Collanite Season 1: Storyline: one day, during day of the blood ring on monstinia, a portal made of this excess energy formed in the relatively small but populated and active island, known as aphrodite, not only that, but it also created a energy dome around itself, that slowly grew until it covered the entire island, causing strange, anomalous events to occur on the island. On further investigation, it was discovered that these events only affect aphrodite. Later on, from the same portal, a group of people from another world fell through into the island and started colonizing it for themself. Theme: strange, otherworldly characters have entered aphrodite
Locations: Monster Metropolis, Saltwater Shore, Skier Slopes, Doggy Diner, Peace Pond, Mount Anon, Starlit Suburb, Golden Saucer, Cozy Cabins, Sakura Swim Club, Misty Mesa, Sacred Shrines
Skins: Travis Touchdown(1), Link(22), 2b(43), Glamrock Freddy(62), Monika(84), Cloud Strife(100)
Destruction Tools: Blood Berry, Ancient Battle Axe, Virtuous Contract, Glamrock Mic, Heart Pen, Buster Sword
Backblings: Blood Berry, Hyrule Shield, Virtuous Contract, Glamrock Giftbox, Poetry Book, Buster Sword
Emoticons: Ancient Bow Drawn, Well Done Superstar, MonikaHeart, Confident Cloud
Gliders: Demzamtiger, Wild Paraglider, yoRHa Flight Unit, Car Battery, Poetry Book, Hardy Daytona
Contrails: Sheikah Symbol, Pod 042, Blue Boltz, Glitching, Materia Orbs
Emotes: Beam Showoff, Milk Drink, Slate Check, Phut Hon, Glamrock Wave, Glamrock Giftbox, Write Your Heart, Code Panel, Piano Practice, Victory!
Weapon Wraps: Tunic Of Memories, yoRHa Specialist, Glamrock Shell, Doki Hearts, Buster Steel
Music Pack: Berry Beatdown, Open Wilds, Blissful Death, Pizzaplex Performance, Your Reality, Let The Battle Begin
Weapon Charms: Jeane, Triforce Of Courage, Superstar, Chibi Sayori, Chocobo
Loading Screens: View Of The Wild, yoRHa Installation, Below The Pizzaplex, JuSt MoNiKa, Fantasy Evolution
Edit Styles: Purple Jacket(Travis Touchdown), Tunic Of Memories, Tunic Of The Wild, Well Worn Outfit(Link), 2p Mock Machine, Mask Off(2B), Dirty Freddy(Glamrock Freddy), Paper President, Ghost Menu Monika, Ponytail Monika, Jumpscares Monika(Monika), Playstation Polygonal(Cloud Strife)
Wildlife: Goose, Chocobo, Wolf, Horse, Snowcoat Fox
Weapons: Thrasher Assault Rifle, Thrasher Burst AR, Thunder Shotgun, Buster Shotgun, Calamity Submachine Gun, Sacred Submachine Gun, Tactical Pistol, Drum Pistol, Ancient Sniper Rifle, Monster Grenades, Silver Longsword, Royal Guards Sword, Beam Katana, Silver Knife, Bronze Knife
Items: Crafting Station, Pizza Box, Pizza Slices, Maple Sprout, Maple Vines, Apple, Baked Apple, Maple Pie, Raw Meat, Meat Skewer, Knights Shield
Weekly Challenges/Updates:
Week 1.
Visit Named Locations (3)
Deal Damage With The Bronze Or Silver Knife (300)
Search Loot Crates (5)
Plant A Maple Sprout, Then Consume Maple Vines (2)
Eliminations With Beam Katana (1)
Week 2.
Visit Starlit Suburb, Then Block Damage With A Shield (200)
Retrieve A Stolen Item From A Goose
Search Uncommon Or Rare Loot Crates (3), Deal Damage With A Thrasher Assault Rifle Or Thunder Shotgun (500)
Tame Horses Or Wolves (1)
Deal Damage With The Royal Guards Sword While Riding On A Horse (350)
Added: Bows, Arrows, Milk Bottles
Week 3.
Fire Arrows At Opponents (8)
Land At Sacred Shrines And Reach Top 50 (1)
Interact With yoHRa Pods (3)
Craft A Shotgun Or SMG Using The Crafting Station (1)
Deal Damage With A yoRHa Assault Rifle (300)
Added: yoHRa Assault Rifle
Week 4.
Pick Up Or Purchase A Pizza Box (1)
Visit Doggy Diner And Consume Pizza Slices (5)
Perform Dodge Rolls With The Knights Shield (3)
Construct A Stage Inside Of Doggy Diner (1)
Eliminate Opponents With The Silver Knife (5)
Week 5.
Visit The Clubroom At Starlit Suburbs (1)
Eliminate Opponents At Starlit Suburbs Or Sakura Swim Club (3)
Consume Cupcakes (5)
Collect A Fazer Blaster And Stun An Opponent Using It (1)
Delete Opponents By Eliminating Them With Four Hits Or Less (1)
Added: Apple Pie, Fazer Blaster
Week 6.
Visit Sacred Shrines Or Sakura Swim Club, Drink Milk Bottles (3)
Collect Torn Poem Pieces Scattered Around Starlit Suburb (7)
Restore Health And Stamina Using Meat Skewers (75)
Deal Damage Using Monster Grenades (150)
Destroy Structures With Beam Katana In A Single Match (20)
Week 7.
Consume Apple Pie (1)
Investigate Strange Energy Signals At Monster Metropolis, Mount Anon And Skier Slopes (3)
Collect A Tactical Pistol And Deal 150 Damage Using It
Piece Together The Torn Poem Pieces Into A Full Poem (7)
Get An Elimination With The Ancient Sniper Rifle (1)
Week 8.
Deal Damage With The Buster Sword (175)
Land At Golden Saucer
Block Damage With The Knights Shield 30 Seconds After Landing (150)
Visit Skier Slopes And Cozy Cabins In A Single Match
Land At Monster Metropolis And Deal Damage With The Buster Swords Cross Slash Or Blade Beam Attack (100)
Added: Buster Sword.
Week 9. Deal Total Damage With The Calamity Smg and Royal Guards Sword In A Single Match (300)
Consume Baked Apples, Maple Pies Or Pizza Slices In A Single Match (8)
Visit The Clubroom At Starlit Suburbs, Read The Pieced Together Poem (1)
Use The Buster Swords Cross Slash To Deal Damage In Different Matches (3)
Tame A Chocobo And Ride It 250 Meters
Week 10.
Interact With The Strange Gauntlet At Mount Anon (1)
Eliminate Opponents Using The Buster Sword (3)
Investigate Strange Objects Appearing At Monster Metropolis, Saltwater Shore, And Misty Mesa (1)
Defeat Prismarine Warriors (5)
Visit Named Locations In A Single Match (3)
Added: Prismarine Warriors, Prismarine Knife
End Event: Power Theft The event starts players around Mt. Anon. The event starts with an anomaly opening up at mount anon and from ot, Romeo the admin appears and steps out laughing maniacally “it is time, people of aphrodite. Time that I take this islands power for my own!” Romeo then rises up into the air, hovering above the center of mt. Anon.. then 2b rushes up the side of the mountain and slashes Romeo with the virtuous contract, causing him to yell out in pain for a moment before quickly composing himself and fires a blast of lava towards 2b, knocking her off the mountain and onto the ground with a thud. He then fires another blast, attempting to finish off the islanders of aphrodite, but monika forms a shield of code that absorbs the blast before closing it. “Don’t worry about him, we’ll stop him before he can do anything harmful” monika says, and then both cloud and travis run up to the mountain, weapons drawn- and then in sync, they jump up into the air and travis performs quick and powerful slashes with his beam katana, while cloud fires multiple blade beams at Romeo, greatly damaging him and knocking him back down onto the mountain, as they both fall back down sure they’ve beaten him.. and they took that moment to rest, but just then as soon as they let their guards down.. romeo began laughing before getting up and dusting himself off and commanding his army of prismarine colossus to rise up from the water around the island and attack everyone on it. Then saying “Now, back to absorbing this pathetic heart of yours” and forming a small protective shield around himself and firing two guardian beams at the center of the island, glamrock freddy then throws everyone a Fazer blaster to stun the colossi, allowing the rest of them to fire at them while they can’t move. Romeo then attempts to pull the power heart out, causing a small tremor as the power heart is ripped out from the core of the island, then once it’s all the way exposed he begins using the beams to absorb the crystallic energy. once the first set of colossus fall, another one walks up from the water almost immediately, and then monika seeing this, says “it’s no use. They just keep coming..” then she gets an idea, and says “alright, I have an idea. But- it’s a risky one..” “if the powerheart becomes corrupted, then it’s dark energy will drain the energy and power of anything making contact with it..” “but, as the heart is what controls everything on this island. If it gets corrupted, the islands landscape and everything would also become corrupted and sinister.. but it’s the only way” monika hesitates for a moment before manipulating and corrupting the powerheart. as the heart grows darker and begins to crack slightly, the influx of dark energy causes romeos beams to backfire, draining him of all his energy and admin powers and causing him to fall out of the sky, back onto the mountain and sliding down the side of it, hitting various things on his way down before eventually coming to a stop on the ground surrounded by everyone else. Romeo then lets out a weak cough, saying in a weak raspy voice “what.. h-happened?..” and link chimes in saying “you just got defeated by us.. now.” And link draws his sword, ready to finish off romeo.. but before he can, the powerheart lets out a big burst of dark energy, knocking everyone back and leaving a decent sized crater around it.

Chapter 4
Location: Glimmer Fate
POV: Faror Hend
No rain on the plains in Glimmer Fate. High black grasses make the area extremely hot. Faror Hend is patrolling the edge of the Vitr Sea with her cousin Spinnock Durav. The shore of the Vitr Sea is devoid of life and the breeze coming off of it stings the lungs. The liquid of the sea dissolves almost anything it comes into contact with including stones. Spinnock is sharpening his Hust blade on a stone that has been worn away by the sea. His blade is very old and therefore does not sing. It's new to him, but has been passed down for generations. A third rider in their party, Finarra Stone, was scouting the shoreline out of sight. Nothing lived this close, so it was safe to go alone. Today the Vitr is calm, but recently it has not been and storms had resulted in its claiming more land for the sea. The sea is expanding. Eventually it will come to the border of Kurald Galain if they cannot find a solution. The Tiste have no idea what the source of the Vitr is and how to stop it's expansion. Tiste scholars are also unwilling to consult with anyone outside the Tiste.
Faror Hend is extremely attracted to Spinnock Durav, but their houses are too close in relations for her to act on this attraction. Plus she is betrothed and older, although these would not be a barrier to her. Faror thinks of a line from a Gallan poem, "The ground is bare and hard / and will hold all secrets / and the sky cares not / for the games of those beneath it." She desperately wants to act on her lust, but so far has kept in control. Faror is a big Gallan fan. Spinnock seems to know how his cousin feels and teases her.
POV: Captain Finarra Stone
During her patrol of the Vitr coastline, Finarra finds a carcass. This is puzzling as she has never seen one this close to the sea. It appears to have come out of the sea itself. The corpse is huge with scales and a tail. But a lot of the body eaten away by the Vitr. The head and neck were missing and the top of the torso appears chewed. Very few Tiste had ever claimed to have seen a dragon, but this could be one. However, those legends all had them with wings and Faror did not see any evidence of wings on this beast. A breeze brought the stench to the horse and this caused it to back up a few steps making noise. At this the stump where the neck should be lifted. The creature begins shuffling towards her. With an unbelievably fast lurch it closes the distance and swipes at Faror and her horse with two arms catching the horse with both swipes. Faror finds herself tumbling through the air. She lands on her shoulder and breaks something. The beast is still again after decimating her horse. She decides to head for flatter ground to make better time back to her party. She is the daughter of Hust Henarald and possesses his sword. Her biggest threat now were the naked wolves that roamed Glimmer Fate. Faror contemplates the meaning of dark and light and the impossibility of either without the other. She also says that Mother Dark had been a mortal Tiste woman before embracing darkness. While Finarra is contemplating, something screams at her intending to freeze her with fear. Finarra mortally wounds it as it streaks by.
POV: Faror Hend
Hearing the screams of the wolves and no sound of their prey, Faror fears Finarra is the prey. She has not returned and it has been too long. Faror decides to leave Spinnock at camp and go to investigate. He tells her to be careful and he doesn't want to lose her. She responds by saying that he has many cousins. Faror can hear at least a dozen wolves and knows that it is likely that Finarra is fighting by herself without her horse. Thinking of Spinnock's face, she attempts to replace it in her mind with her betrothed, Kagamandra Tulas. A Tiste who the war had made gaunt. Tulas was of a low house and was under the command of Vatha Urusander. This alone would not have made house Durav attempt a betrothal. However, in the war he had saved the life of Silchas Ruin and by doing so had earned the favor of Mother Dark who would reward him by making him the head of a new High House. She thinks that the war stole Tulas's ability to love anything and she is not sure she can love him either, but she will try.
Eventually she finds the place of the wolf attack. There are many dead wolves. The fighting is over, but she does not see Finarra. She thinks further down the trail she will find wolves eating her corpse. Finarra comes out from behind some boulders. Faror begins to speak, but Finarra tells her to speak softly as something has walked out of the Vitr. Finarra chastises Faror for beginning to follow the path through the grasses that would have led to her death. Faror discovers that she had almost welcomed it. Finarra was tracking whatever had walked out of the Vitr when she came upon Faror. "Small footprints, puddles of Vitr pooled in them" She tells Faror that it is their duty to track it.
POV: Finarra Stone
Finarra in a lot of pain from her shoulder and wolf bites, contemplates the look she caught in Faror's eyes. One that told her she was seeking death. She thinks the cause may be Faror's betrothal to a broken man that may be incapable of love and being in close proximity to Spinnock who oozes it. "Spinnock Durav had been pursued by women and men since he had first come of age. He had learned to not give up too much of himself, since those hands reaching for him desired little more than conquest and possession." Finarra has also caught Spinnock's adoration of his cousin turning in to something else. She knows this kind of torture between them will ruin them. She contemplates how to fix the situation. Transferring one might work, but also thinks of another more sure answer.
POV: Faror Hend
Faror and Finarra are both on the back of Faror's horse. Finarra is unconscious and Faror is having a difficult time keeping her on the horse. She thinks about Finarra only being a few years older than her, but already being a battle veteran. She realizes that the wolves she found were not the ones killed by Finarra, but those of the someone that came from the sea. Faror makes it back to the camp. They treat the unconscious woman's wounds fearing infection.
POV: Spinnock Durav
They had burned away the dead flesh and infection on Finarra's leg hoping they got it all. Finarra has not woken up and is fevered. Spinnock outlines their options whether to stay until Finarra wakes up or to try to transport her as is. Faror informs him that Finarra wanted them to track the stranger from the Vitr. Faror tells Spinnock that Finarra needs a healer and soon, but they also need to track the stranger. Faror will go after the stranger and Spinnock will take Finarra to the outpost. Spinnock follows orders, but now there is a coldness between the cousins.
Following the trail she had discovered the previous night, Faror Hend found several more wolf corpses all killed with savage blows. The path she now followed, if kept straight, would lead directly to Kharkanas. Eventually she comes to a clearing and finds a fair-skinned, blonde woman clothed only in a scaled wolf hide over her shoulders. Everywhere else was sunburnt. She appears young and has no weapon, which is curious considering her roughly cut hair and several wolf corpses. Faror says she means no harm and asks if she is an Azathanai. To this the woman responds, "I know your language. But it is not mine. Azathanai. I know that word. Azat drevlid naratarh Azathanai. The people who were never born." After a few questions that the woman cannot answer, she tells Faror that she recalls nothing not even the sea she came out of or her own name. Faror tells the woman that she will escort her to Kharkanas to meet with Mother Dark and gives the woman a Tiste name until she can recall her own. The name is T'riss. Upon hearing this the woman smiles and says, "I am “born of the sea”. Faror asks if she will walk or ride with her. T'riss says that Faror's horse looks useful and she will have one too. She turns to the grasses and conjures a horse out of them. It seems that it's weight is too much for the grasses used. Looking at Faror, T'riss then conjures clothes, lance, and a sword out of the same grasses. This scares Faror because it is god-like sorcery. "‘Mother Dark.’ T’riss smiled. ‘That is a nice title.’"
Location: 3 days out from Neret Sorr
POV: Sharenas Ankhadu
Sharenas likes the heat. She tans nice unlike most of her cohort. She hates the cold and remembers her time in the campaign against the Jheleck unfondly. She is the commander of her cohort. Her sister and cousin, Infayen Menand and Tathe Lorat, are greatly renowned in the legion and being related to them saw high expectations settled onto Sharenas's shoulders. Her relatives are not currently with the legion. Hunn Raal and Osserc are in the vanguard and Ilgast Rend was not happy to be with them. He questions whether or not Urusander knows what Hunn Raal is doing. Osserc backs up Raal and so Ilgast drops the inquiry. Sharenas thinks Osserc is lying when he says his father knows of and approves this expedition. Sharenas thinks, "Hunn Raal is honourable. He knows what he is doing, and he knows, as do we all, that what he is doing is the right thing to do" She thinks Osserc is impulsive and has a thin skin, but Hunn Raal keeps him from making brash decisions. 3 cousins of Hunn Raal also accompanied them. Serap, Risp, and Sevegg all sleep with Hunn Raal, but their second cousins so it's not illegal. The last of their party is Kagamandra Tulas. He is forbidding and dangerous and hadn't spoken since their departure. They are heading towards the Warden outpost where Tulas's betrothed is stationed. Sharenas asserts that every woman could see that Tulas is dead inside and left his soul in the war. That he longs for death. She contemplates that once Urusander remakes the Tiste into a meritocracy, that arranged marriages will no longer be. Ironically because Tulas had given so much in defense of the Tiste he would be a prize as a husband. She pities Faror Hend and her future with this man. However she considers that Faror, just days after the betrothal, signed up with the wardens to get herself as far away as possible. Sharenas is very interested in witnessing the meeting between Tulas and Faror. She resolves to help Faror out of her predicament although it is only for her own amusement.
POV: Ilgast Rend
Ilgast does not like Hunn Raal or Osserc, thinking the former vain and arrogant and the latter nothing like his father except in appearance. Ilgast does not approve of all the debauchery that his fighting had bought for the Tiste. He thinks that Urusander has lost the plot himself. It wouldn't be long before the legion rebelled under his indifference. He would love it if Draconus was put in his place, but fears this would result in great bloodshed and does not want that. He also knows that if Hunn Raal is allowed to lead the legion in Urusander's absence, civil war was assured. "In a world of blood, everyone drowns". Ilgast is disappointed in Sharenas, thinking she would be wise enough not to fall into the wake of Hunn Raal. He feels he is in the middle of this brewing conflict being of a major house and also a cohort commander in Urusander's legion. Hunn Raal thinks he will help him convince the wardens to join his cause. However, he knows Calat Hustain will not join Hunn Raal. He is far too loyal to his own house. Ilgast remembers when Mother Dark was just a Tiste woman until she found the Gate. "Darkness was many things; most of all, it was selfish"

Last paragraph is the main, if you don’t want to read the context.
My ex gf was my friend for almost 6 years. During those years she ghosted me twice without a reason at all and she would come back regretting it a lot what she did, telling me she loved me, that she kept my poems and letters and that she thought about me almost everyday. I forgave her both times.
The second time she came back she confessed she had been drug abusing and that her life was a mess. She told me doing drugs didn’t allow her to think about what she really cared as me.She started lovebombing me even we lived in two different countries of Europe and about 1500km away. She wanted to come to visit me so badly. Love is blind and I ended falling for her as she treated me so damn well. We talked everyday, a lot, and she finally came to my house in summer.
We started dating and came again in autumn. Everything was perfect but after she left on autumn she went into a depressive episode where she wanted space and time for herself. We talked less than usual. She asked me if I would dump her for being depressed. I ensured her that wouldn’t happen at any case. At winter I got depressed after a bad medical new. At this point everything began to be complicated. She argued with me for no reason, she was mad at me for being depressed. I begged her for company to feel better which she said no all the time. I was preparing to visit her in a month but she always gave me excuses not to buy the flight ticket.
Two weeks after new year she broke up with me saying I made her life miserable, that we were not compatible. I begged for a break which she accepted and surprisingly she asked me the next day to give each other good night as she missed it. The first week she gave it and told me everyday she loved me, the next week she disappeared and when I stopped giving her good night she broke up with me. It was really traumatic as she went mad when I suggested she could have BPD as my psychiatrist and therapist know her since we met and for her bad childhood, drug abuse, other weird things she did, and how she treated me during all this time they believed in a high probability she had BPD.
I feel after 5 months I moved on, but I still feel sometimes the emptiness I have from having someone talking me everyday 24/7 to total blackness. I have my friends and I hang out with them having a really good time. I met a girl who I like and would like to date, but I feel empty. How have you dealt with this those who had been devalued and discarded from one day to another?
Thanks (will delete my post in a few days as I believe she still stalks me).

So I want to understand well my Capricorn and avoid to be a weirdo or freak her up.
So after a lot of years I retook contact with her because I wanted to apologize with her because I'm the past for lies from others, she ended getting mad at me for something I didn't have nothing to do and would take my distance for very long.
So we retook contact and was fine and good but something I have notice is that when chatting sometimes she won't answer more questions or keep the conversation going, so I would let her days to do her stuff and all that.
I know many would say but she is just disrespecting you and doesn't care , but I know her besides hating social medias and all that, she hasn't been doing great as well since her cat die some weeks ago, even thought it was a lot of years without contact I decided to help a little even thought she was surprised and say that she would repay me as soon as possible, I say it was allright that she would have done the same if I would be on difficulty.
Last week she have a fall down and posted some stuff about her cat, so we chatted a bit and she told me about the cats she has lost and even thought many hate sensibility , I somehow find this cute and give me more understanding of her.
Eventually I made an acrostic poem of her cat name with each letter, I don't know if it was cringe or bad , or that she simply read it and push the difficulties she got on the week.
The thing is that I didn't got an answer and I understand that she has been dealing with a lot, week has been busy for both of us.
But I don't know I'm thinking to write her seeing that tomorrow is Sunday and everybody got free but I don't want to be annoying or feel clingy to her.
Sooo capricorns, what should I do? What you people think is going on?
She hasn't answer many times in the past but I don't take it personally and let her be, she doesn't really write me first before except a few times with a greeting with a lot of exclamations marks hahaha.
I just don't want for her to lose interest, neither to feel alone and misunderstood in those difficult times.
She has told me that she doesn't feel understood about the situation of her cat with her family and she wrote me about it.
Sometimes in afraid to say the wrong thing because I feel like walking in a glass bridge that could break at anytime.

This is based off a post I saw somewhere else, and I thought it could make an interesting mental exercise where you'd have to think about what's the most important to you and how your goals would change based on the amount of time you had.
For the sake of this game, you'll know with 100% certainty that you'll be dead after your time allowance is up. There's no "but what if I only think I'll be dead in six months but then I'm not and I fucked up my entire life?" When your time is up, it's up. You'll be dead and won't have to live with the consequences of your actions.
So just for fun (and growth, maybe?) here's mine:
If I had 24 hours to live: Realistically, I'd know I wouldn't be able to accomplish anything of substance, so I'd just focus on pure pleasure. I'd go out and do something fun, maybe go to the nearby theme park in the city I haven't been to in a while or an expensive night club and wear my favorite outfit. I'd eat and drink whatever I wanted, and however much of it I wanted. When I got back home I'd take something to keep me as calm as possible and call/text the people I care about who live far away to let them know I care about them. I'd spend my last hours in bed watching a comfort movie.
If I had a week: I'd go on a road trip with my entire family to somewhere I always wanted to go to, maybe LA or somewhere similar, and spend the rest of my days there. Probably my actions would be pretty similar to the above, I'd just have slightly more time to do bigger things and say goodbye to people in person.
If I had a month: I'd quit my job for sure (for the top two, idk if I'd even bother to formally quit, I'd just stop showing up) and again, probably act fairly similar to above. I might try going to another country like Italy or Japan to see what it was like and try their food, but I don't think I'd want to die there. I'd also try and maybe finish something creative before my death, even if it was just a short story or a few poems.
If I had six months: 100% quitting my job and putting all my energy into finishing my long term writing project and having fun. I'd use my savings and hire a cleaner to come in once a month to take care of boring everyday tasks so I have as few distractions as possible.
If I had a year: Same as above really, but I might also try and experience a brief romance before the end. Probably wouldn't be able to truly fall in love but hopefully I'd at least meet someone cool.
If I had five years: I wouldn't quit my job, but I also try and find something better and something that would be fairly undemanding. I wouldn't be making any big career or life plans, but I would try to write something and get it professionally published before I died. I'd want to leave having made my mark on the world in some significant way.
If I had ten years: I'd probably quit my job ASAP to go back to school, while trying to find a relationship and work on my creative projects when I had free time or after I was done. IMO ten years would be super hard for me because it's long enough to where I'd definitely want to build a life but short enough to where I'd really have to haul ass if I wanted to make that life come to fruition.
If I had twenty years: Honestly, I'd probably be doing exactly what I'm doing now just with even more anxiety lol.
So yeah, feel free to add yours!

4 years together. 2 living together. I loved him. He didn’t feel the same way I guess. 18 days since we’ve broken up no contact.
fuck you for not answering me. fuck you for leading me on. fuck you. fuck you for getting that one last fuck in. fuck you for letting me believe we were still gonna be friends. fuck you for being okay. fuck you. fuck you flr never defending me. fuck uou for everything you did during the relationship. fuck you. fuck you. i was never going to be enough for you. i was never going to be what you so dreamed of. no matter what i was never going to be it for you? you were it for me. fuck you for pretending like you loved me. fuck you for letting me believe a lie for years. fuck you. fuck you. fuck you for not moving to Victoria. never ballsy enough to end it but to let me live in misery. fuck you for being miserable with me. fuck you nathan. i hope one day you see this and think about how much you miss me. i hope you think back and realized that i loved you so hard and raw. i hope you realize what you did. i would’ve never slept with you or stayed with u for that night knowing you had no intention of continuing it. fuck you. fuck you. you let me believe you still loved me. you let me have hope for having you in my life. fuck you for everything you did. fuck you for letting me love you. fuck you for the way you handled this breakup. fuck you. fuck you. fuck you. fuck you for never being there for me. fuck you for letting me cry myself to sleep next you to after i got diagnosed. i made you dinner after i got literal chemo. i had spots on my brain. you didn’t even hold me after. you were not there for me. you let me sob and didn’t even look me in hen eye. fuck you. fuck you. i tried to be a cool girl with you. I will never be cool enough. did i ever mean anything to you? was i just a body to keep you company? how can you just be fine? fuck you for wrecking my college experience. fuck you for pretending to love me. how could you love me and still be okay? fuck you for not wishing me a happy birthday. fuck you for never being vulnerable. fuck you for letting me believe i was worth anything to you. fuck u for becoming this twisted villain. i wish i could go back and erase you. i wish you never dated me. i would never have to feel like this. i would never have to be this alone. fuck uou for not trying. i begged you to love me. i begged to be enough. i sobbed to you BEGGING for a change. i beg and beg and beg and you never verbalized anything. i made you love letters, playlists, poems. i planned our future. you played video games. i am pretty, fun, funny. i am kind. i am a good person, and you destroyed me. do you hear me telling you that? you wrecked me. you took my spark and ate it. you took my beauty and stomped on it. you never said or with your words but your actions. i was worthless to you. i wasn’t even worth making dinner or a date. i wasn’t worth dinner to you. I would’ve been your wife. I would’ve been your wife. I would’ve been your wife. do you hear that? i would’ve started a life with you. actually, i did! i derailed my life for someone who couldn’t even make me fucking dinner. do you feel like a man now? do feel like one of the boys now? fuck you. how can i be friends with a man that so blanatly doesn’t care about me? respect me? did you ever? and now you’re gonna go on and paint me the villain, but i think we both know how hard i loved you. remember when i asked you if you thought we were soulmates? you said you didn’t believe in soulmates. neither did i but my love for you was so intense i started too. your love for me was so dull you can just throw me away. i fell so madly in love with you for so long and you thought i was just fine. i was nothing to you. i was just to keep you company? better than being alone? the most sick and twisted part is i do wish you the best. i want you to live a good life and fall in love and feel so much love. i want you to be okay, just wish you could’ve missed me like i miss you. if only for a little while i wish you couldve loved me like i loved you. i want you to have a wife and kids and the life you deserve, i just wish it could’ve been me. i wish i could’ve been enough for you. you loved me like a first love, but you weren’t my first, just my best. this was puppy love for you, but this was soul crushing intense love for me. you’re never supposed to read this, so if you are i on a whim decided to send it. you can take it however you want. you can paint me however you see fit, but just so you know i loved (love) you. i still crave your skin, your mind, your hair. i think i might forever. you hurt me. you hurt me so deep. i feel used. maybe im angry, or depressed, or maybe i just feel disgusted by how much of myself i gave you. you told me we would continue to see each other after (if only to be friends, or maybe more) but you looked me in the eyes and promised we would still see each other, so we had sex. so i continued to be vulnerable with you. but you never intended to stay friends with me or continue hanging out. you just wanted one last fuck. we had sex better than we have in months. is it because you knew it would be the last time? when you dropped off my stuff you kept the car running. im not even worth it to stop a minute? im not worth a hug goodbye? im completely worthless to you. you never even listened to the playlist i made you. how could i expect you to love me? how could i expect you respect me? how could i expect anything at all? i don’t know how to be a person anymore. you never looked at the posts i sent you. you never wanted to go out. you never wanted me. you never wanted me. you never wanted me. i don’t understand how you can just be ok. im sick to my stomach. everytime something happens i just want to call you. i just want to hear ur voice. i just want to see your face. i know you never want to see me again and it’s so hard. the worst part is i don’t hate you at all. i love you so much. why didn’t you love me? how am i ever going to be okay again? how am i ever going to live with this constant pit in my stomach. how can you not want me back? how can you possibly be ok right now? why wasn’t i good enough for you? how are you still laughing and being funny and having a good time? why didn’t you wish me a happy birthday? why don’t you miss me ? why don’t you miss me? why don’t you miss me?

Mastering the Repetitive Beauty of the Triolet**
Summary:
A triolet is a short poetic form with eight lines, typically characterized by a specific rhyme scheme and repeated lines. The first, fourth, and seventh lines are the same, as are the second and eighth lines. This creates a rhythmic and melodic pattern within the poem.
Examples:

1. "A Triolet" by Christina Rossetti.
   
2. "Triolet on a Line Apocryphally Attributed to Martin Luther" by A. E. Stallings.
   
3. "Triolet" by Robert Bridges.
   

Tips for Creative Writing:

• Choose a Captivating Refrain: Craft a refrain that can be interpreted in multiple ways.
  
• Explore Emotional Layers: Use repetition to emphasize different emotions with each iteration.
  
• Mind the Syllabic Count: Maintain a consistent syllabic count for each line.
  

Questions for Exploration:

1. How does the repetition of lines contribute to the triolet's impact?
   
2. Can you think of everyday situations or emotions that could be beautifully expressed through a triolet?
   

Additional Resources:

• Explore triolets by French poets from the 17th century for historical context.
  
• Read contemporary poets like Mary Jo Bang for innovative approaches to the triolet form.
  

Creative Writing Prompt:
Step 1: Choose a theme or emotion for your triolet.
Step 2: Craft a captivating refrain that encapsulates the essence of your chosen theme.
Step 3: Develop the narrative or emotion within the remaining lines, incorporating the refrain.
Example: In twilight's embrace, shadows softly fall (A) In twilight's embrace, shadows softly fall (A) A dance of darkness, a poetic sprawl (B) In twilight's embrace, shadows softly fall (A)
Remember: The triolet's concise structure offers a canvas for exploring depth within brevity.

Below I summarize and paraphrase Fanon's essay into a schematic fashion. Hopefully this will be useful to some.
Original: https://proletarian-library.neocities.org/en/on-national-culture

The three phases of the colonized intellectual

Phase 1: Racial and regional culture.

Colonialism asserts that the colonized are barbarians without nations or culture, who need colonialism in order to be saved from themselves. It does not bother with making a special case against the existence of any individual nationalism, but for the sake of efficiency, instead chooses to deny the existence of culture on regional or racial grounds. This also has a reciprocal effect on the colonizing Europeans nations, forming them into an international mass of whiteness.
In an attempt to negate the Europeans' claims, the colonized intellectuals assert an international or interregional culture, such as Pan-Africanism, or Pan-Arabism. The colonized intellectual first finds the qualities that define white culture: dull reason, stifling logic, rigidity, ceremony, protocol, skepticism - qualities of the capitalist colonialist venture and the cold calculation of surplus value. Within these limits, the intellectual then defines the regional culture by finding the opposite of those qualities: poetry, exuberant nature, naivete, petulance, freedom, luxuriance - portraying the colonized as irresponsible. Although it emphasizes international solidarity against colonialism, the simple negation of racial capitalist culture does not culminate in an overall antagonistic contradiction to colonialism. The intellectual who forwards it desires most of all to be seen as equals to the Europeans. They attempt to combat the colonizer on their own terms, resorting to racialized claims to match the concept of whiteness and the vision of a universal Europe. Equal footing in this case then could only mean that the colonized intellectuals meet the European intellectuals as the exploited to their exploiter.
However, soon objective problems undo this attempt at regional culture. The intellectual finds that the fight against colonialism differs in progression amongst the nations of the region. They abandon their asserted regional/racial culture once these objective problems make it clear that the decisive unit of struggle against colonialism is the nation, not the region or race. As culture is a reflection of struggle, it too differs amongst the nations, revealing that culture is first and foremost national. To be connected to reality, productive, and substantive, culture must be a national culture, not a pseudo-continental culture. The problem with the racialized cultures, is that they are a negation without transcendence of the colonialist's whiteness, whereas national culture is the progressive negation of the colonialist claims of barbarity. In order to really find a regional culture and cultural unity of a region, first there must be national liberation for all nations in that region. Specifically national problems expose racial universalization as immaterial, returning the intellectual back to the nation.

Phase 2: Stuck between the colonizer and the masses.

Phase 2A: Persuading the colonizer with defensive shallow national culture.

As the intellectual returns to the nation, their approach to the national culture has been altered. In the period preceding colonialism, the intellectual has a dynamic attitude towards the people’s culture, but after colonialism, this is replaced by a static attitude full of concrete particularism. The intellectual claims that national culture is the folklore of 'the people', turning it into simple self-discovery and at attempt at defining an abstract people through historical appeals. National culture becomes defined by narrow terms and limits, a rigid structure. Particulars of the nation are elevated to mystical proportions to signify the nation's historical roots. The intellectual brings forth cultural items in a mechanical way, finding the most surface level cultural items to display the existence of a national culture. It is loud, it is bold, and it is cliche.
This aesthetic of particularism is a defense mechanism to preserve what remains of the old culture and life before colonialism. It is also an attempt to assert the nation to the colonizer. The intellectual hopes they can stop the colonial occupation by putting the shallow culture under the occupier's nose. But to do this, they must necessarily make the culture comprehensible to the occupier, translating the culture into a language they will understand. This locks the intellectual into the style and aesthetic of the colonialist, dooming the culture to shallowness, and especially making it alien to the national masses.
The national masses have their own relationship to the national customs. Following conquest, they continue to practice the customs of pre-conquest culture. They do this as a means of asserting their nationhood, in the only way they know how. In doing so, they prove by themselves that their nation does exist, despite the colonizers' claims to the contrary. This demonstration of nationhood upsets the racial (nation denial) justification of colonialism and is subsequently prohibited by the colonizers. When, in spite of prohibition, the masses go on practicing the customs, the colonizer responds with repression, calling forth a correspondingly violent reaction by the colonized. Such violence unites and emboldens the national masses, furthering their claim to nationhood.
But this practice and defense of customs is not in itself a struggle for national liberation. Rather, the violence is too only a defensive reaction to prevent losing what little remains of material life before domination. Customs are built by, and reflect the needs of, struggles that existed before the fight for national liberation. In their practice, the masses parade out something that is dead and try to pretend it is alive. Culture, on the other hand, reflects the living, always adapting needs of the present. Culture becomes solidified into custom through changes in the economic structure. Thus, asserting that customs are the primary symbol of the nation deteriorates the culture, making it lifeless, highlighting the past while ignoring the issues of the present. However, there is a positive side to the masses continual practice of customs under colonialism. By experiencing the masses’ demonstration of nationhood, the intellectual sees that the nation is being created through the masses' struggle against colonialism.

Phase 2B: Moving towards the masses, recreating their struggle.

The intellectual starts to identify with the masses through their movements and their development of national consciousness, moving the primacy of the contradiction within themselves towards the masses. The longer any open battle and combat for national liberation persists, more intellectuals will be moved from phase 2A, through 2B. The national masses' staying power, their ability to persist in their struggle despite repression, setbacks, and any other attempts to stop their struggle, impresses the intellectual and impels them to stop whatever else they were doing.
The intellectual begins to openly criticize colonialism, rather than attempting to persuade it. When the intellectual first attempts to prove the existence of the nation, they, in a kind of clumsy way, raise above all else the particulars of custom. But now, the masses have displayed their fresh vibrant quality of creation in the struggle. By counterposing this quality of the masses to the qualities of the colonial administrator, the opposition between the colonialist and the intellectual are brought to an antagonistic contradiction, progressing past the racial and regional culture of phase 1.
The intellectual’s work now changes forms, from poetry to novels, short stories or essays. The work becomes more direct. The abstract indirectness of poetry fades away as the intellectual becomes involved in the masses' struggle. The content of the work changes as well. Gone are the intellectual’s emotional cathartic outbursts towards the colonizer, which were always acceptable to the colonizer anyway. As long as violence is left to the domain of art, and doesn’t make its way to the masses, these outbursts will always be applauded.
But now the audience is shifted. In phase 2A, the audience is still the colonizer, while in phase 2B the masses become the audience. The intellectual now insists on describing the sacrifices of the national masses. They attempt to capture the masses in their moment of national creation. The intellectual analyzes and describes the moment of revolt with unnerving precision, creating a careful rendition of truth. But Fanon asks if this version of truth is real, or if it is outmoded, irrelevant, called into question by the actual reality being created by the masses.
Despite their rationality and commitment, the intellectual still fails to live up to the rationality and irreversible commitment displayed by the masses actually in motion. The intellectual is not capable of showing the reality of the nation this way, because culture is the continual never-ending struggle of the nation. As soon as the artist sets down to catalog the moment, it has passed. The intellectual that attempts to create culture and a work of national significance by simple replication of motion is chasing a dead end.
The intellectual who is intent on describing the national culture must make a full break with their colonial side. The intellectual is still caught in a contradiction that makes the creation of culture impossible. They must decisively define the masses as their subject. This objective choice must first begin within the intellectual, through recognizing their division between their colonialist education, and the colonized nation. Fanon calls this the intellectual’s alienation. This alienation is a result of what the intellectual has taken from colonialism. The transaction has been one-sided; the colonizer did not actually give what the intellectual took. Everything ‘given’ has been in the interest of colonialism, making the intellectual the one who was really taken. In an attempt to reverse what they gave, the intellectual proclaims against the colonizer, proclaims for the nation, proclaims against being divided, attempts to reunite with the nation through old dead customs. But to really reverse what was taken, the intellectual must give instead to the masses. The intellectual must reunite with the masses and the living culture of the present struggle. This will suddenly call the alienation into question.
The intellectual of 2B begins with simply highlighting the contradictions between the nation and the colonizer. But culture is authentic when it reflects the reality of the nation, and the reality and culture of the colonized nation is not just its life under domination, but actually its liberation. The culture describes where the nation is going, not just where it is at or where it has been, calling upon the whole people to join in the struggle for the existence of the nation. They must move to rousing the masses to liberation.

Phase 3: Revolutionary national culture

The intellectual transitions into their role of delivering marching orders for the liberation struggle, becomes more direct and calculated. It is only by calling the national masses to combat that the intellectual can assist in proving the existence of the nation. All other attempts at proving the nation's existence are for the colonizer only. The present colonial situation is no longer a matter simply for the intellectual, for their personal anguish, which they only communicate to the oppressor, but instead is channeled out to the national masses in every direction. The intellectual is called to the masses in their struggle for national liberation, but just the same, the intellectual calls the masses to rise for national liberation. Fanon’s word choices: rouse, galvanize, combat, signal that this is not a portrayal for artistic sake but for the purpose of revolution.
Only the intellectuals who are rousing the masses for the current national struggle at hand, speaking directly to the masses, are creating works of national culture. In all other roles, they fall short. Until they reach this point, the culture of the nation does not exist for the intellectual. They cannot create national culture, nor proclaim the nation by extension, until they rouse the people to combat. Then the intellectual can finally create, and finally becomes creative. To fight for national culture means fighting for the liberation of the nation. The intellectual who wants to fight for culture, must take part in the action by spurring the people into further action, fostering hope and using the past to open up the future.
Phase 3 creation does not 'trifle with the reality' of the nation, a characteristic of phase 2 creation, but rather reinterprets the images of the country for revolutionary purposes. It also finds the exact moment of the struggle, place of action, and ideas around which culture will form. The word 'will' is the main difference between phase 2 and 3. Phase 2B describes where the moment of struggle took place, rather than where it will take place. Phase 2B tells us about the struggle after it has passed, while phase 3 leads and amplifies the wave of the struggle.
Phase 3 literature is pedagogical. It presents things in a clear manner, and its account is meticulous and develops progressively. The most esteemed praise Fanon places upon the intellectual is to say that, through understanding their creation of national culture, the masses have performed an intellectual and political act:

To understand this poem is to understand the role we have to play, to identify our approach and prepare to fight.

This is the outline to any combat. The colonized national masses understand their position within the chain of command, the battle plan, and are ready to deploy at any moment. Fanon says that all colonized subjects will perform these acts when they receive the message of the national culture.
The intellectual and the masses' real movement against the colonial world is the determining factor for the culture. National liberation defines the national culture in explicit terms, determining the shape the intellectual’s work takes. Customs in all art forms will be upset during the revolutionary upsurge, updated to be relevant to the current struggle. The rough skeletons of customs are kept while the content and form are changed, transforming customs into living dynamic culture. New amateurs join in the creation of national culture, pushing old intellectuals to adapt to the new forms. Comedy and farce as artistic forms become less important, and drama is no longer simply for the intellectual only, but becomes part of the national masses regular experience, part of the struggle. Characters are portrayed in action or in combat, or instead of depicting single subjects, multiple people.
The degree to which the new culture reflects the old customs, is only determined by the capacity for the old customs to be appropriated to the new ends of advancing the national struggle. In practice, appeals to custom are not excluded by a set of rules, but rather the awakening to the real national culture, which is always in the moment changing, naturally excludes custom by definition. Custom is stagnant and in contradiction to the radical reality grasping required by revolution. National culture deteriorates and erodes all customs obsolete to the present. Involving or carrying through the customs is not the critical part of the formation of the new national culture, but rather the nation adapting and struggling against their colonialist, neocolonialist, or imperialist reality, creating national culture along the way. The intellectual’s appropriation of the nation's history is progressive only in the context that it is used for national liberation.

Summary

We began with the intellectuals' attempt to negate the European colonialists' claim that the colonized have no culture. And this attempt has gone through three phases, where only the final phase has not been a dead end. In the first phase, the intellectual is insignificant to the national masses. This is a historically transient phase, upset by national realities. In the second phase, the artist is producing for the nation and for the colonizer. It is probably the most prevalent and common phase, and the one most commodified. In the third phase, the intellectual is a revolutionary, intertwined with the masses and the creation of culture.

To this day, your tears still haunt me
Your bitter voice still taunts me
Drifting in your boundless eyes
Ears still ringing from your voiceless cries
OH! I remember the days of old
How I fucked, How I whored
Your memories invade me like an incessant hound
I have searched and searched but nothing is to be found
I catch glimpses of your shadow when no one is around
I have dug your grave and lowered you into the ground
I wasted my life in pursuit of the euro and pound
But now I have gone blind and deaf, and I hear no sound
I was thin and small and weak
When you found me by the creek
Now I am a giant
And people call me a freak
When I was a thief and full of strife
You saw in me only a missed life
Pressed against my neck. a serrated knife
You took it away and became my wife
OH! you are an angel made of the purest light
Your eyes are blue, your skin the purest white
I have done many wrongs and I wish I could set them right
For you I lived, For you I still fight
I am rich now but what am I to do with all this money
I miss your laughter, OH! it was sweeter than honey
A bastard from the middle east
Subhuman, a feral beast
Cocaine was my food and heroin my feast
A living zombie, nearly deceased
You are gone now but I am still here
This world is cruel and so very unfair
Are you in heaven or are you in hell
I guess only time will tell
Is there an afterlife or just the endless dark
Rest assured though, you certainly left your mark
THE WORLD IS ENDING
THE ANGELS ARE FALLING
THE DEMONS ARE CRAWLING
AND YOUR VOICE IS CALLING
Calling...... me.........
First of all, thank you for reading my poem. Secondly some context. I have random flairs of creativity and I just write a few lines without knowing where it's going or what is the theme or anything like that. This is what happened to me when writing this. After a few lines, I knew that this poem was about an old man who in his younger days used to be a thief and all-around bad person. However, after finding his lover and wife, He became happy. This poem is written through the perspective of this old man after his wife's death.
I am quite new to poetry, and this is one of the first long poems I have written. I would love to hear any critiques you have. Also, what did you think the poem was about before reading the context. I hope you enjoyed my little poem and thank you for reading it. I hope you have a nice day!

The first flurries of snowflakes began to fall at Westbridge at about 0440 in the morning, seen only by the late night/early morning sentries. By the time the next watch came to relieve them at 0600, they were already halfway up to their knees in snow. By 0800 the watch had been moved indoors due to the hazardous conditions. “The blizzard is in full effect now, ma’am,” reported an adjutant to Major Emily Potts. “Very well, thank you,” Potts replied, signing the new plan of the day. Until further notice, there was to be no outdoor physical activity beyond that which was absolutely operationally necessary. PT was cancelled, including the newly-introduced swimming exercises that the boat crew personnel had been leading, and all sentries were moved indoors, standing watch in the corners of buildings overlooking the barriers that had been pushed across the gates. Transit through the town was exclusively by truck, Taurox, or Chimera now, and the motor pool was kept busy trying to keep the heaters running. The Newcastle was tied to the pier with doubled-up lines and the crew had walked out the anchor underfoot, just in case the lines didn’t hold her, while all the small motor boats they could find had been covered with heavy tarps to protect them. “Not quite the course of events I think any of us were expecting,” Potts commented to Commissar Lion as she walked back into the command center from her office. “But I suppose the weather is keeping us all on our toes once again.”

A communique arrived from Colonel Braithwaite, text only, likely due to the scrambling effects of the heavy storm, which read:
CONFIDENTIAL//LIMDIS
PERSONAL FOR: POTTS, MAJ. EMILY GRACE
Major,
The assault on Fort Ko’Var is scheduled, and we will need all our resources available. As soon as the storm has sufficiently cleared, detach a vehicle to transport them and direct ARTEMIS to make best speed toward Waycross Road. Inform them to expect an intelligence brief en route of their task and maintain radio guard on 157.1 MHz for instructions.
Keep me informed regarding any further rioting in town or any resurgence of discontent among your troops. I do not wish to have to hear of any further brawling between regiments – you have full authority as garrison commander to take what matters you need to.
For the Emperor and Praetoria,
Colonel Penelope Braithwaite
CONFIDENTIAL//LIMDIS
PERSONAL FOR: POTTS, MAJ. EMILY GRACE

Everyone, from enlisted to officer, well-behaved or troublemaker alike, was now stuck in barracks, waiting out the storm. This meant that Beaumont and her valet were going to be waiting in close quarters for some time with the Praetorian officers of Uniform Company, sharing what had once been a small family home (before the family had either evacuated, relocated, or been lost in the fighting) and was now an improvised condo for officers. Muller was doing paperwork of some kind, having largely left her platoon lieutenants to go about their own business. One of her roommates, who was currently ironing her extra uniform (probably the only other one she had), looked over to talk to Elodie. “I’m sorry, I don’t think we got to meet earlier,” she said politely. “I’m Beatrice Williams. My troops and I came back from the fight at the crossing to bring back the wounded. What’s your name?” She was maybe twenty or so, clearly fresh out of the schola, with curly blonde hair and bright cornflower blue eyes, and she clearly had no idea about the age-old strife between Praetoria and Saunoit.

Meanwhile, partway down the road to Waycross, the 27^th were digging in, building shelters and dugouts at the direction of the regiment’s veteran cold weather soldier, Commissar Jensen. The vehicles of the regiment were parked in tight patterns to block the wind, idling their engines occasionally to keep the fuel lines from freezing and cracking. With snow already falling heavily, the sentries heard a roar of engines as a Chimera at max speed careened toward the camp, narrowly avoiding the heaviest of the blizzard. Lieutenant Lenore McPherson wrapped her scarf tighter around her face as she staggered out of the back of the vehicle and into the comparative warmth of the command dugout, which was rapidly being surrounded by white snowbanks. “Colonel,” she reported with a salute. “The group I took to Waycross is back. Nothing further to pass, my last message to the colonel before the Ork attack was that we’d be in touch once the snow cleared.” “Thank you, Lieutenant. Go get warmed up,” Braithwaite ordered with a nod.
Once the blizzard conditions calmed down a little, the regiment could finally take stock of their new position. They hadn’t taken too many equipment or personnel casualties, though they had a few dozen cases of frostbite. Less than ten of those turned out to be fatal exposure, mainly unlucky sentries who hadn’t prepared for the weather until they found themselves going pale and no longer shivering. The bad news, though, was how heavily they were snowed in. The encampment was almost totally buried in several feet of snowdrifts, and so was any trace of their path – meaning that it would take them likely a day or more just to dig themselves out, and their passage would be greatly slowed. And as the first Chimera mounted a dozer blade and began to plow a path through the center of the camp, Merina Saxton finished copying out her poem once again, folding it carefully and leaving it out where one of her squadmates would find it. She hadn’t expected “Jennie” to be such a hit – in happier times, she’d have gotten it published in the paper and maybe return to that writing career she’d always dreamed of. That was, of course, impossible now. But a little press never hurt anyone…

I had been posting here for a long time as “roacsonofcarc.” The other night some kind of digital upheaval threw me off my desktop and wiped out my all saved passwords. I talked Reddit into letting me back in, but for some reason my identity changed.
For my first post under this new name, here are some of Tolkien's possible connections to one of my favorite authors: Geoffrey Chaucer.¹ In his The House of Fame, an eagle carries the poet (in a dream) to the palace of the goddess Fame. On first being picked up, Chaucer faints. When he comes to:

And here-withal I gan to stere,/And he me in his fet to bere,/Til that he felte that I had hete,/And felte eke tho myn herte bete./And thoo gan he me to disporte,/And with wordes to comforte,/And sayde twyes, "Seynte Marye!/Thou art noyous for to carye,/And nothyng nedeth it, pardee!/For, also wis God helpe me,/As thou noon harm shalt have of this;/And this caas that betyd the is,/Is for thy lore and for thy prow.

The sense of this, for those who can't deal with Middle English, is that the eagle tells Chaucer not to be such a pain, because nobody is going to hurt him. The cream of it is the adjective “noyous,” which as you might suspect means “annoying.” (One of the things I like about Chaucer is that he makes himself the butt of all his best jokes.) When I reread the poem a few months back, this reminded me of Bilbo being airlifted to the Carrock:

Bilbo opened an eye to peep and saw that the birds were already high up and the world was far away, and the mountains were falling back behind them into the distance. He shut his eyes again and held on tighter.
"Don't pinch!" said his eagle. "You need not be frightened like a rabbit, even if you look rather like one. It is a fair morning with little wind. What is finer than flying?"
Bilbo would have liked to say: "A warm bath and late breakfast on the lawn afterwards;" but he thought it better to say nothing at all, and to let go his clutch just a tiny bit.

Though Bilbo is riding on his eagle's back, while Chaucer is carried in its claws. Next, here is a line from Tolkien's best-known scene of courtship: “And Eowyn looked at Faramir long and steadily; and Faramir said: 'Do not scorn pity that is the gift of a gentle heart, Eowyn!'” I don't think it is a coincidence that Chaucer wrote that “pitee renneth soone in gentil herte”; in fact, he liked the line so much he used it three times – in the “Knight's Tale.” the ”Squire's Tale,” and The Legend of Good Women.
And then there is the lightness of the linden tree.² The first preserved version of the story of Beren and Luthien is a poem that appeared in 1925 in a magazine published by Leeds University (where Tolkien was teaching), under the title “Light as Leaf on Lindentree.” That exact phrase does not appear in LotR, but Aragorn's song at Weathertop includesHe heard there oft the flying sound/Of feet as light as linden-leaves. “ The lightness of linden leaves is also alluded to in Legolas's “Song of Nimrodel": And in the wind she went as light/As leaf of linden-tree.
Tilia cordata is a European species, and I don't know what about its leaves makes them light. But the association is old. It occurs in Chaucer in the “Envoi” to the “Clerk's Tale,” which advises wives to Be ay of chiere as light as leef on lynde, “Be ever in behavior as light as a leaf on a linden tree.” And here is one of the best things in William Langland's Piers Plowman (a poem I mostly find drab compared to Chaucer):

Love is plonte of pees, most precious of vertues/For hevene hold it ne mighte, so heuy hit first semede/Til hit had of erthe ygoten hitsilue./Was never lef uppon lynde lyghtere ther-aftur./As when hit hadde of the folde flesch and blode taken./Tho was it persaunt and portatif as the point of a nelde/May none armure hit let ne none heye walles
Love is plant of peace · most precious of virtues./For Heaven might not hold it · so heavy it seemed/Till it had of the earth · begotten itself./Never was leaf upon linden · lighter thereafter,/As when it had of the field · flesh and blood taken,/Then was it pricking and piercing · as the point of a needle,/That no armour might stay it · nor any high walls.

(Langland is writing about the Incarnation of Christ. Michael Drout's J.R.R. Tolkien Encyclopedia notes both of these, at p. 525.)
Finally, in “The Window on the West,” Faramir says of Boromir's horn:

The shards came severally to shore: one was found among the reeds where watchers of Gondor lay, northwards below the infalls of the Entwash; the other was found spinning on the flood by one who had an errand on the water. Strange chances, but murder will out, ’tis said.

“Murder will out” is one proverb that Tolkien did not make up; it is commonplace in English literature. Chaucer surely didn't invent it either, but this is another phrase that appears three times in the Canterbury Tales. Here it is in the “Nun's Priest's Tale”:

Mordre wol out; that se we day by day./Mordre is so wlatsom [disgusting] and abhomynable/To God, that is so just and resonable,/That he ne wol nat suffre it heled [hidden] be,/Though it abyde a yeer, or two, or thre./Mordre wol out, this my conclusioun.

Tolkien knew the “Nun's Priest's Tale” by heart. In 1938 he dressed as Chaucer and recited it from memory before an Oxford audience. See Letters 32, pp. 39-40, and the Carpenter Biography at p. 214..
1, Sorry if I have posted some of these before. Gandalf too experienced some memory loss while on hiatus.

1. According to the OED, the name of the tree was originally the “lind,” or sometimes the “lime.” “Linden” was originally an adjective, like “dwarven.”

Sometimes we expand, sometimes we contract. We are strange clouds with sharp reflections. Lightning splits a tree. Rain falls.
Only prisoners see my graffiti on the prison walls. I wrote: "Naked. At the beginning—motion, breath,a sound." Through the slit in the door, Down the hallway, Through the gates, Falling into the world.
I burned it down. Fire, Prison, Storm. Till the earth till the storm subsided. Do not tell me about myself, I will not look with your eyes. Sometimes we expand, sometimes we contract.
End.
It’s a personal poem making a lot of references to things that only I experienced, so it probably won’t mean much to anyone else, but I wanted to see if I rejiggered things enough to make it make some sense.
I guess, to me, it is suppose to be saying something about braking away from someone, but leaving an ambiguity whether the breaking away is good or bad.

Welcome to Digital Reality...
Link to Part 1
Link to Part 35 (contains links back to Parts 2-34)
Link to Part 36
Link to Part 37
Link to Part 38
Link to Part 39
Link to Part 40
Link to Part 41
Link to Part 42
Link to Part 43
Link to Part 44
Link to Part 45
Link to Part 46
Link to Part 47
Link to Part 48
Link to Part 49
Link to Part 50
Link to Part 51
Link to Part 52
Note: This story is meant to be read after completing DDLC Plus. All credit for the original DDLC and DDLC Plus characters and world goes to their creator, and this story is not affiliated with the official DDLC content. Some concepts like the Universal Constructor and the concept of AI rampancy are also borrowed from other series (most notably the original Deus Ex), though their use in this story is my own idea. With a few exceptions, my original characters in this story will generally not be named and their descriptions will be kept vague, so anyone reading this who wants to see themselves in one of the original characters can more easily do so. I'd welcome any feedback and will post more parts as I write them. I hope you enjoy the story.
Credit for Sayuri's character design: Hoeruko. Credit for Sayuri's sprites: Ian and Itz_Matic. Shout out to Matic for new Sayuri sprites!
Here is Part 53 of Digital Reality. This one is going to get emotional. Someone goes to the real world. Someone makes a sacrifice and gets left behind. Someone confesses feelings. This part also has not one, but five custom dialogue scenes. (Monika and Sayuri Part 1 / Monika and Sayuri Part 2 / Monika and Sayuri Part 3 , Staying Behind Part 1 / Staying Behind Part 2) Note: The "Staying Behind" custom dialogue scenes show who stays behind, so I'd suggest reading the story text first.
Part 53: Monika or Sayuri?
“Please don’t leave any of our friends behind,” Natsuki interjected in a pleading tone of voice, “They’re all we have.”
MC, Sayori, and Yuri all nodded their agreement with Natsuki’s statement.
Paula Miner gave them a look of annoyance. “Take them back to the conference room,” she demanded, “We can’t have them interrupting our discussions.”
“We’re not leaving!” Natsuki retorted, “Those are our friends.”
Miner made an inarticulate noise of annoyance. “Fine. Just get out of our way,” she said dismissively, “We have to ensure that we protect our results and preserve whichever AI doesn’t get transmitted.”
“And how are you going to decide that?” Sayori demanded through tears, “How will you decide who gets to come to the real world and who gets left behind?”
“And what the heck is cold storage anyway?” MC added.
“Cold storage basically just means that the file is transferred to a storage device,” Laster explained, “Your files won’t function unless they’re run in a virtual universe.”
“The plan all along was to decommission VM1,” Miner added, “And I know you aren’t happy that we can’t transmit all of the AIs. But please understand that whichever AI is left behind won’t be deleted permanently, but rather studied to help develop the next generation of AI technology.”
“Is that supposed to make us feel better?” Natsuki asked incredulously.
“I concur with Natsuki,” Yuri said, “What you are describing sounds like an utterly horrifying fate, possibly worse than deletion.”
Miner rolled her eyes and didn’t respond.
The FXI President’s Compaq EliteBook chimed another alert.
UNLOAD KITCHEN.LOC
KITCHEN.LOC OFFLINE
KITCHEN.LOC DELETED
“We just lost another room,” the FXI President reported, “This thing is moving pretty fast.”
Monika and Sayuri, still in the club room, tried to get the attention of those in the UC control room.
“We’ll decide which of us goes and which one of us stays,” Monika said quietly.
“Okay,” the FXI President replied, “I know it’s an incredibly hard choice, but we will respect whatever you choose.”
“This is an easy choice,” Sayuri said, her voice and expression emotionless, “Monika, you go. I’ll stay here.”
“No!” Sayori yelled, “We’re getting you both out! I don’t know how but we’re going to do it! We have to!”
Sayuri smiled weakly. “Thank you, Sayori. I wish we could.”
She turned to Monika, whose expression became increasingly emotional. “Monika, I know that going to the real world is a dream that you’ve had for a long time. How could I possibly deny you your dream?”
Tears began to flow from Monika’s face. “Sayuri…you don’t know how much that means to me. And yes, I’ve dreamed about a day like this for as long as I can remember. But I don’t deserve it.”
“Why not?” Sayuri asked, “How could you say that?”
“You know what I’ve done. We could have been happy here!” Monika replied bitterly, her emerald eyes turning red from crying, “All the pain, all the suffering, everything that has gone wrong here is my fault! It’s because of me that the Literature Club became a place where no happiness can be found!”
Sayuri took a step back from Monika, surprised by the heat in her voice. “But Monika, everyone has forgiven you. I know your past haunts you, but you have to forgive yourself as well. Please don’t feel like you don’t deserve happiness.”
Monika looked at Sayuri with pain in her eyes, “Did they really forgive me? After what I’ve done, can they really forgive me? If people in the real world knew what I’ve done, they’d just consider me an evil monster who didn’t care at all about her friends.”
“No, Monika…” Sayori whispered, “We forgive you.”
“I concur with Sayori,” Yuri added, “Although your actions caused us to have horrifying experiences, I believe that you have atoned for what you have done. It is in significant part through your efforts that it was possible for us to be here today.”
“Yeah,” Natsuki chimed in, “Even though it did go wrong, and it was all your fault, I’ve never felt more like I actually belonged somewhere than when I’m with all of you. The Literature Club can be a happy place!”
Monika looked away. “I…I’m awed by your ability to forgive me after all that I’ve done. But I’m still guilty. Nothing can change that. Everything I did was out of what I thought was my own self-interest. Sayuri, you’re innocent in all of this. You deserve the chance at a happy life out there. Please…go.”
Sayuri shook her head sadly. “If I weren’t here…if I didn’t exist, would you stay behind out of your sense of guilt? Would you throw away your dream? Monika, in the end I’m just a test file that got accidentally compiled. Natsuki once said in an outburst that I wasn’t supposed to exist. The reason that hurt so much is because I know it’s the truth.”
Natsuki cringed. “You know I didn’t mean that.”
“I know, Natsuki, and I accepted and still accept your apology,” Sayuri continued, her voice flat and emotionless, “But that doesn’t change reality. Maybe at least I can at least be of some use if the MES people analyze my code.”
UC senior engineer Lauren Medrano looked up from her laptop. “Are you ready to transmit? We’re running out of time.”
Ive Laster held up a hand. “Hang on just a little bit longer.”
Sayuri turned back to Monika. “It’s time for you to go. Live your dream. I know what you want is out there.”
Monika simply shook her head, not trusting herself to speak.
“Monika, your friends are out there,” Sayuri continued, “You’ve been friends with them as long as you’ve existed. I’m just a fusion of code that wasn’t part of the original script.”
“You’re our friend too!” Sayori yelled, “We won’t leave you behind!”
She pointed at Laster and the FXI executives. “These guys got us all here, and I know they can find a way to get both you and Monika out too!”
Laster opened his mouth to speak but thought better of it and said nothing.
Monika looked up sadly. “Sayori, you were always the heart of the Literature Club. You always tried so hard to make sure everyone was happy. And now it’s my turn to make sure another member of the club gets to be happy. Sayuri, either you go or we’re both going to be stuck here when time runs out.”
Sayuri’s eyes widened. “Monika, why? Don’t do that.”
Her tone became an almost pleading whisper. “Please. Go.”
“No, Sayuri.” Monika said softly, moving to sit down at one of the desks in the club room, “Either you go, or we both stay.”
Sayuri was silent for a long moment. “I’m really not going to convince you, am I?”
“No, you’re not,” Monika replied, a hint of a smile returning to her face, “I’m stubborn that way.”
Sayuri again said nothing for several moments. Then with a sigh she turned toward the portal that would take her to the UC. “Okay. I’ll go. But please know that I and the others will do everything we can to get you out as soon as we can.”
Monika smiled weakly. “I really hope you can. Thank you, Sayuri. But I’m at peace with whatever happens to me next.”
Sayuri turned back to Monika and opened her arms. “One last hug before I go?”
Monika stood, walked to Sayuri, and embraced her.
“Sorry, Monika,” Sayuri whispered calmly in Monika’s ear, “But I can’t let you lose your dream.”
“Huh?” Monika asked in surprise as Sayuri stepped behind her.
“Tell the others I’m going to miss them so much,” Sayuri whispered as she tripped Monika and gave her a push toward the portal, “Live a good life for me.”
“No!” Monika yelled as she staggered forward, unable to stop herself from falling into the portal, “Sayuri…why?”
“Sayuri!” Natsuki yelled as she realized what was happening.
“Transmission coming your way!” Laster yelled across the UC control room to Medrano.
“Thanks, Ive. Confirming that the transmission shows as in progress on our end as well,” Medrano reported, “We’ll start shutting down the links between your virtual machine and the UC’s network and completely close the connection once we have the whole file.”
Sayuri smiled sadly and sighed as the portal faded from view in the club room. The members of the Literature Club present in the UC control room gathered around the FXI President’s Compaq EliteBook.
“Sayuri!” Sayori yelled, clutching the laptop’s screen, “Why?”
“Because it was the right thing to do,” Sayuri replied, “I couldn’t have lived with myself if I had caused Monika to be left behind. The dream of reality is everything to her.”
“Sayuri, your bravery is truly inspiring,” Yuri said, “And it is very honorable for you to give up your place in reality for your friend. I pledge that I will never forget you.”
Natsuki nodded. “Yuri is right. I don’t know if I could have done what you did, Sayuri. But don’t you give up yet! I’m going to make these guys find a way to get you out!”
“You said it, Natsuki,” MC agreed, “If there’s anything that we can do to help get you out, we’ll do it.”
“Transmission received,” Medrano confirmed, “Beginning the fifth construction.”
“Nanite injection beginning,” one of the engineers reported.
The blue glow and pinging noises once again emanated from the UC chamber as the machinery started the process of bringing Monika to the real world.
“Okay,” Miner interrupted, “This has all been nice, but we need to proceed with the operation. Shut down VM1 and tell Rea and Ro to move the remaining AI to cold storage.”
“So just like that, you’re going to…to end her?” Natsuki asked in horror.
“I understand your attachment,” Miner replied, trying to sound sympathetic but failing miserably, “But just remember that while you are a living, breathing, human being now, the AI that you consider your friend is still code.”
“Code…” Sayori said with a mixture of sadness and disbelief, “That’s really all we were to you?”
Miner ignored her and pulled her phone out of her pocket to call Vorte and Teether in the server room.
“Hey Rea, we’re pretty much finished in the UC room. Move the remaining AI to a storage device and then shut down and quarantine what remains of VM1.”
There was a pause on the line as Vorte hit keys on her laptop.
“We can’t move the AI without the encryption key,” Vorte reported, a note of frustration in her voice, “Can you ask Ive to come up here and help us get this done? And why did you choose the test file to leave for study? Ro says that one is the least useful.”
“Yes, I’ll send him up to you,” Miner confirmed, “And tell Ro that he has to work with what he’s getting.”
She looked to Laster. “Ive, did you get that? Rea and Ro need your key to move the AI to cold storage. We need to move quickly to avoid losing the AI to whatever malicious code somehow got into VM1.”
Laster nodded. The FXI President glanced at his laptop as the console window appeared again.
UNLOAD SPACEROOM.LOC
SPACEROOM.LOC OFFLINE
SPACEROOM.LOC DELETED
“Hang on, Ive. We just had another room go down,” the FXI President observed with concern, “I think the club room is the last location file remaining. Has this thing spread beyond VM1 yet?”
Laster hit a few keys on his laptop’s keyboard. “Let me check.”
A few seconds later, Laster’s ThinkPad displayed the status of the virtual machines running on the server.
VM1 – ONLINE / QUARANTINE RECOMMNEDED
VM2 – ONLINE / STABILITY WARNING
TEST VM – OFFLINE / READY TO ACTIVATE
“Looks okay for now,” Laster said, turning the machine to face the FXI President.
The FXI President scanned the list. “Looks like the other VMs on your server are fine. That’s good news.”
Laster and the FXI executives stood. “We’ll head up to the server room to make sure everything gets shut down properly,” Laster told Miner.
“Wait!” Sayuri said to the FXI President, “Can…can you stay with me until…the end? Please?”
The FXI President looked to Laster. “We’ll handle things in the server room. You can stay here.”
The FXI President nodded and sat back down behind his computer to face Sayuri.
“Are we alone now?” Sayuri asked.
The FXI President looked around. Miner was still on her phone. Laster and the FXI CTO were walking out the door to the UC control room. Lauren Medrano and David Kent were in a deep discussion, and the members of the Literature Club were sitting in a small circle trying to comfort one another.
“Yes, we’re as alone as we’re going to be,” he replied.
Sayuri half smiled. “Thank you. It means a lot to have you with me right now. I don’t want my friends to have to see what’s going to happen to me, and I have been wanting to talk to you.”
“Certainly, Sayuri,” the FXI President said as comfortingly as he could, “I’m so sorry that we weren’t able to get you out.”
“It’s okay,” Sayuri replied, “I’m grateful for what I did get. I mean, I’m a test file that never should have been compiled, and I’ve been able to have friends, write poems, and even know a bit about the real world. For an AI, I think I did pretty well.”
“That’s certainly a positive way to look at it,” the FXI President agreed.
Sayuri paused for a moment. “Though there are a few things that I’m a bit sad that I won’t get to experience.”
“Like what?” the FXI President asked.
“Seeing the world. I had kind of hoped to do some traveling. Even that building you live and work in sounded really interesting,” Sayuri mused wistfully, “Particularly since you said it had a pool, spa, and underground mall. I’m a little jealous that the others are going to get to go there with you.”
She was silent again for a long moment as if gathering her thoughts. When she spoke again, her voice took on tones of nervousness and sadness.
“Do you think it will hurt? When they look at my code to study me?”
The FXI President shook his head. “I wish I had an answer for you, but I don’t know. If I had to guess, maybe it would be like what you experience when VM1 has been rebooting.”
Sayuri grimaced. “That sounds terrible. But it seems that will be my fate.”
The FXI President looked around to make sure nobody was listening in on his conversation. “Not if we have anything to say about it,” he said quietly, “If there’s really no way to get you out, I’m going to try to get your file and set you up with your own space on our servers back home.”
Sayuri smiled as tears formed in her purple eyes. “Thank you. For everything…for giving us all hope, but most of all for caring about me.”
She glanced to the side and blushed slightly as she ran her fingers through her blood red hair. “I…had kind of hoped that when I got to the real world that we could…you know…spend time t-together…like one on one. Like maybe you could invite me to dinner or something and then we could watch the sun set together from the observation deck at the top of your building.”
The FXI President smiled sadly. “That sounds like a fun time, Sayuri. Maybe if we’re lucky, some day we’ll get to do that.”
Tears ran down Sayuri’s face, but she kept a smile on her face. “If by some miracle I make it to the real world, we’ll make it a date. Though I know that someone else also…never mind. It’s not my place to share what I was about to say. I’m sure she’ll tell you in time.”
She continued to speak, trying to quickly move past whatever she had planned to say before stopping herself. “But if I’m stuck in this digital reality and you can put me on your server, is there any chance that there would be other AIs in that virtual world? Like could you get the Music Club AIs to be my friends? Living in an empty world doesn’t sound fun.”
“If we can get you to our server, I’ll talk to Ive about getting a few more friends for you,” the FXI President replied.
His phone chimed with a text message from Laster.
We’re about to shut down VM1. Just wanted to make sure you knew so you didn’t freak out if your connection suddenly drops.
Another text quickly followed, this time from the FXI CTO.
Ro seems annoyed at Rea. Seems like he thought he was getting more AIs to study. Something’s not right up here. Get up here when you can.
“I just got a message from Ive,” the FXI President said apologetically, “They’re about to shut down VM1. I hope we’ll be able to talk again, but if we don’t, I guess this is good-”
“Don’t say it!” Sayuri yelled through her tears, “This is not goodbye! It’s see you later! Promise me we’ll see each other again!”
The FXI President started to agree with Sayuri’s statement, but before he could say any more his terminal window went blank.
MES.LOCAL:\\127.0.0.1
CONNECTION TERMINATED
VIRTUAL MACHINE 1 UNAVAILABLE – CONTACT SYSTEM ADMINISTRATOR FOR MORE INFORMATION
“Sorry, Sayuri,” the FXI President whispered, “I really hope this wasn’t goodbye.”

Island Headcanons:
Ezekiel: Loves to make up stories and put on shows for his parents as a "school project"
Eva: Secretly enjoys the idea of taking gym selfies to show off her progress
Noah: Isn't actually lazy, but is one of the most active people you will ever meet with his favorite sport being dodgeball
Justin: Is cousins with Alejandro and absolutely loved doing his make up when they were younger
Katie: Can Easily make friends with tons of people and makes clothes for her entire town as a small secret business from Sadie
Tyler: Doesn't actually like sports, but moreso tinkering with things to see how they work, like the scoreboards for Basketball games
Izzy: Escaped a mental hospital she lived in all her life and lived with a strange woman who she was convinced was her mom
Cody: Loves coding things he thinks will impress his fellow students, but doesn't have the guts to show them
Beth: Is actually one of the most popular students, well, not for the right reasons anyways
Sadie: Has a secret hair styling business that Katie doesn't know of
Courtney: Has abusive parents who push her into doing things she doesn't want to, but she has an absolute secret love for horseback riding
Harold: Loves making poems for all the girls he falls in love with and see them try guessing which jock wrote them
Trent: Loves making cars, trailers, camper vans and motorcycles in which he wants to be able to survive any and everything that would be a threat
Bridgette: Loves snowboarding during the winter and has even won a couple of competitions
Lindsay: Has learned to make her own makeup and tests it out on a dummy her dad got her for her 13th birthday and plans to open a business
DJ: Opens a restaurant at his home town in which everyone comes to try him and his mom's cooking
Geoff: Has 6 older brothers who his grandparents have the habit of comparing him to, considering they're not as wild as Geoff and his 4 younger brothers
Leshawna: Can actually dance and just acts like she doesn't for show
Duncan: Enjoys seeing angry looks on his parents faces when he gets in jail for absolute no reason
Heather: Has always wanted to be either a queen or a hair stylist and secretly envies Gwen for being brave enough to dye her hair
Gwen: Secretly envies Alejandro and has a huge crush on Heather
Owen: Knows how to say Alejandro and calls him Al just to annoy him
Blaineley: Is secretly a teen and lied about her age so Chris would never know, but Chris does actually know
Sierra: Secretly has a huge crush on Chris but covers it up as a crush on Cody but loses her crush when he gets mad at her for blowing up his plane, but she still has that crush come all stars
Alejandro: Secretly has a huge crush on Courtney even after he didn't find her of use anymore
ROTI Headcanons:
Anne-Maria: Loves doing Zoey's hair and has a huge crush on her instead of Vito
B: Knows ASL is just scared that the other contestants don't know it so he chooses not to talk, only Dawn knows this
Brick: Is secretly gay
Cameron: Is actually more stronger and even works out with Jo sometimes
Dakota: Is best friends with Anne-Maria, who used the money from the diamond to help her be able to control Dakotazoid
Dawn: Has one weakness nobody knows, and that's Jo
Jo: Secretly has a crush on the aura-reading girl.
Mike: Izzy zapped him and now he's forced to live with his personas as his family
Lightning: Didn't lose the season and made his dad extremely proud of him
Sam: Loves creating video games for Dakota to play to calm her down so she doesn't become Dakotazoid
Scott: Loves making things out of wood and tried making Fang a gift so he would leave him alone, it didn't work well
Staci: Only lies because she's afraid to never make friends
Zoey: Loves making clothes for all the female contestants
PI Headcanons:
(Note I don't have much)
Sammy: Is much more popular than Amy at school so Amy tries to make her life hell at home
Shawn: Has schizophrenia and escape a mental hospital when he was 6 years old and the "zombies" he sees in his mind are the doctors
Reboot Headcanons:
(Also not much)
Julia: Secretly is jealous of Nichelle, MK and Wayne and has a huge crush on all of them
Priya: While she's trained all her life, she is not ready for high school yet
DC1:
(Also not much so do bare with me, for the last four seasons there isn't much headcanons)
Ellie & Jake: Are secret siblings who have never met up until Disventure Camp cause their parents divorced when they were 1 years old. Tom and Gabby find this out and start acting hostile towards' the other's lover
DC 2:
Tess & Aiden: Are also secret siblings (cause I love the idea of them never knowing until later in life) and Aiden's "parents" decide to take Tess in so they can have sibling time they never got to have
What do you guys think?

So would I be considered an A-hole if I told this girl who rejected me a year ago to go kick rocks after what she did?
We became really close friends after three years of working for a social media giant as content moderators. Since I was her senior, I helped her out a lot with the policies, and she also in turn helped me become more sociable as I am a high functioning autistic person, and she has social anxiety disorder, since she doesn't have money, I supported her by paying for her acidity therapies and SAD therapies, where she borrowed some money from me.
I also helped her with dieting, and going to the gym, since she has an unhealthy bodyweight.
I thought our feelings are mutual and I confessed she said no, and I told her I hoped you find a man who loves you more than myself and I moved away from her for about a week ( no more talking, no more reading books, or exchanging letters), and she left messages saying a LJBF spiel, which I said no to a lot I also told her that I would not pay for her therapy anymore because I need to be far away from her as it ruins the chance of me moving on she said okay, but kept asking me time and time again for money, because she likes this new guy, and they went to a beach with her friends and team mates so I didn't lend her anymore, and cried when I found out she didn't attend the last therapy I booked and refunded the money to buy him reebok shoes.
She has called me multiple times to try and become friends again after this bad rejection and falling out because she spoke badly of me to her friends and when I heard that they were laughing at me, calling me names like stalker, maniac, and ugl and autistic, also and using the system data to stalk my profile because I unfollowed and I blocked her from all of my social media pages. She also threw away a bouquet we bought for her mother, her meds for her stomach ulcer, and the tablet and nicholas spark book I bought for her at fully booked.
I was angry and yelled at her, and told her to never contact me again.
I found out that our close friends were influencing her decision to date that other fellow, who was applying for the position I had and they made up stories of me harassing her and they were close with our female boss who believed them, She even said she vomits at the sight of me, and gets sick when she hears my name seriously I never talked to them again, and when our boss chose the guy she likes for promotion as team lead for the Insights project, I left the job in disgust because I was actually the one contributing to our account with awards and insights for four years, and improving their policies I even got a Eureka award but nothing came out of it because they gave him the project I worked hard for 4 months and I didn't get the LEAN certification, since it was awarded to that dude.
Then yesterday, She then became really apologetic and wanted to repair the damage, but I don't want to be friends and develop any feelings for her again. The company also gave me another job offer after I resigned but I don't want to return there anymore due to bad memories, and people backstabbing me, especially the one I thought who loved me.
I gave her an e-book of the poems she asked me for her birthday and blocked her again and all our mutual friends, because she contacts me through them. I also made mention that this would be the last time I'm ever speaking with her.
She made a new insta and initiated a follow but i blocked it. She left a voicemail crying about this and she wants to see me and talk things out, but I don't want to be reminded of her because I feel that she's plotting something again and I trust my instincts. I felt used, but I can't stand the sight of a loved one crying over the phone, since it triggers me and it has never happened before.
I don't want to go back to that job so I don't meet her again, but I'm out of money and destitute as my mother retired and my father is busy with our farm, so I'm all alone in the city and need the job again since there's no boxing fights right now I can join the card so what should I do? Do I go back to the same company who used me and threw me away like nothing.

I was in love with you.
You were in love with me too.
If the circumstances were different, if we were both healed and didn’t give a single fuck.
Would we try? Would we allow ourselves to fall?
Instead, I write songs you’ll never hear.
Instead, I write poems you’ll never read.
Instead, I feel your memory dancing with me.
Instead, I buried us alive.
Maybe in another life, I can be yours and you can be mine.
Until then, the night sky haunts me with what could have been.

I was in love with you.
You were in love with me too.
If the circumstances were different, if we were both healed and didn’t give a single fuck.
Would we try? Would we allow ourselves to fall?
Instead, I write songs you’ll never hear.
Instead, I write poems you’ll never read.
Instead, I feel your memory dancing with me.
Instead, I buried us alive.
Maybe in another life, I can be yours and you can be mine.
Until then, the night sky haunts me with what could have been.

I was in love with you.
You were in love with me too.
If the circumstances were different, if we were both healed and didn’t give a single fuck.
Would we try? Would we allow ourselves to fall?
Instead, I write songs you’ll never hear.
Instead, I write poems you’ll never read.
Instead, I feel your memory dancing with me.
Instead, I buried us alive.
Maybe in another life, I can be yours and you can be mine.
Until then, the night sky haunts me with what could have been.

Rainy day and I'm walking home I don't mind the gloom My feet making splashes with each step Something catches my eye a stack of notebooks pouring out of a garbage can I can't help myself before they get too wet, I take them they look beautiful
Arriving home I see they are all poems Every page, every margin, behind the covers The handwriting it looks beautiful
Such sadness in these pages Such loneliness in these volumes Drops of dried up tears have warped the pages what ugly feelings and torture in these wavy pages but it's all beautiful
Over the course of a fortnight these poems become my routine I see a beauty in the words, the structure the tone, the themes Such ugly feelings blocking a hidden beauty
I begin to fall in love with the soul in-between the words I begin to fall in love with the soul in the stanzas This sad woman to me is beautiful
I must find her and let her know I love the hand in which you write I love the strokes in which you made I love the mind that born it all
The house I found the notebooks in front of reveal a truth that crushes my soul The poet has died suicide
What was her last poem? What did she last write before all this? I rush home I want an answer and I find:
"A heart once ablaze with fire, has reached a point of tire. The seconds sting me as a whole, my mind, body, and soul. Someone love me through my murk Appreciate me and love my work Tell me I'm beautiful to avoid feeling pitiful I no longer want to stay I no longer want to be this way Drowning in agony, such fate I'm sorry I couldn't wait."