and commercial and we scheduled my checkride for the end of the week. This flight school was about 2 hours driving from home, and I was able to stay with friends while I was there.
This one was a little challenging because this was in January in the midwest and we were seeing a lot of low IFR days. We ended up getting weathered out the first half of the week, but luckily the Seminole was an easy transition for me and we got me trained up in 3 days, 8 hours of flying. I took the checkride as scheduled and passed (I will say I have had extremely good luck with weather for all of my checkride days so far).
Sidenote: Prior to this checkride, I also took the AGI and IGI exams and asked the DPE who did my multi checkride to sign off on the ground instructor certificate at the same time. I did this because I’ve heard it helps when applying to CFI jobs (shows a little extra effort) and it was easier to do it this way versus having a FSDO issue the cert. Cost me $50 to the DPE.
~Key takeaways from multi:~
Do your research to find an airplane at a good rate. I paid $395 per hour which included the instructor, but I’ve seen some schools charging a lot more. Also, I looked into schools with accelerated courses that you pay as a package, and based on my experience I would not recommend because I was able to do it much cheaper my way.
My instructor did a good job of making sure I knew all the aircraft systems well enough to teach them in case I go for my MEI (which I would like to do soon). Since the MEL is light on material, I highly recommend this. Also, when I was doing research I was told to look for a Seminole or DA-42 because they’re easy trainers, which I would agree with based on my limited experience.
CFI – 1 month (on top of all my experience thus far), 316 hours TT, $5k
This was the scariest one for me. I had heard all along that CFI is the hardest and longest checkride and for the most part I would agree. I originally was planning on going to a school with an accelerated program for this, but after asking around I decided to do it on my own (with my family member signing me off).
This one was heavy on ground school. I got some lesson plans from various people as I heard that’s what everyone has prepared for the checkride, but I hardly ended up using them. I also had a friend send me PowerPoints he made for the technical subject areas. I edited them/made them my own and these are what I ended up using for the checkride along with a couple props.
As far as studying goes, the thing I found most helpful was watching random YouTube videos before bed every night. Although it was all review, I picked up a lot of tidbits that weren’t quite drilled into my brain as I still feel new to aviation overall. As the DPE described it, to be a good CFI you basically need to be a nerd about everything aviation and that’s what I tried to do. I would guess that I studied a few hours a day for a month and a half or so. As for the flying part, I had a little bit of right seat experience prior to buckling down for CFI (probably under 5 hours), so I’d guess it took me about 5 more hours to feel comfortable in the right seat. I took the checkride with the same DPE who did my private, commercial, and multi and passed! The checkride was 8 hours total so definitely a long day. As we were debriefing, I went ahead and scheduled CFII with him as well.
~Key takeaways from CFI:~
Start nerding out now (if you aren’t already). Keep a running collection of links and videos that explain concepts well or teach you something interesting, they will be useful for the checkride. Also, don’t buy lesson plans. As my DPE put it, there are really only like 5 lesson plans for any given topic and we all steal them from each other, so no need to reinvent the wheel or pay for them if someone else can give them to you. I’d also recommend really getting to know the PTS, because it lays out very clearly what you are required to do on the checkride (for example you know you’re going to need to teach runway incursions so it’s a good opportunity to be really prepared). I’m sure my last point is most applicable to those doing CFI on their own since you won’t have a school telling you exactly what to expect.
CFII – 1 month, 368 hours TT, $1.3k
CFII was possibly the easiest checkride to prepare for. I did this one in a friend’s airplane – a Mooney with a G750 and GFC 500 autopilot. It probably took about 10 hours of flying (I already have lots of time in this plane) to be ready. For studying, I reviewed Pilot Cafe, YouTube videos, and obtained some lesson plans from a friend. I did not use PowerPoints or anything for this one. I also had already completed the written exam back when I did my instrument rating. I’m not sure what else to say about this one, but I did it with the same DPE again and passed. It feels amazing to be done with checkrides for a while!
~Key takeaways from CFII:~
Select an airplane with a good autopilot. This made the flying portion of the checkride super easy. For the oral, I highly recommend working with instructors who send students for a lot of instrument checkrides. I feel like there are so many very specific questions that DPEs like to ask on instrument/CFII checkrides, so it helps if you have someone who knows what those questions are going to be. Also, FlightInsight on YouTube and Boldmethod were my favorite resources for this one. Lastly, make sure you know your avionics and autopilot really well, including reading and being able to teach all of the limitations that are in the user manuals.
Notes regarding cost:
I did a decent job of tracking all my expenses throughout this process. I noted in the title that the total cost to me was about $50k, which consists of the ~$45k that I discussed above plus some additional expenses. I also did my commercial ASES rating at Jack Brown’s seaplane base which cost me about $2.5K total (of course this was just for fun). The remaining amount consists of things like buying a headset, books, random accessories, and even some things I called “unnecessary expenses”. I temporarily paid for a membership at a flight school that I barely ended up using, so I put that in that category. While I did everything pretty cheap, I was definitely not perfect!
Here is a further breakdown of my expenses:
Airplane rentals/fuel - $36.9k
Instructor fees - $2.5k (bear in mind I got a lot of free instruction from friends & family)
Ground school - $1.3k (includes actual ground school and books)
Flight accessories - $1.2k
Written exam fees - $1.2k (8 exams total)
DPE fees - $5.8k (7 checkrides; this includes seaplane)
Medical fees - $290
Housing - $900
Misc/unnecessary expenses - $1.2k
Total: $51.7k
Overall Takeaways:
- For those doing Part 61/pay as you go, I highly recommend finding an independent instructor with a flexible schedule. This was key for me because I had a work schedule to work around.
- NETWORKING/MAKING FRIENDS. Go to every fly-in you can, always stop into the FBO to say hi to people, etc. etc. Having friends in aviation was monumentally helpful for me and saved me SO much money. Cannot stress this enough!
- If you are on a timeline, make sure you set specific milestones and when you are going to hit them. Make sure your instructor is on board too.
- Do your research! Reddit has been a fantastic resource for me throughout this process. Talk to people who have achieved the things you want to achieve. I really cannot thank you all enough for all your help and insights on your experiences!
Again, I am more than happy to answer any and all questions. I also apologize if anything is jumbled or confusing; this took a long time to write and I’m sure I missed things. I will also disclaim that while I did a good job of tracking all my expenses, I was not perfect and YMMV for sure. I just hope this gave a somewhat helpful picture for those hoping to do something similar to what I did.
As for next steps, I am aiming for the airlines one of these days! I have a couple interviews at flight schools coming up so I am planning to quit my job and finally start flying full-time soon. I want to do my MEI sometime soon as well but I haven’t figured out how I’m going to pay for the PIC time yet.
I also want to say that I absolutely love general aviation and hope to always be involved in it. I have made so many friends, had some incredible experiences, and learned way more than I could have ever imagined in the past year. For anyone thinking about flying, hopefully this is your sign to just do it! Feel free to comment with questions!

We've had a great experience with Cambridge Friends School. I would recommend CFS to anyone whose child would be a good fit for a relaxed environment that focuses on social justice, consideration for others, and working toward personal goals. Children can work on their strengths, yet receive support in areas where they may struggle. Teachers are quick to identify when a student is having difficulty, and also give praise when a student does something laudable that might not be considered "school work"--helping a classmate, offering a helpful comment, or making a suggestion for class rules.
The school embodies its mission and its message. The focus on peace and community is evident every day. The school is housed in an older building, but it's a cheerful building with the decorations on the wall and the big grins on so many students, staff members, and parents alike. It's not at all a flashy place, but that's in keeping with Simplicity: don't emphasize material stuff.
The staff are welcoming, warm, and helpful. Social gatherings with families are relaxed and fun, and it's easy to jump into meaningful conversations.
The acting head of school is cheerful, hard working, and engaged. She's easy to talk to, and she has deep ties to the school. Whether or not the school board offers her the position as "full" head of school rather than "acting," I hope she stays for years to come. If she is offered the position, and if it makes sense for her, then I hope she accepts.
Independent schools around Boston have different personalities, and generally you get a sense of that personality in one visit. Some schools feel more formal, and for some families and students that may be great. Other schools have huge campuses, with whole buildings dedicated to STEM, theater, art, or sports. Yet other schools pack a lot into a very small space. Cambridge Friends feels the same to me as it did the first time we stepped inside. I breathe easy when I'm there.
Before we joined Cambridge Friends we'd heard so many good things about Cambridge Friends from our friends, from neighbors, and even from one of our doctors. We're happy to be part of the community, and hope others take the chance to look into it.
I wrote this post partly because an older, negative post about the school caught some attention. That post was misleading, and arguably libelous.
As a member of the local community, and in the spirit of being a good neighbor, I'd suggest that the creator of that post seek help from a mental health professional. The misrepresentations and conspiratorial writing of the post suggest to me that, at the time the post was written, the author may have been going through a difficult time. The account was suspended [by moderators]--not deleted, as the author implied would happen. Comments written in a similarly harsh, negative tone appear to have been written by the original poster using a sock puppet account.* The second account was created only after the original post, and the only comments from that second account were replies in that one post, and nowhere else.
Rather than address every point in that post, as I'd originally planned to do, it was (I hope!) more helpful to create a positive post about a school that is important to us.
(*My account name is intended as a joke, and the account predates this discussion by a year.)

Hi, not 100% sure I’m posting in the right place, but I wanted to know if anyone had some book recommendations. As background, I’m not formally trained in geology or any earth sciences, but I’m a pretty able lay reader when it comes to technical things. (I’m a mathematician, and teach math and physics.) On a couple of trips in recent years, to Hawaii and California, I sought out books that I hoped might help me better understand what I was looking at when I saw mountains and craters and valleys a deserts and so on. For this, I happily stumbled upon Ziegler’s textbook “Hawaiian Natural History, Ecology, and Evolution” and Schoenherr’s “A Natural History of California.”
Now I’m spending a year in South America, especially Peru and Chile, and I’ve unsuccessfully sought something similar for South America broadly and the west coast/Andean region specifically. This week I happen to be in the area of Colca Canyon, and I’d love to have something on the geology and general natural history of the region, and of most any others on which something of similar level had been written.
It’s possible my trouble in finding quite what I want is due to my general lack of understanding of literature in earth sciences, or it’s possible there’s a lot of good stuff written in Spanish (which I’m learning, but not so great yet) but not English, or it’s possible something as comprehensive and polished as what I found for Hawaii and California is exceptional and I just won’t find that for most places I go. And, of course, Hawaii is rather small and specific compared to entire portions of entire continents, and maybe a book of the sort I’m imagining would just be too broad to be written (but California is still pretty huge and varied, so I might have thought the same for that!). But if anyone has recommendations, I’d much appreciate! If there are very good things for South America in general/the northwestern regions in particular that are in Spanish but not English, I’ll take those recommendations as well, hopefully before too long I’ll be good enough to read them. And for anyone who can’t think of anything at the more comprehensive level of the above-mentioned textbooks, I’d still appreciate recommendations for perhaps more specialized and technical works.

Context, last year I was head over heels for a girl who put little to no effort into the relationship in return, I was conflicted by her actions and our experiences all the while i was reading 1984 by George Orwell. I wrote this at a desk in a school hallway in isolation.
Genre: General essay?
14.5.24
To my love,
I’m stuck sitting in isolation with absolutely nothing to do. I’ve crammed so much of 1984 into my head that I’ll need to push some of it out. 1984 is a lot to read. Maybe it’s the way I read it or maybe it’s the pacing but sometimes I'll be reading it and find myself relating to it in a way. A quote stuck with me;”He pulled her round so that they were breast to breast; her body seemed to melt into his.” It reminded me of way back in the abandoned Asda stairwell when I melted into her- semi-conflicted between love and lust. After the stairwell got closed off; I felt as though I had lost a part of me too. I even found another stairwell but I knew it wouldn't be the same. It would feel forced, like how I turned her into me so that we could face each other. Sure it wasn’t with the intention of making out but it wasn't thought through first- almost impulsively. In1984, a couple pages later, it speaks about the kisses turning hard; unlike the smooth, butter-like melt they were before. I can feel that. It’s almost vivid. I feel as though after the thing with Austin, everything kinda crashed. When [NAME] had red hair, it was almost like she was infatuated with me. When she dyed it back to normal, I felt as if I had lost that. I could be delusional but when she said she hated who she was with the red hair, it kinda stuck with me. Overall, It’s very on-off. One moment I find myself fantasizing about marriage; the next, I see myself breaking up with her on the horizon. But after that first DM on insta, I promised myself it wouldn’t be a repeat of everyone else, she wouldn’t be a lesson or a test, she would be the practical, the real fucking thing. The one who kept me up at night simply with the thought of her. Is it bad if I relate to WInston? Lost and conflicted within society and using writing and reading as a means of escape. It isn’t necessarily illegal but the stuff I write feels like it could be critiqued in a way that makes it resistant- pushing against the normal methods of writing. Actually, I despise Winston. He let temptation overcome him. Sure, his environment may have dictated him into fantasizing rape but I still think that shit’s inexcusable. He still thinks fondly of it afterwards when having sex as well. Orwell is so fucking good at writing though. How can someone write so vividly that I have to stop, think and reflect upon my life and experiences. I think I’ll show [NAME]this paper. I’m not 100% sure she’ll read it; my feelings tend to be insignificant to her. But if someone wrote something about me, I’d be ever-so-curious to find out their perspectives. I also find it quite funny how Winston blabbers on to Julia about death but she abruptly shuts him up. Maybe that’s why she wanted me to read it (I need to stop yapping about death in situations where it’s uncalled for). When I write this, it’s like I’m texting her but she isn’t texting back. Or it’s like when I say something drunk with the drowsiness of fatigue and she reads it in the morning and that shit doesn’t hit the same AT ALL. I still remember when she was in Nottingham and we called the entire night. A part of me hopes that next time she calls (if she even does) we will get back into the swing of things and we can rebuild that bond. But for it to happen, I need to take a step back and stop being so fucking high maintenance. I’m constantly writing. My head has an endless flowing dialogue of words waiting to be scribed but not all of them do. Sometimes it feels like i feel too much; I feel so much; so much so that it numbs me to feeling. I’m not sure if you can relate but it’s like bubble wrap almost. Pumped up with feeling, any other emotion bounces right off. Or like a mental paracetamol, that kind of numbness. When [NAME] said that paracetamol burns holes in your stomach; I guess that's why when I feel numb, the words pour right out. Mental paracetamol should be a coined term. I feel like Shakespeare when I say that. Actually, right now, I feel like I’m in a void, a medium almost. A confined corner; trapped by the constant sounds of expensive dress shoes slamming against the hallway floors. I hope she reads this. I hope anyone reads this. I am seeking attention even in solitary confinement. I guess it’s inevitable for “just another kid with ADHD''. I think I’d like to write a book for her. Not in a puppy love-esque way; instead to make something she can enjoy. I’d have to binge a fuck -tonne of feminist literature to make it work. I’d have to live, breathe and regurgitate Sylvia Plath just to make something enjoyable for her (I’m kidding of course). (Not really). I’ve written so much- this could probably count as a fucking book. I’m not sure where she would even find the time to read this. She’ll probably lump it alongside the Smint container (filled with poems for her) to read when we break up. I think perspective changes a lot about a book. It’s not entirely how a book is written; instead, it’s about how you approach it or how you are introduced to it. I’ve been very pessimistic and pushy-away-ey recently. Regardless, I won’t cross anything out unless it’s a typo. I think it indirectly shows progression of a character especially when it’s in the form of hypophora almost. I want to write the best book ever and then die and have no-one read it. I think that's more significant than writing a shitty book and campaigning and promoting and all this consumerist bullshit. If you were proud of your work, you wouldn’t promote it, you would let it find its reader. For me, I’d put it in those tiny bird box community libraries that no one uses. Therefore, if someone craved my work, they could find it in a place they wouldn't look for it. Not for my book to gather dust on a tall decorative bookshelf. This is a bit of a rant i know. SOmetimes I’ll yap and let the words flow instead of actively writing them. Writing words is the worst way to write. You need to apply emotion and let the words unravel themselves. At least, that’s how I write, critique it however the fuck you want. I was once told that my writing is like a conversation- you know the ones where the other person keeps blabbering and you can’t get a word in. I don’t read enough to know if it’s unique or not but I know why I do it. It’s like I’m conversing with myself. I might throw a name in there or add some direct address. This might be breaking the fourth wall a bit but i guess the entire nature of this essay is. I need to read over my writing one day- I hate to do it but I think I’d learn a lot about myself if i did so. My writing feels a little bit lost at sea. It’s very jumpy from one topic to the next- like scrolling on tiktok. Also, I think there's a mix of me searching for empathy via slight victimization and undertones of slight narcissism. I’m probably over analyzing but I like my writing. Me personally, i get lost in the labyrinth of the lines and curvature of the letters. Will i regret writing so much? I mean sure, I guess a part of me will live on forever in my writing. But, then again, it’s wasting my life. I’d like to live- living is not writing. Living is not reading. To live is to experience with every sense possible. If I see, I am not living. If i smell, I am not living. But, to hear, to smell, to feel, to see and to taste simultaneously is to live. When living isn’t enough, I can understand why people resort to reading and writing. It’s ever-so-simple. I wish I can see [NAME] soon though. I’ll wish for it at 22:22 if i have to. Or on a shooting star. Or maybe even on a stray eyelash. I miss you[NAME]. I was going to say “I crave you” but that’s too sexual and comes with a million connotations. Saying “I require you” is too formal and needy. I think I should stick to the usual. What if i didnt say “I miss you” but instead I said “I miss your warm and enveloping embrace.” Maybe then she would text back.
This is fucking delusion,
From yours truly,
Raffy

,,To the angel of the church of Ephesus write: Thus says He who holds the seven stars in his right hand, and who walks in the midst of the seven golden candlesticks: I know your works, and your labor, and your patience, and that you cannot bear evil, and you have tried those who they say they are apostles, but they are not, and you have found them false; And you endured a lot, and you have patience, and for my name you worked hard, and you did not stop. "
Rev. 2:1-3
Here, in the second chapter, we have the revelation of Jesus that John wrote to the church of Ephesus. Ephesus is a city that was driven to idolatry and the glorification of false gods, and the symbolic meaning of saying Ephesus is "desired".
"Write to the angel of the church of Ephesus" this angel is the preacher of the church in Ephesus and we have seen that before, otherwise the meaning of the word angel in Greek is herald and that is in fact the purpose of preaching "the announcement of news or revelations" that arrived as we have seen in the first chapter from the Lord Jesus Himself.
Based on the record, "The secret of the seven stars that you saw on my right hand, and the seven golden candlesticks: the seven stars are the angels of the seven churches; and the seven lampstands which you saw are seven churches."
Rev. 1:20
we can say that this was an encouragement to the preacher in the church in Ephesus and to all the other preachers who preached the revelation of Jesus Christ, the Revelation sent through John. The same is the case with the preachers today and this is an encouragement to them because they are proclaiming the word of God and not their own science and exactly that's why Jesus addresses everyone and says that he holds them in the right hand of his power and authority, "Thus speaks the One who holds the seven stars in his right hand"
This speaks of the great importance of preachers who should convey the revelations of God recorded in the Bible and that is why they are called "stars" and the church is called "golden luminary".
,,and what walks in the middle of the seven golden candlesticks: "Since Ephesus was under the influence of false gods, the preacher and the church to which Jesus addresses should be of good material, and Jesus himself is in the middle of the church and He knows what is happening because He sees everything and everything knows.
The "seven golden candlesticks" say that Jesus spoke to seven addresses, and here we are talking about seven churches, and sent to the churches that are in Asia: to Ephesus, and to Smyrna, and to Pergamum, and to Thyatira, and to Sardis, and to Philadelphia, and to Laodicea"
Rev. 1:11
These were local churches that functioned independently of each other but were united in the love of Jesus Christ and each had its own preacher and the head was the Lord Jesus:
,,...and Christ is the head of the church, and he is the savior of the body."
Eph. 5:23
At the center of those churches was the Lord Jesus and even today it should be the Lord Jesus Christ and not a man because the Lord is the savior, it says:
"For where two or three are gathered in my name, there am I among them."
Matt. 18:20
"I know your works" clearly says that Jesus knows what is happening in the church and, of course, what the preacher and church members are doing because it further says, "I know your works and your labor". The members of the church in Ephesus worked hard and tried to would do something for the Lord. In addition to the work they had and the effort, another quality of the members is mentioned here, and your patience". Although they lived in difficult and dangerous times, the church in Ephesus was patient and resisted the pressures that were definitely there lived differently from other Jews and did not want to continue living the way they were probably recommended by the rabbis and tradition, but lived according to the new higher standards of Jesus Christ, and that bothered the religious leaders a lot,, And you endured a lot, and you have patience, and for my sake you labored, and you did not stop."
We further read that false apostles came to them with their teachings, but they did not receive them before checking and when they saw that they were bringing another doctrine, they did not receive them into their church, and that you cannot bear the wicked, and you tried those who say that they are apostles, but they weren't and you found them false". And they could recognize them because they were true believers, they knew what it means to be a disciple of Jesus who works for the Lord. It is written about them:
"And this was known to all who lived in Ephesus, both Jews and Greeks; and fear entered all of them, and the name of the Lord Jesus was glorified. And many of those who believed came and confessed and told what they had done. And many of those who cast spells, gathered their books and burned them in front of everyone; and they calculated and found that they were worth fifty thousand groschi. Thus the word of the Lord grew healthily and prevailed."
Acts 19:17-20
The apostle Paul warned about false apostles, but it was necessary for the church in Ephesus to know God's word well in order to recognize the real ones from the false apostles. Paul warns:
"Take care, then, of yourselves and of all the flock in which the Holy Spirit has appointed you bishops to shepherd the church of the Lord and God, which he acquired with his own blood; For I know this that after my departure grievous wolves will enter among you who will not spare the flock; And among yourselves there will be men who will speak perverse doctrine to turn away the disciples after themselves."
Acts 20:28-30
And the apostle John writes about this:
"Kind! Do not believe every spirit, but try the spirits to see if they are from God; for many false prophets have gone out into the world."
1 John 4:1
And we read about who those false prophets were in the sixth verse.. But this is what you have that you hate the actions of the Nikolini, which I also hate." so there were the Nikolini who were a "sect" founded by a man called Nicholas, who was probably from Jerusalem. Misconceptions practiced by the Nicolaitans: they tried to divide the church into priests and laymen, that is, into those who rule and those who are submissive. This was already a practice that was applied in some churches because the apostle Jovan writes:
"I wrote to the church; but Diotrephes, who wants to be the oldest among us, does not receive us."
3 John 1:9
and secondly, they taught and practiced that a sin after conversion is not a sin, and the apostle Paul fights against this, saying:
"So what are we going to say? Shall we remain in sin that grace may multiply? God forbid!"
Rom. 6:1
Here we see that Satan tried to corrupt the church in Ephesus, but the church recognized the false teaching and rejected such teachings, and that is why the Lord Jesus praises them and adds, "which I also hate". Here the church harmonized its way of life and glorifying God with the will God's, and that is exactly what God wants each of us to do, because we received God's revelation in advance, and everything we need to know is said there.
"Because I believe in God that it will be as I was told"
Acts 27:25

Previous Entry
Writing these things has made me realize how different I sound these days. Back when all this started I’m not sure I even spoke English and I certainly didn’t speak like I do now but to be honest, I don’t remember. Trying to recall things to write has made me realize exactly how many little things I’ve forgotten over the years. The sights, the sounds, all those fade into the background of most events.
Even something as visceral as Archer’s basement still takes me a while to recall clearly. I wonder if it’s more than just my long life, we do age after all. I mentioned before that sunlight is not deadly to vampires like myself but very unpleasant, that and it makes us more normal. In the sun I won’t be as strong as I would be in the dark and by my assessment I age in the sun as well. Not any faster than a normal person but I do age, its why I don’t still look like that little boy stuck in Paris anymore.
I did spend quite some time in Paris before I left or rather, escaped. I’m not sure I ever would have left if not for the war. I didn’t have many friends there save for other… I’m not sure what to call them… entities? Whatever you want to cal it I had some friends in the more supernatural parts of the city. A vampire named Belle had become a sort of mother figure to me over the years spent there.
I met her by chance one night as I sated myself in an alley. I was ready to fight but she just laughed and flashed her own fangs at me, ridiculing me for being so careless. It was under her wing where I learned everything I know now about vampires. It’s where I realized not all vampires endure sunlight as well as I do, if anything that one trait is what’s most unique about me according to her. But thats not the story I want to tell on these pages tonight. I want to tell the story of lieutenant Marsh and the real beginnings of the organization that would become Chimera.
When war came to Paris that summer I was unprepared. I never expected the war to spiral out of hand so quickly or for it to force me out of my home. I was with Belle and a few more of her friends whose names escape me waiting out the worst of it and hoping things would blow over in the city soon. Obviously we were completely misguided, it was that sense of invulnerability again just the same as when I was a boy. The world was our playground and nothing could hurt us. It didn’t help that in some ways I really was invulnerable and it went straight to my head.
Only flashes of my memory from that day remain. I remember the nazi soldier kicking in the door and firing at Belle’s friends. I remember the screaming that abruptly ended in a single gunshot. I remember the trail of blood leading to her friends body where it lay staked to the ground in the sun. We heal fast, not instantly but much faster than a human. Put us in sunlight though, and we’re just as fragile as a normal person. It was the first time I’d seen someone with abilities like ours die and it made me feel mortal again for the first time in decades.
The rest of the day is a disjointed blur. Belle and I fled the city, I blank out on the specifics of it but we made it out with some difficulty. After that we hunkered down for the night in a rickety old shack. I remember wanting to push on through the day but Belle protested, she didn’t deal with the sun as well as I did. When night finally fell we fled to the coast and managed to catch a ship heading towards the United States.
The trip was unpleasant to say the least, neither of us made good stowaways. We weren’t living life in the lap of luxury before by any means but we lived comfortably. This was a far cry from what we were used to in Paris and the welcome we received was even worse. Apparently fleeing for your own survival is a crime, both of us were separated and sent to prison on our arrival to the states for stowing away on the ship.
That was the last time I ever saw Belle, I get letters from her every now and then but I haven’t seen her in person since. She does well for herself, works in D.C. as a sort of handler for the supernatural. Regrettably she does work with Chimera, says they have the best interests at heart for the supernatural but she doesn’t see what I see out here. She doesn’t know the part I played in its creation, what it really stood for in the beginning. Chimera tends to kill first these days rather than actually try to help or give the supernatural some kind of place in the world. I think thats why I haven’t been to visit her, I just don’t want to argue with a friend as old as her. Funnily enough I don’t think anyone knows she’s a vampire. I doubt they’d take that very well, she’d probably lose her position. They must have suspicions though because theres no way she’d be able to get letters to me without Baelen knowing about it. Every few months they keep showing up though and I always make sure to write her back.
Anyways I’m getting off topic, back to my story. I was in prison for months until an offer came my way, serve the rest of my sentence or enlist in the army and be a free man when I came back, if I came back. Of course I took the offer, I didn’t realize how suspicious that deal sounded at the time but it actually played out exactly as they said. I also didn’t have much of a choice in the matter either. It was hard to get my hands on any blood when I was almost constantly under watch and I could feel the effects it was having on me. I figured it would be best to get a change of scenery.
The next week I was off to training then not long after, we shipped out to the trenches and met the commander of the platoon I’d been assigned to. That’s the first time I met Lieutenant Johnson Marsh and what a man he was. That first day I was convinced I’d never see a smile ever again, the trenches were a horrible depressing place. But there Marsh was, laughing and smiling and just generally enjoying life with the rest of the platoon. He was either crazy or stupid, thats what my first thoughts about him were. I remember those clearly even today but I couldn’t have been more wrong. If anything he may have turned out to be one of the smartest men I ever knew.
The first few weeks were spent holding our position from the germans. It was brutal but I found I was a decent shot with the rifle I was given. Marsh on the other hand spent those weeks barking orders at us and keeping us in line. He never used a rifle like most of the soldiers used. Instead he kept a Beretta m9 with him at all times. That weapon was the only one I ever saw him use. I remember the name only because he was so found of explaining everything there was to know about the gun to me whenever I questioned him about it. You could immediately recognize the pistol as his by its strange grip. One side of it had a picture of an idyllic scene of a manor house in the middle of a sprawling field. The other had a painting of a woman, his wife I’d guess but he never actually told me if that was there case. He seemed to spend the nights staring with longing at each side of the artistic grip.
I’d never really had a family, even with Belle I’d always felt like I was a bit of an outsider. There was so much I didn’t know about how normal people lived. Even though I’d had friends in Paris we were always kind of hidden away in our own personal corner. There was this separation between us and normal life, even between the other supernaturals in the area.
Here I felt like I was part of something though. Sure I was still lost but so was everyone else, we could be lost together and Marsh would always set us straight in the end. There was something about the man, some piece of him that just understood what we were all going through. He expected a lot from us but he was never unreasonable and several times even argued with command on our behalf when ridiculous orders came our way. I actually wanted to serve with him. The rest of the platoon wasn’t bad but they’d all been given the same deal as me. They were all just there to get out of prison. I’m still not sure what Marsh’s story was, he always kept that to himself but any of us would’ve taken a bullet for that man.
Our first real assignment came maybe three months into my period of indentured service. Our platoon was tasked with rescuing a captured American scientist and capturing a German scientist. The scientists in question were Frank Smith and Stein Hoffman and no, the irony of those names is not lost on me, fits the two of them though. I’m sure doctor Frankenstein wishes he was successful as those two. But before those orders could be acted on we had to overtake a German trench surrounding the compound they were staying in.
That fight was bloody and we lost several good men in the chaos. At one point a trench gun was shoved into my arms and I launched myself into the German trench. I wouldn’t be surprised if ghost stories are still passed around of what I did that day. After I made my way over and into the German trench I lashed out with all I had. Moving with superhuman speed and lashing out with both the bayonet affixed to my gun and my fangs, I fell upon the Germans. They stood little chance as I tore into them and all by my lonesome I ensured we’d face no more resistance.
Marsh was the first over into the now silent trench, I’m glad it was him because I’m not sure anyone else would’ve understood like him. I was holding the German officer to the trench wall, fangs buried in his neck as I fed when I heard footsteps behind me. I dropped him and turned to see Marsh staring questioningly at me. I must’ve been a sight to see, blood dripping from my mouth and covering my bullet torn uniform. Marsh steadied himself for a moment and shouted back to the rest of the platoon,
“Boys hold up a second! Just get down and stay up there a minute won’tcha!”
All of a sudden he took a step forward and a well mannered grin took its usual place on his lips.
“Though You didn’t care for sauerkraut J.?”
The joke stunned me, I fully expected him to shoot me then and there, put me down like the abomination I must’ve looked like to him.
“Lieutenant I…”
But Marsh raised his hands to cut me off.
“Command’d probably want me to shoot’cha, hell maybe I aught’a but I don’t think it’d be right. You seem decent, little odd sure but you’ve got heart, I see it in the way you look out for the boys. Plus I always figured there was some’n off about you. The way you stay out’a the light always seem a little faster and stronger than anyone got the right to be just didn’t figure it’d be…. That.”
Marsh told me pointing to the punctures in the officers neck.
“Thank you lieutenant, Could we keep this between us though sir?”
“Drop the formalities J. Jesus! We’re all friends here.”
“I just don’t want the others to know, they may not be as understanding as you.”
“No can do, but you can tell em’ yourself. Alright men, get on down here!”
In all my years I’d never had to explain myself to anyone up until that point. I guess that day my number was up but I never knew just how understanding people, normal people could be. I’d always lived around the supernatural in Paris, didn’t interact much with the normal people I saw in the streets every day, I didn’t have to. I’d always assumed there was a reason for that but in the moment I realized there wasn’t, not really. I’d just avoided normal people because I feared what they’d think if it came out that I wasn’t like them.
Of course There were some of the men that objected to… what I was. Most of them took after Marsh though. They didn’t really care what I was, I’d proven to them I was a good person and thats all that mattered. I just wish they’d been right about me back then because the truth was I still hadn’t learned to care, not really. Even the ones who objected came around eventually and that night Marsh finally came clean to me about why exactly he was so accepting.
According to him he’d always assumed there was more out there, things beyond human that lived on the fringes of society. Even he always thought he sounded crazy. I was the proof he needed to convince himself he wasn’t. Marsh also told me what we were really doing with the scientists. Both Frank and Stein researched the supernatural, their projects were as secret as secret could be. Marsh’s interests and theories, as personal as he tried to keep them showed up in his file somewhere. The higher ups had handpicked him for this mission because of it. The official story was that Frank had been captured but in reality he defected to further his own research with a like minded individual. Our mission was really to force Frank back into the fold and take Stein along with him.
The more he talked the more I could tell his heart was fully committed to this mission and the final assault tomorrow. I’d never seen someone so… alive. In my extremely long life I don’t think Id ever felt that kind of conviction myself. So I promised him I’d have his back tomorrow no matter what.
Morning broke and with it our assault began. Intel on the German defenses was shoddy at best but we never expected what we’d actually run into. At least three times our number acted as guards so a distraction was in order to give us a window of entry. A few of the men would handle the distraction “however they saw fit” to quote Marsh. Then Marsh and I would make our way into the compound itself and the rest of the platoon would cover us.
For what its worth most of the plan went off without a hitch. A tremendous explosion signaled Marsh and I to press the advantage and rush the confused soldiers that lay in front of us. Some actually turned and ran from me, apparently word of my stunt in the trenches yesterday had spread quickly. The rest of the platoon followed behind us but then our luck ran out with the roar of an engine.
An honest to god panzer tank rolled out of a tunnel we hadn’t seen that ran under the compound and turned its barrel towards us. I almost didn’t hear the blast from how slow time seemed to move. But move it did as the explosion of the shell’s impact scattered bodies left and right. The shell impacted behind us but the sheer force of the blast threw Marsh and I to the ground, knocking us unconscious.
When I slowly came to my eyes couldn’t believe what I was seeing. A man dressed in red priestly robes with a matching red top hat was walking between the bodies. When he approached one that groaned out with agony he’d kneel down and whisper things I couldn’t hear to them, after that he’d snap his fingers. sometimes the person he was talking with would disappear other times they would fall silent and sometimes it didn’t appear that anything happened at all.
Just the sight of the man terrified me and I wasn’t sure why. It was an instinctual reaction, the second I lay eyes on him I froze up and ice cold fear crept its way up my spine. When people accuse me of being the devil this man is who I think of. Even today I’m not sure what it is he does or why. What I do know is that he never looks the same. I’ve seen him appear as male, female, even as an animal on a few occasions but I can always tell. The second I’m near him no matter what he looks like the same old feeling comes over me.
Once my vision had finally focused in on the man he seemed to notice without ever looking at me. I blinked and suddenly he was there, kneeling over me.
“Would you like to live.”
He rasped down at me with a voice that seemed to boom around me no matter how quiet it must’ve actually been. I felt like a child again, staring at Archer for the first time. I’d never really had to fear death before but here I was, sure I was about to meet my end right here. In all honestly I wasn’t injured all that bad, I probably could’ve survived with or without this man help. But something told me that if I said no he’d make sure I would die right here.
“Ye…y… yes”
I stuttered out, barley able to form the words through the pain that stabbed throughout my body.
“You will be my instrument for one night at a time of me choosing.”
The man replied. I stayed silent as I stared into his eyes, trying to determine if the sunglasses he wore were tinted or if his eyes really did burn with an infernal red light. The man cocked his head as if waiting for a response to his question. I’m not sure if question was the right word though, there wasn’t much of a choice for me.
Looking back there was always a choice, maybe I could’ve survived on my own merits, found another way. In the years to come I’d wish I just said no, even if it would’ve cost me my life. But thats not what happened. I nodded and the deal maker snapped his fingers. As soon as he had dark clouds flooded the sky and blocked out the sun, allowing my body to begin repairing itself. The man moved on to where Marsh’s body lay and probably made him the same deal as I felt my body healing. Despite that, my consciousness faded again as I strained to try and hear what the man would say to Marsh.
We never actually discussed the man at all. Not then and not in the years since. Maybe that was all an unspoken part of Marsh’s deal. Maybe both of us just wished that man was nothing more than a waking dream, a vivid hallucination. Whatever the case neither of us ever mentioned that man to each other.
The next time I woke up I was chained to a table next to Marsh. We had been captured and brought before the very scientists we were here to apprehend. There were guards around but they all seemed to be waiting for some kind of order. I was certainly surprised when that order came in perfect English, even more surprised when the order was to let us down so we could talk.
Frank and Stein ended up being quite reasonable people. The two let us stay in relative comfort in the compound as long as we agreed to stay and leave them to their work. That was all the convincing it took for me. I understand that the men I’d served with were all dead and that these two were in some way responsible. Maybe that should’ve bothered me more, today it certainly would’ve. Back then I didn’t think the same way, they accepted me for what I was but only briefly, only out of respect for Marsh. What did the lives of people I’d known for so short a time really matter? Writing this now just makes me realize how cold I was before, I didn’t care for anything beyond myself. I’d made no efforts to find Belle since we were separated and how long had I known her, 100 years, more? I may have pretended I cared but when push came to shove I simply tried to make sure I survived.
Marsh wasn’t as cold as me, in fact he almost immediately reached for where his pistol should’ve been when he was unchained. It took Frank, Stein, and myself weeks to convince him that helping would be the right decision. He didn’t like it at first but little by little I think the scientists grew on him. The guards I’d seen our first day here seemed to thin out the longer we stayed. Wether that was a gesture of trust or simply because they were needed for more important duties I don’t know but it certainly eased Marsh’s mind.
I merely observed the scientists most of the time until Stein asked me for a sample of my blood. It didn’t surprise me that he knew what I was but for obvious reasons I was hesitant to give it to him, especially considering what I’d seen so called doctors do with vampire blood. Eventually he wore me down and I gave let him take a sample just to shut him up. After that I became more involved in their research though not by choice. They had me showcasing my abilities and tested the effects of sunlight on my blood. On a few rare occasions Stein even injected it into other prisoners that were brought in, something I put a stop to very quickly. T
hat sample of blood is why Frank and Stein are still around today. Somehow they managed to isolate whatever part of my DNA allows me to age so much slower than a normal person. They took that and spliced it into their own DNA against my recommendations. The crazy thing was it actually worked. Sure they had a newfound appreciation for rare steaks but beyond that I didn’t notice any of the effects that combining vampire DNA with your own would usually have.
As Marsh and I assisted the scientist’s research however we could we both came to the realization that they needed each other to function. Stein lacked a moral compass and was prone to suggest unethical or risky procedures, sometimes going so far as to carry them out without informing Frank. Frank on the other hand preferred caution in everything he did and sometimes I noticed him personally taking and shredding requests Stein had written for test subjects, hazardous materials, or samples from supernatural entities. The two kept a very delicate dance of checks and balances. Stein ever the daring mad scientist and Frank always playing the role of overly cautious genius.
Marsh and Frank got along extremely well near the end. The two would be up at all hours of the night as Frank explained what kind of things really existed in the world. Marsh always shared these ideas of a world where the supernatural and the normal could live together and I think Frank shared that vision. It wasn’t possible, still isn’t but treating the supernatural as something other than monsters couldn’t possibly be a bad thing. I think thats where the idea of the Bureau of Supernatural Affairs really came from, those talks Marsh had with anyone who would listen.
Overtime one of our favorite conversations was what we would do when the war was over and we could leave this compound. Stein wasn’t sure he would, if his research wasn’t going to a man who’d simply use it to cause more conflict he wouldn’t mind staying. Frank wanted to return home, if that was even possible and he asked if Stein would join him. Those two had also become close friends through our months in the lab. That checks and balances relationship they had made them basically inseparable. Marsh’s answer surprised me though, he said he wanted to get out of the military and start a program, something to help the supernatural live closer to normal lives. At least keep tabs on them so that the quality of their lives might improve. I was stunned, I couldn’t believe he’d throw his career away just to chase this pipe dream of his. I didn’t even know Marsh was concerned with that kind of thing. I didn’t have an answer of my own so I said I’d join Marsh and help with this program idea of his. Actually, even Frank and Stein seemed to agree with Marsh’s way of thinking. Little did we know the war would end less than a month after our talk and we’d all get the chance to actually put Marsh’s little idea to the test.
Once the Americans had come and discovered the compound pretty much abandoned aside from us we were all taken prisoner and shipped back to America. We were all interrogated and they either heard what they wanted to hear, or decided anyone we’d talk to about our experiences would assume we were just crazy. We were released back into society under constant surveillance. They even gave us a sizable home in D.C., it was certainly bugged to its core but thats exactly what we wanted.
Through the next year we used Frank and Steins knowledge and my supernatural nature to track down entities all over the country. We made sure that everything was discussed and planned out in the house. That way however was listening knew exactly what we were doing and how successful it was. It wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows though, some entities would rather we didn’t know about them. Others were naturally aggressive but some we were actually able to help.
Our escapades as a group of four didn’t last much past the first year. Mostly because our master plan of using the bugs worked perfectly. Ol’ uncle Sam had been listening in and wanted his chance at calling the shots but it meant we became a legitimate organization, the BSA. Technically the acronym was already taken but no one ever complained and Marsh never came up with anything better.
We spent 4 years doing everything we could to improve the lives of supernatural beings everywhere. Not every one of our endeavors was a success but we did some good in the world. One such project was blood banks for vampires. While the blood that gets donated is used for transfusions and the like some was put into cold storage for the BSA. That got distributed to vampires who had come to an agreement with us to stop hunting humans for blood. Some vampires were even selected for jobs at these blood banks, under the supervision of BSA agents of course.
The more human supernaturals like werewolves, vampires, and succubi even used us to find jobs in the world. We made in roads for the supernatural in daily life because of it. Werewolves would use their strength for government construction. Vampire’s long lives made them excellent archivists or history teachers because they actually been there for those events. A succubus’s ability to understand and control someones emotions and reactions made them excellent therapists and conflict deescalation specialists. Those are just some of the fields we managed to get the supernatural involved in. While they usually had to hide their natural they were wildly successful.
Everything went well until that fourth year when I first met Baelen. He was headstrong from the beginning, the powers that be were grooming him for leadership. He was everything they wanted, he followed orders and didn’t question things to much. In short, he was the perfect solution to the inconvenience the four of us caused running the organization as we saw fit. But baleen had a mean streak, he didn’t want to protect the supernatural so much as he wanted to put them in their place. Unfortunately a lot of the research we provided had scared pretty much everyone above us who had never even entertained the idea of the supernatural until now. That meant Baelen’s ideas of monitoring and segregating the supernatural population were popular. So popular that suggesting culling their numbers to keep them in check and under the thumb of the BSA was an idea they actually entertained. That sentiment caught on and our orders became more and more militant.
Every time we disregarded them to do things the way we had envisioned the consequence grew steeper. Eventually Frank, Stein, Marsh, and I just couldn’t stand to see what our BSA had become so we left. We couldn’t do anything else to stop what was coming from the inside, no point in going down with the ship.
After that Baelen quickly ended up heading the whole operation. He still took orders directly from government officials and when the BSA became part of homeland security it became Chimera division. Why they chose such a stupid name I’ll never know but the organization was a shadow of its former self. Before we looked out for the supernatural, tried to help. Under Baelen Chimera just exists to monitor the supernatural and “correct” any issues uncle Sam decides to have with them. They’re glorified enforcers that don’t give a damn how the supernatural actually have it. That’s not to say some good people don’t work for them, people like Belle and even Marsh’s own daughter as far as I’m aware.
It sickens me to think I was a part of it though, for all the good we did maybe it would’ve been better if Johnson Marsh’s pipe dream would’ve stayed just that. I can do a lot but I can’t change the past so I guess we’ll never know. A while ago I heard that something had happened in a little nowhere town out in New Mexico. Pretty much dropped off the face of the Earth. The only reason I even heard about it was through Belle’s letters. Apparently Chimera had to do some huge cover up job and decided it was better if the town just never existed. Maybe I should go myself and see if I can’t piece what happened together. Could be that someone else out there has it in for Chimera and is a whole lot more direct about it than me. I’m just imaging it was some runaway experiment Frank and Stein got up to. I wonder where those two ended up, I’ll have to check up on them sometime. This journal writing is digging up a lot of memories for me but thats probably a good thing. Write them down before I forget again. I think that’ll be all for today then, why do I keep addressing these like someone’s reading them? Not much point to that is there?

Previous Entry
Writing these things has made me realize how different I sound these days. Back when all this started I’m not sure I even spoke English and I certainly didn’t speak like I do now but to be honest, I don’t remember. Trying to recall things to write has made me realize exactly how many little things I’ve forgotten over the years. The sights, the sounds, all those fade into the background of most events.
Even something as visceral as Archer’s basement still takes me a while to recall clearly. I wonder if it’s more than just my long life, we do age after all. I mentioned before that sunlight is not deadly to vampires like myself but very unpleasant, that and it makes us more normal. In the sun I won’t be as strong as I would be in the dark and by my assessment I age in the sun as well. Not any faster than a normal person but I do age, its why I don’t still look like that little boy stuck in Paris anymore.
I did spend quite some time in Paris before I left or rather, escaped. I’m not sure I ever would have left if not for the war. I didn’t have many friends there save for other… I’m not sure what to call them… entities? Whatever you want to cal it I had some friends in the more supernatural parts of the city. A vampire named Belle had become a sort of mother figure to me over the years spent there.
I met her by chance one night as I sated myself in an alley. I was ready to fight but she just laughed and flashed her own fangs at me, ridiculing me for being so careless. It was under her wing where I learned everything I know now about vampires. It’s where I realized not all vampires endure sunlight as well as I do, if anything that one trait is what’s most unique about me according to her. But thats not the story I want to tell on these pages tonight. I want to tell the story of lieutenant Marsh and the real beginnings of the organization that would become Chimera.
When war came to Paris that summer I was unprepared. I never expected the war to spiral out of hand so quickly or for it to force me out of my home. I was with Belle and a few more of her friends whose names escape me waiting out the worst of it and hoping things would blow over in the city soon. Obviously we were completely misguided, it was that sense of invulnerability again just the same as when I was a boy. The world was our playground and nothing could hurt us. It didn’t help that in some ways I really was invulnerable and it went straight to my head.
Only flashes of my memory from that day remain. I remember the nazi soldier kicking in the door and firing at Belle’s friends. I remember the screaming that abruptly ended in a single gunshot. I remember the trail of blood leading to her friends body where it lay staked to the ground in the sun. We heal fast, not instantly but much faster than a human. Put us in sunlight though, and we’re just as fragile as a normal person. It was the first time I’d seen someone with abilities like ours die and it made me feel mortal again for the first time in decades.
The rest of the day is a disjointed blur. Belle and I fled the city, I blank out on the specifics of it but we made it out with some difficulty. After that we hunkered down for the night in a rickety old shack. I remember wanting to push on through the day but Belle protested, she didn’t deal with the sun as well as I did. When night finally fell we fled to the coast and managed to catch a ship heading towards the United States.
The trip was unpleasant to say the least, neither of us made good stowaways. We weren’t living life in the lap of luxury before by any means but we lived comfortably. This was a far cry from what we were used to in Paris and the welcome we received was even worse. Apparently fleeing for your own survival is a crime, both of us were separated and sent to prison on our arrival to the states for stowing away on the ship.
That was the last time I ever saw Belle, I get letters from her every now and then but I haven’t seen her in person since. She does well for herself, works in D.C. as a sort of handler for the supernatural. Regrettably she does work with Chimera, says they have the best interests at heart for the supernatural but she doesn’t see what I see out here. She doesn’t know the part I played in its creation, what it really stood for in the beginning. Chimera tends to kill first these days rather than actually try to help or give the supernatural some kind of place in the world. I think thats why I haven’t been to visit her, I just don’t want to argue with a friend as old as her. Funnily enough I don’t think anyone knows she’s a vampire. I doubt they’d take that very well, she’d probably lose her position. They must have suspicions though because theres no way she’d be able to get letters to me without Baelen knowing about it. Every few months they keep showing up though and I always make sure to write her back.
Anyways I’m getting off topic, back to my story. I was in prison for months until an offer came my way, serve the rest of my sentence or enlist in the army and be a free man when I came back, if I came back. Of course I took the offer, I didn’t realize how suspicious that deal sounded at the time but it actually played out exactly as they said. I also didn’t have much of a choice in the matter either. It was hard to get my hands on any blood when I was almost constantly under watch and I could feel the effects it was having on me. I figured it would be best to get a change of scenery.
The next week I was off to training then not long after, we shipped out to the trenches and met the commander of the platoon I’d been assigned to. That’s the first time I met Lieutenant Johnson Marsh and what a man he was. That first day I was convinced I’d never see a smile ever again, the trenches were a horrible depressing place. But there Marsh was, laughing and smiling and just generally enjoying life with the rest of the platoon. He was either crazy or stupid, thats what my first thoughts about him were. I remember those clearly even today but I couldn’t have been more wrong. If anything he may have turned out to be one of the smartest men I ever knew.
The first few weeks were spent holding our position from the germans. It was brutal but I found I was a decent shot with the rifle I was given. Marsh on the other hand spent those weeks barking orders at us and keeping us in line. He never used a rifle like most of the soldiers used. Instead he kept a Beretta m9 with him at all times. That weapon was the only one I ever saw him use. I remember the name only because he was so found of explaining everything there was to know about the gun to me whenever I questioned him about it. You could immediately recognize the pistol as his by its strange grip. One side of it had a picture of an idyllic scene of a manor house in the middle of a sprawling field. The other had a painting of a woman, his wife I’d guess but he never actually told me if that was there case. He seemed to spend the nights staring with longing at each side of the artistic grip.
I’d never really had a family, even with Belle I’d always felt like I was a bit of an outsider. There was so much I didn’t know about how normal people lived. Even though I’d had friends in Paris we were always kind of hidden away in our own personal corner. There was this separation between us and normal life, even between the other supernaturals in the area.
Here I felt like I was part of something though. Sure I was still lost but so was everyone else, we could be lost together and Marsh would always set us straight in the end. There was something about the man, some piece of him that just understood what we were all going through. He expected a lot from us but he was never unreasonable and several times even argued with command on our behalf when ridiculous orders came our way. I actually wanted to serve with him. The rest of the platoon wasn’t bad but they’d all been given the same deal as me. They were all just there to get out of prison. I’m still not sure what Marsh’s story was, he always kept that to himself but any of us would’ve taken a bullet for that man.
Our first real assignment came maybe three months into my period of indentured service. Our platoon was tasked with rescuing a captured American scientist and capturing a German scientist. The scientists in question were Frank Smith and Stein Hoffman and no, the irony of those names is not lost on me, fits the two of them though. I’m sure doctor Frankenstein wishes he was successful as those two. But before those orders could be acted on we had to overtake a German trench surrounding the compound they were staying in.
That fight was bloody and we lost several good men in the chaos. At one point a trench gun was shoved into my arms and I launched myself into the German trench. I wouldn’t be surprised if ghost stories are still passed around of what I did that day. After I made my way over and into the German trench I lashed out with all I had. Moving with superhuman speed and lashing out with both the bayonet affixed to my gun and my fangs, I fell upon the Germans. They stood little chance as I tore into them and all by my lonesome I ensured we’d face no more resistance.
Marsh was the first over into the now silent trench, I’m glad it was him because I’m not sure anyone else would’ve understood like him. I was holding the German officer to the trench wall, fangs buried in his neck as I fed when I heard footsteps behind me. I dropped him and turned to see Marsh staring questioningly at me. I must’ve been a sight to see, blood dripping from my mouth and covering my bullet torn uniform. Marsh steadied himself for a moment and shouted back to the rest of the platoon,
“Boys hold up a second! Just get down and stay up there a minute won’tcha!”
All of a sudden he took a step forward and a well mannered grin took its usual place on his lips.
“Though You didn’t care for sauerkraut J.?”
The joke stunned me, I fully expected him to shoot me then and there, put me down like the abomination I must’ve looked like to him.
“Lieutenant I…”
But Marsh raised his hands to cut me off.
“Command’d probably want me to shoot’cha, hell maybe I aught’a but I don’t think it’d be right. You seem decent, little odd sure but you’ve got heart, I see it in the way you look out for the boys. Plus I always figured there was some’n off about you. The way you stay out’a the light always seem a little faster and stronger than anyone got the right to be just didn’t figure it’d be…. That.”
Marsh told me pointing to the punctures in the officers neck.
“Thank you lieutenant, Could we keep this between us though sir?”
“Drop the formalities J. Jesus! We’re all friends here.”
“I just don’t want the others to know, they may not be as understanding as you.”
“No can do, but you can tell em’ yourself. Alright men, get on down here!”
In all my years I’d never had to explain myself to anyone up until that point. I guess that day my number was up but I never knew just how understanding people, normal people could be. I’d always lived around the supernatural in Paris, didn’t interact much with the normal people I saw in the streets every day, I didn’t have to. I’d always assumed there was a reason for that but in the moment I realized there wasn’t, not really. I’d just avoided normal people because I feared what they’d think if it came out that I wasn’t like them.
Of course There were some of the men that objected to… what I was. Most of them took after Marsh though. They didn’t really care what I was, I’d proven to them I was a good person and thats all that mattered. I just wish they’d been right about me back then because the truth was I still hadn’t learned to care, not really. Even the ones who objected came around eventually and that night Marsh finally came clean to me about why exactly he was so accepting.
According to him he’d always assumed there was more out there, things beyond human that lived on the fringes of society. Even he always thought he sounded crazy. I was the proof he needed to convince himself he wasn’t. Marsh also told me what we were really doing with the scientists. Both Frank and Stein researched the supernatural, their projects were as secret as secret could be. Marsh’s interests and theories, as personal as he tried to keep them showed up in his file somewhere. The higher ups had handpicked him for this mission because of it. The official story was that Frank had been captured but in reality he defected to further his own research with a like minded individual. Our mission was really to force Frank back into the fold and take Stein along with him.
The more he talked the more I could tell his heart was fully committed to this mission and the final assault tomorrow. I’d never seen someone so… alive. In my extremely long life I don’t think Id ever felt that kind of conviction myself. So I promised him I’d have his back tomorrow no matter what.
Morning broke and with it our assault began. Intel on the German defenses was shoddy at best but we never expected what we’d actually run into. At least three times our number acted as guards so a distraction was in order to give us a window of entry. A few of the men would handle the distraction “however they saw fit” to quote Marsh. Then Marsh and I would make our way into the compound itself and the rest of the platoon would cover us.
For what its worth most of the plan went off without a hitch. A tremendous explosion signaled Marsh and I to press the advantage and rush the confused soldiers that lay in front of us. Some actually turned and ran from me, apparently word of my stunt in the trenches yesterday had spread quickly. The rest of the platoon followed behind us but then our luck ran out with the roar of an engine.
An honest to god panzer tank rolled out of a tunnel we hadn’t seen that ran under the compound and turned its barrel towards us. I almost didn’t hear the blast from how slow time seemed to move. But move it did as the explosion of the shell’s impact scattered bodies left and right. The shell impacted behind us but the sheer force of the blast threw Marsh and I to the ground, knocking us unconscious.
When I slowly came to my eyes couldn’t believe what I was seeing. A man dressed in red priestly robes with a matching red top hat was walking between the bodies. When he approached one that groaned out with agony he’d kneel down and whisper things I couldn’t hear to them, after that he’d snap his fingers. sometimes the person he was talking with would disappear other times they would fall silent and sometimes it didn’t appear that anything happened at all.
Just the sight of the man terrified me and I wasn’t sure why. It was an instinctual reaction, the second I lay eyes on him I froze up and ice cold fear crept its way up my spine. When people accuse me of being the devil this man is who I think of. Even today I’m not sure what it is he does or why. What I do know is that he never looks the same. I’ve seen him appear as male, female, even as an animal on a few occasions but I can always tell. The second I’m near him no matter what he looks like the same old feeling comes over me.
Once my vision had finally focused in on the man he seemed to notice without ever looking at me. I blinked and suddenly he was there, kneeling over me.
“Would you like to live.”
He rasped down at me with a voice that seemed to boom around me no matter how quiet it must’ve actually been. I felt like a child again, staring at Archer for the first time. I’d never really had to fear death before but here I was, sure I was about to meet my end right here. In all honestly I wasn’t injured all that bad, I probably could’ve survived with or without this man help. But something told me that if I said no he’d make sure I would die right here.
“Ye…y… yes”
I stuttered out, barley able to form the words through the pain that stabbed throughout my body.
“You will be my instrument for one night at a time of me choosing.”
The man replied. I stayed silent as I stared into his eyes, trying to determine if the sunglasses he wore were tinted or if his eyes really did burn with an infernal red light. The man cocked his head as if waiting for a response to his question. I’m not sure if question was the right word though, there wasn’t much of a choice for me.
Looking back there was always a choice, maybe I could’ve survived on my own merits, found another way. In the years to come I’d wish I just said no, even if it would’ve cost me my life. But thats not what happened. I nodded and the deal maker snapped his fingers. As soon as he had dark clouds flooded the sky and blocked out the sun, allowing my body to begin repairing itself. The man moved on to where Marsh’s body lay and probably made him the same deal as I felt my body healing. Despite that, my consciousness faded again as I strained to try and hear what the man would say to Marsh.
We never actually discussed the man at all. Not then and not in the years since. Maybe that was all an unspoken part of Marsh’s deal. Maybe both of us just wished that man was nothing more than a waking dream, a vivid hallucination. Whatever the case neither of us ever mentioned that man to each other.
The next time I woke up I was chained to a table next to Marsh. We had been captured and brought before the very scientists we were here to apprehend. There were guards around but they all seemed to be waiting for some kind of order. I was certainly surprised when that order came in perfect English, even more surprised when the order was to let us down so we could talk.
Frank and Stein ended up being quite reasonable people. The two let us stay in relative comfort in the compound as long as we agreed to stay and leave them to their work. That was all the convincing it took for me. I understand that the men I’d served with were all dead and that these two were in some way responsible. Maybe that should’ve bothered me more, today it certainly would’ve. Back then I didn’t think the same way, they accepted me for what I was but only briefly, only out of respect for Marsh. What did the lives of people I’d known for so short a time really matter? Writing this now just makes me realize how cold I was before, I didn’t care for anything beyond myself. I’d made no efforts to find Belle since we were separated and how long had I known her, 100 years, more? I may have pretended I cared but when push came to shove I simply tried to make sure I survived.
Marsh wasn’t as cold as me, in fact he almost immediately reached for where his pistol should’ve been when he was unchained. It took Frank, Stein, and myself weeks to convince him that helping would be the right decision. He didn’t like it at first but little by little I think the scientists grew on him. The guards I’d seen our first day here seemed to thin out the longer we stayed. Wether that was a gesture of trust or simply because they were needed for more important duties I don’t know but it certainly eased Marsh’s mind.
I merely observed the scientists most of the time until Stein asked me for a sample of my blood. It didn’t surprise me that he knew what I was but for obvious reasons I was hesitant to give it to him, especially considering what I’d seen so called doctors do with vampire blood. Eventually he wore me down and I gave let him take a sample just to shut him up. After that I became more involved in their research though not by choice. They had me showcasing my abilities and tested the effects of sunlight on my blood. On a few rare occasions Stein even injected it into other prisoners that were brought in, something I put a stop to very quickly. T
hat sample of blood is why Frank and Stein are still around today. Somehow they managed to isolate whatever part of my DNA allows me to age so much slower than a normal person. They took that and spliced it into their own DNA against my recommendations. The crazy thing was it actually worked. Sure they had a newfound appreciation for rare steaks but beyond that I didn’t notice any of the effects that combining vampire DNA with your own would usually have.
As Marsh and I assisted the scientist’s research however we could we both came to the realization that they needed each other to function. Stein lacked a moral compass and was prone to suggest unethical or risky procedures, sometimes going so far as to carry them out without informing Frank. Frank on the other hand preferred caution in everything he did and sometimes I noticed him personally taking and shredding requests Stein had written for test subjects, hazardous materials, or samples from supernatural entities. The two kept a very delicate dance of checks and balances. Stein ever the daring mad scientist and Frank always playing the role of overly cautious genius.
Marsh and Frank got along extremely well near the end. The two would be up at all hours of the night as Frank explained what kind of things really existed in the world. Marsh always shared these ideas of a world where the supernatural and the normal could live together and I think Frank shared that vision. It wasn’t possible, still isn’t but treating the supernatural as something other than monsters couldn’t possibly be a bad thing. I think thats where the idea of the Bureau of Supernatural Affairs really came from, those talks Marsh had with anyone who would listen.
Overtime one of our favorite conversations was what we would do when the war was over and we could leave this compound. Stein wasn’t sure he would, if his research wasn’t going to a man who’d simply use it to cause more conflict he wouldn’t mind staying. Frank wanted to return home, if that was even possible and he asked if Stein would join him. Those two had also become close friends through our months in the lab. That checks and balances relationship they had made them basically inseparable. Marsh’s answer surprised me though, he said he wanted to get out of the military and start a program, something to help the supernatural live closer to normal lives. At least keep tabs on them so that the quality of their lives might improve. I was stunned, I couldn’t believe he’d throw his career away just to chase this pipe dream of his. I didn’t even know Marsh was concerned with that kind of thing. I didn’t have an answer of my own so I said I’d join Marsh and help with this program idea of his. Actually, even Frank and Stein seemed to agree with Marsh’s way of thinking. Little did we know the war would end less than a month after our talk and we’d all get the chance to actually put Marsh’s little idea to the test.
Once the Americans had come and discovered the compound pretty much abandoned aside from us we were all taken prisoner and shipped back to America. We were all interrogated and they either heard what they wanted to hear, or decided anyone we’d talk to about our experiences would assume we were just crazy. We were released back into society under constant surveillance. They even gave us a sizable home in D.C., it was certainly bugged to its core but thats exactly what we wanted.
Through the next year we used Frank and Steins knowledge and my supernatural nature to track down entities all over the country. We made sure that everything was discussed and planned out in the house. That way however was listening knew exactly what we were doing and how successful it was. It wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows though, some entities would rather we didn’t know about them. Others were naturally aggressive but some we were actually able to help.
Our escapades as a group of four didn’t last much past the first year. Mostly because our master plan of using the bugs worked perfectly. Ol’ uncle Sam had been listening in and wanted his chance at calling the shots but it meant we became a legitimate organization, the BSA. Technically the acronym was already taken but no one ever complained and Marsh never came up with anything better.
We spent 4 years doing everything we could to improve the lives of supernatural beings everywhere. Not every one of our endeavors was a success but we did some good in the world. One such project was blood banks for vampires. While the blood that gets donated is used for transfusions and the like some was put into cold storage for the BSA. That got distributed to vampires who had come to an agreement with us to stop hunting humans for blood. Some vampires were even selected for jobs at these blood banks, under the supervision of BSA agents of course.
The more human supernaturals like werewolves, vampires, and succubi even used us to find jobs in the world. We made in roads for the supernatural in daily life because of it. Werewolves would use their strength for government construction. Vampire’s long lives made them excellent archivists or history teachers because they actually been there for those events. A succubus’s ability to understand and control someones emotions and reactions made them excellent therapists and conflict deescalation specialists. Those are just some of the fields we managed to get the supernatural involved in. While they usually had to hide their natural they were wildly successful.
Everything went well until that fourth year when I first met Baelen. He was headstrong from the beginning, the powers that be were grooming him for leadership. He was everything they wanted, he followed orders and didn’t question things to much. In short, he was the perfect solution to the inconvenience the four of us caused running the organization as we saw fit. But baleen had a mean streak, he didn’t want to protect the supernatural so much as he wanted to put them in their place. Unfortunately a lot of the research we provided had scared pretty much everyone above us who had never even entertained the idea of the supernatural until now. That meant Baelen’s ideas of monitoring and segregating the supernatural population were popular. So popular that suggesting culling their numbers to keep them in check and under the thumb of the BSA was an idea they actually entertained. That sentiment caught on and our orders became more and more militant.
Every time we disregarded them to do things the way we had envisioned the consequence grew steeper. Eventually Frank, Stein, Marsh, and I just couldn’t stand to see what our BSA had become so we left. We couldn’t do anything else to stop what was coming from the inside, no point in going down with the ship.
After that Baelen quickly ended up heading the whole operation. He still took orders directly from government officials and when the BSA became part of homeland security it became Chimera division. Why they chose such a stupid name I’ll never know but the organization was a shadow of its former self. Before we looked out for the supernatural, tried to help. Under Baelen Chimera just exists to monitor the supernatural and “correct” any issues uncle Sam decides to have with them. They’re glorified enforcers that don’t give a damn how the supernatural actually have it. That’s not to say some good people don’t work for them, people like Belle and even Marsh’s own daughter as far as I’m aware.
It sickens me to think I was a part of it though, for all the good we did maybe it would’ve been better if Johnson Marsh’s pipe dream would’ve stayed just that. I can do a lot but I can’t change the past so I guess we’ll never know. A while ago I heard that something had happened in a little nowhere town out in New Mexico. Pretty much dropped off the face of the Earth. The only reason I even heard about it was through Belle’s letters. Apparently Chimera had to do some huge cover up job and decided it was better if the town just never existed. Maybe I should go myself and see if I can’t piece what happened together. Could be that someone else out there has it in for Chimera and is a whole lot more direct about it than me. I’m just imaging it was some runaway experiment Frank and Stein got up to. I wonder where those two ended up, I’ll have to check up on them sometime. This journal writing is digging up a lot of memories for me but thats probably a good thing. Write them down before I forget again. I think that’ll be all for today then, why do I keep addressing these like someone’s reading them? Not much point to that is there?

Previous Entry
Writing these things has made me realize how different I sound these days. Back when all this started I’m not sure I even spoke English and I certainly didn’t speak like I do now but to be honest, I don’t remember. Trying to recall things to write has made me realize exactly how many little things I’ve forgotten over the years. The sights, the sounds, all those fade into the background of most events.
Even something as visceral as Archer’s basement still takes me a while to recall clearly. I wonder if it’s more than just my long life, we do age after all. I mentioned before that sunlight is not deadly to vampires like myself but very unpleasant, that and it makes us more normal. In the sun I won’t be as strong as I would be in the dark and by my assessment I age in the sun as well. Not any faster than a normal person but I do age, its why I don’t still look like that little boy stuck in Paris anymore.
I did spend quite some time in Paris before I left or rather, escaped. I’m not sure I ever would have left if not for the war. I didn’t have many friends there save for other… I’m not sure what to call them… entities? Whatever you want to cal it I had some friends in the more supernatural parts of the city. A vampire named Belle had become a sort of mother figure to me over the years spent there.
I met her by chance one night as I sated myself in an alley. I was ready to fight but she just laughed and flashed her own fangs at me, ridiculing me for being so careless. It was under her wing where I learned everything I know now about vampires. It’s where I realized not all vampires endure sunlight as well as I do, if anything that one trait is what’s most unique about me according to her. But thats not the story I want to tell on these pages tonight. I want to tell the story of lieutenant Marsh and the real beginnings of the organization that would become Chimera.
When war came to Paris that summer I was unprepared. I never expected the war to spiral out of hand so quickly or for it to force me out of my home. I was with Belle and a few more of her friends whose names escape me waiting out the worst of it and hoping things would blow over in the city soon. Obviously we were completely misguided, it was that sense of invulnerability again just the same as when I was a boy. The world was our playground and nothing could hurt us. It didn’t help that in some ways I really was invulnerable and it went straight to my head.
Only flashes of my memory from that day remain. I remember the nazi soldier kicking in the door and firing at Belle’s friends. I remember the screaming that abruptly ended in a single gunshot. I remember the trail of blood leading to her friends body where it lay staked to the ground in the sun. We heal fast, not instantly but much faster than a human. Put us in sunlight though, and we’re just as fragile as a normal person. It was the first time I’d seen someone with abilities like ours die and it made me feel mortal again for the first time in decades.
The rest of the day is a disjointed blur. Belle and I fled the city, I blank out on the specifics of it but we made it out with some difficulty. After that we hunkered down for the night in a rickety old shack. I remember wanting to push on through the day but Belle protested, she didn’t deal with the sun as well as I did. When night finally fell we fled to the coast and managed to catch a ship heading towards the United States.
The trip was unpleasant to say the least, neither of us made good stowaways. We weren’t living life in the lap of luxury before by any means but we lived comfortably. This was a far cry from what we were used to in Paris and the welcome we received was even worse. Apparently fleeing for your own survival is a crime, both of us were separated and sent to prison on our arrival to the states for stowing away on the ship.
That was the last time I ever saw Belle, I get letters from her every now and then but I haven’t seen her in person since. She does well for herself, works in D.C. as a sort of handler for the supernatural. Regrettably she does work with Chimera, says they have the best interests at heart for the supernatural but she doesn’t see what I see out here. She doesn’t know the part I played in its creation, what it really stood for in the beginning. Chimera tends to kill first these days rather than actually try to help or give the supernatural some kind of place in the world. I think thats why I haven’t been to visit her, I just don’t want to argue with a friend as old as her. Funnily enough I don’t think anyone knows she’s a vampire. I doubt they’d take that very well, she’d probably lose her position. They must have suspicions though because theres no way she’d be able to get letters to me without Baelen knowing about it. Every few months they keep showing up though and I always make sure to write her back.
Anyways I’m getting off topic, back to my story. I was in prison for months until an offer came my way, serve the rest of my sentence or enlist in the army and be a free man when I came back, if I came back. Of course I took the offer, I didn’t realize how suspicious that deal sounded at the time but it actually played out exactly as they said. I also didn’t have much of a choice in the matter either. It was hard to get my hands on any blood when I was almost constantly under watch and I could feel the effects it was having on me. I figured it would be best to get a change of scenery.
The next week I was off to training then not long after, we shipped out to the trenches and met the commander of the platoon I’d been assigned to. That’s the first time I met Lieutenant Johnson Marsh and what a man he was. That first day I was convinced I’d never see a smile ever again, the trenches were a horrible depressing place. But there Marsh was, laughing and smiling and just generally enjoying life with the rest of the platoon. He was either crazy or stupid, thats what my first thoughts about him were. I remember those clearly even today but I couldn’t have been more wrong. If anything he may have turned out to be one of the smartest men I ever knew.
The first few weeks were spent holding our position from the germans. It was brutal but I found I was a decent shot with the rifle I was given. Marsh on the other hand spent those weeks barking orders at us and keeping us in line. He never used a rifle like most of the soldiers used. Instead he kept a Beretta m9 with him at all times. That weapon was the only one I ever saw him use. I remember the name only because he was so found of explaining everything there was to know about the gun to me whenever I questioned him about it. You could immediately recognize the pistol as his by its strange grip. One side of it had a picture of an idyllic scene of a manor house in the middle of a sprawling field. The other had a painting of a woman, his wife I’d guess but he never actually told me if that was there case. He seemed to spend the nights staring with longing at each side of the artistic grip.
I’d never really had a family, even with Belle I’d always felt like I was a bit of an outsider. There was so much I didn’t know about how normal people lived. Even though I’d had friends in Paris we were always kind of hidden away in our own personal corner. There was this separation between us and normal life, even between the other supernaturals in the area.
Here I felt like I was part of something though. Sure I was still lost but so was everyone else, we could be lost together and Marsh would always set us straight in the end. There was something about the man, some piece of him that just understood what we were all going through. He expected a lot from us but he was never unreasonable and several times even argued with command on our behalf when ridiculous orders came our way. I actually wanted to serve with him. The rest of the platoon wasn’t bad but they’d all been given the same deal as me. They were all just there to get out of prison. I’m still not sure what Marsh’s story was, he always kept that to himself but any of us would’ve taken a bullet for that man.
Our first real assignment came maybe three months into my period of indentured service. Our platoon was tasked with rescuing a captured American scientist and capturing a German scientist. The scientists in question were Frank Smith and Stein Hoffman and no, the irony of those names is not lost on me, fits the two of them though. I’m sure doctor Frankenstein wishes he was successful as those two. But before those orders could be acted on we had to overtake a German trench surrounding the compound they were staying in.
That fight was bloody and we lost several good men in the chaos. At one point a trench gun was shoved into my arms and I launched myself into the German trench. I wouldn’t be surprised if ghost stories are still passed around of what I did that day. After I made my way over and into the German trench I lashed out with all I had. Moving with superhuman speed and lashing out with both the bayonet affixed to my gun and my fangs, I fell upon the Germans. They stood little chance as I tore into them and all by my lonesome I ensured we’d face no more resistance.
Marsh was the first over into the now silent trench, I’m glad it was him because I’m not sure anyone else would’ve understood like him. I was holding the German officer to the trench wall, fangs buried in his neck as I fed when I heard footsteps behind me. I dropped him and turned to see Marsh staring questioningly at me. I must’ve been a sight to see, blood dripping from my mouth and covering my bullet torn uniform. Marsh steadied himself for a moment and shouted back to the rest of the platoon,
“Boys hold up a second! Just get down and stay up there a minute won’tcha!”
All of a sudden he took a step forward and a well mannered grin took its usual place on his lips.
“Though You didn’t care for sauerkraut J.?”
The joke stunned me, I fully expected him to shoot me then and there, put me down like the abomination I must’ve looked like to him.
“Lieutenant I…”
But Marsh raised his hands to cut me off.
“Command’d probably want me to shoot’cha, hell maybe I aught’a but I don’t think it’d be right. You seem decent, little odd sure but you’ve got heart, I see it in the way you look out for the boys. Plus I always figured there was some’n off about you. The way you stay out’a the light always seem a little faster and stronger than anyone got the right to be just didn’t figure it’d be…. That.”
Marsh told me pointing to the punctures in the officers neck.
“Thank you lieutenant, Could we keep this between us though sir?”
“Drop the formalities J. Jesus! We’re all friends here.”
“I just don’t want the others to know, they may not be as understanding as you.”
“No can do, but you can tell em’ yourself. Alright men, get on down here!”
In all my years I’d never had to explain myself to anyone up until that point. I guess that day my number was up but I never knew just how understanding people, normal people could be. I’d always lived around the supernatural in Paris, didn’t interact much with the normal people I saw in the streets every day, I didn’t have to. I’d always assumed there was a reason for that but in the moment I realized there wasn’t, not really. I’d just avoided normal people because I feared what they’d think if it came out that I wasn’t like them.
Of course There were some of the men that objected to… what I was. Most of them took after Marsh though. They didn’t really care what I was, I’d proven to them I was a good person and thats all that mattered. I just wish they’d been right about me back then because the truth was I still hadn’t learned to care, not really. Even the ones who objected came around eventually and that night Marsh finally came clean to me about why exactly he was so accepting.
According to him he’d always assumed there was more out there, things beyond human that lived on the fringes of society. Even he always thought he sounded crazy. I was the proof he needed to convince himself he wasn’t. Marsh also told me what we were really doing with the scientists. Both Frank and Stein researched the supernatural, their projects were as secret as secret could be. Marsh’s interests and theories, as personal as he tried to keep them showed up in his file somewhere. The higher ups had handpicked him for this mission because of it. The official story was that Frank had been captured but in reality he defected to further his own research with a like minded individual. Our mission was really to force Frank back into the fold and take Stein along with him.
The more he talked the more I could tell his heart was fully committed to this mission and the final assault tomorrow. I’d never seen someone so… alive. In my extremely long life I don’t think Id ever felt that kind of conviction myself. So I promised him I’d have his back tomorrow no matter what.
Morning broke and with it our assault began. Intel on the German defenses was shoddy at best but we never expected what we’d actually run into. At least three times our number acted as guards so a distraction was in order to give us a window of entry. A few of the men would handle the distraction “however they saw fit” to quote Marsh. Then Marsh and I would make our way into the compound itself and the rest of the platoon would cover us.
For what its worth most of the plan went off without a hitch. A tremendous explosion signaled Marsh and I to press the advantage and rush the confused soldiers that lay in front of us. Some actually turned and ran from me, apparently word of my stunt in the trenches yesterday had spread quickly. The rest of the platoon followed behind us but then our luck ran out with the roar of an engine.
An honest to god panzer tank rolled out of a tunnel we hadn’t seen that ran under the compound and turned its barrel towards us. I almost didn’t hear the blast from how slow time seemed to move. But move it did as the explosion of the shell’s impact scattered bodies left and right. The shell impacted behind us but the sheer force of the blast threw Marsh and I to the ground, knocking us unconscious.
When I slowly came to my eyes couldn’t believe what I was seeing. A man dressed in red priestly robes with a matching red top hat was walking between the bodies. When he approached one that groaned out with agony he’d kneel down and whisper things I couldn’t hear to them, after that he’d snap his fingers. sometimes the person he was talking with would disappear other times they would fall silent and sometimes it didn’t appear that anything happened at all.
Just the sight of the man terrified me and I wasn’t sure why. It was an instinctual reaction, the second I lay eyes on him I froze up and ice cold fear crept its way up my spine. When people accuse me of being the devil this man is who I think of. Even today I’m not sure what it is he does or why. What I do know is that he never looks the same. I’ve seen him appear as male, female, even as an animal on a few occasions but I can always tell. The second I’m near him no matter what he looks like the same old feeling comes over me.
Once my vision had finally focused in on the man he seemed to notice without ever looking at me. I blinked and suddenly he was there, kneeling over me.
“Would you like to live.”
He rasped down at me with a voice that seemed to boom around me no matter how quiet it must’ve actually been. I felt like a child again, staring at Archer for the first time. I’d never really had to fear death before but here I was, sure I was about to meet my end right here. In all honestly I wasn’t injured all that bad, I probably could’ve survived with or without this man help. But something told me that if I said no he’d make sure I would die right here.
“Ye…y… yes”
I stuttered out, barley able to form the words through the pain that stabbed throughout my body.
“You will be my instrument for one night at a time of me choosing.”
The man replied. I stayed silent as I stared into his eyes, trying to determine if the sunglasses he wore were tinted or if his eyes really did burn with an infernal red light. The man cocked his head as if waiting for a response to his question. I’m not sure if question was the right word though, there wasn’t much of a choice for me.
Looking back there was always a choice, maybe I could’ve survived on my own merits, found another way. In the years to come I’d wish I just said no, even if it would’ve cost me my life. But thats not what happened. I nodded and the deal maker snapped his fingers. As soon as he had dark clouds flooded the sky and blocked out the sun, allowing my body to begin repairing itself. The man moved on to where Marsh’s body lay and probably made him the same deal as I felt my body healing. Despite that, my consciousness faded again as I strained to try and hear what the man would say to Marsh.
We never actually discussed the man at all. Not then and not in the years since. Maybe that was all an unspoken part of Marsh’s deal. Maybe both of us just wished that man was nothing more than a waking dream, a vivid hallucination. Whatever the case neither of us ever mentioned that man to each other.
The next time I woke up I was chained to a table next to Marsh. We had been captured and brought before the very scientists we were here to apprehend. There were guards around but they all seemed to be waiting for some kind of order. I was certainly surprised when that order came in perfect English, even more surprised when the order was to let us down so we could talk.
Frank and Stein ended up being quite reasonable people. The two let us stay in relative comfort in the compound as long as we agreed to stay and leave them to their work. That was all the convincing it took for me. I understand that the men I’d served with were all dead and that these two were in some way responsible. Maybe that should’ve bothered me more, today it certainly would’ve. Back then I didn’t think the same way, they accepted me for what I was but only briefly, only out of respect for Marsh. What did the lives of people I’d known for so short a time really matter? Writing this now just makes me realize how cold I was before, I didn’t care for anything beyond myself. I’d made no efforts to find Belle since we were separated and how long had I known her, 100 years, more? I may have pretended I cared but when push came to shove I simply tried to make sure I survived.
Marsh wasn’t as cold as me, in fact he almost immediately reached for where his pistol should’ve been when he was unchained. It took Frank, Stein, and myself weeks to convince him that helping would be the right decision. He didn’t like it at first but little by little I think the scientists grew on him. The guards I’d seen our first day here seemed to thin out the longer we stayed. Wether that was a gesture of trust or simply because they were needed for more important duties I don’t know but it certainly eased Marsh’s mind.
I merely observed the scientists most of the time until Stein asked me for a sample of my blood. It didn’t surprise me that he knew what I was but for obvious reasons I was hesitant to give it to him, especially considering what I’d seen so called doctors do with vampire blood. Eventually he wore me down and I gave let him take a sample just to shut him up. After that I became more involved in their research though not by choice. They had me showcasing my abilities and tested the effects of sunlight on my blood. On a few rare occasions Stein even injected it into other prisoners that were brought in, something I put a stop to very quickly. T
hat sample of blood is why Frank and Stein are still around today. Somehow they managed to isolate whatever part of my DNA allows me to age so much slower than a normal person. They took that and spliced it into their own DNA against my recommendations. The crazy thing was it actually worked. Sure they had a newfound appreciation for rare steaks but beyond that I didn’t notice any of the effects that combining vampire DNA with your own would usually have.
As Marsh and I assisted the scientist’s research however we could we both came to the realization that they needed each other to function. Stein lacked a moral compass and was prone to suggest unethical or risky procedures, sometimes going so far as to carry them out without informing Frank. Frank on the other hand preferred caution in everything he did and sometimes I noticed him personally taking and shredding requests Stein had written for test subjects, hazardous materials, or samples from supernatural entities. The two kept a very delicate dance of checks and balances. Stein ever the daring mad scientist and Frank always playing the role of overly cautious genius.
Marsh and Frank got along extremely well near the end. The two would be up at all hours of the night as Frank explained what kind of things really existed in the world. Marsh always shared these ideas of a world where the supernatural and the normal could live together and I think Frank shared that vision. It wasn’t possible, still isn’t but treating the supernatural as something other than monsters couldn’t possibly be a bad thing. I think thats where the idea of the Bureau of Supernatural Affairs really came from, those talks Marsh had with anyone who would listen.
Overtime one of our favorite conversations was what we would do when the war was over and we could leave this compound. Stein wasn’t sure he would, if his research wasn’t going to a man who’d simply use it to cause more conflict he wouldn’t mind staying. Frank wanted to return home, if that was even possible and he asked if Stein would join him. Those two had also become close friends through our months in the lab. That checks and balances relationship they had made them basically inseparable. Marsh’s answer surprised me though, he said he wanted to get out of the military and start a program, something to help the supernatural live closer to normal lives. At least keep tabs on them so that the quality of their lives might improve. I was stunned, I couldn’t believe he’d throw his career away just to chase this pipe dream of his. I didn’t even know Marsh was concerned with that kind of thing. I didn’t have an answer of my own so I said I’d join Marsh and help with this program idea of his. Actually, even Frank and Stein seemed to agree with Marsh’s way of thinking. Little did we know the war would end less than a month after our talk and we’d all get the chance to actually put Marsh’s little idea to the test.
Once the Americans had come and discovered the compound pretty much abandoned aside from us we were all taken prisoner and shipped back to America. We were all interrogated and they either heard what they wanted to hear, or decided anyone we’d talk to about our experiences would assume we were just crazy. We were released back into society under constant surveillance. They even gave us a sizable home in D.C., it was certainly bugged to its core but thats exactly what we wanted.
Through the next year we used Frank and Steins knowledge and my supernatural nature to track down entities all over the country. We made sure that everything was discussed and planned out in the house. That way however was listening knew exactly what we were doing and how successful it was. It wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows though, some entities would rather we didn’t know about them. Others were naturally aggressive but some we were actually able to help.
Our escapades as a group of four didn’t last much past the first year. Mostly because our master plan of using the bugs worked perfectly. Ol’ uncle Sam had been listening in and wanted his chance at calling the shots but it meant we became a legitimate organization, the BSA. Technically the acronym was already taken but no one ever complained and Marsh never came up with anything better.
We spent 4 years doing everything we could to improve the lives of supernatural beings everywhere. Not every one of our endeavors was a success but we did some good in the world. One such project was blood banks for vampires. While the blood that gets donated is used for transfusions and the like some was put into cold storage for the BSA. That got distributed to vampires who had come to an agreement with us to stop hunting humans for blood. Some vampires were even selected for jobs at these blood banks, under the supervision of BSA agents of course.
The more human supernaturals like werewolves, vampires, and succubi even used us to find jobs in the world. We made in roads for the supernatural in daily life because of it. Werewolves would use their strength for government construction. Vampire’s long lives made them excellent archivists or history teachers because they actually been there for those events. A succubus’s ability to understand and control someones emotions and reactions made them excellent therapists and conflict deescalation specialists. Those are just some of the fields we managed to get the supernatural involved in. While they usually had to hide their natural they were wildly successful.
Everything went well until that fourth year when I first met Baelen. He was headstrong from the beginning, the powers that be were grooming him for leadership. He was everything they wanted, he followed orders and didn’t question things to much. In short, he was the perfect solution to the inconvenience the four of us caused running the organization as we saw fit. But baleen had a mean streak, he didn’t want to protect the supernatural so much as he wanted to put them in their place. Unfortunately a lot of the research we provided had scared pretty much everyone above us who had never even entertained the idea of the supernatural until now. That meant Baelen’s ideas of monitoring and segregating the supernatural population were popular. So popular that suggesting culling their numbers to keep them in check and under the thumb of the BSA was an idea they actually entertained. That sentiment caught on and our orders became more and more militant.
Every time we disregarded them to do things the way we had envisioned the consequence grew steeper. Eventually Frank, Stein, Marsh, and I just couldn’t stand to see what our BSA had become so we left. We couldn’t do anything else to stop what was coming from the inside, no point in going down with the ship.
After that Baelen quickly ended up heading the whole operation. He still took orders directly from government officials and when the BSA became part of homeland security it became Chimera division. Why they chose such a stupid name I’ll never know but the organization was a shadow of its former self. Before we looked out for the supernatural, tried to help. Under Baelen Chimera just exists to monitor the supernatural and “correct” any issues uncle Sam decides to have with them. They’re glorified enforcers that don’t give a damn how the supernatural actually have it. That’s not to say some good people don’t work for them, people like Belle and even Marsh’s own daughter as far as I’m aware.
It sickens me to think I was a part of it though, for all the good we did maybe it would’ve been better if Johnson Marsh’s pipe dream would’ve stayed just that. I can do a lot but I can’t change the past so I guess we’ll never know. A while ago I heard that something had happened in a little nowhere town out in New Mexico. Pretty much dropped off the face of the Earth. The only reason I even heard about it was through Belle’s letters. Apparently Chimera had to do some huge cover up job and decided it was better if the town just never existed. Maybe I should go myself and see if I can’t piece what happened together. Could be that someone else out there has it in for Chimera and is a whole lot more direct about it than me. I’m just imaging it was some runaway experiment Frank and Stein got up to. I wonder where those two ended up, I’ll have to check up on them sometime. This journal writing is digging up a lot of memories for me but thats probably a good thing. Write them down before I forget again. I think that’ll be all for today then, why do I keep addressing these like someone’s reading them? Not much point to that is there?

Company contesting has paper trail for performance
I have to give a testimony on why I was fired. The company built a paper trial regarding policy's and written warnings, ECT. I was basically laid off because the store under performed last year. New district (our area manager who got demoted last year) manager states were downsizing and labor will decrease. We ran a skeleton crew and when people called out, the supervisors (me) are responsible for the same work load with 3 people on a 5 person job. Our manager still stated we are over on labor ever week even with call outs, and her job is at risk because of underperforming with skeleton crew. I never intended in breaking any policy's. When I got my original written warning it was for a bad flowers in freshness. My second was for leaving a freeze door open on a shift I wasn't running, and i was sent home early that new years. They still told me I was responsible 100% for freshness and everyone gets a freshness warning to show we have to be vigilant in making sure everything is 100%. The second they said it's because we are both supervisors even if I left early it's a temp chain violation and it's a major issue on both of us. I got my final for something that happened 1 1/2 months before and I couldn't even recall even working that specific day. I got my yearly review which said I was doing much better and everything was going well but I still received a poor review due to being written up so much and being on my final. My boss kept saying she tried to talk to the Dsm, but he was getting rid of me. I useu PTO hrs as requested and then a week later after a long shift I was told that was my last day. I filed for unemployment and they contesting..
This is the email I received from dol.
The initial statement you provided is showing as complete, however, possibly due to a technical issue, it can’t be viewed. Please provide a statement regarding why you were terminated. You chose Unsatisfactory Work Performance as the reason for separation. Do you feel you tried your best to do the job? Did you violate a policy? Receive written or verbal warnings?
The employer stated performance was the reason for separation as well. They provided copies of warnings and relevant policy. The final Disciplinary Form statement is provided below for reference.

[ Notice: Not my article. Link: https://4womaninthewilderness.blogspot.com/2012/08/here-is-answer-to-comment-that-was-left.html ]
~COMMENT:~ Hello Pearl! I can only thank Jah that i found you! After seventeen years as a JW, i found myself so disturbed and distraught (i.e., sighing and groaning) over what was going on that i just couldn't bring myself to attend the meetings anymore. Prior to my departure, i discerned that much of the Society's liturature was laced with poison so i completely stopped reading any of it and began studying the scriptures only. What a difference that made! While i secretly never agreed with some of the Governing Body's official doctrines, policies and procedures (i viewed them as unscriptural, even idolatrous in some cases), when i realized that they couldn't possibly be the "faithful and discreet slave" (that is a future designation and only Jah/Jesus appoint these individuals, not themselves), I got the last bit of courage needed to finally leave and begin searching. Eventually i found your blog and now check it nearly everyday for any new information. A very close friend of mine who has also left after nearly twenty years as a JW (she just couldn't deal with it emotionally/mentally anymore) also reads your blogs and is as electrified as I am to be finally experiencing the true meaning of the "light getting brighter"!
So here's my question: How do we sound the warning that you mentioned? Since it's likely that no one on the inside will listen, what good will it do? Besides, you said yourself that a Christian is not obligated to sow seed among thorns. So while I have the desire to help others get out of symbolic Jerusalem, I do not know how to go about it nor do i see any point in it. Simply mentioning that i was no longer attending meetings (besides making a brief comment about the hypocrisy in the congregation) was enough for one person --someone i considered a good friend previously--to immediately cease all association with me. Thus, even hinting at the idea that the Organization is not all that its cracked up to be will send 99.9% of 'em running with their thumbs in their ears! Please advise. Thank You!
~REPLY:~ I also, am greatly relieved to hear that you have found the truth, which I myself am so grateful to YHVH's spirit for. There are those who read it and recognize none of the truth of the cited scriptures...and then there are expressions like yours, which reveal eyes and ears that are open, and a consciousness of their spiritual poverty (Matt.5:3). This need is keen during this spiritual famine and drought (Amos 8:11; Rev.6:6; 18:8; 12:14)...yet the spiritual pestilence that strikes others with blindness and an inability to hear, keeps them sick and unaware of their dire need (Matt.13:15; Rev.3:17; 6:8). The senseless are the ~great~ ~majority~ (Matt.7:13,14; Luke 13:23,24; Matt.24:22; Ps.94:17,5,8,12,13,14,16,18,20,22,23,20, 21; Rev.20:9,7,8,9; 13:15; 11:7; 6:9,11). So to hear that my labors, (and that of other faithful) are reaching some, is of great refreshment, and relief to my grief (Matt.10:42).
The Bible reads; "But God also rescued Lot out of Sodom because he was a righteous man who was sick of the shameful immorality of the wicked people around him. Yes, Lot was a righteous man who was tormented in his soul by the wickedness he saw and heard day after day. So you see, the Lord knows how to rescue godly people from their trials, even while keeping the wicked under punishment until the day of final judgment." 2Pet. 2:7-9 (Eze.9:4)
"The eyes of the Lord search the whole earth in order to strengthen those whose hearts are fully committed to him." 2Chron. 16:9 A
We see from these three scriptures that Yhwh will not abandon those whose heart is exclusively devoted to Him. He delivers them by His strength (2Chron. 16:9). His Spirit can bring them to the truth (John 6:44; 14:6) as He does for each faithful anointed one, as well as all those who may accept the "fine fruit" the faithful witnesses offer (Matt.10:40,41,42; Matt.7:20; Rev.11:3,4).
Regarding your question, Yhwh has begun to make me aware of what I must do, as well as how to do it. You are right that God's "Land" must be warned (Jer.25:30,29; Rev.2:20; 13:14). It is true that Satan has erected a wall around God's people. It would seem impossible to penetrate that wall with the judgment message. Remember the wall of Jericho? That prophecy will be fulfilled in its grandest meaning, in our very day (Josh.6:8,13; Rev.8:6). I am going to ask everyone whose heart inclines him to obey Eze.33:7,8 to be a part of the upcoming universal witness. For, it is the final one to be given. I am talking to another anointed one about how Holy Spirit is guiding this final warning. I will most certainly post all the details, as we become certain of how to do this in harmony with Yhvh's approval. The wall of Jericho fell, partly due to the blowing of the 7 horns of the priests (Joshua 6:8). This final wall of false teachings, which holds captive God's Called Ones, falls by the same means, as symbolized in Revelation (Rev.8:6). "Whether they hear, or whether they refrain" the warning must be given (Eze.2:5). This warning will be the main tool used to harvest the remaining wheat of anointed, upon which the arrival of the Kingdom awaits (Rev.14:14,15,16; 6:11). It is a very important activity, and I hope everyone possible will offer themselves to support it. The lives of those whom we regard as our "brothers and sisters", as well as the anointed who are still asleep and in chains, hangs in the balance. In fact it would be good to consider all of Ezekiel chapter 2, because it brings up the very "thorns" you mention.
Eze.2:1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10: And he said to me, “Son of man, stand on your feet, and I will speak with you.” And as he spoke to me, the Spirit entered into me and set me on my feet, and I heard him speaking to me. And he said to me, “Son of man, I send you to the people of Israel, to nations of rebels, who have rebelled against me. They and their fathers have transgressed against me to this very day. The descendants also are impudent and stubborn: I send you to them, and you shall say to them, ‘Thus says the Lord God.’ And whether they hear or refuse to hear (for they are a rebellious house) they will know that a prophet has been among them. And you, son of man, be not afraid of them, nor be afraid of their words, ~though briers and thorns are with you and you sit on scorpions.~ (Rev.9:3; Eze.2:6) Be not afraid of their words, nor be dismayed at their looks, for they are a rebellious house. And ~you shall speak my words to them, whether they hear or refuse to hear~, for they are a rebellious house. But you, son of man, hear what I say to you. Be not rebellious like that rebellious house; open your mouth and eat what I give you.” And when I looked, behold, a hand was stretched out to me, and behold, a scroll of a book was in it. And he spread it before me. And it had writing on the front and on the back, and there were written on it words of lamentation and mourning and woe." (Rev.8:13; 20:12)
So while we are not obligated to cast pearls before swine; we need to discern who those swine, dogs, "~thorns~" and "scorpions" are. https://4womaninthewilderness.blogspot.com/2013/06/dogs.html YHVH tells us in Rev.9:3,5,7.These are the ones bearing what seems like "crowns" of authority, an army that goes forth as multitudinous as a locust swarm. Their target? The "unsealed men", anointed previous to their being sealed. Why unsealed? Because they are obviously still under the domination of these "Locust/Scorpions" instead of Yhvh. Only by being set loose (Rev.9:14) from this smoke-like river of Satan's sons and their lies (Rev.12:15; 9:11; John 8:44; 2Thess. 2:3,9; Rev.12:3,9; 13:1,14,6); can these chosen ones become sealed as loyal to Yhvh (Rev.20:4). Yet we see from Eze.2 that a witness still has to be given to the "rebellious house". ~This is the light,~ although these empowered Locust/Scorpions exist, we may not conclude that all "Jehovah's Witnesses" are these "thorns". Only the elders are depicted as having counterfeit crowns of authority. These ones are the "thorns" and "scorpions". Yhvh tells us that they are beyond conversion to truth, by the "breastplates of iron" which they wear (Rev.9:9). While the entire "house"/"land"/"fold" of God's people are blinded by these insect vessels of darkness (Rev.9:2,3; Jer.25:29,30; Rev.12:16) and it causes them to leave loyalty to Yhvh; not all are those insects of authority/elders. We can not condone the idolatry of "Jehovah's Witnesses", nor continue to remain in company with them (Psalm 26:4; 1Cor. 5:11; Rev.18:4). But Ezekiel chapter 2 is clear, we must witness to them this final warning.
Jesus clearly showed me that the great majority will not heed the warning, not because we did not reach them with it, but due to their own hardened hearts, they stand as judged. Yhvh abandons them to their own desire. (Luke 17:28-37 LINK; 2Thess. 2:11; Ps.94:23) I hope you can see why this warning needs to be given. It saves us individually from blood-guilt. It establishes Yhvh's justice in condemning the wicked (who were first given warning). It saves those who can hear. It seals the rest of those who prove faithful, as well as the unfaithful "ten kings" who side with the Beast. All extremely important events of prophecy! I hope all who possibly can, will help. As I said, I will post details as they are established.
Your comments about the reaction of those marked by the Beast, help to illuminate the true identity of the Organization within prophecy. There is no other authority and power on earth, that has this control over people's minds and actions, as does this Wild Beast of Rev.13:8,15,16. We are seeing the fulfillment of that prophesied displaced loyalty and worship of the Wild Beast, right before our own eyes! God's Kingdom draws near!
https://4womaninthewilderness.blogspot.com/2013/05/warning-letter.html
Pearl's letter and Obadiah's letter

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To my beloved Marcus
I know you will make sure
this Heart reaches every lost Bastard
or any curious soul in general
until this guide is no longer necessary.
It makes me so sad to think I won't live to see that day.
It is hard for me to say this, but if this book has made its way into your hands, it means that it is already too late for you. For some reason, whichever it may be, you are already in the middle of our situation. And taking the chance now that I already said something so depressing, here is another thing: there is no way for you to get out of it.

Are you being surrounded by strange events lately? I don’t know, maybe the lights around you blink more often than not, the radio changes stations without anyone touching the dial? The animals are suddenly extremely aggressive, or maybe unnaturally tame towards you?

Suddenly you can’t shake the feeling that someone, or something, is staring at you from somewhere unseen in the room…

I guess that I don’t need to mention how this all started. You probably saw something you weren’t meant to see, didn’t you. Some random person breaking the rules of reality in one way or another. A guy flying, a girl on the streets spitting fire, objects appearing out of nowhere.

Nothing makes sense and no one seems to care or know how to explain it. Well my friend, I am sorry to inform you that you have been infected. You are incubating the Arcane Infection, and you are now Awake.

Now, you are a Mage. A Bastard Mage, if you don’t have a master to guide you… which is most probably the case.

If this is the first time you read this book, or any kind of Draconian Text, this probably doesn’t make any sense. I know, it didn’t make sense for me either when I was in your place, almost seventy years ago. But trust me, everything will be explained in time. Just be patient, and stay with me, ok? Keep calm, and keep reading.

The first thing you need to learn is to shut up. You cannot talk about this with anyone who hasn’t experienced it and holds some sort of relevant position in society. Really. Famous scientists, politicians, Mayors, I don’t know. Anyone who tends to be trusted by non-mages. Just. Don’t.

If you already did, let’s hope they didn’t believe you. With some luck, you were disregarded as a fool, a maniac or a person with too vivid of an imagination.

If you survive past three days or so after opening your dumb mouth, you should be safe? Now don’t do that again. The Black Pages don’t like it when you try to talk about this…

Remember that sensation of being stalked? Let’s say that it will eventually go away, unless you are stupid or naive enough to try and bring attention to this deal.

Yes. Magic is real. Good for you. Now shut your piehole and keep reading unless you want to be remembered soon. Walls have eyes and ears, and they’ll probably continue to have them for two or three months. Trying to run away will only perpetuate this, so the best thing you can do is not think about it.

Do something stupid in these months and you will die. Disappear. Kaput. Remembered.

There are people who want to maintain this as a secret. That is another thing I will explain in time.

Right now you have two options: You can learn how to manage this new “gift” (if you want to call it that) in a remotely appropriate way; or you can just be another idiot, and try to live a normal life.

What? You think I am being unnecessarily aggressive? Well maybe I am. But you need to understand the gravity of this situation.

Because I lied. You have no options. Learn how to use this new capability to your advantage, or you will die in a freak accident.

If after reading this you prefer to just keep on with your life like nothing happened, then good for you. Close the book, and put it back where it was. With some luck it will land in the hands of someone less dense.

.

.

.

Still reading? Good. Excellent! Sit down, get comfortable, maybe grab a drink. This is going to be long.

Among the words of this tome in your hands, you will find all the information I have been able to gather along my eighty god damn years of life, or at least all that you need to know to keep yourself alive until getting a proper guide.

It will be a long journey, and many of the things here won't make much sense, especially because I had to take the time to adapt and translate documents three or four centuries old to a mostly understandable format.
So you better be thankful.

The first thing I want you to know: please, for the love of God, do not settle for the things I am exposing here. All the information in this book will be absolutely basic, it won’t replace a formal education.. All the information here is for you to know where you are, how to start, and where to aim.

And now is when I am going to start telling you what IS inside this book.

We will start with something simple: what is Magic (or “The Art”) exactly, how did you end up in this situation and why is it important that you study it by yourself.

Then, after the general explanation, I will talk a little about our “Society”, if we can call a bunch of lonely, grumpy jackasses a “Mage Society”. There are some non-written rules of etiquette and other details that you need to keep in mind, if you want to keep the head on your neck.

Another section of the book will talk about the dangers around us… and this section will be, ironically enough, quite short, because the less you know about it, the better.

Mystery is your greatest ally, it’s everyone’s greatest ally. All that you don’t know is as important as what you do know. And that is what the fourth chapter is about. Each Mage has their own magical system, according to which they can create a Heart. There are as many ways of Magic as Mages in the world (so, not really that many), but all of them share some similarities.

Chapter Five is about the foundations of a ritual. Not every magical system has rituals, but it is always useful to learn and understand how these work, just in case you may find yourself in a desperate situation..

Finally, Chapter Six will be a directory with Formulas, Glyphs and Thrills that should serve as a starting point for all of you. Nothing too complex, but still, very useful. I left a few blank pages here, for you to add anything you learn and feel convenient.

If any of you misuses it, I swear to the Gods.

And this would be the real reason behind this tome: take whatever you can, leave what you create for others to use. I started this book as some sort of reproduction of the classic “Metodología del Fantástico”, that dear Gwendolin de Recattio left for us almost four hundred years ago, and that is obviously beyond obsolete at this point.

That and also probably burned to ashes as many other manuals end up.

Take notes damn it, I will leave spaces for everyone to make a little mark. But for the love of the Gods don’t use your real name, don’t be an imbecile.

Let’s make something together. Let’s create something important for once in our stupid lives. Let’s make the Bastard's life a little easier.

Gato.

That casual exclamation to the so-called ‘gods’ makes it clear that this book is either heretical or very old. Then again, the Wohlian it is written in is quite modern… but that could be the effect of magic, right? After all, this thing is written in ‘draconic’, which seems to be a magical language that self-translates or something?

But that was not the only thing that kinda came to my attention. This guy, Gato, is treating magic like this incredibly serious and dangerous thing… and I can’t help but feel a little nervous about it. I mean, everyone seems to be doing just fine, even if there are a few rules that I have to consider. Was this deal really so complicated?

Well, Gato was the expert, and it felt like everyone respected them plenty so… I will abide by them!

Besides, the knowledge here is beyond promising! A part of me wants to skip right to chapter 6 and start learning new runes! But no, I have to be patient, I have to learn the way it was intended and take my time absorbing/acclimating to the knowledge!

That does remind me, I have my own runes to learn and start using, too… should I begin practicing that before I start learning new ones?

“Wait. Before you do any of that… there’s more on the page?”

Huh?

I will add as much as I can! This book is a great resource but it is also a bit outdated, after all it’s been almost 80 years since its writing!

Don’t give up! We will see this through!

— Giovanni.

If I leave that idiot in charge of the notes he will undoubtedly forget things. Take his optimism with a grain of salt.

Pay attention.

— Mustafá.

Annotations?

I quickly open the file on my computer to compare… and just as I thought, these annotations are not on the scanned version. The beginning is exactly the same, but the writing makes it obvious that these two were written at different times, by the same hand but, still, copied individually!

I look down at my physical version again. Who are these people? And why did they feel the need to vandalize the book like this? I can only beg for them to actually make sensible and useful comments. If this book is as old as they say, maybe the updates will be a good thi–

Wait, only 80 years? I thought a book like this would be at least a century old.

Maybe magic is surprisingly modern after all!

“Fat chance. Gato quoted one of his sources, ‘Metodología del Fantástico’, which should be around five hundred years old.”

Hmmm, whatever the case… I should ask someone about this.

But I can’t just go right back to the Chatbox after saying I would be busy, that would be silly! I instead connect to the Messenger.

Pepe is not online, probably planning a cool vacation with his family or something. Vito is out drawing, Patricio is online but busy… ah, there it is! The group Gal made. Someone should know something there…

xXxCallMeBigCookiexXx: Hi hi! n.n Anyone here?
GalaxyTaco to your rescue!: hey Tav, just me for now! the others are busy or snoring.
GalaxyTaco to your rescue!: I wish I could go for some zzz right now
xXxCallMeBigCookiexXx: Is it late where you live? o.o
GalaxyTaco to your rescue!: early, we have a few hours of difference between Wohl and Rayah.

The Commonwealth of Rayah… that’s on the literal other side of Jericho, so of course we have half a day of difference!

xXxCallMeBigCookiexXx: Wait O.o is it like, five in the morning over there then!?
GalaxyTaco to your rescue!: eyeup
GalaxyTaco to your rescue!: today I gotta take care of granny’s business and that means waking up EARLY
xXxCallMeBigCookiexXx: Damn u.u I hope you have a good day, remember to keep hydrated!
GalaxyTaco to your rescue!: hah, will do, will do.
xXxCallMeBigCookiexXx: Hmmm… hey, sorry to bother you with this but, I gotta ask… uwu
xXxCallMeBigCookiexXx: Have you ever heard of Mustafá and/or Giovanni? uwu
GalaxyTaco to your rescue!: in what context?
GalaxyTaco to your rescue!: those are names, you’re saying names right now
xXxCallMeBigCookiexXx: In magic contexts? O.o
GalaxyTaco to your rescue!: not a clue, sorry
xXxCallMeBigCookiexXx: Bah, probably just a couple of randos then u.u
xXxCallMeBigCookiexXx: Oh well, thank you anyways! n.n
GalaxyTaco to your rescue!: where did you even find those names?
xXxCallMeBigCookiexXx: Ah! I found them in the physical version of the book you sent me!
GalaxyTaco to your rescue!: why did you go looking for that?
xXxCallMeBigCookiexXx: I don’t like reading in electronic media TwT
GalaxyTaco to your rescue!: hmmm ok but be careful
GalaxyTaco to your rescue!: don’t go testing the knowledge of randos or something like that
xXxCallMeBigCookiexXx: I won’t, I won’t -u- I will be nice and careful!

Cracking my knuckles, I finally get back into the book. Finally, some answers at hand!

This was originally posted to pettyrevenge, but for some reason got taken down. So here goes:
The revenge I took on my grade nine English teacher was so petty that I hesitate to write about it. But Mrs. Bristle (for that is the name I will give her) was cruel to me every chance she got, and she made my first year in high school a misery. So when a file with her name on it arrived at my office, my first thought was not that I would beat her (for I was certain that I would) but rather, of the revenge I would take along the way.
I was pushing forty when Mrs. Bristle’s file hit my desk, some estate litigation where a mother’s last will and testament left my clients next to nothing, and gave their sister, Mrs. Bristle, pretty well the entire estate. When I saw the defendant’s name it looked familiar, and after a bit of Googling, I confirmed what I suspected: the defendant, Mrs. Bristle, was my former grade nine English teacher.
I remembered Mrs. Bristle very well. She was supposed to be teaching us the wonders of English literature, but what she really taught us were her rules, by which she meant her arbitrary whims, expressed in vague language, backed up by petty punishments for non-compliance. There was an art to getting along with Mrs. Bristle, and while most of the other kids learned it easily enough, somehow I did not. I have trouble learning unwritten rules, and in Mrs. Bristle’s class where unwritten and constantly changing rules were the order of the day, I didn’t stand a chance. Mrs. Bristle admonished me almost daily for ‘not paying attention’. I did detentions, re-wrote assignments, and made visits to the principal’s office, all because I apparently wasn’t listening, wasn’t doing what I was told.
Many was the time when Mrs. Bristle took me to task for missing some obvious but unstated part of an assignment. One time I handed in a sonnet, and received an “F” because the rhyming pattern was Petrarchan, not Shakespearean. But she would be nice to me, Mrs. Bristle would always say when she tossed my work back at me. She would give me another chance to hand the assignment in with the arbitrary changes she required, in the end giving me a good mark, but then heavily downgraded for being late.
Mrs. Bristle's case worked its way through the early stages, and every time I exchanged an email with her (for she was a self-rep, no need for counsel, she claimed) I thought about the unpleasant time I’d spent in her class. I had a rough time in high school, and I always resent anything that makes me dwell on it.
After a few months, the case was ready for the next stage. It was time to examine Mrs. Bristle, to find out why she thought her mother wanted to disinherit most of the family and enrich Mrs. Bristle alone. I showed up at the court reporter’s office early as usual, to get set up.
“What’s that shit eating grin on your face?” Adam asked. He was a lawyer colleague, about my vintage, and we were sitting in the lounge for lawyers only, the room that most court reporter’s offices have, a place for the lawyers to hang out and shoot the shit, no clients allowed.
“I’m going to examine my grade nine English teacher today,” I said, “and it's going to be fun.” I explained how she’d hated me back in the day, and had done her best to make my life hell.
“What’s the case about?” Adam said. Adam had been around the block, same as me, and it took only a few words for me to summarize everything that mattered in the file. “Estate fight, one sibling against four, undue influence, holograph will cutting out most of the siblings, competing with an older will, a formal one, where the shares are equal.”
Adam nodded appreciatively. “Nice fees, if the estate’s got the cash.”
“It does,” I said. We chatted for a bit, and then sat there in silence as we each did the last bit of prep for the cases we had that day, making notes, reading documents and drinking coffee. My alarm dinged just before ten, and I made my way to the examination room, and Mrs. Bristle, the teacher who’d greatly disliked the grade nine version of Calledinthe90s. I was curious to see if she would like the older version any better.
* * *
The examination started, and Mrs. Bristle and I sparred for a while, me tossing vague questions her way, and criticizing her when she did not understand. I kept her on the defensive for close to three hours, until it was getting on to one p.m.
“Aren’t you in a conflict or something?” she said to me just before the lunch break, when she’d finally made the connection, and understood that the lawyer asking her questions was a former student.
“No conflict,” I said, dismissing her concerns with a wave of my hand. “During the lunch break, there’s something I need you to do.”
“I don’t want to answer questions during lunch. I need a break.” The examination had been rough on Mrs. Bristle. She was not used to being asked questions, to being held to account, to being constantly challenged, and even having her grammar corrected now and again.
“You’ll get your lunch break. But while you’re eating a sandwich or whatever, keep this copy of the holograph will next to you.” The will on which Mrs. Bristle’s case relied was a holograph will, meaning that Mrs. Bristle’s mother had written the will entirely in hand from start to finish. The mother, or more likely, Mrs. Bristle herself, had downloaded a holograph will form from the web, and had completed it in accordance with the website’s instructions. Holograph wills are special. You can do a holograph will without a witness, without a lawyer, without anything at all, so long as you did it right. But if you got anything wrong, if you messed up in any way, it was invalid.
“You want me to read the will again over lunch?” Mrs. Bristle said.
“No. Instead, I want you to make a handwritten copy of it.”
“You want me to write it out? Whatever for?”
“There’s an allegation that the will wasn’t written by your mother, and that you wrote it up instead.” An allegation that I’d made up myself, that morning, while I was sitting in the lawyer's lounge, drinking coffee and munching on a muffin. My clients had not challenged the will’s handwriting; it was obviously their mother’s, totally different from Mrs. Bristle’s own writing. But I had decided otherwise.
Mrs. Bristle was appropriately outraged at being unjustly accused of forgery. Said she could prove it wasn’t her handwriting, could absolutely prove it.
“Then let’s settle the forgery issue once and for all,” I said, “write out the will in your own hand, so that our document experts can examine it, compare it with the original, and make a determination.”
“I don’t need the entire lunch break for that,” Mrs. Bristle said, “and I’d rather eat lunch at the restaurant downstairs.” The will was barely a page long, at most three hundred words, that being all it took for the mother to allegedly disinherit most of her children, and inexplicably leave everything to Mrs. Bristle. The mother had written up the will herself, but she’d been ninety at the time, while living in Mrs. Bristle’s house, and very much under her influence.
“I’ve retained five different experts,” I said, “and each of them will need copies.”
“Five experts? Why so many experts?”
“Each expert needs ten samples, for comparison purposes. It’s going to take you a while, Mrs. Bristle. I suggest you get started.” I overrode her protests and once she started to write, I left her in the room, and went to the lawyer’s lounge to eat their small sandwiches and drink more of the excellent coffee. After a while I stopped by the examination room to look in on Mrs. Bristle. I wanted to check in on her progress.
Mrs. Bristle asked for more time, complained of writer’s cramp, and asked me again if it was really necessary for her to write out the holograph will fifty times in her own hand, and I assured her that there was nothing for it, that it was absolutely necessary. I returned to the lounge to check my emails, leaving her hard at the homework I’d given her.
After a while my colleague, Adam, popped into the lounge. He asked me how it was going, the examination with the teacher, the teacher who had treated me so badly.
“I’m making her write lines.” Adam laughed, and laughed harder when I explained that I wasn’t kidding, that I really was making Mrs. Bristle write lines, and how I was doing it. His laughter attracted attention, and a few other lawyers asked what was up. “He’s making his teacher witness write lines,” Adam said, and the lawyer’s lounge hooted with laughter when I told everyone what was up.
It was one of the pettiest things I’ve ever done to anyone, making my grade nine teacher write lines. But the writing lines thing was just a warmup. The real revenge had yet to come. I returned to the examination room after a while, to check up on Mrs. Bristle, see how she was doing.
“This is taking forever,” she said, “and I really don’t get why you need it.” She had writer’s cramp, and was shaking her hand to get the kinks out. I picked up the stack of holograph wills she’d created, and flipped through it. She was nowhere near finished.
“On second thought,” I said, “maybe it isn’t necessary. I think you’re right. I don’t need any handwriting samples from you.”
“Why not?” she said.
“The will is invalid,” I explained, adding that because her mother had used a pre-printed form off the web, the law would not recognize the will. “A holograph will has to be entirely in the testator's handwriting,” I explained, “every single word entirely in handwriting from start to finish. This will doesn’t qualify, because your mother used a standard form, a form printed off the web, with instructions and boxes and questions and so on, and when you do that, then the will is no longer a holograph will. It’s a regular will, and regular wills need to be properly witnessed. This one isn’t witnessed, and that means it’s not a will. It’s just a piece of paper.”
“Are you trying to tell me that you only figured that out now? What kind of lawyer are you, anyways?”
“What kind of lawyer am I? I’m a lawyer who makes a witness skip lunch, and sit in a small room all alone, and write lines. Sound familiar, Mrs. Bristle?” She said nothing, and just stared at me. I closed the door on her, leaving her alone once more, and left for the Middle Temple Tavern where the lawyers all hung out. It was time to hoist a Guinness and enjoy my petty triumph.