TL;DR: my ex-boyfriend has been treating me hot/cold but I love him too much to care. Please bring me back down to earth.
Here is a bit of a backstory: my (now) ex-boyfriend and I met in January 2023 and started dating at the end of February after getting along well on our first four dates and calling for multiple hours a day when I was away learning to further my education for a month. We really clicked in our relationship and never had any problems; never even argued. I met his parents, but due to some family issues on my end, he never met mine and I instead introduced him to my closest friend that still lived in the same city as I did (my other friends all moved to different countries for university). Now, although I've had three boyfriends before him (longest one having been a year), I've never loved anyone in my life. That was until my ex came along, who showed me how I should be treated, was always there for me, put in effort and was extremely kind and good to me. I fell in love with him in the beginning of April (I know, that's extremely fast) and that love for him has only grown since then, although I never confessed this while we were together. We dated until mid-august 2023 and broke up because he was accepted into his dream university on a different continent. We planned the break up a day before he left; he was the one to bring it up and I suggested we stay friends. At the time, he had already decided that he would be coming back during his next summer break (so from may to the middle of august), but wasn't sure whether he'd be back every summer. He also wasn't sure whether he'd ever be coming back permanently. I also moved away for university, although just to a neighboring country, so much, much closer. The first two months after we broke up, we spoke very little to each other (so one to two times a week via text) in order to process everything and heal. We both have Birthdays at the end of September, his being nine days after mine, so I wrote him a two and a half typed letter and made a collage of random pictures on the internet that reminded me of our experiences together (sadly, I don't have a single picture of him or us together as he doesn't like taking them) as a gift. He was very grateful and sweet about this. In the months after, we started to text and also call more frequently. Since there was a significant time difference between us, I often stayed up all night or got up in the middle of the night just to talk to him. At some point, I made a sleep-drunk mistake of writing him that we should stop chatting now lest I tell him something I'd regret in the morning. Of course, he was rightfully inquisitive afterwards and asked about it cutely the two days after. Until I made another sleep drunk mistake and pulled up an old text I had sent him on the first of April 2023, which said: "The moon is beautiful, isn't it?" and told him to google it. That phrase is basically a poetic way of saying I love you. I know that that was an extremely shitty thing to do, especially over a text, after we had broken up almost half a year before and I told him that I was really sorry and felt very guilty for it. He then surprised me by saying that he felt the same way. We kept in relatively close contact afterwards and would talk about anything and everything, just like we did when we were together. This continued until the beginning of this year, until he started being very distant towards me and it was tiring to converse with him as I had to stem the whole conversation, often being exhausted. At some point, my mental health started acting up again and several things happened in my family that made me extremely unstable financially, which in turn stressed me out quite a lot. I was quite fed up with his behavior and him not explaining it in the slightest (I never communicated this) by this point, so I stopped putting in the effort of arranging times to call and taking the initiative of chatting. He did reach out with a random emoji or an "How are you doing?" sometimes, but not very frequently. Whenever he did, I gladly answered him and engaged in conversations. The next few days, I'd also initiate conversations but these were always much more distant than whenever he texted first. During this whole time, I was always extremely in love with him and had to force myself from not reaching out 24/7. I knew he was dealing with the passing of two grandparents that unfortunately died in the course of six months and that he was super busy with finals and everything, but his lack of engagement still really hurt. However, I also knew that I had no right to his time now that we were no longer together. Still, I tried to be there for him as much as possible during this difficult time. We kept getting more and more distant, and while I knew a lot of surface-level information about him, he no longer knew anything about me because he never asked. I started to accept that and began to blot out my feelings towards him. That was until he told me that once he was back home, he wanted to come visit me. Upon hearing that, I let all my feelings came back immediately. We started to call more often (these were still very distant) and often played his new favorite video game together. It wasn't really my thing but I bought it even though I could barely afford food that month (here's a thank you to my credit card company) but I knew that I could at least hear his voice and get a warm feeling that way. Around two weeks before his return home, I suggested that we should call without playing video games to talk about our situation and he agreed to do so after finishing his finals. That is what we did, around a week before his return. He explained that he thought he was demisexual and that, if he'd had the mindset about relationships that he has now when we first met, he'd probably never have asked me out. While he was saying this, I remember thinking "please don't break my heart, please don't break my heart", but he did. In his next sentence, he said that he'd like what we had when we were together back. Of course, I was elated. Just a small side-step about me: I am asexual through and through, and I think also a bit aromantic. I have never once in my life wanted to sleep with someone. I also never actively pursued a relationship, they just kind of happened. The only exception to this is my ex. Had he not asked me out the day after our ways were supposed to part, I would've done so the next morning. And, we also slept with each other. All this is to say that I understand how he felt, but it still hurt that I am not his exception to everything.
That phone call was last week. Now we are in the same city again and I saw him again just yesterday. I arrived by bus yesterday morning as I had decided to visit him sooner than was planned (the original plan was the end of may). I am extremely busy at the moment because I am preparing for a life-changing exam but I still decided to go, since he said that he didn't think he could come visit me after all because that wouldn't be convenient. So I saved up money and bought the bus tickets. Another thing is that I'm terrified of bus rides because of a bad past experience, which is why I didn't shut an eye during the nine-hour night ride. Upon arriving, I doused myself in caffeine so that I can think of follow-up questions quicker and make conversation easier with him in general.
I was set on him coming to my place since I was exhausted and didn't want to take two busses in one day, and so he came. Since I knew that he was distant and still figuring stuff out about himself, I let him make the first step, and, to my surprise he pulled me into a long, tight hug. This of course made me euphoric and I hoped that we could be together again for the summer. However, he was distant for the whole evening afterwards. We first played his favorite video game for hours while I took painkillers for my headache that always arises when I look at bright screens for a prolonged time, then ordered pizza. He didn't even offer to pay or even contribute, despite knowing my financial situation and him being in a much better financial spot than I am. Then, we watched a series. We were sitting next to each other, so I started to massage his head for a bit, until he got up to grab water. I wasn't sure whether this was just an excuse to get up or not, so I backed off for a little while afterwards. Then, I tried to hold his arm, and he gave it to me willingly. When it was time for bed, he started talking to me freely, just like we had always done and, as soon as the lights were out, he started cuddling me and holding me tight. I told him that he couldn't imagine how much I had missed him and he said that he felt the same way too. We cuddled a bit more and talked about random things, then he started touching me and going down on me, and just taking his time spoiling me. Afterwards he said that I could always ask him to do so again, whenever. I considered telling him that I still loved him, and that my love for him had just grown but my rational thinking luckily kicked in fast enough to prevent that. We held each other some more, listened to the sounds of the night and our breaths, then he made love to me and we fell asleep. This morning, he was distant and short with me. We ate the leftover pizza for breakfast, and over the first cup of coffee I had ever brewed in my life told me that he thought it'd be better if I didn't come back with him to his place later as the plan had been. My heart shattering in my chest wasn't noticeable on the outside since I always want us to be able to talk about things like this as objectively as possible. We talked about his university life for a bit normally, like we would have done when we were together and he even led the conversation. Then, he got up, packed his things, hugged me, and left.
Now I don't know what to do. The rational part of me knows it's over and that we'll never have a future together, but part of me hopes we can still be together this summer. Even if the goodbye hurts, it would be worth it to me. I always knew and he made it clear many times that his parents and friends were a priority over me to him; for me it is the opposite: he is a priority over everything to me, over my mother, over my friends, over my money, over my time and when necessary, even over myself. I also aways suspected that my feelings for him were much greater than his to me.
I really don't want this to be it. I want to hear his voice again many times over, I want to feel his touch, I want to share his time. I am just not ready to let go.
I don't really know what I want from this endlessly long post. I guess a conclusion? Maybe something that would make me ready to let go?
At the moment I don't feel like I'll ever want to love someone else. I could imagine spending years, decades with this man. I know the relationship was ridiculously short compared to others on here, but we just clicked unlike anyone else I've ever met.
Sorry for making this so long, and thank you so much for soldiering through this monstrosity. Any kind of advice would mean the world to me and help me a lot.

Here is a bit of a backstory: my (now) ex-boyfriend and I met in January 2023 and started dating at the end of February after getting along well on our first four dates and calling for multiple hours a day when I was away learning to further my education for a month. We really clicked in our relationship and never had any problems; never even argued. I met his parents, but due to some family issues on my end, he never met mine and I instead introduced him to my closest friend that still lived in the same city as I did (my other friends all moved to different countries for university). Now, although I've had three boyfriends before him (longest one having been a year), I've never loved anyone in my life. That was until my ex came along, who showed me how I should be treated, was always there for me, put in effort and was extremely kind and good to me. I fell in love with him in the beginning of April (I know, that's extremely fast) and that love for him has only grown since then, although I never confessed this while we were together. We dated until mid-august 2023 and broke up because he was accepted into his dream university on a different continent. We planned the break up a day before he left; he was the one to bring it up and I suggested we stay friends. At the time, he had already decided that he would be coming back during his next summer break (so from may to the middle of august), but wasn't sure whether he'd be back every summer. He also wasn't sure whether he'd ever be coming back permanently. I also moved away for university, although just to a neighboring country, so much, much closer. The first two months after we broke up, we spoke very little to each other (so one to two times a week via text) in order to process everything and heal. We both have Birthdays at the end of September, his being nine days after mine, so I wrote him a two and a half typed letter and made a collage of random pictures on the internet that reminded me of our experiences together (sadly, I don't have a single picture of him or us together as he doesn't like taking them) as a gift. He was very grateful and sweet about this. In the months after, we started to text and also call more frequently. Since there was a significant time difference between us, I often stayed up all night or got up in the middle of the night just to talk to him. At some point, I made a sleep-drunk mistake of writing him that we should stop chatting now lest I tell him something I'd regret in the morning. Of course, he was rightfully inquisitive afterwards and asked about it cutely the two days after. Until I made another sleep drunk mistake and pulled up an old text I had sent him on the first of April 2023, which said: "The moon is beautiful, isn't it?" and told him to google it. That phrase is basically a poetic way of saying I love you. I know that that was an extremely shitty thing to do, especially over a text, after we had broken up almost half a year before and I told him that I was really sorry and felt very guilty for it. He then surprised me by saying that he felt the same way. We kept in relatively close contact afterwards and would talk about anything and everything, just like we did when we were together. This continued until the beginning of this year, until he started being very distant towards me and it was tiring to converse with him as I had to stem the whole conversation, often being exhausted. At some point, my mental health started acting up again and several things happened in my family that made me extremely unstable financially, which in turn stressed me out quite a lot. I was quite fed up with his behavior and him not explaining it in the slightest (I never communicated this) by this point, so I stopped putting in the effort of arranging times to call and taking the initiative of chatting. He did reach out with a random emoji or an "How are you doing?" sometimes, but not very frequently. Whenever he did, I gladly answered him and engaged in conversations. The next few days, I'd also initiate conversations but these were always much more distant than whenever he texted first. During this whole time, I was always extremely in love with him and had to force myself from not reaching out 24/7. I knew he was dealing with the passing of two grandparents that unfortunately died in the course of six months and that he was super busy with finals and everything, but his lack of engagement still really hurt. However, I also knew that I had no right to his time now that we were no longer together. Still, I tried to be there for him as much as possible during this difficult time. We kept getting more and more distant, and while I knew a lot of surface-level information about him, he no longer knew anything about me because he never asked. I started to accept that and began to blot out my feelings towards him. That was until he told me that once he was back home, he wanted to come visit me. Upon hearing that, I let all my feelings came back immediately. We started to call more often (these were still very distant) and often played his new favorite video game together. It wasn't really my thing but I bought it even though I could barely afford food that month (here's a thank you to my credit card company) but I knew that I could at least hear his voice and get a warm feeling that way. Around two weeks before his return home, I suggested that we should call without playing video games to talk about our situation and he agreed to do so after finishing his finals. That is what we did, around a week before his return. He explained that he thought he was demisexual and that, if he'd had the mindset about relationships that he has now when we first met, he'd probably never have asked me out. While he was saying this, I remember thinking "please don't break my heart, please don't break my heart", but he did. In his next sentence, he said that he'd like what we had when we were together back. Of course, I was elated. Just a small side-step about me: I am asexual through and through, and I think also a bit aromantic. I have never once in my life wanted to sleep with someone. I also never actively pursued a relationship, they just kind of happened. The only exception to this is my ex. Had he not asked me out the day after our ways were supposed to part, I would've done so the next morning. And, we also slept with each other. All this is to say that I understand how he felt, but it still hurt that I am not his exception to everything.
That phone call was last week. Now we are in the same city again and I saw him again just yesterday. I arrived by bus yesterday morning as I had decided to visit him sooner than was planned (the original plan was the end of may). I am extremely busy at the moment because I am preparing for a life-changing exam but I still decided to go, since he said that he didn't think he could come visit me after all because that wouldn't be convenient. So I saved up money and bought the bus tickets. Another thing is that I'm terrified of bus rides because of a bad past experience, which is why I didn't shut an eye during the nine-hour night ride. Upon arriving, I doused myself in caffeine so that I can think of follow-up questions quicker and make conversation easier with him in general.
I was set on him coming to my place since I was exhausted and didn't want to take two busses in one day, and so he came. Since I knew that he was distant and still figuring stuff out about himself, I let him make the first step, and, to my surprise he pulled me into a long, tight hug. This of course made me euphoric and I hoped that we could be together again for the summer. However, he was distant for the whole evening afterwards. We first played his favorite video game for hours while I took painkillers for my headache that always arises when I look at bright screens for a prolonged time, then ordered pizza. He didn't even offer to pay or even contribute, despite knowing my financial situation and him being in a much better financial spot than I am. Then, we watched a series. We were sitting next to each other, so I started to massage his head for a bit, until he got up to grab water. I wasn't sure whether this was just an excuse to get up or not, so I backed off for a little while afterwards. Then, I tried to hold his arm, and he gave it to me willingly. When it was time for bed, he started talking to me freely, just like we had always done and, as soon as the lights were out, he started cuddling me and holding me tight. I told him that he couldn't imagine how much I had missed him and he said that he felt the same way too. We cuddled a bit more and talked about random things, then he started touching me and going down on me, and just taking his time spoiling me. Afterwards he said that I could always ask him to do so again, whenever. I considered telling him that I still loved him, and that my love for him had just grown but my rational thinking luckily kicked in fast enough to prevent that. We held each other some more, listened to the sounds of the night and our breaths, then he made love to me and we fell asleep. This morning, he was distant and short with me. We ate the leftover pizza for breakfast, and over the first cup of coffee I had ever brewed in my life told me that he thought it'd be better if I didn't come back with him to his place later as the plan had been. My heart shattering in my chest wasn't noticeable on the outside since I always want us to be able to talk about things like this as objectively as possible. We talked about his university life for a bit normally, like we would have done when we were together and he even led the conversation. Then, he got up, packed his things, hugged me, and left.
Now I don't know what to do. The rational part of me knows it's over and that we'll never have a future together, but part of me hopes we can still be together this summer. Even if the goodbye hurts, it would be worth it to me. I always knew and he made it clear many times that his parents and friends were a priority over me to him; for me it is the opposite: he is a priority over everything to me, over my mother, over my friends, over my money, over my time and when necessary, even over myself. I also aways suspected that my feelings for him were much greater than his to me.
I really don't want this to be it. I want to hear his voice again many times over, I want to feel his touch, I want to share his time. I am just not ready to let go.
I don't really know what I want from this endlessly long post. I guess a conclusion? Maybe something that would make me ready to let go?
At the moment I don't feel like I'll ever want to love someone else. I could imagine spending years, decades with this man. I know the relationship was ridiculously short compared to others on here, but we just clicked unlike anyone else I've ever met.
Sorry for making this so long, and thank you so much for soldiering through this monstrosity. Any kind of advice would mean the world to me and help me a lot.

Disclaimer:This was made in the span of 3 days. I would have posted here daily if I had remembered that this subReddit exists.
Part 1(Monday):
I met my crush when I was in high-school. I was 13 and she was 14. When I set eyes on her, I knew that she was the one for me. Her reflective skin was like gold waiting to be rubbed and loved. Her luminous eyes were like marbles designed for gazers. Her hair was like a sari, but as soft as silk, waiting to infatuate onlookers who fall in its honey-sweet trap. An example of the above is me.
2 years later, this infatuation still encrusted me. I was in Class XI, and we were studying to obtain Indian Secondary Certificate. Although it is exacting on us, we still have the time to appreciate our boons. I did so via writing a love letter, and presenting it to her. Today, I found out that I had left it at home, despite fatiguing on it. I was devastated. However, I replicated it while pooping on the toilet at the double.
I gave it to my crush, and then, due to being overwrought, ran away from her, hyperventilating, laughing, and crying at the same time. Unfortunately, she just said thanks to me at reccess. I was devastated. However, when I went home, I was taken out of the frying pan into the fire. My mother had discovered the original love letter.
She told me that she found it in my bag, and that we were going to read it together. I was in the most calamitous set of circumstances I had been in my entire life. Fortunately, her phone started ringing in the adjacent room, leading her to retrieve it and communicate to the other person. I darted towards the paper and vehemently did the needful. However, I froze in trepidation when I heard the voice of my crush's father's at the other end of the landline. However, since he works in a scam-centre, he just wanted to scam my mother.
When she finished rebuking him, she came back to the drawing room, where she had reserved my love letter. When pursuing it and interrogating me about its whereabouts, she was replied to via bewildered faces and expressions with a lack of fear. However, she grew tired of pursuing its whereabouts, and therefore, left the room. However, I believe that she has seen it, as they uncrumpled it and left it neatly folded on our bookshelf, which fills me with terror.
Part 2(Tuesday):
I met my crush when I was in high-school. I was 13 and she was 14. When I set eyes on her, I knew that she was the one for me. Her reflective skin was like gold waiting to be rubbed and loved. Her luminous eyes were like marbles designed for gazers. Her hair was like a sari, but as soft as silk, waiting to infatuate onlookers who fall in its honey-sweet trap. An example of the above is me.
I decided to test my valour via generating and sending a love letter to her. Unfortunately, at the time, she just said 'Thanks', which had left me devastated. Moreso, I had to duplicate my letter while pooping out biryani I ate on Sunday, in the highschool toilet, since my mother had stolen my original letter. I thought I did the needful to destroy it. Unfortunately, it was all in vain, which caused my letter to be found by my father.
My father was about to beat me with his belt, which was the worst thing that could happen to a 16 year old Indian teenager. However, fortunately, somebody in uaeteenagers gave me advice, which I used. I dissembled my stories and weaved a lie that states that my friend dared me to give my crush a love letter, and that I was not in love with her, which persuaded my father that I was not in need of a thrasing.
I was relieved, and to make my amygdala, my insula, my insular cortex, and my periaqueductal gray even more elated, she had put a love letter in my bag that apologised for her lacklustre response towards me. She has requested a date that will be taking place tomorrow, and since my parents will be out, of the house, I saw eye to eye with her metaphorically, to ensure that we could literally see eye to eye with each other tomorrow.
I am currently, very elated by this, and am thrilled by a new experience that I will be experiencing. Until now, the only acquaintance with dates I had seen so far were in Hollywood pictures, which cater to a western audience, and therefore, until now, have led me to believe that us Indians cannot get dates due to our conservative nature. However, I was proven wrong, and will extract the moral of the impossible being possible from this memorable episode.
Part 3(Wednesday):
I met my crush when I was in high-school. I was 13 and she was 14. When I set eyes on her, I knew that she was the one for me. Therefore, I valiantly and strenuously, produced a love letter and delivered it to my crush. She was elated by this, and made me elated as well, via inviting me on a date with her. I contentedly to do so, not knowing the consequences of the tragic decision I made.
Today, at 18:00, which is half an hour after I reach my house, I get prepared to go on the date and dazzle her, leaving my house abandoned. To my ginormous shock, she had apparently booked a taxi for me. I live in Dubai. My house was in Al Furjan, while our date was in Motor City, which resulted in a mere half-an-hour journey As I diffidently walked up to the restaurant, I was greeted with a ghastly sight.
She had arrived, but not alone. Her entire family was with her, from her parents, to her elder brother, to her extended family, including her grandparents, uncles, and aunties. They began bombarding me with questions such as my grades in different subjects. However, I had a notable concern:As with most Indian parents, her parents were averse to love, and believed in arranged marriages, similar to mine. There was only one way out, and it was of an execrable nature.
With a heavy heart, I began to rip the most stentorian, malodorous and most fervent fart I had released in my entire life. It had now reverberated towards the now tumultuous room. Amidst all the pandemonium, I escaped from there, and with the permission of a stranger, took another taxi back to my house in Al Furjan, where I would be unscarred from the danger of both my parents' potential revelation, and the disapprobation of the family of my crush.
I am now typing this amidst a stream of tears and a heavy heart. However, I have now learnt sacrifice, and that bitter truth that life would be blemished in one way or another, for example, in this case, either via the revelation of my parents, the disapprobation of the family of my crush, and sacrificing my potential wife. However, this is something that can neither be concealed in y hippocampus, nor my amygdala, which results in me sharing this.
(Please speak in English. I don't know Hindi.)

Disclaimer:This was made in the span of 3 days. I would have posted here daily of it weren't for the restriction of relationship posts to be only on Wednesday.
Part 1(Monday):
I met my crush when I was in high-school. I was 13 and she was 14. When I set eyes on her, I knew that she was the one for me. Her reflective skin was like gold waiting to be rubbed and loved. Her luminous eyes were like marbles designed for gazers. Her hair was like a sari, but as soft as silk, waiting to infatuate onlookers who fall in its honey-sweet trap. An example of the above is me.
2 years later, this infatuation still encrusted me. I was in Class XI, and we were studying to obtain Indian Secondary Certificate. Although it is exacting on us, we still have the time to appreciate our boons. I did so via writing a love letter, and presenting it to her. Today, I found out that I had left it at home, despite fatiguing on it. I was devastated. However, I replicated it while pooping on the toilet at the double.
I gave it to my crush, and then, due to being overwrought, ran away from her, hyperventilating, laughing, and crying at the same time. Unfortunately, she just said thanks to me at reccess. I was devastated. However, when I went home, I was taken out of the frying pan into the fire. My mother had discovered the original love letter.
She told me that she found it in my bag, and that we were going to read it together. I was in the most calamitous set of circumstances I had been in my entire life. Fortunately, her phone started ringing in the adjacent room, leading her to retrieve it and communicate to the other person. I darted towards the paper and vehemently did the needful. However, I froze in trepidation when I heard the voice of my crush's father's at the other end of the landline. However, since he works in a scam-centre, he just wanted to scam my mother.
When she finished rebuking him, she came back to the drawing room, where she had reserved my love letter. When pursuing it and interrogating me about its whereabouts, she was replied to via bewildered faces and expressions with a lack of fear. However, she grew tired of pursuing its whereabouts, and therefore, left the room. However, I believe that she has seen it, as they uncrumpled it and left it neatly folded on our bookshelf, which fills me with terror.
Part 2(Tuesday):
I met my crush when I was in high-school. I was 13 and she was 14. When I set eyes on her, I knew that she was the one for me. Her reflective skin was like gold waiting to be rubbed and loved. Her luminous eyes were like marbles designed for gazers. Her hair was like a sari, but as soft as silk, waiting to infatuate onlookers who fall in its honey-sweet trap. An example of the above is me.
I decided to test my valour via generating and sending a love letter to her. Unfortunately, at the time, she just said 'Thanks', which had left me devastated. Moreso, I had to duplicate my letter while pooping out biryani I ate on Sunday, in the highschool toilet, since my mother had stolen my original letter. I thought I did the needful to destroy it. Unfortunately, it was all in vain, which caused my letter to be found by my father.
My father was about to beat me with his belt, which was the worst thing that could happen to a 16 year old Indian teenager. However, fortunately, somebody in uaeteenagers gave me advice, which I used. I dissembled my stories and weaved a lie that states that my friend dared me to give my crush a love letter, and that I was not in love with her, which persuaded my father that I was not in need of a thrasing.
I was relieved, and to make my amygdala, my insula, my insular cortex, and my periaqueductal gray even more elated, she had put a love letter in my bag that apologised for her lacklustre response towards me. She has requested a date that will be taking place tomorrow, and since my parents will be out, of the house, I saw eye to eye with her metaphorically, to ensure that we could literally see eye to eye with each other tomorrow.
I am currently, very elated by this, and am thrilled by a new experience that I will be experiencing. Until now, the only acquaintance with dates I had seen so far were in Hollywood pictures, which cater to a western audience, and therefore, until now, have led me to believe that us Indians cannot get dates due to our conservative nature. However, I was proven wrong, and will extract the moral of the impossible being possible from this memorable episode.
Part 3(Wednesday):
I met my crush when I was in high-school. I was 13 and she was 14. When I set eyes on her, I knew that she was the one for me. Therefore, I valiantly and strenuously, produced a love letter and delivered it to my crush. She was elated by this, and made me elated as well, via inviting me on a date with her. I contentedly to do so, not knowing the consequences of the tragic decision I made.
Today, at 18:00, which is half an hour after I reach my house, I get prepared to go on the date and dazzle her, leaving my house abandoned. To my ginormous shock, she had apparently booked a taxi for me. I live in Dubai. My house was in Al Furjan, while our date was in Motor City, which resulted in a mere half-an-hour journey As I diffidently walked up to the restaurant, I was greeted with a ghastly sight.
She had arrived, but not alone. Her entire family was with her, from her parents, to her elder brother, to her extended family, including her grandparents, uncles, and aunties. They began bombarding me with questions such as my grades in different subjects. However, I had a notable concern:As with most Indian parents, her parents were averse to love, and believed in arranged marriages, similar to mine. There was only one way out, and it was of an execrable nature.
With a heavy heart, I began to rip the most stentorian, malodorous and most fervent fart I had released in my entire life. It had now reverberated towards the now tumultuous room. Amidst all the pandemonium, I escaped from there, and with the permission of a stranger, took another taxi back to my house in Al Furjan, where I would be unscarred from the danger of both my parents' potential revelation, and the disapprobation of the family of my crush.
I am now typing this amidst a stream of tears and a heavy heart. However, I have now learnt sacrifice, and that bitter truth that life would be blemished in one way or another, for example, in this case, either via the revelation of my parents, the disapprobation of the family of my crush, and sacrificing my potential wife. However, this is something that can neither be concealed in y hippocampus, nor my amygdala, which results in me sharing this.
(Please speak in English. I don't know Hindi.)

SO to put a long story short, my ex and I were highschool sweetHearts and didn't work out. I was basically taken in my his family and I always feel bad with how this ended up. His mother was a saint and always helping me with many things. I always wanted to say I'm sorry to her for how things ended with her son and I. Heck she was the biggest one encouraging me to leave her son because as she put it and ill never forget it, ''you're a grown adult while he is still acting like a child. ''
I still have a family heirloom of hers and I want to return it but I also want to give her a letter with it to explain myself and to thank her. Its been over a year now since her son and I went our different ways, but it still sits on my mind that I never said sorry or even got to really thank her for everything she had done for me.
Honestly it might just be my hormones right now since I am 7 1/2 months pregnant but would I be wrong to leave a letter thanking her for everything shes done for me and so forth when I return her family heirlooms?

Are you ready for another alphabet excerpt challenge? Well, here it is! As a reminder, our challenges are every Wednesday and Saturday at 3pm London time.
Looking for another game to play along with? Don't miss u/Dogdaysareover365's Excerpt game - trope/cliche.
If you've missed the previous challenges, you're welcome to go back and participate in them. You can find them here.
Here's a quick recap of the rules for our game:

1. Post a top level comment with a word starting with the letter N You can do more than one, but please put them in separate comments.
2. Reply to suggestions with an excerpt. Short and sweet is best, but use your judgement. Excerpts can be from published or unpublished works, or even something you wrote for the prompt.
3. Upvote the excerpts you enjoy, and leave a friendly comment. Try to at least respond to people who left excerpts on the words you suggested, but the more people you respond to the better. Everyone likes nice comments!
4. Most important: have fun!

Not the best writter nor the most knowledgeable 40k fan, but there is my humble contribution for this AU
I tried my best for this, and probably have some contradictions with the lore, I probably missed some important parts or decisions of the community. I apologise if that's the case.
Not a native english speaker, sorry for the mistakes
Eager to read your opinions about this.
Disclaimer: I've tried to make the relationship wierd and to emphasise the following elements: « Is she... messing with your mind ? » and the possibility she might read OS thoughts (cf u/Sweet_older-Sister 's Magnus post).
Not everyone is promised for a great destiny.
For a scholar in the City of Light, being born and continuing to live on the splendid Prospero, learning day by day, exchanging with peers and studying hundreds of books and grimoires is a more than ordinary destiny, but one that is oh so satisfying. Add to that the occasional opportunity to speak with the brilliant minds of the XVth Legion, and it's hard to imagine a better life. Here, among all the scholars, there is one who stands out from the rest for his unquenchable thirst for knowledge. Friendly nicknamed ‘Bookworm’ by his peers, it's almost impossible to see him without his nose buried in a book. With his face hidden beneath the hood of his bure, he cuts himself off from the world and devours every sentence, every word, every letter that passes before his eyes. It is said that the only time he took his eyes off his reading was when warriors from the 15th were addressing him. Like many other inhabitants of the planet, Bookworm had an affinity with the Warp. However, his presence was no weaker or brighter than anyone else's, and he only stood out from the crowd because of his habit of reading all the time. He lived a peaceful and happy life, enviable in a way.
As the Lord of Prospero, Magnolia rules and lives on this world, surrounded by her precious children. Returning to her planet after another victorious conquest, and receiving a triumphant welcome, the Cyclopean Sorceress marched through the capital at the head of her legion before the astonished eyes of the people. The distinctive scents of Prospero invaded her nostrils, awakening a slight nostalgia for the days of her childhood, right up to the arrival of the Emperor. With her noble gait, she moved mechanically towards the Great Library, eager to find new things to record and archive. The fact that she was in such a quiet place, where all known knowledge converged, appealed to her spirit, even though she was obviously the source of distraction for all scholastic eyes. Her presence, so imposing and remarkable, was an object of admiration for all the scholars eager to imbibe her knowledge. Trying to ignore the stares, she browsed the shelves of the library, observing the bindings of the books that passed before her eyes, when, at the turn of a corner, she stopped abruptly, almost knocking over a hooded figure who didn't even reach her waist.
Not a word. Not a glance. Not even a whisper. The silhouette continued on its way, unperturbed, even ignoring the accident that had almost occurred. Initially disturbed by what had just happened, Magnolia held back a cry of protest and, intrigued, tried to probe the Warp to observe the small light that had just passed. This moment was as absurd as imagining a firefly shining brighter than a lighthouse, and yet... Carefully approaching the little firefly, Magnolia infiltrated its mind to see what might be hiding there. She was amazed to see an exact replica of Tizca's library, with the same shelves, the same walls, the same stone slabs... The only real difference was that there were far fewer books than in the original. Wandering around the place, stunned by the perfection this mortal had instilled in her mind, she skirted both empty and full shelves, until finally she found the mortal's consciousness, seated in front of an old desk, filling in the blank pages of a book. This singular discovery aroused her curiosity even more. She approached at a snail's pace and glanced over the shoulder of this strange individual before opening her only eye. There, on the paper, were words she knew, for she herself had already read them. The mortal copied and engraved in his mind the works he read, and did so with particular care, annotating certain passages to add his own thoughts. In this way, each book in her mental library constituted not only what she had read, but also the ideas that had grown from it.
Magnolia observed this mortal's consciousness attentively, amazed by what he had achieved, even allowing herself to leaf through some of the works already completed. Some might think that this person was a dullard who existed only through his reading, but there was a brilliant, if shy, mind behind it, preferring to keep his ideas and innovations to himself, whether they were good or bad. As the lines went by, a guilty pleasure sprang up in the Primarch's heart, as she read every thought of this curious little mortal. In a way, he could be just like her, and she saw this as a pleasant reflection in a distorting mirror. However, this same pleasure caused a slight disturbance in Magnolia's psyche which spilled over into the mortal's consciousness. For the first time, his silhouette quivered, attracting the Cyclops' gaze, then he pulled a small diary from a bag at his feet and scribbled the date followed by the simple phrase “feeling watched” before putting it away and resuming his work. Having witnessed all this, Magnolia did her best to regain composure, her curiosity having reached its peak. She bent down to search the bag, found the newspaper and, imitating the silhouette's handwriting, added ‘Thoughts about Primarch Magnolia’ and put the newspaper back in its place before leaving the mortal mind.
Her cheeks slightly redder than usual, the Primarch headed for her palace, ruminating on what had just happened. Why had she done this? How had this scholar managed to arouse her curiosity to such an extent? How was it possible that a mortal could worm his way into her thoughts without them having spoken for even a moment? She had no answer, but one thing was certain: she had to see him again and study him. She wanted to understand how a demigoddess like her could be so distracted by a mortal. The further away she got, the more the image of this hooded scholar haunted her thoughts, and the more a feeling of discomfort slowly gripped her heart, weighing down on her chest. The day passed, and not for a moment were her thoughts neglected by this mysterious scholar, and when night came, devoured by her own thoughts, exhausted by this new sensation compressing her chest, she decided to act. Sailing on the currents of the Immaterium, Magnolia rediscovered the glow of the firefly and once again entered her slumbering mind.
The mortal's dream was one of absolute calm. It was an infinite expanse of calm water, on which he stood amidst creations representing his desires, his plans, his hopes, his family... Everything here was soothing, and Magnolia took the time to observe every detail of each representation, discovering a little more about the personality of this stranger who was no longer completely himself. From time to time, as he fashioned a new representation, the scholar would glance in the direction of the Primarch who was hiding as best he could. A smile would appear on his lips and, in a whisper, he would resume his work, that night erecting an immense block of roughly carved marble. The block was twice the scholar's height, and seemed destined to represent a person whose features and details were as yet undefined. All night long, the mortal shaped his dream, under the curious gaze of the demigoddess. The next day, and the days that followed, she was unable to go to the Great Library, too busy as she was, but every night she would enter the man's mind to spy on his dreams, watching the slow but careful progress of the mysterious statue standing proud. She was spotted a few times, but each time, the mortal smiled and resumed his work in earnest. Was it a coincidence that the greatest advances were made after she had been spotted? This little merry-go-round lasted a few days. And the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months. Every night, the sculpture advanced, representing a woman whose facial features were still indefinable.
When Magnolia received the order to leave from Prospero, she demanded that a certain scholar be taken aboard the Photep, but, unsure of her own actions and refusing to admit her obsession with a civilian, she disguised the whole thing as a mobilisation order for new members of her ship's staff, making sure nonetheless that the object of her obsession was one of the new arrivals. When she saw him set foot on the metal frame, her face lit up, and she couldn't help but enter, once again, into the mind of the man whose absence was causing her such unusual sensations. Rushing over to the desk, she found, as usual, the little man's consciousness writing, yet her eye was focused on the bag at the foot of the desk. She slipped her hand into it, grabbed the newspaper and read all the pages she had missed since her first intrusion, and as the pages and days went by, ‘Thoughts about Primarch Magnolia’ became ‘Sweet thoughts about Primarch Magnolia’. Each day began with ‘Dreamed about Primarch Magnolia. Thoughts about her the day, and dream about her at night. Somehow, it feels nice’. The Cyclops' cheeks took on a slightly darker hue, moved and embarrassed that he was thinking of her too. As she put the newspaper back in the bag, the mortal dipped his hand in and brushed against her skin. He stopped, turned his head and met the Primarch's gaze. Under the shadow of her hood shone two supernaturally blue eyes, but in front of the crimson-pink red face, a huge, shy smile took shape. ‘I hope I won't wake up if it's a dream’ he said. Caught off guard, the Primarch held out her hand and showed him sparkles ‘Hu... Look little Bookworm! A cool spell!’ and then vanished in panic. The next entry in the diary was ‘Daydreamed about the Lady. She was cute.’.
Later that night, Magnolia hesitated to dive into Bookworm's dreams, but she eventually built up enough courage to do it. There, she saw the finished statue. It was a magnificent representation of the demigoddess. Her noble face was imbued with gentleness and affection. It was an expression she had never seen before, and yet seeing it brought a deep warmth to her heart. On the statue, from around her good eye and heart, sigils were engraved, describing in detail and passion the fantasies and thoughts that the scholar harboured about this divinity. There was an overwhelming purity and sincerity, and the more the Primarch read what was there, the more the fire in her chest intensified. She had finally found the answers to her questions, and understood Aurelia much better now: ‘Is this what she called love then?’
Deep within the Warp, a certain Weaver saw a string burning and disappear, then it chuckled ‘Not everyone is promised for a great destiny, but the Destiny watch over everyone.'
Hope you enjoyed it

I read this book in or after college (my early 20s). The book was about a middle aged woman who was scared to turn forty, two or three young college guys who lived in one apartment together, and a couple who seemed perfect from the outside but were very depressed. I think there was also and old man or women. They all lived in the same building and didn’t know each other aside from that. The middle aged woman seemed like a hard ass and every time her boyfriend came over if the college boys would see him one of them would call him “poor fucker”. From what I remember they were foreigners from Poland (or the Check Republic -think Northern Europe). One of the college boys had a horrible girlfriend he would write to or call. She would always belittle him in letters or over the phone. So really he was the “PF”. His roommate was hoping he’d break up with her. Meanwhile the couple presented as happy and sweet. They had been excited to move to this new place. The girl (who I think was Irish and called Maeve) would ride her bike everywhere. I can’t remember exactly but I think it was because of her new job that she was sexually assaulted. It was sort of vaguely hinted at. After that she did not want to be touched by her boyfriend Matt. I think he might have blamed himself because he got bad vibes from the person who did it (I believe her boss or coworker because I believe she had to keep seeing this person) or because it was his idea to move. Maeve stops riding her bike and is understandably a shell of her former self. Eventually the pushing 40s woman realizes she’s pregnant and doesn’t know how to feel about it. She thinks she way too old to have a baby. He boyfriend is unexpectedly happy (from what I remember I think she expected him to freak out). They decide to get married and move out. At the same time the college boys make plans to move since the one guy’s girlfriend is moving to their new country to join him. Matt and Maeve seem like they will break up. This makes one of the spirits very upset. This spirit is sort of hoping from apartment to apartment to see how things unfold. They are simultaneously being chased by this other spirit who seems to be death. The spirit is very scared and knows it’s running out of time. Finally Matt and Maeve lay everything on the table and decide they don’t want to break up. I don’t think it’s explicitly stated but they have sex and this makes the spirit happy and it disappears. I remember how it was laid out but I got the sense the spirit was their unborn child. The other spirit it turns out was their for the old man or woman not the young spirit at all. I believe by they end every character moves out of that building to start their new chapter in their lives.

Surname one: Unique and Italian
Surname two: unusual two word surname (e.g. Greenwood, Rockwell)
Grandmother one ~ FN: popular in 1920’s MN: month/day/season
Grandfather one ~ FN: Italian MN: ends in R
Grandmother two ~ FN: 4 letters MN: Scandinavian
Grandfather two ~ FN: very typical English name MN: Latin
Aunt ~ FN: rare, unheard of name MN: in the top 30 names in 1968
Uncle ~ FN: a name that used to be a boys name but is now usually a girls name MN: begins with P
Boy cousin ~ FN: has a nickname with 2 letters MN: harsh sounding
Girl cousin ~ FN: the name of a mountain MN: 3 syllables
Father ~ FN: nickname MN: means gift
Mother ~ FN: unique flower MN: name from your favourite tv show
Daughter ~ FN: 5 syllables MN: colour name
Son ~ FN: honouring Grandfather one MN: short and sweet
Twin girl one ~ FN: means sky MN: Scandinavian
Twin girl two ~ FN: means sea MN: Scandinavian
Son ~ FN: Rare mythology name MN: name of a brand
Dog ~ FN: feminine form of a male name
Cat ~ FN: ends in -ie

You're still on my mind the same way. I still think of you with a deep love. I got blessed with you, you were and still are my bestfriend, the funniest most interesting. On top of that, you're the most beautiful girl to me, that if in a room full of girls, you without a doubt stand out without needing to do anything at all. From those brown eyes to your smile that radiates goodness and sweetness. You're perfection. Since the beginning we naturally gravitated towards eachother, like magnets. I pray we gravitate in eachother's direction again.... I pray that God allows me to hold your hand and not let go till my last breath, that I get to write you handwritten love letters instead of sending these messages on here.

it’s been a few days since my last letter; i have no clue what to call these rants except for what they are? letters to an abyss of bystanding entities. it makes me so sad that one day all of you will die. this exact fact is the thing that keeps me up every night and tickles tears out of my eyes all the time. i’m tormented and tortured by fatality. one day my mother will die. one day my uncles will die. one day my friends will die. one day my little cousins will die. one day i’ll die. i’ll be forgotten like 50’s actresses that got booked for a single role then never appeared in anything ever again. mortality has been familiar with me since i was a child. one of my earliest (yet funnest?) memories was attending two funerals in one day. the first funeral was for an aunt on my grandmother’s side, and the second was for a cousin on my grandfather’s side. i remember looking at all of the solemn faces as a 7 year old and simply enjoying the fact that all of my family members were hanging out together, understanding that someone has lost their life and will never come back yet not being phased by it. the first funeral i’ve cried at was my father’s. i’m pretty sure i spent that entire day crying. i was 12 when i woke up in the middle of the night to police standing outside of my bedroom door. i peaked through the crack to see so much commotion in the hallway, not knowing what to do or what to think. hours passed before my mother crept my door open with a weak voice telling me that she’d be leaving me in the house alone to go with my father to the hospital. years later she told me that she already knew he was dead based on a feeling in her stomach. that was the first time in my entire life that i had felt such deep and guttural emptiness. i realized that humans weren’t rubber bands that relied on their elasticity to keep their pacemakers on. i realized that i could die at 12 years old.
these thoughts haunted me well into my teenage years, with those years rounding off with my grandmother’s death. she was a stubborn old woman who didn’t want to see any doctors and yelled at anyone who offered her help. i knew that her time was coming close to running over well before she passed, which haunted me. logistically it made sense, but spiritually? it drove me mad. sometimes i manage to convince myself that i can predict people’s deaths in manic delusional states. sometimes i get “an itch”, then start sobbing thinking about how one of my friends is probably dying as i wipe tears from my eyes. i’m haunted by my own intuition and i question it every day. i question if i can control time and death. i question if life is even worth living if im gonna spend every minute of it waiting for the day that the birds chirp in slow motion and my breath hitches at an uncontrollable rate. i’m terrified.
i hate how much these thoughts control me. i would take any pill that allows me to not think about the concept of death for at least one day. at least one hour. at least one minute. why doesn’t anyone else feel the same way i do? people plan their future without any anxiety and i don’t understand it. why are you planning a cruise for 2 years from now when you could possibly crash in your car on the way there? why are you planning on attending undergrad school when you could get shot tomorrow? why are you beginning things that could abruptly end? why are we living just to die? what am i supposed to do with these thoughts? put them inside of my purse and eat them as snacks whenever the government decides that im too old for assistance? do i spit these words into a bottle douce them in alcohol then chug them back inside until i get poisoning and see the light? what do i do with the amount of thoughts that haunt me every night?
i can’t do anything. it’s the most freeing and dismal thing ive had to realize. i still don’t think i realize it because i cry at any thought of an end-of-the-world situation. i can’t do anything and i can’t escape. if there were a way to make people immortal scientists would’ve done it by now. i just have to accept my fate. these thoughts make me feel like a prisoner on death row screaming and pleading for the electric shock to implode on itself as soon as it reaches an inch away from my forehead. i don’t know what to do. i don’t know how to prevent it from making me sad every day. i want out, but i can’t get out. i don’t know how to end this letter. i just want things to get better. i want to come to terms with these thoughts instead of pushing them away. i want to be the average joe. i don’t want mortality to run my life like a big soccer game. i watch the shot clock as i hyperventilate from my bed. i don’t want to go to sleep anymore.
okay well… if there’s one positive note that i can clench onto as a send off it’s that i’m glad that we’ve invented chocolate. it’s the best creation ever. sweet treats. if humans weren’t here then there’d be no chocolate. or at least any as good as the bars i get from the grocery store. i love those. and nutella. and chocolate wafers. i’d die for one of those. i’m happy again. goodnight. sweet dreams my little mortals. we’re all gonna be alright.

I wrote a letter to remind myself to be kinder to oneself as surely this feeling will pass.. right?
Strangers by Correspondence
Neither friends nor strangers, we acquainted ourselves with one another, sharing desires for love that the other dismisses. Tormenting ourselves, we pity our own feelings, attributing the pain to our own making. In the liminal space, she existed before we truly knew her, her upbringing leaving wounds we thought we could heal. All this time, we believed our wait for something more would only lead to inevitable disappointment. The only one to blame is the fool in the mirror; so wipe away the paint and ask yourself: What are you? A kid pretending to be an adult, thinking you can handle it all.
Understandably, we longed for companionship, seeking the kind of relationship we saw in our friends. "When will it be my turn?" we asked, never considering that loneliness would creep up on us, slowly killing us inside. Desperation consumed us during those times, leaving no doubt in our minds.
Then came the day we approached her in class—frightened, confused, and terrified. We didn't know anyone, nor did we want to know anyone. But there she was, an angel—or her name was angel, as her ID said so, sat next to her and a nickname was introduced her otherwise true name —sweet and kind. Yet, it wasn't her looks that drew us in; rather, it was her perseverance and gleeful attitude.
As we saw her more and more, she grew more beautiful with each passing day. Butterflies runs around in our stomachs as we wrote these words, a testament to our delusions. We never intended to pursue someone so intensely, but in our worst moment, we blurted out our feelings in a burst of false confidence a drunken text.
We may have felt like idiots at the time, but we don't regret it. It was the first step towards regaining our confidence. Flattered she was, and hopeful we were. But fate had other plans.
In the end, we still hold on to hope, embodying the essence of the hopeless romantic. She may never see us the way we see her, but we still check up on her, because deep down, we care for her. For what's it worth we formed a bond. Created a safe space between us. We were never friends, nor were we strangers—just acquaintances, bound by fleeting moments of connection.

Today I decided to reread Love in Focus by Yoko Nogiri as a break. It isn’t anywhere close to my favorite, but there are a lot of reasons why I enjoy it and I wanted to ramble about it while the experience is fresh! There's value in stories you like a moderate amount, after all. I got it a while ago because I love shorter manga and omnibuses, and when I spotted a lovely little 3-in-1 collection I had to pick it up.
Even though it's the center of the story, I didn't like the romance itself very much - what I'll talk about below are really the reasons I enjoyed and was interested in this manga despite this! Still, while I'm not a fan of pushier characters like Kei, it was fresh seeing a childhood friend freak out and then actually take action. I'm always a sucker for a sweet and frank girl so I liked Mako, though her feelings felt very "tell not show" to me. Amemura was my personal favorite, and I liked seeing him grow more confident and how his feelings for Mako changed.
To be honest, a big reason why I love it is how pretty it is—the art is clean and beautiful, the paneling flows nicely, and the varied shots with photographs layered in are just so lovely. I also really admired how all the screentones were used. It’s not just the manga itself I find pretty, I really love the lettering too. Japanese and English are two very different languages and that definitely makes it difficult to adapt it in a way that looks natural, but the fonts were so cute and the SFX and occasional notes never felt out of place! I wish that italic serif font was used more in manga. (Entirely possible it is and I’m unaware because I'm no prolific reader.)
The story is full of cliches, and honestly, I'm not sure if people who really want to be convinced of the characters' feelings for one another or the reality of the plot would like it at all, especially since again, much of it felt "tell not show." The plot rolls along with the characters acting on their motivations, then ends happily enough with the characters plainly acknowledging what they've come to realize and how they've grown, and personally, I'm okay and satisfied with that. I think it had a lot of sweet messages and was introspective. The way the chapters were broken up and we got a peek into each character's thoughts is a form of storytelling I adore, and overall it fit perfectly into three volumes.
I really liked how present the supporting characters felt, though they’re never the focus - the dialogue was fun, and they contributed a lot to making the setting feel grounded, I suppose? They each were distinct and I loved that, from Grandpa Sakae to the boarders to the woman that traumatized Amemura. Also, it was amusing to see Kei have Lucas on his side as fellow losers in love, especially when Lucas's own looming obstacle happens to be the fact that she's his brother's wife 😭
Thank you for reading all this rambling. It's nice to be reminded of all the little reasons I enjoy reading manga, because there's just so many. To me, Love in Focus encapsulates the charm of shoujo manga in a lovely way in a quick little story. Now I return to work until another break for sweetness 🫠

Here's an idea for a mod.

• Persistent online world
• You spawn in one of the cities
• You can hunt animals for resources, chop tree's for wood, mine ore etc.
• You can sell there materials to NPC's for gold, or sell them to other players
• With your gold you can rent out one of the houses in a city
• Each city has a bank, you deposit your gold in your bank account
• Rent is taken out every 12 hours (real-world time), if you fail to pay rent you get kicked out.
• There is a skill tree for each profession
  • Blacksmithing
  • Tailoring
  • Woodworking (create furniture)
  • Alchemy
  • etc
• If I am a tailor I might need certain items that only a blacksmith can make (e.g. belt buckle)
• Players rely on trading with other players to get materials they need
• Each city has a marketplace, you can rent out a stall (daily cost) and hire an NPC (daily cost) to sell your items for you, so you can still make money while offline.
• You can also rent out a empty block of land outside of the city where you can build your own house or place of business.
• For example, I can save up enough gold to rent a block of land outside a city and build my self a lumber mill, I can hire some NPC's to go out and chop wood and cart it back to the mill where they will process it into wooden planks and other timber materials, then I can instruct the NPC's to deliver the processed materials into the city and hand them over to my vendor NPC.
• Business is picking up, I make a lot of gold, more and more players are joining the server, rental properties are starting to run out. I rent some more blocks of land and build some houses and rent these out to new players.
• There are NPC service workers such as guards that patrol outside the city to kill wild wolves.
• We as players are unable to fight, so wolves kill us easily.
• There is a tax system where each resident has to pay a daily tax that pays for NPC service workers (such as the guard)
• Players can vote on the tax rate and where the tax money is spent.
• For example players decide to lower the tax rate, this means there's less funding for guards, in turn the wolf population starts to rise and more players die to wolves.
• Other areas tax money can be spent is welfare, new players get a daily pay-check to help them get started.
• When you rent one of your houses out to a player you both sign a contract which looks something like this:
  • John Doe agrees to pay 12 gold per day to Bob Smith
• If John misses 3 payments in a row then Bob has the option of going to the property and removing all of Johns belongings and placing them outside in crates. The door lock is also replaced, now Bob can find a new tenant.
• John will have to go bring a cart to haul away his crates of belongings if he wants to move them into another property.
• John is sent a letter from the court saying he owes Bob 24 gold and the payment is due in 4 days, if he fails to pay he will be arrest by guards and put in court where other players will play the role of jurors. John will have to use VOIP or type out his defence and try and convince the jury to extend his payment due date, otherwise he goes to prison.
• Optionally instead of all players voting like a democracy, one player will be king and they will choose the tax rates.
• Each server has a list of laws that the king can change.
  • Tax rate %
  • After how many missed payments can a Landlord evict the tenant
  • How many guards are currently hired
  • Welfare pay-check
• If the community are not happy with the king they can cast a vote to dethrone him. Once this happens an election period start that lasts 3 hours. In this period any player can register them selves as a candidate to become king, they have 3 hours to go around to each other player and sweet talk them to convince them to vote for them.
• After 3 hours the vote is cast and a new king is in place.

You make pretty regrettable mistakes when you're desperate. Unfortunately, desperation would go on to cost me much more than I ever thought possible.
When I was 19 years old my financial situation wasn't great. In what was left of a crumbling home would be my recovering addict twin sister, and myself. The unfortunate state of our home was all from the even more unfortunate passing of our parents just four years prior. The two hadn't died tragically by any means, thankfully. No.. our parents died of old age, a consequence of having us kids later in life, while not being able to take on the financial burden that would be.. us.
My sister was making the early steps into the college lifestyle, doing her best to stay afloat with my support in funding. Money was tight for the two of us, but as she became more well off on her own, the more content she was with severing the last remaining tie to her childhood.. me.
I didn't hate Xel for her decision, if anything I understood her distancing from this life.. even if it saddened me. So then it was just me! Left to a house with a hole in the ceiling. Believe it or not, life wasn't all to bad even with how considerably down in the dumps it otherwise seemed to be.
However, content as I might have been, it's human nature to want more than you have. Can't say I was to greedy to look for some comfortability in my own home..
And so there it was! The glistening letters of ink outlining my salvation. An advertisement I'd found plastered onto the wall of the small booth I sat at while I waited for the bus to carry me off to work. "$5,000 to those compatible for a recent scientific breakthrough." Under any 'normal' circumstances I would consider this a scam. Hell, I was skeptical as I scanned the letters. Had I been told of this opportunity through spam call or text I would've glossed right over it just as anyone else would have.. but I was desperate.
I think it was the fact that someone, some real person had to have put this paper up on this wall gave me some glimmer of hope for a quick cash grab. Listed bellow the promise of money was details for a number to call regarding interest in the proposition.
I took the bait.. I saw the line, and like some idiot I clamped my teeth down just for that hook to sweep me away.
The corporation I'd come to know as, "The Arsaction," would see me just a week later. There was a brief consultation. They took my weight, age, all things I would've expected. It wasn't until they pulled records regarding my familial situation that I began to find this whole ordeal.. suspicious.
To 'begin' to find things suspicious only at this point is foolish, something I full understand, but I feel the need to reinforce the fact that I, Lex McKarthy, was desperate.
Everything by this point seemed pretty legit. The blood tests, the doctors office, the tests were.. reasonable. What was I to suspect? Everything was so vague, and truth be told I honestly didn't even expect anything to come of this visit. All the doctors, all the consultants seemed so disinterested in my features.. but when they realized I had no one, everything seemed to change.
Suddenly ears perked, suddenly doors closed, suddenly I was.. exactly what they were looking for. Every feature of myself was so painfully average. I was anyman, I was.. nothing. Despite their best efforts to be discreate, I knew it was only the fact that nobody would come looking for me that peaked their interests.
My stomach dropped when I was faced with a pen in my hand, trembling over that NDA. Every fiber of me cursed myself for never considering putting just a minute of research into 'The Arsaction,' however a video briefing would ease my nerves. Nobody knew who The Arsaction was. There was no public record of their existence, and that NDA would make sure that they continued to never exist.
I was stupid, I was irrational, I was in over my head! But I was desperate.. and I had nothing else.
"I have nothing else.. I have nothing else!"
It was a mantra I chanted as I was injected with that substance. The substance that turned my blood orange, made my skin freakishly thin.
And then I went home.
That was it. I was given my sum of money, and I was sent home. They told me I was, "good to go," and no number of questions would get a one of them to speak. I was only met with who I'd assume to be security guiding me out of the building.
Not a word more of what I'd just been injected with, only given instructions to not dwell on mirrors for too long. That was it, just some ominous instructions. So I left, as befuddled as I arrived. Relief washed over me as I made my way home. The anxiety I'd received from such an ominous buildup was all waved by the fact that I was somehow just.. good to go?
Relief quickly turned to panic as the inherent nature of it all being too good to be true set in. I expected to die, I expected some visit from government agents, I expected anything and everything, but as months turned to years.. Nothing ever came of it. No mirror ever caused me any harm, which was its own anxiety I'd have to overcome simply because of the absurd nature or such a request.
I hoped it was.. some prank. Everything was well... for a time. Of course to disturb my peace, my sister called.
I just.. watched the phone ring. My sister, someone who I hadn't spoken to in upwards of 8 years was suddenly ringing me up. When I finally had answered, her question left me speechless.
"Hey Lex. would you happen to remember Mom's recipe for that egg toast? I think I left the cookbook at your place."
I felt my ears ring. The question was so.. casual. She entirely skipped the part where we discussed how she's been, how I'm doing. She spoke to me like we'd hung out only days ago.
At the time I'd thought I was just being dramatic, but looking back on it I can only justify my own hesitation to respond.
"W-..what?"
I stammered like a fool, but I was firm in my disbelief.
"Yeah, it should be in the book on the counter?"
I looked over my shoulder to my kitchen counter, past the toaster I never bought, and over to the book she spoke of. My jaw hung heavy, the whole interaction feeling like a dream.
With one hand I held the phone, and with the other I began to skim the pages of the book letting my eyes linger on mom's cinnamon roll recipe for a bit longer than intended.
"Lex.. are you ok?"
My sister inquired on the other end. I suddenly felt sick.. falling the the ground and laying on my back. This wasn't happening.
"Lex? Are you alright!?"
My sister repeated back more urgently, followed by her assurance that she would be over soon to check on me. But.. no company ever arrived. After hours the line just dropped, and I fell asleep there on that cold, wooden floor, paralyzed with a feeling I couldn't wrap my head around.
When I finally gathered the composure to stand I would try to call Xel back. A frown dawned my face when she never answered. Somehow this didn’t surprise me, and I was lead to believe that she had never called me in the first place. The thing is, the book was still on my counter, and her call was still logged on my phone.
Still, I hadn’t known Xel to do something like this. It wasn’t in her nature to do something so cruel, to act like all this time hadn’t passed.
But it has. Years have gone by and nothing but radio silence from her, a silence I feared would go on. The following days I would continue to attempt to call her, but to no avail.
I had to come to terms with the fact that, as quickly as she had returned too my life, Xel was once again gone. I’m ashamed to admit that, just as I’d forgotten that experience with The Arsaction several years ago, I’d forgotten about my own sister.
Even if she wouldn’t call back, I was inspired to begin looking through old family pictures, and this is where the oddities would start to fester.
I found a picture of Xel and I just.. eating breakfast. Usually my mom was off to work by then, but it was a special occasion. It was a day I remember so vividly. I was 14 years old at this time, and had awoke to the sweet smell of cinnamon rolls filling the air. After all, it was Xel’s and I’s birthday. All was right with the world, all as I climbed from the messy sheets in my dark room. It was abundantly clear that the bulb of the light beside my bed had burnt out over the course of the night, and the closed blinds didn't aid my vision as I stumbled around my room in search of my door.
An oddity presented itself in the fashion of aimless wondering. Where was the nob? One I'd become so accustomed to.. not needing to open? I'd never closed my door. Not the previous night, not ever. Not to the behest of my mother who'd always taken annoyance to closed doors, some trait of my grandmother's to which my mom had unfortunately inherited.
Breakfast took the form of two strips of bacon, scrambled eggs, and slightly burnt French-Toast. My previous assumption of cinnamon rolls unfortunately missed the mark, however I wouldn't object to this. I wish I could convince myself that I was wrong. Something so mundane, something so insignificant to the events in this story, however the first notable instance of a curse that I couldn't pinpoint
My mother had already seen herself off to work by this point, and so I was faced with the responsibilities of seeing myself out to the bus. Some routine I'd become far too used to; The minutes passed, leaving me with nothing to do but wait by the door for a buss that would never arrive.
If the door being shut and the cinnamon rolls being a different meal entirely had left me with a minor confusion, then suddenly being seated in the passenger seat of my mother's car listening to the nonchalant complaints from my twin sister about the nuances freshmen year math shot me into a disarray I couldn't possibly quantify.
I think one of the scariest things for me is the fact that I thought nothing of it. I hadn't freaked out. No scene was made to express what should have been one of the more disturbing instances of my childhood.
I could chalk up the mistaking breakfast for something else as me just misremembering events.. But something unmistakable is the fact that somehow my mom both never drove me to school, yet the fact that she.. always had.
If you're confused, I understand. I am too, because the contradicting nature of my memory is something that haunts me to no end.
Things were easier as a child. That's often the case, but ever sense I stopped aging, I've begun to notice the oddities presented by life that are.. inexplainable. I'm not even sure where to start with researching my predicament.
The Mandela Effect is something that I feel needs no introduction. To those who don't know, the Mandela Effect, in brief, is a phenomenon that incurs when you "misremember" something. Think of a card, now imagine you saw that card as a child and it had a single heart drawn on it's center. Now, years later you are discussing this card with someone else just for them to tell you that the heart you swear, the heart you KNOW you saw.. was a diamond. You tell them they are wrong, you shake your head, chuckle nervously.. But then they present you with the card.
Your stomach drops. This can't be the card, there is no way! Only it is the card, and when you come to the realization that it is in fact the card you'd seen as a child, you are filled with a mix of confusion, fascination, and quite possibly denial.
Most often, the Mandela Effect is associated with silly things like books titles, and board game mascots, but my experience is far beyond such things. It's the only phenomenon I've found that seems even within the realm of explaining my predicament. Problem is, the more I think, the more is wrong.
All of me wishes it all ended with that one childhood experience! But it didn't. In fact, the more I consider my childhood, the more contradictions I notice. Part of me believes I could handle this if it was limited to my childhood, but it's not. This.. experience... It effects my every day!
I'm not losing my mind, I'm just picking up crumbs that I never dropped. Not.. losing my mind, just finding more "mind" than the inventory should account for.
As I stop and think now, I’m understanding that my memories are.. overlapping. Other mirrored versions of myself and my memories will occasionally cross paths, and when they do it causes me to misremember. Not because I don’t remember, but because my memories conflict with one another.
I wish I could see someone about this, but I’m worried the consequences of me seeking someone out.. still, we make dumb mistakes when we are desperate, and I’m starting to feel desperate again.

You make pretty regrettable mistakes when you're desperate. Unfortunately, desperation would go on to cost me much more than I ever thought possible.
When I was 19 years old my financial situation wasn't great. In what was left of a crumbling home would be my recovering addict twin sister, and myself. The unfortunate state of our home was all from the even more unfortunate passing of our parents just four years prior. The two hadn't died tragically by any means, thankfully. No.. our parents died of old age, a consequence of having us kids later in life, while not being able to take on the financial burden that would be.. us.
My sister was making the early steps into the college lifestyle, doing her best to stay afloat with my support in funding. Money was tight for the two of us, but as she became more well off on her own, the more content she was with severing the last remaining tie to her childhood.. me.
I didn't hate Xel for her decision, if anything I understood her distancing from this life.. even if it saddened me. So then it was just me! Left to a house with a hole in the ceiling. Believe it or not, life wasn't all to bad even with how considerably down in the dumps it otherwise seemed to be.
However, content as I might have been, it's human nature to want more than you have. Can't say I was to greedy to look for some comfortability in my own home..
And so there it was! The glistening letters of ink outlining my salvation. An advertisement I'd found plastered onto the wall of the small booth I sat at while I waited for the bus to carry me off to work. "$5,000 to those compatible for a recent scientific breakthrough." Under any 'normal' circumstances I would consider this a scam. Hell, I was skeptical as I scanned the letters. Had I been told of this opportunity through spam call or text I would've glossed right over it just as anyone else would have.. but I was desperate.
I think it was the fact that someone, some real person had to have put this paper up on this wall gave me some glimmer of hope for a quick cash grab. Listed bellow the promise of money was details for a number to call regarding interest in the proposition.
I took the bait.. I saw the line, and like some idiot I clamped my teeth down just for that hook to sweep me away.
The corporation I'd come to know as, "The Arsaction," would see me just a week later. There was a brief consultation. They took my weight, age, all things I would've expected. It wasn't until they pulled records regarding my familial situation that I began to find this whole ordeal.. suspicious.
To 'begin' to find things suspicious only at this point is foolish, something I full understand, but I feel the need to reinforce the fact that I, Lex McKarthy, was desperate.
Everything by this point seemed pretty legit. The blood tests, the doctors office, the tests were.. reasonable. What was I to suspect? Everything was so vague, and truth be told I honestly didn't even expect anything to come of this visit. All the doctors, all the consultants seemed so disinterested in my features.. but when they realized I had no one, everything seemed to change.
Suddenly ears perked, suddenly doors closed, suddenly I was.. exactly what they were looking for. Every feature of myself was so painfully average. I was anyman, I was.. nothing. Despite their best efforts to be discreate, I knew it was only the fact that nobody would come looking for me that peaked their interests.
My stomach dropped when I was faced with a pen in my hand, trembling over that NDA. Every fiber of me cursed myself for never considering putting just a minute of research into 'The Arsaction,' however a video briefing would ease my nerves. Nobody knew who The Arsaction was. There was no public record of their existence, and that NDA would make sure that they continued to never exist.
I was stupid, I was irrational, I was in over my head! But I was desperate.. and I had nothing else.
"I have nothing else.. I have nothing else!"
It was a mantra I chanted as I was injected with that substance. The substance that turned my blood orange, made my skin freakishly thin.
And then I went home.
That was it. I was given my sum of money, and I was sent home. They told me I was, "good to go," and no number of questions would get a one of them to speak. I was only met with who I'd assume to be security guiding me out of the building.
Not a word more of what I'd just been injected with, only given instructions to not dwell on mirrors for too long. That was it, just some ominous instructions. So I left, as befuddled as I arrived. Relief washed over me as I made my way home. The anxiety I'd received from such an ominous buildup was all waved by the fact that I was somehow just.. good to go?
Relief quickly turned to panic as the inherent nature of it all being too good to be true set in. I expected to die, I expected some visit from government agents, I expected anything and everything, but as months turned to years.. Nothing ever came of it. No mirror ever caused me any harm, which was its own anxiety I'd have to overcome simply because of the absurd nature or such a request.
I hoped it was.. some prank. Everything was well... for a time. Of course to disturb my peace, my sister called.
I just.. watched the phone ring. My sister, someone who I hadn't spoken to in upwards of 8 years was suddenly ringing me up. When I finally had answered, her question left me speechless.
"Hey Lex. would you happen to remember Mom's recipe for that egg toast? I think I left the cookbook at your place."
I felt my ears ring. The question was so.. casual. She entirely skipped the part where we discussed how she's been, how I'm doing. She spoke to me like we'd hung out only days ago.
At the time I'd thought I was just being dramatic, but looking back on it I can only justify my own hesitation to respond.
"W-..what?"
I stammered like a fool, but I was firm in my disbelief.
"Yeah, it should be in the book on the counter?"
I looked over my shoulder to my kitchen counter, past the toaster I never bought, and over to the book she spoke of. My jaw hung heavy, the whole interaction feeling like a dream.
With one hand I held the phone, and with the other I began to skim the pages of the book letting my eyes linger on mom's cinnamon roll recipe for a bit longer than intended.
"Lex.. are you ok?"
My sister inquired on the other end. I suddenly felt sick.. falling the the ground and laying on my back. This wasn't happening.
"Lex? Are you alright!?"
My sister repeated back more urgently, followed by her assurance that she would be over soon to check on me. But.. no company ever arrived. After hours the line just dropped, and I fell asleep there on that cold, wooden floor, paralyzed with a feeling I couldn't wrap my head around.
When I finally gathered the composure to stand I would try to call Xel back. A frown dawned my face when she never answered. Somehow this didn’t surprise me, and I was lead to believe that she had never called me in the first place. The thing is, the book was still on my counter, and her call was still logged on my phone.
Still, I hadn’t known Xel to do something like this. It wasn’t in her nature to do something so cruel, to act like all this time hadn’t passed.
But it has. Years have gone by and nothing but radio silence from her, a silence I feared would go on. The following days I would continue to attempt to call her, but to no avail.
I had to come to terms with the fact that, as quickly as she had returned too my life, Xel was once again gone. I’m ashamed to admit that, just as I’d forgotten that experience with The Arsaction several years ago, I’d forgotten about my own sister.
Even if she wouldn’t call back, I was inspired to begin looking through old family pictures, and this is where the oddities would start to fester.
I found a picture of Xel and I just.. eating breakfast. Usually my mom was off to work by then, but it was a special occasion. It was a day I remember so vividly. I was 14 years old at this time, and had awoke to the sweet smell of cinnamon rolls filling the air. After all, it was Xel’s and I’s birthday. All was right with the world, all as I climbed from the messy sheets in my dark room. It was abundantly clear that the bulb of the light beside my bed had burnt out over the course of the night, and the closed blinds didn't aid my vision as I stumbled around my room in search of my door.
An oddity presented itself in the fashion of aimless wondering. Where was the nob? One I'd become so accustomed to.. not needing to open? I'd never closed my door. Not the previous night, not ever. Not to the behest of my mother who'd always taken annoyance to closed doors, some trait of my grandmother's to which my mom had unfortunately inherited.
Breakfast took the form of two strips of bacon, scrambled eggs, and slightly burnt French-Toast. My previous assumption of cinnamon rolls unfortunately missed the mark, however I wouldn't object to this. I wish I could convince myself that I was wrong. Something so mundane, something so insignificant to the events in this story, however the first notable instance of a curse that I couldn't pinpoint
My mother had already seen herself off to work by this point, and so I was faced with the responsibilities of seeing myself out to the bus. Some routine I'd become far too used to; The minutes passed, leaving me with nothing to do but wait by the door for a buss that would never arrive.
If the door being shut and the cinnamon rolls being a different meal entirely had left me with a minor confusion, then suddenly being seated in the passenger seat of my mother's car listening to the nonchalant complaints from my twin sister about the nuances freshmen year math shot me into a disarray I couldn't possibly quantify.
I think one of the scariest things for me is the fact that I thought nothing of it. I hadn't freaked out. No scene was made to express what should have been one of the more disturbing instances of my childhood.
I could chalk up the mistaking breakfast for something else as me just misremembering events.. But something unmistakable is the fact that somehow my mom both never drove me to school, yet the fact that she.. always had.
If you're confused, I understand. I am too, because the contradicting nature of my memory is something that haunts me to no end.
Things were easier as a child. That's often the case, but ever sense I stopped aging, I've begun to notice the oddities presented by life that are.. inexplainable. I'm not even sure where to start with researching my predicament.
The Mandela Effect is something that I feel needs no introduction. To those who don't know, the Mandela Effect, in brief, is a phenomenon that incurs when you "misremember" something. Think of a card, now imagine you saw that card as a child and it had a single heart drawn on it's center. Now, years later you are discussing this card with someone else just for them to tell you that the heart you swear, the heart you KNOW you saw.. was a diamond. You tell them they are wrong, you shake your head, chuckle nervously.. But then they present you with the card.
Your stomach drops. This can't be the card, there is no way! Only it is the card, and when you come to the realization that it is in fact the card you'd seen as a child, you are filled with a mix of confusion, fascination, and quite possibly denial.
Most often, the Mandela Effect is associated with silly things like books titles, and board game mascots, but my experience is far beyond such things. It's the only phenomenon I've found that seems even within the realm of explaining my predicament. Problem is, the more I think, the more is wrong.
All of me wishes it all ended with that one childhood experience! But it didn't. In fact, the more I consider my childhood, the more contradictions I notice. Part of me believes I could handle this if it was limited to my childhood, but it's not. This.. experience... It effects my every day!
I'm not losing my mind, I'm just picking up crumbs that I never dropped. Not.. losing my mind, just finding more "mind" than the inventory should account for.
As I stop and think now, I’m understanding that my memories are.. overlapping. Other mirrored versions of myself and my memories will occasionally cross paths, and when they do it causes me to misremember. Not because I don’t remember, but because my memories conflict with one another.
I wish I could see someone about this, but I’m worried the consequences of me seeking someone out.. still, we make dumb mistakes when we are desperate, and I’m starting to feel desperate again.

Me (18F) and my former friend (18M) have known each other for 5 years. We were super close, it's the kind of relationship you don't get over. We never dated, but it was clear that we both had feelings for each other, and we flirted quite a bit. Anyways things were great until 3 years in. We had a ton of fights. Essentially, he was controlling, jealous, and emotionally manipulative. He got mad at me for texting a former friend of ours, demanding to see our texts and yelling at me. He often got involved in my life, and continued to do so even after I set clear boundaries. That's when I knew I had to get out. So I distanced myself a lot. September comes and unfortunately, we're in the same class. He texts me a day before school starts, asking to fix things. I told him we could just move on, and he happily agreed. Turns out I didn't know just how much pain he caused. I realized that if we were ever going to be close again, I needed to talk about things (which he had wanted in the first place). I told him this, and he agreed. His schedule was tight, so it was hard to find time, but I was patient with him. I kept reminding him, and he kept blowing me off. 3 months go by, and I'm done waiting. So I tell him that I'm done waiting on him, and he shouldn't have agreed to talk if he didn't really want to. He didn't like that. From then on he would often shove me in the halls, brush by me, or bump into me. It was enough that we both knew what he was doing, but subtle enough to be seen as a mistake. Then, a few weeks after I had surgery, he pins me against the wall. I was trapped. I thrashed in place, trying to force my way out but he held me there harder. That was the most scared I've ever been. So naturally after all this, I requested not to be in his class next year. I wasn't, until a month in when I was reorganized into his class. How fun. Something I also didn't mention is that his actions caused me to have severe depression and to go to therapy. We haven't interacted too much. We're in the same friend group, so we've gone out maybe 5 times but it wasn't too bad. I asked him this February if we could talk again, because stuff has really been weighing on me and it's been hard to see the person who caused me all this trauma every day. He essentially said that it would feel weird, and he didn't really want to. He asked if that was okay, and I stupidly said yes because I didn't want to push his boundaries. I'm on the road to healing, after two years of agonizing pain. In one month, I'll never have to see him again. It's a really weird feeling. I know he's been an asshole to me recently, but he used to be really sweet and caring before. He genuinely wanted to fix things, and owned up to his mistakes. I wanted to do something to say goodbye, because this was a huge experience for both of us. I know he just wanted to protect me, and he didn't mean to hurt me. I truly believe he was a good person, he just had bad execution. I want to write him a letter, acknowledging that and kind of saying goodbye. Closing this chapter. It's a gut feeling, it just feels right. I still have some feelings for him though, and I don't know if my judgement is clouded or not so I wanted some unbiased opions. Should I give him the letter? Should it be more about how he hurt me, or how he had good intentions and acknowledging our relationship? Thank you!! Tldr: I (19F) met my friend (19M) 5 years ago. We were super close and flirted a lot, though clearly never dated. He started to get controlling and manipulative, so I distanced myself from him. We were in the same class, so we agreed to move on. A month later I realized that wasn't an option, and I needed to talk about stuff. He agreed, then blew me off for 3 months, proceeding to pin me against the wall. I requested not to be in his class, but I still am. I asked to talk again this year, and he refused. I want to give him a goodbye letter though, saying briefly how he hurt me, but also acknowledging our relationship. My gut says it's right, but my judgement is clouded with feelings right now, and I need unbiased perspectives. I truly believe he was a good person, just had bad execution. Should I give him the letter? Should it be more about how he hurt me, or how he had good intentions and acknowledging our relationship? Thank you!!

Seven ravens go with Arianne Martell to be Doran's eyes and ears to Aegon and the Golden Company in the Stormlands. And while Arianne's journey progresses she will likely need to make a choice... will she send the word 'dragon' home in a letter, the coded word asking for Dorne to call their spears and join Aegon's cause? Or will the word be 'war'? (...in this case 'war' means 'wait')... I'll let you decide - I assume most people's minds are pretty set on this point, and mine own is not really standard canon, so I will only say the last raven seems an ill omened thing as the seventh of a set is often linked to The Stranger, Westeros' god of death.
The topic I hoped to brainstorm today is not actually about what Arianne decides... but rather what happens next. Because I notice with a lot of theories the assumption is that the Dornish houses waiting on Arianne's response will march in lockstep with whatever her and Doran's order is... but... will they? Some of the Dornish houses seem pretty independent-minded and I feel there's been some fairly significant foreshadowing emerging that Doran's hold over the the kingdom is only tentative at best. That's worth discussing... In particular three houses seem to repeatedly stand out as possibilities to challenge the peace regardless of the Martells' wishes: Houses Yronwood, Fowler, and Uller....

House Fowler 🪶

The Fowlers make their home at Skyreach, a castle with a lofty perch and soaring stone towers carved into the stone slopes of the Red Mountains overlooking the Prince's Pass, one of two major overland routes into Dorne, and the easier to traverse of the two (the other being the steep and treacherous Boneway). The House is led by Lord Franklyn Fowler 'the Old Hawk', who has two twin daughters - Jeyne and Jennelyn. What could cause House Fowler to rebel against the Martells' orders?
Sign #1 - The Fowlers closeness with Lady Nym
Oberyn's death was a rallying cry for a lot of Dorne desiring vengeance against the Lannisters, and in particular the news greatly effected the Sand Snakes - Nymeria Sand is said to be 'famously' close with the Fowler twins, she was actually with them the moment she learned of Oberyn's death, and it follows they likely sympathize with her position. In fact when Lady Nym first pitches Doran her plan to assassinate key Lannisters in King's Landing she does so by pleading the Fowler house words to him: "You know the Fowler words? Let Me Soar! That is all I ask of you. Let me soar, Uncle. I need no mighty host, only one sweet sister." And Doran would later tell Arianne that Nym is 'too close to the Fowler twins' (and thus unable to keep secrets from them). I imagine the Fowlers did not take the news well when they learned of Nymeria's imprisonment afterwards...
Sign #2 - Arianne's plea to Lord Fowler
Then when Arianne Martell is imprisoned herself after her Queenmaker plot she attempts to send out a secret message with one of her attendants to plead for help to free her from her father's grasp. She considers different options to address this letter to, someone ideally receptive to the idea of rebelling against Doran (which is no small thing to ask!) but also powerful enough to do so. Her first thoughts drift to Yronwood, but decides against them only because they fostered Quentyn and she believes he and Anders are conspiring against her, then goes through a few of the houses of her friends before finally deciding "that she had but two real hopes: Harmen Uller, Lord of Hellholt, and Franklyn Fowler, Lord of Skyreach and Warden of the Prince's Pass."
She ultimately decides to pen the letter to Lord Fowler because she thinks the Ullers as half-mad to the point of having a dangerous response. After that the attendant Cedra is presumably caught by Doran's men as she never reappears and Areo tells us that she was sent to the Water Gardens. But even without the letter actually going out the fact that she chose Lord Fowler to send this plea to probably says a lot about their overall relationship with Doran.
Sign #3 - A Toast to Tommen
In the Watcher chapter during the presentation of The Mountain's skull a toast to Tommen is made, and those who choose to drink or to refuse it give us another indication of the sentiments around Dorne... this is not subtly implied as much as it is directly pointed out by Areo:

The white knight did drink, as was only courteous. His companions likewise. So did the Princess Arianne, Lady Jordayne, the Lord of Godsgrace, the Knight of Lemonwood, the Lady of Ghost Hill … even Ellaria Sand, Prince Oberyn's beloved paramour, who had been with him in King's Landing when he died. Hotah paid more note to those who did not drink: Ser Daemon Sand, Lord Tremond Gargalen, the Fowler twins, Dagos Manwoody, the Ullers of the Hellholt, the Wyls of the Boneway. If there is trouble, it could start with one of them. Dorne was an angry and divided land, and Prince Doran's hold on it was not as firm as it might be. Many of his own lords thought him weak and would have welcomed open war with the Lannisters and the boy king on the Iron Throne.

Again the Fowler twins and Ullers show us that they still hold a lot of resentment. Daemon Sand makes sense too - he was part of Oberyn's retinue in King's Landing (sometimes rumored to have had a relationship with him) and watched him die, and after the Sand Snakes were imprisoned he went to Sunspear to demand their release and was imprisoned himself for the trouble. I'd keep an eye on him in Arianne's plot.
The Yronwoods weren't in attendance for the toast, however the Wyls were and refused it - I get the sense they are pretty close with the Yronwoods, both of which have their houses on the Boneway where they've joined forces. Another party that refused the toast, the Manwoodys, are stationed in the Prince's Pass and likely close allies with the Fowlers - lending more weight to the idea that this area is rebellious. House Gargelene is the one that's most difficult to place, being located in a fairly isolated spot in the south of Dorne at Salt Shore.
Sign #4 - The Troops in the Passes
By Arianne's TWOW excerpts we also hear that the troops in the Prince's Pass and the Boneway are becoming restless:

In the Boneway and the Prince’s Pass, two Dornish hosts had massed, and there they sat, sharpening their spears, polishing their armor, dicing, drinking, quarreling, their numbers dwindling by the day, waiting, waiting, waiting for the Prince of Dorne to loose them on the enemies of House Martell.

Darkstar's Plot
So how might the Fowlers act out? Outside of Arianne's raven being sent (and depending on the result), I think we should be keeping an eye on the Darkstar plot. Darkstar, per his own words and actions, seems to want to start a war against the crown and has presumably fled back to his home of High Hermitage in the Red Mountains where its implied he has support. He will probably pass by Starfall on the way up the Torrentine's rushing waters, but the Prince's Pass and Skyreach are both not that far from his location and in fitting with the prior indications of the Fowlers' intentions and Darkstar's overall goals he may try to incite the already anxious troops there to raid the Dornish Marches. These houses have a long history of animosity towards the Reach and Marcher Lords whose defenses will be exposed with Euron's attacks. Such an assault could parallel prior rogue leaders the Vulture Kings.

House Uller 🏜️

We've already seen that the Ullers play out somewhat similarly to the Fowlers - they were one of the major considerations for Arianne to send her plea for help to, and they were one of the parties notably refusing Tommen's toast. Lord Harmen Uller is the current Lord of the Hellholt, "a grim, stinking seat beside the sulfurous yellow waters of the Brimstone" located near the deep sands in the centesouth of Dorne.
There is a saying in Dorne we are told: 'half the Ullers are 'half-mad and the other half are worse.' And as Ellaria Sand is Lord Harmen's natural daughter when she and her little ones (Elia, Obella, Dorea, and Loreza) were locked away with the rest of the Sand Snakes Arianne thinks this would 'have made Lord Harmen wroth, and the Ullers were dangerous when wroth.' Its worth noting that in Arianne's Queenmaker plot her end goal was to get to Hellholt to officially crown Myrcella and raise her banners there...
What's interesting about Uller is that while they have a lot of reason to rebel there is at least one pacifying force headed their way - Ellaria Sand (who is also bringing Loreza with her). Ellaria sand accepted the toast to Tommen and despite having been Oberyn's paramour and closer to him than anyone as well as being there for his death, she is actually one of the strongest voices arguing for peace.

"A start?" said Ellaria Sand, incredulous. "Gods forbid. I would it were a finish. Tywin Lannister is dead. So are Robert Baratheon, Amory Lorch, and now Gregor Clegane, all those who had a hand in murdering Elia and her children. Even Joffrey, who was not yet born when Elia died. I saw the boy perish with mine own eyes, clawing at his throat as he tried to draw a breath. Who else is there to kill? Do Myrcella and Tommen need to die so the shades of Rhaenys and Aegon can be at rest? Where does it end?"

A Hidden Hellholt Chapter?
Given the Hellholts relative isolation you might be thinking how this could factor further into the plot.... maybe some news of Ellaria's daughters? Or later on if there is an invading force (as Ellaria and Doran fear is coming)? But I've actually been thinking that before Areo Hotah shows up in the Red Mountains we may get to see a chapter with him and Obara and Balon Swann at the Hellholt with Ellaria and Lord Harmen Uller, it would be rewarding to catch up with these characters and see their clashing perspectives on vengeance and Areo on the trail of Darkstar. Per some recent analysis of GRRM's chapter hints we can also kind of conclude there may be a few Areo chapters in varying locations. Another interesting thing pointing me in that direction is the soon to be released 2025 calendar which will be featuring artwork of the Hellholt... that's a strange inclusion for a castle with few mentions (the most relevant of which being Rhaenys' mysterious death long ago), and a lot of the other locations on the calendar do suspiciously have relevant plots nearing them in Winds (so if we haven't seen them already we may do so soon).
The logistics work out pretty well as Hellholt is practically a necessary stop on the way westward to the Red Mountains by land. Even though Arianne herself knows the desert well....

Beyond Vaith the deep sands waited. They would need help from Sandstone and the Hellholt to make that crossing, but she did not doubt that it would be forthcoming.

...Even she fears to tread the deep sands alone... and for Obara it may be the same despite her experience. You really should have a desert guide to locate water sources and navigate the terrain ("In the deep sands a man must hoard his water."). And one of the last safe stops for water and guides is the Hellholt making it invaluable for travelers crossing the sands. The sandstorms seem especially dangerous:

[...]beyond Vaith, western Dorne is naught but a vast sea of restless dunes where the sun beats down relentlessly, giving rise from time to time to savage sandstorms that can strip the flesh from a man's bones within minutes.

House Yronwood ⛓️

The Yronwoods are Dorne's second strongest house and their seat is located up in the high meadows of the Red Mountains near the Boneway where the air is always crisp and cool after dark, no matter how hot the day had been. Anders Yronwood, the Bloodroyal, is the leader here.
Even though previously we've seen a few signs that the Yronwoods may rebel given their brief consideration for Arianne's letter for help, and the Wyls' refusal of Tommen's toast, the biggest reason for them to strike out on their own might be their uniquely fractious relationship with the Martells (they also have a long rivalry with the Fowlers). In fact, we were told Yronwood was only just recently on the verge of rebellion after Oberyn allegedly poisoned Lord Edgar Yronwood in a duel after he was found abed with Edgar's paramour, and it was only Doran's quick thinking that avoided it.

Blood feud and rebellion would surely have followed Lord Edgar's death, had not her father acted at once. The Red Viper went to Oldtown, thence across to the narrow sea to Lys, though none dared call it exile. And in due time, Quentyn was given to Lord Anders to foster as a sign of trust. That helped to heal the breach between Sunspear and the Yronwoods, but it had opened new ones between Quentyn and the Sand Snakes...

Quentyn Aftermath & The Blackfyres
And the biggest thing that may reopen that wound is, not surprisingly, news of Quentyn's voyage. Anders Yronwood has lost two sons on what could be seen as a pretty foolish attempt to court Daenerys including his son and heir Cletus Yronwood, who was sent along on the voyage and died from a corsair attack off the coast of the Disputed Lands. The other son? Quentyn Martell himself.... despite him being a Martell, he is really more Yronwood at heart. He grew up in Yronwood with Anders, his best friend was Cletus, he became smitten with his eldest daughter Ynys (who is now heir to Yronwood), and then later fell in love with Gwyneth, the youngest daughter of Anders.... All of Quentyn's memories are with the Yronwood really and Arianne even notes he is somewhat a stranger to her and Sunspear. Doran himself is forced to admit that "Anders Yronwood has been more a father to him than I have".
Anders hasn't heard anything yet from Meereen, information moves slowly in Essos (which has no messenger ravens so it needs to be carried by hand) and most of the people who can pass on that message, like Arch and Drink, are still caught up in the Battle of Fire (and hoping that the Tattered Prince will be merciful to them for their previous desertion). Any news that might get back could end up with a distorted and unflattering picture of Daenerys too (and some of that fallout may carryover to Aegon who seeks to ally with her).
But even before it does the troops commanded by the Yronwoods in the Boneway are conveniently close to the events happening in the Stormlands with the Golden Company. And the Yronwoods have been suspiciously consistent partners of the Golden Company and Blackfyres in the past (which often drew in second houses with a lot to gain), which is all the more interesting given the rumors around Aegon ("Lords of Yronwood rode for the black dragon in no less than three of the five Blackfyre Rebellions.") So if Arianne seeks to side with Aegon and JonCon the Yronwoods might be the first to throw in with that cause... especially if its also a way to oppose Mace Tyrell given his hatred of all things Dorne. However, it might also be interesting if she takes after her father's advice to be cautious and tries to hold back her forces, leading to the Yronwoods ignorning her and Doran's commands and striking out on their own anyways. And it will be interesting how these events may combine with the x-factor of news of Quentyn and Cletus arriving at some point (whatever the timing of that might be in relation to the Battle of Steel).

So what do you think of Houses Fowler, Uller, and Yronwood... will we see them act out in Winds or play loyal bannermen to Doran?
~Thank you for Reading!~
TLDR This post explores the ample foreshadowing that Houses Fowler, Uller, and Yronwood may be unreliable allies of Doran when pressed, and their reaction may not follow what we'd expect when Arianne sends out her last raven either calling Dorne's spears to side with the Golden Company or holding off and keeping to the passes (taking after her father's more prudent advice). Could the Fowlers join with Darkstar and raid the Dornish Marches? Will we have a chapter at the Hellholt before Areo's party travels the deep sands where we see Lord Harmen Uller's rebellious nature collide with Ellaria Sand's attempts at peace? And will the Yronwood troops in the Boneway join their historic allies in the Golden Company, or have a divisive reaction to news of Quentyn and Cletus' deaths?

So disclaimer this is everything my roommate did when she lived with me from my perspective. Also this is a really long story because a lot happened, and I do tend to get sidetracked.
Before we became roommates, I had a situationship with this guy. Let’s call him John. John and I met in our first semester of college and hit it off right off the bat. John was a mutual friend of me and my psychotic roommate, which is how we were introduced. Let’s call her Shortstack. So Shortstack knew I had a thing for John, and was encouraging us to start a relationship which I thought was nice. Eventually, though, when there was a lull in our relationship she admitted to liking John, and I backed off because it was looking like a relationship between me and John wasn’t gonna happen. I did my best to subtly wingman and they ended up dating.
Right before they made it official, I had met someone new. We’ll call him Tim (I’m trying to use generic/default guy names to keep some anonymity). Tim and I hit it off right off the bat. He’s honestly the most genuine, talented, thoughtful, and interesting guy I’ve ever met. Anyway, right before John and Shortstack started dating, I got a text from Shortstack saying she had the hots for Tim and asked if I he was free game. I was a bit bothered by that, but she respected my answer when I politely told her that Tim and I had something good and I didn’t want anyone interfering. At least, I THOUGHT she respected my answer.
Almost a year later and I had asked Shortstack if she wanted to be my roommate so we could both live near school while not having to live on campus. Worst decision ever.
She moved in before I did, and when it was my turn to move in the place was an absolute disaster. Dirty clothes and empty Dominos boxes covered the floor. She had also set up her decorations all over the entire apartment (not really leaving any room for me, which was made worse by the fact that we shared a room, and the apartment was very tiny so we were basically living on top of each other). I brushed it off, but it never really got any better. Normally I wouldn’t be too upset, I’m not a huge neat freak or anything, but it peeved me that she would always point out any mess that I had made.
Here’s a list of some of her really gross habits: dirty underwear everywhere kept old dominos boxes everywhere would buy salads and let them expire and they would sit there until I took them out Refused to do any chores or contribute in any way our shower didn’t fully drain so hair was often left in the tub, but she never cleaned up after herself (meaning I was scrubbing her pubes out of the tub) Used tissues would be left on the ground Not flushing I never once saw her do laundry in the 6 months we lived together
I’m sure there’s more but these are just the ones that I remember. To be fair, here were my gross she took issue with: Leaving dishes in the sink for a long-ass time Letting my laundry basket overflow Walking around in a towel after I took a shower, even when her tinder dates were over (mostly cuz I didn’t give a shit and everything was covered, but I also understand that her glares when I would do that were a little deserved).
That was the easiest part of living with her that I had to deal with. It got so so so much worse, and slowly she started to reveal her true colours.
She had a job at a jewelry store, got fired. Moved to a job at a grocery store across the street, got fired. Bummed around for a few weeks, mostly just sitting on the couch doing arts and crafts. Tried a Zumba class, quit after 2 sessions. Finally she got hired at a movie theatre, but she would only work Friday and weekends. All the while a lot of new things were appearing in our apartment. New makeup, a makeup chair, a tiny plastic Dreamhouse, posters and picture frames, lights, you name it. She was also buying premade meals and continued to order Dominos and DoorDash, never making her own food.
That’s around the time I found a buried letter from our landlord saying she was 2 months behind on rent. (Also an honorable mention about her RGB lights, she would keep them on while I was trying to sleep, even when I had work in the morning which was most days and she’d throw a little hissy fit whenever I asked her to turn them off because it was midnight and I had to get up in a couple hours).
She would constantly be having guys over, but would never tell me, so I’d always come home to a stranger on our couch and I’d uncomfortably lock myself in our room. Walls were thin so I had to listen to her awful flirting and occasionally kissing noises. She had made a goal for herself to kiss at least 30 guys so she could write a book about it, one chapter for each guy. It’s funny because the book is coming out soon, I’m not gonna share the name because I don’t wanna promote an incel’s diary but if you happen to be one of the guys she wrote about, just know that she has said several times her type is “Generic kinda ugly white guys.” I don’t think that’s her type, I think she just says that because all of the super attractive guys she went after all shot her down so quick.
While she’s collecting “ugly-ish white guys” (her words), she has promised herself to some dude in the military overseas who has a ring with their initials carved into it (his name is Matt. I’m not censoring that because I genuinely hope he sees this even though chances are insanely slim. She’s Jodie-ing you my guy, and she wants to elope and marry you to piss her parents off and for financial benefits because she can’t keep a job).
ONTOP of all this, Tim (who at this point I had been with for over a year) would come over and visit sometimes. She was always miserable, but perked up and suddenly became so sweet and friendly whenever he was there. Tim kept trying to drop some social cues that he did not want to talk to her, but she ignored it. I also want to mention that Tim is incredibly attractive, physically and personality wise, which is the main reason I think that “ugly” isn’t actually her type, it’s just all she can get.
Oh quick mention one of her tinder guys was 17. She was close to 20 at the time. She said their age gap made her uncomfortable but she invited him over because she wanted to, and I quote, “lick his abs.” Take that as you will.
My breaking point with her was when I woke up one day with a random man in the room sleeping next to her. She let a random man from tinder have full unsupervised access to 2 unconscious girls and all of their valuable items. There’s more stuff she did but this is already super long so I’m going to leave it on this note. Let me know if you guys wanna hear the rest.