I don’t even know how to start this post, there’s so much to unpack. I’ll try to be brief, though.
One day, he tried to murder us and ended up paraplegic and blind because I reacted before he could kill me. That’s not really relevant, but he spent three months on ICA and I had more time to process all that happened.
He was clearly a psychotic person, had several untreated mental disorders. What I’m going to mention are only external observations and he never mentioned he was haunted, he thought he was blessed and chosen by God.
When he was home, the house would be cold, at least 5-10°C lower than outside the house and no, the house didn’t have heating systems or was built in a particular way that could make this happen because THE MOMENT he was out the door, it would go back to the normal temperature.
When he was home, the house would get dark as if it was night and I am not exaggerating, this was noticed by all of my friends and boyfriend. EVERYONE commented about this. And again, the moment he left, it would be back to normal.
Food rotted faster than normal, lights would go on and off, weird sounds and doors closing, feeling of being watched, even shadow people running around, strong smell of rotten eggs and illness, nightmares every night... I could go on forever about everything that happened there but as I said, it stopped the moment he wasn’t in the house. When he went to ICA, it looked like a fairy tale home. I’m not kidding.
He would carry this energy every place he went to, all of his stuff had this dense energy and weird things would happen if you got one of his things and brought to your room, for example.
After all this happened, I moved away and never went back to that house (he is in hospice care), so I don’t know if the house still haunted or not.
I would like to ask people here if they have had a similar experience or if they could explain me what was happening to him. As I said, he was obviously mentally ill, but those things were out of his control and more than four people noticed this. It’s not an exaggeration. What was happening there?

Just my luck that I end a 45-day trip to Japan, my first ever out of the US, on such a horrible note.
My current hotel in Tokyo is the last (and longest) stay of my trip. Booking it was a bit last minute as I am a bike tourist, and didn't know exactly when I'd finish. That, paired with expense concerns, lead me to book a hotel on the lower side of quality. Stay still ended up being over two grand (18 night stay).
I had already been all over Japan at this point, and all the hotels, no matter how cheap, have been beyond serviceable. That's why I didn't critically use caution. None of the reviews, not even recent ones, mention anything about bedbugs. Cleaning issues: Yes. But nothing on bugs. Half the reviews are positive ones anyways.
I've been in this hotel for twelve nights now. There have been zero issues until last night and tonight. I'm suddenly being chewed up on my arms and hands exclusively. No visual bug sighting, but tell-tale smear marks on bed. I at first thoughts bites were mosquito related, but the number is high and matching classic BB description.
Frankly, I can't afford to bring anything home. I live with three people, with a whole second floor to our place housing another family. We are renters. Two of my housemates, my sister and her fiance, have a ton of stuff that would be extremely difficult to declutter. My sister would over stress and breakdown at just the thought of bugs. Likewise, I was supposed to stay at a friend's before returning home after I flew into LA (will book a hotel now). Not to mention all the car transfers. Tons of logistics and people I'm supposed to come into contact with. MUST do so, in some cases. None of which I want to involve in a nightmare.
Basically, I am willing to leave everything behind. That, in fact, is my plan. I know BBs are tiny and insanely good at hiding, but I can't think of anything else to do. I can't treat my stuff. I have around 4k worth of biking equipment with me, including my bike, all of which has sat in my hotel room this entire time. I'm planning to ditch all of it alongside my clothes. The only things I wish to keep is the souvenirs and gifts I bought, which I'm hoping I can thoroughly inspect and get away with. I have some electronics, which I can ditch too but there has to come a limit.
I simply don't know what other options I have. If my suspicions are true, I'd be impossible for me not to spread them with my stuff. As for my remaining week in Japan: I don't know exactly what to do there either. Hotel is paid for, and I can't afford to switch hotels now. I've been here long enough that it's too late. Outside of being a buffet at night and losing QOL temporarily, I don't see any reason to not finish out my paid for nights as insane as that sounds. Especially since I'd be a vector to harm a clean hotel. I do wonder if there are authorities I may want to report this to outside of the hotel itself. No visual confirmation of a BB leaves room for something else, but I don't really want to go searching around for bugs in my bed.

I watched the ghost video in the living room, and my mom just so happened to sit next to me doing her own thing
Then he got to the "maybe pee" part of the video, where he finds a wet spot on the floor And apparently my mom found it hilarious, and laughed out loud (which isn't common!)
So im just really happy now, and maybe she'll agree to watch him with me sometimes

I signed my family up with Fi in December. New Phones and Watches were a hit for Christmas, but 4 months later my son's phone just went on EMERGENCY CALLS ONLY. It has been 4 weeks and the customer service is frustrating to say the least. They had us reinstall the Fi App, upgrade the phone OS, send them bugs via a complicated process for which their instructions are not for the phone model we bought from them and still, my son's phone only works when on wifi. His watch works for calls, but the phone is now just an expensive gaming device. I suggested they just send us a new phone, but the customer service team keep escalating to engineering who just emails us every few days stating how hard they're working on our valuable case, but make no progress. They state signal issues for my area, but my wife's phone works fine. Their customer service seems to be designed to minimize cost to them instead of retaining customers. Works great when it works, but you're better off switching to another provider than dealing with their customer "support".

In the small, cloistered town of Ashbrook, shadows loomed over the life of a boy named Damien. His family had been shattered by a scandal that left deep scars on everyone involved. His mother, Claire, had been unfaithful, a betrayal that tore apart the fragile fabric of their family. Damien’s father, unable to bear the pain, packed his bags and left, marrying another woman and starting anew. Damien and his older sister, Emily, were left behind with their mother, struggling to piece together their broken lives.
Weekends with their father were supposed to be a refuge, but they quickly turned into a painful reminder of their fractured family. At first, these visits were filled with an awkward semblance of normalcy. Over time, however, Damien’s father grew more attached to his new family, his new children, while the bond with his firstborns withered. Damien watched his father drift away, the warmth in his eyes now reserved for his new life, leaving Damien feeling abandoned and alone.
The town of Ashbrook was unforgiving. People chose sides, and it seemed everyone had turned their backs on Claire and her children. Even Claire’s own family, except for her father, shunned them. Damien’s grandfather, ashamed and disappointed, sent money every month, but it came with a heavy sense of judgment. This monthly lifeline did little to ease the burden, and Damien felt no connection to the man who had indirectly rejected them.
Damien’s resentment festered. He hated the pitiful glances from townsfolk, the hushed whispers that ceased when he entered a room. Most of all, he hated his mother. Claire’s unyielding kindness and affection only deepened his bitterness. She tried to act as though nothing had happened, as though their lives hadn’t been torn apart by her actions.
“Damien, you need to understand how hard it’s been,” Claire would say, her voice cracking under the weight of unshed tears. “I’ve raised you and Emily on my own. You should be grateful.”
Grateful. The word felt like poison in Damien’s veins. How could he be grateful for a life built on lies and betrayal? He remembered the nights lying awake, listening to his mother sobbing in the next room, wishing for a life that could never be. His father's departure was a wound that never healed, a painful reminder of all they had lost.
But it wasn’t just the past that tormented Damien. It was the present, too. He often overheard his mother chatting on the phone with random men, her voice flirtatious and carefree. How could she even dare? Didn’t she know her children could hear her? It was disgusting. She was stupid.
Yet Claire acted like the hero after Dad left, pretending she didn’t want to speak ill of him while doing just that, subtly undermining him in every conversation. “Your father chose to leave us,” she’d say, voice tinged with bitterness. “He moved on so easily, started a new family like we meant nothing.”
“Don’t you see, Mom?” Damien spat one evening, his voice trembling with rage. “You destroyed everything. You talk about raising us alone like it’s some badge of honor, but it’s your fault we’re alone. It’s your fault Dad left.”
Claire’s face fell, the color draining from her cheeks. She opened her mouth to speak but found no words to counter the bitter truth in her son’s eyes. The silence between them grew heavy, filled with years of unresolved anger and hurt.
Emily, always the peacemaker, tried to bridge the chasm between her brother and their mother, but even she was growing weary. The weight of their fractured family was too much for her small shoulders to bear.
Damien sought refuge in his room, a sanctuary from the chaos that was his home. Books and music became his escape, worlds where he could lose himself and forget the mess his life had become. But even in those moments of respite, the anger simmered beneath the surface, threatening to consume him.
Damien's hatred for his mother and the situation she had created festered, growing with each passing day. He longed for the strength to leave Ashbrook, to escape the suffocating grip of his past. But he couldn’t abandon Emily, not while she still needed him.
One day, as the weight of his anger threatened to overwhelm him, Damien stood at the edge of the town's small, serene lake. The reflection in the water showed a boy aged beyond his years, burdened by a life he hadn’t chosen. He picked up a stone and hurled it into the water, watching the ripples spread out in ever-widening circles.
“Maybe one day,” he whispered to the empty air, “I’ll find a way out of this. But for now, I’m stuck. Stuck with the memories, the hatred, and the life you destroyed, Mom.”
As he turned to leave, the sun setting behind him, Damien knew that the road ahead would be long and hard. But in the depths of his anger, a small spark of determination flickered. He would survive this. He would rise above the ashes of his broken family, no matter how deep the scars ran.
Yet, the darkness in his heart grew. Damien started to become something else. Not a villain, not a perpetrator of evil deeds, but a boy harboring a darkness that clouded his view of the world. He saw humanity for what it was: flawed, deceitful, and hypocritical. In his mind, he was becoming evil, but it wasn't by choice. The world had shaped him this way. His intelligence told him he wasn't inherently bad, but circumstances had painted his soul with shadows.
He began to embrace the darkness within, letting it fuel his determination. The world wasn't beautiful in his eyes; it was a battlefield, and he would navigate it with the cunning and resilience of someone who knew its true face. Damien hated humans, he hated their frailty and deceit, but he knew he could outsmart them. In the end, it was the world that had made him hate it, and he would use that hatred to carve out his path.
Damien wasn't lost. He was simply finding a new way, a way defined by the darkness that the world had thrust upon him. He would survive, and he would thrive, but he would do it on his terms, with a heart that no longer saw the light.
Note: i played with some aspects to the people who know don't come across it... or you know what if they do.. i do not care.
What do you think about my life?
_______________________________________________________________________
Also... here is my "Life Philosophy" in short because it will take a lot of time if i wanted to fully express it.
I despise everything.
Compelled by "GOD" into an ugly world where beauty is marred by desires.
I... once a pure soul... exiled from the grace of nothingness, tarnished by the world's filth.

I'm looking for recommendations on tree trimmers and arborists that service Nicholasville. We bought a house with a large tree in the front and the branches are touching the room. We need to have it trimmed before it damages the shingles. I also want to see how healthy the tree is, so we will need an arborist too.

Soo random people on the internet who i feel more comfortable talking to than people i know irl.
Idk what im doing here, i want to just keep it all inside and not tell anyone i know for months
Thinking of moving out to the mountains by a lake
Hopefully i can find a puppy to adopt it has to be another pitty shepherd mix that looks like my loving V.. gunna miss her the most (sorry cats, you peed on my shoes too many times)
Worried she wont land on her feet, earning min wage aint enough to survive in coastal cali with three pets.. i offered to keep em but she wants to end us and keep everything easy and stable for herself, cant keep staying at my families disocunted rental though anyway... idk she never was one for planning, methodical logical decisions. Things were always 0 to 100, raw psyco eyes that beemed a true love a smarter peraon i believe is not capable of irationally feeling. She had a fucked up childhood, mine was so easy it made me soft
There it is thats why i type stuff n delete it online, a little window to smell my shit as the typhoon blows my shart back in the curtains, let this dookie rain run over my face
Dang holup lemme be obtuse and narsisstic and justified she was also a bitch who yelled alot Slapped n shoved commonly Easily irratated Only wanted to watch her stupid crime shows Not interested to discuss anything intellectual Relatively low iq, no financial literacy, cant cook, thinks she cleans and took all the credit but actually barely helped out and made a majority of the mess and clutter, bedroom with her closets always a mess and living room full of random crap she was 'working' on Also crackhead genetics, probably some alchohol poisining fetal related anger issues, only fucked like twice a week, really juicy top teir twoot with perfect tits great ass toigyt whoite twoot, but 5/10 face, always cut hair too short to let me lassoo her real good, but she never learned to ride good too lazy and unempathetic, loyal and trustworthy, would of been good mother to children, except for yelling at me over nearly nothing would of been bad mother trait, not logical, cant plan for future objectives without high emotion impeding , both wanted rural living but stuck in city miserable want closer to nature maybe thats what ruined us no she was a douche its all her fault u were patient and kind and tolerant, you only yelled back a few times after sge put her hands on you, but u did like yell really loud and feircly because it was all pent up cuz she is a dick idk it seems much easier to give up now
Ok im done now i delete soon

Hi everyone,
I'm in need of some advice regarding my MacBook Air (2018). Here's the situation:

• Model: MacBook Air 2018
• Current OS: macOS Mojave 10.14.6 (which is pretty outdated)
• Storage Details:
  • Total Capacity: 121.02 GB
  • Available Storage: 10.72 GB
  • System Storage: 83.5 GB (which seems unusually high)

I've been trying to clear out some files to free up space, but the bulk of my storage is taken up by "System" files, and I can't figure out how to access or reduce this. My goal is to make enough space so that I can update to a more recent macOS version.
Questions:

1. How can I access and manage the System storage to free up space?
2. Is there a way to safely clean up or reduce the System storage without risking my important files?
3. What steps should I follow to update from macOS Mojave to a newer version without running into space issues?
4. Any recommendations for tools or methods to optimize storage on macOS Mojave?
5. Would updating the OS help in managing the System storage more efficiently? -- I'd like to update, but I literally have NO storage. Trust me I have tried!!
6. Would just wiping the whole laptop be efficient? LOL.

Any tips or guidance would be greatly appreciated! Thanks in advance for your help.
Edit: Just to add, I’ve already tried basic methods like clearing cache, deleting unnecessary files, and using built-in tools like Disk Utility, but the System storage remains stubbornly large.
https://preview.redd.it/h9trax0rk73d1.png?width=1162&format=png&auto=webp&s=6db24a1f0f8b689889b1ab390af81c8c91900e39

The worst kinds of monsters are the ones that you don’t recognize at first. For some folks, monsters are closer than they may think - shrouded in the darkness, waiting for the opportunity to strike. For a lucky few, they are protected from monsters by their loved ones, and allowed to grow and succeed.
Such was the case with Diana and Adam, a couple from Buckhannon, West Virginia. They weren’t exactly the spitting image of love - they argued sometimes, worked opposite shifts, and didn’t go out on dates that often. But, they were married, and that’s a lot farther than most couples make it. Diana was the social butterfly of the pair - dozens of friends, good relationships with people all around town, and a reputation for always carrying a sincere smile on her face and a helping hand for anyone who needed it.
At first glance, you would think that she was the one who grew up there, not Adam, but that wasn’t the case. After all, they were living in Adam’s childhood home, gifted to them by his parents as a wedding gift (and excuse to move to Florida). Adam was somewhat of a recluse - he had fine social skills, but worked the graveyard shift and never left the house much other than that. People would sometimes shoot the two glances when they were rarely sighted together - the old saying “opposites attract” might be true after all.
While they were indeed opposites, and they didn’t show it often, they did love each other, and protected each other from the monsters of the world. Not that there were many to defend from in their sleepy little town - there hadn’t been anything more than petty crime since the early 1960s.
They had been living in their home for around three years, and for Diana, it was just starting to feel like a home. When they first moved in, the place had a somber atmosphere. There was no light from street lamps peeking in through the blinds, eager to dance on her velvety skin on dark nights. There were no honks of cars outside, or faint music from a party in the distance. The environment was entirely different from the city she was raised in - and it took her a while to not hate it. After making friends with people around Buckhannon, though, her relationship with the place began to heal - she wasn’t suddenly head over heels for it, but she understood it as a staging area for the true meaning of home - the people she surrounded herself with.
Adam was accustomed to the place immediately, having lived there for years, and didn’t exactly enjoy the constant slew of company that Diana had parading through their halls. After all, he was dead tired, come sunup, and just wanted peace and quiet when he got home. He would often disregard visitors in his living room, offering a simple nod and slight smile as he climbed the old creaky stairs to go to bed. This didn’t exactly paint him nor the couple well - why was Diana married to this antisocial oddity who didn’t even seem to want people in his house at all?
While their lifestyles didn’t exactly line up, they still tried to take each other’s needs into consideration. Diana would usually go over to others’ houses if she wasn’t working and wanted to spend time with friends. If she did have company over, she tried to keep the volume to a minimum, which isn’t exactly difficult with simple conversation and coffee. Conversely, Adam would carefully traverse the house at night to ready himself for work (as much as it allowed for, with its aged floorboards). He loved her enough to let her sleep, and she loved him enough to do the same.
It was on a rare night where Adam didn’t have work that the couple got to go to bed together. The crisp autumn night let them leave the windows open to be awoken by the sounds of the birds outside. They shared a rare kiss, and rolled onto opposite sides of the bed to hopefully get a full night of sleep - they didn’t have anything to do tomorrow, after all. Diana’s eyelids shuttered open to a mostly dark room, only pierced by a rare spot of light shining through the open window. Weird, she thought - rarely did the moonlight penetrate the treeline, although it may have been easier now, with the browned leaves crumpling off of the maple trees. Despite this oddity, everything else appeared normal - it was still dead silent, save for the distant crickets chirping in the woods. What had awoken her?
She tried to sit up, if nothing else to retrieve a glass of water. However, she could not. Her eyes widened as her heart began to race - she didn’t know what was happening, but she didn’t like it. The only part of her that could move were her emerald eyes, darting across the room and looking for anything that might be causing this, or anything she could use to snap herself out of it.
And then, it stepped into the light. Upon seeing it, she wanted to scream, loud enough to reduce every window in the house to sand. But she could not - her lungs seemed to be one of the only organs that worked, as she kept breathing, despite the fact that she didn’t want to risk making noise. Her heart also worked, evidently - it was beating so fast that she thought it might give out.
Standing in front of her was a man - or what looked like one. It was around seven feet tall, and had mostly human features, apart from a few things that were strictly impossible for any living person to have. Its right arm was completely gone. The right half of its face was that of an expressionless young man - the right, simply a rim of burnt flesh and muscle surrounding a skull. Its feet were missing their skin completely, although they were intact enough for it to stand.
This was it, she thought. I’m going to die here, in this bed, and my husband is going to find me when he wakes up. She didn’t have a choice but to wait for the ghoul to approach her and rip her to shreds, or do who knows what else. But as the seconds turned into minutes (or at least felt like them), the being stayed still. Its expression remained neutral - no murderous glee, anger, or even sadness. It didn’t seem to want to harm her - or at least she hoped. Suddenly, the window slammed shut, and she blinked for the first time since she woke up. The figure was gone, and the window was indeed sealed, rendering the room completely silent. Her husband stirred next to her, and peered over at her as she sat there, hyperventilating, having finally regained control of her motor functions. Rather than offering comfort, though, he simply rolled back over. He had stayed up all of last night and day so they could go to bed together, and nothing was going to stop him from resting, not even his clearly distraught wife.
Even though she wanted to, she didn’t mention it over breakfast the next day. She was afraid of many things. She was scared that Adam wouldn’t believe her, and would ridicule her or take the experience as yet another jab towards his childhood home. She was afraid she was losing her mind, and didn’t want to think about it. She just had to pray that it wouldn’t happen again, and spent her day looking over her shoulder.
An accident at the factory the next evening abruptly granted Adam the night off, and they spent it watching an old romantic comedy in the living room. Diana wasn’t feeling very romantic, however - every single crack of a twig from what was probably just deer outside nearly sent her into a panic attack. Whatever that thing was, she didn’t want to see it again. She even prayed for the first time in years, simply to request that whatever foul spirit haunted her nightmares be banished. She drifted off to sleep with this as a slight comfort.
All comfort shattered immediately when she woke up in the darkness again. The being spared no time to hide in the shadows this time - Diana immediately saw it, staring out the window. It turned its head towards her, and she internally grimaced - its face was just as unsettling a sight as it was the previous night. This time, though, something about it was different - it had actual emotion on what remained of its face, even if just slightly. She saw a dull sadness, perhaps with a taste of bitterness, but she couldn’t see quite that much detail. All she knew was that whatever it was, it looked like it was hurting.
It suddenly raised its arm, and she felt a wave of cold air pass over her. She blinked, but it didn’t disappear. It stood, almost as if it was waiting for her to move towards it. To her surprise, she could - she cautiously lifted her torso up in the bed and moved the covers off of her legs, never taking her eyes off of it. Once she was out of bed, they stood and looked at each other, as if in a game of cat and mouse for who would move first. Ultimately, Diana won that competition, and the being turned and walked towards the bedroom’s door frame. It stopped mere feet from it, and turned its head back towards her, waiting for her. Everything inside of her, from her past experiences to basic survival instinct, was screaming at her not to follow it. But she somehow knew that it wasn’t going to harm her. She didn’t necessarily feel safe around it, but something compelled her to follow it.
So she did. She followed it down the stairs, and down another set into the boiler room. It led her towards a corner of the basement, and then turned around. She began looking around the room, searching for what this thing may have led her to. She tried to speak, but found herself unable to. The light coming through the window slightly shifted, and she saw a handle on the wall that matched the color of the paint surrounding it. It was a crawl space door, partially blocked by boxes and paint cans, but just barely visible. The being motioned for her to open it.
She had already made a stupid decision by following it down here, she reasoned - why should she enter a dark, dank crawlspace? This brief moment of logic and reason was quickly overridden by another voice within her head - hers still, but bearing different reasoning. “If it wanted to kill me, wouldn’t it have done so already?” she thought, and this was enough to get her to move the boxes, shift the paint cans aside, and try the door handle. It didn’t budge at first, as it was apparently sealed. After a few more violent tugs and the severing of the rubber seal surrounding the door, it violently swung open. Immediately, a foul smell permeated through the cold air, and she immediately began profusely gagging. It was a smell more horrible than anything she had ever had the misfortune of experiencing - worse than sewage, or spoiled food. It was the smell of rot.
The being was unfazed by this, and again motioned for her to go through the door, with a point from a finger that was barely attached to its decaying hand. Despite the fact that she had moments before been rolling on the ground, trying not to vomit, she again felt compelled to listen to the figure. She made her way through the tight tunnel, scraping her knees against the oddly brown-stained concrete, until she found herself in a room big enough that she could stand up. She fumbled around for a light switch, and didn’t find one. Regardless, the single lightbulb hanging from the ceiling flicked on, and when the room lit up, she couldn’t hold back the sickness anymore. She vomited all over the floor before collapsing against the wall, sobbing. She was still unable to speak or scream - despite her best efforts.
Inside the room were no less than twenty corpses, all stacked in a heap in the corner. Some were almost skeletal, while some appeared fresh. Lining the walls were dozens of instruments of torture, some foreign, some disturbingly familiar. She could not believe what she was seeing - a cell of death hiding beneath her home for who knows how long. The light flickered, and the being appeared in the center of the room. In the light, she could see more of its hideous features - a slit throat, missing fingers, missing teeth from the protruding skull. It calmly walked towards her as she sobbed, preparing to join the pile. But it did not touch her. It stood over her as she opened her eyes again, and extended its decomposing hand to her.
She was baffled, to say the least. Why did this thing bring her down here? Was it the one responsible for this? If not, then who did this? Questions raced through her overwhelmed mind as she raised her head to look at it once again. As they looked at each other, she suddenly understood, and all of the questions were answered. She took its hand, and rose to her feet. It looked at her for a few more seconds, and the light flickered again. It was gone.
The next morning, Diana made breakfast in the kitchen, shaking with anticipation for when her husband would awaken. She did not get an ounce of sleep after what had happened - she spent the night cleaning her vomit from the floor and sealing the door with superglue. She was so lost in thought, thinking about what had happened, that when a hand was placed on her shoulder, she nearly jumped out of her skin. Adam spun her around and pinned her against the stove. He firmly asked what she was doing in the basement last night.
How did he know? Diana wasn’t sure, but she quickly lied about going downstairs to change the temperature on the thermostat. His grip on her shoulders eased up a bit, and she exhaled in relief - before he raised his voice. She looked at him, shocked, as he yelled at her to never go down there without him again. He turned and left the kitchen and the house, slamming the front door as he left.
The next few weeks were uneasy. Diana walked on eggshells around Adam, who refused to even look at her. She didn’t know if he had anything to do with what she found, but she did not want to believe it. Even so, his family had owned the house since it was built - who else could it have been? She tried not to think about it, and didn’t even see friends anymore, in fear that she would accidentally reveal her secret. Even on nights where he was off work, they did not sleep together - she took the spare bedroom and locked the door. She didn’t get good sleep - but she slept through the night.
One night, she woke up in the pitch black once again. The being needed no introduction, standing by her bedside and waiting for her to awaken. It began walking towards the door again, and she followed without hesitation this time - whatever it had to show her, she was ready to see it. She found herself in the basement once again, as it simply stood there and looked at her. She couldn’t say anything to it, which was fine - she didn’t have anything to say.
Suddenly, the door to the basement flew open, the lights flicked on, and Adam flew down the stairs, angrier than she had ever seen him. As she tried to back up against the wall, he grabbed her arm and began screaming at her. As he yelled in her face, she had a choice to make, and she chose to push him away. He stumbled backwards to the edge of the shadows of the basement’s darkest corners, and in that instant, a rotting hand grabbed him and violently yanked him into the darkness. The lights cut out, as shrieks and squeals echoed from the corner. Just as suddenly as they started, though, they stopped. She stood there, completely emotionless, in the pitch dark.
The basement was entirely silent, as was the outside world - the crickets were quiet, there was no wind, and the radiator had stopped humming. The moonlight seeping into the room illuminated only the floor, where a pool of crimson blood slowly grew larger. Out of the shadows stepped the being, its wet, skinned feet slapping against the concrete. It did not move towards her - it just stared.
Then, out of the one eye it still had, it began to cry. It did not make noise, but teardrops rolled down its cheeks, and the sound of them falling off of its face and into the puddle of blood became the only noise in the room. At that moment, she finally understood.
The light flicked back on, and it disappeared. She looked into the corner where her husband was dragged, and found nothing. She ascended the stairs, still in her nightgown and slippers, and opened the front door, shutting it behind her as she left.

Forgive me for any lack of clarity on my part, I have a headache as I write this.
During the last week of January, my school vice principals became aware of my familial situation, which at the time involved physical abuse. They decided not to inform me about a scheduled meeting with my mother, with whom I had a strained relationship. During the meeting, two vice principals, including my vice principal and my school program lead, did not allow me to speak and labeled me as disrespectful when I attempted to correct my mother’s false statements. This situation caused me to become visibly upset, though I was crying rather than shouting.
The vice principal then instructed the child and youth worker present to take my school supplies, including my personal laptop, notebooks, and textbooks, to prevent me from leaving as I expressed discomfort and wanted to leave. This happened just before the January end-of-semester exams, which left me significantly behind in my studies. The child and youth worker then took me to her office and locked me in, again to prevent me from leaving. She accused me of being manipulative and deceptive when my alarm went off during the meeting, and I denied having a phone. My mother had restricted my internet access, impacting my ability to complete schoolwork and putting me behind my peers. This is why I had originally purchased a phone for myself; to complete school work. The child and youth worker was aware of this. After being released, I chose not to engage with them further until recently. I did not record the meeting.
On May 27, 2024, a teacher in class made a joking comment about giving us all "S" for behavioral skills on our report cards due to excessive phone use, and mentioned that she had taken pictures of a male student (referred to as "Fred") on his phone months prior. I commented that I had spoken to Fred's mom recently, and she found it amusing. The teacher then loudly asked "shouldn't I be talking to my own parents?" despite knowing about my estrangement due to physical abuse. This caused an audible reaction from the class, who found it inappropriate.
I reported this to my vice principal, who invited the social worker. They dismissed it as banter, suggesting that I had opened myself to such comments when I spoke to Fred's mom's amusement and that the teacher might feel uncomfortable around me in the future. The exact wording was "She might feel like she has to walk on eggshells going forward." They attributed my discomfort to my broader situation rather than the teacher’s comment and suggested I should see a therapist as my reaction was unwarranted and I should have addressed it with the teacher first. The vice principal remarked that my crying was manipulative and that if the issue were urgent, I would have reported it earlier. The meeting was at 9:20 AM. I had initially sought to speak to her at 8:20 AM but was told she was already in a meeting and that she would call me down when she was free. For reference, first period starts at 8:22 AM. She offered to facilitate a meeting between me and the teacher the next morning. I did not record this meeting but plan to record the next one.
How would one best go about this going foreward?
My specific questions are:
Did the school violate the Child and Family Services Act by failing to take appropriate protective measures after knowing about my abuse? Was it legal for the school to arrange a meeting with my mother without informing me, considering the abusive context?
Did the school have the authority to confiscate my personal laptop, notebooks, and textbooks to prevent me from leaving in this context?
Was confining me in a room against my will an act of false imprisonment under the Criminal Code? Do I have a case without evidence on my part?
Did the teacher's comments about my family situation, and the administration's dismissive response, constitute harassment or discrimination under the Ontario Human Rights Code?
Due to the lack of evidence, for the most part, am I better off speaking to an out of school but within the board regulatory body, like the superintendent? Before pursuing legal avenues?
Is there any other legal angle I might be able to approach this from?

I know people think this film is apolitical and are irritated by left and right interpretations, and it's about journalism, which it is. For sure. I don't give a shit about politics and I'm a white guy that doesn't any kind of agenda, I'm not even American. I generally despise conversations about people looking too far into art/media but this film has the ol' wheels turning.
TLDR: there's a good amount of implied evidence that the Civil War in the film is somewhat connected to a wider race war. Would only be apt since the first Civil War was kind of about race... or was that just... state's rights (to WHAT?).
Throughout my two rewatches - I absolutely was NOT looking for political undertones, just more background reasons for the war itself. There's lots of there's lots of showing, not telling in this film and here's what I've got:
Hotel Bar Scene
Sammy: "And you can't get anywhere near Philly. So you gotta go west, maybe as far as Pittsburgh."
Question is why can't we go anywhere near a city that's still in the loyalist part of the US? It's 700 miles from the front lines, and thousands of miles away from the successionist states, so what's going on? (43% of Philly identifies as black, the most in PA.)
Sammy: "But... you gonna make me explain why I have to be there?"
Why the fuck does Sammy have to BE THERE in particular? Job security? Both Lee and Joe don't have a response and look semi-ashamed after he says this, they then agree to take him to Charlottesville, he is 100% fearful of going near Washington, possibly because he's big boned.
Road Trip Through PA
Impartial counterpoint: on the way out of NY into PA, a few of the checkpoint soldiers are indeed black or POC - but these are possibly just militarized police, conscripted MPs or National Guard, the Gov't is getting squashed in the war and probably aren't sparing real manpower to lowly checkpoint posts.
Sammy: "You don't wanna miss this" - he has Jesse look to up at the road - the US version of the highway of death in PA - Sammy damn well knows it's coming up (cars are pointing West - the direction they're travelling, likely on the Westbound road out of Philadelphia toward Pittsburgh. (digital highway sign says MINES AHEAD).
This is possibly an allusion to the infamous (in the 90s and 2000s at least) "Highway of Death" from the Gulf War, US/UK/Canada/French forces destroyed some 3000 mostly stolen Kuwaiti fleeing vehicles on the road from Kuwait to Basra mostly by airpower.) https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Highway_of_Death
So WHY were these people in particular targeted when other cities and people seem to functioning? These people weren't WF, maybe just sympathizers. They were clearly fleeing and stopped by force, fleeing from Philly going west?
Impartial counterpoint: Two looters strung up (and shot off screen) are white.
Sammy suggests hardball questions Joel should ask the President, obviously he's thought a lot about what he'd like to ask him himself but for some reason can't go to DC himself (possibly he's too big boned)
Sammy: "State of the nation is QED"? (Don't know what this means)
Hawaiian Shirt Militia scene
Like 80% of the Hawaiian shirt militia are POC. They execute a (white) wounded solider on sight and very happily machine gun three of the captives (white). This is the literal definition of a war crime. Joel is seen having a good laugh with the "war criminal henchman" afterward, the others are nonplussed as usual. But Joel is characterized as a generally good dude, so what gives?
Stadium Refugee Camp
Most people in the refugee camp stadium are POC, like 90%. No where anywhere does it say this, and it's a stretch, but is this a cordoned off ghetto? This can't be geographically far from idyllic pristine white town scene that comes next. The girl that lets them in looks like a volunteer, UNICEF type person, so maybe not.
Through exposition, Jesse's and Lee's parents are revealed to be back home on a farm 'pretending it's not happening'. They're white and possibly don't have an existential stake in this war for whatever reason.
Idyllic Town in West Virginia
All white, where are the POC? Sammy doesn't go in to the shop for whatever reason and leans against the truck on the curbside, physically covering his big bones from the line of fire from the two snipers on the roof, the camera pans up to reveal they've been watching him closely. He says be subtle when he asks Lee to take a look, then asks her "you actually bought something?". But not in a judgmental tone, just one of mild surprise. Lee says this is everything she'd forgotten (normalcy) and Sammy says it's everything he's remembered (people watching him with suspicion).
At this point the 'all white townspeople' dispels the notion that Garland just casted random extras for all the scenes. For me at least.
Meth Damon and the Genocide Boys
Meth Damon and the two guys are using 3 military earth movers, the SUV they captured (Hong Kong guy and Jesse) was forcibly parked and detained off camera just out front of a nicely kept estate with a freshly mowed lawn, the secret mass graves are literally in the backyard. This means the "secret" mass graves are mostly in plain sight.
From a distance Joel guesses they're "not government forces, not up here". Implying they're too far from the front line to be an active Gov't unit. So they're possibly deserters or extreme (very extreme) far right local civilian LARPers. Possibly taking advantage of the chaos and having a good laugh while ethnically cleansing their neighborhood.
However they have a CIB patch and SSI on their left shoulders which imply at least the uniforms are Gov't military. Nametags/rank/etc, are stripped from their uniforms and they don't seem to be enforcing much of a dress code, hence the sexy non-reg glasses. So they've been operating without oversight for a good while.
All of the people in the dump truck bed being dumped into the mass grave are POC.
Here's a stretch - they could be the far right US Gov't version of the Einsatzgruppen (Nazi death squads). https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Einsatzgruppen The Nazis tended to choose real hardliners for these units, guys who violently put down prison revolts, etc., seems within character with Meth Damon.
The first execution is the most obvious POC - no questions asked. Next is Joel, while facing execution, Joel pauses and is trembling when he's compelled to say he's from Florida, which the audience expects will seriously piss off Meth Damon because Florida is a (fucking) successionist state leading an insurrection against the US government.
Meth Damon replies 'central', as in "Central America", implying he cares more about Joel's ethnicity than the fact he's hailing from a literal enemy state.
Meth Damon gives the two white people (Jesse and Lee) free passes for being from Colorado and Missouri. American. Then shoots guy from China. The mass grave is full of POC, including lots of women, women weren't spared on account of them being women, but white. Post scene exposition regarding what the holy fuck just happened is completely missing because Sammy is dying and because of Sturgill Simpson.
There's definitely a kindergartener in the mass grave.
Counterpoint: Some people in the grave look potentially white/have white people looking hair.
My takeaway is that they're just a side effect of the chaos and lawlessness near the front - they're what the farthest of the far right neo nazis would do - Even the reporters haven't seen anything this bad, the underestimate it.
Counterpoint - If Garland wanted us to think they were legit, Govt forces carrying out policy he'd have out them in full kit, full name badges, receiving orders from superiors, etc. Clear decision here to leave the fundamental reasons ambiguous, but 100% racially motivated.
Why don't the journalists know any better? They don't know shit about the war.
At the hotel scene Sammy, a New York Times reporter, says the WF supply lines are collapsing and they are operating in anarchy, competition with one another, and will turn on themselves once the war is over. Totally not true when we see finally see the WF FOB, even reporters have been fed propaganda and don't know shit what's going on out there. There doesn't seem to be a functioning Internet anywhere on the road, outside of the hotel, which is slow and prone to disconnects (probably firewalled worse than China's).
After Sturgill Simpson
Super ambiguous - Lee says "it may sound fucked up there were so many ways it could have ended for him, and a lot of them a lot worse. He didn't want to quit." Why does Sammy have horrifying potential deaths and not the rest of them? Big bones?
White House
Presidents staffers and staff in the Beast are white. Secret service all seem white, I didn't rewatch this part closely so don't quote me.
Counterpoint - Press Secretary ? who tries to negotiate the President's extradition is black. However, the black lady WF soldier is the only person the squad allows to speak to her, the others don't interrupt, and she is the only person to open fire on her - a single shot, no backup fire or doubletapping. Why? At no point is she leading the squad so why does she speak for them? Seems like an very specific and intentional decision by the director.
Counterpoint - Before she dies, he requests the President's extradition to a neutral territory - Greenland or Alaska - Alaska isn't part of the US anymore (Alaska has been solely run by Republicans since the 1960s, and is only 4% black)
The most telling point of the film:
The three "Navy Seals" and the other WF Forces holding the President at gunpoint are white, except for WF black lady. The black WF soldier is allowed to fire the only two execution shots. The others don't jump the gun or ask if they can be the hero who pulls the trigger, or fire additional shots.
Imagine how thirsty Seal Team 6 was to be the guy who shot fucking Bin Laden. Why did Garland write this so only the black female soldier gets the kills shot?
That's what I got.

I know people think this film is apolitical and are irritated by left and right interpretations, and it's about journalism, which it is. For sure. I don't give a shit about politics and I'm a white guy that doesn't any kind of agenda, I'm not even American. I generally despise conversations about people looking too far into art/media but this film has the ol' wheels turning.
TLDR: there's a good amount of implied evidence that the Civil War in the film is somewhat connected to a wider race war. Would only be apt since the first Civil War was kind of about race... or was that just... state's rights (to WHAT?).
Throughout my two rewatches - I absolutely was NOT looking for political undertones, just more background reasons for the war itself. There's lots of there's lots of showing, not telling in this film and here's what I've got:
Hotel Bar Scene
Sammy: "And you can't get anywhere near Philly. So you gotta go west, maybe as far as Pittsburgh."
Question is why can't we go anywhere near a city that's still in the loyalist part of the US? It's 700 miles from the front lines, and thousands of miles away from the successionist states, so what's going on? (43% of Philly identifies as black, the most in PA.)
Sammy: "But... you gonna make me explain why I have to be there?"
Why the fuck does Sammy have to BE THERE in particular? Job security? Both Lee and Joe don't have a response and look semi-ashamed after he says this, they then agree to take him to Charlottesville, he is 100% fearful of going near Washington, possibly because he's big boned.
Road Trip Through PA
Impartial counterpoint: on the way out of NY into PA, a few of the checkpoint soldiers are indeed black or POC - but these are possibly just militarized police, conscripted MPs or National Guard, the Gov't is getting squashed in the war and probably aren't sparing real manpower to lowly checkpoint posts.
Sammy: "You don't wanna miss this" - he has Jesse look to up at the road - the US version of the highway of death in PA - Sammy damn well knows it's coming up (cars are pointing West - the direction they're travelling, likely on the Westbound road out of Philadelphia toward Pittsburgh. (digital highway sign says MINES AHEAD).
This is possibly an allusion to the infamous (in the 90s and 2000s at least) "Highway of Death" from the Gulf War, US/UK/Canada/French forces destroyed some 3000 mostly stolen Kuwaiti fleeing vehicles on the road from Kuwait to Basra mostly by airpower.) https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Highway_of_Death
So WHY were these people in particular targeted when other cities and people seem to functioning? These people weren't WF, maybe just sympathizers. They were clearly fleeing and stopped by force, fleeing from Philly going west?
Impartial counterpoint: Two looters strung up (and shot off screen) are white.
Sammy suggests hardball questions Joel should ask the President, obviously he's thought a lot about what he'd like to ask him himself but for some reason can't go to DC himself (possibly he's too big boned)
Sammy: "State of the nation is QED"? (Don't know what this means)
Hawaiian Shirt Militia scene
Like 80% of the Hawaiian shirt militia are POC. They execute a (white) wounded solider on sight and very happily machine gun three of the captives (white). This is the literal definition of a war crime. Joel is seen having a good laugh with the "war criminal henchman" afterward, the others are nonplussed as usual. But Joel is characterized as a generally good dude, so what gives?
Stadium Refugee Camp
Most people in the refugee camp stadium are POC, like 90%. No where anywhere does it say this, and it's a stretch, but is this a cordoned off ghetto? This can't be geographically far from idyllic pristine white town scene that comes next.
Through exposition, Jesse's and Lee's parents are revealed to be back home on a farm 'pretending it's not happening'. They're white and possibly don't have an existential stake in this war for whatever reason.
Idyllic Town in West Virginia
All white, where are the POC? Sammy doesn't go in to the shop for whatever reason and leans against the truck on the curbside, physically covering his big bones from the line of fire from the two snipers on the roof, the camera pans up to reveal they've been watching him closely. He says be subtle when he asks Lee to take a look, then asks her "you actually bought something?". But not in a judgmental tone, just one of mild surprise.
At this point the 'all white townspeople' dispels the notion that Garland just casted random extras for all the scenes. For me at least.
Meth Damon and the Genocide Boys
Meth Damon and the two guys are using 3 military earth movers, the SUV they captured (Hong Kong guy and Jesse) was forcibly parked and detained off camera just out front of a nicely kept estate with a freshly mowed lawn, the secret mass graves are literally in the backyard. This means the "secret" mass graves are mostly in plain sight.
From a distance Joel guesses they're "not government forces, not up here". Implying they're too far from the front line to be an active Gov't unit. So they're possibly deserters or extreme (very extreme) far right local civilian LARPers. Possibly taking advantage of the chaos and having a good laugh while ethnically cleansing their neighborhood.
However they have a CIB patch and SSI on their left shoulders which imply at least the uniforms are Gov't military. Nametags/rank/etc, are stripped from their uniforms and they don't seem to be enforcing much of a dress code, hence the sexy non-reg glasses. So they've been operating without oversight for a good while.
All of the people in the dump truck bed being dumped into the mass grave are POC.
Here's a stretch - they could be the far right US Gov't version of the Einsatzgruppen (Nazi death squads). https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Einsatzgruppen The Nazis tended to choose real hardliners for these units, guys who violently put down prison revolts, etc., seems within character with Meth Damon.
The first execution is the most obvious POC - no questions asked. Next is Joel, while facing execution, Joel pauses and is trembling when he's compelled to say he's from Florida, which the audience expects will seriously piss off Meth Damon because Florida is a (fucking) successionist state leading an insurrection against the US government.
Meth Damon replies 'central', as in "Central America", implying he cares more about Joel's ethnicity than the fact he's hailing from a literal enemy state.
Meth Damon gives the two white people (Jesse and Lee) free passes for being from Colorado and Missouri. American. Then shoots guy from China. The mass grave is full of POC, including lots of women, women weren't spared on account of them being women, but white. Post scene exposition regarding what the holy fuck just happened is completely missing because Sammy is dying and because of Sturgill Simpson.
There's definitely a kindergartener in the mass grave.
Counterpoint: Some people in the grave look potentially white/have white people looking hair.
My takeaway is that they're just a side effect of the chaos and lawlessness near the front - they're what the farthest of the far right neo nazis would do - Even the reporters haven't seen anything this bad, the underestimate it.
Counterpoint - If Garland wanted us to think they were legit, Govt forces carrying out policy he'd have out them in full kit, full name badges, receiving orders from superiors, etc. Clear decision here to leave the fundamental reasons ambiguous, but 100% racially motivated.
Why don't the journalists know any better? They don't know shit about the war.
At the hotel scene Sammy, a New York Times reporter, says the WF supply lines are collapsing and they are operating in anarchy, competition with one another, and will turn on themselves once the war is over. Totally not true when we see finally see the WF FOB, even reporters have been fed propaganda and don't know shit what's going on out there. There doesn't seem to be a functioning Internet anywhere on the road, outside of the hotel, which is slow and prone to disconnects (probably firewalled worse than China's).
After Sturgill Simpson
Super ambiguous - Lee says "it may sound fucked up there were so many ways it could have ended for him, and a lot of them a lot worse. He didn't want to quit." Why does Sammy have horrifying potential deaths and not the rest of them? Big bones?
White House
Presidents staffers and staff in the Beast are white. Secret service all seem white, I didn't rewatch this part closely so don't quote me.
Counterpoint - Press Secretary ? who tries to negotiate the President's extradition is black. However, the black lady WF soldier is the only person the squad allows to speak to her, the others don't interrupt, and she is the only person to open fire on her - a single shot, no backup fire or doubletapping. Why? Seems like an very specific and intentional decision by the director.
Counterpoint - Before she dies, he requests the President's extradition to a neutral territory - Greenland or Alaska - Alaska isn't part of the US anymore (Alaska has been solely run by Republicans since the 1960s, and is only 4% black)
The most telling point of the film:
The three "Navy Seals" and the other WF Forces holding the President at gunpoint are white, except for WF black lady. The black WF soldier is allowed to fire the only two execution shots. The others don't jump the gun or ask if they can be the hero who pulls the trigger, or fire additional shots.
Imagine how thirsty Seal Team 6 was to be the guy who shot fucking Bin Laden. Why did Garland write this so only the black female soldier gets the kills shot?
That's what I got.

Essence Of The Magus. (Nasuverse) • It's a beautiful multicolored liquid that, despite everything, keeps changing to new and innovative colors never seen before, it's very mysterious. • You have a natural body, this means that you are the pinnacle of what the human body has to offer in all its shapes and sizes, you are beautiful and as time goes by those traits will only improve, whether you want the strong beauty of muscles or the very delicacy and fragility of a lily, this will be inclined to your desires and requests, so you will undoubtedly be beautiful to your own preferences and desires, even affect the color of your hair or how your eyes will be, and all this without lowering the capabilities of the human body, with reflexes and senses superior to anyone else, your body is the pinnacle and is always improving to reach new heights, this will always be naturally so no one will suspect anything, everything is decided if you want to stay as you are or become the summit of the body of the human being. • You will always be seen in full elegance, maintaining unparalleled grace and balance, you could be associated with a machine before such a detailed display of pinpoint accuracy, you are graceful and gifted with an overwhelming presence and unmatched charisma, expect to have many admirers unless you voluntarily turn it off or mitigate it, and if you consciously use it to its full force don't expect there will be anyone with enough willpower to resist you, you are nobility in every concept of the word, maybe you will get some title like Lorelei Barthomeloi and her title of 'The Queen Of The Clock Tower' or 'The Queen' for short. • Furthermore, you have what would poetically be called 'The Will To Shatter The Stars'. There is no difficulty, no degree of opposition and no level of pain or suffering that can intimidate your intentions, once you make up your mind about something. You can do this all day long and never stop doing it, except by your own conscious choice. Forget mere 'maximum human' willpower, you are absolutely unbreakable. While remaining mentally flexible enough to not be a stubborn idiot, of course. • Your body can not be infected by any being, supernatural or not, you can not be controlled or damaged by both mental and spiritual means, your body is an immovable fortress, your mind to a library masterfully ordered and maintained, your soul is a perpetual sanctuary you can repeat as many times the change of body as Roa or do something with worms as Zouken and your soul will remain the same, you could say that it is a perfect soul for sorcery, beware, the third magic will be and will remain better by far, your soul is something that will remain the same in the face of the most extreme things, but it is not the true immortality that is the third magic, unless you dedicate your research skills to change that. • Mentally, you are able to modify and alter your mind, you can program your mind to react to whatever you want however you want, leaving mental triggers to move before they react is possible, molding it to create a disguise of some different personality is possible, you can even affect their feelings achieving a masterful mask, creating a state with a completely different personality and state of mind is easy, in case you are not sure how to mold your mind without changing you can leave safety countermeasures to go back to any previous state, if a certain thought or situation happens, you are a magician and as such, your masks to fool others are the best, if you use them wisely you could be in your best state to fight or go into a disguise that even Sherlock himself could not discover, this will not affect your will, and you cannot end up as a brain-dead fool by accident, unless that is your disguise. • A little advice, stay away from the eyes of Atlas, those alchemists will see the holy grail or the root itself, if they get to know what kind of body type you have, you will be a very wet dream for any of their researchers, they even have a motto that fits. “It's easy to get into Atlas, but impossible to get out.” • If I were you, I'd be careful with the gods, a body like yours would have them drooling or hating you, it's funny how you don't know which one is worse, it all depends on which gods notice you, god forbid, the Greeks, although they might not even come close because they're admiring you. • The reason for a mind like you have, is to hide the default personality you have as a magus, a cold being, without morals or ethics, who can do anything, this part of you will make the machines see you as the typical sentimental people, it doesn't take much to scare people in that state, people will wonder what the hell you are, what kind of being is hiding under that disguise of flesh you call skin, you can always change it if you want, although you can always hide it, your mind can never be taken advantage of by anyone other than you. • You can choose to have the potential to have true magic, you decide if you only want one or all five in total, you can decide if you want to reach them through research, that being the case you can get creative about how you carry out your research to play true magic, and, it can help you later, this is more of an option than anything else, if you want, you can appear as a user of the five true magics, although it is not said that there will be no questions of how the hell did that happen, you have a complete control of the true magics, and you know both its maximum capabilities and the smallest details about its operation. • The first magic “Denial Of Nothingness”: The first true magic, known as “The Denial Of Nothingness”, is related to the generation of an ether clusters, this includes the creation of matter and energy from nothing and the total destruction of matter and energy in nothing, the clusters of ether are conductors of magical energy. • The second magic “Kaleidoscope”: The second true magic, known as the ”Kaleidoscope” or the “Parallel Worlds Operation”, this includes traveling to alternate worlds, time travel, space-time manipulation and the ability to decide whether timelines are 'canon' or not, you can be creative how you use this, it's not too far-fetched to overlay different dimensions to play with the environment or use unlimited energy from all your universe versions to make a giant energy cannon, the only thing that What stops you is the creativity of how you could use it, you will have to be attentive because interacting with the dimensions and being able to observe everything that the multiverse can be, it can be a bit maddening, you will be protected in any way, but do not expect it to be a very happy, the dimensions have some that can make any person quite crazy, just look how his previous bearer was with the magical girls. • The third magic “Heaven's Feel”: The Third True Magic, known as the “Touch Of Heaven” or the “Manifestation Of The Soul”. This stops the inevitable dispersal of the soul once it no longer has an anchor in the world, and essentially causes it to transcend into a higher form of existence. It is a magic that realizes true immortality by turning the soul into a flat, high-dimensional being capable of interacting with the material world as a mental body without having to return to Akasha. The Sorcerer will acquire an unlimited source of magical energy because his soul becomes analogous to a perpetual motion machine, just like the previous ones, creativity will help you a lot, although with this who needs creativity when you are truly immortal, enjoy ~. • As a certain person said, I wish I had finished in the third, too bad it didn't happen • The fourth magic “White Ink”: The Fourth True Magic, known as the “White Ink”, in another universe the fourth magic is unknown, but how would you go about selecting a magic without knowing all your options? The fourth is based on the manifestation, manipulation, and alteration of concepts, you could alter the concept of water so that it burns instead of splashing (He, he, he) or you can very well create your own urban legend and add the concept 'real' to it, despite the tremendous power that you can still have to be careful, every being is sensitive, even reality itself, so press hard and don't expect to come out very well, you are powerful, but not invincible, keep that in mind, an example would be the previous user of the fourth magic that in an attempt to erase the concept of the fourth magic ended up being erased, it failed to eliminate the fourth magic, but the world ended up forgetting its capabilities due to certain parts that were erased. (Credit goes to AcausalTrillby at fanfiction.net for the inspiration with his story called White Ink) • The fifth magic “Blue Magic”: The Fifth True Magic, known as the “Blue Magic” allows free manipulation of energy/heat without worrying about the order imposed by the arrow of time of thermodynamics (represented by the Second Law), and, thus leading in particular to time manipulation, as opposed to relativistic time travel, Aoko Aosaki managed to affect space-time with this magic, and you can too if you put your mind to it, just be careful you don't want to extinguish life on earth, right? • “The Sixth True Magic”: Currently non-existent, a path to the Root will be granted. You can get close to him, but you must not touch him. By doing so, you will gain access to a new True Magic. It is speculated that the Sixth True Magic might be a magic that can bring happiness to everyone. This may or may not be the case. The magic has to be something unattainable by mundane or thaumaturgical means, as long as those criteria are met you can create the sixth magic, since you are creating something new and not reusing the five magics, this will be the one with which you connect the most, don't get me wrong, if you choose any of the other five, you will have no limits or problems when handling it, in fact you could take it to heights never seen before, only this being your creation, you will be more connected and you, and only you will be the person capable of using it, you are the creator of the sixth magic be proud. • Note something, the first, and fifth are similar in that a path to the root, an Akasha gate, originated and magic was obtained upon its arrival, while the second, third, and fourth were produced as a half to get to that place, however insignificant it may sound to some, this has its own weight in how your magic interacts with you, you may be able to touch or see the path to the Root, or you may try to recreate the means to reach the Root, be careful with that, people smarter than you tried, and they didn't end very well. • It can be said that magicians have become the adversaries of the planet, and by having magic, as redundant as it sounds, you have become a magician, something that the human mind would not normally be able to carry as a burden. Carrying such a power is the recklessness of changing the world, as such, from the moment you obtain true magic, you are destined to go through great things or most likely to affect the entire world, whether the change is good or bad, it will depend on what you decide. • Becoming a magician is something that must be thought carefully, it is a mantle, and it is raw power that will undoubtedly affect how you see the world or how the world sees you, you are entering forbidden territory for human hands, it is the land of gods, so unless you want to fight against gods or planets, think about it a bit before making your choice, and of course, you have some duties with humanity, it's not mandatory, but you can at least look at them once or twice, so they don't get killed or end up committing suicide. • You can grant one magic per person by creating five or six wizards who will be loyal to you until death, you can remove that magic whenever you want and however you want, although at least tell them what you are giving them, you do not want extradimensional accidents or extinction of life on earth, you can always decide to ignore this advice and have fun with the results. • You are by far the most talented and predisposed being to magic, your talent, ingenuity, and creativity have no comparison, your sense, and intuition regarding magecraft is undoubtedly superior, your mind has a library with all the magical knowledge of the entire verse from TYPE-MOON, whatever reality it is, it can be a bit overwhelming, but you get used to it, god forbid you can follow in the footsteps of Lorelei and focus on basic magecraft or some specific theme and develop it so much that you become the Bruce Lee of magic with 'Repeat a kick a thousand times', of course with your talent that can reach true magic levels very quickly, with any magic. • You can connect and adapt to any existing thaumaturgical foundation, yes, that includes the church, this would allow you to use any existing spell as long as you are connected to the foundation of that respective spell, be it sorcery, from Chinese philosophy magecraft, traditional Japanese magecraft and of course the one practiced by the clock tower, there is no foundation that you do not know and to which you cannot connect, if you do not like any, you can create your own thaumaturgical foundation with the rules and implications that you want and although technically it would be impossible, your own willpower is enough to maintain that foundation, if you decide to make that foundation your primary method of practicing magic, with your willpower involved, believe me, there will be no end to how strong you can become, and that applies to every foundation you connect to, you can revive a foundation on the verge of death to its best moment and take it to something much better. • Established and long-standing foundations will be more likely to connect and improve, they may not be as versatile, focusing only on their field as the church that is dedicated to something more spiritual, so be aware that you would spend a lot of time and resources originating a new foundation that connecting and empowering an existing one, each one has its cons and its pluses. • As a great magus you don't always have to depend on a large mound of magic circuits for everything, you can use the quantifiable energy of the Soul; the pseudo-spiritrons to design organisms or stronger objects, as the alchemists of Atlas do, you can also be like hackers and enter the network practicing their code-cast method, whenever you cannot or do not want to use your magic circuits you will find another way to practice sorcery, very well you can practice some method of “Walk and Breathe” to try to become a Xian, whatever method you choose you can take it to unimaginable heights without relying on your magic circuits, and with your talent you can do wonders. • It is true that you can work without magic circuits, you could very well become the best spell caster without even using them even once in your life, but it is better to use every resource you have and magic circuits are part of those resources, your circuits are special, unique in its kind, you will start with fifty magic circuits “Blue Bloods: Noble Magic Circuits”, being the best of the best, what differentiates it from the others is that your magic circuits are improved and shaped the more you use them, these circuits they will grow, improve and multiply, the very environment where you are will affect them and will affect their growth, they may become a “Magic Nucleus” or for some strange reason a “Magic Reactor”, there is also the possibility of becoming “Regression to the Age of Gods”. Allowing you to reproduce the existing mysteries before the age of man, it is certain that they will become what you want and that they will continually improve, in case they are damaged, or you do not have magic circuits they will begin to sprout or self-repair always looking for a way to advance, they may even be influenced by your origin. • As you have undoubtedly noticed, your magic circuits are not natural, this will not affect your form of sorcery in any negative way, who knows, you may reach some level higher than “Blue Bloods: Noble Magic Circuits” magic circuits are used to connect to the thaumaturgical foundation, you will see a rapid adaptation and improvement, the more you use them with a specific foundation, maybe even adopt some characteristics of said foundation. • You can create magic circuits through research and development and implant them in a host, but such a thing would be for someone else, because yours are already on their way to the best of the best. • This also affects how much magical energy you use, to make a comparison, the average mage has 20 units of magical energy, Ciel had 5000 units, you have 10000, and it will always improve according to your magic circuits, as a respected magus you must have enough energy to sustain any research or spell you want. • You can change your origin, it is true that the origin is the starting point that defines one's existence and directs one's actions throughout life. It is the driving force that comes from within the Root, which has managed to sprout from the Source and take material form, but you can change it, unlike other people you can trace your origin to the Root and exchange it for something that is more convenient, ok to see changes, so you will have to be careful, but at least you can change it for anything you want, be it creature, emotion or concept, you can even keep several at the same time, although you would have to be careful, the origin may end waking up if you swap it too much or if you have several, and they manage to sync up, you're a never-before-seen case, so crazy things can happen. • If a person ends up awakening their Origin, it becomes nearly impossible to deviate from their Origin, if even possible in the first place. It becomes an impulsive behavior that one would follow as if it were an absolute order, it has to be taken into account that if you achieved such a thing you would gain superhuman abilities according to your origin, the defense mechanism that you have will save you at some point after awakening your origin, the defense mechanism returns your origin to its state before waking up, you can program it so that it takes days or months to put your origin to sleep again, keep that in mind, the origin has to be treated with care. • Element, the elements are somewhat easier to deal with and without as much danger as the origins, by default you are an average with the five elements, fire, water, earth, air, and ether and just as before you can exchange and modify them to your liking it is better not to overlap an exaggerated number of elements, but at least you are not in as much danger as with the origins, the element is the type of magic with which you are more predisposed and which one you are better at, it should be noted that different cultures handle in different ways the elements, so there is a variety of elements with the same name, you will have to be more specific when changing the element. • The elements are not so rigid when it comes to making magecraft, if we put as an example that you have water as an element and that you want to learn spells more inclined with fire, you can, but it will cost more, although that is not your case, it should also be remembered that the elements are more than the name of said element itself, water is the fluidity and control of liquids, the other elements are something similar, only with their own peculiarities, there are elements as unique as sword or hollow, so who knows What things can you achieve if you start being creative. • Origins and elements are connected, so if you have the same origin and the same element, you will notice that your magic will have a boost on anything bordering on that field, although you run the risk of over-specializing, an example would be demon origin and demon element, you will find that you could do spectacular things with demonology, although you won't be able to do much with any kind of sorcery not associated with demons. • You are an artist when it comes to creating things, you would fit very well with Atlas, just like them, you are able to create things that could bring about the destruction of the world seven times, there is no limit in what you are able to build, from mystical supergiant codes like the “Foundation of Philosophy” up to the seven weapons of Atlas, it would be possible within your capabilities to start theorizing how to create Noble Phantasms or recreate them, very well you can do like the hikikomori of Caubac and create your own holy scriptures, or you can be like Zelretch troll and create items about magical girls or whatever you prefer, you can create the philosophical keys or magical crests or create something new based on it. • Theoretically, you are able to build anything shown in TYPE-MOON that is supernatural, and this includes everything from a simple pistol to the MOON CELL itself, and always with the ability to innovate, improve, or create something entirely new. • The “Philosophy Foundation” generated by the Xian in the land of China is essentially a simulation of an artificial Root. The Xians worked together as a group to build it. Instead of connecting to the Root using the gods as a relay, as civilizations in the Age of Gods did, the Xian produced their system of magic by building a Supergiant Mystic Code that merges with the planet. That is the Philosophy Foundation. • You are able to break down any magic you see or theorize into its most basic components, you may very well be called the second coming of Waver, for what you can do, with your talents it would not be difficult to dissect any magic you see down to its most basic concepts, being able to recreate it if you decide to do such a thing, you can always see ways to improve or modify it, but there is no magic that you don't see that you don't understand. • It has been said that anything magecraft can do technology can do and vice versa, you understand that principle well, you are capable of achieving anything science achieves through magecraft, any technology you see will only give you new and innovative ideas to achieve it through magecraft. • An example would be Apollo 11, you can imitate such a thing with magecraft, a space teleportation to reach the moon or some strange chimera that can take you, to know if you can do something else with astrology, true magic may end up dying, but magecraft it will be maintained and will continue to advance as long as you exist and science exists. • A magus is a scholar above all else, as a magus your main skill will be the investigation of sorcery in order to get to the root, you are a born investigator knowing every detail of the book by heart, a slight passing glance is enough to remember it whenever you want without need at a second glance, and not only that, you understand them to their very core, anything you don't know, you only need to investigate it to learn, as a researcher your handwriting will be relentless, your notes will be the finer details, and you can always do a thesis about a thousand and one ways to get to the root, you know for shit and giggles. • You unconsciously organize your work space, you will not be the typical researcher with your head in the clouds and with a workshop more messy than your room, no, your workshop is a perfect example of order, organized to the millimeter without you realizing it, this is also gone to all your jobs, no leaving dangerous things lying around unprotected or having all your tools dirty and messy, you know what they say, a tidy space is a safe space, and you have exemplary security. • You are a good teacher, you see the talent of people, their potential, and you can show that by bringing out all that talent, just like Waver you are an exceptional teacher when it comes to teaching, even the dumbest and most talentless person can become even a Lord, a person with real talent and a good head on his shoulders can very well get to Marshall just like Zelretch and Lorelei, of course as long as he listens to your lessons. • In addition to research you can focus your skills to develop many elements in any field you choose, on top of that you will never see any unwanted side effects or stalling your research, you see possibilities in mistakes, small delays in full stalls of a sorcery, potential in drawbacks, every mistake, bump, or snag in your eyes will become a possibility that may very well take your research to new heights. • Example: you can focus on martial arts, create something like the Nanaya killing arts, even recreate the Nanaya arts themselves, use pre-existing martial arts to give them mystical effects, it's very viable, you can create your own mystical martial arts. Assessing an enemy in the middle of a fight is easy for you, developing countermeasures against him or finding weaknesses you can exploit (If you have “The Mystic Eyes Of Death Perception” or something similar, you can find new lines of death or develop them in your enemy yourself) there is no field in which you cannot apply your talents. • Optionally, you can create a workshop, a workshop is a place where the magus carry out their research, it is a sacred place that any self-respecting magus will never let anyone enter, yours is impenetrable and untouchable, unless you allow it, at first you can design it inside as you like either as some ancient place of study or as a modern laboratory, your workshop is a subspace between dimensions, impossible for any being to find, no matter where you go you can access to your workshop from anywhere, be it places as remote as the bottom of the ocean, some forest, or desert forgotten by the hand of God or space itself, you just have to call it the way you want, a door will open where you can enter, you can modify this entrance as you want, needing a key or only access from a certain door when you want, and always having the flexibility so that you can modify it to your g you. • Your workshop has books on every possible sorcery and various ways to implement it, even notes for a beginner to practice little by little and build slowly, along with manuals and various articles for learning, it also has information on magus policy or data from the world both known and not, there is a lot of knowledge that will serve you, and not all of it is necessarily sorcery, at your option, all of TYPE-MOON's knowledge can be here in book formats or any other form you want, the workshop It will have any material or tool you require, and just like before it ranges from the most exotic never thinkable to the most normal, after spending that material it will recharge regularly, so you never have to worry about running out of resources. • In case you want something different, you can create your own workshop in the way you want, building both its defenses and places where you will store your knowledge and carry out your research, when you finish, the construction will gain the same benefits as if you had it. Given, these are undetectable and impenetrable. • Your workshop is a place for any outside creature not to enter and for anything inside not to leave, the workshop is something that you can change to your liking both in appearance, space and time, you can even change concepts within your own workshop, convert your ceiling a gateway to space, so you can admire any star from near or far, you can't be harmed inside your own workshop so the vacuum of space or the sun's rays would do little or nothing to you. • A magician walks with death, you among the many magus out there, you are sensitive to danger, you know very well when something can go wrong, you detect it like a bloodhound, whether it is a migraine, a slight smell or daring visions of the mirrors of what could go wrong, whatever method you choose, you know something will go wrong, and you know what will cause it, there is no longer any danger of experiments or ambushes, your sense of danger will alert you whenever death is near you, there will be no moments either late or too early, this gives you the right time, and also something of how to go out, there is nothing impossible to avoid death here. • You can leave marks on people so that they also notify you if they are in danger, you decide if the same person is aware of the danger or not. • You can say if you want to be like Akiha Tohno and I will become a half-breed with the blood of some mythical or supernatural beast, this will give you certain unique abilities depending on the blood you decide, it will also give you a stronger connection to the mystery, your instincts will be controllable and will not cause any problem, although they can always be useful, it is always curious to know what those senses perceive that is not detectable by humans. • Optionally, you can decide if you want to do some research to fully become that creature, an example being becoming a dead apostle like Gransurg Blackmore did. • You can give people mythical blood if you want to do something with it, you can always control them and take that power away from them if they rebel. • Despite the fact that many magus dislikes it, politics is present within their society, you are the one who governs that, words are an art that you master, you are the best, it is simple to deceive or convince people, you know how people think. People, you know what they want, you know how to guide their thoughts or group a group of people with certain ideas, you know by heart every law, every line, every letter of every word and every political loophole that you can take advantage of with all that, move in the world politician, it's not very difficult, you control it well, you can be considered a control demon for how well you handle everything. • If you don't want to touch politics, that's fine, you know enough to move in society, it's simple to fake smiles or emotions, deceiving people is second nature, making them believe that you are like them, without any problem and with a normal life it's surprisingly easy, if you don't want to fool anyone that's fine, just with the security you show you would eventually have some group of trustworthy friends. • Sometimes it is difficult to know if a decision is good, until after seeing what happens, not for you, the decisions you make, are made under detailed scrutiny, your decisions will no longer have the doubt of whether you did it right, and even if for some strange reason some bad decision goes through your detailed study, you will have a sixth sense that will constantly warn you not to choose it, it will be your decision after that. • If ever it is not enough to stick to the laws, you know how to do everything in a more criminal way, blackmail, extortion, threaten, etc. you know every dirty trick in the book, in fact you wrote the book, you know it backwards and forwards, the underworld has its own laws, and you know them like the back of your hand, your very well can create your own mafia and promote it by the underworld, and when it's not enough to talk, well, it's an easier way to just permanently eliminate every person or group that opposes, not that anyone finds out if you want. • You know people's minds, you know how they think, you know what they want, and you can notice very clearly when some thought of betrayal passes through their pretty little head now condemned, you can tell if they have a plan or if they are trying to influence you, not because of some strange ability but because you simply know how the human being works, there is no person that you cannot understand, just one look and the personality of any person remains in your eyes, abnormal cases like Shirou Emiya is simply looking at them from a slightly different perspective, it is easy to You play with those thoughts, moving some person from one place to another like a puppet is quite a fun hobby, turning the most cowardly person into something much worse than Shirou with his sense of heroism and his lack of self-preservation is simple, the most calm and good-hearted person under your hands can be left as Kirei Kotomine with no moral limit as to how much evil is enough, h woe to whoever makes you angry, you know enough about the human being to create a real hell with simple words, people tend to think that words cannot cause so much damage, after all, words are not as effective as a sword According to them, it is sometimes easy to forget that a few simple words caused the fall of Camelot. • Trade is not so attached to the magus, but it is better to have money and be like Luvia using money from one side to the other, not be like Rin and wonder if you can last until the end of the month paying attention to each expense you make, the world of commerce opens its huge golden doors to you, you know money, you know how money is managed, you know where there are opportunities or how to create them yourself, you know where definitely not to be around to keep the money you have and avoid losses. • You have what can be said, a golden luck, the lottery, prizes, or just finding a dollar on the street, money comes to you passively, you can control how much comes to you, from a simple five dollars to millions, someone can suspect, but you will still be rich, so there will not be so many problems. • You know every dollar, every coin by heart, down to the tiniest penny, you keep it in mind when you do the math, which makes you very good with numbers, but pluses aside, you keep every bit of your money in mind, so that if any bills or coins go missing you'll notice quickly, so it's easy to spot if some fool is having a funny idea about your money. • Furthermore, you are the best at handling money, you can very well copy the Harweys and get 60% of the planet or more, there will be opposition, but if you use this, plus your political skills, you can very well do it without anyone noticing. • Mystery is what allows magecraft, the crystallization of belief, so it is undeniable to say that without mystery there is no magecraft or magic, as time passes and technology advances, the mystery gradually evaporates from this world, a risk for the magus, because their job lies in the very existence of the mystery, that is a danger that does not apply to you, your mere existence revives the mystery, you are like a plant only instead of expelling air, you expel mystery, this is something you can control, such as applying it only to your actions or that it spreads throughout the world or only to an area in general, you decide. • Be careful not to spread it around the world, the revival of the mystery can revive some troublesome things, most likely you can irreparably affect the world itself, the planet itself will be affected by such an action. • If you decide to enclose the mystery in an area, in that small area the mystery will begin to accumulate, affecting everything that is inside, each plant, each animal, each insect, even the smallest being can be affected. • Since the mystery comes from you, every creature that is impacted by the mystery you produce will feel a feeling of loyalty towards you, the probability that they will not be loyal to you is close to zero, they may see you as a divine being, which is god to humans, at worst they will be of no use to you, but they will still refuse to harm you. • You have more security against Gaia and Alaya, they will be softer when it comes to judging whether to eliminate you, you can be much more reckless than the rest of the magicians and unless you do something extreme like endangering the entire planet or humanity itself, none attack, they will stay away and not bother you, they will watch you it is true, but they will never interfere with anything you do as long as you do not go too far, this includes that Alaya cannot prune the timeline where you are, you are an immutable being when it comes to damaging the timeline, the incineration of humanity or the Lostbelt will do nothing to you, you are protected from that by sending you to another time and space, you will be displaced through time to the point of origin where that timeline was damaged, the singularities, very well you can solve it or just observe while you continue with your investigation while you wait to be sent to another space-time, in case it is solved you will return to where you were before all this happened, and in case that timeline is doomed you will be sent to another timeline that is not in danger. • Your powers cannot be stolen, deleted, copied or anything like that, you will have constant protection against negative effects, in case something unexpected happens, you will be randomly teleported, your powers will return, eventually, they always return. • Without perfection, nothing you build is ever perfect, it never will be, nor are you perfect, perfection is a limiting factor, when perfection arrives there is nothing else, that is why you can break perfection being able to grow unlimitedly, there is no limit in terms of you can grow or improve pre-existing things because in principle there is no end for you, and although some may say that there must be an end, a point at which you will eventually reach perfection by not being able to improve anymore, they are wrong, as simple beings, his imagination, his head can only come to that conclusion, that there is a limit, but not you, the limits seen in mortal eyes do not apply, you see an infinite path, the root itself is infinite and constantly growing, because you cannot be equal to her and have no limits in your growth, without perfection, without limits, a perpetual growth.

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In the small, cloistered town of Ashbrook, shadows loomed over the life of a boy named Damien. His family had been shattered by a scandal that left deep scars on everyone involved. His mother, Claire, had been unfaithful, a betrayal that tore apart the fragile fabric of their family. Damien’s father, unable to bear the pain, packed his bags and left, marrying another woman and starting anew. Damien and his older sister, Emily, were left behind with their mother, struggling to piece together their broken lives.
Weekends with their father were supposed to be a refuge, but they quickly turned into a painful reminder of their fractured family. At first, these visits were filled with an awkward semblance of normalcy. Over time, however, Damien’s father grew more attached to his new family, his new children, while the bond with his firstborns withered. Damien watched his father drift away, the warmth in his eyes now reserved for his new life, leaving Damien feeling abandoned and alone.
The town of Ashbrook was unforgiving. People chose sides, and it seemed everyone had turned their backs on Claire and her children. Even Claire’s own family, except for her father, shunned them. Damien’s grandfather, ashamed and disappointed, sent money every month, but it came with a heavy sense of judgment. This monthly lifeline did little to ease the burden, and Damien felt no connection to the man who had indirectly rejected them.
Damien’s resentment festered. He hated the pitiful glances from townsfolk, the hushed whispers that ceased when he entered a room. Most of all, he hated his mother. Claire’s unyielding kindness and affection only deepened his bitterness. She tried to act as though nothing had happened, as though their lives hadn’t been torn apart by her actions.
“Damien, you need to understand how hard it’s been,” Claire would say, her voice cracking under the weight of unshed tears. “I’ve raised you and Emily on my own. You should be grateful.”
Grateful. The word felt like poison in Damien’s veins. How could he be grateful for a life built on lies and betrayal? He remembered the nights lying awake, listening to his mother sobbing in the next room, wishing for a life that could never be. His father's departure was a wound that never healed, a painful reminder of all they had lost.
But it wasn’t just the past that tormented Damien. It was the present, too. He often overheard his mother chatting on the phone with random men, her voice flirtatious and carefree. How could she even dare? Didn’t she know her children could hear her? It was disgusting. She was stupid.
Yet Claire acted like the hero after Dad left, pretending she didn’t want to speak ill of him while doing just that, subtly undermining him in every conversation. “Your father chose to leave us,” she’d say, voice tinged with bitterness. “He moved on so easily, started a new family like we meant nothing.”
“Don’t you see, Mom?” Damien spat one evening, his voice trembling with rage. “You destroyed everything. You talk about raising us alone like it’s some badge of honor, but it’s your fault we’re alone. It’s your fault Dad left.”
Claire’s face fell, the color draining from her cheeks. She opened her mouth to speak but found no words to counter the bitter truth in her son’s eyes. The silence between them grew heavy, filled with years of unresolved anger and hurt.
Emily, always the peacemaker, tried to bridge the chasm between her brother and their mother, but even she was growing weary. The weight of their fractured family was too much for her small shoulders to bear.
Damien sought refuge in his room, a sanctuary from the chaos that was his home. Books and music became his escape, worlds where he could lose himself and forget the mess his life had become. But even in those moments of respite, the anger simmered beneath the surface, threatening to consume him.
Damien's hatred for his mother and the situation she had created festered, growing with each passing day. He longed for the strength to leave Ashbrook, to escape the suffocating grip of his past. But he couldn’t abandon Emily, not while she still needed him.
One day, as the weight of his anger threatened to overwhelm him, Damien stood at the edge of the town's small, serene lake. The reflection in the water showed a boy aged beyond his years, burdened by a life he hadn’t chosen. He picked up a stone and hurled it into the water, watching the ripples spread out in ever-widening circles.
“Maybe one day,” he whispered to the empty air, “I’ll find a way out of this. But for now, I’m stuck. Stuck with the memories, the hatred, and the life you destroyed, Mom.”
As he turned to leave, the sun setting behind him, Damien knew that the road ahead would be long and hard. But in the depths of his anger, a small spark of determination flickered. He would survive this. He would rise above the ashes of his broken family, no matter how deep the scars ran.
Yet, the darkness in his heart grew. Damien started to become something else. Not a villain, not a perpetrator of evil deeds, but a boy harboring a darkness that clouded his view of the world. He saw humanity for what it was: flawed, deceitful, and hypocritical. In his mind, he was becoming evil, but it wasn't by choice. The world had shaped him this way. His intelligence told him he wasn't inherently bad, but circumstances had painted his soul with shadows.
He began to embrace the darkness within, letting it fuel his determination. The world wasn't beautiful in his eyes; it was a battlefield, and he would navigate it with the cunning and resilience of someone who knew its true face. Damien hated humans, he hated their frailty and deceit, but he knew he could outsmart them. In the end, it was the world that had made him hate it, and he would use that hatred to carve out his path.
Damien wasn't lost. He was simply finding a new way, a way defined by the darkness that the world had thrust upon him. He would survive, and he would thrive, but he would do it on his terms, with a heart that no longer saw the light.
Note: i played with some aspects to the people who know don't come across it... or you know what if they do.. i do not care.
What do you think about my life?
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Also... here is my "Life Philosophy" in short because it will take a lot of time if i wanted to fully express it.
I despise everything.
Compelled by "GOD" into an ugly world where beauty is marred by desires.
I... once a pure soul... exiled from the grace of nothingness, tarnished by the world's filth.

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What is a name really?
I had been asking myself that for the past few hours now. I realized that I couldn't continue on without a name, but I didn't even know where to start. I couldn't name myself just anything and hope to fit in, especially with how strange my appearance was to humans.
The Gothi who defended me (which I had learned was his title and not his actual given name), had also mentioned something about me being ‘Dragon-Kin’, which seemed to imply that there were more like me, at least biologically. That meant they had their own culture and beliefs that I would know nothing about if I ever met them. How would I ever fit in if I needed to? Would I even be accepted into their villages and towns or would I be shunned as some kind of madman?
I couldn't live like this, never having the answers I needed. I had to learn about them, and the rest of this wretched place, so I could at least have some idea of what to expect.
So I did what I always do: I consulted the journal. I pulled out the leather bound book and held the quill in my hand before considering what to ask first. My biggest concern was figuring out how to become used to this body, because it felt so wrong, but then I realized that if there was some kind of quick fix on how to become used to this strange body, the journal would have enlightened me earlier. So I decided not to disappoint myself. Instead, I'd ask something more simple to start out with.
What is my name?
Silence for a few moments, then my hand moved on its own once more, the journal responding. You were never given one. That was always for you to decide.
I sighed and stewed in that for a moment. I was back at square one again, but then I remembered what I had been told: I had been using the Journal wrong, hoping for it to answer all of my most vague and open ended questions. The journal might have been able to read my mind to a limited extent, but it couldn't always discern my desires and intentions. I had to be more specific.
So then maybe it would be better to put the cart before the horse in this one instance and see what he had to say about the dragon-kin before I chose a name, then maybe I could pick a good dragon-kin name that would help me fit in if I ever interacted with them.
What are Dragon-Kin? What are they like?
This time, the response was almost instantaneous. That is a complicated question. What would you like to know?
What is there to know?
Another immediate response, although this one almost seemed to be written out of frustration with how hard the quill touched the pages.
To answer that question, it would take days of nonstop writing, and more pages than you could possibly imagine. You need to be more specific.
He was right, of course: now that I thought about it, that question was impossibly open ended. Then what about their culture? What would I need to do to fit in?
Silence, for a minute. I was worried that I had asked a question he couldn't answer, but then my hand began to move once more. The Dragon-kin live along the warmer coasts of the world, and are prolific raiders, shrewd traders, and fearsome warriors. They are also slavers and worship Rhörldir as the supreme god instead of his brother Inir, who the humans worship as the supreme god. If you show strength and discipline, give glory to the father of dragonkind, and turn a blind eye to slavery, very few will question your authenticity as one of them, as to do so is a grave insult.
That didn't sit well with me. Is that why the humans in the village seem to hate me? They think I worship Rhörldir?
It is more complicated than that, The Journal replied, Rhörldir and Inir are trapped in an eternal struggle for dominance, but not the kind of struggle one would attribute to a war or a battle to the death. Think of it as a series of never ending, honorable duels and ploys that constantly shift the balance of power one way or another, but never fully tip the scales in any one way. It is the way of brothers to compete, after all.
That didn't really explain my question, I wrote back, will humans hate me because I worship Rhörldir, or because they think I'm a slaver?
No, The journal replied, Humans are static creatures compared to their other fair folk, like the elves and the dzedka, and tend to hate change. They see you as one intrusion of many into their sense of normalcy, and it doesn't help that there's apparently a bloodthirsty cult of natives attacking anyone who strays too far from the village. Once you prove yourself as a positive force in their loves, who you worship will be more of a source of jests and jokes, and you won't be attributed as a slaver. They are scared and desperate, as was the Høbding.
But will I fit in? I wrote down nervously, the cold feeling of anxiety settling in my stomach, Will I be seen as an equal, or simply be tolerated?
The journal was quiet for a long time, my hand not responding to its subconscious demands. So I simply sank back into the cool creek water, disappointed by the harsh reality of what the journal had confirmed: I needed to get home, wherever that was, because I wouldn't fit in here.
After a while, I felt an incredible urge to pick up the quill and write more, and soon I did. Immediately, the quill moved on its own, and the Journal replied. You will find those who will value you, it is written, but you must also understand that there are those who are not worth appeasing: they will only see you for what you are and not who you are. Have faith.
I set the quill down and looked into the woods, the shimmering of the midmorning dew and most in the scant rays of sunlight that pierced the canopy was oddly mesmerizing, and very peaceful. It helped me focus as I dug deeper into my thoughts.
Part of me wanted yet another excuse to reject all of this, to hope that all of this was just one bad dream that I'd eventually wake up from. But I knew that wasn't the case, and I was also worried that, if I had to make a life here, it'd be a pitiful and meaningless one where all I would ever be considered as would be a delusional outcast. What I really wanted was some piece of mind, but maybe I’d achieve that one day.
Now all I needed was a name. I had become distracted from my initial purpose. What name would I have? What is a dragon-kin name that would fit me?
There was a thoughtful pause, then an answer. I would say the name Varaxis suits you well. It means ‘to be illuminated’ in their oldest tongues.
I liked that name enough, so I figured I would keep it. I finally decided it was time to pull myself out of the creek and do something productive. I stepped out and laid in the sun for a bit to dry off, then once my scales were smooth but dry enough to have friction again, I put on my braies and leather trousers and slung the rest over my shoulder as I headed back to my room in the inn, ready to prepare to find the old Huskarl’s body.
Timeskip
The inn was quiet due to it still being midmorning, though there were a few individuals sitting around a table near the back. Æstrid bowed to me as I entered. Morning, M'lord, how can I be of service?”
“Just looking for some rations for the journey into the woods,” I said, “I'm going to find Huskarl Kothtal’s body for the Høbding so he can receive a proper burial, or so I've been told. Is there anywhere I could get a few water skins? I have food, just not enough clean water.”
“Aye, the tanner’s stall and the tailor, down by the other end of the creek, should have what you're looking for,” she explained as she began doing up some onions and chopping garlic for a stew and tossing it into a pot over the hearth behind the bar, “and if I may, M'lord, you may want to get some warmer clothes: the spring is still bitterly cold in the mornings, especially after a good rain like we had for a few days before you arrived. I'm sure the tailor could find a coat and a mantle that will fit over your armor.”
I actually hadn't thought about that, but she was right: it was too damn cold for me to be walking around with just a gambeson on. “Thank you, I appreciate the advice,” I said before digging a coin out of my bag awkwardly and tossing it to her, “You take care.”
“Blessings from the gods be upon ye,” she called back to me as I entered my room, “and I wish nothing but luck upon you, M'lord.”
I walked into the room, set my pack down, and examined everything. I still had the mace and shield, but I decided to leave those: they would weigh me down, and I preferred the longsword anyway. Then it was simply a matter of getting dressed and getting everything I needed before I headed over to the tanner and the tailor for what I needed. The idea of a coat and a mantle seemed pretty enticing actually, and maybe I could get something a little more warm and protective to wear under my ragged old breastplate than just a worn and patched gambeson.
The villagers still seemed wary of me, although they were less straightforward about it to not offend me. They always scurried away when I walked by, ending conversations early or switching chores mid-work to get away. And when someone was doing something they couldn't put down so easily, like the blacksmith who seemed to have been repairing some farm equipment, they refused to make eye contact with me and kept their heads down, as if they were hoping and praying I'd move along.
That actually made me a bit angry: I understood the journal’s reasoning from earlier, but it was no excuse to be rude to me. So I decided to see how far they would go to avoid me, maybe see if I could change their minds in the process.
I approached the blacksmith, and I could practically hear him hiss a string of curses under his breath. He dunked an unfinished scythe into the quench bucket and tried to walk back into his storeroom, but I raised my clawed hand to signal to him. “Blacksmith! Might I have a word?”
He froze and looked over his shoulder before sighing and attempting to straighten out his red wool shirt and dust off his black apron. “Aye, how can I help you, M’lord?” He said, eyeing me warily.
“I was in the market for some new armor, and I figured you'd be able to forge me some while I'm out completing a task for the Høbding,” I said, racking my brain for what I'd need. Maybe chainmail? Plate armor was probably both expensive and heavy, and while I did have a decent bit of money I didn't feel like spending it all on armor when I'd need money for room and board, food, and maybe even a horse. I had no desire to walk everywhere, so a horse would be ideal. “What would a good hauberk cost me?”
The old blacksmith sputtered and bounced on the balls of his feet. “I- I'm just a humble toolsmith M'lord,” he said, “I don't make good armor, maybe the scant mail for some of the frimann, but nothing someone like you would want, M'lord.”
“I'm not looking for much, just some decent armor to replace this old, dented breastplate with,” I insisted. I unstrapped it and presented it to him. It was beginning to rust on the edges and stain my gambeson, and there were plenty of dents in the armor. “You wouldn't happen to have any chainmail in the back? I'd pay handsomely.” I pulled out a few gold coins from my pack and showed them to him, at least fifteen of them. He gulped, eyes focused on the coins, and for a moment I thought he might crack. But no, he held firm against my offers. “I couldn't, M'lord, I don't know how to design armor for you,” he said, “you're too different and too big, so yer measurements would be different than what I could work with.”
“Shame, I was willing to pay more,” I said, ready to put the coins away, but he wasn't finished.
“Wait, M'lord,” he said, “th- there's a dragon-kin armorsmith in Ljosavatnsskaro, with a big forge along the docks. Apparently he makes armor for some of the dragon-kin warriors who raid further west, and he was the one who Kothtal purchased his armor from before being chosen as Huskarl for the previous Høbding. That smith should be able to get you what you need.”
I thought about that for a moment. The idea of dealing with a dragon-kin still unnerved me, but I wasn't beyond the irony of that feeling since I was trying to get these villagers to accept me as well. Maybe it was time I let go and took a risk, to see if I could fit in with them when I had a chance.
Maybe Kothtal could teach me, maybe he'd be willing to teach me about the Dragon-kin once I rescued him, if he was even still alive that is. I'd have to pursue that once I figured out where he was, and if he was dead or not.
“Thank you for the information, blacksmith, what is your name?”
“I am Æirik, M'lord, and I'm the local toolsmith. I wish I could be of more use.”
“Nonsense,” I said, tossing him a coin, “take care, blacksmith: I must be on my way, but I hope you won't be as anxious around me in the future, I won't bite.”
He turned red as a tomato when I called him out, but didn't respond. I nodded to him and walked away, heading for the tanner and the trailer soni could get the rest of what I needed and get going on this quest.

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