Yard airplane art

Hi, I'm 22 now and this happened to me 6 years ago, I'm from eastern Europe and in my country it's quite common to drink alcohol at the age of 16, so this one night me and my friend decided to get absolutely hammered at my house, we are neighbours, we drank loads of beer and just talked about life, we were getting pretty drunk so I suggested to go on a walk in a nearby park that was only about 100m away from our house, we got there, sat down and continued drinking, about 30 minutes had passed and I noticed a guy in his mid 40s wearing a suit, sitting down only a few benches away from us holding a black briefcase, I thought it was weird because it was 2:30 am, I kind of felt uneasy and started to sober up but my buddy had his lights out already, I noticed the guy mumbling something, not towards us but just talking to himself, that's when I decided it was time to leave, got my friend up put arm over his shoulder and we started to walk slowly to our house, few seconds later this guy also stands up and starts to walk in our direction, I got scared as he approached, he came to us and asked if we needed any help, I politely declined and started to walk while also dragging my friend who was at the edge of passing out, after a few seconds this guy comes too close again and asks if we need any help for the second time, I once again politely declined and thanked him for the concern, at this point I thought about the worst possible outcome and considered that I should beat this guy to a pulp, I was doing martial arts my whole life and also was very tipsy so got cocky too, I stopped and waited for him to pass us as he did, he stopped and looked for the third time and said that if we needed anything we could ask him, I said okay and nothing was needed, as we were walking to our house he went into our neighbours gate, I ignored it and just focused on getting my friend safely home, as I was walking inside my house I heard a scream coming from the gate that the guy went into, I recognized his tone, I was way too drunk and dumb to care and just went to sleep thinking it was a relative maybe, plus my neighbour was a cop so I didn't worry much. The next day I wake up and the scary guy from earlier comes to mind, I call my neighbour to ask about him and the scream I heard, what he said made my heart sink, he told me that a middle aged man holding a briefcase came in his yard and was watching us from a distance to remember the house we went into, my neighbour went outside and tackled him, that was the scream I heard, he called his precinct and a few cops showed up, they took him to the station, checked his briefcase and found dirty needles, ropes, knives and bunch of kinky stuff, I got the reality check and have been more careful since then.

Daejeon Gugak Center will perform Korean music that opens our morning at the 2024 Special Series K-Brunch Concert for the third time this year in the small yard of the Gugak Center at 11 am on May 29th.
In this performance, Kim Yul-hee, a singer who is active in various genres such as jazz and reggae based on traditional music, will appear.
Kim Yul-hee has won the Pansori Award at the KBS Korean Traditional Music Awards and the Grand Prize in the General Division of the Namdo Folk Song Competition. She is currently working as a singer for 'Our Sori Baraji', which presents creative works using traditional materials.
Bassist Seo Young-do, who is a collaborator, has been active in various fields such as session participation, band activities, live shows, and musicals on TV programs such as 'I am a singer' and 'Voice Korea', and has received a commendation from the Korea Popular Culture and Arts Award (Minister of Culture, Sports and Tourism Award).
On this stage, Kim Yul-hee and Seo Young-do will present a special performance that cannot be seen anywhere else with only their voices and bass.
The performance begins with ‘Endless Heart’ and reinterprets traditions in a modern way, including ‘Spring Rain on Empty Mountain’, ‘Jeongpyo’, ‘Yukjabaegi’, ‘Farewell Song’, ‘Sangsamong’, ‘A Song Sung by Everyone’, and ‘In Front of the Mirror on New Year’s Morning’. The stage will feature unreleased songs in collaboration with Korean music and classical music.
Admission to the performance is 10,000 won for all seats, and reservations can be made at www.daejeon.go.kkmusic and ticket.interpark.com.

"You gotta know that there's an art to it, Ezra," Hitch said, cutting another piece of duct tape.
The sleeves of his weather-beaten coat were shoved all the way up his arms, to stop the fabric from falling over his knuckles while he was working, and goosebumps lined his skin. He was strapping a rubber chicken to the back of his truck, over the lens of the shattered backup camera, with the legs pointing down so that they hung a couple inches above the ground. There were dents in the hood from the crash last week, and scratches along the door from scraping into a curb. The chicken, hopefully, would keep him from breaking anything else.
"You can't go cheap," Hitch said. "The cheap rubber chickens only make noise when pressure lets go. That's no good. As soon as I back up into something, I want this chicken to be screaming like it’s in the depths of hell."
“Sure thing,” I said in a monotone, leaning against the side of the truck.
There were scrambled electronic parts piled in the back of the truck, the innards of a radio, a broken computer, tangled wires, a couple loose pairs of earbuds. He found the parts in alleyways or bummed them off his friends for a couple bucks or stole them from the vacation homes that were left empty for most of the year. Then he sold them for a profit at the scrapyard. Hitch had bounced between minimum-wage jobs for a while after high school, spending a couple months as a bagger at the grocery store or as a seasonal worker at the farm two hours down the highway. He'd never stuck with it. At the very least, the scrapyard got him enough money to eat and occasionally spend a night in a motel when he got tired of sleeping in his car.
Hitch pressed the last piece of tape in place and grinned up at me. "I've got something for you, duck."
The nickname came from when I’d broken my leg as a child and waddled around in a cast until it was healed. I hated it with a burning passion, and I glared at Hitch with the ease of twenty-one years of practice. He had a duck tattoo at the base of his thumb that he’d gotten in a back-alley shop as a teenager. He said that he’d gotten it to remind him of me, and the fact that I hated the nickname was just a bonus. It was shaky-lined, with an uneven face, but he loved it anyway.
The handle stuck when Hitch tried to open the door, a consequence of the rust collecting in the crevices of the car and running down the sides like blood from a cut. The car groaned when the door finally popped open, a metal against metal screech that had me flinching away. Hitch dug through the cluttered fast food containers in the passenger-side footwell, eventually coming up with a crinkly paper bag. He waved away the flies buzzing around the opening of the bag and held it out to me.
The last time Hitch had brought me food, I’d gotten food poisoning because he’d left it out in the midday sun for two days. The donut was squished slightly, and the icing was stuck to the bag. I still ate it, grimacing at the harsh citrus flavor. Taking Hitch’s food was an instinct engraved from the days when Dad had given us a can of kidney beans for dinner and Hitch had drank the juice, leaving the beans for me.
I rarely went hungry anymore, three mostly square meals a day and granola in my pockets just in case, but habits didn’t die easy.
These days, Hitch only brought me food when he wanted my help, like when he saw a place he wanted to hit but was worried about doing it alone.
I got in the car, like I always did.
We drove past the cluster of seafood-themed restaurants with chipped paint decks, the beachfront park where there were always shifty-eyed men sitting under the slide, the single room library where all the books had been water damaged in the flood last year. The change was quick as we drove across Main Street, heading closer to the beach. The roads were freshly paved, the concrete a smooth black except where the sun had already started to pick away at it. The three-story homes lining the sides of the street were crouched on elegant stilts, with space underneath for a car or three. Most of the garages were empty, with the lights off and curtains drawn in the house. Come summer, the streets would be swarming with tourists and vacationers, but until then, most of the buildings nearest to the beach were unoccupied.
Hitch stopped as the sun started to go down at a house that was leaning precariously out towards the beach, tilted ever so slightly, the edge of its foundation buried in the shifting sand of the beach. It certainly looked deserted, with an overgrown yard and blue paint peeling off the door in sheets.
Hitch took his hammer out of the backseat, hoisting it over his shoulder. It was two feet of solid metal with rags wrapped around the head to muffle the sound of the hits. Hitch squared up, bending his knees and holding the hammer like a baseball bat. Before he could swing, though, the door creaked open on its own, the hinges squeaking. The house beyond was dark enough that I could only make out general shapes, glimpsing the curve of a sofa to the left, what was maybe the shimmer of a chandelier on the other side.
Hitch lowered his hammer, looking vaguely disappointed that he didn’t get to use it. “That’s…weird as hell.”
“Maybe the deadbolt broke, maybe they forgot to lock it, it doesn’t matter,” I hissed, checking our surroundings for other people again. “Just hurry up and get inside before someone calls the cops.”
Hitch flicked the lightswitch on the wall, and the lights flickered on. They were dim, buzzing audibly and blinking off occasionally. The walls were plastered with contrasting swatches of wallpaper and splattered with random colors. There was neon orange behind the dining table, a galaxy swirl in the kitchen, and on the ceiling there was a repeating floral pattern covered in nametag stickers. Each of the stickers was filled out with The Erlking. Chandeliers hung in every room, three or four for each, and rubber ducks sat on every table. A miniature carousel sat in the corner along with a towering model rocket.
Sand was heaped on every surface, at least a couple inches everywhere. It was piled in the corners and stuck to the walls, and it covered the floor in a thick blanket. Our hesitant steps into the house left footprints clearly outlined in the sand.
Hitch took a cursory look around and headed immediately for the TV mounted on the wall. “Look out the windows and tell me if anyone is coming.”
I shook the sand out of the blinds and pulled them open, then had to brush sand off of the window before I could see anything.
Hitch was quick, practiced at finding and appropriating the things that were worth taking. He came back to me with an armful of electronics and chandeliers, dumping it at my feet before turning to head deeper into the house again.
There was a thump, somewhere upstairs, and then footsteps, slow and deliberate. Hitch froze at the threshold of the room, then ran for the door with me just ahead of him, sand flying out from under our feet.
My hand was almost brushing the doorknob, close enough that I could see the light from the streetlamp outside streaming in through the cracks in the door. My fingers touched the wood and it gave under my touch, becoming malleable and warm. I yelped, stumbling backwards, and the door started to melt. The paint ran down in thick drops, pooling at the bottom of the door, and the wood warped like metal being welded. The soft edges of the door ran into the walls until there was no sign of an exit ever being there.
“Well, well, well,” said a cultured voice with just an edge of snooty elitism. “What do we have here?”
The man was well over eight feet tall, with long black hair covering his eyes. He was wearing a yellow raincoat with holes cut out of the hood to accommodate the deer antlers jutting upwards from his head. There was sand settled on his shoulders and hovering around his head like a halo.
“Who the fuck are you?” Hitch said, inching towards a window.
He smiled, just a little bit, and his teeth shone in the dim light. “I am the Erlking.”
Hitch nodded, and seemed about to respond. I grabbed him by the hand and pulled him towards the window. I could feel sand in the wind roaring against my back as the Erlking growled in anger, the grains scraping harshly against my cheeks.
We were almost to the window when Hitch was ripped away from me, and I came to a startled halt. The sand had formed long grasping arms that pressed Hitch against the floral wallpaper. His wrists were held tight, and as I watched, a sandy hand wrapped around his mouth and forced its way between his teeth. He gagged, and sand trickled out of the corners of his mouth.
The Erlking strolled towards him, not seeming to be in any sort of rush. “You know, I’m not very fond of your yapping.”
He made an idle gesture and the sand wrapped around my ankles, tethering me in place.
“I yap all the time,” Hitch said. “Three-time olympic yapper, that’s me. Best to just let me go now and save yourself some trouble.”
The Erlking tapped a manicured nail against Hitch’s mouth, hard enough to hurt, judging by the way he flinched away. “But why would I ever let you go when I’ve gone to this much trouble to catch you and your sister? It’s so hard, these days, to find people that no one will miss.”
Hitch struggled against the sand, trying to escape and failing. “What do you want with us, then? You just said it, we’re nobody.”
“I’m fae, dear one,” the Erlking said. “I get my power from my followers. And I think that you two will make lovely additions to my flock.”

He flicked Hitch's nose and Hitch gasped. Feathers started to form on his arms, popping out from under his skin in a spray of blood.
Hitch pushed off the wall, using his bound hands as a fulcrum, and his knees crashed into the Erlking’s stomach. The Erlking fell backwards, wheezing, and the sand around my ankles loosened.
Hitch made desperate eye contact with me as feathers shot up his neck and jerked his head towards the window. The message was obvious. Run.
The last thing I saw before crashing out the window and into freedom was Hitch’s body twisting, his arms wrenching into wings and feathers covering every inch of his skin. By the time I landed on the concrete outside, he was a small black bird, held tightly in the Erlking’s hands. The whole building was sinking into the ground, burnished-gold sand piling up over top and streaming from the windows.
Thirty years later, I saw Sam’s Supernatural Consultation and Neutralization written in neat, looping handwriting on a piece of paper taped to the door. The tape was peeling at the corners and the paper was yellowed with age, but there was obviously care put into the sign, in its perfectly centered text and looping floral designs drawn over the edges in gold marker.
I knocked, hesitantly, drawing my woolen coat closer around my shoulders. I’d bought it as a fiftieth birthday gift for myself, and I took comfort in the heavy weight of it over my shoulders.
“Coming!” someone called from within the depths of the office.
There were a couple crashes, and the sound of paper shuffling. Eventually, the door was opened by a young woman with ketchup stains on her shirt and pencils stuck through her hair.
“Hi, I’m Sam, I specialize in supernatural consultation and hunting, how may I help you today?” Sam said, customer-service pep in her voice. She stood in the doorway, solidly blocking entry into the office.
“My name is Ezra, I’m for a consultation. I emailed you but you didn’t respond?” I shifted in place, suddenly feeling awkward.
“Oh! Yeah, I lost the password for the email ages ago. Sorry for the bad welcome, I get lots of people thinking I’m crazy or pulling a prank and harassing me.”
She ushered me into the office, clearing papers off one of the chairs to make room for me to sit down. There was a collection of swords along one wall, all of them polished to perfection, several with deep knicks in the metal which indicated that they’d been used heavily.
“So what can I help you with?” Sam asked again, more sincere this time.
“Thirty years ago, my brother was turned into a bird,” I started. I’d told this story so many times that it barely felt ridiculous to say anymore. I was used to the disbelieving looks, the careful pity. But Sam just nodded along, face open and welcoming.
“I’ve almost given up on finding him, at this point,” I said. “But I saw your ad in the newspaper, and…here I am, I suppose.”
“Here you are,” Sam echoed, smiling. She pulled one of the pencils out of her hair and took a bit of paperwork off of one of her stacks, turning it over so that the blank side sat neatly in front of her. “Tell me everything.”
I told Sam everything, and she wrote it all down, pencil scratching along the paper.
The last part of the story was always the hardest to tell. “I left him there. I ran and I didn’t look back.”
I had been to dozens of detectives and investigators over the years, once the police had dropped Hitch’s case. I’d been to professional offices with smartly-dressed secretaries and met scraggly men in coffee shops. All of them had given me the same look, pity and annoyance all mixed up into a humor-the-crazy-lady soup. Sam, though, just seemed thoughtful.
Sam leaned forward and put a hand over mine, carefully, like she thought that I would pull away. “Sometimes you have to leave people behind.”
I tightened her hold on Sam’s hand and drew it towards me, like I could make Sam listen if only I squeezed tight enough. “But that’s why I’m here. I don’t want to leave him behind.”
“Okay then. I’ll do my best to help you.” Sam agreed, finally. Then she paused, and said softly, “You know…I think I met your brother once. He might have saved my life. He’s certainly why I started in this business.”
“Really? What happened?” I asked.
This is the story that Sam told me, related to the best of my abilities:
It was a new moon, so the only illumination came from the stars gazing idly down and distant porch lights shining across the scraggly brush of the dunes. Sam’s neighbors were decent people who cared about baby turtles, so the lights were a low, unobtrusive red, and the ocean sloshed like blood. Sam walked on the beach almost every night, drawing back the gauzy pink curtains and clambering out her bedroom window. She didn’t often bother to be quiet; her mama worked the late shift and came home exhausted. As long as Sam got home before the sun, her mama would never find out that she paced the shoreline and dreamed of inhaling sand until her lungs became their own beach.
The sky was lightening. The sun would come up soon, and that meant Sam’s time on the beach was over. She needed to get back to her real life, go to her fifth grade class and stop that nonsense, as her mother would say. Her mother loved to say things like that, pushing Sam into her proper place by implication alone.
“She’s a good kid, of course, but she’s a bit…” Her mother would trail off there, usually getting a commiserating expression from whoever she was talking to. Sam always wondered how that sentence would have finished. She’s a bit strange, maybe. She’s a bit intense. She’s a bit abrasive. She’s quiet enough but when Jason tried to steal her pencil in math class, she stabbed him in the hand so hard that the lead tattooed him.
Her mother was better, for the most part. The days of her stocking up the fridge, and leaving a post-it note on the counter, and leaving for days at a time were gone. But Sam still stepped around the place on the kitchen tile where her mother had collapsed and caved her head in, even though the bloodstains had been replaced with new tile.
“Your auntie got an abortion, you know,” her mother had said from her place on the couch, slurring her words. “Pill in the mail and then bam, no more baby.”
She had clapped her hands together to illustrate her point. Her mother jerked forward and grabbed Sam by the wrist, then, staring up at her until Sam met her eyes.
“I love you, you know? But sometimes I wonder…” She settled back onto the couch. “Yeah. I wonder.”
She’d gotten up, then, back to the kitchen. She’d been stumbling, a shambling zombie of a woman. The ground in the entryway of the kitchen was raised, ever so slightly, and her mother went down hard. Her head cracked against the tile, chin first, and she didn’t move.
Sam had been the one to call the ambulance. She had stared at the scattering of loose teeth on the ground while she waited, and considered what her life would be like with a dead mom. Not so bad, she thought, and immediately felt guilty for it.
Her mom was better, now, for the most part. But Sam still stepped around the place on the kitchen floor where she had collapsed. There was still a matchbox hidden under her bed with the gleaming shine of her mother’s lost teeth, two canines and a molar. It was nice, having a piece of her mom to keep. Even if she left again, Sam would still have part of her.
Sam sighed, and turned away from the ocean. As she faced towards the low dunes further up the beach, she saw a sandcastle sitting nestled among them. It was such a strange sight that her eyes skipped over it at first, almost automatically, disregarding it because it was so out of place.
Sam found sandcastles out on the beach sometimes, usually half-collapsed and on the verge of being washed away by the waves, but she had never seen anything like the sandcastle in front of her. It was life-sized, something that wouldn’t have looked out of place in the Scottish highlands, with spires shooting up above her head and carefully etched out bricks lining each side. The front wall was dominated by an arched set of double doors, twice her height, with a portcullis nestled at the top, ready to be dropped. All of it was lovingly detailed, down to the rust on the tips of the towers and the wood grain of the door. It was made out of wet, densely-packed sand, held together impossibly. It had not been there two hours ago, when she had come to the beach.
There was a bird sitting on the overhang of the door, small and black.
As soon as she took a step towards the sandcastle, the bird shook out its feathers and swooped down towards Sam, landing at her feet with a little stumble.
“Hey, kid, get out of here,” said the bird.
Sam closed her eyes, very deliberately. When she opened them, the bird was still there. Sam considered herself a very reasonable person, so she immediately drew the most logical conclusion. The bird was, she was almost certain, a demon.
“Trust me, you don’t want to run into Mr. Salty, the queen bitch himself,” the bird said.
“Mr. Salty?” Sam inquired, polite as she knew how to be. She edged to the side, trying to get a good angle to kick the bird like a soccer ball.
The bird did something similar to a wince, all its feathers fluffing up then settling back down. “Ah, don’t call him that. He’d turn you into a toad.”
The bird gestured with its head, towards the looming sand structure. “That’s his castle. He’s in there, probably scuttling along the ceiling or some shit because that’s the sort of weirdo he is.”
Sam nodded, encouraging. She pulled back her foot and lined up her shot, the way she’d seen athletes do on TV. She aimed right for its sharp beak and let loose. The bird saw it coming, its beady eyes widening, and it cawed in distress. It flapped away, avoiding her kick only to fall backward into the sand in a scramble of wings.
“What’s your fucking problem?” it squawked. “I was trying to help you!”
“I don’t need the help of a demon,” Sam yelled, trying to remember the exorcism that her mama had taught her once, because her mama believed in being prepared for anything.
“I’m not a demon,” the bird said indignantly.
It was at about that moment that Sam gave up and just decided to roll with it.
“What are you, then?” Sam asked.
The bird shuffled its clawed feet, looking about as awkward as it could, given that it didn’t really have recognizable facial expressions. “Technically I’m a familiar of the Erlking, prince of the fae, but I prefer to be called Hitch.”
“You can’t blame me for assuming, though,” Sam said. “Ravens do tend to be associated with murder.”
“Hey, excuse you,” Hitch said. “I’m a rook, not a raven. Ravens are way bigger.”
“Sure,” Sam said, not really paying attention. Her eyes had caught on the details of the sandcastle, and she was transfixed by the slow spirals of the sand, the strange beauty of it. She found herself stepping towards the great doors, lifting a hand to knock, and as she did, the sand warped in front of her eyes, heaving itself towards her with bulging slowness. The door creaked open before her, revealing a vast, empty room. Just before she stepped inside, she felt a piercing pain in her foot, and she yelped, leaping backwards.
Hitch pecked her again, really digging his beak in. “Don’t be an idiot.”
Sam glared at him, rubbing her foot. About to retort, she finally really took in the room inside the sandcastle, and her words died in her throat.
There was a body just past the threshold of the door, face down and limbs hanging limp at its sides. Long hair splayed out in a halo around its head.
“Don’t,” Hitch warned, suddenly serious. “Just leave, kid, I mean it. I’ve seen too many people go down this road and you don’t want to be one of them.”
Sam ignored him. She made her way across the beach, slipping with every step. The sand felt deeper, piling up around her feet in silent drifts. She picked up the nearest stick and poked the body with it through the door, ready to leap back if anything went wrong, staying firmly outside of the sandcastle.
This close, Sam could tell that it used to be a woman. Her head wasn’t attached to her body. It hadn’t been a clean amputation, either. Her upper body was bruised, with chunks taken out of it, and the bones in her neck hung mangled, not connected to anything.
“Well, I warned you,” Hitch said, defeated. “I did warn you.”
Sam nudged the head with the end of the stick, nudging it over so that she could see the face. Her mother stared back at her, torn to pieces, breath still wheezing from her lungs. She wasn’t blinking, just gazing forward with glazed eyes. Sweat dripped down from her hairline.
Sam screamed and dropped the stick, tripping over herself in her haste to get away.
Her mother’s eyes were wide and pleading, and she was mouthing desperate words at Sam. Her vocal cords were broken to bits, and the only sound that came out was a strained groan.
The head rolled, inching closer to Sam like a grotesque caterpillar.
Her mother gasped for air, torn lips fluttering. Finally, comprehensible words came out. “Help. Help me, daughter.”
“That’s not your mother,” Hitch said, quiet.
Sam knew that. Her mother was sleeping back at home, and anyways her mom had never asked for her help. She had an aversion to accepting charity, as she put it.
“Okay,” Sam said, shaking all over. “Okay.”
She backed away from the sandcastle, not looking away.
“Failure,” her mother hissed as she stepped away. “I never wanted a daughter like you.”
The sun came up over the horizon. The sandcastle, Hitch, and her mom all disintegrated into sand as the light hit them.
The beach, the next night, was almost exactly how I remembered it. The beams of our flashlights sent light bouncing across the dunes, illuminating the waves, and I imagined faces in the foam of the waves.
“I’ve been back here a hundred times. There’s nothing left,” I said.
Sam took the car key out of her purse and pointed it at the sand, adjusting the sword slung over her shoulder in order to do it. The key had belonged to Hitch; Sam had requested an item of his, and it was the only thing I had left. She rested the key on the sand and drew a circle around it, inscribing symbols around the borders.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
Sam shrugged. “Not much, really. I’m…I guess you could say that I’m knocking.”
The key laid inert on the sand for long enough that I was just about to give up and go home, admit to myself that Hitch was dead and that I was a fool to believe that Sam could actually help me. Then a building started to take shape, flickering in and out like it was struggling to get away. With a pop of displaced air, the sandcastle settled into existence.
Sam banged on the entryway. Nothing happened. She did it again, harder, and scowled when the door still didn’t open.
“We demand entrance, under your honor,” Sam yelled. There was a hard rush of wind, and I gripped Sam’s arm to keep my balance, but the doors cracked open reluctantly.
The inside of the sandcastle consisted of one enormous hall, the roof arching up out of sight. Rafters crisscrossed from wall to wall, and a cobbled path led further into the building, but other than that, it was completely empty, except for the birds. There were thousands of them, perched on the rafters or hopping along the ground. They parted in front of Sam and I, and reformed behind us, leaving us in a small pocket of open space. They were all black-feathered, with sharp beaks and beady eyes.
The Erlking sat on a throne at the end of the hall, lounging across it with his feet up on the armrest. He watched them as they came forward, the soft caw of the birds the only sound.
“I am here to bargain for the life of my brother,” I said, with as much dignity as I could muster, before the Erlking could say anything.
The Erlking ignored her, tilting his head to look at Sam. “I remember you. I almost got you, once.”

Sam glared at him but didn’t respond.
“You want your brother,” The Erlking said to me, and he almost sounded amused. “Then go get him.”
As if by some sort of silent signal, every bird in the room took flight at once, and their cawing made me think of screams. I covered my head against the flapping of their wings, and my vision was quickly obscured by the chaotic movement of them. I found myself on my knees, just trying to escape them.
A hand met my shoulder. Sam urged me to my feet, and together we ran for the edge of the room, where the swarm was the thinnest. We pressed ourselves into the corner and the swarm spiraled tighter and tighter at the center of the room. It went on until there seemed to be no differentiation between the birds, all of them fused together into one creature.
When the chaos died down, the birds had become one mass, with wings and eyes and talons sticking out of its flesh, thrashing and chirping. Human body parts stuck out of it, bulging out from the feathers. It was hands, mostly, with a couple knees or staring eyes. The bird amalgamation had no recognizable facial features, but there was one long beak extending from the front of its head. Most of the body parts were concentrated around the beak, and they peeked out from where the beak connected with muscle, or grew from the tongue, nestled between the two crushing halves of the beak.
It turned its beak down and crawled forward, using the hands to balance. The fingers scrambled over the ground. I was afraid of centipedes as a child, and I felt that same crawling dread when it started moving.
“Holy shit,” Sam whispered, which was rather disappointing, because I had been hoping that at least one of us knew what to do.
The creature turned, a lurching movement that crushed some of the hands underneath it, and started heaving itself slowly towards our corner.
“Better hurry up!” the Erlking called from his throne.
It was blocking the exit, by then. The shifting body of it had moved to block us off. It ambled towards us and I tried to sink further into the corner.
As it approached, getting close enough that I could smell the stink of it, I saw a flash of a tattoo on one of the hands. I leaned in, trying to find it again, like looking for dolphins surfacing in the ocean. And again, I caught a glimpse of a duck tattoo, the tattoo that Hitch had gotten on his hand as a teenager.
I ripped away from Sam’s death grip and ran for the monster.
I fell to my knees in front of it, wincing as I impacted the ground, and reached into the nest of hands. I could feel them tearing at my forearms and ripping into me with their sharp nails, but I kept going. I pressed further in, up to my shoulder in a writhing mass of limbs, aiming for the spot where I had last seen that tattoo.
The hands were tugging at me, wrapping around my back and hair. They were pulling together, trying to draw me completely into the mass of them. I was aware of Sam at my side, anchoring me in place and bashing any hand that got too close with her sword or the sparks that leapt from her hands with muttered words. But I didn’t think it would be enough. They were too strong, and there were too many of them.
I was up to my waist in the hands when something grabbed my palm. I felt the way it clung to me, and the calluses on its palm, and I knew that I had found my brother.
I flung herself back. The hands didn’t want to let me go, and they fought the whole way, but slowly, I made progress. I kept hold of Hitch’s hand in mine the whole time, gripping it as hard as I could. I finally broke free, Hitch with me, and Sam was immediately charging the creature, able to use her sword with much greater strength without being worried about injuring Hitch. She swung it forward, and it sliced through the wrist of one of the hands. It fell without a sound, red sand flowing out of it. It deflated until it looked like dirty laundry, just a piece of limp flesh. The creature shrieked, scuttling away enough that the door was finally accessible. The three of us ran for it, Sam and I supporting Hitch between us.
I looked back as I left and found the Erlking staring right at me.
“Interesting,” he murmured, his voice carrying impossibly across the vast space between us.
The sandcastle collapsed behind us, the great walls falling in on themselves. We were out in the morning sun, the sandcastle disappearing as we watched. Hitch was on the ground in front of me, as young as he’d been thirty years ago, when he was captured. He started laughing, feathers puffing out of his mouth. He laughed until he cried and I hugged him in the way that he’d held me when I was young, in the times when my life had been defined by hunger and fear.
Hitch left, afterwards. He scratched at the pinhole scars covering his body, where feathers burst through his skin, and pulled his long sleeves down around his wrists. He didn’t know where he was going but he told me that he needed time
I had spent thirty years worth of time without him. I wanted to grab my brother by the shoulders and beg him to stay. But he flinched when I hugged him goodbye and he refused to go near sand and he stared distrustfully at the birds chirping in the trees. Hitch needed to go away and I loved him too much to stop him.
I sat out on the beach every morning. I felt the sun on my face and I waited for Hitch to come home.

Hi, first time in this sub and hoping someone can explain the following to me like I am 2.
I live in a 2 story townhouse and have HOA fees.
The words: Unit and Lot would be my townhouse.
The below excerpt states that the HOA
Section 1. Association's Maintenance Responsibility. a. Association Repairs Generally. The Association shall make all repairs and replacements and provide any maintenance (including necessary painting) to maintain and keep in good condition and repair, clean and aesthetically pleasing (the "Maintenance Standards") (i) the Common Areas including Recreation Facilities; provided, however, that to the extent (city's utilities) has agreed to maintain and does maintain the storm sewers, sanitary sewers and water lines, and their appurtenances, within the Common Areas, the Association shall not be required to do such maintenance, (ii) paved walks, driveways and parking areas located on Lots or Common Areas, (iii) the exterior faces of the exterior walls, fixtures, fencing, painting, roofs, gutters, chimneys, siding, downspouts and roof drainage systems of the Units ( excluding foundations and windows and doors and their frames, hardware and appurtenances, except that the Association shall be responsible for painting the exterior of the doors and their frames), (iv) any grass, and landscaping on Lots installed by Declarant ( except that the Association shall have no responsibility for grass and landscaping contained in the Courtyard Unit's enclosed rear yards), and, (v) any Utility Facilities serving more than one Unit whether or not within a Lot or Unit. In undertaking such duties, the Association shall be responsible for the repair and replacement of paving, cutting grass, pruning and replacing 19 landscaping installed by Declarant ( except for the grass and landscaping contained in the Courtyard Unit's enclosed rear yards), painting, and, except as otherwise provided, providing all other maintenance, repair and replacements to comply with the above Maintenance Standards. The costs for the actions described in this Section 1.a. shall be assessed as described in Art. N, Sec. 1 through 3. The Association shall repair any damage to a Lot or Unit resulting from the Association's acts under this Article VI. Notwithstanding the above, the Owner of a Lot shall make any repairs and replacements to the Unit or the Lot required (i) as the result of an Insurable Loss, to restore the Unit to its condition existing immediately preceding such loss; or (ii) as the result of the acts or negligence of such Owner or his or her Occupants or their respective agents, employees, guests, or contractors. The Association shall not be responsible for the maintenance of any heating and air conditioning facilities located on or outside of the exterior walls of a Unit which exclusively serve that Unit. Association repairs described herein shall be funded as described in Article N.
Would this qualify a swap in coverage from a homeowners policy to a condo policy?
I've read this so much that my wires are now crossed and would really appreciate a separate set of eyes.
Thanks!

From what I’ve seen since the banned post, I mean. We’re, for the most part, agreed that the rich beyond money are the root of our problems. Problems that spread like a cancer across countries and agencies and into the lives of everyone you know.
It seems like we’re in agreement that, at best the world is in the works to be controlled by regime dedicated to money and power. And at worst a regime of pedophilic soul hunting lizard space demigods who are assholes.
In any scenario, we agree that left vs right or blacks vs whites or Judaism vs Islam or old conflict and new conflict are all in line with what keeps them in power?
I think getting that close to being united terrifies them. Power is a thin vale. New art project; build non lethal guillotines in the yards of the uber rich. Just as art.

So Dungeons and Dragon's is celebrating it's 50th anniversary and they made new Initiative Dungeons for Baldur's Gate 3. My store ran the event and we only had seven people show up. We would have ran it with four, but I wish we would have had at least the full draft pod of eight.
Either way, I drafted mostly black good stuff. I got [[Scion of Halaster]] P1P1, and went from there. Got [[Agent of the Iron Throne]] in my P1P2 so I figured I was set on black. My plan was to draft all the good black stuff I could find, and then hopefully grab a good background commander. I took the occasional red or blue card mostly because I was really hoping a [[Gale, Waterdeep Prodigy]] or [[Imoen]] would show up, or perhaps [[Baeloth]].
Well none of that happened. I did pick up [[Viconia]] and [[Safana]] however. I grabbed them, thinking maybe I'd snag a good red or blue background instead. That didn't happen either. Mid-way through pack two I figured I really needed to settle on my commandecolor identity, and figured maybe I'd be doing Mono black recursion stuff. So I started just drafting all the good black cards I could.
Pack three comes around, and the first pack I'm passed has [[Zevlor, Elturel Exile]] right on top. I was leaning more towards a creature based plan, but the hand full of Blue/Red cards I'd grabbed were all single target interaction pieces, like bolts, and bounce spells. It was a sign that we were doing Grixis stuff.
I ended up in the three player pod had a slow but steady start. I had Viconia out early, along with Halaster, so I was trading creatures in block scenarios, bringing them back, pitching monsters into the grave yard and bringing them back. Got some double bolts in with Zevlor to help control the board and it was going well.
OPP 1 was playing [[Lozhan, Dragons' Legacy]] and OPP2 was on [[Skanos Dragonheart]] / [[Guild Artisan]]. It was double dragon in my pod. Lozhan was popping off early making him arch-enemy, so Skanos was focusing him down and I just tried to keep to myself. [[Ghastly Death Tyrant]] was eating big hitters, and then coming back to wipe backgrounds. [[Dragonborn looter]] chump blocked, tapped to loot before damage, died, and was brought back from the graveyard three or four times.
Skanos was able to keep goading my Death Tyrant and with that, and him focusing on him we ended up getting Lozhan down to 3 life. Skanos and I both had low 20's. I might have had a point or two more than him. At this point Skanos realized he messed up by ignoring me as Lozhan and I ended up forming an unspoken partnership against him. Lozhan swung out on Skanos, in an attempt to take back the initiative and this opened Skanos for me, allowing me to pump my board and swing in. I had done the math wrong however. I did enough damage to take him down to 1 life. Lozhan laughed and asked if I had another Lightning Bolt. Sure enough I did. I show them the last card I had in hand. A foil alt art bolt.. The one featuring the lady who we all assumed was Liliana, but isn't. We're all laughing and I pass my turn. Skanos knows that he has to survive a turn against Lozhan, and if I can untap Zevlor, they're both over. So he says he'll opt to secure second place, and takes out Lozhan and shakes my hand.
I really hope WOTC does another regular priced EDH draft set. I want to build an EDH cube now.
Also, they let me keep one of the new giant dungeon cards.

First of all, I would like to say THANK YOU to all of you that showed so much love to my first post ever in Reddit!
Since my girl Millie got too much hate for wearing white and ruining the best photo of the wedding, I decided to write her sad story and share it with all of you. It's a LONG tale, full of ups and mostly downs (TLDR at the end of the post). Sooo, grab some cookies and popcorn while I spill the tea ;)
******WARNING******** The story features what I believe to be unsettling content (pregnancy loss) for some. It's hidden as spoiler, so please don't click it if it's a sensitive issue for you. <3
Our story starts with poor young adult who shall not be named (because I don't remember her name). God (me) had big plans and challenges for her, as she started with 0 simoleons in an off the grid island, with hopes of her becoming a millionaire. She moved in the big island without money, a place to sleep, a toilet, nothing. The challenge goes like this: raise money from beachcombing, buy a towel to sleep on, buy a bush to pee in, snorkel, plant and build a life from zero. And, under no circumstances communicate with another sim.
This challenge was too difficult. The loneliness and hardships, the struggle to just survive and find food, led this young girl to her death by drowning in the middle of the ocean. It was too soon, so God decided to try this challenge again, giving the new sim a head start.
That leads us to the protagonist of the story, Millie Carson.
Millie Carson is a young adult who moved in the same island, like a castaway. All she found on that island was a towel, some planted trees, a toilet bush and a grave.
The ghost from the grave came often to haunt and tease her and finally became her enemy.
At first, young Millie tried to stay away from other sims but, since they kept coming and visiting, God decided that it was ok for her to have some friends.
Millie's neighbors were Miki and Ali, a happy couple with two babies. They kept visiting and bringing food to their poor young neighbor, since she was struggling so much. Millie grew close with Ali, who came swimming to her island sometimes.
Meanwhile, Millie learned some skills that earned her some money and food. She became really good at fitness, gardening and fishing. Little by little, she earned enough money to buy diving supplies and took up some diving photography and treasure hunting. All those helped her build a tiny wood home which finally had a toilet and a shower and even a fridge. Life was getting better for Millie, until she started having feelings for her married neighbor...
Millie was attracted to Ali: his long blond hair, his green eyes and dark skin. To her surprise, Ali was interested in her as well. She tried to fight it but it was over her own power to resist. They made sweet woohoo and became a couple, while he was still married with two kids.
Love makes you do stupid things and that's what happened to Millie. She fell in love with a married man and, surprise surprise, she got pregnant with his kid.
While on her 1st trimester, she visited her neighbolover's home to tell him the news. His wife, Miki, opened the door and the sight was unbelievable: She was pregnant as well, on her 3rd trimester. Millie chatted with Miki as nothing was wrong and even socialized with her kids for a bit. But it was now time for Ali to learn the truth. Millie pulled him aside and told him everything.
To her surprise, Ali was content with being a parent to their child. Millie felt his support and fell even harder for him, causing her to do the unthinkable: Woohoo with him all over his tiny house while his wife and two kids were inside! They woohood EVERYWHERE: The small single bed, the kitchen sink, the counters, standing... They almost got caught by Miki, but hopefully she was so pregnant that it took her an eternity to reach the woohoo spot.
Millie started thinking about their future. Tormented by her jealousy, she asked Ali about Miki. Miki's super pregnant belly was an indicator that Ali still loves and woohoos with his wife, two-timing both women. To her dismay, Ali confessed his love about Miki, but he was willing to keep his relationship with Millie. But that wasn't enough for Millie...
Without hesitation, Millie served Ali an ultimatum: It's her or Miki. No love triangles, no hiding. Her kid needed a father and she needed support as a poor young woman. All those pregnancy hormones made her unreasonable - she came between a happy couple and now she felt that her lover's wife stole him from her, even though they were already together! The irony!
Millie couldn't get over her feelings, so she invited Miki over and told her EVERYTHING. That she was pregnant. That the father was poor Miki's husband. Miki got even yelled at for sleeping with her own husband. Millie was out of control.
Like a tsunami, a force that couldn't be stopped, Millie called over Ali and told him to break it off with his wife. It was now or never. Ali did as told and suddenly Miki broke down crying, hating life and those two who ruined it.
Eventually, Miki left and the.. happy couple were finally alone. Millie asked Ali to move in and he gladly accepted. He even proposed and they stayed engaged until after their baby girl, Angelique, was born.
Meanwhile, even though Miki was hating them, she still came over with extra food like a good neighbor. But her relations with the couple never improved much.
The happy couple decided to get married. Millie wore a pretty but simple boho white dress, hair down and golden jewelry. But her joyful smile was the prettiest jewel she could wear. It was a lovely, quiet wedding on the seashore, during sunset.
Soon after, Millie got pregnant again but wasn't ready or happy for it. Unfortunately, there were some complications with the pregnancy and baby Donovan was born dead. They buried him under a lemon tree and cried for many seasons about him.
Ali started helping Millie with gardening, fishing and diving. But his dream was to finally earn his degree in Communications. He still had 3 classes to pass and then he could enter the PR world. He soon earned his degree with a low to medium score and was ready to start working. There was a huge problem, though...
The island was off the grid and he could not apply for the job, not use the very much needed internet. A decision had to be made: Should they live on this island forever, living off the land, or they should move somewhere else and follow Millie's dream to become millionaires?
The choice was easy. The couple moved to Finchwick, in a big cottage house with a big garden, front and back. They brought with them the plants they had gardened with so much love and also bought some chickens. Life was good for a while, baby Angelique was growing but woohoo life was... fine.
Ali found a job in PR and had to work all day, even from home. He had to polish his charisma and writing skills and meet new people. So, that made Millie a stay at home mom, a gardener, a housekeeper. But there was no time for her lifestyle needs: outdoor living and working out. She became frustrated and was always in a bad and uncomfortable mood. She had gained a lot of weight from her pregnancy, she hardly recognized herself in the mirror...All this bad mood made her cranky. Everytime Ali tried to woohoo with her, she had no drive. So, their love life went down the drain...
Meanwhile, Ali was doing great at work, earning at least 2000 simoleons per day. He had met many people, and one of them became a really good friend of his. His name was Gabriel and he was thin, with black short hair, dark skin and modern makeup.
Ali was tormented by his feelings when he hang out with Gabriel. He couldn't understand how a man can be attracted to another guy like that. He was open to the idea, but had never acted upon it. It wasn't the looks - Gabriel was pretty basic. But there was something about the both of them that made him feel... amazing. The attention he got from Gabriel, the friendship.. It was like they knew each other from another lifetime.
Every time Gabriel came over, Ali got excited. He was interested in his words and inner world, not only his appearance. One night, he couldn't take it anymore. While they were talking the backyard table, Ali started flirting with Gabriel. Things got heated fast and they shared the most beautiful first kiss. That was exactly what he always wanted to feel, but was missing from his other relationships. He proposed to have woohoo in the home office, while Millie and Angelique were sleeping unaware upstairs...
They woohood hard and many times. It was a total WoohooFest. Morning came and Ali, having not slept at all, got ready to go to work. He didn't forget to kiss his wife goodbye, but he spent the entire day thinking about Gabriel. By night, he had decided to ask Gabriel to become his boyfriend.
Millie on the other side, was getting better. She bought a walking machine and she often went swimming in the river. Her woohoo drive was coming back strong and that meant more time with her beloved husband. They started woohooing more often, but Ali was also missing Gabriel...
God suddenly had an idea! Ali should ask Millie to have expanded woohoo with someone else, and that someone else couldn't be other than (yes, you guessed it) Gabriel. Ali went on and asked his wife and God told her that yes, it would be fun! So, unaware of God and her husband's plans, she happily accepted to engage in multiple sim woohoo...
Ali was so excited! He couldn't believe his ears! He immediately called over Gabriel and explained the situation. Gabriel accepted as well and it was time for Gabriel to meet with Millie. Millie tried to get to know him but for some reason he was distant. She tried to flirt with him but he didn't reciprocate. Millie got embarrassed and locked herself in her room for some time, to recollect herself. It shouldn't be so hard, right?
At the same time, Ali made his move on Gabriel and they woohood. Gabriel was more than excited to get together with Ali. So, why not Millie?
After Millie got over her embarrassment, she came out the room. Ali proposed having multiple woohoo and they did it. Everyone had a pleasant time.
After that, they got together two more times. But, the last time, at Gabriel's house, was the final blow.
Millie kept trying to flirt alone with Gabriel, not getting the message but, DUDE. He was NOT into her. It was heartbreaking. She tried so hard for her husband, her self esteem and again, she was turned down. A second choice. She didn't deserve it. And then, she though about it. The flirt between Ali and Gabriel. How they would have woohoo, the three of them, but Gabriel was rejecting her. It was time for answers...
Millie first told Ali to end the expanded woohoo agreement. It was too much for her. He wasn't happy about it, but he agreed. And then, she asked the million dollar question: "What's going on between you two?". Ali tried to hide it, told her they were only friends. But God was starting to feel bad about poor Millie, so had her ask again: "WHAT'S GOING ON BETWEEN YOU TWO?"
The answer was like a knife, going through her heart. Ali loved Gabriel and that's all she needed to know. Their woohoo life was non existent before and now had found someone who made him feel better, more... alive! That's all Millie needed to know. She went over to Gabriel and try to make a last, desperate woohoo pass at him. Once more, he rejected her. It was all so clear. She was the third wheel.
Her ego and her heart were stomped on the ground, like a cockroach. A beautiful, kind, hard working sim shouldn't go through all that. She headed back home, to the privacy of her bedroom and cried her eyeballs out. Ali didn't come home that night and went straight to work.
The next day, Millie invited Gabriel over. Oooh no, she wouldn't let him have Ali so easily. She would humiliate him first. He came over and she started yelling at him. Her face was red and hot, she was fueled by rage. She ending up giving him the beating of his life. When Ali came home from work, both his lovers were black and blue from fighting.
Baby Angelique started crying. She had woken up. Millie rushed upstairs to help her toddler with her needs, but Ali and Gabriel stayed downstairs. Ali tried to comfort Gabriel, asking him to stay. He didn't care about his marriage anymore. God led them to the hall upstairs, outside the bedrooms. They started woohooing again, right there, like animals!
Poor Millie, as she opened her daughter's bedroom's door, she caught her cheater husband in the act! THE AUDACITY!!! And if it that wasn't enough, when she went over to slap him, he acted like she wasn't there and went to woohoo in the shower with his boyfriend - AGAIN! WTH!!!
At this point, Millie knew it was time to give Ali the boot and kick him the hell out of their home, and so she did. After Ali's lover left, the married couple had a long, heated conversation that only had one outcome - Ali had to move out immediately.
So, he left and rented a one-bedroom apartment in the city. He also decided to ask Gabriel to live with him, and Gabriel happily accepted. A new chapter started for Ali but unresolved things were left in the middle with his wife that needed to be dealt with.
While all these took place, Millie had gotten close with celebrity Rahul Chopra. They became good friends and she was invited to his wedding. It was a one of a kind event because Rahul had a shotgun wedding with his wife when they were teenagers due to unwanted pregnancy. After many kids later, Rahul's eldest daughter, with the villainous valentine aspiration (long story) decided to break her eternally faithful parents up for fun. So they did break up, but they were so made for each other, like puzzle pieces, that it was impossible to not end up together again.
Rahul fell back in love with his wife and they decided to do it right this time. They planned the perfect wedding event in San Myshuno's park, during sunset. The whole family was there and their 2nd child, Philip (YA) would take the professional pictures of the wedding.
The ceremony started, everyone (almost) was seated and the photographer (and me) were preoccupied with taking the happy couples pictures. As the ceremony ended, the couple was ready to share their first kiss as husband and wife. The air was filled with confetti that floated playfully around them, the fireworks were set off behing them and the sun was showering them with the warmest rays. It was a one time opportunity to get the perfect picture. Philip got ready to press click. And then, she appeared.
Millie, clearly bothered and heartbroken by other people's love, made a run for the exit and ruined Philip's perfect photograph. The angry look on her face would forever haunt Philip's mind. Why would that woman ruin this happy moment and why the hell would she wear white at someone's wedding? I mean, you wouldn't mistake her for the bride, who wore an expensive wedding gown, but still... Something was wrong with this girl and Philip had to find out...
After the wedding, Millie went back home. The days passed and the divorce was not finalized. She asked her kid who she wanted to stay with, but without reply. She called Ali over, but he texted back he didn't want to come over. Millie had her -now child- daughter call over her dad. This time, Ali responded positively and soon after he arrived. Millie took him straight to the lawyers to see who will get custody of Angelique.
This time, God had no plans, God left it all to luck. So, unfortunately, Ali won custody of Angelique, who immediately went to live with him. Now, Millie was alone. Only her and her money and her baby son's grave in the front yard. Now she was angry, NOW HE WOULD PAY.
Millie grabbed Ali and went once again to the lawyers. It was now time to split the estate. At least 100k simoleons in the bank, plus whatever the house is worth. Millie wants to get everything, but once again, God won't interfere. She comes back home, head down, beaten - she lost 80k.
She turns to her new friend, Philip. He is basic, but he's a good guy. He lives alone in an apartment in San Myshuno, studies Fine Arts in university, comes from a good family. He also has a girlfriend that lives across the hall from him, but Millie doesn't know. And God tells her to come onto him. Now Philip has two girlfriends and God must interfere.
God and luck are playing games with Millie's life.
As I'm writing her story, there's only one thing I feel: Sad.
This girl started out with hopes and dreams. So I think that we should forgive her for attending a friend's wedding wearing white. Some God forgot to change her formal outfit and it was all she had to wear. She's going through a lot!
Her story ends for now, but if you guys like it I might write more about her life's adventures.
Also, what should she do with Philip? Let me know in the comments!
If you read this whole essay / story , you are amazing! And thanks! Hope you liked it! :)
TLDR: YA woman starts with 0 money in off the grid island. Wants to earn a million. Gets pregnant by married neighbor with kids. Marries him and they buy new home. They get pregnant second time, lose the baby.He gets a good job, meets new people, gets new guy friend, has woohoo with that friend. The 3 of them have expanded woohoo. Woman breaks it off. Woman confronts husband about loving other man, he confesses he loves him. Woman kicks him out and he lives alone in flat. The other guy moves in with him. Woman heartbroken, goes to friends wedding wearing white, is angry at happy couple's love, ruins the married couple kiss photo. Photo becomes famous on Reddit. Woman loses custody of only child. Woman loses 80k simoleons after splitting estate. Woman becomes girlfriend of the photographer from the friend's wedding. Photographer already has another girlfriend.
*****EDIT*********** I can't believe I forgot to write this, but Millie also drowned in the ocean while being fatigued from diving for treasures. I decided to not save and give her a second chance. Her life is dramatic, UUUUUUGH!!!!

Hey everyone, as most of you know many Grade 12’s have to accept a university in about 2 weeks and I’m so lost rn and I figured I could get some advice to help in my decision.
Waterloo- I applied to geography and aviation and I would have to commute through bus/train as my parents are uncomfortable leaving me alone (I live in the GTA, around an hour and a half away) which I am ok with, but I looked up how to get to the airport through commute and it seems hard to get there as it is on the opposite side of the city, in a more rural area. I also heard the flying portion is expensive but idk how much but some have estimated around 100k and apparently OSAP doesn’t cover that portion. I have always wanted to be a pilot (very hyper-fixated on planes, I track them, visit airport almost all the time to take pics of planes, always try and talk to pilots and even have a collection!!) also I want to work for a large airliner so I can travel places also to work on big airplanes and I have visited the campus and it seems pretty chill which makes me excited to see what’s prepared for me! I am also a female and people have warned me that I would get disadvantaged because of my gender in a male dominated field. I did get a $1000 scholarship the other day but I can raise it to $2000 if I bring my average up.
UofT- I applied to social sciences and it is closer to me and I am able to live at home while studying. I am able to take a car to drive to the campus as I live very close to the campus which is more convenient than a bus/train. If I do take this path, I want to become a diplomat which I am ok with in doing but it means more studying and school where I most likely will do my masters, which is more money out of pocket too. I do not want more schooling as I want a job as soon as I am done but it’s not easy for only an undergraduate with a social sciences/ Bachelors of Arts degree. My siblings also went to UofT in the same field (social sciences) and they told me they really enjoyed it despite the workload/ pressure they received during their time there and made friends and found their community.
What should I do?!??!

I have had a bleeding heart plant in my garden for 30 plus years that has always came up and bloomed. This year there is no trace of it. I looked up the issue and some sites said critters sometimes will eat them, but on another site it said they are poisonous and they stay away from them. I did read that they require adequate amounts of moisture, and wondered if our mild Winter had anything to do with it. My own heart will be bleeding if they don’t return next year ☹️. The plant was originally located in the yard of the house I grew up in. My mom loved growing them and when she passed, I asked my dad if I could take some of it. Now it has been years since they both passed, and I have divided and given some to three family members, but they all have moved away. I was excited for this year, since my daughter planned to dry some and use in resin art to make me, and my siblings something to cherish. I’m really hoping it was because of the weather, and they have a chance to come back, because I doubt we will have another Winter like the last. At least in my lifetime.

"Magic battles revolving around creativity" This is the logline for Fading Runes, my game. It's a strategic mobile game that use a unique way to involve the player into actions; the story is episodic with different protagonists that find themselves trying to resolve an huge crysis with many different facets. The game itself want to balance its uniqueness and the the following of trends/clichè.
The team as for now consists of me and u/AmadeusHerrera .
I'm a game designer studying computer science and an amateur artist, Amadeus is a music composer and sound designer. I'm looking for other 2D artists for concept art and/or Skeleton 2D animation that could help in finish the first prototype (two/three months). (i'm using Spine).(3D art is optional as for now) Here are the links of the team members portfolio:
Me:

• My blog of game design and development: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/magic-yard-of-pidrav (you can actually see some posts about the project)
• My artstation: https://www.artstation.com/pidrav1 there's not a lot but it's something.

The sound Designer :

• portfolio of music and sound design: https://vizzy.com/@AmadeusHerrera

The whole project will probably take some years, and I hope to make new friends and collaborators along the way! Other details: In the last year I have decided to start to explore more the joys of cooperation in a bigger project!Currently we finished the first loop of design, I have a world, the first part of the actual story, main mechanics and interface wireframes.Then we started development and I'm currently doing the second of the three pre-prototypes before having a first small version of the game.
As for the music and sounds as said by my collaborator, we’ll feature a rich soundtrack featuring different styles to match each in-game location. On top of that each character's theme will evolve and adapt to its surroundings; not only will it help us depict the character’s current situation but also will serve as a way to convey their story through music.
If you have any other questions DM me or comment!

Hey guys, I'm writing this post as I think I've ran into a wall/bump in my journey that I don't think I can get over myself. I've been suffering for quite a while now (~10 months) and after a long long time of barely any progress, I feel like I'm actually making steps at my goal of getting better at life for greater enjoyment for myself and the people around me. I've had to learn many different basic concepts like the different types of desire such as pleasure and duty, and that the intellect and emotion are separate, even learning about the root chakra and being able to pinpoint it allowed me to better my lethargy.
When I was young, I used to go outside to play with the other kids who lived in our street. I wasn't necessarily close to them as friends and didn't know them that well as people and didn't really know how to talk to them. I don't know why, but I made up for it by doing dumb shit and being silly like climbing trees or finding some kind of external activity and covering it up my with excitement to hide the awkward feeling I was feeling at the time, that would then haunt me for the rest of my life. I was an annoying kid. I don't remember much what it was exactly that I did but, when the other kids got tired of my shenanigans, I would just keep going as that was the only way I knew how to communicate. This ended up giving me the reputation of the "danger child" in our neighborhood (there were 4 other kids from different houses) which led to their parents not allowing me in their yard to play with them. I don't remember exactly how I felt but I think I was mostly unbothered. But I have very distinct memories of watching the other kids play in their yard from the other side of the fence. I definitely felt isolated and cast out and I think some anger as well because if they wanted to let me in, they could and would. They just had to ask their parents. But they didn't, and they rubbed it in my face too. To which I was kinda like wtf but it's okay because I didn't take it personally and had no problems 'leaving/detaching' them since I wasn't close with them anyways. I wasn't attached. Nor did I know how to form attachments.
This inability to form attachments has followed me throughout my entire life like some kind of ghost. When I first started school, at the age of 7 (I just turned 7, the other kids were gonna turn 8), I still didn't know how to form attachments. I had a few friends and were part of a friend group (there were 5 of us), and I wasn't necessarily as close with those people as I think there was potential for it to be. We all played games, there was some of us who played Minecraft but I played different minigames than them (I played PVP stuff, they played survival/factions stuff). They sometimes came over and joined me in skywars but I rarely did the same. They kept asking me to join them and play survival with them but I kept saying no. Sometimes I gave in to the pressure and ended up not enjoying it because I didn't understand the game. I only saw the game aspect and didn't even take a moment to consider the friendship aspect of the session. There was no desire in me to, and my little young grinding PVP self never knew it existed either.
This inability to form attachments lead to me being bullied for a lot of my school life where I was the 'isolated lonely kid' in classes that I didn't have any friends in. The bullying itself wasn't too extreme because I would fight back but it was a constant struggle for peace while constantly feeling out of place and isolated. Around 13-14, being the isolated lonely kid eventually led to pretty strong social anxiety in secondary school to which I dealt with via suppressing and intellectualizing the situation, constantly telling myself "They don't care, they're not paying attention to you", "it's all in your head and you know it" etc... I constantly feel like I have to 'perform' around people, make jokes and be silly etc..., to keep them close. Sort of how a twitch streamer has to constantly entertain their chat to keep the viewers. Otherwise, I have nothing to offer, we just end up sitting in silence unless I do my silly act. It's like my brain is incapable of having a conversation with somebody because there is nothing I can offer. I have nothing to say.
I realised around 19 (I'm 20 now) that an interaction requires two different people going back and forth, both sharing their inner worlds. But I always struggled with feeling emotion and exploring my inner world, as well as feeling the desire to interact and forming attachments to things. I always looked at people with lives rich of emotion, no matter if it's good or bad (sadness, happiness, excitement, heartbreak) with jealousy. I thought that was just how I was born and that's it. But Dr K has shown me that is not the case, he showed me a new world, the inner world. I have since been exploring the inner world, and I have come to realize, that I do not feel. Not as much as I'd like to. I cannot see the beauty of philosophy, the expressive nature of art, the messages from the little things in life that are shown in poetry, and I do not know why. I managed to do it once, see the beauty of life, which was when I checked out about Dr K and found a new job, the people were very supportive, it took me a while before I felt comfortable (~6 months) but eventually I ended up loving them and having a great time. That was when I worked at it super hard, and finally managed to see the beauty of life, could talk to any stranger, and felt hopeful for the future. It was through emotion. And ever since I left that job, it has not been the same. I lost this beautiful experience of life that I finally managed to acquire, the one that I was so jealous of, and haven't been able to get it back since. Thing is, I know it's there, I know the beauty is out there, so I've been making efforts to get it back.
It's been so difficult because nobody seems to feel "not neurotic enough" or a lack of emotion, and all the emotional issues are to do with feeling too much and how to deal with upcoming emotions. Fortunately, I've found and started reading a book called "The Tao of Feeling" and even though I'm a few pages in (my mind for some reason was resistant to reading the book), the quotes and the contents of the book for some reason move some kind of string in my heart. It talks about parental neglect and how it leads to stunting of the child's emotional growth due to not meeting their emotional needs. I never really thought of that as the cause of the problems in my life (because the problem is my inability :P), and I don't recall much from my childhood apart from that I didn't really have other kids to play with no matter if they were around me or not. My mom is pretty explosive and shouts quite a lot. Always mad, always shouting, guilt-tripping during discussions, never taking responsibility etc... She's known for her 'character' in the family and everyone is scared to go against her. She has multiple issues of herself but never shows any of that as she doesn't want to be seen weak. She's not a bad person though, she tries her best but the pattern is recurring. The fact that I had to deal with mom's strong character paired with social anxiety and other parts of my growing up have led me to develop a protective mechanism where I can just 'close' my heart on command. Sort of like detaching myself from a situation/person at will. I finally mastered the act of "not caring" that I strived for so much during my school days.
I've pondered this a bit and realized that all of my issues, lack of emotions, inability to form attachments, and even purpose and motivation issues lead to the same source. The struggle to see the internal world and the closing of the heart. I'm unable to tell how 'deep' a certain thought or an emotion is, I struggle to differentiate between the surface and deep emotions. Today I asked myself the question "If I start a new job, and was presented with a person right now in front of me, what would we talk about?", and nothing came up. Nothing. But when I presented the question as "If I start a new job, and wanted to make somebody feel better, what would we talk about?" And it instantly came up. I knew exactly what to do. When given a goal, I know how to fulfill it. Then I asked myself, "Why would you interact with somebody? For what reason?" And nothing came up. Again. When asking this, I got a sensation in my heart and it felt like it was blocked. There is a want inside my heart but the desire is not. I think I identified the issue but I do not know how to go about it. This is the wall that I've ran into.
My question is, how does one open their heart? For themselves, and the people around them? Any help would be appreciated and I was wondering if Dr K has any thoughts on this. Sorry, long post. But I feel like this info was necessary. And if you guys have any further questions, feel free to ask. Thank you :)

The last mix in a 4 part series of Aussie Hip Hop Classics is now posted on Mixcloud.
Please share widely and favourite & repost on Mixcloud to get these tunes on heavy rotation where they belong forever because they are all homegrown Aussie classics.
The series features original art work from Andrew Gibbons @andrewgibbonsart out of Melbourne.
Aussie Hip Hop Classics Part 4 tracklist Mixed & Cut Up by DJ Fib Lazy Grey feat Ken Oath - Have a Beer (Intro) Japh C, Ransom - DJ Ransom’s Tribute to Scratching Mama’s Funk - Funkstikool Theory 1200 Techniques - B Boy Shit The Funkoars - Masterpiece Bigfoot & Fletchrock - Destroy The Rhyme Under Dwella feat Shunda K (Yo Majesty!) - I Can’t Wait Bias B - Kings + Toys Blunted Stylus - Wot - Blow Your Mind - Bob Jam Hunter & Dazastah - I’m a Cunt B.U.N.K.S. - Soul Rebel Music Lazy Grey feat Len One - Freedom Fighters Money Kat - Get Yours Jake Biz - Brisbane Bullshit TBG - Real Pride Trem - Hard Yards Def Wish Cast feat Quro - Circle Round Park Bench Royals - One Time Live MC Que - Tellin’ it like It Is

"I don't make them stand in front of the miniguns." Me, responding to a 199X email asking how I keep my NPCs from being shredded by miniguns.
“Did I dream myself to death again? Don’t we have a guy for that?” - Electric Warrior [T/M], behind the scenes at his marathon 3 week dreamstream.
“All I remember is I was watching AR porn when I rammed into the biggest cock I’d ever seen.” Cyrus Pessoa [M/D], testifying at his manslaughter trial for rear ending a city bus with a Citymaster, killing 27.
“At any point in your life did you consider moving on from the fat crayons?” Sativola [F/D], rated 5th most influential art critic, reviewing a work by Oihenarte Janosek [M/D]. The value of all of his works dropped by 95% after the comment.
“Did you see him hit the ground and die? No? Cuz, I don’t care how far he fell out of that helicopter, he’s your arch enemy. They simply don’t go out like that.” Matriarch [F/H], Author of “Chromed Memoirs: Yet Another Goddamn Runner Story”.
“Discretion isn’t all that necessary if your enemy isn’t paying any attention.” Silentstar [F/H], from her book “Woah, There: Logical Run Planning”, p. 2071
“Don’t pick at it.” - Simple advice that a recent New England Of Medicine study showed would prevent 15% of post-op cyber and bio infections if followed.
“For every bed of roses, there will be a bed of thorns. Which will you lie on?” - Riku [H/M], Leader Of The “Front 50/50” Policlub, one of the new breed of ‘Economist Policlubs' to crop up in recent years.
“He who laughs last often doesn’t realize how severe his injuries are yet.” Tiffany Gawronski [F/O], former DocWagon employee and host of “The Shadow’s Stupidest Samurai”.
“I am happy to report that the two sides have agreed to cease hostilities at midnight. Until then, and I quote, ‘The game is motherfucking on.’” - Kiley Correra [F/E], arbiter for the Babakku and Konton-Shi gangs, ending (eventually) weeks of bloodshed.
“I did show an astonishingly high aptitude towards surviving falls from very high distances, but they don’t really give bonuses for that.” - Celese [F/H], from her autobio “I Was A Runner Wannabe", p. 2073
“I gave up crime so I could go about stealing shit the legal way.” Alexa Mossadegh (Shadowstalker) [F/H] in her autobio "Lawyers, Corps And Cops: A Former Runner’s Life On The Top Ten Floors", p. 2071
“I looked down, and it was GONE! I wasn’t even sure which orifice I lost it in!” Ezekiel Lodge [M/E], in a graphic vlog post after a drug fueled encounter with a malfunctioning sexbot.
“I still want the record to show that I beat the living shit out of that donkey.” Dill Wart [O/M], In a rambling police statement after a drunken miscommunication at The Screaming Asses’ 'Donkey Punch' night.
“I take everything a woman has, lock her in a room for a week with nothing but a razor blade, and if she’s still alive after seven days: I give it all back.” Unnamed Evo exec, quoted in “Games Trillionaires Play” (p. 2075), by Felipa Sabo [F/H], (d. 2075).
“I won Body Mod Bod of the year, and all I had to do was get hit by a truck.” Azurepyre [F/E], In a post award ceremony interview with ‘Metal Meat' magazine.
“I’m sorry, but we recently refinished the floors. Your commandos will just have to invade on the lawn.” President Lành Phan [M/H] of Nong Khai after an Udon Thani incursion. The micronations have invaded each other over 60 times in the past decade.
“I’ve been in the midst of an implant assisted orgasm since 2062. Just easier to nev..oh…never shut it off.” - Jenny Gleem [F/H], simporn actress.
“If somebody described a trip to the bathroom as ‘life changing’, you think negatively because, regardless if the experience was good or bad, there’s still a bathroom involved.” Bingo [F/T] from her book “The Worst: Surviving The Z Zone”, p. 2069
“If we lock a man in a room, and return to find the man standing next to a pile of shit, we can no longer even prove that it’s his shit.” Attorney Daniel Brown [M/H] from ‘Magic Mayhem: The New Legal Order’, p. 2031
“Laziness Is Fatal” Loose translation of the motto of Fujitimaha Motors, an automotive sweatshop recently shut down on Japan's Yakushima Island. It is one of over a dozen ‘counterfeit car" operations shut down in recent months.
“Never let another person tie your knots. Even your mom has a tiny part of her that thinks you should die.” Seraphic [F/H], Host of ‘Don’t Fuck Up: Survival In The Sprawl', daily senseburst.
“Operation Dog Fart” The code name casually given by the U.K. to their 2063 Falkland raid, not realizing it would go on to be one of the most successful military actions of the decade, destined to be taught in military academies for years.
“Thankfully, I’m too stupid to grasp the concept of embarrassment.” Big Bubba Bartholomew [M/D], after winning the Butt Network’s ‘Public Pooping’ contest, coming from behind and pinching the lead after destroying his opponent in both mass and precision.
“You can tell a lot about a person by how they laugh. I, for instance, laugh like an asshole, which is 100% on the mark.” Razor, Radio Phree Philadelphia, available on FM receivers everywhere.
“You think I’m disappointed; I think I heard God shoot herself.” - Dawnhunter [F/D], deconstructing the new hopefuls on the hit stream ‘Dumped In The Shadows: From Rejects To Runners In 30 Days.’
“We’ve made a pretty good business out of other runners fucking up royal.” Resolution [M/T], Owner Of ‘Pinch Hitters Runner Support Services'.
“Facts, when combined with an assault cannon, constitute the greatest force in the world.” Anvil [M/O] ‘KnowNow’ Policlub And Militia Leader
“We just put a lot of effort into getting our enemies to exhaust all but one option, and then pounce on that option.” White Pony [F/O], DeeCee Area Runner.
“A fertile mind needs a lot of shit dumped onto it to grow to its full potential. It’s either that or they drown in the shit.” Lam An [M/H], Commander, Bogota Bravo Faction, During Sentencing For The Murder Of 278 Child Recruits
“I’ve found that changing my mind at the last minute only results in two fuckups instead of one.” Province [F/H], Boston Area Runner
“If knowledge is dangerous, I feel pretty safe around here.” Random Patron, “Dumbs Bar And Grill”, After Passing The Location’s ‘Lack Of Intelligence’ Test.
“It wasn’t until I made all this fucking money that I realized how many friends I have.” - Biggie Bang [D/M], DJ And Recording Artist.
“I got so many Colt M23s crammed into my bathroom alone that I have to shit in the yard. The neighbors don’t complain, probably because of all the Colt M23s I got crammed into my bathroom.” - Finnick, Fence
“Running on fumes is still running.” – Blackjack [M/H], From The Autobio “Grade D, But Edible: 25 Years In The Sprawl”, 2051 SimonEl Press
“Running is like adding too much garlic to a salad; Rude if you’re feeding vampire…...I’m not sure where I was going with that.“ - Chris, The Cracked Cranium Comedian [O/M].
“Another 50k run? I still owe ten grand from the last one!” - Stoobie [D/M], 17th Worst Sammy In The Sprawl.
“All these conceded masses who think they matter because of their differing opinions disgust me! I’m better than you! Just accept that and watch!” - Erika Grey [F/H], Commentator, XF Zero NewsEve.
“Apathy is pulling the trigger and not giving a shit whether or not it fires. True apathy is not bothering to pull the trigger at all.” KillJoy [H/M] [DECEASED], Samurai , From The Bio “Dented Chrome: Streets, Sewers And Suicide”, 2065 SimonEl Press.
“Pull your head into your shell, little turtle. I’ll be ready with the guillotine when you poke it back out.” Dzuljeta Ji-Hye [F/H], Former CIA Sniper, From The Bio “One Chance”, 2071 Simon El Press.
“Facts only make it harder to form a pure ethos. I despise you. I don’t need to know why.” - Ho Bustillo [M/H], Humanis Policlub Initiate.
“A lie will rumble through the sprawl for days before the truth even gets its shit together.” Joeann Dimario [F/E], Investigative Reporter, InDeep News.
“It isn’t the lights and cameras that frighten a true performer. It’s what happens when the lights and cameras are turned off that gives us nightmares.” Dyna [F/E], Former Megastar, From The Autobiosim “It’s Not A Star, It’s A Flare”, 2068 SimonEl Press.
“The only thing a fuckup can learn is how to be a better fuckup, regardless of the tech involved.” – Sif Simon [F/H], Synaptic Enhancement Surgeon.
-bjk

I will be Charles is the story of a young man leaving his childhood behind and making his way to Basgiath. As I read the story I feels anemic, like I’ve left out too much, but it was never intended stand on its own, it’s mainly a character build for another chunk of story to come. Let me know what you think, be blunt and honest, but it’s my first fiction ever, so be gentle, like Tairn!
A time eighty years before the rebellion…
The headmaster said nothing as I gathered my bag and walked away, but his foreman, a large, solid, sharp man who’d spent the last four years alternating between driving me like a slave and teaching me to ride and fight and work hard and most of all how to be a man called out “remember your lessons boy, and make something of yourself. Nobody is coming to collect your body when you fail”. Other young men stood and stretched their backs as they watched me walk out the gate of the forced labor farm that called itself a boy’s school. Their expressions ranged from relief at the possibility that they too might escape this life to sad happiness as a couple of them waved their farewell. One week, I have one week to be there for conscription day. Then things change.
A fish from the stream and one ear of corn for a meal. That’s all I was willing to take from the field beside the road. I would have worked for it if I’d been able to find the owner. But time is short and I hadn’t eaten in two days. I could travel like this for years, working a little and seeing the land, but my mind is made up and my need for adventure and station is real. So I starve and I walk. Eating what I need, sleeping where I can. One goal pulls me along, the vision of living a life of my own choosing, of riding and fighting and being a part of something real… and the dragon, my own best friend and partner as we fly and fight and serve the king and the people of Navar. Not that they ever did a fucking thing for me. My loyalty is transactional, and my service is to the people, fuck the king.
“YOU THERE” a voice calls, not friendly but not angry enough to be the owner of the onions and potatoes I’d taken last night to make a soup of rabbit. The man pulls his horse to a stop ten feet away and looks down at me. “It’s a day in each direction to any town. Why are you here?” I look around completely confused, but know a noble’s ranger when I see one. “I’m walking to Basgiath, two more days that way, right?”. The ranger looks me over and sees no weapons but the hunting knife, just me and my large pack trudging along the road. “You may travel the road, and you may camp at the bridge you will reach by nightfall. You may take a rabbit and you may fish at the bridge. You will take nothing else. Agreed?”. I look up at him innocently, “thank you for the clarity Sir, I will camp at the bridge. I did take some potatoes yesterday, and an onion, for a stew.” The ranger grins and gives a little nod “what school?”. My shoulders drop a little, but I stand erect and answer truthfully “I am schooled at Piramin’s School for Boy’s, Sir”. The ranger laughs and shakes his head “NOBODY cares who you are boy. What man will you become? What school at Basgiath? I was infantry myself, for twenty years I wore the blue with pride, and last year I retired to become ranger of these lands”. I think about what he just said and almost change my mind, infantry was a safer choice after all, at least it wasn’t a lifetime commission, but my chin came up and my eyes locked on his, “Rider Quadrant, Sir”. The man grinned ear to ear and looked me over with a much keener eye, “you have it in you boy, arrive rested and strong, because once you’re inside they will try to kill you. It’s only the very strongest who survive that school, and even then, you’ll be flying a fucking dragon through the sky for years. Make your peace and bury your past. Nothing matters inside Basgiath except who you are that day.” He pauses for a moment and pulls something from his pack, “do me a favor, when you get there go to the Commander of the Infantry, his name is Wainright, and hand him this, tell him Eldric remembers him well. Then go get your dragon, ok?” The package is as long as my forearm, hard and heavy, and wrapped in a thick cloth. I put it into my pack securely and agree, “Commander Wainright, I will.” The ranger heads back the way he’d come, “good luck boy, study hard too but remember, it’s combat and dragons that keep the Riders alive.”
“Holy shit”, the words escaped before I knew it. As I topped the last ridge and got my first look at the face of my future my heart stopped and I stared for a full minute at the incredible thing that was Basgiath War College. If I’d known that view was so close I would have walked the extra hour last evening and camped atop the ridge. I’d been passing more buildings and houses, and a full on town lay nestled in the valley before the college. I estimated it would take all day to reach the gates, but maybe a good meal and a little extra sleep would serve tonight. I see no reason to be early on conscription day. Given the increasing number of wagons and travelers tomorrow would be a nightmare of long lines and military bullshit. I was used to it, and knew that the last guy in line had the same chance as the first, at least for tomorrow’s test.
Halfway through town I hear a familiar sound and turn off the road to a little band of shops one street over and sure enough, there sat a sturdy but pretty girl pedaling a sharpening wheel as she honed a short sword. A sweaty larger man, dark of skin and darker with the soot and iron dust on his face and arms came forward as I watched the girl, “new soldier eh? Have you a sword?”. I looked up and smiled at the man, “I’ll be a rider or a dead cadet soon, I was hoping to cross the parapet tomorrow with weapons of my own, since none are issued in the riders quadrant. I have no coin, but I brought trade if you’re interested”. The large man scowelled, “do you have any idea how many broke children stop at this very shop as a last chance before entering those gates? Hundreds, every year it’s the same. I have no money but here’s a chicken”. The girl giggled a bit but I simply waited politely for the man, after a moment he relented, “I see that you’ve grown up working. What have you to trade?”. That was my cue. I slipped my pack off and it made a heavy clunk as I set it down and began digging to the very bottom. The man went back inside to stoke a fire as I worked for his answer. Finally standing with a hatbox sized bundle I look the master weapon smith in the eyes and say “two things, actually three. I have enough Victik alloy to make a half dozen short swords, enough folded and fired stock to make two very nice longer swords, and last but not least, as my eyes shifted to the girl, four yards of pretty blue Berelli fabric, straight from the islands via Bravik last year. Lastly, I’m strong and offer my sweat and my back for the day. I could use the work and it looks like you could use a boy for a day. What I want in return is a few daggers, a short sword, and a good pair of boots”. The smith’s eyes, big with the revelation, pored over the metals, which were rare and valuable to the right smith, his daughter stood to see the fabric and both shared a look, then the man took the items and walked into his shop. “Get started” was the only answer.
Ten hours later the smith helped stack the last thousand pounds of ore. Heavy canvas bags full of slaggy sharp chunks of metal, that cut the arms and hands right through the bags. I wore the gloves, the smith did not. The girl still sat at her stone, honing infantry swords to perfection and selling dozens of them to young infantry prospects or their parents. Next door, the leather shop churned out boring but well made scabbards for swords and daggers as fast as the three ladies could go. As we finished a kind lady and her son rolled up with a large push cart full of cooked food and prepared meals on crockery plates. The smith called out to greet her and went to wash his hands. I followed and the girl finally got up from her wheel to pick out food for their dinner. The smith said, as we took turns at the luke warm bucket of day old water, washing our hands and arms, “you will eat with us tonight, and there’s a cot in the loft if you like. It’s better than you’ll find anywhere between here and Basgiath. You worked hard and well today. Thank you for being good help. Your new weapons are still tempering. We’ll take a look in the morning.”
Dinner had been wonderful, that older woman knew her craft and she knew what hungry working men and women wanted. Lots of energy laden greens, potatoes in a way he’d never had them before, and a large portion of meat with gravy. I didn’t ask what the meat was. It was fair size chunks, and dark. I think it was maybe goat or sheep, at any rate it was the best meal I’d had in years, and not a drip or a crumb went to waste.
I slept well and long that night, dreams of dragons and horses and hard work and the possibilities behind those gates. When I woke it was already daylight and I jumped from my cot to run downstairs. The smith laughed as I came down the ladder, “don’t worry boy, I’ve not pulled them out yet, and you have plenty of time to get there today.” I smiled huge, hoping for a couple of clean steel fighting daggers and a short sword, maybe a throwing knife if I’d earned it, but when the smith pulled the rack from the annealing oven my breath caught. There before me lay four standard daggers, two slightly longer knives with slightly curved blades and guards over the finger section that looked like a steel version of brass knuckles, a short sword with a heavy blade, and a longer sword, again, with a thick, heavy blade. I gawked as if I’d never seen fresh weapons before. The truth was that I’d been a forge monkey for a few weeks and I’d seen thousands of high production weapons roll out of the large sweat shop in Naisg where the bulk of standard issue weapons came from. But none of those looked anything like these works of art. “These are beautiful Sir, I’ve never seen high carbon black steel come out with a sheen like that.” The smith grinned, “you brought me the ore boy, surely you recognize your own hard work. This is what full hard steel looks like when alloyed with Viktik. This is a small fraction of what you brought me, and all of these are yours, if you can hone them and wait for the hilts to be finished next door. Should be ready in a few hours. Plenty of time to get to school this afternoon.” With the greatest smile I could manage I thanked him profusely and looked at the girl’s sharpening wheel, she stepped in front and mad herself scowl, “no no no. This one is mine and it’s for HONING, not sharpening. YOU start over there, and keep you grubby hands off my wheel!”
I laughed and got to work, quickly shaping and bringing the blades to the correct angle as the smith checked in over and over, “no, shallow is for slicing game. Make a combat blade with a thick blade, thick angle, and deadly sharp edge. Make it tough and make it sharp. Then take it to Mary and let HER hone it for you, she’s better at it and she won’t let you touch her wheel anyway.” Three hours later I delivered the blades to the leather smith next door and began to speak as the man shushed me, looking at the blades. “Rider eh? The smit did you right with these. You must be special. I know what to do, give me a couple of hours.”
Four hours later the smith and the leather smith and I stood between the shops admiring the weapons. The handles were all identically wrapped with fine leather and wire, the swords included lanyards to avoid dropping them from a flying dragon, and the two combat daggers were wrapped and bore the signet of the smith. The smith shook the leatherman’s hand and smiled, “you’ve done me proud. This boy work hard yesterday, so I paid him well. Now boy, you take these weapons up there and you make a man of yourself. And when someone asks you where you got the weapons, tell them!” The leatherman brought forth a brand new pair of boots and set them down, “now boy, listen. These are new and they’re excellent boots, but they will kill you today. The bottoms are slick and need wear. The tops are oily and stiff and uncomfortable until the oil steeps into the leather, and there is no way you’re walking the parapet in these. Tie them together around your neck, and wear them tomorrow. Season them daily for a week, then do nothing to them. Ok?” I admire my new boots and thank the man before running to the gates only an hour before the deadline for conscripts to enter the courtyard.
My pack was lighter, my weapons were fucking awesome, I was well fed and rested in spite of the busy morning. As I walked through the massive gates and into the place I would call home I looked around for the commander of the Infantry. It was my first mission, assigned by a retired soldier and apparently a friend of the Commander. I asked a half dozen people who looked like they should know and only got pointed to the line for Infantry. I dutifully walked to the head of the line and addressed the person standing behind the table, the one who seemed to be supervising more than working at the moment. “Excuse me but I have a message for the Commander of the Infantry, where can I find them?” The woman looked me over and obviously doubted I had anything worthwhile to tell anybody, but finally asked, “who are you and what is the message, the commander cannot be reached out here. She is busy inside, as you can imagine.” I stood tall while she spoke and nodded when she finished, “I’m not sure how private the message is, and I’m nobody. Inside you say. Fine, that’s where I’m headed.” She smiled and touched the man’s shoulder at the table, when he looked up she said “get this recruit’s name and send him inside to formation”, to me she grinned,”after formation there is a short reception for meeting each other. Find her then.” My smile fell a bit as I had to back her up a little, “I’m sorry no, I’m headed to the Rider Quadrant, I’ll have to deliver the message later I guess.” Her eyes were beautiful, but her smile disappeared as she wrote me off, “well you best get on with dying then, it’s a long day for all of us”
Six hours. Six fuckin hours watching everything from cocksure nobels to terrified children who had no business trying fall off the parapet. Finally I stepped into the shade of the turret, where the two cadets in snappy black leather sat taking the names of each recruit as they attempted to enter the Quadrant. “There is only one way forward”, said one of them to a trepid young man two places ahead of me. She pointed to the parapet, a narrow, smooth worn wall cap over two hundred feet above the river, “Riders walk that way”, she pointed to the long spiral staircase behind us, “or you’re a coward and can try to make it back down without getting shoved off the side. Either way hurry the fuck up, are you a Rider or not?” The boy determined that risking his life was better than the embarrassment of cowardice and set out along the narrow path. He didn’t even scream when he fell.
My turn at the table, “name?” The woman asked. It was a simple question, every recruit ever had been able to answer it. I hadn’t even considered the question and just looked at her literally dumbfounded. “Name” She repeated. “I, um, don’t have a name.” My answer was firm and confident, which only confused her more. Her partner looked up at me “give us your name, we don’t give a flying fuck what you’re running from, you’ll probably be dead in a couple of weeks anyway.” I just looked at her, my mind racing. I’d never needed a name before. ‘Boy’, or ‘hey’ had always been sufficient. I knew I’d have to have one, but honestly if I’d ever had a name it was lost long ago. “I will be Charles” I said, “I like Charles.” The man kept looking at me as if there was more, “Charles”, I repeated, and the man shrugged and told his partner in a mocking tone, “Sir Charles of one name stands ready to cross.” The two laughed as the woman pointed with a thumb, “good luck, cross the parapet and give your name on the other side and you will be Cadet… Charles.”
The least eventful part of the day, I looked at the parapet and on toward two children who seemed hell bent on falling off the thing. I shift my pack and walk out, it was breezy, but damn the thing was easily as wide as my shoulders, more or less flat on top and with rounded edges. I mumbled at the children ahead of me “it’s a fucking sidewalk, get up and walk.” As I reach the first of them, about halfway across, I reach down and grab his pack straps and haul him upright on the parapet, making sure his feet were set before I let go. His eyes met mine and I saw pure terror in them. “Hey, it’s a fucking sidewalk. Put your hands out and walk. Quit thinking about the ditch, walk on the sidewalk.” A full ten seconds passed before the kid got his wits and began moving again. We were only a few feet away from the other kid when they fell, the scream lasting longer than I’d expected as the body fell seemingly forever into the river below. I closed my eyes and said a short prayer to Malik before continuing, the boy in front of me nearing panic again, “hey, it’s another thirty feet, just look where you’re going and go there.”
I stepped off the little platform and gave my name when asked, and again the cadet seemed to want more than ‘Charles’. I looked at the pair of cadets and sighed a bit, “I have never had a name, I do not know if I ever had a name at all but they seemed to need one back there so ‘Charles’ is what you get. Just Charles. I have nothing else.” The cadets just looked at him and kind of rolled their shoulders, “well, Cadet Charles, welcome to the Riders Quadrant.”


How do mental boxes work?
Mental boxes work by changing the subject's behavior in a way that is consistent within the framework of the mental box. In the frog example it's easy to understand. However in humans, there are complex interplays between thoughts and behavior, which creates concepts such as self-fulfilling prophecy, self-sabotage, and confirmation bias. These will be explored in later pages.
To start us off, here is a simple example expanded from the previous page:
A student in middle school takes a math class, gets a failing grade, and creates the interpretation ‘I’m bad at math’, which now becomes a mental box.
They go through high school choosing all the easy math classes. Then at university, they choose a major that has very little to do with math (such as arts), which then dictates the rest of their career.
In this example, the student makes both behavioral choices - which classes to take, and which major to pursue - within the confines of their mental box. Perhaps if they didn’t form that mental box, they might have tried to take the same math class over summer, learned from their mistakes, breezed through it, and pursued an advanced math curriculum in high school/college. This could have lead to a STEM career and (probably) a higher salary.
But this possibility no longer exists because of the mental box.
On the flip side, here is an example of someone who was not limited by a mental box, and what that made possible.
But first, a question: "Can humans fly?"
Ask 100 modern-day humans that question, and at least 90 of them would say ‘no, humans can’t fly’. Those 90 are in mental box were human flying is not possible, Even though all of them have probably been on an airplane at least once in their lifetimes, their mental box prevents them from seeing at as such.
This reason this happens is because people have a tendency to make things about themselves. When asked if humans can fly, they think if they themselves can fly. Since the answer is no, they respond as if that is true for all humanity, and that it is a fact (which itself is another human fallacy).
[On a side note, people’s tendency to make things about themselves, and thinking what they say is fact, are two of the biggest reasons there is so much discourse in personal relationships. Recognizing these tendencies and being aware of when you are doing it will make you much easier to get along with, as well make it easier to deal with people. This will be discussed in-depth in relationships (non-romantic).]
But I digress.
In the past (before aviation existed) you could ask up to 100,000 people the question ‘Can humans fly?’, and 99% of them would have said no. However, a pair of siblings basically said "fuck that, we want to fly". They were known as the Wright brothers.
Just a quick introduction - the Wright brother were pioneers in the aviation space who created the first machine capable of flight. Over time, their ideas became the foundation of today's aviation technology.
Specifically, in 1878 when the brothers were still teenagers, their father gave them a toy flying helicopter model powered by rubber bands. They became intrigued at the idea of flying after experimenting with this helicopter and building out various models. Over time, their interest grew, and their imagination allowed them to expand the concept of flying to humans. They sought to make their dream a reality. Through a lot of trial and error (and harsh criticism from the people around them), they were eventually able to succeed.
So now this begs the question, why, when some people get confronted by an obstacle, do they form a mental box (such as the student who failed a math class) while others don't (even if they when are confronted with a similar obstacle)? And in some cases, even take it on as a challenge?
This is what we will explore in the next page.
Click here for table of contents/page links

No, it’s not from any memory disease.
When I first moved into the house I rent-to-own from my real mother, I was excited to see it was a quiet neighborhood and that my half of the duplex (the other half is not owned by us) had a small but nice back yard to garden.
At the time, I was still married to my ex-husband.
The first time we met our shared-wall Boomer neighbors, Pam and Cas, Pam would not stop asking us if we were Catholic, believed in God, etc. Well, after ten years together and six years married, my ex and I realized we were just too different to stay married. I wanted to socialize, get into the cigar industry, work on my art business. He was a homebody who wanted to work in finance and doesn’t like going out, even with friends. I was his first ever relationship, he felt like he wanted to travel, explore dating other people, maybe even move back to his home state where his family was. I didn’t want to move from Pennsylvania to Minnesota. So he eventually moved out and we got divorced.
Pam immediately became insanely ‘involved’. She told me that she was my mother, and that I was her daughter. I told her I had a mother, but she insisted that because I was a young woman, she was ALSO a mother to me. Whenever I went into my yard, she’d hurry outside and openly get weepy over my divorce. Told me she prayed for my husband to return. Kept inviting me over for coffee. I was so uncomfortable with how intense she was about my personal life that I declined all invitations.
Then she started coming into my house. When I’m in the garden, I keep the back door open. She started walking in. The third time it happened, I had closed but forgotten to lock the door after I came inside, and I was in the shower when I heard someone rooting around in my house. I told her to never come inside uninvited again, and she started to cry.
When I startedd dating again, she’d ‘confront’ my date as they left, to ‘see if he was a good man.’ She confessed to waking up at 5am to ‘make sure his car hadn’t been there overnight.’ One morning, I came home from a date’s house to her waiting for me on her porch. She told me she ‘thought I had fallen ill’ because she hadn’t seen me all day, so she ‘listened through the wall’ to see if she could ‘hear me coughing’.
Now, every time I’m outside, I’ll see her curtains move aside, and she’ll hurry out to try to demand I tell her personal information.
My current partner and I are not monogamous. This has caused a hell of a lot of issues for Pam, as she decided she’s free to ‘confront’ us whenever we are in our yard. She weeps, talks about Jesus, tells me that God wants us to be husband and wife, etc. Ironically, the most difficult part of non-monogamy has been Pam.
The thing that enraged me recently is that my mother went through a bad intestinal infection that took her a year to recover from. She lost about 30 pounds and became very skinny. Pam will NOT stop intercepting my mom when she walks into my house. Pam always greets my mom with a weepy, ‘Joan, you are SO skinny! You look SO sick!’
My mom was so sad on Mother’s Day that Pam hurried outside to comment on how ‘sick’ my mom looks.
We’ve told this woman dozens of times to mind her own business, stay out of our yard, stay out of our home, and stop commenting on my mother’s body. And she just refuses to stop! She told my mom I was ‘cheating’ and my mom told Pam that she had prayed so hard for God to send me a husband that God decided to send two men instead of one. (My mom thankfully has a great sense of humor.)
I’m so sick of this. Pam refuses to accept boundaries. And yes, she has children and grandchildren who regularly visit. I’d be friendlier if she wasn’t so stressful and judgmental.

Mine went too far. As in, odds are there will be police involved.
So, it started out with the normal stuff. Spray painted the lawn, windows, lockers, etc. dumped thousands of rubber ducks around the school.
Then they stole they keys to the classrooms. Most people did small things: flipped desks over, stole teacher’s stairs, hid duckies, etc.
Notable things that happened: a teacher had a bear given to her by her mentor 20 years ago, and it was stolen (still has not been found). People trashed the art room to the point where they broke art supplies, and also crushed all the snacks the art teacher kept (bought with her own money) and spread them around the room. Two rooms’ worth of calculators were stolen (have not been found). Several chairs are missing. Desks were thrown together (think as if starting a bonfire) in one room, breaking at least one. The spray paint for the yard was left out, and someone stole it and painted more on the concrete. Turns out the person who bought it got the wrong kind, and it’s actually permanent and the school will have to paint over it.
Also, two teachers flat out cried.
Welp, guess no one’s ever getting a senior prank here again. There’s already talks of police sitting in the parking lot in future years. And this is after some teachers specifically schedule stuff during senior skip day and tell seniors that if they skip they’ll get a 0 so that they can’t.
Whoopee.
TL;DR: The senior prank involved flat out vandalism and stolen property, and odds are there will never be another senior prank at my school again thanks to this.

Solved: Space Quest 6
My son called me up and said - do you remember this game.. and I said.. ahh no, but I know where to ask...
Platform(s): PC. The way he described it, and that we had pc's at home, lead me to this..
Genre: Point and click adventure (Maniac mansion sam and max.. reader rabbit...)
Estimated year of release:
He was born in mid 90's so I would say 2005? ish
Graphics/art style:
No idea. Sorry.
DETAIL.
he can remember one point where you fell down.. maybe from an airplane... building.. outer space.. but when you landed you got stuck in the ground, and people were walking around you. I asked how he got out of it - he said he thought maybe if you talked to the right person they would pull you out. But that's it.
I was thinking - sam and max?
Notable characters:
Sorry.. this ain't an easy one...
Notable gameplay mechanics:
Pretty sure its a point and click adventure..
Other details:
Something that a kid would find interesting.. I know its not a lot, but the group here aren't mere mortals...

I 26f am a bit of a dick, but I consider myself very reasonable and honestly a people pleaser till I'm pushed to that point. My daughter age 7 is in 1st grade and unfortunately this year has found out that not everyone is our friend. She's come up on a few bullies and I feel the school hasn't done jack shit to support their supposed (no bullying policy). Only time something is done about any given situation is when my daughter loses it and defends herself. She's the one that ends up in trouble for fighting back because "she hurt the other student". My kid has a quick left but regardless I'm nothing but pissed.
Yesterday I picked my daughter up from school and as per usual I asked her how school was. She tells me what she's learned and about arts and crafts. After telling me all the good of her day she informs me at lunch she sat by 2 classmates I'll call them A and B. Her and A were talking and eating lunch when B walked up and sat next to them. Everything was fine at first but B managed to talk A into grabbing my daughters chips she was actively eating and throw them into the trash. This isn't the first time. She obviously was mad and did the right thing by telling a yard guard. Mind you my child tries her hardest to be a neutral and unconfrontational individual. Nothing was done. She walked over and told another yard guard and this bitch had the nerve to just grab the chips from the trash and hand it back over to my daughter like problem solved. My daughter was visibly disgusted but was still kind and just put the chips at the bottom of her backpack. I lost my shit hearing this story. Who the fuck wants to eat food that's touched a trash can yet alone food that had a trashcan for housing for the past 15 minutes!? I've been to the office multiple times to talk about situations like this and I'm just speaking to walls at this point and my words toward the office now would spew nothing but venom and possibly catch me a case. Anyway this is where I could be the asshole. This morning before I sent my beautiful baby to school my husband packed up her lunch like normal. He asked her if she liked her peanutbutter crackers she had yesterday because she didnt eat them. She said yes but A is allergic to peanuts. Suddenly a light bulb popped up above my head like a cartoon and I told my daughter to look A dead in the face and rub her peanutbutter crackers all over her lunch even items still bagged. She said no at first because he is allergic. I told her harshly that I honestly didn't give a rats ass and if an allergic reaction has to be what it takes to get someone to stop fucking my kids food then so be it. She agreed. So my lovely redditors AITAH?