Hey KB,
Do you ever find yourself looking out the window at a familiar yet unrecognizable world, like you're not sure whose eyes you are seeing it through? Do the smells of summer ever wash away those hours past noon and blot out the crescendo of time, as if the clouds had swam past and scoffed at the contours of their own shadows?
It's strange, on warm sunny days like this where the wind is muffled by my reminiscence of our days gone by, the blue of the skies is tethered to a reflection of your smile that's barely tangible in memory and it's as if the lens I see the world through is whetted by the dichotomy of past and present.
It's as if we reconcile the mistakes of our past in our own meaningless ways and continue bearing scars that refuse to heal so that whenever we look through the pond of forgetfulness we wonder how it is these spots in our hearts still ache.
When we chat as we still do and carry on this thin façade of nonchalance, I wish you well and hope you are as happy as I am not, but when you recall our end I selfishly find solace in the bitterness of your words as an indication of the tangential wake of our separation--as if the measure of your ordeal betrays the weight of my presence on your mind.
I wish I could just crest this wall of unspoken thoughts between us and ask if you ever miss us like I do, if you ever think of me before you go to sleep and wish I were there instead of in my own bed. I wish I could ask if you ever make up stories in your head of where we'd be now if we never went our separate ways and if you ever imagine the adventures and tales we would tell our grandchildren.
I wonder, in the deepest shadows of my contrition, if you ever secretly pine for the intimacy we had, if you ever wish for another journey down the untrodden paths of time--one that wouldn't end so abruptly. I wonder if I had never shifted my gaze from those dark comforting hues swirling in your eyes, if I had insisted against your will and not given up the fruit of my pursuit, would we now be in a happily-ever-after? Would I not be lost in this vast ocean of uncertainty swimming against the currents of the past and caught in a bottomless churn of vacillation between neither here nor there?
I wonder if the gravity of Jupiter would be enough to pull you back to me or at least coerce a dream or two of our past love--or, I wonder, if that too would succumb to the momentum of our ricocheted trajectories.
There is so much I would like to tell you, all the words caught in the bottom of empty bottles and the moments lost without your witness--the undulating joys and self-inflicted miseries caught in the folds of our remembered love. I wonder how things would be different had I seen through the rough waters ahead and could bear a better future that kept you by my side. But with each inhale I breathed of us, it was as if I could taste the brevity of our time and simply painted a mural with the audacity that we spent it with, as if I was merely crashing in slow-motion and falling through an ephemeral dream of you. You were a flame so bright upon my canvas that I am still cast in your shadows, enshrouded by this souvenir of recollection I never asked for. My memory insists we aren't meant to be past-tense and that it was only yesterday I could feel the weight of your hand in mine, that the present is but an unscripted interlude, and yet here we are years grown apart and as distant as newly met strangers.
In hindsight, we burned for the moon and stretched for the stars but abandoned the fortitude to appreciate one another in fullness. Our destinations managed to diverge on a one way street, forkless yet fractured, and now despite these long years I've spent inching further away from you in our aftermath, I'm still haunted by the absent chance to do it better a second time, to drink every last drop of your smile and soak in the warmth of your skin against mine. Some part of me still foolishly preserves a tract of my heart for the infinitesimal chance of you in my forecast, hoarding opportunities and future narratives so that I may have another chance to spin their webs with you. I know how inexplicably silly it is to still be clutching on to this shred of unreasonable hope for our reunion in this lifetime, to interlock fingers once again and share a glass of wine overlooking the sunset in foreign lands. I wish I could travel back in time, trade every ounce of forward momentum for a hiatus with you in this misguided sentimental vice, this emotional blunder of a lesson I still haven't realized. It feels as if I am constantly falling backwards, stumbling upon my own footsteps and plummeting into memories that have long forgotten themselves and hang on to existence only by a single thread leading back to my heart. It is as if I am shackled to our yesterdays and am drowning in the dark skies above, willfully blind to a future without a prospect of you.
Perhaps one day I will be able to translate the weight of these half cocked years into a new journey. Perhaps one day in another timeline we'll be given another chance to endure the impermanence of our union, and maybe one day beyond the drift of time and our departures from ourselves, you will come to know the fragility of each passing lifetime against your impression on me.
I recognize that what feels so heavy and cumbersome now is just a flicker of life, a symptom of having lived a collection of events between two people, and my emotions are simply in the process of washing away with the gentle waning of the stars. Somewhere in those moments you shared with me must live a remotely tangible lesson buried in transience, shy to my presence and begging for attention. Is this the essence of having lived or is it merely a mischievous blight on the botanicals of my folly?
To think that seven years is but a speck in the immortality of time, it seems more forgivable that I still wish to sink back into your arms whenever I close my eyes. How many more years will be enough to forget your presence in my heart, to forget the feeling of home in your embrace? Are these remnant feelings not to be measured by the cadence of days but by pure tension on the soul?
How much longer must I think of you almost every day and agonize over the fabric of this former love? How many more oscillations of the sun will it take to erode my lingering attachment--these emotional fetters bridling my promise of the future? It should have all faded with each passing second, blown away like dust carried on astral winds. These feelings should have perished along with the shards of us scintillating into the catastrophe of time.
I wonder if your dreams are quiet at night, if our embers have long been extinguished in your slumber? I wonder if you ever cry when you think of how I could have let go of you, or if those tears have since evaporated along with your thoughts of me. I wonder what your days are like, if you are happier without me now, and if you would trade anything to think of me more or less.
I wonder how often you remember me still and if the splash I made in your waters was as staggering as yours in mine--if I still wash upon your shores like your tidal swells that continue shaping my sands.
I want to know if you ever see me in his eyes, or if any part of him reminds you of me and makes you love him a little more. I wonder if you'll ever chase my shadows in waking dreams like I continue to chase yours even after all these years and for years to come. Will your future have forgotten my name or will you still remember the sound of my voice?
Is a piece of me forever lost in you or just lost forever?
I wonder if I should have given you that ring.

Read my previous post to get a better understanding of the situation.
After declining a 2 minute phone call request I made and asking me to message instead, I didn't reply or message. I went into NC. 2 weeks later he broke NC and said " Hey, I realise I never gave you the chance to speak so you can call or txt or whatever you like " we had a bit of back and forth and he kept pressing me to spill what I had wanted to get off my chest. I made it light hearted and said " well, if you spill, I spill" thinking I'm extending an olive branch, and a chance for him to also get anything he wants off his chest too. What went from a fun convo suddenly switched to him being cold and harsh saying he had nothing to say at all and he's only reaching out because I asked to talk. I quickly said " let's do the call another night as its late, thanks for reaching out. Night " and I went back into NC thinking I'd never hear from him again. 11 days later he reaches out at 2:30am on a weekday ( he is usually in bed by 10pm to be up at 6am for work) with this msg -
" You never called back. I assume that means there's nothing to discuss unless you tell me otherwise "
I replied the next afternoon and kept it short saying " Hey, let me know when you're home and free" and he said he'd let me know when he leaves work. That was Thursday and I heard nothing back at all. He just vanished. Today's Sunday and I stupidly reached out with a msg saying I didn't want to bother him or make him feel funny seeing my name pop up on his screen which is why i never followed up on the call, but since he asked and reached out first, did he still want that call to happen? Surprise surprise - I was ignored.
Why try and poach me like that only to hurt me? Why message me at 2:30am asking why I hadn't called then for me to respectfully respond then ignore me for days? I don't understand what he's getting out of it?
I feel I lost my power after having the upper hand being solid with NC (with him reaching out each time)!!
How do I get my power back? I know going no contact again but any other way? I'm so angry with myself. He continues to watch my stories too!
Taking ALL ADVICE! Even petty advice!

--⧼ BEGIN Broadcast Message ⧽--
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Priority Level: Urgent
:: From ::
Center Arm of the Emperor, Planet Laran
:: To ::
All Survivors of Fellow Royal Cast Broods
:: Message ::
The Emperor has graciously permitted the use of his Excellency's summer home on Planet Laran, located in the Empire's Center Arm, as a temporary refuge during the unprecedented violent Terran offences against His Holiness and the holiness of the Omni-brood of Ix.
:: Attachments ::
Coordinates and Flight Key
:: Royal Cryptographic Signature ::
Lord La'Ix, The Emperor's Right-Center Arm
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
--⧼ END Broadcast Message ⧽--

earlier

"CURSE THEM! The great houses are going to have my bloody head for this! There is no way this should've happened and under my command too! The Golden Emperor's own exotic holiday world has gone to ash and the only one to blame is going to be me. Well it was basically my watch anyways. Curse. Them. All"
Those were the only legible sounds one could hear among the frantic stamping of one particular Ixian lord as he hurried away through the underbrush of the royal reserve just outside the centre palace. The same Ixian lord that, only hours earlier, was delighting in his typical cooked boar while enjoying his evening's entertainment of a young Terran girl running for her life from a loose Laran tiger. Something about the way those bipeds run always makes him laugh. Some similarly caste Ixian would call this form of entertainment childish, lowbrow, and immature. He would tend to agree. But sometimes he just wanted cheap slapstick humour. The day to day life of the royal caste tends to get dull with all the fine arts an Ixian of his caste is meant to enjoy.
"How did it all go to shit!?! I was always attentive, and there hasn't been an uprising since those terrans were tamed for the palace. I mean we mostly neuter the problematic ones anyways, so why all the sudden aggression?", he shouted in agitation at the emptiness in front of him.
Speeding through the royal garden which in actuality is a repurposed Savannah of the island the palace is on. The Ixian was a beast of speed. Perfectly honed and trained over decades, and genetically maintained over eons, he always proudly held that he was the fasted in his brood of 16. Making a name for himself among the other broodkin for being the most genetically suited for the rank of high general (not that there was any need for generals, there hasn't been need for war in so long). Of course the Ixians always pride themselves in having no excess potential, and adapting your environment to suit your biology, but it never hurts to have perfect biology. That's the true pride of an Ixian.
That innate need to change the universe rather than changing themselves is what led to their vast interstellar empire. One that reached from constellation to constellation and then eventually to the arms of entire galaxies, terraforming worlds to the same environment they were already adapted to. Since forcing nature into one's bidding was the most sacred duty of any that shared a lick of Ix biology.
Which was why the Ix was confident in themselves. This Ixian in particular surely felt surprised, but mainly he was only moderately upset at the sudden change of situation, from being comfortable in the royal dining hall to sudden exercise.
"Everything can be changed back. Everything can be changed back." It repeated the mantra to itself. As it began to relax and turn its snarled sharp mouth into a toothy grin.
"Yes, there is nothing to worry about at all. Then let's make a game plan. Just need to make it to the space port at the harbour. Grab a ride out and find someone else to take the fall. That old royal butler is as ancient as the dirt of the broodworld. Hell, he probably was there when it vanished in the shadow of the holy empire's long past." chuckling to himself at the quite witty remark, but saddened that no one else was there to hear it.
Should be realistic enough for the others to believe. But first things first, I need to reach the harbour-master. It thought while its dense muscles powered the beastly lizard-like form on its journey, as it bound in the direction of its destination at top speed on all fours.
The blood red sun was already kissing the horizon by the time the Ixian went to nearly collapse under exhaustion of the extended sprint. He hasn't ran this far and fast than when he a young broodling that won competitions and competitions in the royal sports. I think I might have overdid it. He thought while massaging the oncoming threat of a sneaky cramp in his hind leg.
The Ixian were well known for speed. But their stamina was another thing. There bodies simply didn't have the evolved features for long distance travel. There was never truly any need in the past, as their very steady and controlled climate and sparsely diverse ecosystem on Ix never truly required much challenge.
It turned its panting head to face the way it came, gazing proudly at the great distance it made in such a short while.
But something was off by that view. Something different to what he was expecting. The view itself was mostly fine. Well, as fine as a smoking mark in the distance, presumably from the summer palace being engulfed in flame and spitting great plumes of black smoke. But no, something about this view chilled him to this spine. Craning his neck from his vantage point he could swear there was a small speck in the distance.
What on great Ix is that?
All of a sudden realisation hit like a rock on a peaceful pond. Something was following him. Something unknown and cold was making its way to his location. He was certain it wasn't any of his guards, all guards permitted to serve under the royal summer home were Ixian of course. Physically bred for their strength and speed, and placed into roles of importance like protecting the higher caste such as himself. (Whereas this day being the only exception). It did look like he was the only Ixian that actually made it out of the palace so far. Ixians are able to cover short distances in phenomenal speed, akin to a scaly 4 legged beast of the hunt.
No this was something else.
Feeling a very small panic build up inside, but veiling that cold, unwanted terror as impatience at how far he still needs to travel yet. Lord La'Ix flexed his anterior legs and sped on leaving behind a red-yellow cloud of dust in his wake.
He frowned. Feeling strange at a never before felt sensation. Like something in the back of his perfectly designed brain was screaming a silent, but terrifyingly familiar warning.
"Ix itself is an ancient world. Temperate in climate, while abundant in vegetation and small game. It is unknown how the Ixian was formed on paradise.
The old priest can drum into your heads that I'Ix made us into being by indenting his form in the sand of the first beach and filling the shape with his life. Moulding us into being.
The heretic would counter and say we evolved from a previous species akin to ourselves over the course of untold lengths of time.
The philosopher would suggest that only on paradise would the sentient universe fill in the space for the perfect beings to enjoy the fruits of existence.
Lastly, even the lowest caste Ixian would point and laugh at the rest and say 'why talk about antiquity, when we can make more paradise to fill the heavens'."
-A popular Ixian parable
Lord La'Ix bolted up all of a sudden from his resting spot. Heart suddenly beating frantically. The stars had barely enough time to shift positions when last rested his weary body, only a couple hours must have passed since dusk fell and the world plunged into night.
The silence of the Savannah made sound from afar travel better. Aside from the quiet rustling of the wind he wasn't so sure what he heard. Assuming his bored ears were playing tricks on him.
Calming down, curling up on the flat cool rock he found he started to drift to the shadowless lands where all Ixian go when they dream...
Drums, no, not drums. Some sort of mechanical tool? Not that I ever heard of a tool that just beat the ground senseless. A strange beating sound could be heard, pounding into the ground. As he stayed frozen and very awake, he could have sworn it was getting louder. Closer.
CRACK. SNAP. CRACK.
Suddenly the entire valley echoed the sounds of a few broken sticks.
La'Ix jumped up, whirling around, and came to face something approaching fast that could only be described as a cold predator, not that there were any predators on the homeworld's recorded history. But every cell in his aching body reacted the same. DANGER, DANGER, RUN, RUN.
The silver light of the planet's 3 moons barely lit the valley but what that light bounced off of was a figure in motion. Front Legs pumping up and down, nostrils flaring, eyes too close together, and pupils so large it was like staring at darkness itself.
Hold on there are only 2 legs right? Sudden familiarity hit him hard, memories of last night's entertainment stained his mind. In the name of Ix is that a Terran?!?
La'Ix didn't realise it then, but it was looking at a Terran, despite the Terrans characteristics looking different to the standard slave he was used to seeing. The pumping body of the runner was made for such long distances. Sweat acting as a cooling mechanism, making the man glisten in the harsh moonlight, the enlarged nostrils taking in all the air the body needs for this type of strenuous activity. And the enlarged pupils, made for adjusting to low light environments.
Down on the plains of the Savannah were two creatures. One a perfect evolutionary miracle, practically evolution's first try gone right, Perfectly made for its environment and was never truly exposed to varying climates and environments. And the other, having crawled through the primordial ooze, and struggled and fought its way through dangers, diseases, and competition on its own horrifying world. Where deadly heat in deserts can dry out any living thing, and such freezing poles that can turn anything that enters it in pure ice.
The man's lean and sweat-slicken form was steadily making its way towards the frozen statue of La'Ix. Just as he got within 50 paces did La'Ix sprint away scattering pebbles in its path the echoes of which bounced back from the valley's sharp walls. Undeterred, the chaser kept steadily running. Jaws grit. Eyes locked on afar.
And afar was its prey. Sprinting away.
HOW IN IX'S NAME DID THAT THING KNOW WHERE I AM? The La'Ix in a fit of sudden excitement mixed with a heavy dose of panic, began its high octane sprint from the sudden looming threat of being found. Hind Legs propelling the creature's body forward, while its front arms, which were historically also for four legged locomotion, pulled the terrain closer with each stride. Increasing its momentum until it reached max speed.
"Broodling La'Ix!" said a stern but educated voice.
"Huh? Oh! Yessir!" a young Ix jumped to attention still thinking about more enjoyable things specifically outside of the classroom walls.
"Well? Can you please answer my question or will you make your other broodkin wait until Ix falls to ash first", the tutor said expectantly, prompting several muffles giggles in the room.
"Sorry sir. What makes the Ixian race its place in eternity is the attention we put in perfection. After our home-world of Ix's climate and terrain began to change, the leaders from antiquity decreed we carry on the spirit of the home-world in maintaining a consistent biological and genetic profile that will always be suited to Ix's surface. As we change worlds to be more like Ix, we can spread the spirit of Ix to them. As such, Change is- uh, change is..."
"Change is the poison of perfection, Remaining unchanged for Ix enable us to carry its spirit to other planets in the heavens", continued the tutor. "Well you certainly paid some attention to today's lesson at the very least. But remember that final part. It's the last of the core tenants you will need to remember."
"Yessir!"
A good half night passed on the surface of the Savanna. Where a previously noble and alert Ixian who took great care in appearances and status was no longer to be seen. Instead of that proud domineering alien representative of ix was a dishevelled, dusty, ragged creature, dehydrated, hungry, and exhausted from the various sprints it forced itself to endure to stay ahead of fate's ever closing hand.
Is this the sword of Damocles that was mentioned in the ancient Terran records? Always hanging down on those who hold power and seek more? Fate's sharp blade? But why me? I was never in any real power. All I wanted out of this life was a comfortable posting with no dirt and grime from the lower worlds. Why me? Why now? Why do I-
La'Ix snapped himself out of a daze. Is he here- No, no I should be far far away from that Terran now. Maybe I can find some-
A dim glow interrupted its train of thought. Much too early to be the Sunrise on the Emperor's summer planet, and much to low to be the light from one of it's 2 moons. It was a light from a town.
"That's right!" The Ixian barely managed to rasp in between haggard breaths. Its body barely able to continue the amount of self inflicted abuse it has suddenly been put in.
A lot more hunched over than the Ixian was earlier. It made its way towards a small town it knew was in between the palace and the harbour. The emperor loved his royal rustic towns and villages. It is said that his royal emperor would sometimes tour around them marvelling at the romantic theme of a simple rustic life. Although getting a personal town full of Ixians required a lot of lower caste be forced into long and expensive work contracts as background entertainers for the king's planet, all this excessive show of wealth was partially for peackocking the emperor's reputation, and partially for his own personal enjoyment. The Emperor is almost culturally required to flaunt his royal wealth in all forms in order to keep connections with all the royal houses. An emperor that doesn't shower their supporting aides and houses with grand gifts is fated to eventually be found cold on the floor of the royal banquet due to 'suicide from accidentally ingesting poison', as was the previous emperor.
To avoid such an unfortunate passing, the Higher Royals would trade vast resources, delicacies, and even exotic slaves to court 'royal favours'. Slaves of the Terran variety especially are considered to be the most unique of gifts the empire has ever acquired.
Terrans weren't necessarily large and bulky. Fighters were assigned to the Slave Obniraks. Powerful creatures used to fill the fields on tougher worlds where mechanical services would be deemed to expensive. The growth of a Obnirak into full working adulthood is only a few cycles. Meaning mass producing a workforce is quite an easy feat.
Terrans instead would take vast cycles to mature from a childling to an average adult. Meaning growing a slave force would take vast quantities of resources, immense patience, and strict guidance from their owners as to not create faulty creatures. All of which increases the general standing on any house that manages to keep a vast amount of Terran slaves in the best quality.
Terrans weren't necessarily docile and obedient. That role was perhaps given to the oldest slave race the Ix ever controlled. The Iralisa. It was known that they were made remarkably docile due to generations upon generations of select breeding, and pruning off the 'aggressive traits' from the gene pool. However, that led to the adverse effect of physically weakening them to a point where such docility and lack of a frame to keep up with their workload led to a general lack of Ixian interest and were subsequently purified.
Terrans are notoriously independent and herd-minded in larger quantities. Similar to growing a very stubborn Terulian Rose Vine. Which only looks impressive when great care have been given. Terrans need to be given an illusion of being ever so slightly free. Which typically involves owning vast amounts of land and nature to let them roam and graze. Of course, the only ones that can accommodate grand work forces of Terrans are the larger houses with the appropriate territory for humans, as is studied in the Ixian art of Servitude.
One can only guess which species is the Emperor's favourite.
The following town should indeed have both, low caste Ixians, and possibly none of the Emperor's favourite slaves.
The Ixian approached the glowing town. As it reached closer it straightened its back, upright on its hindlegs in the royal fashion. And proclaimed. "It is I! La'Ix, royal courtier. Lend me aid imme-"
Something is off. Not a single shadow in the town, I can see lights but no movement, where is every-
After turning the corner to the center of the small town, the dustied and weary creature froze in its tracks when it saw it. A pit nearly as wide as an Ixian land cruiser and who knows how deep filled with a stench so powerful it watered his eyes. Despite the Ixian's lack of a proper sense of smell. It knew the foul fetor of death.
The crudely dug pit was nearly overflowing when he approached it. Large, smoking, smouldering pyres cast that eerie light that had drawn him in.
"H-how? Wha-What the..." he trailed off when a local species of Laran boar growled and squealed as it tore a dead Ixian limb from the mountain of corpses.
"Who could've..."
He stopped. The shock of seeing his own kind laid like broken dolls in a bleeding pit slowly faded, replaced by a numbness. The Ixian had just noticed they were of Ix. Only of Ix.
Not a single terran colour was visible in the black and spotted pit of bodies. Not a single slave body was visible.
I-Impossible...
His legs gave way, either from the strain of the entire nights run, the horror facing him, or the threat from behind. He just dropped.
Minutes passed, or hours. It was hard to tell. But the Ixian lay slumped. Body unwilling to move further. Battered flesh unwilling to be propelled by a shattered spirit.
Mind slowly spinning up again. Thoughts began whirring to life in its mind. Could the rumours actually have been true? It had read the sparse reports of odd activity from certain Ixian-controlled worlds on the outer arms of the empire. Small uprisings of unknown origin. Hardly anything of note. If it had no affect on the greater houses then it was of no real concern to Ix and its emperor.
Could this threat have made its way to the centre arm already? Impossible. But what else could have done this to us?
Something caught the Ixian's eyes. In the middle of the pit it stood. A large stake, wet with deep Ixian crimson, dripping ever so slowly. Towering over the pit like a battlefield flag was a head of an Ixian rammed onto the tip of the spike. But the particular detail that caught the Ixian's eyes was a symbol cut into the flesh of the large forehead.
Looking from the outward-in. Eight concentric rings, which proceeded to get smaller and smaller in size until it reached a dark mass at the centre of the symbol. The Ixian never forgot the symbol and the affect it had on it.
Eight concentric rings, and a centre mass. Eight rings, and a mass. Eight- Eight what? Eight planets? And a star? ...
A growing pool of cold dread rose in its guts that made it shiver despite the fair night. This dread reflected the sharp reality on its frigid surface.
This Ixian was well-bred, well-trained, and well-educated. Although anyone with a basic education would know of such a pattern.
Terra and her sisters. THEIR star system...
Thump, thump, thump, thump.
It's not possible!-
Knowing what that sound meant, the Ixian tried to whirl around, its body barely being able to heed its masters commands. Just when it was starting to move again it felt it.
Sudden sharp agony. Sudden sharp, raging agony. The Ixian looked at it's hind leg. A sharpened wooden stake was jutting out of it.
It loud out a tight lipped scream, as it grasped the pulsating wound as one does immediately after an injury. It barely had enough time to look up at its attacker when the Terran bolted forward, shortening the distance between hunter and prey from metres to mere paces. The Ixian barely had enough time to block the hand grasping the knife as the arm flew forward at the last minute with a crash.
What phenomenal force!
Using the momentum from that sprint plus the wind up of his arm. The Terran was able to impart a phenomal show of force for a creature its size. That's when La'Ix for the first time saw a human in its raw unchanged form. Great beads of sweat collecting dust on its brow, to prevent it from entering the eyes. The constant release of sweat from the countless pores on its soft fleshy skin. Constant cooling? Even the visible veins and capillaries visible from the fire light.
What a beast of endurance-
Suddenly the horizon fell before the Ixian only to reveal the inky black sky dotted with pigments from stars like a painters masterpiece. When did I look up? Then a crash and blunt force from the ground.
The Ixian had been toppled over by that ferocious exchange of force.
Barely able to get up due to the wind being knocked out of its single large lung, the searing pain in its hind leg, and the exhaustion from the chase. It was too late. The terran was already on top of it. Taking up the entire view of the sky as the terran stepped forward into its field of vision.
The sudden perspective change made a once small and frail looking slave look grander than life, grander than all the legends told to Ixian broodlings.
The punches rained down. Repeatedly. A constant bombardment of beating rained like the drops of rain before the first dew. The previous pain in its leg forgotten, to invite a new visitor in the form of blunt force trauma. So ferocious were the raw blows to its carapace that the Ixian felt the exoskeleton crack under the increasing pressure and strain.
Something cracked, another thing snapped. The amount of pain too much to comprehend. The neurons firing in its second brain just assumed it was everywhere. Its half-working eye glimpsed the fist as it came down for the nth time. Red and split knuckles, revealing pure white bone beneath—a reinforced weapon. The perfect natural offence. All the muscles moved to propel it downwards where something else cracked and split.
Is this where I die?
As if understanding its fate the Ixian's form slumped over. Its body barely holding onto the natural exoskeleton shielding that covered its chest and facial area. Fluids leaking from the cracks that went too deep, and who knows how many internal ribs are shattered.
Its body, knowing that that more movement will cause more injuries, and further stimuli would confuse it further. It simply shut down.
The last moments it had as it fell backwards on its side. Was a small running figure. Hand clutching wooden spears. But the truly petrifying sight was behind it. A vast shadow flickering from the light of the lit pyres from the hunter in front of it. A shadow cast so large, jagged, and menacing it appeared to swallow the town whole.
And into a hole did the Ixian fall. A vacuum with no sensation or thought. Just darkness.
How... did we never notice such a... monster... in their... shadow...
All Ixians were taught about 'violence' and 'conflict' at an early age. As a sort of rite of passage that any of them would go through as they survive their early broodling days. As Ix have no natural predators, they had begun to instil a serving of some necessary conflict to keep their generations fresh and somewhat physically strong. As a precaution, only rudimentary forms of civil sports, races, shows of strength and courage were ever really explored. But always in a controlled and calm settings, as there would never be any true need for actual conflict.
As there was always a need to maintain ones own environment. The need never arose for the development of fighting techniques and schools of training. That was one of the best parts of being an Ix that many thought. Having supreme control over the worlds you inhabit means setting gravity, atmospheric pressure, humidity, and temperatures to the perfect levels for comfort replaced any need for biological change. Why grow when you can keep everything the same way, how you like it.
They were a vast empire. An empire of statues.
-Excerpt from the history of extra-solarian species, Author unknown
It awoke to a burning radiating heat from in front. The large sun was already starting to set on the horizon when it awoke. Had a whole day passed? Or two?
Trying to block the setting sun from its eyes it couldn't. "What?...", barely made out in a whisper.
I'm tied up.
And indeed the Ixian was right. Tied up next to a small brook, with a scorching fire in front of it. The monster nowhere to be seen.
"No good... it's too tight", it grunted in an attempt to escape its bindings.
Going slack in defeat it avoided any additional movement. Not having the energy to spare to move. It was lucky to have always been lazy at shedding its carapace - a frequent nag from its broodmother - might just have become its salvation in this case.
Thank Ix.
So there it stayed.
Hours passed. The Sun fully set and the stars awake in this dark world barely lit up the wildlands. Only the prisoner in this cone of firelight existed out here.
A rustling up ahead caught the prisoner's attention disturbing the eerily still silence of the Savannah night. And ungodly horror of a squeal ruptured the air invoking a deep visceral terror within the bound prisoner. Something. Something close but just outside the firelight was eyeing it, glinting from beyond the light. Those dark predatory eyes stabbed the prisoner with a sudden coldness. All while the squealing suddenly halted. SNAP. SQUELCH.
Now it came, emerging into the light. A beast. Holding a knife in one bloodied hand, dripping on the dirt. And dragging by the leg, a massive adult Laran boar grotesquely smearing thick blood still warm from the cut in the neck on the dirt.
The prisoner watched, barely moving, barely breathing. Frozen with the horror in front of it as the bloodied carcass was skinned; fur sliced away with harsh, scraping sounds with the crude knife. Spurting remaining blood all over the site.
The pink naked flesh then washed in the brook, leaving a distinct smell of oxidised blood in the air, before being skewered and roasted over the roaring flames. Fat popping violently in the heat.
In this gruesome display, the beast revealed not just a fate for the boar, but a dark hint of what might come. The realisation struck deep—this could be more than just a demonstration; it was a terrifying preview of its own potential end.
It passed out again.
Only to be awoken by the haunting echoes of a wild, desperate squeal that once thrummed through the savannah's eerie silence. Dare it open its eyes?
After a great heavy effort -utilizing its every last drop of courage- one eye cracked open. And what it saw. Made it regret ever having done so.
Right across from it, the hunter was a grotesque silhouette against the flickering fire. Grasping a severed boar leg was a mouth viciously biting, ripping, tearing into the flesh with primal ferocity. Each bite was deliberate, each tear of sinew was a clear, calculated demonstration of supreme savagery. Its jaw muscles bulged with the force of a bite.
All the while, the eyes—deep, abyssal pits—fixed intently on the prisoner. Deepest black pits stared back at it. Watching. Observing. Calculating, with a dark intelligence. it was calculating. It was relishing the terror it inspired and the control it exerted. Or planning its next meal.
The sounds of ripping flesh filled the thick, blood-soaked air. Deep into the night. Deep into this never-ending nightmare.
Never once did the prisoner move. Not an iota. Frozen in abject horror.
The night passed quietly. After the feast the human had, or the desecration of life that the prisoner saw, whichever way you look at it. The human nodded off to sleep. Content in the success of his mission. But the tied up creature had no such rest. Sending silent pleas to the stars that it might be saved. But not daring to make a sound, less it awaken that sleeping horror. Or was it sleeping? Dear Ix, it might be watching me. Feigning sleep to keep an eye on its meal. Dear Ix I'm next...
All through the night, the demons plagued its mind. Until the warmth of the morning rose, and with it the sound of an Ixian cruiser.
Elation could not be an understatement for the tired, tied, beat, and bruised thing. Craning its neck to the direction of the sound about to bellow out an Ixian warning to the demon resting next it.
"BE CAREFUL! THERE'S ONE HERE-". It stopped speaking. That previous elation it felt at a saviour arriving to rescue it from the demons grasp, fizzled out like a drop of water in a drought.
That all so familiar cold remained. And the dryness of despair. As pairs of dark pupils shot back at it.
On the cruiser were tall adult Terrans. Clean cut, well fed, well dressed Terrans. Four, no Six, no eight of them. All hanging onto the side of cruiser while it made its way to their location. Compared to the demon waking up beside it, these creatures were organised. A savageness neatly packaged in a uniform with a symbol. The prisoners eyes grew wide in its sunken sockets. 8 rings, and a centre mass. They must be the cause of, well all this.
Accepting fate, its head fell in part defiance, in part to avoid the stinging eyes of these others. It felt their gaze burn through—cold, cruel, calculating. There is nothing I can do any longer.
"You're finally here. What took you so long?" The runner said to his approaching comrades, "Took all night to catch up to him."
"Hey Jan, great work", the tall militant woman shot back. With a playful punch to his arm. "Guess all that cardio really paid off, didn't I tell you it would!" She let out a playful guffaw.
"Thanks Chel", replied Jan.
"Ok chop chop people, we're on a schedule. We need to reach the port ASAP remember? Come on Jan, rest up all you like, you're still on the clock."
"Aye sir." Jan shot back in a mock salute, gaining a sneer from the commandant, then a sneaky smile.
"Don't forget your trash. And make sure its breathing still."
It creaked open its eyes, seeing pairs of boots moving towards it and standing in front. In silence. Then all of a sudden, felt pairs and pairs of hands pull and tug. and lift it up The thing let out a pathetic silent sob. While it was loaded in the back of the cruiser, face up. Staring at eyes, piercing black dots peering back. It could never understand what was being felt by those eyes and those faces.
Ixians wear their emotions on their carapace; spots and stripes would slowly appear in certain parts, representing emotions and feeling that their bodies felt in a general sense. But the most private thoughts were of course, still kept private.
But this. This was just too foreign. The eyes never stopped. Even in the swaying movement of the cruiser the pupils never broke contact. Those eyes. As if it was peering into it, envelops your entire mind. There was no way to hide, even hiding in his inner self would do no good. Those eyes. Those predator eyes can find me anywhere I try to escape to. Inside and out.
Some times passes.
"You know. I lost good friends to the royal caste. Especially to this one's brood clan or whatever they like to call it." One of them was looking right at it when they said it. It turned its eyes over to the source. A short one, with a slave scar on the neck said it. A scar that shot through his memories. A scar inflicted to property owned by, his brood. This one is dangerous..., it thought.
Jan, and the others didn't look but felt it. The cold darkness in that tone made it clear what it intended to do.
The female militant, Chel, I think her name was. Slowly reached to the side arm on her holster. Sensing the oncoming problem.
"You still understand me don't you? I've had to watch good people die. Damn good people." The scarred one one stood, grabbing the upper rail of the cruiser to steady themselves. "I hear that even if you get ill, you become the entertainment for the night. What was it now?" She paused for a brief second. "Oh I remember".
"Stil" Chel said slowly. "Cool it". Hand still on the butt of the sidearm.
Not hearing or not wanting to reply. Stil continued. "Torn apart by those raptor pets. Hands or feet cut off as souvenirs for those fucked-up parties and those fucked-up guests. Oh yea, and the 'toy play' or whatever they call it. Can't have Ken and Barbie fight back now, can we?"
Stil leaned closer to the now cowering, shaking thing, "I wonder which one was your favourite." The words cut through La'Ix like an icicle. This was the first time these demons actually spoke to it directly. And it didn't like it. It could sense the venom from the words.
"Stil..." Chel slowly got up, hand still at the ready. "I said cool it." The line had a steely warning to it. Chel wouldn't risk the mission. Even if it meant doing what must be done.
Agonizing seconds passed. The cowering, shaking thing seemed to grow whiter and whiter by the second, It's spots clearly showing what it felt. Staring up, Not willing to move but being unable to hide. It felt the absolute crushing weight of the present. Grinding it down to a paste.
Everyone stayed still. The two militants didn't move. The rest didn't seem to even have paid attention to the converstation, still looked away.
Longer passed.
Stil smiled, "Oh come on Chel, you know I wouldn't do anything to our friend here? You know I was just playing around." Stil laughed. Chel didn't react.
Stil immediately crouched, faced the shaking prisoner inches apart eye to eye, and in a whisper said "Right friend?"
She wants me to reply? Dear Ix I can't even think with those eyes in front of me What do I do?! What do I say?!
"Right. Friend?" Stil repeated slower and colder. Like the blade of a surgeon hovering over skin, ready to plunge.
The gears of its Ixian brain grinded to a screeching halt. In utter desperation to find a reply it simply gave up. Instead, it felt a warmth slowly spread. Slowly spread between its hind legs. It had released its bladder.
"BAHAHAHAHA LOOK AT IT" Stil roared in laughter. The sound of it rattling the prisoners brain with the sound. Disorienting its senses. "NOW THAT'S CLASSIC TIMING IF I'VE EVER SEEN IT!" She plopped back down face red and still laughing.
The Ixian didn't know what to do but tremble and sob silently on the cold surface of the cruiser surrounded by laughter. and the warmth of its piss. It tried to plug its ears. But the sound still came. Laughter. Laughter. Laughter. Dear Ix, what are these demons... where are they taking me? To hell?...
The cruiser kept cruising. Towards the port across the island. Trailing laughter behind. Or to the sobbing wreck of a thing, demonic cackling.
The scent of familiarity wafted into the senses of the prisoner as the cruiser started to slow. The smell of the salt, the chirping of familiar aviaries. Sound of the crash of sea. The port.
Braving a sentence for the first time in for what seems eternity. It let out a question "...w..w..where ... why... are... ... we ...h... here?" It managed to say shakily, eyes downcast.
As if in response, a sharp shove greeted it from the back and a hard hit on the ground was as much of an answer it was getting.
"Move it", Jan said gruffly.
They walked. the ixian still bound but free to walk in the middle of the group of humans. Towards a destination still not known. The walk twisted, and turned, and twisted again. One thing struck out to the prisoner. It was too clean, especially for what it was expecting, it's last experience being in the previous blood-soaked town laden with bodies and carrion eaters.
The port town was completely silent, free from the regular hustle and bustle it usually had even when the emperor was not present. And superbly clean. Not a single piece of dirt to be seen. Not a single Ixian either. Where did everyone go? Did they make it out somehow when these invaders came?
In the background, the surf broke relentlessly.
Piercing eyes caught the prisoners glance, as it wandered curiously around the town. Realising its mistake La'Ix tried to look away but the burning gaze gripped his own.
As if reading its soul. The human answered the hidden question bubbling up in La'Ix. "You should've seen them your royal majesty". The one called Stil said while bending in mocking courtesy.
The surf pounded the shore even more loudly now.
"They don't swim well. Especially the young ones. They dropped like stones. Turning all white by the time they stopped moving."
Louder now. The sea roared.
Nothing came. Not a thought in La'Ix's mind. Its mind struggled to comprehend the depth of what was said by Stil, the scarred human.
The waves boomed louder now. Louder than the sun, echoing louder than the screams of all the Ixians that must have perished.
It saw the lips of the standing-devil in front of it. But all the came from its blood red lips were obscured by the sound of the pounding of the waves. The echoes of drowned kin, thudding and slapping against the shore, merged with the relentless surf in La'Ix's mind.
This is for our sins.
Wave after wave, the relentless surge continued, each one a haunting reminder of the souls lost to the sea, each crash a ghostly thud of bodies hitting the shore.
Very slowly did some exhausted neuron in the Ixian's head come to a conclusion as to how these creatures in front of it can be so relentless, so cruel, and so evil. When pushed to beyond its breaking point, did their true carnivorous instincts rear their ugly head.
Oh dear Ix. What sort of environment could breed such demons?
La'Ix didn't remember what happened next. The memories feel like a distant dream now as he sits watching the port sky now.
The aching brand on his forehead of the 8 ringed system, pulsed in pain—a departing gift from his newly made friends, stung from the salty sea air.
He barely recalls the staggered walk from the empty inter-arm transmission office and the inputting of his biometric royal seal. He barely even remembers the message that was sent under his name and signature
And even less does he remember what he heard what will happen next.
All alone now, he stares at the sky of the empty port town. As he watches more royal ships enter the atmosphere.
He gazes upward, thoughtlessly, statue-like Knowing fate will come for them all. Fate in the form of piercing black eyes and a monster so large it can fit in a shadow.
A single thought, carried its way from above the despair to the surface. Slowly. Like a bubble in a pool of tar.
What was I meant to tell the emperor again?

What that person did has nothing to do with you. It has to do with their pain. It has to do with their neurochemistry. It has to do with their coping mechanisms and their trauma. This is a very hurt and lost person who is coping with that hurt in an incredibly destructive way. However, in no way, shape, or form does their bullshit determine whether or not you’re lovable or whether or not you trust people or if you are good enough.
They have revealed a very broken side of themselves and they have chosen to escape, numb, and deflect all of it instead of facing it in the mirror. It’s really hard because you gotta go through a process of grieving what you thought it was in order to have yourself unhook from it. Grieving the future that you thought was gonna happen and the reality of what you thought was going on and that’s incredibly difficult so you gotta give yourself time to really just move through the anger and hurt of the how could they have done this? How could I not have seen this? How could they have lied? Eventually you’re gonna hit this point where you soaked up so much of the misery you will no longer wanna feel it and the only thing that will help you is when you say “Wow, I actually feel sorry for that person. I feel sorry that they’re so screwed up that their only way to cope is to run away, lie, hide, and hurt other people.”
Be happy you are not like them. Be grateful you have a huge heart that is capable of such amazing love….and if it breaks…it will heal again. 🫶🏼

To preface this is a narrative of the fallout lore both established in all the fallout games and many of the popular mods created for both new Vegas, fallout 3 and fallout 4 and a subsequent idea for a fallout 5 title that I wrote and wanted to get opinions on.
If you think this is cool lmk, if you think this sucks lmk. I’m just interested in sharing my own ideas with the wider fallout community.
Fallout 5

 From Lone-wanderer to the courier (TTW tie in) 

After the events of Fallout 3, the Lone Wanderer, having no family and no place left to truly call home, gathered up his companions and headed west to start a new life. Over the next 4 years, the Lone Wanderer lived in the west with many of his former companions going their separate ways. The Lone Wanderer began working as a courier, known as Courier 6. There, he had a particularly bad run-in with a man named Benny, who introduced him to a bullet. The damage done to the Lone Wanderer caused him to lose his memories of his past. Thus, he became the courier.
After the events of Fallout: New Vegas, and the Second Battle of Hoover Dam, the NCR's military and infrastructure were severely weakened after destroying the Legion. Sensing an opportunity for mutual benefit the West Coast Brotherhood of Steel reached out to the Mojave chapter, where, under the leadership of Elder McNamera, the NCR and Brotherhood reached an agreement and official peace pact between the two groups, which culminated in the brotherhood becoming an official autonomous part of the NCR.
The West Coast Airship docks within the Strip, which was under the control of the Courier and member of the Mojave chapter. The West Coast reintegrated the Mojave chapter of the Brotherhood of Steel and uses the Strip as a base of operations. Leveraging their advanced technology and military prowess, they quickly gain the upper hand in engagements against the remaining enemies of the NCR.
The Coming Storm (Dust tie in)
Some time after the Second Battle of Hoover Dam and the BOS occupation of the strip joint expedition teams of the BOS AND NCR discovered the Sierra Madre Casino, as well as the mysterious and deadly cloud. The NCR and BOS scientists conducted experiments with the Cloud, bringing both massive samples of Cloud Residue and corpses of Ghost People back to the Mojave. Many of these experiments were conducted in a makeshift laboratory set up in the lobby of the Lucky 38 casino. Though the full nature of the experiments are unknown, it is implied that the participants involved were considered criminals to the NCR and the nature of the experiments were brutal, sadistic, and inhumane.
Around the same time, the BOS received reports that a massive sandstorm was approaching New Vegas. They did not share this information with the public, and instead began to outline evacuation procedures.
Five years after the expedition and experiments something went terribly wrong. It is implied that a disgruntled Vault 21 custodian may have intentionally sabotaged the Lucky 38 laboratory, causing a new Cloud to form over the Strip. This cloud was far more lethal and corrosive than the Cloud of the Sierra Madre. The corrosive capabilities even hindered the BOS power armor as the metal would be gradually eaten away by the cloud.
As the Cloud descended upon New Vegas, panic engulfed the Strip and Freeside. Riots and violence broke out. Miss communications between the directives of the BOS and NCR resulted in troopers executing innocent civilians in the streets. In response, the Kings rebelled against the NCR, while also aiding in an evacuation of Freeside, saving countless lives. The Followers of the Apocalypse were forced to abandon the Old Mormon Fort. The Airship of the Western Brotherhood attempted to evacuate all BOS personnel and any relevant technology from the strip before returning to Lost Hills. This resulted in some squads of the BOS being forced to take up residency within the casinos of the strip and vault 21. The NCR locked the gates to the Strip, with all civilians inside. The rebels led by the kings were forced out of and under the city, to the Sewers below. The BOS left in Vault 21 have been desperately trying to chisel away at the concrete within the vault in the hopes of tunneling back to Hidden valley.
NCR troops then dumped radioactive waste into the Sewers to kill any survivors, before fleeing the city themselves. Eventually, the situation became so bad that NCR General Lee Oliver ordered an evacuation of all NCR personnel from New Vegas via the Strip Monorail.
These events nullified the BOS and NCR treaty resulting in BOS forces seizing locations across the Mojave that had the capability to keep them safe from the cloud while also engaging in Guerilla warfare tactics against the NCR.
The city would ultimately fall to the Cloud and to the dust storms that blew in from the West. While some survivors attempted to take shelter in the Strip's casinos they were met with the business ends of BOS laser rifles. Those who did not head for the casinos were not so lucky, as anyone who wasn’t immediately killed by the Cloud became Ghosts and cloud victims, while others died slowly of radiation poisoning and exposure.
While New Vegas fell to the Cloud, a massive radioactive dust storm engulfed the rest of the Mojave Wasteland, causing widespread devastation. Whole settlements and towns were evacuated or otherwise destroyed. One settlement in particular, Goodsprings, was struck by an unknown form of plague, killing most of its residents and turning the once-prosperous community into a Ghost Towns.
Other areas, such as Boulder City, attempted to protect themselves with the same suits worn by Ghost people in Vegas and the Sierra Madre, ultimately becoming trapped themselves. To make matters worse, the Tunnelers from the Divide eventually burrowed through to the Mojave Wasteland, As predicted by Ulysses. causing even more death and destruction. The dust storms blotted out the Sun, allowing the Tunnelers to hunt by day, killing off most of the native animal population in the Mojave.
The effects of the Fall would spread as far out as Zion Valley, where spore carriers from Vault 22 ran wild, alongside another strange, terrible creature, dubbed the Wendigo by the tribals within the valley.
After the fall, little remained of the old Mojave Wasteland. Once-powerful factions such as, The Great Khans, and Powder Gangers were either wiped out or dissolved into roaming gangs of Tribals and Survivors. The Western Brotherhood which had resided in the strips cohesion collapsed as its members lost contact with the surrounding Casinos and vault 21.
Cannibalism became rampant, as people did whatever they could to survive. The NCR remained in control of various locations such as Camp Golf, Hoover Dam, Camp McCarran and Nellis AFB. Those fortunate enough to evacuate the Mojave mostly wound up at Camp Adytum, an NCFollowers refugee center in the Boneyard, however they were quickly drafted and sent to the now ongoing BOS and NCR conflict.
The NCR would eventually launch expeditions into the ruins of New Vegas, presumably to acquire materials left over from the Lucky 38 laboratories. However, none of these expeditions were successful, and the NCR soon abandoned all attempts to return to New Vegas, with only the Royst-Bernard Expedition consisting of rogue NCR scientific and military personnel returning in an attempt to succeed, where regular NCR failed.

 The Patriot at Heart (America Rising 2 tie-in) 

In the aftermath of the events of Fallout 3, the remnants of the Enclave fled north into the Commonwealth where they waited in hiding for 10 years. After the events of Fallout 4, the Lone Survivor helped revive the Enclave and ultimately forced the Institute into being folded into the Enclave, bringing their advanced technology and expertise in synth creation under one banner.
The Enclave embarked on a bold experiment, merging their iconic power armor technology with the synthetic advancements of the Institute. The result was the creation of a new breed of soldiers: Power Armored Synths or PAS.
These hybrid warriors combined the resilience and strength of power armor with the versatility and adaptability of synthetic intelligence. Clad in imposing power armor suits, these Synths were capable of executing complex military maneuvers, engaging enemies with precision and force.
Under the banner of the Enclave, this new army of PAS’s became the vanguard of their expansionist ambitions, striking fear into the hearts of any who knew of their existence. The Enclave took a page from the Institute by beginning to kidnap high-ranking members of the Railroad, Brotherhood of Steel, and Minutemen, replacing them with Synth sleeper agents who would corrupt the organization of the Commonwealth and East Coast Brotherhood to weaken them for an Enclave assault. This culminated in the Enclave assault on the Prydwen, forcing Elder Maxson to retreat back to the Capital Wasteland.

 Fallout 5: Tactics 

The year is 2300, 13 years after the events of Fallout 4.
A squad of the Chicago-based Midwest Brotherhood intercepts a transmission from the East Coast Brotherhood, calling for aid from the West Coast Brotherhood in a last-ditch effort to defend the Capital Wasteland from the Commonwealth-based Enclave assault.
Our character, a Midwest Brotherhood Paladin dubbed the Major, must traverse the Midwest, gaining new allies and attempting to mend the fractured Midwest Brotherhood to aid in the coming conflict. Our character must also fix up a convoy to traverse the wasteland of the Midwest in order to make it to the East Coast. Various quests and side quests will provide the character with allies and further supplies for the coming conflict and further cement the Midwest Brotherhood's position within the region.
Once the player believes they have gathered their small army sufficiently and created their convoy, they embark on a journey towards the East. Along the way, they are intercepted by Enclave and Super Mutant forces. Upon entering into the Capital Wasteland, the general's forces link up with what’s left of the East Coast Brotherhood who have been hiding out in Rockopolis after the Citadel was infiltrated and taken over by the Enclave. DC now acts as the front lines of a war yet again between the Enclave, Brotherhood, and a new faction in the wasteland called the Behemoths, an organized and somewhat intelligent super mutant group led by an intelligent mutant named Osiris, who was once a member of the Master's army. Osiris united the D.C. Mutants and launched his own series of attacks on the Brotherhood when the Enclave took hold of the Citadel.
Along the way, we meet a one-armed Three Dog who barely survived the Enclave bombing of the GNR building but has since set up shop in Broadcast Tower KTB with a small contingent of Brotherhood Paladins who aided against the Enclave, rescuing Three Dog.
As the Major and the elders plot out a plan to assault the Enclave at the Citadel.
Mid west Factions: 1. Brotherhood of Steel (Midwest Chapter): - The player's faction, focused on preserving pre-war technology and knowledge. - Known for their advanced technology and power armor. - Initially, they prioritize their interests but may assist others if it aligns with their goals.

1. Midwest Brotherhood Outcasts:
   
   • A splinter faction of the Brotherhood of Steel, formed due to disagreements over the main Brotherhood's leadership or ideologies.
   • They may possess similar technology and resources as the main Brotherhood but operate independently, sometimes in opposition to their parent faction.
2. Reavers:
   
   • A ruthless raider group terrorizing the Midwest wasteland.
   • Known for their brutality and willingness to pillage and plunder.
   • Considered a major threat to the stability of the region, often in conflict with other factions.
3. The Vikings:
   
   • A raider group modeled after the historical Vikings (with a mixture of the football Minnesota Vikings.)
4. Gammorin's Army Remnants:
   
   • A militant faction once led by the super mutant Gammorin.
   • Composed primarily of super mutants, they seek to establish dominance over the wasteland through force.
   • Viewed as a formidable enemy by other factions due to their strength and aggression.
5. Vault 0:
   
   • A vault inhabited by a powerful supercomputer known as the Calculator.
   • The Calculator once sought to expand its influence and control over the wasteland, posing a significant threat to other factions; however, it was reprogrammed by someone named the Warrior in the year 2197. This effectively deactivated and left the army of robots dormant and sealed away within Vault 0. Their advanced technology and military capabilities make them a formidable adversary and an equally valuable ally if they can only be reactivated and reprogrammed.
6. Tribal Communities:
   
   • Various tribes and communities scattered throughout the Midwest wasteland.
   • They may have their own customs, traditions, and conflicts.
   • Depending on the player's actions, they could become allies, enemies, or neutral parties.

As the player ventures further into the capital wasteland they find that it is now far greener than in the past and wild punga fruit now can be found around the wastes, if the player makes a detour to oasis they will find that Harold has rapidly grown and from the Potomac River (death law sanctuary) in the west to temple of the union in the east is now a lush paradise (that is if it weren’t for all the deathclaws and raiders who stalk the forest.) As Harold/Bob spread, the brotherhood eventually sent out missions to learn more about it, after encountering Linden, they made a formal treaty with the poplars, in which the poplars were given water in exchange for the fresh fruit from the oasis. The brotherhood also helped encourage the trade of Punga with the Poplars to be grown within the oasis to help aid soil development and remove radiation. The poplars now tend the forest and have become somewhat of a nature inspired farming/fire fighting force, having a couple of villages throughout the forest network. However raider gangs also set fire to the trees, (if the player investigates they’ll find out that the enclave is paying the raiders to burn the trees and fight their way in to help destabilize the brotherhoods food supply and trade routes)
If the player chooses to side with the poplars/ Brotherhood the trees will continue to spread at a rate of 1 mile for every 24 real world hours that pass in game.
If the player helps the enclave they will be tasked with infiltrating the original Oasis and burning Harold alive, and the trees will dwindle at the same rate until the oasis is fully gone.

After my first breakup and the endless pain it caused, I thought I could handle anything. A few years back, I even received a diagnosis for ulcerative colitis and managed to cope with the diagnosis and the ongoing suffering. After five years, I opened my heart to another woman.
Two years later, it happened. She met a guy online. I didn't think much of it because men and women can be friends (though it's tough, but possible). He even had a girlfriend, so I wasn't overly worried. After meeting him a few times, she went on a university trip to Switzerland and came back a changed person. She wanted to spend the night at her mom’s, which was fine by me. She said she'd text me when she got there—it’s a 30-minute trip. Five hours later, she suddenly returned home. I was terrified, thinking she had died or something else horrible had happened. When she got home, she said she'd been out drinking with a friend, and we went to sleep because I was too exhausted to discuss anything. The next day, I demanded to see her phone because I didn't believe her (after she didn’t even notify me about her plans), but she refused. Long story short, she had been with Julian, the guy from the cinema. They had gone to watch the northern lights and had some drinks. I pressed her, unable to understand how she could keep this from me. Since she struggles with emotional stress, she confessed that she had kissed my best friend a few months back. After further arguing, she admitted it happened twice more, once at our place.
I told her straight away that we could get through this, and we discussed why it happened. She hadn't felt emotionally secure with me, and I see that now. Yes, it wasn't my fault she strayed, but I hadn't treated her as well as she treated me for the longest time. I wasn't terrible, but I hadn't made her my top priority, and she felt it. She had told me several times how important it was, but she never conveyed just how serious the situation was. We decided to try again, and she agreed to stop seeing Julian for some time (she didn't want to stop texting him because she finds it incredibly hard to make friends and didn’t want to lose that—she said she'd stop if she felt something romantic could happen).
Why didn't I treat her better? I can't tell you. Maybe my illnesses stressed me out! Maybe it was university, which has never stressed me so much, that kept me from paying enough attention to my girlfriend. I just didn't realize how serious it was.
A few days ago, my girlfriend decided to take a break from me to clear her thoughts and find out if she can still love me.
And then, as if things couldn't get worse: in two days, she was supposed to start a month-long break, and just now, she wrote to me that Julian's girlfriend had broken up with him, just as I had predicted.
My disease has flared up again due to stress, and it's the most important university semester of my life, but I can't go on because I JUST CAN'T ANYMORE.
Perfectly timed with our break starting, Julian's girlfriend broke up with him. I don't know what to do with myself. I love my girlfriend, even after everything, and I don't want to lose her. But after everything, especially this last part, I feel like I know where this is going. I just can't deal with it. I can't watch TV shows, I can't eat, and most of the time, I can't even cry. The only thing keeping me going is the hope that nothing happens with Julian this month and she comes back to me, so I can show her that she is my number one priority (alongside my own well-being). And I've never meant anything so seriously.
I don't know what to do with myself. I want to tell her to cut off contact with Julian, but she won't; I want to tell her to stay with me, but she won’t. And when I express my fear that she might develop feelings for Julian during the break, she tells me she can't imagine that happening.
I don't know what to do anymore. Thank you for reading this far. Writing is the only thing I can do right now.
I feel like I barely exist these days, especially now. I’ve thought about hurting myself, but I won’t. I know I won't end my life, and I won't harm myself. I can't imagine how terrible the next months will be, but I have to survive somehow, even though I feel I may never be happy again.
So... I don't know what I'm expecting from this... Advice? I Quess. I can't imagine anyone can help. I still have to try everything.
**TL;DR;** : My girlfriend cheated and wasnt happy in the relationship and i need help, advice.. anything.

Sometimes I like just making characters for fun (and to get more familiar with 5e, as I'm still trying to learn the ins and outs), even though I have no intention of actually using them for a game.
So I just made a Shadar-Kai Bladesinger named Vemni Saladris. She is the latest in a line of continual reincarnations bound to the service of the Raven Queen, sworn to discover what went wrong in the ancient ritual to reconcile Corellon and Lolth and hunt down the Wizards who betrayed and shattered the Queen. She has spent her life in seclusion at the Fortress of Memory, and her own history is a blur of a thousand lives. Her earliest incarnation loved the Raven Queen with all her heart, and now she is cursed to see the Queen shattered and broken. Her beloved Queen, now a frayed cobweb of fragmented memories, doesn't even remember her name half the time.
She is True Neutral, as through her training she strives to walk the razor-thin line between the "Good" of the High Elves and the "Evil" of the Drow. She has one dagger with the "Conscientious" trait and another with the "Wicked" trait, so they act as a little angel and devil on her shoulders.
She also has a KEWL ELVEN MOONSWORD and can like totally wreck face in combat man. It does psychic damage as it overloads the victim with tragic and terrible memories of the Shadar-Kai's past.
Bladesingers are really OP, it's great.
Anyway, yeah, as a DM I would probably laugh this character off the table. Or at least work with the player to make the concept less "I am a broody loner who has a Katana and wears a hood and likes to stare into the distance, and I'm um super hot and my girlfriend is a Dark Goddess and also I'm a wizard and stuff". You know how it is.
But you know, sometimes I just need to put my trench-coat on and let my inner emo-goth katana-wielding munchkin out to play.
And you know what? That's ok.

Listen guys i’m not claiming to not be a dumbass but I really dunno what i did wrong here. I have 2fa authentication, I have my email and phone number set up to receive notifications from steam guard. And i haven’t touched the app, or steam in over a week. Yet somehow I came back to nothing

I've been looking for this BL manga for almost 3 years, I don't remember much about it, but I can remember that it was about a vet and a motorcyclist. The vet had to go to another city to work, and the other one was left behind, the vet was always busy so he promised the motorcyclist to meet him at a cafe, something happened and he couldn't go, so The Motorcycle boy gave him a second chance and then they promised to meet again at the cafe, but an emergency happened at the animal hospital and he couldn't go to the cafe again. If anyone knows the name please let me know, this was one of the first BL manga I read and it holds a special place in my heart and I was never able to finish it😢

The ending of TWOC gives us much clearer hints at where the story will go next than the end of LAOK did. I’d go as far as to say the hints at future conflicts are more like outright promises, especially Rikke’s visions.
The easiest storyline to predict is the one that’s basically summarized through Rikke’s vision in the last chapter. I’ll give my interpretation of the imagery we’re given, but there’s really not that much up for debate:
The bald weaver’s loom is in ruins, but he’s patiently stitching things back together. This is Bayaz, rebuilding after the damage Rikke and Glokta caused to his schemes.
At Bayaz’s side is a black-haired boy and a blond-haired girl. The girl is Hindi, and the boy is Calder’s secret son who we were officially introduced to at the end of TWOC. I will be referring to him as Skarling Jr. In the future, they’ll work as a Two-Man Con to destroy the North and Rikke along with it.
Hildi grows up and the top hat she wears belches smoke. When she blows a kiss, coins fall and turn to chains. When she offers her hand, its fingers become iron rails. These rails stretch forth across the sea to imprison the North. From this vision, we can interpret that Hildi will become an even more powerful and merciless version of what Savine was before the Great Change. I believe she will take her revenge on Rikke for selling out Orso, and she will do this by gentrifying, polluting, and strangling the North to death through industry, novelties, and countless debts. Everything unique and beautiful about the land will be melted away, leaving it a dejected shell of itself.
Skarling Jr sits atop a flaming hill of bones with the Maker’s sword. In the future, he has become the conqueror Stour failed to be, and it can also be implied that he killed Caul Shivers. When he speaks, blood flows out of his mouth which crashes upon the shores of the North and drowns the country. He will cause almost or just as much damage to Rikke’s home that Hildi will through her more insidious attacks on it.
The Crinna will be polluted by Hildi. Rikke’s home, Uffrith, will be once again burned, this time by Skarling Jr. Hildi is softening the country so Skarling Jr can more easily take it, but it’s also the other way around. Skarling Jr is playing the part of the relentless monster biting at Rikke’s heels, which will pressure her to take Hildi’s offers to advance the North’s tech out of desperation. Shivers’ death could serve as the push that leads her to make this choice.
I think Skarling Jr will operate from the shadows for a long time, striking small but impossible not to notice slights against Rikke’s authority. The presence of a faceless enemy will drive Rikke into paranoia, and this will allow little miss oil baron Hildi to step in and sell her snake oil.
Rikke is now aware of them, though. She might not know their names, but she does know vaguely who they are and what they’re going to do. Whether or not Rikke will prepare I don’t know.
Given his role in the story now, I think Jonas Clover will act as the head caretaker of the Northern Library whenever Bayaz is away. He will also act as a father figure to both Skarling Jr and Hildi, planting doubts in their head as to whether or not Bayaz is a man they want to take orders from.
Compared to the previous visions that were much more overt in their symbolism, the last vision of the weaver (Bayaz) is harder to pin down. One of his eyes holds a stone on fire. On the stone is a circle of runes, and in the center of those runes is a black door. From the black door, a white figure emerges from an ocean. Could this burning stone be The Seed? The black door could be the gate to the Other Side, which, when opened, will bring back Euz. I don’t know who else the white figure could be, let alone how events will lead Bayaz to this.
Other predictions are harder to make, but I’ll take a shot in the dark.
Savine and Leo’s bickering will evolve into outright hostility toward each other. The Union now essentially has two gov’t bodies, each trying to pull the country in opposing directions. The Closed Council is split between the two. Half of it stands with Savine, the other half with Leo. By the start of the next trilogy, I think the Union will be inching toward civil war. The only reason the two bother with each other now is, as Savine said, for the sake of their children.
By the next trilogy, I think Savine’s children will be somewhere in their mid-teens. How they end up by that time is anyone’s guess, but we can make assumptions based on how they’re loosely characterized in TWOC. Ardee is described by Savine as fierce and overbearing, whereas Harod is meek and submissive. Leo, being the petty jealous bitch he is, resents his infant son. We can already tell that Harod is going to have a strained and difficult relationship with his father. I think over the years, Harod will attempt to mold himself into a mini Leo to gain his father’s approval. This will only remind Leo of what he lost all those years ago, however, so he will grow even more hostile and distant toward his son. Savine will dote on him, but he will show veiled resentment toward her because he believes that’s what Leo would expect of him. Ardee will grow up to be something of a paradox between old Savine and new Savine. Leo doesn’t even try to hide his favoritism toward her, but she doesn’t reciprocate that affection. Leo believes Savine has poisoned Ardee against him, which only increases Leo’s hatred for his wife. Ardee instead tries to impress her mother, but because of her personality Savine can only see her as a bad reminder of her past. Savine becomes just as distant toward her daughter as her own mother was toward her. If a civil war does break out later in the trilogy, I think Harod will eventually side with his mother whereas Savine will shift her affection toward her father.
Gunnar Broad will become a general in the Angland’s army. If - or when - war breaks out in Styria, he will be sent back to the frontlines. Thankfully for him, not as a bridgeman this time. In the event of a civil war, he will side with Leo instead of Savine.
I don’t believe we’re ever going to see Vick again. At least not in any substantial way. Maybe she’ll momentarily return as in Friendly-style cameo, but other than that I like the way her story ended in TWOC.
After she revealed herself as an Eater, Zuri will no longer work as Savine’s companion. May Broad has assumed this role in her place. This doesn’t mean Savine has entirely cut off Zuri, though. She’s still in Savine’s circle, but she now works as an emissary and informant. And occasional assassin, when the need arises. Considering her dreams for peace and progress between the Union and Gurkhul, I believe she will be sent South as an emissary to make friends with a terrifying new Gurkish emperor.
May Broad will be sent North to tend to Savine’s business ventures there, where she will unknowingly aid in Hildi’s plan to corrupt the country. When she does realize Hildi’s intentions, she will serve as one of the few obstacles between the woman and utter annihilation of the North. I don’t believe May will succeed in this.
Jurand and Leo are now open lovers, meaning Leo and Savine are spouses in name only. Lord Marshall Glaward has been sent to Styria to maintain a foothold in the country should things get ugly.
Caul Shivers has hung up his sword, and now controls Ollensand (or Carleon) in Rikke’s name. In his place as an advisor is The Nail, alongside Isern. The two of them clash far more than Isern and Shivers did.
After having been made an informant, Corleth proved her worth and was made master of an organization that functions similarly to Styria’s spies.
The two characters I’m most interested in at this point besides Hildi and Skarling Jr are Carlot and Cathil. How are they going to respond to their brother’s death? Where is that grief going to take them? Leo will of course want to tie up loose ends, placing both sisters near the top of his hit list. If either Carlot or Cathil took after their mother in any way, I doubt they’ll take such a huge blow to their family sitting down.
We know a little about Carlot dan Luthar from her appearance in TTWP. She’s similar to her brother in personality, and seems to have a more strained relationship with her mother. We know absolutely nothing about Cathil other than that she’s married to Lord Governor Skald of Starikland. If I had to guess, I think Carlot will react in a more visceral way to Oreo’s death than Cathil will. She will crave vengeance, as will her mother, but her mother will prioritize her relationship with Shalere more. This woman has been uprooted from her home twice now. She lost it once when Monza killed her father, and again when the Peoples’ Army took Adua. Should she go to war with Leo, she will risk losing her home again. This inaction on Terez’ part will drive a wedge between her and her daughter, which will only sink Carlot deeper into her whirlwind of emotions. To spite her mother, Carlot will turn to a person in Styria who knows all about revenge. Monza Murcatto. I think Monza will groom Carlot to take her place as Styria’s brutal protector. Although Carlot can’t strike a blow against Leo directly, she can emotionally wound him via targeting Lord Marshall Glaward. If we get a standalone, I think it will revolve around an assassination plot against Glaward and other members of the Closed Council (Isher, maybe). If the plot succeeds, Carlot will incite a fourth war between the Union and Styria. That, or she will cause a civil war between Leo and Savine because they can’t agree on whether to go to war.
How Cathil dan Luthar’s story will unravel is anyone’s guess, but I have a feeling the Old Empire is going to take Starikland. The last time they were prevalent in the story was BTAH, and it would be great to see them make a big return.

So I guess in the early modern era several notable folks have signed things like contracts & documents w/ VC (Vi Coactus/Compelled by Force) next to their name, and it seems to mostly be an act of protest rather than having any legal weight.
A US Federal Court apparently shot this down, although in the UK a politician was not allowed into office because she insisted on signing w/ VC next to her name.
I've heard that signing things like this, if you truly are being made to sign it, can possibly be admitted as contextual evidence to establish you never were OK w/ what was going on, if the other party claims you were originally OK w/ it and then changed tune later.
Any datapoints on this topic? Can it be used to provide context around contractual negotiations later on, or is it merely a symbolic act of protest against terms offered w/ absolutely no use in court?
edit: as an aside, if one signs the words "under duress" next to their name... would that be similar in it's effect or lack thereof?

i think i need to leave, it’s been 5 years. i lost my childhood dog 3 days ago and my bf has been nothing but cruel and selfish. i’ve barely slept and eaten, and he woke me up this morning asking for a favor. i wouldn’t get out of bed and he said to me i ask the simplest of things and i’m supposed to feel bad for your dead dog?. he hasn’t spoken to me all day and i’ve been crying, he said get away from me go cry somewhere else. and also told me to go continue to cry for my dead dog. i hate him. i hate him so much. my heart is broken and he is so cruel.
TLDR my bf is being mean to me during grief.

There is something happen in my experience of Rocket League that I wanting to name it and see if anybody suffers for this too. Im a platinum 3 player on avarage, hitting diamond 1 every now on then, but the majority of time staying in the plat division. But sometimes sh*t happens in a bad week and I fall down do gold division. Than the nighmare begins.
I have a excruciating hard time to come back do plat. I always got caught with terrible bad teammates, with no sense of the game basics. Scoring own goals, beeing afk, passing the ball to wrong directions leading to other team score, teammates that don't rotate and failing that hail mary aero being the last man back. Always have one teammate with 0-0-0 with 20 points in the end of the match. The feeling I have is that it doesn't matter what I do or how well I play, im stuck with these guys and we all gonna loose over and over again.
This is the overall experience I have im gold tiers. I'm know by heart that i'm not a gold player, but i'm trapped there like a curse and I can't leave in peace.

My fiance and I have been together for 4 years now. We are planning to get married this year. We've booked some of our suppliers already and have made downpayments. However, just recently, I secretly opened his phone and saw that he has this app tantan. He has been chatting a lot of girls inquiring about their walk services. I confronted him and he kept saying sorry and said that he won't do it again. I don't trust him fully but I accepted his apology. He even said he will do his best to earn my trust again. I believed (sort of). Weeks after, I opened his messenger out of curiosity and saw his message to another girl. He sent a wave emoticon to this woman. I searched the name online and found out she is a stripper. He got no reply from that person as far as I know. I confronted him again. This time I cried alot as I feel so disrespected for the second time. He asked apology and I still accepted him. This time, I already have doubts. I wanted to rethink my decisions. I wanted to end our relationship but i dont know where to start. I am afraid of changes. I am so used to our daily life. Another reason why I can't just end the relationship easily is because we have kids. Yes, we have two boys, a 2 year old and a 9month old. I grew up without a father. I don't want them to grow up the same way as I did. I want them to have a complete family.
Going back to the main topic, I let it slide. I tried to forget about it. A week after, I woke up early and he was still asleep. I wanted to check the time as I am still really sleepy but i couldn't go back to sleep as my baby is already awake as well. I saw his phone and checked the time. There I saw a notification from this app telegram. I saw a lot! He just sent a message to a group asking if there's someone near our subdivision as he is looking for "walk". No one replied to this message. I looked up other conversations. I read those direct messages. He has sent money to people for dirty contents. I also saw a thread of him meeting someone. All i can remember is that the girl said she is wearing pink. I couldn't read the whole conversation anymore so I woke him up. He was shocked and said he didn't go anywhere the other day. He deleted the app. He said that those were old messages when we were not still together. He even said that the message I saw in a group chat where he asked if there's someone nearby was sent a long time ago. I didn't argue anymore. I kept quite as I couldn't believe him anymore. I didn't even cry this time. I just asked him what did I do to deserve it. He kept saying sorry. Same words as before. Imagine , it's not even a month since the last incident and there he is. I felt betrayed, disrespected. I felt disgusted by just looking at him. I didn't ask for a breakup but I don't trust him anymore. I installed telegram to look for his message in the groupchat. Yes i can still remember the chat name. There I saw his message with his profile. The date shows May 19. Just yesterday. He is even proud with his face as he uploaded it as his display picture. Gross! Disgusting.
I haven't broken up with him. Still it doesn't change the fact that I don't think I should continue the wedding this December. Tomorrow we are planning to pay for the food and venue supplier but I think I am going to postpone that for now. However, I don't plan to break up with him yet as I need to create a plan. I need to enroll to a driving course first so when we breakup, I don't need to sell my car. We bought a car but it's under my name so it's mine. I also need to see if I can manage all the monthly bills when he is gone. I earn almost twice as his income so i think i can manage but I wanted to make sure as I have 2 kids. But to be honest, i am not sure what I should do
Any advice please?
Ps. Sorry for the long rant. I just wanted to get this out of my chest. I have no one to share this problem to.

In the vast expanse of artificial intelligence research, a fascinating synergy is emerging between symbolic deduction engines (MDS) and large language models (LLMs). This integration not only promises to enhance the capabilities of AI systems but also paves the way for a universal framework for symbol manipulation, transcending the traditional boundaries of language and mathematics. This exploration delves into how MDS, when used in conjunction with LLMs, could revolutionize our approach to processing and generating information in all its forms.

The Synergy of Symbols and Semantics

At the heart of this integration lies the understanding that all information in the universe, be it words of a language or mathematical symbols, essentially represents an exchange of information. Symbolic deduction engines excel at reasoning with well-defined symbols, following strict logical rules to derive conclusions from premises. Conversely, LLMs are adept at understanding and generating natural language, capturing the nuances and complexities of human communication.

Enhancing LLMs with Symbolic Reasoning

Integrating MDS with LLMs introduces a powerful dimension of logical reasoning and precision to the inherently probabilistic nature of language models. This combination allows AI systems to not only comprehend and generate human-like text but also to reason with symbolic information, ensuring that the output is not only linguistically coherent but also logically consistent.

A Universal System for Symbol Manipulation

Imagine a system where symbols, regardless of their nature, are manipulated with the same ease as words in a sentence. Such a system would leverage the strengths of both MDS and LLMs to handle a wide array of tasks, from solving complex mathematical problems to generating insightful literary analysis. The key to this universal symbol manipulation lies in abstracting the concept of "symbols" to a level where the distinction between a word and a mathematical sign becomes irrelevant, focusing instead on the underlying information they convey.

Challenges and Considerations

Complexity and Integration

The primary challenge lies in the seamless integration of MDS with LLMs, requiring sophisticated mechanisms to translate between the symbolic logic used by MDS and the semantic understanding of LLMs.

Ambiguity and Uncertainty

While MDS operates with clear, unambiguous symbols, LLMs must navigate the inherent ambiguity of natural language. Bridging this gap demands innovative approaches to ensure consistency and accuracy.

Adaptability and Learning

The system must be adaptable, capable of learning new symbols and their relationships, whether they emerge from the evolution of natural language or the discovery of new mathematical principles.

Proposed Solutions

1. Hybrid Model Architecture

Develop a hybrid model that combines LLMs with symbolic reasoning modules. Use LLMs for language understanding and generation, while employing symbolic modules for tasks requiring strict logical deductions.
Technical Implementation: - LLM Component: Utilize models like GPT-4 for natural language processing. - Symbolic Component: Integrate with systems like Prolog or Z3 for symbolic reasoning. - Communication Protocol: Design an interface that allows bidirectional communication between LLMs and symbolic engines.

2. Symbolic Encoding Techniques

Implement symbolic encoding techniques to transform natural language input into a structured format that MDS can process. This could involve developing intermediate representations that capture both semantic and symbolic information.
Technical Implementation: - Intermediate Representation (IR): Define an IR format, such as Abstract Syntax Trees (ASTs) for parsing and structuring inputs. - Parsing Algorithms: Develop algorithms to convert natural language to IR. - Formula: ( \text{IR} = \text{Parser}(\text{Natural Language Input}) )

3. Bidirectional Translation Mechanisms

Create bidirectional translation mechanisms that allow for smooth conversion between the outputs of LLMs and the inputs of MDS. This ensures that both components can work seamlessly together without loss of information.
Technical Implementation: - Translators: Develop translators that convert LLM outputs to symbolic inputs and vice versa. - Formula: ( \text{Symbolic Input} = \text{Translator}(\text{LLM Output}) )

4. Contextual Disambiguation Algorithms

Develop algorithms that use contextual clues to disambiguate symbols within natural language. These algorithms can leverage the vast amounts of data LLMs are trained on to make educated guesses about the intended meaning of ambiguous symbols.
Technical Implementation: - Contextual Clues Extraction: Use techniques like attention mechanisms in Transformers. - Disambiguation Function: ( \text{Disambiguated Symbol} = \text{Disambiguate}(\text{Context}) )

5. Continuous Learning Framework

Implement a continuous learning framework that allows the integrated system to adapt over time. This framework should enable the system to learn from new data, update its understanding of symbols, and refine its reasoning capabilities.
Technical Implementation: - Continuous Learning Loop: Employ reinforcement learning or online learning techniques. - Adaptive Models: Update models incrementally with new data. - Formula: ( \text{Updated Model} = \text{Model} + \Delta \text{Learning}(\text{New Data}) )

The Promise of Discovery

This groundbreaking integration heralds a new era of AI, where machines can not only mimic human language and reasoning but also discover new knowledge by identifying patterns and connections unseen by human minds. By transcending the limitations of current AI systems, the fusion of MDS and LLMs opens up limitless possibilities for innovation and exploration across all domains of knowledge.

Conclusion

The journey towards creating a generic system for the manipulation of symbols, uniting the logical precision of MDS with the semantic richness of LLMs, is an ambitious yet profoundly transformative venture. It embodies the pinnacle of our quest for artificial intelligence that mirrors the depth and breadth of human intellect, capable of navigating the vast ocean of information that defines our universe. refine these ideas further and explore the practical applications of such a system!

General

This subreddit is North American focused. If you would like to provide information from other countries, please leave it in a comment below or contact the moderators.
 
What is a perfusionist and what do they do?
A perfusionist’s central role is to operate a heart-lung machine during open heart surgeries or other surgeries where blood flow may be impaired or interrupted. Examples of surgeries or devices that may require perfusionists most commonly include:

• Coronary Artery Bypass Graft (CABG)
• Heart Valve Repair or Replacement
• Congenital Heart Defect Repairs
• Organ Transplants
• Extracorporeal Membrane Oxygenation (ECMO)
• Ventricular Assist Devices (VAD)
• Intra-Aortic Balloon Pumps (IABP)
• Chemoperfusion

 
What is the salary and job outlook?
Salaries for perfusionists are generally higher than $150,000 per year. There are a wide variety of pay structures that will affect total compensation packages.
The future of perfusion is unclear, mostly due to concerns of market saturation. A search through /Perfusion will reveal a wide variety of opinions on the matter. The American Board of Cardiovascular Perfusion (ABCP) publishes an annual report listing the number of certifications gained and lost. Included in the most current report (2023) is a historical list going back to 2000. Included in the 2022 report is the number of students admitted and graduated in 2021 and 2022.
 
Professional Organizations and Resources:  

• American Society of ExtraCorporeal Technology  
  
• The American Academy of Cardiovascular Perfusion  
  
• The Canadian Society of Clinical Perfusion  
  
• The Tiny Perfusion Letter
  

 

Education and Credentialing

 
How do I become a perfusionist?
To become a practicing perfusionist in the United States, you must become a Certified Clinical Perfusionist (CCP). This credential is governed by the American Board of Cardiovascular Perfusion (ABCP) and is awarded after passing two board examinations: the Perfusion Basic Science Examination (PBSE) and the Clinical Applications in Perfusion Examination (CAPE).
Qualification to sit for the board exams is achieved by completing a certified program. The accrediting body for programs is the Commission on Accreditation of Allied Health Education Programs (CAAHEP) and a current list of programs may be found by going to this page, selecting “Profession” and choosing “Perfusion.” Unfortunately, this does not include programs that are defunct or programs that are undergoing the preliminary accreditation process. All schools require an undergraduate degree before entry regardless of outcome: degree or certificate.
The list of schools maintained at Perfusion.com and at SpecialtyCare are not current.
Programs currently undergoing preliminary certification include (alphabetical):

• Emory School of Nursing
• Lawrence Technological University
• Northern Kentucky University
• University of Southern California

Program lengths vary from 18 to 21 months and cost varies from approximately $30,000 to $140,000.
 

Common Questions About the Application Process

 
Is it competitive?
The application process is extremely competitive. Schools are typically receiving several hundred applications and most take 20 or fewer students.
When does the application cycle begin?
The application cycle is different for each school, but typically start as early as June 1 for start dates the following year.
That means that for the beginning of the 2025-2026 academic year, applications will begin opening on June 1, 2024.
When do applications close?
Again, each program will be different. Some programs close earlier than others. Some programs have processes that take awhile to complete, so it is advisable to complete your application before the process closes.
Which school should I apply to?
You should apply to every school you're qualified for.
What prerequisites are required for perfusion school?
Each of the programs have different requirements. Contacting each of the programs with program specific questions is going to result in much more accurate answers than asking here. Programs can and do change requirements on an ongoing basis.
Nearly all programs require at least a documented conversation with a perfusionist or shadowing a case as part of the application process.
How do I find a perfusionist to shadow?
LinkedIn is your best resource. You may also post a request for a specific geographical area using the flair “Shadow Request.” You can also try contacting hospitals that do open heart surgery and arranging to shadow a perfusionist.
What kind of work experience is useful when applying to perfusion school?
Perfusion assistant jobs are sometimes referred to as a “golden ticket” for admission to a school. Many schools seem to value healthcare experience, through what type varies from school to school. Traditionally, RNs with critical care or operating room experience and respiratory techs seem to have a high degree of success. Other perfusion / OR adjacent jobs like anesthesia techs also seem to correlate with higher acceptance rates. As the application process becomes more competitive, it may be worth reaching out to current students to see what class make ups look like or Program Directors to see what advice they may give. Unfortunately, the application process is a “black box” and each institution has different qualities, traits, and experience they seem to value.
What are my chances of getting into School X? / Should I apply this year or wait until I have more experience?
No one knows. Your chances of getting into a school that you haven't applied to are zero. Contact the program for specific questions and guidance about your situation. The application process is a "black box" process with only the Program Directors and Admissions Council Members knowing how they work and what they are looking for in the current cohort. If you have specific questions about feedback you have received, feel free to ask them. Generic "what if" questions have a low likelihood of being approved in this subreddit.
Social Media
Look over all your social media accounts. Clean them up. Present yourself well online.
Additional Resources
/prospective_perfusion - subreddit dedicated to the application process and questions
/perfusion_accepted - subreddit dedicated to accepted students
 
 
Thanks to ghansie10 for the original thread - if you see this, please DM me!
Please report broken links or incorrect information to the moderators.
Feel free to post questions or information below.

I’m not actually angry angry but at the same time, my heart is broken

Every Sunday, or whenever it is possible, I give a recap of the sermon I heard at church today. I am Orthodox but I visit Catholic and Protestant churches to learn about them when we don't do the Liturgy. Keep in mind that this is a recap of the sermon I heard; this does not necessarily mean I agree with it. This is to share what is actually being taught in Orthodox, Catholic and Protestant churches, which may challenge or perhaps strengthen preconceptions.
Today's readings:
Acts 2:1-11

When the Day of Pentecost had fully come, they were all with one accord in one place. And suddenly there came a sound from heaven, as of a rushing mighty wind, and it filled the whole house where they were sitting. Then there appeared to them divided tongues, as of fire, and one sat upon each of them. And they were all filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak with other tongues, as the Spirit gave them utterance. And there were dwelling in Jerusalem Jews, devout men, from every nation under heaven. And when this sound occurred, the multitude came together, and were confused, because everyone heard them speak in his own language. Then they were all amazed and marveled, saying to one another, “Look, are not all these who speak Galileans? And how is it that we hear, each in our own language in which we were born? Parthians and Medes and Elamites, those dwelling in Mesopotamia, Judea and Cappadocia, Pontus and Asia, Phrygia and Pamphylia, Egypt and the parts of Libya adjoining Cyrene, visitors from Rome, both Jews and proselytes, Cretans and Arabs—we hear them speaking in our own tongues the wonderful works of God.”

Galatians 5:16-25

I say then: Walk in the Spirit, and you shall not fulfill the lust of the flesh. For the flesh lusts against the Spirit, and the Spirit against the flesh; and these are contrary to one another, so that you do not do the things that you wish. But if you are led by the Spirit, you are not under the law. Now the works of the flesh are evident, which are: adultery, fornication, uncleanness, lewdness, idolatry, sorcery, hatred, contentions, jealousies, outbursts of wrath, selfish ambitions, dissensions, heresies, envy, murders, drunkenness, revelries, and the like; of which I tell you beforehand, just as I also told you in time past, that those who practice such things will not inherit the kingdom of God. But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control. Against such there is no law. And those who are Christ’s have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires. If we live in the Spirit, let us also walk in the Spirit. Let us not become conceited, provoking one another, envying one another.

John 15:26-27; 16:12-15

When the Helper comes, whom I shall send to you from the Father, the Spirit of truth who proceeds from the Father, He will testify of Me. And you also will bear witness, because you have been with Me from the beginning. I still have many things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now. However, when He, the Spirit of truth, has come, He will guide you into all truth; for He will not speak on His own authority, but whatever He hears He will speak; and He will tell you things to come. He will glorify Me, for He will take of what is Mine and declare it to you. All things that the Father has are Mine. Therefore I said that He will take of Mine and declare it to you.

This evening, we celebrate the feast of Pentecost. The feast raises two questions for us: first, why does the Holy Spirit come upon the disciples only then? Why fifty days after the Resurrection, and ten days after the Ascension? Upon which conditions does He come? And second, why does the Holy Spirit, when He comes upon us, not produce the same extraordinary results? When He fell upon the apostles, they could evangelize the entire world, they were on fire for God. Why does the same effect not happen for us?
To address the first question: By the time of Pentecost, Christ had already left. The apostles' time spent with Him already felt like a distant memory. They were once full of certainty when He was with them, but now they are hiding in the upper room in fear and anticipation. Why does the Holy Spirit come upon them at that time? Because He can only fill up an empty heart; it is as with a cup of water, if it is full then adding a drop of anything else would cause it to overflow, and if it is not totally empty the new drink will only mix with the old, but it must be totally empty to be filled with the new drink.
The apostles abandoned any hope for worldly glory after the Ascension; at the Ascension itself, they still expected such a thing, asking Christ when He would restore the Kingdom of Israel, but His answer made them understand that one must not hope for a worldly kingdom, but for the heavenly Kingdom of God. Now, pride is no longer an obstacle preventing them from receiving the Spirit, for pride is the enemy of everything that is good.
Today's reading began like the scene of the Tower of Babel, as many men from around the world are gathered. Then, mankind hoped to reach up to the heavens and have its name inscribed in glory; the Tower of Babel was for the glory of man. But the gift of the Holy Spirit is for the glory of God. But, let us be careful about seeking the glory of man.
Let us look at this very church: the pillars were once as tall as those of the local cathedral, but human ambition and competition led to these pillars getting renovated to be even taller, messing up the intended proportions of the building... Also, there used to be frescoes depending the scene of Pentecost between the arcades, but the latter were modified in the baroque era: it was thought that the baroque style was more fashionable, and so these were renovated, but as a result the frescoes can no longer be seen. Likewise, pride is often hidden from ourselves, yet it truly prevents us from seeing what we should see!
So, it is when the apostles were freed from pride that they could be fitting recipients for the Holy Spirit. In fact, they were not only without pride, but they were even wounded, having before their eyes their own betrayal and abandonment of Christ. Yet sometimes, such a wound is a necessary condition to receive the Spirit as well. Here is an analogy: for a long time, we had no idea why some oysters had pearls and some did not. But it was finally discovered that an oyster generates a pearl as a defense mechanism, when it is wounded, such as when small rocks get inside their shell and hurt them. So likewise, our sin can be a necessary wound to cure us from pride.
To address the second question: When they received the Holy Spirit, the disciples began to speak in tongues and to proclaim the Gospel. But as for us, when we receive the Holy Spirit in the sacrament of confirmation, no such evident signs happen. So, what of it? Here is another analogy: When we get a car restored, we love to turn it on, to hear its engine purr, we may step on the accelerator and hear the car go “vroom”... but, the car is not actually moving, it is only making noise. One must activate the transmission manually for it to actually start. And for us Christians, there is no automatic transmission! We must connect the power of the Spirit with our own will.
Evil has nothing to do whatsoever with the Spirit, as St. Paul described in his epistle. We must actively make an effort to abstain from evil, and only then will the Holy Spirit empower us. This is not easy in the slightest, but we must find the motivation to do it! Imagine if your sins were openly published in the newspaper every day, would this not suffice to motivate you to no longer sin? Imagine if your good works were displayed to the angels in the world to come as a film for them to watch, would this not suffice to motivate you to obey the commandments?
Today, the Holy Spirit still comes upon us as He did upon the apostles. But He does not do so violently, He does not force our will; we must first align our will with Him and then He will come. If we do not speak in tongues, let us at least speak with the universal tongue known as “charity.” If we begin with this, by proclaiming the Gospel in such a manner to all those around us, not necessarily to people in another country speaking a foreign tongue but rather to the people immediately around us, then the Holy Spirit will, through ourselves, transform the world around us.
Let us pray that the Holy Spirit descends upon us, that His work may be efficacious in us. Amen.

Every Sunday, or whenever it is possible, I give a recap of the sermon I heard at church today. I am Orthodox but I visit Catholic and Protestant churches to learn about them when we don't do the Liturgy. Keep in mind that this is a recap of the sermon I heard; this does not necessarily mean I agree with it. This is to share what is actually being taught in Orthodox, Catholic and Protestant churches, which may challenge or perhaps strengthen preconceptions.
Today's readings:
Acts 2:1-11

When the Day of Pentecost had fully come, they were all with one accord in one place. And suddenly there came a sound from heaven, as of a rushing mighty wind, and it filled the whole house where they were sitting. Then there appeared to them divided tongues, as of fire, and one sat upon each of them. And they were all filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak with other tongues, as the Spirit gave them utterance. And there were dwelling in Jerusalem Jews, devout men, from every nation under heaven. And when this sound occurred, the multitude came together, and were confused, because everyone heard them speak in his own language. Then they were all amazed and marveled, saying to one another, “Look, are not all these who speak Galileans? And how is it that we hear, each in our own language in which we were born? Parthians and Medes and Elamites, those dwelling in Mesopotamia, Judea and Cappadocia, Pontus and Asia, Phrygia and Pamphylia, Egypt and the parts of Libya adjoining Cyrene, visitors from Rome, both Jews and proselytes, Cretans and Arabs—we hear them speaking in our own tongues the wonderful works of God.”

Galatians 5:16-25

I say then: Walk in the Spirit, and you shall not fulfill the lust of the flesh. For the flesh lusts against the Spirit, and the Spirit against the flesh; and these are contrary to one another, so that you do not do the things that you wish. But if you are led by the Spirit, you are not under the law. Now the works of the flesh are evident, which are: adultery, fornication, uncleanness, lewdness, idolatry, sorcery, hatred, contentions, jealousies, outbursts of wrath, selfish ambitions, dissensions, heresies, envy, murders, drunkenness, revelries, and the like; of which I tell you beforehand, just as I also told you in time past, that those who practice such things will not inherit the kingdom of God. But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control. Against such there is no law. And those who are Christ’s have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires. If we live in the Spirit, let us also walk in the Spirit. Let us not become conceited, provoking one another, envying one another.

John 15:26-27; 16:12-15

When the Helper comes, whom I shall send to you from the Father, the Spirit of truth who proceeds from the Father, He will testify of Me. And you also will bear witness, because you have been with Me from the beginning. I still have many things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now. However, when He, the Spirit of truth, has come, He will guide you into all truth; for He will not speak on His own authority, but whatever He hears He will speak; and He will tell you things to come. He will glorify Me, for He will take of what is Mine and declare it to you. All things that the Father has are Mine. Therefore I said that He will take of Mine and declare it to you.

This evening, we celebrate the feast of Pentecost. The feast raises two questions for us: first, why does the Holy Spirit come upon the disciples only then? Why fifty days after the Resurrection, and ten days after the Ascension? Upon which conditions does He come? And second, why does the Holy Spirit, when He comes upon us, not produce the same extraordinary results? When He fell upon the apostles, they could evangelize the entire world, they were on fire for God. Why does the same effect not happen for us?
To address the first question: By the time of Pentecost, Christ had already left. The apostles' time spent with Him already felt like a distant memory. They were once full of certainty when He was with them, but now they are hiding in the upper room in fear and anticipation. Why does the Holy Spirit come upon them at that time? Because He can only fill up an empty heart; it is as with a cup of water, if it is full then adding a drop of anything else would cause it to overflow, and if it is not totally empty the new drink will only mix with the old, but it must be totally empty to be filled with the new drink.
The apostles abandoned any hope for worldly glory after the Ascension; at the Ascension itself, they still expected such a thing, asking Christ when He would restore the Kingdom of Israel, but His answer made them understand that one must not hope for a worldly kingdom, but for the heavenly Kingdom of God. Now, pride is no longer an obstacle preventing them from receiving the Spirit, for pride is the enemy of everything that is good.
Today's reading began like the scene of the Tower of Babel, as many men from around the world are gathered. Then, mankind hoped to reach up to the heavens and have its name inscribed in glory; the Tower of Babel was for the glory of man. But the gift of the Holy Spirit is for the glory of God. But, let us be careful about seeking the glory of man.
Let us look at this very church: the pillars were once as tall as those of the local cathedral, but human ambition and competition led to these pillars getting renovated to be even taller, messing up the intended proportions of the building... Also, there used to be frescoes depending the scene of Pentecost between the arcades, but the latter were modified in the baroque era: it was thought that the baroque style was more fashionable, and so these were renovated, but as a result the frescoes can no longer be seen. Likewise, pride is often hidden from ourselves, yet it truly prevents us from seeing what we should see!
So, it is when the apostles were freed from pride that they could be fitting recipients for the Holy Spirit. In fact, they were not only without pride, but they were even wounded, having before their eyes their own betrayal and abandonment of Christ. Yet sometimes, such a wound is a necessary condition to receive the Spirit as well. Here is an analogy: for a long time, we had no idea why some oysters had pearls and some did not. But it was finally discovered that an oyster generates a pearl as a defense mechanism, when it is wounded, such as when small rocks get inside their shell and hurt them. So likewise, our sin can be a necessary wound to cure us from pride.
To address the second question: When they received the Holy Spirit, the disciples began to speak in tongues and to proclaim the Gospel. But as for us, when we receive the Holy Spirit in the sacrament of confirmation, no such evident signs happen. So, what of it? Here is another analogy: When we get a car restored, we love to turn it on, to hear its engine purr, we may step on the accelerator and hear the car go “vroom”... but, the car is not actually moving, it is only making noise. One must activate the transmission manually for it to actually start. And for us Christians, there is no automatic transmission! We must connect the power of the Spirit with our own will.
Evil has nothing to do whatsoever with the Spirit, as St. Paul described in his epistle. We must actively make an effort to abstain from evil, and only then will the Holy Spirit empower us. This is not easy in the slightest, but we must find the motivation to do it! Imagine if your sins were openly published in the newspaper every day, would this not suffice to motivate you to no longer sin? Imagine if your good works were displayed to the angels in the world to come as a film for them to watch, would this not suffice to motivate you to obey the commandments?
Today, the Holy Spirit still comes upon us as He did upon the apostles. But He does not do so violently, He does not force our will; we must first align our will with Him and then He will come. If we do not speak in tongues, let us at least speak with the universal tongue known as “charity.” If we begin with this, by proclaiming the Gospel in such a manner to all those around us, not necessarily to people in another country speaking a foreign tongue but rather to the people immediately around us, then the Holy Spirit will, through ourselves, transform the world around us.
Let us pray that the Holy Spirit descends upon us, that His work may be efficacious in us. Amen.

I went through Quit Mormon and removed my name from records. Quit Mormon even sent me via email a “certificate.” Well, my names not removed, at all. I can still login to the ward directory and can still see my name and records on the directory (date baptized, record number, etc). An old lady from church did her duty and dropped off a treat from the church the other day. I accepted it and said thanks. But it appears nothing has changed. Nothing. Either Quit Mormon is a failed project or something. But the question is, how do I get my name permanently removed from church records? What else can I do? I just want out. I’m so frustrated and I feel trapped. I don’t want old widows having to walk around and for FREE be the church’s free labor to bring me a .25 cent gift from a greedy corrupt business that I detest. Please, how can I get off the records besides Quit Mormon? I think it’s broken (yes, it was notorized and everything.) What do I do now?