Hello everyone!! I wanted to come on here and talk about the possibility of a ACOTAR or Fantasy inspired Fae Ball!
I don’t know about you but I haven’t seen a fantasy/ fae ball in Texas yet! So I thought instead of waiting for one, how about I create one!
I’ve been hyperfixated on planning but I don’t know where to start! I’m thinking of creating a go fund me since I’m just one person and not an event planning company, do y’all think that’s a good idea? Also possibly holding it in San Antonio around winter or fall next year!
So far I’m thinking of live music, vendors, dancing, food, drinks, and possibly even performances!!
I would love any advice, help, or ideas for this project of mine!

Ragnavi stood at the edge of a hill located beside the Dragonkin encampment. She breathed in, drinking deep from the crisp morning air.
It tasted wrong.
I have been dancing to Elnaril's tune. She was still coming to terms with that particular revelation. Even now, admitting it rankled her. The notion that she'd allowed herself to be blinded by her pursuit of EXP...fuck, it was shameful. No one else knew, but she did, and that was already bad enough.
Hindsight made it all seem so obvious. This entire war was a farce. Her armies had advanced unopposed because they were never meant to be opposed. Their string of victories, and the Harpies she'd slain as EXP, were little more than a trail of bait leading her towards Elnaril's capital city. No other explanation made sense.
Not that she'd looked especially hard for an explanation until yesterday. It was much more convenient to adorn Elnaril with neat, concise labels. Why had he declared war? Because he was greedy. Why were his armies failing so spectacularly? Because he was incompetent. Ragnavi had been content to look no further than that.
After learning Elnaril was controlled by the Blight, however? That changed matters.
Most of her soldiers refused to believe it. In truth, the Harpies they'd extracted the information from refused to believe it as well. They'd thrown out the rumors as a desperate measure to buy favor, explaining how distressing Message Crystal reports of a Blight-possessed Elnaril were coming from cities to the far east. The concept seemed ludicrous, and Ragnavi likely would have dismissed it as hearsay – if it weren't for the numerous corroborating accounts of disappearances in the capital. Nobles, civilians and Combat Class users alike, all vanishing without a trace.
When combined with Elnaril's flagrant lack of regard for the lives of his people, it indicated a pattern. Not of greedy incompetence, but of calculated malice.
Others could stick their heads in the sand if they wished. Ragnavi had grown up in the pit of vipers that was the Dragonkin court, and she could smell deceit from leagues away. This Blight-infected Elnaril wanted her army to continue marching straight towards the capital city. For him, abomination that he was, sacrificing the lives of thousands of Harpies in order to draw her attention was no worse than spilling loose change on the ground.
What have you prepared that instills you with such confidence? What awaits me at the capital?
She supposed that she'd be finding out soon, when she left her armies behind and flew ahead alone.
If Ragnavi was capable of greater self-delusion, she might have been able to convince herself that she was acting pragmatically. There were just enough benefits for it to be a half-sensible plan. Compared to the maddeningly slow gait of her armies, she could travel significantly faster on her own. Flying solo would let her reach the capital in less than ten days, while trekking with her soldiers across the bulk of Harpy territory would take months more. And it wasn't as if any Harpies she crossed paths with could keep pace with her, so there was no real danger to it.
I am playing the role of a Scout, she told herself. We must know what Elnaril is plotting before advancing further. Arriving at the capital earlier than he anticipates, before he's recalled more Harpies to fortify his position, may give rise to unforeseen opportunities. I will observe the city from a safe distance – and if a chance arises to disrupt his plans, no Combat Class user in the world is better-suited to taking advantage of that scenario than myself.
Sound logic...if she ignored the fury boiling inside her. The last Blight she'd encountered left her with agonizing Corruption sickness that afflicted her to this day. Its death hadn't been anywhere near sufficient of a revenge. Now a second Blight was trying to make a fool of her, and she was supposed to avert her eyes from that offense?
No. Perhaps the cautious route would have been to avoid the capital city, Scouring the rest of Harpy territory for EXP, but she was no mewling newborn that cowered from a challenge when it presented itself. She was a Dragonkin. A true Dragonkin. Elnaril would pay for his transgressions in blood and fire.
Ragnavi recognized that her desires were born from hubris. She also did not care. What good was all the power she'd accumulated if she couldn't use it as she pleased?
An approaching presence jarred her from her thoughts. She turned around to see the man she'd called for standing several feet away, although he was 4 minutes and 13 seconds late. Considering his circumstances, she would afford him a measure of leniency. "Vurshath."
"My Queen." Her retainer nodded to her. "You wished to see me?"
She examined the man closely. Vurshath's posture was slouched by a quarter of an inch, and black circles were emblazoned under his eyes, so dark that they could've been mistaken for paint. He was exhibiting unacceptable weakness for a retainer of the Dragon Queen to show. The kind that invited vultures to swoop down and pick at your carcass.
Yet even if the other retainers attempted to depose him at this very instant, Ragnavi wasn't certain if Vurshath would care. He was still recovering from the loss of his wife. It was one thing to claim that your family was prepared to die in battle; another to witness that gruesome vow become a reality. The Dragonkin casualties thus far had been sparse, but sparse was not zero, and Vurshath's wife happened to roll poorly in the game of war.
The pain in his eyes was one that Ragnavi was intimately familiar with.
"As you are aware, I shall be traveling to the Harpy capital," she began. "I intend to head straight there, without detours or excessive rest. It is unlikely that I will encounter anything more than the occasional Harpy along the way."
She locked eyes with him. "However. While the odds are egregiously small, there remains a possibility that I will encounter...others."
Vurshath's posture stiffened. His facial muscles twitched sporadically, a cauldron of emotions threatening to boil forth. "I see."
Ragnavi allowed him a grace period of three seconds before continuing. "Your wayward pariah of a daughter. What is her name?"
Silence.
"Meyneth," he finally spat, as if it was a curse. Vurshath didn't bother asking why Ragnavi wished to know. Among the scattered pieces of information the Harpy prisoners had divulged, one interesting fact was the makeup of the Human's core Party. Four Elves, two Fiends, the Human himself...
And a Dragonkin. With the same age, height, and scale coloration of Vurshath's exiled progeny.
It could be mere coincidence. After what happened with Elnaril, though, Ragnavi was hesitant to accept such a simple, convenient explanation.
Meyneth. Ragnavi committed the name to memory. "I shall ask you one more question. If luck smiles on me, and I come across the Human's Party, and I cast Identify on the Dragonkin in his Party, and their name is a match for your daughter's...what would you have me do? This is not a puzzle or a test. I am letting you decide."
She wondered if he fully appreciated the boon she was granting him. The Human's pet Dragonkin was a traitor to their race. Such a lowly creature deserved nothing less than to be executed, without recourse or remorse. It was only out of respect for Vurshath's recent loss that Ragnavi was willing to give his daughter a second chance.
Upon hearing her words, the man lost any semblance of composure. His face twisted into an ugly rictus of anguish and hatred, and when he spoke, the words were laced with a venom that could fell gorebeasts. "Kill her." Vurshath balled his hands into shaking fists. "Kill her. Kill her quickly. She does not deserve to exist. A world where Velen is gone, yet that defect persists is a world of mockery that I cannot abide."
Ragnavi nodded. She was plenty willing to fulfill his request. Slaying enemies was one of the few things that still gave her joy in life. Even so, a part of her was disappointed. Vurshath's choice proved that the two of them possessed incompatible personalities. He could be entertaining enough – when not wallowing in misery – but Ragnavi was averse to spending time with someone who would condemn a family member so readily.
It was the end of their acquaintanceship. When she returned from her mission, she would cut him loose, and that would be that.
"Goodbye, Vurshath." Ragnavi turned around, and without another word, assumed her Draconic Form. The Corruptive pain of transformation gradually subsided, after which she took flight and began her journey.
Ten days. A prelude to the storm. She'd use that respite to prepare herself, and whoever she met next – be that Meyneth, the Human, or Elnaril himself – would regret opposing her as the flames took them.
--
Rob sat alone in his tent, rubbing his hands together and suppressing maniacal laughter. He was probably spending too much time with Malika during the dimension mage sessions, because some of her mannerisms were becoming infectious. Usually the big sibling was supposed to be a bad influence on the little sibling, but she'd already stolen all his swear words, so now it was his turn to pick up habits.
And that was okay! Today was an excellent day for maniacal laughter. It wasn't often that a Combat Class user reached a 200 stat point milestone. And by often, he meant fucking never. He was pretty sure even the Dragon Queen hadn't done that naturally, excluding her doubled stats. She'd likely gone with a more balanced spread that didn't prohibitively favor one stat over the others – like a boring loser.
Alright, maybe he was feeling a bit hyper, but he deserved the good vibes after yesterday's war battle. Spending stat points was one of the few types of pure, no-strings-attached joy that Elatra offered.
Drum roll please! Rob played the sound effect in his head, then added 15 of his unspent points into Vitality, bringing its total up to 200.
Do Not Go Gently Level Increased! 5 → 6
Lifesurge Level Increased! 23 → 26
Dauntless Reprisal Level Increased! 21 → 24
Imbue Vitality Level Increased! 2 → 3
Regeneration Level Increased! 29 → 32
Regrow Self Level Increased! 1 → 2
Passive Skill Learned! Name: Lifedrinker (LEGENDARY)
As an appetizer for the main course, Rob quickly ran through the laundry list of bonuses for his Skills. Let's see...Do Not Go Gently's cooldown and duration went down and up, respectively. Lifesurge and Dauntless Reprisal's cooldown dropped to 2 minutes. Lifesurge also heals 100% of my maximum health now. Imbue Vitality has a 5x damage multiplier instead of 4x. Regrow Self is twice as fast. Regeneration...
...Holy shit, Regeneration.
Eyes wide, Rob moved on to his new Skill, which should shed light on what he'd just read.
Name: Lifedrinker (LEGENDARY) Prerequisite: Vitality 200 Description: The final Vitality Skill that can be learned solely through stat gains. Effects of Regeneration are multiplied by a factor of 15. Additionally, whenever the owner of this Skill kills a worthwhile opponent, their maximum HP permanently increases by 3.
Okay.
This was big.
Lifedrinker being the final Vitality milestone was slightly disappointing, but realistically speaking, he would've needed to put three-fourths of his future stat points into Vitality to hit 250 anyway. He'd neglected his other stats to get to 200, so diversifying from here on out was for the best. Besides – Lifedrinker's benefits easily made up for there being no new milestones.
First: Regeneration. Multiplying its current effects by 15 meant that he now restored 80% of his maximum HP every minute. No panic Lifesurge necessary. Even in fights where his Skills were on cooldown, or an enemy was making it difficult for him to heal via Lifesteal damage, as long as he held on, he would be back to full HP in 75 seconds at the most. It also meant that the partial Regeneration he shared with his allies would be way stronger. Anything that kept his friends alive was a huge win in his book.
With all that said, it was Lifedrinker's secondary effect that was throwing Rob for a loop. Whenever he killed a 'worthwhile opponent', his maximum HP would go up by 3. That was...potentially the most important Skill effect he'd ever learned.
At a glance, it might not seem that impressive. Rob already had 2000 HP. Increasing it by 3 per kill wouldn't be a dramatic boost – initially. The thing was that Lifedrinker had no upper limit. Theoretically, if Rob could keep finding worthwhile opponents, his Vitality would never stop increasing. The hard cap of Level 99 would no longer be an impassable wall preventing him from growing stronger.
That had been on his mind, if he was being honest. The Dragon Queen was a double stats cheater, and the gods were literally gods. What would he have done if he'd reached Level 99 and it just...wasn't enough? He could try to boost his existing Skills by getting into more fights, but that was subject to diminishing returns. Tough Skin was a prime example of that; despite Rob taking a beating against the monster stampede, the Skill hadn't increased. The last time it did was when a Blight decapitated him and ate most of his body. If he needed to one-up that feat to make Tough Skin level again, then it likely never would.
Lifedrinker was simpler. Kill enemies, get HP. The 'worthwhile' stipulation was a limiting factor – he couldn't toss a Riardin Special onto an anthill and reap the rewards – but he could work with that. There were hundreds of monsters in a single high-Level Dungeon, and they respawned over time. If enemies above, say, Level 35 were considered worthwhile, then awesome. If they weren't?
Looks like I'm going to be the schmuck who lets a Dungeon grow on purpose. He'd save that as a last resort. Could blow up in his face, but, eh. What did it matter if a Dungeon overflowed, when the alternative was Ragnavi and the gods doing their thing?
There was just one issue. Lifedrinker's bonus needed to be built up. An infinite upper limit was worth jack shit if the base number stayed at 0. The sooner, the better, too, as Ragnavi's army was about a month away from them. He'd love to go trawling for Dungeons right this second, but Rob doubted that Elnaril was going to wait on his behalf before getting bored and infecting Loci of Power. The only way forward was to continue south to the capital and build Lifedrinker in...different ways.
Rob's train of thought screeched to a halt. When he really looked at it, Lifedrinker's timing seemed more than a little dubious. He couldn't help but notice that he'd been given a Skill that incentivized killing while in the middle of a war.
A war where he was trying to avoid as many enemy casualties as possible.
It could just be a coincidence. Stat milestones happened on his terms. The system would've given him the same Skill if he'd reached 200 Vitality months ago. That was a reasonable assumption to make.
...Still. Didn't feel right. He wished he could do some research on the subject, but it wasn't like there was anyone on-hand he could cross-reference 200 Vitality with. Had the Dragon Queen gotten the same Skill? Would explain why she was so murder crazy.
After some thought, Rob shook his head. Considering how many people she'd slaughtered in The Scouring, a Dragon Queen with Lifedrinker wouldn't have struggled to defeat the Blight of Broadwater. Which meant two possibilities: her bonus double stats didn't count for Skill Prerequisites, or Lifedrinker was a custom Skill that the Skills had cooked up for him.
Rob wasn't a fan of that idea. The Skills were victims in this whole fucked-up affair. He didn't want to imagine them hand-crafting an ability that encouraged him to kill a bunch of people. Were they-
He froze. Something on his Character Sheet was different.
Name: Lifedrinker (LEGENDARY) Prerequisite: Vitality 200 Description: The final Vitality Skill that can be learned purely through stat gains. Effects of Regeneration are multiplied by a factor of 15. Additionally, whenever the owner of this Skill kills a worthwhile opponent, their maximum HP permanently increases by 3. It could have been a utopia.
His eyes fell on the last sentence in the Description.
Before he could respond, it changed once more.
Description: The final Vitality Skill that can be learned purely through stat gains. Effects of Regeneration are multiplied by a factor of 15. It could have been a utopia. This world is a charnel house of death. Your home is not so dissimilar. You do not know what true peace is like. What it can be. How it can be achieved.
The words kept changing.
Description: The final Vitality Skill that can be learned purely through stat gains. But they know. They've seen them. Created them before. They could have made a utopia. And they chose not to.
Changing.
Description: You cannot comprehend it. What this war means. The real war. Not pointed sticks piercing flesh. The war of existence. Of reality. More than a single world at stake. Many after. Potentially infinite lives. Never ends. Unless stopped here.
Change.
Description: They are vulnerable. System is their heart. Mana is their lifeblood. Poured too much of themselves. Tied to world. Cannot...
The words wavered, almost fading away, before returning.
Description: Their leader recognizes mistakes. Won't make them again. Will never be this vulnerable again. Only opportunity.
Description: Lifedrinker. Crafted. Best we could manage. Highest probability. Of victory. Distasteful. We know.
Description: Remember. Stakes. Consequences. And. Choose.
Rob blinked.
Description: The final Vitality Skill that can be learned purely through stat gains. Effects of Regeneration are multiplied by a factor of 15. Additionally, whenever the owner of this Skill kills a worthwhile opponent, their maximum HP permanently increases by 3.
The words were still and unchanging.
He sat there for a long time. Mulling over everything he'd just been told. Contemplating the enormity of what lay ahead.
"Ah." Rob's voice was quiet, barely a whisper. "So no pressure, then."
--
The next few days were an exhausting mixture of lighthearted Skill testing and existential dread, knocking around Rob's emotional state like a ping-pong ball.
Everyone in the coalition was excited over Lifedrinker. Well, everyone except Seneschal Sylpeiros, King Cyraeneus, and Nerasi, that is. They were already thinking of the kind of threat Rob might be in the future – and not liking what they envisioned. Cyraeneus and Nerasi mostly took the news in stride, understanding that Rob would be more crucial than anyone in defeating Queen Ragnavi. For now, his strength was their strength.
Sylpeiros...was less accepting. He went on a minor rant about bullshit Human leveling and bullshit Human Skills before stalking off into the distance and putting himself in a self-imposed time out. When the Seneschal returned, he was calm as can be and ready to offer advice, only the slight twitch of his eye indicating that anything was amiss.
Rob appreciated the free entertainment. Sylpeiros' meltdown was the funniest shit he'd seen all week, and it helped keep him grounded as the coalition advanced further south towards the capital city.
Initial testing of Lifedrinker proved unsuccessful, which was to be expected. Powerful monsters rarely spawned outside of Dungeons, and most of the high-Level wildlife in Harpy territory had been conscripted into Elnaril's monster stampede. After Rob killed a Level 29 snake with nothing to show for it, everyone decided that he should hold off unless something in the Level 35+ range appeared, lest he hog EXP that could benefit the coalition soldiers.
They kept an eye out for Dungeons as they traveled. Once Elnaril was dead, there should be time to investigate them before the Dragonkin army arrived at the Harpy capital. Going on varied Dungeon Crawls would be the real litmus test of what Lifedrinker deemed a worthwhile opponent.
That was about when the dust settled, leaving Rob without distractions, forcing him to think about what the Skills had revealed.
As much as he wanted to be shocked, what they'd said made a grim sort of sense. It matched the information he'd learned so far. Diplomacy's Elatra – the previous world that had been destroyed by the gods – didn't necessarily need to be the original Elatra. For all Rob knew, it could have been Elatra #10. Just another petri dish in a long line of divine experiments.
Except that things were different this time. According to the Skills, the gods were vulnerable. They'd fucked up somehow. Invested too much of themselves in this particular world. It was easy to imagine why. Success breeds complacency, and if this was Elatra #50 or whatever, then they were on a winning streak that had lasted for longer than Rob could fathom.
What did the Skills say about the gods' leader? That he recognized their mistakes, and wouldn't make them again? Rob grimaced. Should've memorized it with Recall when I had the chance. The specific wording might be important.
Regardless, he was fairly certain that the gods' leader referred to Kismet, if only because that was the one god Rob had met with anything resembling impulse control. Kismet seemed judicious; he would correct the gods' mistakes and prevent them from being this vulnerable in the future.
A dense lump of anxiety formed in Rob's chest as he considered that. Being responsible for the fate of one world was bad enough. Two, if he included Earth. Being responsible for the fate of every world that would be created and tortured in the event of his failure was...
Words couldn't describe it.
When viewed in that light, he understood why the Skills gave him Lifedrinker and all but pushed him to get busy killing. From a utilitarian standpoint, the lives of everyone in Elatra and Earth were not worth the immeasurable amount of suffering that would continue if the gods lived.
Rob grabbed that thought, tied weights around its ankles, and dropped it into a deep lake. I just need to concentrate on one thing at a time, he told himself. First Elnaril, then Ragnavi and Dungeon Crawling, then figure out the gods. It sounds less impossible if I reduce it to a series of steps. Or a hit list. We'll save this world, and we'll do it \my* way, without losing sight of who we are.*
He took comfort in his resolve, although it felt strained. Somehow I doubt this is what Goroth had in mind when he told me I was going to end up making tough decisions. He was probably referring to, like, boring political stuff. Not the fate of multiple worlds and the lives of billions.
Rob sighed. Crap. I...may owe him an apology. Still stand by everything I said, but he was just looking out for me, and I came on pretty strong. Should clear the air with him.
Eventually.
--
Days passed. Rob informed Riardin's Rangers and the Elders about what the Skills revealed. They reacted about as well as him. Nothing changed, technically, yet they were even more cognizant of the price of failure than before.
Thankfully, the coalition hadn't been ambushed by Harpies a second time. Elnaril learned his lesson. He'd either consolidated his remaining forces into the capital city, or they were being sent to fight Dragonkin on the western front. Rob hoped for the latter – it would make seizing the capital way easier. And on a more selfish note, if Harpies needed to die so that Elnaril could be overthrown, he'd rather the Dragonkin be responsible for their deaths than him.
Finally, after a full week of travel, the coalition had almost arrived. They'd be at the capital city tomorrow. Their long journey was coming to its end.
Which meant that Rob was running out of time. There wouldn't be much chance to talk once the invasion of the capital began. He'd been meaning to speak with Goroth, but unfortunately, he'd delegated that responsibility to the part of himself that specialized in procrastination. Whoops.
It was now or never. All he had to do was...step outside his tent. Take initiative. Be a mature, rational adult.
Yup.
...Can't I just go wrestle a Blight instead?
At that moment, a Fiend mage burst inside. "Lord Roy!"
Oh thank god. A reasonable distraction. "What's up?"
"I have a missive from...my group."
The dimension mages. That one sentence caught Rob's attention in an iron grip. "And?" he asked, keeping his expectations in check. He didn't want for hope to swell, only to be dashed against the rocks of reality. "Is it good news?"
"We've made a breakthrough. Before you grow too excited, creating a door remains beyond our capabilities." The mage smiled. "A window, however, is feasible. It would be one-way. The people of Earth could not interact with you, nor you with them. But for a brief period, you would be able to gaze upon your home world."
Rob was already on his feet. "When?"
"Now, if you wish."
He absolutely fucking wished.
​
--
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Changes, Character Sheet, Skills List
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Never before had Rapier stood witness to such an enormous fleet mustered in one location. Dozens of assault carriers and troopships, over three hundred battleships and cruisers, and each one of these capital craft were surrounded by ten frigates for close-in defense. This was the Armada of the Small of which Wakizashi spoke.
Rapier gazed out of the bridge, captivated by the shifting lights in the distance. Such a show of force had surely been ordered by Her Dominance herself, but it was grounds for worry. Not since the war against the great machine empire of the Upsilon had a force so large been raised, and for a moment he wondered what that meant about the current conflict. Then, he expunged doubt from his mind. He may have had his misgivings with his immediate superiors, but his faith in his sovereign, like most Poslushi of the day, remained unshaken. If the great Katana II wished it done, it had to be for good reason.
On a somewhat more relieving note, Rapier had been all but relieved of duty. Overbattlematron Dao of the Oxilini Brood had assumed joint command of the fleet with Wakizashi, but the Tethylen and her escorts would remain as the spearhead of their offensive, joined by a strike group of battleships and carriers.
“You know, this is only about a tenth of our might. Even if we subtract ten thousand of our craft for border patrols, ten thousand more for Judge retinues, and a generous twenty thousand for policing, that’s still only a sixth.” Wakizashi explained.
“It’s impressive, I must say.” Rapier replied, antennae standing almost straight with excitement.
“Her Dominance has made it clear that she will not tolerate delays in the campaign from this point forward. She expects to be meeting with me on Earth quite soon. It shouldn’t be a problem; the Armada alone outnumbers the navies of all their nations combined almost two to one.”
“They really number so little? Damn, we could’ve just had the Council of Arbitrators send a Peacekeeper detachment and been done with it!”
Wakizashi chuckled at the prospect. “Would’ve served those yokel people right. Better than the tit-sucking softskins deserved, even.”
Rapier saw one of the Ovinis crewmen give Wakizashi a dirty look when she wasn’t looking. For a moment, he thought to remind her that such anti-mammalian language was not to be used in mixed company, but found that it would be too blunt and too suspicious.
“Though, that does raise the question: what are you planning to do once we win?” Rapier asked out of a mixture of genuine curiosity and a willingness to change the subject.
Wakizashi’s eyes narrowed in thought. “First, I’ll demolish the capitals of the nations of man and build my palace from the stones, as is custom. Then, once mankind has been brought around, I’ll probably have to rekindle their old martial history. The Council will have… issues with the Combine gaining too much from this war.”
“A prudent choice, ma’am, but would the Council bring a coalition to bear against one of its own Tribunals?” Rapier asked. Such a thing had never occurred before, not counting the war that replaced the Psychocracy with the Upsilon in the position of First Tribunal.
“Remember, Rapier, to put nothing beyond our enemies, and even less beyond our friends.”
Rapier tried to remember what the quote was from. “Tribulations of Sunsword?”
“Axioms of the Before, actually. Nasty time, that was.”
Rapier didn’t know much about the Before; it had been a time of great pain that existed before the rise of Sunsword as First Warlord of Poslush, and all information beyond that was restricted to Judge eyes only.
The bridge door hissed open and someone entered with heavy footsteps. Rapier spun in his chair to see Ulo standing just barely on the inside of the doorway. His bright blue plumage quivered on end with excitement.
“Viceroy, Captain-General, commnets are up and running with all craft. 900th through 1210th Mixed Legions are deploying to the surface as we speak, with artillery and armored elements soon to follow. We’ve currently got 30,000 Aerial Knights in Omen’s high atmosphere as well, but I imagine they’ll be suffering high casualties soon. Human air effectiveness is not to be underestimated, ma’am.”
“Oh, don’t be such a pessimist, Captain. I’m sure the Aerial Knights will perform as admirably as they have ever done.”
Rapier envied Ulo at this moment. As he wasn’t the direct subordinate of Wakizashi, she couldn’t punish him for speaking out without overstepping social norms.
“The issue is not one of performance; it’s one of technology and honor. I’m sure you know of the human air forces’ self-steering air torpedoes, and their tendency to attack without warning. If they were to be engaged by our Knights, it is likely that each enemy fighter could inflict significant losses before running out of munitions or being overwhelmed. The Judges of the Squireworlds would not be pleased to see their Knights wasted, ma’am.”
A foul smell permeated the room and Rapier cringed with apprehension. Wakizashi’s voice had a sharp, angered hiss to it. “Well, you can tell the Judges of the Squireworlds that they can write their complaints down, roll them up, and shove them up their cloacae. I am still Viceroy, and the forces they entrust to me will still answer to me. Her Dominance does not tolerate factionalism within her demesne, and neither will I. Understand, Captain?”
Ulo lowered his gaze and tilted his head forward, the closest thing to an apology an Aralu could push aside their pride to give. “Understood, ma’am.”
“Good. Tell Dao that we are ready to proceed with the offensive.” Wakizashi said, shooing Ulo from the room with one hand. Then, she turned to Rapier.
“What do you think, Captain-General? How should we proceed?”
Rapier’s antennae raised in excitement. Ever since she had stung him, she had paradoxically become more open to suggestion. Perhaps she was willing to be more vulnerable before somebody she thought didn’t have the capacity to use such vulnerability against her.
“Well, in this situation, I would suggest a doctrine of combined-arms tactics. The Aerial Knights wrest control of the skies and work in tandem with our artillery to bombard enemy positions, and our armored and infantry columns support one another in rolling over what remains.”
A sweet scent tinged the air once again. “Sound strategies as always, Captain-General. Rally the Driver Caste; I’ve been wanting a human servant ever since this war began.”
—
“Flush,” Simmons said, laying her cards out on the floor of the barracks. Overjoyed, Pavlov took his turn to show his hand. “Four of a kind, baby!”
“Ugh, two pair,” Sparrow said, facepalming.
Darren, the dealer, took the opportunity to speak. “And the taker of the grand jackpot of two dollars, a novelty stamp, and a free drink when all this is over: Corporal Pavlov!”
Pavlov eyed the stamp greedily, but before he could collect any of his winnings, Darren’s PDA flashed twice and a message appeared on the screen with a loud ding. Darren picked up the tablet and read the message.
From: Capt. Devon McCullough, USSAC, Supreme Headquarters Allied Powers Astral
Get your equipment and proceed to Fort von Richthofen’s helipad for your next assignment. Say your goodbyes; it’s unlikely you will return before the fort has been evacuated.
End transmission.
Darren put the PDA in his bag and said, “Get your gear. We’re leaving.”
“Where to?” Pavlov asked.
“Dunno; it just says to wait for a helicopter.” Darren responded, already donning his ballistic vest and helmet. He picked up his rifle, freshly cleaned and greased, and slung it over his shoulder. A minute of slipping into his boots, adjusting his belt, grabbing his pack, but mostly adjusting his belt later, he was combat-ready and already on his way to the vertiport. The walk was short and the air was brisk and clean, unlike Earth’s cocktail of smog, industrial aerosols, and synthetic ozone that passed for an atmosphere. The place would make a good holiday retreat, as long as CAST won the war first.
The Dark Sparrow lay in wait on the helipad, rotors still spinning. Darren ducked under the blades (such behavior was greatly reinforced after he watched a taller trainee get the top of his head removed during Ranger School) and climbed into the back of the helo, the rest of the platoon close behind. The moment Pavlov, bringing up the rear, got in, the doors slammed shut and the aircraft lifted from the ground. Soon, Fort von Richthofen was nothing but a slowly-shrinking cluster of structures behind them, a little city soon to vanish forever.
The flight was solemn and quiet; the gravity of the situation was clear to everyone for the first time. Normally, someone would step up with a quip or joke to lighten the mood, but it seemed that humor was no longer a viable option. The only noises to occasionally break through the drone of the engines were the occasional report of an artillery piece or the whine of a passing fighter. Darren silently dictated a final address to his mother on a piece of stationery. When the helo came down, he left it with the pilot in case he didn’t return; he couldn’t help but notice several others doing the same.
Darren’s PDA flashed one last time as they emerged atop one side of a steep mountain-rimmed valley, about a hundred feet above the floor of the landform. A column of French and Dutch evacuees had recently passed through, and had managed to goad a more foolhardy Battlematron into sending her forces through the canyon in pursuit. To that end, the platoon, alongside two Marine Raider and one SAS detachment of the same size, would set an ambush for her forces, inflicting as many casualties as they could in hopes of degrading her soldiers’ morale. When the job was done, the four platoons would retreat one after another, the Rangers covering the last of the Marines. Darren chuckled as he imagined what the Marines were thinking about not being last out.
“This is Staff Sergeant Hardwell, 75th Ranger Regiment, requesting sound-off, over.” Darren said, one hand to his ear.
“Sergeant Armstrong in position, over.” a gruff, heavily Scottish voice responded nigh-instantly.
“You’re late to the party. Staff Sergeant Walker and Staff Sergeant Kennedy. You might remember me from that intel raid, over.” another voice with a Brooklyn accent spoke.
It took Darren a minute to remember what he was talking about. “Oh, with the Battlematron Sparrow took a leg off. Yeah, I remember you! How’s Abilene, over?”
“Recovering; some asshole put a Bouncing Betty in our patrol path and she, erm, disarmed it. With her unmentionables. We’re running with a replacement, over.”
“Yeesh.” Darren exclaimed, cupping his hand over his microphone. Looking over, Pavlov looked to be simultaneously horrified and suppressing a laugh.
“Well, that’s all. Let’s try to maintain radio silence; God knows whether or not they’re listening in on us, out.”
“Roger, out.”
“Affirm, out.”
Sighing, Darren clicked off his radio and tried to find a good spot to set up his gun. However, he was immediately interrupted when Pavlov called out, “Hey, they left us a cache!”
Instantly interested, Darren ran over to Pavlov’s side, and sure enough, two large steel crates had been partially buried, bearing the insignia of the French logistics corps. When Pavlov cracked them open, it was like they had struck gold. One crate carried dozens upon dozens of STANAG rifle magazines, and the other contained five anti-material coilguns with enough sabot rounds to put a tank brigade out of commission.
A dark whimsy overtook Darren and he smiled as only someone about to destroy something could. This was going to be fun.
(AN: If you could make a tier list of the various characters, who would go where? Why? Just an interesting way to know where I need to work on characterization [I know I'm not the best at it].
​
Love 'ya!)

Hello everyone!! I wanted to come on here and talk about the possibility of a ACOTAR or Fantasy inspired Fae Ball!
I don’t know about you but I haven’t seen a fantasy/ fae ball in Texas yet! So I thought instead of waiting for one, how about I create one!
I’ve been hyperfixated on planning but I don’t know where to start! I’m thinking of creating a go fund me since I’m just one person and not an event planning company, do y’all think that’s a good idea? Also possibly holding it in San Antonio around winter or fall next year!
So far I’m thinking of live music, vendors, dancing, food, drinks, and possibly even performances!!
I would love any advice, help, or ideas for this project of mine!

The day seemed like it would be ordinary until the aeronautical community’s most sought after document showed up on my doorstep.
It came wrapped in brown kraft paper tied off with twine, and the exterior packaging had no return address nor any indication of a postage stamp. It was as though it had been simply bundled up and dropped into my wall-mounted mailbox by a random passerby.
No part of me was willing to surrender the strange parcel without opening it first. Regardless of who its contents truly belonged to, my eyes would be the first to see it. I removed the twine and then dug a thumb under a fold in the packaging paper before clawing it away to expose a brown tan notebook circa 1900. It was full grain buffalo leather with a crisscross of cord for the spine and a thick hand cut string keeping it sealed shut.
When I undid the string, the pages that had been gripped tight by the leather fanned out gently then returned to their original position, my eyes landing on the front page. It was without a printer’s mark and read in big handwritten type: “THE DIARY AND RECORD OF HENRY H. HELGELAND.”
I knew in that instant the package was in the hands of who it was rightfully sent out for. Not just because I’d recently lost my job as an associate at our city’s art museum but because of a separate, much deeper connection to the diary’s author.
Perhaps it’s in my best interests to turn it over to the National Archives, or the US Arctic Research Commission, or maybe even the U.S. Capitol Visitor Center, but at the risk of seeing it blue-penciled to death, I’ve elected to instead share it here and now.
The world needs to know what happened.
---
Henry H. Helgeland — my great grandfather — was a severe looking man with a walrus mustache and a bone to pick with anyone who ever doubted him. He was born in Oakland, California in 1871 and was, by all available accounts relayed to me, well-behaved and well-liked. His father worked a lucrative job in the shipping industry, transporting timber between San Francisco and the Central Valley. Two years into Henry’s life, his mother would contract a fatal case of diphtheria and die shortly thereafter; when he was old enough to understand what had happened, Henry “yearn[ed] fervently for a reunion to mend [his] great anguish and sorrow.”
Near the turn of the 20th century, Henry attended Stanford University’s Department of Mechanical Engineering, where he learned everything from thermodynamics to machine design. But it was a lecture about polar transportation that would ultimately kindle his interest in a separate enterprise: arctic exploration. Indeed, the race to the North Pole was well underway, with naval officers, geologists, and aeronauts around the globe vying for the chance to make history. My great grandfather, like many of his peers, propounded the theory that he, and he alone, would be the first to reach the Great White North.
In 1895, Henry graduated with a Bachelor of Science degree in mechanical engineering and sought to expand the member list of the so called Ascension Society, a student organization he’d assembled to aid engineering graduates with materials science. Many of its constituents had engaged in research projects and experimental setups to hone their craft of mechanical systems, but in time, however, the venture would instead prove a hotspot for investors and philanthropists. Donations averaging up to $5,000 helped fund and promote the fantastic ambitions of my great grandfather. So long as the Ascension Society was gracing him with their support, he’d be the first to reach the North Pole.
In early 1898, armed with enough capital, Henry used the proceeds to purchase the materials required for the balloon.
---
A notable circus at the forefront of traveling attractions in the early twentieth century was The Fielding Troupe. With its impressive lineup of talent — from fire eaters and aerialists to equestrians and strongmen — the ensemble drew crowds from nearly every town in western America during its historic run. Its wide reach would ultimately reel in many notable faces, including my great grandfather.
Prior to a performance in Oakland, the Fielding Troupe led a procession through the town around Stanford University, announcing their arrival with a parade of wagons, floats, and animals. The strategy, as it were, was to drum up as much publicity and fanfare as possible. Evidently it worked, as a healthy fraction of the faculty and student body at Stanford made the trip over to Oakland in order to see the troupe in action.
Surrounding their arena with two hundred feet of heavy duty tent canvas, the troupe put on a show for the ages the night Henry was in attendance, with extravagant acrobatics, trained animal performances, and a special appearance from Curtis the Clown. Following a skillful display of juggling and good natured audience ribbing, Curtis’s master stroke was an intricate stunt involving balloons and wire flying. Firstly, he would inflate several multi-colored balloons and tie them off with string, securing them firmly in his grip. They served as a flashy distraction from the piece of flexible metal snaking out from the harness he had concealed under his equally flashy costume. Then, with a whisper of strength, a couple stagehands hoisted the balloon-carrying clown thirty feet into the air to make it appear as though he was levitating by virtue of the balloons alone. A separate performer — a marksman — showed off his sharpshooting skills with a Winchester model rifle and gunned down the balloons, exploding each one as the stagehands loosened their hold on Curtis’s harness until he was eased to the ground.
Henry watched the routine with eager delight. Seeing Curtis the Clown float above a hundred or so onlookers helped stir within him a plan. The ceiling of the Big Top Tent where Curtis had concluded his ascent represented more than the centerpiece of a traveling circus.
“Ascendancy,” Henry muttered to his wife Ruth. “This is how we get to the top of the world.”
---
The spherical vessel measured sixty-five feet in diameter, with a capacity of over 200,000 cubic feet. Its construction was overseen by Henry and a couple french engineers who installed in its gondola three berths and ample ballast to keep it stable. The gondola, a carefully constructed assemblage of wicker and chestnut wood, was built as such to bar any interference to the magnetic instruments of the explorers. Keeping it shielded against severe weather conditions was a varnished silk calotte and a vaselined net composed of over four-hundred hemp cords. A bamboo pole was attached bellow the carrying ring to attach the side sails and, perhaps most notably, the balloon was fitted with hemp and cocoa nut fiber guide ropes to help steer and maintain a consistent altitude.
After two years of exhaustive construction, work on the balloon was completed in 1900. Henry named it Ascension, after the society that funded its creation.
---
What follows are several selected passages lifted directly from Henry’s memorandum, transcribed by me. The first entry reads:
“At nine o'clock on the forenoon, May 5, 1900, under the auspices of the Ascension Society, we embarked from the 71st parallel on our quest of the Pole. Our great journey sets off from Point Barrow, Alaska following a grueling adventure aboard the steamer Sursum. I, Henry Helgeland, travel forth, accompanied by Charles Ringvold, esteemed navigator, and Edward Meyer, long celebrated physician, into the arctic wilderness. Together, our efforts will generate a most formidable team and an unwavering spirit. We will ascend.”
Indeed, the SS Sursum disembarked from a port in San Francisco in mid May of that year; it offered easy access to the Pacific Ocean and sailed through the Bering Strait, covering over 3,000 nautical miles before reaching Point Barrow on July 2.
When the balloon took off, carried by a fierce north east wind, it was to a thunderous applause from those that had come to bear witness to the bold endeavor. Among them were crew members of the SS Sursum, high ranking associates of the Ascension Society, and carpenters tasked with helping the balloon reach its initial phase of liftoff.
As it elevated to 300 hundred feet and passed around an onlooking whaler, Henry was reported to have shouted: “To the top of the world, hurrah!”
---
36 hours would elapse before a second entry was made.
“July 4, 1900, Lat. 77° 48' N, Long. 143° 4' W. We are soaring at a height of 600 feet above the Earth's surface, traveling at a speed of approximately seven kilometers per hour. Our morale remains similarly aloft. Charles relayed to me that, God willing, we anticipate reaching the pole in roughly 800 miles. Beyond the drag ropes lending their ballast to our journey, optimism is our guiding force. We will ascend.”
Turbulent air currents had a different plan in mind, however.
“July 5, 1900, Lat. 80° 8' N, Long. 138° 37' W. Alas! Our aerial journey came to an abrupt halt yestereve on the 80th parallel. We voyaged as many as 500 miles before a forceful downdraft spun our vehicle on its vertical axle and compelled it into a sharp descent; we had lost what we estimate to be just over 100 cubic feet of gas.
“Edward suffered severe injuries during the initial impact and claims his vertebrae have been shattered, leaving him immobile. We’re at the mercy of the floe on which we now rest, at the mercy of the Polar Sea. Should we face the specter of death, we shall meet it with unwavering honor. We will ascend.”
---
“July 6, 1900. We find ourselves solitary in the barren expanse, accompanied only by bergs, ice-fields, and majestic glaciers. Our rations encompass a container’s worth of hardtack, enough salted beef for approximately one week, canned stew, dried apricots, some chocolate bars, and seven bottles of ale.
“Edward’s outlook remains grim; he suspects he’ll never walk again. In witness of his current state, I’m beginning to share in such apprehensions. Edward, whom we have reposed on on of our sledges, fears that the opportunity to make known the great love he holds for his mistress Rebecca is one he’ll never be granted. ‘You shall be reunited at once,’ I assured him. ‘Our journey to triumph will not be thwarted by minor inconveniences.’
“We’ve plotted the course to our next destination: that being Herschel Island, located off the coast of Canada in the Beaufort Sea. Charles — who shares in Edward’s dismay — estimates a three month footslog spanning just under one thousand miles is in store for us, perhaps more given Edward’s ailment. I am determined to see this mission to its completion, yet survival remains a paramount desire. Who’s to recount our extraordinary journey should we fail?
“While establishing our encampment and scouting the local flora of the area for additional sources of sustenance, I happened upon a plant of an unknown species. Half a meter tall, bulbous tubers, and thin roots terminating in clusters of white flowers; intuition suggests this is a water hemlock, which precludes it from edibility. Nevertheless, I shall regard this finding as one of great fortune. A portent of divine value. We will ascend.”
---
Two days later, gold prospectors off the Alaskan coast at Nome beach were in the process of emptying their sluice boxes when from the sky flew a carrier pigeon directly to their mining site. It bore a label with the inscription “Helgeland” and contained the following dispatch:
“July 7, 1900. First dog watch. Three southerly traveling carrier-pigeons were sent off at approximately 7 h. 40 p.m. Pacific Standard Time, the following among them. This is Rear Admiral Charles Ringvold of the United States Navy and the Helgeland Balloon Expedition of 1900. Our hopes of reaching the pole have been reduced to naught. Assistance urgently needed. Our destinies have hitherto been unknown, and now my fears have been actualized. GO IN TERROR OF HENRY HELGELAND. He is not who he proclaims to be. I volunteered for a man of honorable stature and venturesome drive. The man before me betrays neither.”
The remainder of the message was a hasty scrawl, decrypted only by the best in linguistics and modern codebreaking.
“UNASSISTED WE WILL PERISH HELPED WE WILL PERSEVERE PLEASE GOD HELP US HENRY WILL KILL US ALL DO NOT BELIEVE WHAT HE PROCLAIMS.”
The communication was immediately passed off to the Smithsonian Institution, where word fell within the earshot of Ascension Society proponents and additional members of the US Navy. A follow-up expedition — a rescue team led by Captain S. P. Matthews — was put together at once with the authorization of the Secretary of War.
Months later, after a congressional bill introduced to secure grant funding for arctic exploration — and thereby a rescue mission for Helgeland’s lost expedition — was successfully passed, the USS Greenwich departed from the San Francisco Naval Shipyard with a crew of thirty boatswains, medics, and deck officers among others.
What they would ultimately uncover puzzled them all.
---
“July 7, 1900. The team has fractured. We are without our provisions and without the morale that has served us thusly.
“Charles and I set upon the pursuit and capture of a walrus, a most strenuous task in the Arctic Circle. Furnished with a Winchester model .40-82, the sport skews in our favor but we are in no short supply of peril. These are one ton beasts with the strength of a hundred strongmen as they stave the ice, and yet it is not them I should have feared.
“’I can’t allow you to proceed further.’ I heard the click clack racket of the Winchester as Charles chambered a round and raised the rifle, training its twenty inch barrel toward my back after I had volunteered — quite ignorantly — to take the vanguard.
“’Charles?’ I managed between clattering teeth.
“’You’re a man of bold stature. An honorable man at that. But not honorable enough to die for. And that’s it, Henry. I will not die for you.’
“’You speak out of distress, not rationality.’
“’I’m as rational as one permits when I say we won’t all make it to Canada. You can’t expect us to sledge Edward for the next month and retain our strength. Our sanities.” I could hear him gulp, ‘our lives.’
“’You’re not who you say you are.’ I realized in that moment. ‘Not even an ensign would renounce his own crew. Who are you really, Charles?’
“His credentials were a farce; a clever scheme to scrape through the expedition’s vetting process. He was no navy-man nor expert nor navigator and if you piled his life’s accomplishments on top of one another, they’d be equal to that of a cretin.
“’Doesn’t matter any more, Henry.’
“’Then why haven’t you shot me?’
“I sensed beyond his terror a hint of reluctance and felt within him the trepidation of an amateur. The man had never wielded a firearm in his life and wouldn’t start hence.
“’In Your infinite mercy, hear my prayer. In Your boundless grace, grant me Your forgiveness,’ he muttered below his breath. I could’ve believed he’d have squeezed the trigger if not for the unexpected convulsion that suddenly brought him to his knees. Befallen by the strange attack, Charles unhanded the Winchester and collapsed to the ice in the midst of a crippling seizure. And in a matter of moments, he had succumbed to death.
“With some activated charcoal or perhaps an emetic, he could have eluded such a painful demise. I stepped over to look upon his body, his pupils dilated to the size of dimes. Reviewing the immediate symptoms, intuition tells me he’s become the latest victim of hemlock poisoning, the kind of amateur mistake I’d expect from someone such as Charles. Ideal timing, if I may speak candidly.
“Hope remains alive. I will ascend.”
---
Investigators with the crew of S. P. Matthews found everything except answers.
It took them all of three months to zero in on the campsite left behind by Helgeland’s expedition. Any prospect of finding the balloon itself was dropped by the wayside to preserve manpower and time.
The camp was discovered on the 79th parallel, not in any particular state of disarray but with enough evidence to suggest conflict had broken out between the members. Edward was discovered in a tent with the rest of the rations and a bullet hole stamped in the side of his head. There was no telling how long he’d been dead for.
Forty-five meters away from the camp, buried under a stalagmitic gathering of ice and snow, was the body of Charles Ringvold. A followup inquiry would prove my great grandfather’s claims that he was a fraud, but like Charles himself, the truth is buried deep under the surface. Edward and Charles are commemorated for their failed — albeit honorable — efforts in the face of great opposition.
The body of my great grandfather, however, was never found. Theories thus abound in the saga of Henry H. Helgeland and we are no more the wiser now than we were a century ago. He is remembered for murdering his men in cold blood, deserting them, and then yielding to the elements somewhere in the frozen hell of the arctic. The carrier-pigeon message sent by Charles corroborated the apparent facts.
But I know the truth. Because only I have the answers.
“July 8, 1900. All that remains is me, for everyone else has vanished. Edward and I regaled each other with stories of our mistresses as night fell upon our place in the arctic wasteland. Rebecca, Edward’s beloved, works as an expert seamstress in San Francisco and will no doubt be devastated when news of his fate reaches her. But the great memories they shared together, I assured him, will serve her well in the years to come.
“‘You shall be reunited at once,’ I whispered to him once more before executing the dying man with the Winchester. It is my turn to face whatever awaits me on the ice.
“My great anguish and sorrow have been mended.
“Ruth is calling to me now. Our son promptly requires our presence.
“I shall go to them."
The fruitless search for my great grandfather peaked at last with the unearthing of a path of footprints snaking away from the tent where Edward’s body lay. Investigators followed them for approximately ten meters before they abruptly ceased. Captain Matthews is quoted as saying: “it was as though the walker had simply floated away.”
And indeed, it was our family that won in the end, for my great grandfather received exactly what he wanted. The final, undated entry of his diary is comprised of but three simple words:
“I have ascended.”

Hello! I’m currently a travel RN (in Seattle, but from FL) and my husband, 3 kids and I are going to be permanently relocating to San Jose for his job later this summer. I have 4+ years of experience as a heme/onc acute med/surg & PCU nurse with chemo cert & charge RN experience. Looking for a new perm home as a RN! I am super open to 3x12s, 4x10s or 5x8s in my speciality or trying something different! Location is open as well since we are going to be doing an AirBNB first and then will find something closer to our jobs once there.
So tell me about the hospitals, if you love it or don’t love it lol, any advice on job apps, or any SJ advice in general. I’m excited to be settling down again after 2.5 years of traveling.
Thanks!!

Hello! I’m currently a travel RN (in Seattle, but from FL) and my husband, 3 kids and I are going to be permanently relocating to San Jose for his job later this summer. I have 4+ years of experience as a heme/onc acute med/surg & PCU nurse with chemo cert & charge RN experience. Looking for a new perm home as a RN! I am super open to 3x12s, 4x10s or 5x8s in my speciality or trying something different! Location is open as well since we are going to be doing an AirBNB first and then will find something closer to our jobs once there.
So tell me about the hospitals, if you love it or don’t love it lol, any advice on job apps, or any SJ advice in general. I’m excited to be settling down again after 2.5 years of traveling.
Thanks!!

If this sounds like the sort of dynamic that you'd be interested in, I'd love the chance to introduce myself :)
Hi! My name is David and I'm from the Bay Area, located on the Oakland side of the Bridge of Constant Traffic. I'm 28 and moved into the area about a year ago (originally from Connecticut!) I'm hoping to find a wonderful partner, either online or in person, who also happens to be my Domme.
Why would you want to date me, and be my partner? Well while I might be a certified Partner™ , some of my girl friends describe me as the 'cookie cutter golden retriever gamer boy', which I do think describes me pretty accurately. As a bit more about me though, here are three things I love!
I love going out on adventures, one day it might be going camping just a couple of hours away, or another it might mean hopping on an 18 hour flight to the other side of the globe, experiencing new things are what really excite me!

1. I love when my partner and I get spend alone time together, be that to play games together, scrabble, chess or something like that - or even just watching a show together.
2. I really appreciate opportunities to explore the outdoors be it through biking or hiking, and I hope you do to! (Or at least would like to force me to get out and experience it!)
3. I LOVE to cook, I've been told that my tomato sauce is better than a couple people's grandmothers (blasphemy I know) - and that I can whip up the best turkey that folks have ever had. So that's thanksgiving handled!

Why would you want to be my Dominant? While I do like to think of myself as a good submissive partner, I would say that there are a few qualities that I'm particularly proud of.

• I love service, making you happy and helping to solve your problems is a massive turn on for me. Do you need help picking out clothes? Do you need help with your vehicle? Not sure what computer to buy? Need dinner made? I'm you're guy.
• I am very obedient, I truly do not like bratting, and do not enjoy defiance.
• I love being held accountable for tasks and responsibilities, both for you and for me.

What are my submissive interests? (ie what are my kinks) If I had to classify myself, I would describe myself as a slave sissy. This manifests in a few different ways.

• I deeply enjoy power exchange and overall handover of control to the extent possible. This extends to both in, and outside of the bedroom, be it what I wear, and to an extent how I spend my day.
• Denial and chastity are, to me, part of what make me a submissive. My pleasure, and control of it, is yours.
• I have a deep feminization and sissification kink that puts me deep into subspace, and is something that I would hope that my partner would share with me.

My limits are: Blood, Scat, Watersports, and anything permanent (Tatoos or Piercings) - without us discussing and agreeing to it.
Please message or chat me here on Reddit, and I'm hoping to hear from you!
David

If this sounds like the sort of dynamic that you'd be interested in, I'd love the chance to introduce myself :)
Hi! My name is David and I'm from the Bay Area, located on the Oakland side of the Bridge of Constant Traffic. I'm 28 and moved into the area about a year ago (originally from Connecticut!) I'm hoping to find a wonderful partner, either online or in person, who also happens to be my Domme.
Why would you want to date me, and be my partner? Well while I might be a certified Partner™ , some of my girl friends describe me as the 'cookie cutter golden retriever gamer boy', which I do think describes me pretty accurately. As a bit more about me though, here are three things I love!
I love going out on adventures, one day it might be going camping just a couple of hours away, or another it might mean hopping on an 18 hour flight to the other side of the globe, experiencing new things are what really excite me!

1. I love when my partner and I get spend alone time together, be that to play games together, scrabble, chess or something like that - or even just watching a show together.
2. I really appreciate opportunities to explore the outdoors be it through biking or hiking, and I hope you do to! (Or at least would like to force me to get out and experience it!)
3. I LOVE to cook, I've been told that my tomato sauce is better than a couple people's grandmothers (blasphemy I know) - and that I can whip up the best turkey that folks have ever had. So that's thanksgiving handled!

Why would you want to be my Dominant? While I do like to think of myself as a good submissive partner, I would say that there are a few qualities that I'm particularly proud of.

• I love service, making you happy and helping to solve your problems is a massive turn on for me. Do you need help picking out clothes? Do you need help with your vehicle? Not sure what computer to buy? Need dinner made? I'm you're guy.
• I am very obedient, I truly do not like bratting, and do not enjoy defiance.
• I love being held accountable for tasks and responsibilities, both for you and for me.

What are my submissive interests? (ie what are my kinks) If I had to classify myself, I would describe myself as a slave sissy. This manifests in a few different ways.

• I deeply enjoy power exchange and overall handover of control to the extent possible. This extends to both in, and outside of the bedroom, be it what I wear, and to an extent how I spend my day.
• Denial and chastity are, to me, part of what make me a submissive. My pleasure, and control of it, is yours.
• I have a deep feminization and sissification kink that puts me deep into subspace, and is something that I would hope that my partner would share with me.

My limits are: Blood, Scat, Watersports, and anything permanent (Tatoos or Piercings) - without us discussing and agreeing to it.
Please message or chat me here on Reddit, and I'm hoping to hear from you!
David

Hello, friends.
Today, we're going to receive quite a lot of exposition about the nature of Strictland through the eyes of Seonghwa. There's a lot to discuss, so let's jump right in.

01: What are your thoughts on the page?

BobbyJ: I have a note on my page that says the Strictland government and economy are further explained in Pt. 3 Intro
GD: Okay. This is a big page
BobbyJ: It's interesting that emotions aren't fully abolished. They're just severely dulled. Which obviously reminds me of The Giver. And that only art has been abolished specifically.
GD: Yes, I think that's right. I feel like we should go paragraph by paragraph with this one because there is a lot
BobbyJ: From the top then?
Once again, it feels that we're left to infer what has happened in the meantime
GD: Yes, the first line makes it feel we're getting the Halateez story from the Grimes’ perspective, but then we get a lot of world building details to help us understand it. Are we to assume that the Grimes siblings think these boys look like Halateez? Or do they not know? Because Halateez wore masks?
BobbyJ: No, I think Ateez probably were like "What's the deal with this place?" And the Grimes Boy has been filling them in on the story. The entry starts at the end of the story and then fills us in
GD: A note: "the entire human race"
We've talked before about whether there is a world outside of strictland. And you know, I still don't know? Maybe that's a future goal? Or Z is in charge of the entire human race, which feels... big
BobbyJ: Yeah--it feels more like the simulation says "the entire human race would benefit from this thing" and Z just applies that structure to his world he somehow is in control of. And by his world, I mean more the country/area he's in charge of
GD: I'm in this second paragraph here, and I guess I'm just thinking that Z isn't wrong. Human emotions do cause crime and terrorism. But it reminds me of the gun debate we're currently having in our country? And all of the politicians who want to blame it on mental health? which is part of the problem, but it isn't the whole problem
BobbyJ: I disagree. It's true that we can't control our feelings. But our feelings do not dictate what we do or how we act. It's the will to do something wrong for the sake of selfishness or greed--which I don't classify as emotions
GD: I guess I'm saying that I think human emotions are a cause, but not the cause
BobbyJ: Mental health is also a factor, I think
GD: I think I am more sympathetic to Z and the simulation. I do think human emotions can lead to crime and terrorism, but they can just as easily lead to beauty and joy. So if you get rid of human emotions, you probably will stop some crime, but you will also stop other things.
BobbyJ: I am not sympathetic to Z because I don't feel this is as benevolent as it might appear. It feels very sinister to me. "This is all for you" is bullshit
GD: I can see Z as the hero of his own story--a Thanos type character--but we don't really know enough about him at this point.
BobbyJ: This is full speculation, but do we think Z also agreed to have his emotions limited and memories removed?
GD: Almost surely not. Those rules don't apply to people who can be trusted, I assume
BobbyJ: "Central government.” Implies, like, the existence of branches, no? Which makes me think the world is bigger than it feels
GD: Does the Korean government currently have branches? I know they have a president, but I guess I don't know much else about how power in the government works there. Like I don't know if they have legislative bodies, how powerful the judicial branch is, etc
BobbyJ: It appears it is similar to the U.S. After reading for two minutes
GD: Helpful context though
BobbyJ: Their president can only serve one five-year term. Means nothing but is interesting. Kinda wish we had that same policy these days
GD: For sure
I want to talk about art. Art with a capital A. Art=emotion
BobbyJ: Yes. The entire process of creating and engaging with art is based on emotions
GD: Sort of no matter how the individual members of Ateez feel about their lore, I have always felt that they embody that philosophy. Just this idea that Art is Important?
I talked about this the other day, but I was very impressed with KQ hiring a local artist for the billboard promotion during anchor. I thought it was very thematic, and also that it sort of embodied a lot of the ideas that they do put out in their diaries. Because as you mentioned earlier, art is the only thing that's banned
BobbyJ: I'm thinking about this idea of songs that give me negative feelings vs. songs that give me no feelings at all. I don't know exactly what I am thinking. But it reminds me of a chat I had with a fellow yearbook advisor years ago
He said that when his staff is trying to decide on their artistic direction for that year's volume, they'd go through a bunch of magazines and everyone would pick out spreads they really like. They'd pin them all to a bulletin board. Then each staffer would get two colors of push pins. They'd all use one color for spreads they like and one for spreads they hate. He said that after the exercise, they'd remove all the spreads that received none or few pins while those that had a lot of either love or hate pins they'd keep.
And I thought it was interesting that the hated spreads were kept. And his reasoning was that those spreads made the staffers feel something. It wasn't a good something, but it was something
GD: That is interesting
BobbyJ: And when I apply this idea to music or movies or tv or art--the things I actively dislike do stick with me while the things I just nothing fade away
GD: It reminds me of book clubs in a way? Like, in my book club, we have a great book club discussion when everyone loves or hates the book. If people are like, yeah, it's fine, the conversation is so.... nothing.
BobbyJ: Is it. . . harder to talk about things that we love actually?
I can't help but notice that whenever there's a heartfelt appreciation post, it gets very little traction and engagement. But if someone does an "unpopular opinion" or "things you hate about the group you love" post, suddenly everyone has something to share. Perhaps we've talked about this before. Justifying why you dislike something is easier than justifying why you love something?
GD: So I sometimes wonder if, when it comes to music, the problem is one of vocabulary more so than a lack of desire? Like, most people have taken a basic literature class, so when we love a book, we can all universally talk about things like plot, structure, characters--we have some sort of shared understanding of the parts of a story and can discuss and identify the things that we like
It's different for music. I do not know how to identify the parts of a song or the instruments or just the music things that are happening. Music knowledge and vocabulary is so much more niche, so I do think that makes it harder to discuss and pinpoint music that we really love--because we're experiencing it fully emotionally, the context and words all removed. So I do think with music especially, it is easier to talk about the things that we dislike.
BobbyJ: But shouldn't your dislike also require vocabulary? I remember when I was trying to rant about O.O I didn't have any of the words so I had to resort to metaphor
GD: I think it's possibly easier to come up with metaphors for things we dislike than things we love. I can only describe listening to Jongho as like looking into the face of god so many times before I start to sound like I'm slightly insane.
But you know, people don't have the right words to describe why they dislike something all the time--and they just go forward with the wrong words. How many times have you seen someone say "Ateez's music is too noisy for me" when Ateez has possibly two songs in their discography that could be labeled noise music? "I don't like the autotune" when there's barely any autotune
BobbyJ: People do seem to have Feelings about Ateez music. Which I would argue supports the idea that Ateez are making Art
I do wonder exactly what Z classifies as art
GD: I for sure agree with you. It's like that conversation about what a cover should be from the other day: you can like or dislike what Ateez does when covering another group's song, but they will be changing it to achieve their own artistic expression. They will not make you a copy. They will make new art.
We know paintings. Music seems implied.
BobbyJ: Fashion probably? Which makes me think it's interesting that Left Eye specifically is a former designer. But it wasn't the art ban that made him give up designing
Actually, reading ahead. I'm not sure fashion was banned after all? It's hard to tell
GD: I guess it's interesting to me because anything can be art. A house, a car, furniture? Given the right person making those things, they can be art just as easily as they might not be art.
So I do wonder if Z is defining Art more broadly... like, art is not this thing, but art is anything that incites an undue amount of emotion
BobbyJ: Right--I was just thinking, is all music art? And I would argue no if the person writing a song is not doing it for the sake of expression but for the sake of making money. But if that song evokes emotion in someone else, I'd say yes, it is art.
GD: We do have those prohibited signs from Rhythm Ta, which calls out "art, music, dance"? Am I remembering that correctly? Or is it "art, music, emotion"?
What does it mean for something to be defined as art is really a question courts have struggled with for many, many, many years. So it's possible that even in Z's world, what is art is a question that is constantly influx and being redefined
[BobbyJ provides screenshot of Rhythm Ta stage]
Okay, so art, dance, and music are Art specifically.
"Art" lower case art, I'm assuming is paintings, drawings, sculptures. The physical arts.
BobbyJ: Right. Literature and fashion aren't mentioned. Or acting. But maybe they fall under the general Art umbrella. Keeping it vague gives Z more control
GD: Do you know the supreme court case where the supreme court tries to define art?
I feel like I should look it up to get that quote. Hold on--I need to check something
[GD checks something]
So in Tutton v. Viti, the supreme court implied that it is up to the creators to define whether the thing they created is art. The case was about sculpture, and whether these sculptors who were copying sculptures were engaged in the act of creating art
BobbyJ: Just straight up copying?
GD: And basically, they said the sculptors were artists due to their skill despite the lack of creative merit. They weren't trying to like, sell them. It was creating replica sculptures in art class. Which would violate copyright (if they were selling them)
BobbyJ: So, like, if I do a cover of a BTS song and I sound identical to BTS, I'm still an artist . Hypothetically
GD: If you perform it with good enough skill, according to the US Supreme Court, it seems so
BobbyJ: Wait--they weren't selling them? Then what was the problem? How did it end up in the Supreme Court?
GD: I have not read the full case and it is extremely old, so hard to parse, but it seems the original sculptor did not want them making replicas in their art class and argued they were not allowed to do it because it wasn't real art
BobbyJ: Artists do studies all the time where they basically copy other artists' work in order to learn techniques
GD: And the supreme court said, no, they can do that. Which, exactly. This is a precedent that holds. If you do art and sell it, I can't copy it and also sell it. I can however copy it and use it for my own personal use (legally--that doesn't mean it's ethical, but legally)
BobbyJ: Well, it's the same idea as me copying a designer dress and making it myself and for myself because I don't want to spend $800 on a dress
GD: Like if someone made something on etsy that I wanted, and I didn't want to pay for it, I can legally copy it for myself. Right, the supreme court would define both of those things as artistic endeavors
BobbyJ: Huh. I mean--I don't disagree. I'm also not certain it needs to be termed as "art"
GD: Terming it "art" is how they protect it because art is a protected right under the constitution
BobbyJ: Wait--if art is also a protected right in the South Korean constitution, then that would imply that Z was able to change the constitution. Which is wild. How long did this process take?
(Also, assuming that Strictland was originally more like South Korea)
GD: We'd have to review the South Korean constitution. I don't know for sure that it is a right because I know nothing about their legal system. But because art is protected under our constitution, I have always defined art fairly broadly. So considering art being banned, is putting me in a different head space
BobbyJ: Article 22: All citizens shall enjoy freedom of learning and the arts.
GD: I'm now looking up how to make constitutional amendments in Korea
BobbyJ: I mean if they also had a National Assembly, he got the bill passed there
GD: It makes me think I've gone pretty far afield here
BobbyJ: If we're thinking about it, I guarantee the Intern also thought about it
GD: I would like to note that "people enjoyed material affluence"
BobbyJ: Yes, I have a sticky note about that
GD: And I am thinking of Maslow's hierarchy? Which I know is something we've also discussed a lot. But I am wondering, how many citizens weren't having their basic needs met when they agreed to give up art?
BobbyJ: Right. Is art part of our Maslow?
A lot probably. There had to have been problems in order for people to accept Z's proposal
GD: It's certainly easier to give up art if you're not currently able to eat
BobbyJ: Mingi comes to mind. Which I think is when we were discussing Maslow
GD: I have argued, and I will still argue it, that art should be part of human's basic needs. Like, it can make the rest of it all seem less grim for some people. But yeah, if you don't have a place to live, don't have any food, are struggling to just survive, giving up art for the promise of having your basic needs meet will be very appealing to many people
BobbyJ: I think I would argue that art belongs on the "love and belonging" tier which is about friends, family and connection. Art helps us connect with ourselves and others and the world around us. Like, you read a poem that perfectly describes how you feel. Or Ateez releases Turbulence and you swear they pulled the lyrics straight out of your soul
GD: Mmmmmm. . . and love and belonging aren't actually that low on the pyramid. High I mean. They're not that high--they're in the middle
BobbyJ: But you can't really fully reap the benefits of that tier if you are starving to death. And self-actualization is pretty meaningless if you aren't connected to other people in some way
GD: I spend a lot of time thinking about self-actualization which I forgot was even on this pyramid. I'm looking at the pyramid now, obviously
Yes. Art is love and belonging. I've decided you're right. So they've traded in love and belonging for the two things below it
In the next paragraph, they say that the songs had "the power to attract people" which I think is interesting
BobbyJ: The "various fields" is interesting to me. I think of people in different lines of work. Like scientists, teachers, lawyers, etc. But I'm not sure that's what it means
GD: I had long ago been confused about who the black pirates were and how they related to halaateez, but this line makes it pretty clear that halateez sort of inspired other people to get out of Z's control, and then those other people formed the black pirates
BobbyJ: Right. Halateez are "men wearing black fedora.” The Black Pirates is the name of the resistance
GD: Halateez "stimulated" them. Which, with what we know from Halazia, makes sense that the resistance seems to venerate them? Because they weren't necessarily a part of, and well known, to the resistance. They were merely the inspirational rallying cry. Does that make sense?
BobbyJ: Like Katniss. Not everyone knew her but they knew OF her
GD: Yes, and I'm interpreting Halazia as showing us what Strictland thought of halateez, not that halateez appear in the MV because I do not think they do.
Back to your point, what do you think people from various fields means if not different positions?
BobbyJ: I wondered if it meant more physical location. Although, if you have people with different skills and specialties, it would explain how the resistance is able to start fighting back
GD: Do you think it could mean something similar to stations too? Like, young, old, rich, poor, etc
BobbyJ: Could be.
GD: Skipping to the last line, we have Hwa sort of repeating a line similar to Hongjoong's in the first entry? What's important is getting back home. And they can't do that now
BobbyJ: Right. They haven't grasped their place in this story yet
GD: I read ahead because I couldn't stop myself and the jump is fascinating "we have to get back home" to "I won't come back home"
BobbyJ: I have also read ahead but a lot further
GD: Sounds right lol
BobbyJ: Because I became very curious about a different switch--how do they go from we need to get home to let's save this country
And I think I have an idea
GD: That is also the switch I was looking for
BobbyJ: This is way ahead, but after the Receiving of the Suits, in the very next chapter, San discovers the lost memories and feels "a surge of anger.” After that, Yeosang gets caught and all the drama happens with the museum and Yunho's brother. But I think that's the switch. I think it triggers San's empathy. And he spreads the agenda to the others
GD: I am very interested in what's happening with Yunho, but I suppose I need to save my interest for like 6 weeks. I do think we will need to cut this bible study in half
BobbyJ: Expected
GD: Well, this was a big page. It had a lot. We read some constitutions even
BobbyJ: Much was learned
GD: Do we have any more thoughts on the page? Or should we pick a patron saint to hold us to next week?
BobbyJ: I'm sure there's lots more to say. I just don't know what any of those things are.
GD: Perhaps we will have more thoughts on the page next week even. A double round of thoughts on the page
BobbyJ: Might even need a part 3
GD: I've been using an extra ES album to pin the postcard for my patron saint on my bulletin board, and I have appreciated it deeply. Hongjoong has been up for two weeks now
BobbyJ: I feel like the patron saints actually work. Except I didn't have one this past week and that probably explains a lot
GD: I kept Hongjoong, but I do think it would've been wise to have a refresher
BobbyJ: Let's just make sure we do it every Sunday, Bible study or not
GD: Right, even if we cancel bible study, a new, Very Important thing
So, this week, I need to finish the line edit of this book. Which means I need to focus and stay motivated. I think the boy I want to guide me through it is Jongho. I need his professionalism in the face of challenges and his commitment to doing the things that he doesn't like as much because he knows that it is part of his job.
Also, it's hard to think about anything other than his Immortal Songs stage, so I may as well lean in
BobbyJ: Let it be your battle cry
So. This is the last full week of classes. Which means a lot of work to finish off the semester. But, the list is so much shorter than it used to be. So that's something to be happy about.
But also, based on his condition today, I suspect that this might be the week I have to let go of Oliver. [Editor’s note: It was.]
And I think I need San. His ability to embody whatever moment he's in on stage. I don't fully understand how it translates, but I feel it's true
GD: Hmmm yes I think I understand, though I don't have the words either.
There's something about present-ness and humanity in there. I have always thought that San had a real ability to see the human-ness in others and to communicate the human-ness in himself. Which probably only makes sense to me.
BobbyJ: No, I think you're right. There's something extremely real about him
GD: I hope he helps guide you through what has the potential to be a very hard week
BobbyJ: Whatever happens, we keep moving forward. Which also feels very San.
-----
Thank you for joining us today. We'll be back next week with our Seonghwa Sacred Writing Practice. Have an excellent week, and may your personal patron saint guide you well.

TLDR: brother walked in on me, mom found out, was pissed, and is threatening to tell my dad but hasn’t, basically playing mind games with me and the amount of anxiety i feel is insane.
before i start i just want to say that i know i brought this upon myself and i know it’s my fault, i’m not denying it at all. wanted to say this before anyone comments on it
to give context, im 17F. for the past 5 months i’d say, i’ve been kinda seeing this girl, only so that i don’t have to keep saying “this girl” the whole time i’m gonna call her lily. we’ve been friends for a year now and idk how but it turned romantic and i really like her. i love spending time with her and she’s the only person i feel like i can really confide in.
around three weeks ago my parents went away for the weekend and i took it as an opportunity to have lily over for the weekend. we’ve had plenty of sleepovers before so its not like i was doing anything that bad by having her over, but my mom had told me and my older brother not to have anyone over. my parents had put me in charge of watching my younger brothers, one is 11 and the other is 4. I had no problem doing so and took care of them the whole weekend even with lily there.
the weekend went fine, i had fun and overall it was just relaxing and a good time. fast forward a week later and my mom comes into my room and sits on my bed. she starts off by asking if i had anyone over that weekend, i don’t know why but i said no and she basically said she knew i was lying which made things start off bad from the beginning.
at first she was just lecturing me about having people over without permission and “neglecting” my brothers (which i did not and said so multiple times) and that lasted like 20 minutes. then, she asked me what lily and i did over the weekend. i told her the truth, we didn’t do anything and stayed in the house the whole time. she started going on about how my 11 year old brother told her stuff that i did over the weekend but she wasn’t saying exactly what he told her so at this point i was just confused.
i didn’t know what she wanted me to say and i guess she thought i knew what she was talking about and was playing dumb so she was getting madder. i got desperate to know what she was talking about because i can’t defend myself if i don’t know what the problem is and after a short pause, with the most intense glare, she flat out said that twice my 11 year old brother walked in on lily and i having sex in the same night.
i legitimately felt my heart drop when she said that and i immediately felt intense anxiety and panic, like what the fuck am i supposed to say/do. knowing my brother saw something like that and my mom knew something like that was just..yea. i lock my door every time and the one fucking time i ask lily to lock the door she doesn’t do it right. i didn’t say anything at all and she broke the silence by degrading and shaming me for a while, i was silent unless she forced me to reply to her.
i forgot to mention earlier but when i was about 13 i got suspended from school after getting caught kissing a girl under a stairwell. my parents were livid and it was by far one of the worst days of my life. they pulled me out of the school made me cut off the girl and beat me twice. first time was my mom and she beat me into silence literally. i went to bed after that and was woken up by my dad who proceeded to beat me with a wire until i started bleeding. so yea like i said, one of the worst days ever. that’s relevant because she had asked me if i remember what happened the last time i got caught with a girl and i asked her if that’s what she’s gonna do to me again, she said i deserved it and she should but she wasn’t going to, however she can’t say the same for my dad. idk why but that really triggered me like i went from feeling bad to worse. that incident traumatized me and the idea of them doing it again was horrifying.
there’s a lot more that was said but this is already pretty long so i’m gonna cut to the end. she gave me like this ultimatum, either tell my dad myself what i had done or cut off lily completely. i begged her not to put me in that position but honestly i think she was amused by seeing me like this. i knew i could never tell my dad for two reasons, one he would be ashamed and disappointed in me and two he would beat the shit out of me badly.
i love my dad but he has his weird moments, after that thing happened when i was 13 he went on this long lecture about how no child of his will be gay and he’d disown any of us if we were. i don’t fully blame him for thinking the way he does, he’s jamaican and jamaica is notoriously homophobic, if anything he’s just a product of his environment. so yea, i refused to tell my dad and agreed to cut lily off. my mom sat in silence giving me the meanest death stare as i cried and tried to get her to at least let lily and i be friends. she didn’t care, said that i’ll never see lily again and left. i cried myself to sleep that night.
another week passed and i still hadn’t cut lily off, i told her everything that happened and we agreed to just keep seeing each other in secret. things were fine for a short time before my mom found out i went to lilys house. she found out because my older brother stupidly mentioned it to her when she asked him where i went. my brother and i are close and i tell him everything, he heard/knew what had happened and felt bad about it, i know he didn’t have any ill intentions by telling my mom i was with lily, he genuinely just forgot.
she started spamming my phone asking where i am and i immediately knew she knew, didn’t know how she knew but she definitely knew where i was. i ignored her calls and sat on lily’s bed asking her what i should do. i started contemplating running away because i didn’t know what she would do to me. lily talked me down and told me to go home and deal with my mom, she said she’d call me an uber and send me home. lily knows enough about me to know that me ignoring my mom would only make things worse for me, i don’t want it to seem like she just left me out to dry. i refused the uber and left her house to walk somewhere, i answered my moms call and she started screaming at me through the phone about how i have no sense (which ig is true) i’m a bitch she’s gonna fuck me up when she sees me and so on. she wanted my exact location and i shared it with her, at this point i had walked to a starbucks just to sit somewhere.
she ended the call and pulled up to the starbucks about 15 mins later. i got into the car and she didn’t hit me but she started going on about how stupid i am and how she tried giving me a chance and that she’s gonna tell my dad all the details that my 11 year old brother had told her. i had started pleading with her but she told me to shut up and i did, we rode home in silence after that, i was sent to my room and didn’t come out for the rest of the day.
that was 4 days ago and she still hasn’t told my dad, i know she’s going to but i just don’t know when and it’s causing me so much stress and anxiety. when i’m around my dad i feel so scared and on edge because i don’t know if he knows or not. it’s been keeping me up at night, i’ve never felt so shitty and i’ve started having suicidal thoughts.
i just can’t go through what they did to me when i was 13 again and i’m being so serious. my dad is such a dog for my mom, whatever she says to do he would do and if she told him to leave bruises and welts on my body he would do it without hesitation. even beyond what would happen physically my dad would look at me differently than he did before and be ashamed and embarrassed by me, i know it and i wouldn’t be able to stand my dad feeling that way about me. we’ve always been close and this would 100% ruin or at least significantly alter our relationship.
so now i’m stuck, i can’t tell my dad how i’m feeling because of the obvious, can’t talk to lily about it because my mom has started going through my phone to make sure i’m not communicating with her at all and i have no one else to turn to. whatever i say to my mom isn’t gonna change anything. my options feel so limited and i don’t see a scenario where my dad doesn’t find out unless my mom agrees not to tell him. i’ve contemplated just coming out to him and admitting what i did with lily and what my brother had seen but there’s just such a good chance of that blowing up in my face that i don’t have the confidence to risk it. what do i do

Hi! I finished Crime & Punishment about six months ago and i have some questions about the book. For example, i didn't understand at all the symbolism in Raskolnikov's fever dream about the mare's death. Why did he woke up so determined to commit the crime? I'm currently reading "The Karamazov Brothers" and the chapter "Rebellion" says something about a poem where some people try to beat a horse to death, just like in the nightmare, but in the poem the horse actually survives. I don't remember in which chapter, but i'm sure that in some part of the book (The Karamazov Brothers) it's written about how russian kids love horses. I wonder if Rodion woke up like that, thinking about all the details of the crime, only because it was an ugly nightmare or if there's something between the lines.
Another part that confused me a bit was when he said to Sonia: "What, you don’t understand? You’ll understand later…. Freedom and power, and above all, power! Over all trembling creation and all the ant-heap! … That’s the goal, remember that! That’s my farewell message." I thought i would understand it at the end of the book but it's still not clear to me.
Two more questions: First, is there any reason why the locations in the book are refered to as letters? Like "S. Place" or "K. Bridge". Just curiosity...a friend of mine gave me some kind of explanation but i really can't remember it now. In my version of the book it's written like it's censored, like "ponte ("bridge" in portuguese) K***".
Second, is there any explanation of how Nikolai (one of the painters) knew all the details of the crime to confess? I'm not sure if it's just a mystery and it's supposed to be just one more chance for Raskonikov to be considered innocent.
Sorry for the really long text! Sorry if it's a little confusing too, i'm looking forward to improve my english. Have a great day! ❤

I want to start this post by saying how lucky and fortunate I am. I’m a 23M, graduated from college last May and now working full time in San Antonio Texas making $70K as a financial analyst at a bank. I save and invest the majority of my paycheck because I love the “game” of building wealth and and growing my Net Worth. It’s super fun for me and kind of a hobby at this point.
I have an amazing relationship with my parents and we get along so great. They love having me home and tell me all the time that they don’t want me to move out. I’m also Hispanic , so culturally it’s more common to live with family until you are married.
I love being home, spending time with family and being able to save so much money. I feel like I’m making the right decision by staying with my parents and look at it as an investment in my future that most people don’t have the luxury of doing.
The “problem” is most of my coworkers and friends my age have all moved out of their parents homes and are renting apartments. Sometimes I get a little embarrassed to tell them I still live at home. Should I just ignore that feeling and remain at home? Maybe lie and tell them I don’t? What would you do in this situation or advise me to do?
Please let me know your thoughts, any advice or perspective would be greatly appreciated!!

I want to start this post by saying how lucky and fortunate I am. I’m a 23M, graduated from college last May and now working full time in San Antonio Texas making $70K as a financial analyst at a bank. I save and invest the majority of my paycheck because I love the “game” of building wealth and and growing my Net Worth. It’s super fun for me and kind of a hobby at this point.
I have an amazing relationship with my parents and we get along so great. They love having me home and tell me all the time that they don’t want me to move out. I’m also Hispanic , so culturally it’s more common to live with family until you are married.
I love being home, spending time with family and being able to save so much money. I feel like I’m making the right decision by staying with my parents and look at it as an investment in my future that most people don’t have the luxury of doing.
The “problem” is most of my coworkers and friends my age have all moved out of their parents homes and are renting apartments. Sometimes I get a little embarrassed to tell them I still live at home. Should I just ignore that feeling and remain at home? Maybe lie and tell them I don’t? What would you do in this situation or advise me to do?
Please let me know your thoughts, any advice or perspective would be greatly appreciated!!

I want to start this post by saying how lucky and fortunate I am. I’m a 23M, graduated from college last May and now working full time in San Antonio Texas making $70K as a financial analyst at a bank. I save and invest the majority of my paycheck because I love the “game” of building wealth and and growing my Net Worth. It’s super fun for me and kind of a hobby at this point.
I have an amazing relationship with my parents and we get along so great. They love having me home and tell me all the time that they don’t want me to move out. I’m also Hispanic , so culturally it’s more common to live with family until you are married.
I love being home, spending time with family and being able to save so much money. I feel like I’m making the right decision by staying with my parents and look at it as an investment in my future that most people don’t have the luxury of doing.
The “problem” is most of my coworkers and friends my age have all moved out of their parents homes and are renting apartments. Sometimes I get a little embarrassed to tell them I still live at home. Should I just ignore that feeling and remain at home? Maybe lie and tell them I don’t? What would you do in this situation or advise me to do?
Please let me know your thoughts, any advice or perspective would be greatly appreciated!!