Dees big nuts book

Very cool to see. I have so many questions I could write a book 📷 What has been your favorite place you are visited? How do you get from city to city? Have you met any cool and interesting people? Have you made any new fans? I am so proud of you. This morning I told our neighbor about your “tour” and she was very impressed! She wants a Born of Osiris t-shirt signed by all the members. I would like one as well and so does aunt Jane. Our little rockstar! 📷📷 love ya! Any plans to travel to Seattle? Pop and I went there in the 90s and fell in love with it. The space needle is SO neat 📷 love ya! Be careful! Stay away from the groupies, their always causing trouble. Remember to eat healthy…Stay away from processed foods. Fresh fruits and veggies are fab (meaning fabulous). How’s Cameron doing? Tell him I say hi! Remember the first day you two became friend? I sure do! Remember I’m always only a phone call away. Don't forget about us when you make it big 📷 love ya!

Okay so for context yes I've read plenty of stories in my time, and I'm finally writing my own story but I'm stuck cuz I don't understand what an info dump is. So I've researched what info dump is, read articles about it and am almost reaching a conclusion.
But help me out with this one.
So an example of an info dump would be:
Dennis walked into the room, carrying a bunch of books. Layla met his eyes and blushed. On the back of her mind she remembered their first meeting. It was raining outside and they had both come from their respective classrooms, carrying pertinent books. They strode to the library. Then in an instant they bumped into each other. Their books scattered all over the floor and Layla buckled from the force, sending her to the ground. Dennis offered a hand towards her. She reached out and held it. She could feel the warmth of his hands, and could see their reddish complexion. His voice sounded ephemeral, as if the heavens had opened up and announced to her. She looked at his eyes and could see those dark pupils pierce right through her soul. Her breathing began to deepen and her face turned reddish. Looking at his face, Dennis was handsome. Dennis apologized and invited her for coffee. Yes, it felt like it was just yesterday.
But what's stopping this from harry potter (I'm using it as referrence) from being an info dump?
The problem was, strange things often happened around Harry and it was just no good telling the Dursleys he didn't make them happen.
Once, Aunt Petunia, tired of Harry coming back from the barbers looking as though he hadn't been at all, had taken a pair of kitchen scissors and cut his hair so short he was almost bald except for his bangs, which she left "to hide that horrible scar." Dudley had laughed himself silly at Harry, who spent a sleepless night imagining school the next day, where he was already laughed at for his baggy clothes and taped glasses. Next morning, however, he had gotten up to find his hair exactly as it had been before Aunt Petunia had sheared it off. He had been given a week in his cupboard for this, even though he had tried to explain that he couldn't explain how it had grown back so quickly.
Another time, Aunt Petunia had been trying to force him into a revolting old sweater of Dudley's (brown with orange puff balls) -- The harder she tried to pull it over his head, the smaller it seemed to become, until finally it might have fitted a hand puppet, but certainly wouldn't fit Harry. Aunt Petunia had decided it must have shrunk in the wash and, to his great relief, Harry wasn't punished.
On the other hand, he'd gotten into terrible trouble for being found on the roof of the school kitchens. Dudley's gang had been chasing him as usual when, as much to Harry's surprise as anyone else's, there he was sitting on the chimney. The Dursleys had received a very angry letter from Harry's headmistress telling them Harry had been climbing school buildings. But all he'd tried to do (as he shouted at Uncle Vernon through the locked door of his cupboard) was jump behind the big trash cans outside the kitchen doors. Harry supposed that the wind must have caught him in mid- jump.
They are essentially similar, a look to the past of the MC from before the story even began.

First, sincere apologies. I do have another reddit acount, but very rarily post using that, let alone what's to follow belows. Mods, if this I'm in violation of any rules, please let me know, so I can edit if needed. I just need to get this into the uiverse.
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My wife and I have been together since the summer of 2006. We were married a handful of years later, and have been each other’s strongest supporters and partners in life from our first date up until, what feels like, today.
Through that time, it certainly hasn’t always been easy, and we’ve both had our own internal struggles and demons to face. I’d argue that we’re still trying to address those demons, which is certainly a contributing factor here. We both deal with feelings of depression and anxiety, those previously mentioned demons, and we’ve both been in and out of therapy through companies’ employee assistance programs but we’ve never found therapists that we’ve stuck with. To clarify: these have been our own individual therapists, not a couple’s. We have no children, but two nieces, each of our siblings have daughters around the same age. I had never been thrilled with the idea of having kids, and my wife had always echoed something similar, indicating that babysitting nieces was more her speed.
I can provide more context should anyone ask, but want to drill to the specific timing of things over the last few years. We had just entered a contract to sell our old ancient house in an area of town that didn’t have the best reputation when COVID-19 shut everything down. We continued with the process, and closed on a house in summer of 2020 that we both loved. It was a stressful process, with many sleepless nights and all the stresses that normally go along with moving but with COVID on top of all that. The new place offered plenty of space for her to start a massive flower garden in the backyard, crafts in her office during the winter months, and a lawn just big enough to keep me occupied for a few hours in the summer on a Saturday to mow, clip, trim and keep up appearances. On the surface, everything seemed fine for a double-income, no kids household.
Behind the scenes, we were both struggling. I was dealing with constant depression and imposter syndrome that plagued my every decision, personally and professionally. Physically, I had never felt more unattractive in my life. Intimacy between my wife and I struggled, to the point where making love, or having sex, completely stopped. We’d talk about it – about how it made her feel undesirable and she needed some kind of physical connection, but I still struggled with my own self-image and feelings of doubts. On top of that, I had openly begun thinking that I was dealing with low testosterone because any kind of sexual activity, even solo, felt more like a chore than a fun release. On the nights where she initiated, things would start great, but like clockwork, the blood would stop flowing and what started as something steamy ended with what felt like a bucket of cold water. This is self-diagnosis – as of right now – is just that. As of today, no testing has been done to confirm my thoughts. So we’d have these conversations, promise to talk more, but never did.
As the world started to open back up, my wife took up new hobbies, painting and star-gazing, and she met new friends who were married and had children. The conversation of kids would pop-up from time to time, but to me, it was nothing anything that serious. Certainly nothing that we end up calling “State of the Union” important. More like, “Maybe one day?” Or, “would adoption ever be an option?” To which I would say, "maybe one day." If these conversations were meant to be a trigger-point to a deeper talk, I never interpreted them as such. I never shut these ideas down, I never said “absolutely not” but I never pressed further.
In the past month, I had started to feel better – about a lot of things in life. Work was getting better for me – I actually don’t mind going into the office and conversing with people. My co-workers have even started saying, “Where has this version of Mr Not_A_Real_Name. been all this time? He’s a riot!” I’m in the middle of trying to figure out my career and the next steps there. My wife and I had a wonderful breakfast at a restaurant where we talked about what options and opportunities are available to someone with my skill level (no college but 10+ years in corporate America). I left that breakfast feeling so energized and so loved. As cliche as it sounded, it felt like the sun coming up after a long dark winter.
Last weekend, my wife and some of her girlfriends took a two hour trip from home for a girl’s weekend with several friends. Nothing out of the ordinary here, she’ll do that with her crew of friends every 6 months or so. We’ll exchange texts back and forth – she’d send me overly priced menu options at the steakhouse they found, I’d reply with a picture of our goofy dog’s underbite. She was coming home Monday afternoon, so I took Monday off so we could just spend the day together – sharing stories of our weekends. She came home, unpacked a little, and started to do some of her weekend laundry. I ran to the grocery store to get some provisions for dinner as the sun was staring to set.
When I got home, I noticed the atmosphere had changed. My wife’s face red, fighting back tears. She said, “you need to sit down, we need to have a talk.” I asked her what was going on, expecting the worst, but secretly hoping I had done something really stupid like leaving the toilet seat up. What transpired for the next 30 minutes was a rollercoaster of emotions, a definitive State of The Union.
The girl’s weekend ended up becoming a self-help session for my wife. Where she came to the conclusion that she was no longer happy with our relationship, that somehow I wasn’t happy with our relationship, and that she wanted to have a family, but couldn’t see that happening between the two of us. In hindsight, I knew this conversation could and, well, would happen, and now we were in the middle of it. Still, I was dumbstruck, flabbergasted, and initially very quiet. I was still processing the words she had said. I remember saying, “What does this mean? Are you saying we’re our marriage is over? Don’t I get a say in this?” She kept coming back to “I know you don’t want kids; you’ve said as much in the past.” We went around in circle for a bit, before she decided that she was going to leave for her friend’s house – one of the same ladies that she had spent the weekend with. I wanted to respect her wishes, didn’t want to force any hard discussion at such a heated point, so I told her that if she felt that was what was best in that moment, I wouldn’t stop her. As the garage door closed, the house never felt as cold or empty as it did in that moment. As I watched her drive down the street, I turned the front porch/garage lights on. If she wanted to come home, there would be a light on for her.
She sent me a text an hour later. She felt terrible, alone, and scared. She asked if she could come home and talk. Again, I said I’d be more than willing to if that was what we both thought was best. She came home – we hugged, we ugly cried, we talked for hours. She said that she came because she wanted to put in the effort to make us work – to make us WHOLE again. We made plans for the following morning: 1) we both take PTO from work. 2) We both reach out to our employers EPA program to arrange individual counseling as well as couples counseling. 3) We continue to have open dialogue, knowing that a nerve had been exposed and was very raw and real.
We were up early on Tuesday actioning these tasks. By noon, we had appointments locked-up and I had even completed my intake paperwork for therapy. I took it a step further and booked a doctor’s appointment for annual work and to discuss depression, low testosterone, and overall physical health. Our couple appointment was scheduled for March 28, her personal appointment the following week, mine the week after. The rest of last week was a delicate balance of sharing our feelings and trying to maintain a shred of normal life. I confided into someone at work the struggles we had been having, just to have some perspective and because I desperately needed a release valve. I told this person, “This is what I know: there’s a small sliver of thread here, and my wife and I are going to put in the work and spin this into GOLD.” I knew there was a long road ahead of us, but I knew we could tackle it together.
I woke up this morning with an anxious pit in my stomach. I worked from home today, know we had an afternoon tele-therapy appointment scheduled and I wanted to make sure I wasn’t worried about leaving an office at a specific time or fighting traffic. This was Priority 1 for me. About 30 minutes before the session was to kick-off, I went into my wife’s office to ask if we should log in to the session on separate devices. She turned from her desk, face once again red, eyes shimmering with tears. She said, “I’ll send you the link, but…I just don’t think this is going to work.” I slumped into the doorframe of her office. She said she had been writing and wanted to share some of her thoughts. She said that, to her, our love had become a plutonic kind of love, it had changed from a romantic relationship over the years and that she just didn’t see it changing. Again, I was floored. To have such a devastating just barely a week ago, to having that thin ray of hope, to having nothing. I tried to speak, but couldn’t really find the words. What would I say? What could I say that wouldn’t just sound like a man pleading for the world not to end on the checklist of grief? She said, more than once, “you’re a great man and I’m sorry I hurt you.”
We had our session, as planned. We both did some preliminary paperwork with the therapist, we both took a depression assessment, and made some brief introductions. That’s when I heard my wife say that she had just informed me that she wanted to proceed with pursuing a divorce prior to joining this call. There it was. In the open. The session continued for another 45 minutes. I ended up saying that I wanted us to work, but not at the expense of my wife’s happiness. At the end of the day, we both need to be happy. It’s unclear if we’ll even have a follow-up session. We ended the session. I put my head down on my desk, and after holding back tears for the last hour, finally cried. My wife made her way downstairs, came over to my desk and asked for a hug. I couldn’t even make eye contact. I couldn’t utter a sound. I didn’t move from my chair for what felt like forever. She asked if we could sit on the couch across the room and talk. At this point, shock took over, I went cold as ice and even started shivering. Once again, my wife said she was going to a friend’s house for the night. Once again, the same friend she went to last Monday night. The therapist did say that trying to talk in the here and now, with the one of us using the word “divorce” may not result in a productive conversation. My wife said, “maybe I come back tomorrow and we can talk more…or Thursday. I don’t know.” Again, I repeated that she needs to do what is best for her. As she left, she asked again for a hug, at this point I obliged. As she turned to the door she said, “you can text or call me if you need to talk.” After a brief pause, I was able to choke out, “what I want to talk about, and what you want to talk about no longer appear to be aligned.” She nodded, tearing up again, and she left. As before, I turned the outside light on. It’s been over 2 hours now. Aside from letting me know she had arrived safe at her destination, she hasn’t sent any other texts. I’ve sent nothing to her.
So I sit again in an empty house that feels very cold and suddenly very foreign. A pit in my stomach, my head spinning, my fingers numb. I don’t know what tomorrow brings. I don’t know what the next 5 minutes, 10 minutes, 60 minutes brings. My soulmate, my partner in crime, my everything is gone and I don’t know where to go or what to do next. If I could fix it, I would in a heartbeat. But it’s too late for that. It now feels like a very one-sided battle to keep our relationship alive. And that is what will keep me up tonight.

I am learning a new RPG, The Warren by Marshall Miller, it is not like anything else I have played and I am excited. However, I am confused as to what the book means by Compete. I know it isn't exactly combat based but, I am not sure how this would play out in a game. It says the following:
"When you compete with another PC rabbit, both of you choose a value on a die and then reveal it. If one rabbit's die shows a higher face, they get their way and choose a value from one of the dice-- both of you take that much Panic. If neither is higher no one gets their way and you both take panic equal to the dice value."
What I am understanding if that if PCs are in competition with each other is more about the RP and if they have a big brawny rabbit or say a meek character has a serious passion about something they will choose higher than the other (this can be something they work out). It definitely seems that there is no clear winner or looser and that is fine. I am just wondering if my interpretation is accurate to what I am reading?

The boy next door is no longer an enigma.
No longer a mystery.
For the last few days, I have been laying low after Mrs Wilder kidnapped and threatened me in my own home. I’ve had barely any sleep and my lack of it has definitely disrupted my ability to write. I’m sorry if this update is messy or full of typos. I just don’t know what to do.
I’ve been a mess. I’ve been jumping at every movement. Every time there’s a knock on the door I feel part of myself splinter into pieces I can’t put back together. I did something crazy stupid two days ago. And that stupid mistake has fully exposed me to Mrs Wilder’s secret. What she is hiding behind her walls—and just how fucked I truly am if I disobey her again. Like I said, over the last several days I have been keeping my head down.
I went to school and did my homework and went to bed. That was it. When mom asked if I was talking to any Wilder kids, I shook my head. I had quickly grown afraid of Casper Wilder’s window. I knew something was wrong with him.
Something is wrong with his head.
He had told me. At least, the part of him which was bleeding between consciousness and a submissive state not being controlled by his psychotic mother. I saw him. I saw who he really was. I saw the boy next door crying out to me for help through bloodied fingers and cryptic messages splattered in scarlet. If he had intentionally hurt himself to get messages across to me, there was something he was fighting.
Mrs Wilder’s words were haunting me. The paper-doll rendition of me, blackened and smouldering orange between her nimble fingers-- I couldn’t get it out of my head.
So, I grabbed all the paper I could find and taped up my window, blocking him out. It sounds ridiculous. And it was. Because once I had spent over an hour feverishly taping pieces of paper over my window, I tore them down with a knot in my gut. When I clawed away the last piece of paper, I got a glimpse of Casper. His curtains were open, allowing me to see inside his room once more.
I saw a normal guy’s bedroom once again, guitars leaning against the walls, clothes strewn over the floor and sketchpads littering the bed. Warm light illuminated the window, and I wished what I was seeing was normal.
I wished I had seen nothing bad, and this was just the boy next door.
My completely normal neighbor.
But I couldn’t deny what I’d seen two nights ago. Casper Wilder wasn’t standing at his window with a twisted expression, a cocktail of pain and anger and confusion burning in mismatched eyes I was sure glinted with something metallic. Something man-made—which had been inserted, no, forced inside him.
I expected him to be awake. Even if it was just a single look in his eye which told me he was still there—still holding on. No. It was like nothing had ever happened. The window had been cleaned of blood, and there were no traces of the boy who had cried out for help. In his place was the Wilder son I had found friendship with. Before he cracked, and something inside him, something buried deep, deep, down, ignited. I missed that version of him. Who he used to be.
Because this guy was not Casper Wilder. I didn’t know who he was—and neither did he from the way he’d reacted days before. Underneath this name being forced onto him, there was nothing.
Just a broken kid with no name. No memory, except ones filled with her. I missed the personality Mrs Wilder was trying to hide. Who had told me she wasn’t his fucking mother, and sworn at me, his writing erratic and confusing, clawing into his head with this desperation to be let go.
Seeing him through the window at that moment, I realised, a sickly paste crawling up my throat, that all of that had been erased. He had returned to default. Casper was sitting on his bed playing guitar with a look of content, bed hair falling in sleepy eyes. He was wearing his glasses this time. His fingers moved up and down, feet bouncing to a beat I couldn’t hear.
Stumbling back, I tripped over my backpack with a shriek, which caught Casper’s attention.
When his head twisted around, empty eyes floating towards the window, I ducked. I couldn’t stop myself. After counting to ten, I slowly lifted my gaze.
He was still staring at me, and I noticed he’d stopped playing the guitar, fingers entangled in the strings. Casper’s smile had dimmed slightly. I wondered if seeing me brought something back. Maybe he remembered writing his own bloody messages on the window and trying and failing to speak through his mother’s control. The boy blinked at me before slowly getting to his feet. I didn’t see the chord thing this time. Casper strode over to the window, a giddy smile curling on the edges of his lips.
He pressed his palm against the glass, and I was already grabbing my notepad and a pen. But then his mother’s words sliced through my thoughts. I was back inside my lounge, foggy headed, the stink of pool cleaner still thick at the back of my nose and throat.
Mrs Wilder loomed over me, my paper-doll she had ravaged sticking from the doll-house on mom’s coffee table constructed from our letters. “I hope you understand that if you talk to, or even breathe the same air as my children again, I will rip you apart too.”
Her breath was heavy in my face. I couldn’t help looking at Mrs Becker for help, but her eyes were equally as cruel. I watched perfectly manicured nails pick up one of the four Wilder dolls, making it dance around in circles.
“Do you understand me, Phoebe?”
“Yes.” I said, my words twisted on my tongue.
“I… I understand.”
The memory was painful enough to feel physical knives digging into my gut. Mrs Wilder had made it clear that if I pursued her children, she was going to hurt me. Mom, too. I dropped my notepad and pen. Casper was still smiling at me. His eyes were vacant. He had no idea who I was after months of us talking. Mrs Wilder had taken all of it away. Including him breaking apart and waking up as a confused shell with no name. “Hello.” Casper’s lips mouthed the words, and I took several steps back, my heart in my throat.
He didn’t even blink. I watched his expression fail to flicker and wondered just how the fuck had I never noticed there was something wrong with him in the months I knew him. I watched him search his desk for a notepad and pen. Maybe seeing me was unravelling something inside him, I thought. Maybe I could try and wake him up again. At the back of my mind, however, I could still see my little paper doll’s head being torn off, its body ripped apart.
“What’s your name?” Casper had written in bubble writing. It’s like everything had been reset. His frenzied and wild eyes, that desperation to escape. Gone.
His handwriting was boiling my blood. Just looking at this perfect calligraphy which wasn’t even his. It had been forced onto him. Because Mrs Wilder expected this boy to be the perfect son, a creative prodigy like his siblings. I looked for a splinter in his eyes, just a glimpse that he was still in there. Still fighting whatever his ‘mother’ had done to him. But I saw nothing. I saw a blank fucking slate.
“Phoebe.” I mouthed.
Inclining his head, he scribbled a follow up message. “Can you write it down?”
Swallowing a lump in my throat, I shut my curtains, blocking him and his message out. Then I jumped into bed, turned off my light, and dreamed I was that paper-doll with no mouth to scream with, as Mrs Wilder slowly tore me limb from limb. The next day felt like a blur. I don’t think I snapped out of it until mom poked me with the prongs of her fork, tearing me from a scenario I was going over in my head.
If Casper was a prisoner, were his siblings too? I’d only caught a glimpse of Issac and Freddie Wilder. Mrs Wilder talked of being pregnant with four children. But she spoke like she had lost them. So, my guess was that she had kidnapped four teenager’s in their place—and was raising them as her dead children. “Are you okay, honey?”
Mom’s voice slid through my thoughts, and I realised I had been pushing my pasta around my plate. I wasn’t really hungry.
Mom had made this sort of red pepper spaghetti, but every time I tried to take a mouthful, I was seeing spatters of scarlet running from Casper’s temples, dripping down his face and smudged on the glass of his window. THUD. The image of him slamming his head into the pane, wild eyes and twisted lips, an agonising panic bringing him to the edge of hysteria caught me off guard, and my fork slipped through my fingers, tomato sauce slowly creeping its way back up my throat.
Fuck. I couldn’t forget about him. I couldn’t leave him and block him out after his mother had threatened me. Because if I didn’t help him, who would? It was my word against the town.
Mom cleared her throat
“Phoebe, are you listening to me?”
“Huh?”
“I said, have you been abiding by the rules?” Mom twirled pasta around her fork and took a dainty bite. Since joining Mrs Becker’s book club I had noticed a certain gleam in her eye. Like she was looking through me. “You haven’t been talking to the Wilder children, have you?”
“No.”
After three mouthfuls of spaghetti, I ended up with half of my dinner dripping down my face.
Mom grabbed a napkin, handing it to me. “Clean yourself up. You are seventeen, not seven.” Her expression softened. “Sweetie, are you okay?”
“Yes.” I said, struggling to appear it. I knew she could see my sleep circles.
“Have you been talking to the Wilder kids? I’ll know if you have.”
Technically, I had been communicating with him. But it was one-sided.
Still though, paranoia turned my thoughts against me. Shovelling down spaghetti, I spoke through a mouthful. “No.”
She handed me another napkin. “So, if I talk to Mrs Wilder…”
“Mom.” I grabbed her hand, squeezing it for dear life. Mrs Wilder knew, I thought dizzily. She must have known Casper’s attempt to talk to me, even if he was exactly who she wanted him to be. Still under her demented control. But it was confusing me just how she had that control. This wasn’t a movie or a TV show.
Mind control didn’t exist, right? And if it did, it was barely even a thing—induced by cocktails of drugs and torture. Casper didn’t look like he’d been tortured.
Except that thing inside his head… my thoughts grew foggy, and I was suddenly overcome with emotion. What I meant to tell her was all about what I had seen, and what Mrs Wilder had done to me. Though knowing what the woman was capable of, and thinking about that chord-like thing which surely had been forced into the back of Casper Wilder’s skull… “Can we just…move?” I choked out. “I want to move. I hate it here.” I gestured around.
“I hate this house. It’s too big, I feel like I’m lost every time I go upstairs. I hate school. The kids there freak me out.” Holding her gaze, I curled my lip. “And I hate our stupid neighbors.”
“Phoebe.” Mom’s tone darkened. “What did I tell you about being respectful?”
“It’s not like they can hear us!” I spat. “Did they fit cameras in here, mom? I wouldn’t be surprised! We’re under draconian rules!”
“Young lady, you are acting like a child.” She said stiffly. “Take several deep breaths and tell me what is wrong.”
“I’m fine.” I whispered.
“No, you are not.” Mom sipped red wine. “I know when there is something wrong with my daughter, and you cannot look me in the eye.”
I took a sharp breath and forced myself to stay calm. “Mom.” I sputtered through a sob. “It’s Mrs Wilder. She… she did something to me.”
Mom’s expression twisted. “What?”
“The other night,” I forced out. The images were flooding my head. Smouldering orange tearing its way through paper white. “She knocked me out, and she had this… dollhouse. And four paper dolls.”
I heaved out a breath. “She threatened me, mom. Mrs Wilder threatened me, and I need you to believe me.” I grabbed for her hand again, my own trembling. “Casper Wilder is not her son.” I said. The words felt foreign on my tongue. Wrong. They felt like a time bomb. “I think she kidnapped him. All of them. And she’s brainwashed them into thinking they’re her real kids.” There was a pause, and my mom’s expression didn’t change. So, I continued. “We need to call the police.” I reiterated. “Okay? You’re listening to me, aren’t you?” I swallowed sobs wracking my chest. “Because… you’re my mom. And you’re supposed to believe me.”
She surprised me with an eye-roll. “You are being ridiculous.”
THUD.
It felt like the walls were suddenly closing in. I could smell the stink of pool cleaner and Mrs Wilder’s perfume intoxicating my senses.
THUD.
I was seeing Casper slamming his head into his window once again, his eyes alive with a light I couldn’t understand. Like something was entwined inside his pupil.
THUD.
“Help me.”
God, it wouldn’t stop.
His voice. It was driving me crazy.
“I don’t know who I am.” Casper’s sobs echoed. “I don’t… I don’t fucking know who I am! I can’t remember… I can’t remember who I am!”
I could see his words clear in my mind, red scrawled against white until they were barely readable.
WHO.
AM.
I?
WHO AM I? WHO AM I? WHO AM I? I DON’T KNOW WHO I AM. THAT WOMAN IS NOT MY MOM.
I was going to be sick.
“Mom,” The words were choking from my mouth before I could stop them. I didn’t mean to sound so childlike, but that is exactly what I felt like. A child. I was alone. Drowning.
Looking at my mother’s curled lips, her eyes burning right through me, I felt myself start to come apart.
Like that stupid doll.
“Mom, please—”
She cut me off with a snort. “What? Is this because you're not allowed to talk to the boy next door? You’re creating your own narrative, and it’s… endearing. Childlike, but you are a child after all." Mom chuckled. “Sweetie, I know you love your mysteries, and sure, I can understand the cliché Romeo and Juliet thing going on, but really, there are plenty more fish in the sea. You don’t have to make up ridiculous scenarios.”
I let go of her hand, my toes curling. They didn’t sound like her words. They were someone else’s.
What was she talking about, ridiculous scenarios? Did my mother really think I was capable of imagining all of this shit?
I couldn’t reply. Not when part of me wondered if these were even her words. I had a strong suspicion my mom was just a puppet.
Like someone was talking through her.
“Do you like him?” Mom pressed. In her eyes, I could see Mrs Wilder was asking that question. “Is that why you’re being so… “ She trailed off with a sigh, and I glimpsed her fingers tighten around her wine glass, pressing enough pressure to leave marks on the rim. “Difficult?”
Mom’s lips splintered into a grin which wasn’t hers, and something inside me snapped. She was joking around.
When Casper was suffering, a prisoner of his own mind, my mother was treating me like I was fucking love-sick.
"No!" I shook my head. “No, I want to move.” I whispered. “I want to go back to our old house.”
“That’s not going to happen, sweetie. You know I can’t just leave my job. Phoebe, you’re a senior at school. You have SAT’S.”
“But—"
Her expression softened. “You’ll grow to like it. Don’t worry.” She said, before standing up and carrying our plates to the faucet. “I have a late shift tonight, so I expect your best behaviour.” I barely felt mom press a kiss to my forehead.
Her presence felt strange, like I wasn’t even seeing my mother. After what she said, I was sure her words were being pupiteered. When mom went to work, after yelling that there were leftovers on the counter, I was left with the soundtrack of a stupid dripping tap, and our humming refrigerator. I made several promises to myself in the time I was in the kitchen.
I would save Casper and his siblings, and then I’d force mom to drive all of us out of town. There were logistics I didn’t want to think about. These were feverish thoughts which controlled me. I had to get them out of that house. Time seemed to go by slowly. When I lifted my head from where I’d been staring at leftover meatballs I dropped onto the table, my phone vibrated in my jeans. Pulling it out, there was a DM regarding my post I wrote on here.
I read it. Then I read it again and again until I could process it.
“Film it. Literally get evidence of what is going on with Casper. You need people to believe you. And if people are going to believe you, you need to make a scene. If you want that house stormed, make as much noise as possible. I know it sounds stupid, but think about it like this. All you need is attention. Mrs Wilder can’t hide from the world if you show the world what’s going on. Good luck, Phoebe. Please be safe.”
-- A friend.
I was shaking when I knocked on the Wilder’s door fifteen minutes later. I knew exactly how to cause a scene.
Mrs Wilder answered, her expression cross between frustrated and bewildered. But I could barely focus on her, or the fact that she was holding a ladle like a weapon. The second the door opened revealing Casper’s mom drowning in a homely golden light, something slammed into me. Nothing physical, though it might as well have been. I forced myself to breathe through the stink which hit me like a brick to the face, suffocating my nose and mouth. Lavender. Not just lavender. The expensive flowers mom would get grocery shopping.
The ones which made me sneeze when I leaned too close. The house stunk of flowers—and that was just from standing on the threshold. But I knew better. I knew, once sweet smelling salts and flowers entwined in my senses, that the stink was to cover something up. And the more I edged closer over the threshold, the true smell of the Wilder house began to snake into my nose. Rot. I had once left a donut under my bed as a kid as an experiment to see if I could grow a whole new species. But this wasn’t mouldy food. It was far more potent. More like a decaying animal.
“Phoebe!” Mrs Wilder folded her arms across her apron. “I’m sorry, were my instructions not clear?” She cocked her head, an amused smile curving on her lips. She was triumphant, knowing exactly how to get under my skin. “Are you aware of what a restraining order is?”
Ignoring the smell choking the air, I held up my phone. “I’m live on Instagram.” I said. “Can I come in?”
I’m not sure why, but seeing her cheeks turn white made me feel like I was the one in control. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Live.” I repeated with a cheery wave. “On Instagram.”
I expected her to shove me back, or call out my bluff (yes, I was bluffing). Instead though, the women’s resolve seemed to crumble, her expression twisting, fear igniting in her eyes. She stammered for a moment, her gaze flashing to my phone before she wrapped her arms around herself and seemed to force a nod. “This is my house.” Her voice came out in a hiss.
Mrs Wilder was talking straight to the camera, and clearly faking terror. “Phoebe Daly, this is far past your usual games. This is… this is trespassing! Do you hear me? I’m calling the police!” Mrs Wilder didn’t call the police.
She held her phone to her ear but didn’t dare dial a number. I could see her options flitting across her eyes.
Was she going to attack me, or play it cool? Playing it cool, it was. With a face like thunder, she stumbled aside when I took a step forward and asked to be let inside. I wasn’t live on Instagram. I had barely 10 followers.
But she didn’t know that. Instead of being live, I was filming everything with my normal phone camera, angled at a height so she couldn’t slap it out of my hands. Watching her stumble back, panic twisting her expression into fury and frustration filled me with satisfaction. I had her. The crazy witch really thought I was streaming. I used that to my advantage, making sure to commentate to my imaginary audience as she led me down the main hallway, and I made sure to point the camera at everything I could see. Kids photographs covered neat paintwork.
But they were all different young children taken from a distance. Towards the end of the hall, what I saw did send my heart into my gut. And for a moment—just a brief second—I actually felt sympathy for Casper’s mom.
Four ultrasound’s.
I didn’t let the camera linger on them, instead going to the woman herself, who was following me, trying and failing to stall my effort to delve further inside the house. She stepped in front of me with a huff. “Phoebe. That is enough! You have terrorised me to no end!” her voice rose into a whine. “Whoever you are, Phoebe’s friends! This brat is targeting my children!”
“Casper!” I yelled, ignoring her. “Are you there?”
No answer.
My heart dropped into my gut, though I wasn’t giving up. I had the advantage, and I had to play to it.
“Casper!”
I ran up the first few steps leading upstairs, but Mrs Wilder seemed far too focused on shielding the door at the end of the hall.
“What’s in the kitchen?” I asked with a lump in my throat. Backing down the stairs, I made my way towards her.
“Nothing is in the kitchen!” she spat back, feigning innocence. “We’re having dinner if you must know. And you are ruining it!”
I shook my head. “This is Mrs Wilder,” I announced, pointing the phone at her. “She is holding four teenagers against their will and claiming them as her own children.” I said smoothly. When we reached a sliding glass door leading into the kitchen, I grabbed the handle with force.
Her rough hand slammed over mine, claw-like fingernails slicing my flesh. “Get out of my house,” she said stiffly. “Young lady, you are trespassing on my property.” Every word came out in globules of saliva hitting me in the face. “I have never met such a disruptive and outright disrespectful child without discipline. Your mother should be ashamed of herself.” She shot a nervous look at my phone camera.
“Where’s Mrs Becker?” I asked.
“What?”
Mrs Becker.” I repeated. “She helped you kidnap and scare me into staying quiet the other day. So, where is she?”
She spluttered, clearly caught off guard. “You are delusional!”
“Then show me them.” I said, pointing the camera at the door. “Your children, Mrs Wilder. I want you to show me Issac, Matilda, Freddie, and…” I swallowed hard. “And Casper.” Ignoring her steel grasp on the door handle, I pulled it open, trying to ignore the sudden squawking noise which had escaped her mouth, slamming into my ears. I can’t describe it. Mom has spoken about a mother instinct, and I wonder if it truly was that. This was animalistic. Feral.
Immediately, Mrs Wilder was behind me like a beast, her trembling arms trying to grasp hold of me and drag me back violently. But I was stronger, and desperate. I had to know the Wilder's secret. Stepping over the threshold, I was first aware of a far dimmer light. And when I fully focused on the room, I realised I was seeing candlelight. In front of me was a hardwood dining room table, and five chairs—four of which were occupied. The kitchen was a copy of our own. Except ours had always been lit up and bright.
It felt more like I was stepping inside a cave. An orangeade blur illuminated each face. Three out of four bodies sat stiff, almost… doll like. Mechanical. The way the three were facing me. Their expressions matched perfectly. Wide eyes and wider grins splitting lips apart. I drank each Wilder kid in slowly, as my brain struggled to take in the real horror of the room. What I was failing to fully take in. I couldn’t. I don’t think I could physically understand what I was seeing. I was aware my phone had slipped from my fingers, that I was paralysed to the spot.
The smell of stink and rot, I thought.
It was them.
I couldn’t move. There were three boys, and one girl. Matilda Wilder was a mousey redhead while her brothers were all brunettes. She wore a purple dress which fit her perfectly, her hair tied into pigtails with red ribbons. Issac and Freddie Wilder sat shoulder to shoulder.
They were the twins, I thought dizzily. They were identical twins in Mrs Wilder’s eyes, but these guys looked nothing like each other—one of them sporting a handsome face and razor jawline, while the other had an odd looking nose and jutting chin. Still though, I could tell Mrs Wilder had made an effort to make them look… beautiful. Perfect. I could see her attempt at stitching their lips together.
It wasn’t their appearance that was gluing me to the ground, however. Because looking closer, past the made-up faces on both the boys and the girls, the ribbons and fancy clothes and empty eyes staring right through me, soft candlelight was slowly bringing them to life in front of me. These kids had been hidden away for so long, and I was finally seeing them for who they were. My gaze flicked to each of them. I was seeing… stitches. I was seeing rugged stitches and gashes in their flesh, patchwork skin making up fingers and elbows and cheeks. They had been taken apart over and over again and put back together.
Matilda’s neck was a collage of flesh, rugged markings where a marker pen had clumsily sliced into her skin and pieced her like a jigsaw through mangled body parts and anything left over. Freddie and Isaac’s heads were cocked at an angle, and looking closer I glimpsed the bad stitch-job which had knitted them together.
I could see it in all of them. None of these kids were their original selves. They reminded me of dolls built through old doll pieces. I didn’t know I was screaming until the gravity of the situation hit me, and I realised I was suffocating on dead skin which made them up, their bodies stitched and knitted together, transforming them into her ideal children. Flickering candlelight revealed the last Wilder kid.
There were two significant things which were different about Casper.
The first, was that he must have been her most recent. He was her most… original—and the second? Unlike the others, he was awake.
Until that moment, Casper had been sitting amongst his siblings, head cocked to the side like the others, catatonic.
His dazed eyes slowly found mine—and I glimpsed recognition flickering in his expression, his rigid body starting to contort back to life. He was her paper-doll.
But Casper wasn’t finished.
“Phoebe?” When the boy spoke, his voice was barely a whimper. Frenzied eyes flicked from Matilda to Issac and Freddie, all of which were still wearing their perfect smiles. I noticed the rugged skin of his neck, and my heart sank.
Something was moving behind him, and I forced myself to step forwards. I glimpsed that same chord-like thing. This time it was fully attacked to him. No, it was buried directly inside his head. A sour paste crept up my throat when I saw the carnivorous hole burrowing deeper inside his head. I could glimpse the intense white of chipped skull and a strange looking fluid leaking out —but it looked… wrong. I’ve always imagined the internals of someone’s brain to be pinkish grey. Though what I was seeing was more like a black ooze sliding down the back of his neck. It reminded me of squid-ink. Definitely not blood.
It looked like he had been shot in the head, or had been pulled out of the operating theatre mid-surgery. And somehow, he was still alive. Just like the description, the chord-thing seemed to be attached in two places—to the back of the head, directly on the brain, and stapled to his spine. The device was humming, but I don’t think it was working.
Casper was looking directly at me, and the way his body was angled was different to his siblings. Instead of sitting straight, he was trying and failing to jump to his feet, his eyes wide, almost unseeing. I could see that frustration and anger, that pain from the other night alive in his face. I opened my mouth to speak, though Casper was already lifting a trembling hand, his fingers twining around the chord and giving a pathetic tug. A thin line of dark red, almost black, slid from his nostril.
I knew it was him. “Can you… can you get… it… out?” His hand found the chord again, and his grasp slipped. “Please.” He whispered, squeezing his eyes shut. “There’s something… in my… my head, and I need you to… I need you to fucking get it out…. right now.”
“Casper.” I couldn’t resist a relieved hiss. “This woman.” I twisted and pointed at Mrs Wilder.
“Who is she to you?”
The kid blinked, his eyes narrowing. He jolted, twisting around to try and see the thing attached to him. “Why would I know her? Get this shit out of my head!”
He let out a hysterical yell. His cry was more of a demand, and that nameless boy underneath splintered doll pieces began to unravel.
“Get it out.” He kept repeating. “Fucking get it out! There’s something inside my head!”
I nodded, choking back a cry.
He slammed his hands down, but seemingly couldn’t move from the chair. “What the fuck.” He side eyed the others. “What the fuck is this?”
I struggled to answer without screaming myself. “Stuff.” I managed to get out through a sputter. “Can you stand up?”
“What?” He blinked rapidly at me, I was seeing it again. That odd light flickering in his pupils.
“No. I can’t move!”
The humming grew louder, and at the corner of my eye, that thing seemed to dig deeper inside his head.
More blood spurted from his nose, and I could tell that he was fighting it.
The boy’s eyes found mine, his words tangling into an almost slur. “Get it out! I can’t… I can’t fucking think straight. I…. I….”
His eyes rolled back for a moment before he shook his head, lunging against the chair. His head twitched. “I don’t know I am.”
I couldn’t move. Watching this thing take control in real time, it was both fascinating and horrifying, sending my knees buckling.
“Who… who am I?”
His whole head twitched, like he was glitching.
“I know her. I… I know her. I’m her… I’m her son… I’m her s—son.”
Casper hummed, his twitching lips pricking into a demented smile. “I’ll always know her. She’s the one who… who s---saved me.”
Choking on a shade too vivid and dark to be blood, he sputtered, his head drooping.
“Mom?” Casper spoke through mouthfuls of pooling black. He lifted his head, unseeing eyes blinking in dim candlelight. The chord-like thing sounded more like it was drilling into his brain, and I knew I was fucked when his lips spread out into a childlike smile, and he swayed to the left and then the right, the light in his eyes burning. “There’s… water.” He whispered. “So… so cold. I’m so cold.” His voice broke.
“I don’t… want to be cold.”
“You won’t be cold.” Mrs Wilder’s voice was a sharp cry behind me. “Ever again. Your mom is here.”
“Promise? You n… need to… prom…promise me.” His teeth chattered. “You need to… tell me… I won’t… be cold. That my mom… is coming.”
“I promise, darling.”
“Mommy?”
“No,” I swallowed back frustrated tears. “Casper, she’s not your mother!”
His next words split into a guttural screech which almost sent him toppling off of the chair. He grabbed at his head, clawing at face.
But the more he was tugging, the machine fought against him. I could see metallic clamp-like legs stubbornly holding on.
His next words were mangled between cries from his conscious self, and whatever the fuck his ‘mother’ was forcing into his head.
And yet it barely grazed my ears. I was trying to figure out how to get that monumental THING out of his brain. There was no way I could just pull it out. That could kill him, right?
I started forwards to grab him, to try and pry the clamp off his spine, before I was being smothered with the stink of rich lavender. I hadn’t noticed Mrs Wilder swipe up my phone. She was holding it up in the air. “Live? You were never filming anything, you stupid girl! Do you understand what you have done?” She laughed—and I mean cackled like a witch. “I warned you, didn’t I?”
I got one last glimpse of Casper. His whole body was jerking under the chord inside his head, but he wasn’t crying out anymore.
Before I knew what was happening, I was being dragged back, and in front of me a Wilder boy shoving his struggling brother back into the chair. I didn’t have time to cry out.
With strength I had no idea the crazy bitch had, I was being violently yanked by my hair. And while I was flailing, I saw the ultrasound’s once again. Looking closer though, each one had a different name. A different mother. My head spun. That couldn’t be right. Mrs Wilder told me she was pregnant with four children, so who’s ultrasound’s were these? And why had she framed them? I didn’t have time to check it out.
I was dumped on my ass and the door was slammed straight in my face. I tried to get back in, throwing my fists into the door, until my own mother’s arms were pulling me back. I was hysterical. I couldn’t breathe, and mom wasn’t getting through to me. I’d kicked and thrown myself into the door, attracting the attention of our neighbours. That’s what I wanted. I wanted one of them to call the police, and when I picked up a brick, struggling against mom’s attempt to restrain me, and throwing it through the Wilder’s front window, I finally got it.
Two cops arrived, and I was so relieved I almost sobbed into one officer's chest. While my mom was trying and failing to explain my “breakdown” I begged them to take a look inside. And I was loud. I was screaming.
Which they couldn’t ignore.
“Phoebe!” I was partially aware of mom’s voice trying to calm me down, but I all I could see was that thing in Casper’s head, and his siblings made from knitted flesh. When the officer’s exited the Wilder’s house after five painful minutes waiting, I stumbled over to the two.
“Well?” I demanded, shoving away my mom. “Did you see them?” I yelled. “She’s turned them into… into dolls!” I was already going on a tangent, hysteria plunging me further into my own insanity.
“They’re not her children.” I gritted out. “She kidnapped and.. and stitched them up like… like Frankenstein! Mrs Wilder likes dolls! She had this paper-doll of me when she kidnapped me and lit it on fire to threaten me because I was talking to Casper. And he… he’s one of them, and not even her son! She’s controlling his mind with this thing stuck inside—"
“That’s enough!” Mom snapped.
The officer in front of me chuckled. “Breathe, kid!” He said. “Jeez. You’re not even giving us time to talk.”
“What?”
Instead of speaking to me directly, the officer turned to mom. “There’s nothing out of the ordinary, ma’am.” He said. “The Wilder’s were enjoying a family dinner, and…” his gaze flashed to me. “Well. It appears someone ruined it. There are no current reports of child abduction.”
I couldn’t resist a laugh. “Are you serious? Did you not… did you not see—”
He cut me off. “There they are!” He chuckled. “The Wilder siblings!” The officer saluted the four of them who had wandered outside trailing their mother. Ignoring the other three, I made my way over to Casper. But he looked… I don’t know, he looked like he usually did through his window? There were no stitches or patchwork skin. He was wearing a beanie, and I reached to yank it off, when his hand caught mine.
He was freezing cold.
His skin felt almost slimy, like I was touching the skin of a dead fish. I wanted to hold on, to force the cops to believe me, but he was already speaking—his voice was different, a lot deeper than the hysterical cry of the boy underneath. “Mom?” Casper’s eyes were cold. He shoved my hand away before taking a shaky step back. Like I was crazy. He quickly joined his siblings.
“Who is this girl?”
“We’re going home.” Mom said, grasping my arm. “Can’t you see you’ve embarrassed me enough?”
“Phoebe, huh?”
I turned to find the other Wilder kids. The guy with the jawline still had that doll-like smile. “Please leave our brother alone.”
I couldn’t resist spitting at him. “He’s not your brother. You’re brainwashed.”
Something in his expression seemed to twitch suddenly. Mom tried to pull me back, but I stubbornly stayed where I was.
Issac or Freddie cocked his head. “Brain... washed?"
He started to speak, before Mrs Wilder ushered them all away. But I did notice him turn back to frown at me.
Needless to say, I was grounded—and threatened with a restraining order.
That didn’t stop me peeking through the gap in Casper’s curtains that night. I caught him stumbling around, struggling to get the chord-thing out of his head with manic hands. He came over to the window several times, his bloody hands slamming into the window before slipping away. I'm not sure, but I don't think he knew why his legs kept drawing him to the window.
Mrs Wilder joined him soon after, forcing him to bite into something plastic, as she led him to sit on the bed, her fingers wrapping around the chord, and yanking it out. I didn't hear his scream, but his reaction to it, body writhing, eyes squeezing shut, I knew he could feel it. And part of him was awake. Just part of him.
Not the parts who knew our window sessions and his horrifying reality.
Casper came to his window all bandaged up. He didn’t hold up a message, and his eyes were vacant.
Though his expression told me everything I needed to know.
Engines woke me up several hours later. It was midnight. Sliding out of bed, my gaze went straight to Casper’s window. But it was dark. I pressed my face against my own window and glimpsed Mrs Wilder standing on her lawn in her robe.
A car pulled up, and the cop from earlier jumped out. In his arms was what looked like a body bag. He dropped it on the ground. “Freshly dead.” He said, when I opened my window to hear what was being said. “Car crash. Victim is male. Eighteen years old.” He folded his arms with a light laugh. “I got him straight from the morgue. His parents think there’s no body.” Both of them knelt next to the bag, and Mrs Wilder zipped it open with a hiss.
When the bag jolted suddenly, I realised the body was still alive.
The officer stumbled back. “Jesus. I didn’t even use that much. You said a single shot, right?”
“Mmm.”
Mrs Wilder pulled out a carving knife from her robe, and I felt my entire body turn to ice.
The cop raised a brow. “You came prepared.”
She sighed, her hands on her hips. “He’s spare parts. The expiry is approaching which is why they’re… acting out.”
With startling precision, she aimed the knife above what I guessed was the body’s head, before bringing it down with a sickening crunch. The bag stopped squirming.
I can’t remember anything else from that night.
My mother was gone the next morning. A paper doll replica of her was sitting next to a note and a plate of freshly baked cookies.

“Dearest, Phoebe.
I baked these thinking of you! And my, you should be grateful I have even bothered to do this after playing your games last night. Honestly, I am not the monster you think I am. Your mom asked me to let you know she will be busy with me for a few hours.
I’ve been asked to take care of you, so here are some chocolate cookies! Please maintain the rule I set in place and do not go near or talk to my children. I’m sure you know what will happen if you happen to slip up. I took the liberty of asking your mother to fit specialised devices in your room so I know when you are talking to my son. Writing equipment has been taken away. I hope we can be friends and I can start calling you my daughter. If something were to happen to your mom, do not worry. I will take you in. I want you to remember that.
Love,
Mrs Wilder.
PS: I can’t wait for you to (not) meet my newest son!

I think it's because I'm tired of the stress, tired of being around people constantly, hate bright lights and love and require me time. I have ASD and people can really grind on me sometimes. People tell me stick out the job for 6 months to a year. But I want a job I can do for life. Maybe that means I find an at home job where I work my own hours? I start my own business? I dunno. I want a job where I can express myself. I'm writing a book, but it's a slow go. I don't want a normal life. I don't want a go to work, come home, pay bills and die life like most people. I literally want to kill myself at times. My therapist tells me I got a great job and should be proud of it, I am but I find it not for me most of the time. The big wigs have me running around too much, sometimes I don't even get a lunch and I'm hypoglycemic.
The job is overly stressful and I've only been there about a month. It isn't what I thought it would be. I'm gonna try and stick it out six months to a year. I'm 33 and my longest job was 4.5 years. I want something I can retire from happily. I guess I could just use my book as motivation for to when it gets published, then I can quit and do that for a living.

I need feedback on whether I'm nuts for thinking this whole thing is not OK.
I have about 10-ish family members from overseas looking to come to my wedding. They are my aunts and uncles who I have seen twice before in my entire life. They will be staying with other family members in my home state in the days leading up to the wedding, but will supposedly need travel booked for their transportation to and from the wedding venue, and then will need their hotel rooms booked to stay overnight after the wedding.
My parents want me and my partner to pay for their limousine and their hotel rooms out of respect for them traveling overseas for the wedding. This will easily cost me and my partner, at a minimum, $3,000 extra and we have already expressed that they are the ones choosing to attend the wedding . We are told we are being disrespectful and should rescind their invitation if this is how we truly feel.

Once upon a time, there was a tall, nerd, and not-much attractive guy pero pwede na who woke up one morning, looked at the sky, and thought, "Well, this sucks." He knew there was only one solution - to turn to the all-knowing oracle of modern dating: T̶i̶n̶d̶e̶r̶ Reddit lol.
With his trusty cup of coffee in hand, he set out to find someone who shared his thirst for knowledge, someone who could keep up with his nerdy quirks, and someone who he could eventually take on 'friendly' dates (whatever that means). He wasn't in a rush to jump into anything too serious too soon, but he knew that someday, he wanted to find someone he could build a meaningful and caring relationship with.
So if you're a fellow lover of coffee, learning, and all things nerdy, this tall drink of water might just be the partner in crime you've been looking for. Dating at times feel like a job hunt doesn't it? So I thought it’d be fun to write it in a mock format just like a resume! LOL

About me

An old soul as older people I spoke with would say, into business and investments, frustrated law student, can drive a fucking 10 wheeler truck, no ex issues or sabit, can provide a certificate of no relationship (kahit wala naman nun haha).

• I'm 5'10", medium built if that matters, resides in quezon city
  
• I'm an INTJ, Aries, if you’re into MBTI and believes in horoscope.
  
• Loves to read self-help books as I love to learn and motivate myself along the way.
  
• I'm the kind of person who doesn't follow the herd blindly, even if it means standing alone in a field of conformity. My principles are like a compass, always pointing me in the right direction, even if it's not the most popular route. In short, I'm not afraid to swim against the current, as long as it's in line with my beliefs.
  
• You could say that my communication style is like a triple-layered cake: serious, meaningful, and sprinkled with a healthy dose of humor. Sure, I may come off as awkward at times, but that's just my way of keeping things interesting. After all, who wants a bland and flavorless conversation when you can have a deliciously complex one? So, if you're looking for someone who can engage in a thoughtful discussion, crack a few jokes, and still leave you with something to ponder, then look no further.
  
• I'm what you might call a clean freak with a creative streak. As someone who's a bit OC (okay, maybe more than a bit), I can't stand to see a messy or cluttered home. But don't worry, I'm not the type to wait around for someone else to do the dirty work. I take pride in noticing when something needs to be done and taking care of it without being asked - it's like a satisfying little victory every time. And when it comes to interior design and home decor, I'm practically a pro. I'm always on the hunt for the latest and greatest tools and gadgets to keep things looking fresh and stylish. So if you're looking for someone to spruce up your space and keep things sparkling clean, I'm your go-to guy.
  
• I'm not in the business of putting people down - unless we're talking about the volume on the stereo (badum-tss!). But seriously, I believe in treating others with kindness and respect, even when it's not the easiest thing to do. After all, life is hard enough without having to deal with someone else's negativity. So let's lift each other up instead of tearing each other down, shall we?
  
• I set feasible goals and actively pursue them.
  

Here's a list of my favorites:

Movies/Series	Music	Places	Activities	Books
Godfather	Radiohead	Paris (not yet)	Cycling	The Daily Stoic by Ryan Holiday
Sherlock	Eraserheads	Coffee Shops	Painting	How to Win Friends & Influence People
Castaway	Chicago	Cebu	Roadtrips	Meditations by Marcus Aurelius
Forrest Gump	Ebe Dancel	Japan	Diving	Start with Why by Simon Sinek
Homeland	Urbandub	Rome (not yet)	Piano	Atomic Habits by James Clear
Before Sunset	Frederic Chopin	Canada	Travelling	How to think like a Roman Emperor
The Office	Eminem	New York (not yet)	Cooking	Letters from Stoic
Big Bang Theory	Dr. Dre	Maldives (not yet)	Film & Photography	48 Laws of Power
Breaking Bad	Elton John	Marrakesh (not yet)	Badminton	The Intelligent Investor

Pros:

• Responsible (Good credit score, no debts, no criminal records, and self-reliant)
  
• Curious type of person, who's ready to listen and craves to learn a lot of things
  
• Doesn't do drugs and is not a heavy drinkealcoholic.
  
• Respects your views and accept healthy criticism.
  
• Actually appreciating the things you'll do for me, and showing it. If you cooked a big dinner, saying thank you is nice. Doing the dishes and cleaning the kitchen is even nicer, and in my opinion, should be the norm. The cook doesn't clean. If someone does something for me, I'll show them that their effort was appreciated instead of just accepting their generosity and then running off back to whatever I'm doing.
  
• Accepts responsibility for one's own actions and does not try to blame everything or everyone else.
  
• Doesn’t play online and computer games
  

My preference:

• Someone who has a strong passion for accurate and comprehensive learning, maintains a normal BMI, and is beautiful and easy on the eyes - I believe that beauty comes in all shapes and sizes (no offense intended towards plus-size women!).
  
• High standards for what she wants and is not afraid to communicate it.
  
• Craves knowledge too. Love and isn't afraid to try new things
  
• Passionate and proud about something they've been working on/have done/are planning to do
  
• Confident about what they want but isn't in-your-face about it.
  

Let's take a break from stressing over the mundane and focus on the important stuff - like what will make us happy for the rest of our lives! Share your thoughts on how we can achieve that and let's get this happiness train moving! Oh, and if you're curious let’s exchange photos first!

Our anniversary was today and we were both working so I planned to cook a nice dinner for him (steak, which he really likes but we rarely eat). My boyfriend forgot that our anniversary was today and it just hurt my feelings so much as I think 10 years is a pretty big milestone.
We kinda celebrated it last weekend in a restaurant I booked but I still expected him to think of something for us on the actual day itself. I didn't want something big, it would be just about the gesture for me, just something to let me know he thought about me. We already had a discussion about this before where I told him that I would like him to make a bigger effort about events such as birthdays, valentine's etc because it feels like he got comfortable in our relationship and stopped caring. He apologized for forgetting the day of the anniversary although he said he probably wouldn't have done anything anyway as he thought we already celebrated it on the weekend. I feel so silly explainging it that I want him to make a bigger fuss about events, it feels like I'm ungrateful and materialistic and that's not the case. I understand that he is different and he doesn't like to celebrate his birthday for example, but he knows, or at least he should know by now how important this is to me. I'm wondering if I'm being unreasonable for getting upset by this or if this is a sign that he stopped caring about our relationship.
Before making this post I searched for similar ones on this sub and the recurring theme was "guy forgets anniversary, girl expects something and gets disappointed and hurt". Are most guys this forgetful and lazy to plan for celebrations or are females influenced by romentic comedies and expect something unreasonable from their partner?

Questioner

We know that Soulcaster savants exist and Radiants are protected by the Nahel bond but not immune to becoming one. Can all Surges cause becoming a savant?

Brandon Sanderson

Yes, they could.

Questioner

Can other fabrials, such as the one that takes away pain and the one that offers Regrowth, cause some sort of savanthood?

Brandon Sanderson

Those, I'll explain the distinction in Rhythm of War. I get deep into the fabrial science. There is a big distinction between those fabrials and Soulcasters that will become manifest. Let's say that what happens to Soulcasters is more likely to cause savanthood and the side effects.
San Diego [email protected] 2020 (July 23, 2020)
I was reading through the coppermind wiki and found this. What do you think becoming a savant of another surge would do to a person? I'm sure kaladin will probably become a gravitation savant at some point but what exactly would that do to him? Maybe the stormlight rpg will have rules for this. If not in the core rule book then maybe in an expansion book that gets added later sort of like how the mistborn rpg had a whole book with extra rules for playing a terrisman.

Some very interesting books to read concerning cholesterol, cardiovascular disease and diet.
Lore of nutrition
The real meal revolution
The big fat surprise
Great cholesterol con
Grain brain

So I've been noticing a lot of people asking about what the SHSAT retake is gonna be. Well to answer your questions, the 9th SHSAT is basically a more advanced version of the 8th SHSAT, topics mainly differing in the math section rather than the ELA. This test is mainly in November or December. Any freshman currently attending high school can take this test and if you are already in a SPH and you get a bad score, you will not get kicked out of your school. Also the point system and cut off scores for the retake SHSAT are much harsher than the 8th SHSAT.
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MATH SECTION
The math on the 9th SHSAT is mainly made of 8th grade common core math, algebra 1, some geometry, and the topics on the 8th grade SHSAT; such as percent's, statistics, pre algebra, fractions, and basic word problems.
The geo on the 9th SHSAT is mainly about Pythagoreans theorem, surface area/area/volume of 2d/3d shapes(such as spheres ,cone, cylinder, circle, cubes, etc.), properties of parallelograms and quadrilaterals, supplementary/complementary angles, transformations(translation, reflection, dilation, and rotation), midpoint/distance formula, and similar triangles, and coordinate geo. I probably missed some but those are basically the main geo topics.
For algebra 1 there are slopes, graphs, system of equations, finding x and y, factoring, finding the 0s of a graph, inequalities, absolute value, and number of solutions ,piece wise function, maybe sequences, and quadratics, . These are only some of the alg 1 topics that will come up, so you basically want to master all of alg 1 in order to get a really high score.
For 8th grade common core there is exponents, radicals (cube roots and square roots), scientific notation, scatter plots, transformations, repeating decimals, and volume. A lot of the SHSAT retake will be on these topics so you better study up.
A lot of the past SHSAT will also be on the retake, such as proportions, percent's, scatter plots, angle relationships, box plots, combinations and permutations, factorials, and proportional relationships.
Books that you will probably need for studying the math section is Andrew Kim, bobby tariq 8th and 9th SHSAT books(if you have good budget), alg 1 and geo regents book(probably found in your local library), and tutorverse.
HOWEVER, if you do not have the budget for all of these books, then I GREATLY suggest that you only buy Andrew Kim. Andrew Kim is a hard carry for the math section and basically gives you real life demonstration. The 9th and 8th grade samples at the end of the DOE handbook are also extremely similar to the math section. You should also do the practice tests too. To also practice and learn about the given math concepts, you should use Kahn Acedemy for alg 1 and 8th grade common core math.
Some tests I greatly recommend using to hone your skills are the alg 1 regents test, PSAT 8/9, doe handbook(mainly the 9th and 8th grade samples), and the 8th grade state test.
SHSAT Handbooks(MUST):https://admissionsquad.org/past-shsat-student-handbooks
55 Rules from Tariq:https://www.amazon.com/9th-GRADE-SHSAT-Practice-Tests/dp/1798409763
Bobby tariq ELA:https://www.amazon.com/SHSAT-ELA-Grade-Comprehension-Questions/dp/1090554826/ref=sr_1_4?crid=2NFL11RFEEYH4&keywords=grade+9+shsat&qid=1680041547&sprefix=grade+9+shsat%2Caps%2C110&sr=8-4
Andrew Kim(MUST GET):https://www.amazon.com/SHSAT-Grade-Math-Mathematics-Explanations/dp/1986850048
Tutorverse:https://www.amazon.com/New-York-City-SHSAT-Questions/dp/1732167761/ref=m_pd_aw_sbs_sccl_2/145-5264573-0889647?pd_rd_w=PrErk&content-id=amzn1.sym.b4ca4d1e-3722-4b55-b27a-c4d131b668b6&pf_rd_p=b4ca4d1e-3722-4b55-b27a-c4d131b668b6&pf_rd_r=8GVJDKQTQPCVAZ0AY93N&pd_rd_wg=BpGaK&pd_rd_r=da7b8346-6e66-424c-b398-c51333c713da&pd_rd_i=1732167761&psc=1
Algebra 1 regents:https://www.nysedregents.org/algebraone/
8th grade state test:https://www.nysedregents.org/ei/ei-math.html
The PSAT, alg 1 barrons, geo barrons books can all be found in your local library.
Kahn Acedemy(MUST DO)-
https://www.khanacademy.org/math/8th-engage-ny(This is for 8th grade common core math)<-- Must do
https://www.khanacademy.org/math/pre-algebra(pre algebra)
https://www.khanacademy.org/math/basic-geo(Basic Geo)
https://www.khanacademy.org/math/algebra(Alg 1)<--- Must do
https://www.khanacademy.org/math/geometry(Highschool Geomtery, skip proofs,trig, circles)
https://www.khanacademy.org/math/cc-eighth-grade-math/cc-8th-geometry(8th grade geometery)<--- Must do
Sorry if I missed anything for the math but this is basically the math portion of the 9th SHSAT
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
ELA SECTION
Now based on personal experience and many others, ELA is quite the struggle. Many people have ELA as their weak section and probably have a low score just because of that. So these are just some basic to do's when improving on the ELA section.
First things first, the retake SHSAT ELA is very similar to the 8th SHSAT ELA but the passage difficulty is only slightly higher for the retake. However, the questions for both of the tests are similar. The 9th SHSAT has only 2-3 more advanced leveled passages than the 8th. For reference, if there were to be 6 passages on the 8th SHSAT, 2-3 of those passages would be more advanced for the retake. The grammar section for the retake is the same the 8th.
For people who struggle with pacing on the literature, I suggest that you start to read more literature and consistently develop your reading speed. If that doesn't help, then you can just do consistent testing on the reading section in replace for that.
Some tips on the ELA section from a fellow friend named Trying(got a 648 on the SHSAT retake) are,
Ela TIPS: Rev/Edit make sure all information is listed and relationship is kept when revising sentencesUse questions in REV/EDIT that relate to what is being asked, such as question being asked in context of a sentence in a paragraph, use it as it relates to the entire paragraph; chose most relevant, over arching idea; whatever answers the question fully, 2 might be correct, which one is MORE CORRECT? for " in paragraphs # and #" questions, go directly to the paragraph and whatever is relevant in THOSE paragraphs Word choice also matters and is important to consider
CONSIDER the most important idea of whatever section the question is referring to, might even be the whole story.
Also skimming is a pretty good technique when on boring passages but I don't really recommend because it is a risky technique. Maybe you can practice skimming to get the hang of it. If skimming doesn't work for you then you fully/deeply read the passage and try to understand the passage as much as you can. For the questions on the SHSAT, you can list these questions and try to find a specific pattern to answering these questions. Another big tip is to read the answer choices before you read the passage so you know what you are looking for. But the most biggest tip of all is to master POE other wise known as process of elimination. Try to find the most smallest mistakes the derive the answer choice away from the text. Doing that can help you eliminate choices more quickly and effectively. I feel like bobby best explains this type of method in his video-
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TPgtXBsjIro
and https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Kvk6Hat0smg
Now for practice material. You should use the doe handbooks ela section, ivyprep SHSAT book, ela regents, SAT ELA, and PSAT 8/9 ELA.
Doe Handbook:https://admissionsquad.org/past-shsat-student-handbooks
Ivyprep:https://www.amazon.com/IvyPrep-SHSAT-Specialized-Admissions-unbelievable/dp/1706415966
ELA regents Barron book and PSAT 8/9 will be found in your local library
SAT ELA:https://www.amazon.com/Official-SAT-Study-Guide-2020/dp/1457312190?crid=IZIJ50BIJP37&keywords=sat+prep+book+2023+college+board&qid=1669334304&sprefix=sat+prep+book+2023+,aps,87&sr=8-1&linkCode=sl1&tag=ashton0c1-20&linkId=4483fba1a681ed5eb987ba77894de1e6&language=en_US&ref_=as_li_ss_tl
There are many SAT books but this is basically the best one
I'm pretty bad at ELA but I hope this helped
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TUTORS
So as many of you all know, there aren't many SHSAT 9 tutors out there. But my #1 recommendation, if you have the budget of course, if Bobby Tariq. Many people I know went to Bobby Tariq for the retake and have gotten extremely high scores and have been accepted to the infamous Stuyvesant High School. Unfortunately, I barely know any other tutors for the 9th SHSAT besides Bobby BUT if you do decide to go, then here is a heads up on what will happen. Bobby Tariq is not one person, they are two separate people. Bobby does SAT and Tariq does SHSAT. Also for people who go to bobby tariq, you guys will have to be prepared for the rigorous activities and pressure he will put you through. For people can't afford such a expensive tutor, you can self study instead. A lot of people have self studied, including me, and got into their dream schools through the retake. If you take the retake seriously and study, then your effort won't go in vain. Just so you know, people at Bobby's overprep themselves and do SAT and ACT for their practice. You can imitate these tactics and implement these materials when you are self studying. If you can't afford bobby's, then you can just do SAT,ACT, and buy his books to gain some of the experience.
Bobby Tariq:https://www.bobbytariq.com/9th-grade-shsat-prep
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Time management and prepping schedule
I started studying for the retake 2 months before the test. I highly don't recommend this and I believe that you should start studying right now. Since all of you have school right now, you should at least spend 1-2 hours on studying for the retake, and as we get closer to the summer, you should start increasing the amount of time you do. It is suggested that you start spending less of your free time on things such as video games and social media, instead invest that time into studying.
Now for time management. A lot of kids have probably failed the SHSAT due to time management issues, causing them to guess on questions they haven't answered. The key to fixing this is to just do more testing.
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MOTIVATION
Now I know a lot of you might be retaking because you didn't get into a school or didn't your first pick, but I assure you that if you study and work hard, you will most definitely get into your dream school. The 9th SHSAT has a a harsher point system and the competition is huge, but if you have motivation to fix your mistakes, then you will most definitely get in. People who had gotten a 505 on the 8th got a 648 on the 9th and my friend who got a 524 on the 8th and didn't get in, got a 632 on the 9th.
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A bit about myself and my experience with the retake
So for the 8th SHSAT, I got into Brooklyn Tech with a pretty decent score. At first I wanted to take the retake for fun but then I realized that my main goal for this year was to get into Stuyvesant High School due to pressure from family and friends. So I started to seriously prep and tried to get as many contacts I could get with the people who took it before. Luckily, I met some amazing people over discord and they helped me form my study guide for the retake. During test day, I took a cold shower in the morning to be energized and too be focused. I also brang a watch and sharpened pencils. Fortunately, my friend was there and we joked around which lead to my overall experience to be less stressing. When I was taking the test, I felt ready and I finished the math section in about 28 minutes. The real deal was the ELA. The first couple of passages were pretty good but when I got to the poem, I started to struggle. I was pretty scared but when the test ended, my friend also said that the poem was pretty hard so that lead me to believe that the passage was most likely field. During result day, I was too scared to check my result so I fell asleep first thing after school, but I was suddenly awoken by my mom shouting in joy saying that I got into stuy with a 640.
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I hoped this helped all of you who are retaking and I wish you luck on your journey!

Previous
Writer's note: Hey. Veliry's getting in on the big change train too. Hell yeah.
Enjoy.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Alright. This is Eastport." Tanier said as the ship pulled up to the tower at the end of the wall around the small port city, far to the south of Jadesport.
The three guards, wearing rather slobby Petravian guard uniforms, were clearly unsure of what to do at the sight of a flying ship. They were even more unsure of what to do at the sight of Amina in her armored General's uniform. She'd only put it on because she knew that the unexpected arrival would upset the local garrison. Especially with the ship flying Vatrian heraldry.
One of the guards remembered what they were supposed to do, and stood ramrod straight while saluting. The other two looked at him and then matched suite.
"Relax." Amina said as she returned the salute. "Have you already sent a runner?"
"Ye-Yes General." The one that saluted first replied.
As if on cue an overweight, scruffily bearded, guard captain came rushing up the stairs on the wall and approached them. He was still fastening his leather chest armor in place, and had his tabbard in hand to place over it.
Amina watched the man approach with a raised eyebrow. James stood a few steps behind her, still on the gangplank and winced. He'd seen disgraced NCO's that had responded to unexpected visits from command in similar fashion back on Earth.
"General!" He said with a hasty salute that Amina returned quickly.
"You're the commander of the port garrison?" She asked.
"Aye ma'am." He replied as he finished struggling with the last strap on his chest.
"Well." She said, choosing to ignore the sloppiness, though James knew she was going to fume over it later. "You can relax Captain......." She tilted her head and waved her hand, gesturing for him to tell her his name.
"Garibald ma'am." He said after a moment of confusion.
"Captain Garibald." She said with fake satisfaction. "Relax Captain Garibald. I only donned my uniform so you would know who I am. I'm currently on my post wedding trip. I'm sure news has reached here by now. I'm off duty."
The four guards visibly relaxed and James cringed a bit. That was one of the oldest officer tricks in the book.
Amina continued. "Let the people of the town know that nothing worth worrying about is occurring." She said. "My sister and her husband the ambassador are simply dropping us off. They'll be returning to the Vatrian Empire as soon as they have a chance to resupply."
"That's good to know ma'am." Garibald said. "We were worried that maybe we were under attack. Don't know how we would've fought a damn flying ship."
Amina's smile faker than a three dollar bill back on Earth.
"Well." She said icily. "You should have a wing of griffins." Garibald was about to reply, but she cut him off. "Go calm down the townsfolk Captain." She said with a note of finality that even the incompetent captain could pick up on.
"Aye ma'am." He replied with another salute before quickly running back down the stairs. He tried to put the last piece of his uniform on and almost fell down the stairs as a result.
She turned back to the other three soldiers, all of whom were clearly uncomfortable.
"Heads up men." She said as she let out a deep sigh. "Keep your uniforms straight and you might just be in for a promotion soon enough. Now, if you don't mind, is there a better place for us to tie this thing off?" She jerked her thumb over her shoulder at the flying ship.
The one who had saluted first pointed at a large landing pad across the docks that was clearly made for dragons and other flying creatures.
"The Drakrid landing pad has some tie downs and they have some resting stands for some of their larger beasts." He said somewhat uncertainly.
"Oh yeah." James said. "Some of them dragons and Wyrms struggle to land on the ground if they're big enough or too old. I should be able to get them to roll a set out." He nodded at Amina as she looked back at him. "Give me a few minutes."
To the surprise and awe of the three remaining soldiers, James simply stepped off the gangplank and into the air.
A loud whooshing noise emanated from him only a split second later as his jets kicked in and carried him over to the dock in question.
Amina calmly pointed at the soldier that had been first to salute, and answer the questions.
"Thank you......" She said, once again signalling for a name.
"Mien, Ma'am." He replied.
"Mien." She said. "You're in the lead."
Then she turned back and walked up the plank.
------------------
"Oh god." Five said as she slowly walked down the stairs, holding Brin's hand for support. "It is so weird to feel scared of a person."
"Oh. Well. That's life now dear." Brin said with a pat of the former muck marcher's hand. "Downside of being part prey animal. Careful of the steps. We might be good at falling, but it's still unpleasant."
"Sorry about the scare." Vickers said. "Didn't think of how the new instincts would react to seeing me."
"All good chief." She said. "I'm still not over the whole 'having all four limbs again' thing." She flexed her two, somewhat short, arms for emphasis. "Oh, and the not being dead part. All the other stuff is just details."
Driscoll stood up at the sight of his teammate coming down the stairs. He did it a bit too suddenly, having only woken up a few hours before her and still not being adjusted yet, and he almost teetered over. He was going to have to relearn balance now that he didn't have a couple dozen strategically placed stabilizers doing it for him anymore. De'Lius caught him with a single massive hand and gave him a moment to steady himself.
"Boss?" She said as she saw him in the plain white robes that they were both wearing, each set tailored to MOSTLY match their forms.
"Yeah." He replied with a smile. She cringed back at the sight of it and he realized that the squirrel part of her brain was reacting to his new appearance. "Sorry." He said as he quickly covered his mouth with his hands. "Bout time you made it."
She shook her head, and lightly smacked her temple with one of her hands.
"No need to apologize." She said as she took in the room full of predator were-folk in front of her with large, concerned, squirrel eyes. "Gonna have to get used to that."
When she finally reached the bottom of the steps, her legs wobbling a bit from the strain, the two of them embraced in a quick hug. She barely reached his chest, only having gained an inch or two compared to her prior armored form, whereas he was closer to seven feet tall now. Then, thanks to old reflexes, he tapped his knuckles on her forehead. She reached to do the same, but came up short. It was a greeting unique to their, now former, kind.
"I am glad to see that you both survived the conversion." Commander De'Lius said with a slight nod. "And more importantly, that you did so with your sanity intact."
"Admittedly." Five replied. "The last part was a close call. That... sucked."
The commander nodded again. Then he turned to Vickers. "Well. With that all confirmed my obligation here is at an end Mister Vickers. The rest is up to you, Mrs. Brin, and Priest Denaria. I will take my leave." He made to walk out the door, then paused. "And if you see my daughter. Tell her to pay a visit every now and then."
"Will do." Vickers said. Then the two men nodded at each other, and the massive wolf stepped out into the night beyond. Vickers turned back. "Alright guys. It's...." he looked at his tablet for a moment. "roughly eleven pm. Let's let our guests head home for the night while we bunk down. First night is in the same room you changed in."
"Why?" Driscoll asked.
"Silver lining is still in place." Vickers replied. "Your body is still finishing up with the final touches on your transformation. Plus some of your new instincts might cause you to have adverse reactions to your um... Well let's just call it what it is: PTSD."
Denaria cocked an eyebrow at that. Brin didn't even seem to be paying much attention.
"What is that?" The unsettling were-fox asked curiously.
"A term from our world. A problem warriors tend to have if they've been in enough battles." Five replied promptly. "And I hadn't thought of how being part scaredy-squirrel might affect that."
"Ah." The priest said simply. "Well. It is late. I should check in with my temple before I retire. Lady Brin, do you require an escort home?" He asked with an offered arm.
"Oh no." She said with a smile. "I live the opposite way from the new temple of warmth. And only about half a mile. I'll be there in only a few moments."
"Then, like the commander, I shall take my leave as well." The tall fox said. He was out the door before any of them could even say anything.
"Anyone else profoundly creeped out by that man?" Brin asked a few moments later with mock cheeriness. "Or is that just me?"
"I think that's everyone." Five replied easily. "Though it could just be the squirrel in us."
"It's not." Vickers and Driscoll replied in accidental unison. They looked at each other curiously for a moment.
"Well alright then." Brin said with a smile. She hugged Five. "Welcome to the folk." She said happily. Then hugged Driscoll and Vickers as well. Then as she neared the door she pulled a small knife out of one of the pockets of her overalls. "I'm going to try not to fall prey to whatever HE might be up to out there." She said, still cheery as ever. "I'll see you lot in the morning."
Then she was out the door too.
"Are all of the.... were-folk... weird?" Driscoll asked as he slumped down onto an end table. "God having legs is tiring."
"I'm a were-jaguar AND... a SEAL." Vickers said. "Who punches people with ice fists. I don't think I'm a good measure of normal, per se."
"He's got a point." Five said. "Say, is there any food? Mrs. Brin gave me some. But I am starving."
"Same." Driscoll admitted.
"Welcome to ridiculous metabolisms." Vickers said as he moved toward the closet with the bottomless bags full of food for each of them.
And welcome to babysitting. He thought to himself. Again.
------------------------
Focus. Veliry thought as she stared at the target dummy across her room. You've used this spell since you were ten. You can do this.
She felt the energy move through her body. No matter what she did. No matter what she pulled it from. Whether the warmth of the air, the motion of the wind outside, the movement of all the living bodies in the castle, or even the light of the sun outside her windows, it always did the same new thing.
The healers explanation of it made sense. But it still threw off her ability to control the flow of the energy within herself. She was effectively being forced to remap the flow of magic as it moved through her. And as her unborn child drew some of it into itself.
Luckily there HADN'T been any changes to that flow. Not even when she drew in more.
It just made focusing on her casts almost impossible. Made the use of the energy that managed to get past the child difficult. Difficult to route. Difficult to obtain enough to be useful. She only hoped it would go back to normal once she finally managed to give birth.
Come on little one. She thought pleadingly. Let me have enough to use.
She drew in more, pulling from several of the power sources she'd gathered in her lab. The large shard of elemental obsidian she'd poured energy into for weeks at a time, pouring a trickle into it each time she walked past it. So often that she'd practically done it without thinking before the shard had lit up red, marking it as being almost at capacity. The heart of a great sea serpent that had been slain by an enchanted harpoon and still beat within the jar it was stored in. She used it for any enchantment that needed a cooling effect, as she had never been good at ice magic. She pulled from one of the massive "Car Batteries" that she'd managed to salvage from a MIFFY that had been destroyed in the desert. That energy had always made her senses tingle whenever she drew it in, and it did now.
She felt all of that energy draw in, route down to her abdomen even if it was already in the pointing hand to begin with, then back to the hand.
COME ON!
A small, green spark emitted from the pointed finger.
DO IT!
Another spark, this one leaping in an arc to her cocked thumb.
"COME ON YOU BITCH!" She said to herself. "SHOOT A FUCKING BOLT!"
She focused everything on that finger, and felt the energy surge through her like a wave.
A wave that started in her midsection.
There was a noise so loud and so all encompassing that it was hard to tell what it was.
A torrent of lightning bolts, bluish-green like they had always been, but remarkably bright compared to their former inky darkness, sprayed from her pointing finger tip. They spread out in a massive cone so dense that it was almost a solid object.
And... they pushed her back.
Even the largest firearm she'd made, which James had quickly told her to tone down and refine with several upgrade suggestions, hadn't kicked like this spell did. She braced her arm with the other, non-casting, hand and felt herself being pushed across the lab until she slammed into one of her desks. Then the recoil continued pushing, forcing her to bend over backwards as she struggled to control where she was pointing.
"What the fu-" She tried to ask.
Then it stopped. It was as if someone had simply... shut it off. One second she had been struggling to even stay standing and aiming at the dummy from the force of the mass of death bolt energy she'd been shooting forward in a solid beam. Then her hand was simply pointing, with nothing coming out of it.
And the energy in her body was back to a normal, passive level.
She'd been trying to get it to that level. But something inside her had been feeding it in a seemingly nonstop upward charge. Then the upward charge had just... cut off.
She was standing, still bent backwards over the desk, wondering what had just happened, and trying to read the magical energy still lingering in the air from the spell.
Then she noticed how green the light in the room seemed.
She looked down from the ceiling to where the dummy was.
And she saw a veritable rain forest of plant life, illuminated by the small window nearby.
"What?" She asked nobody, since nobody was there.
The dummy, the wall behind the dummy, a little bit of the ceiling, and one hanging lantern that was nearby, were all coated in plant life. Lichens, vines, flowers, branches, and weeds of all kind and color were growing from them as if they had always been there. Even the glass of the window had some grass growing sideways out of it.
She looked down at her finger curiously, then tried to look up at her new antlers. Naturally they remained out of view, so she reached up and touched them.
And found that they were warm to the touch. In fact, they were almost hot.
"Oooooh." She said as she realized one of the problems with her magical abilities. "That's a bit of a problem."
Then she looked down at her belly and placed a hand on it.
"And don't think I didn't notice your part in that." She said. "We're gonna have to talk about that." She tilted her head a bit. "Whenever... you are capable of talking."
Then she began running out of her lab and towards Marcos's tower.

Previous / First
Writer's note: Hey. Veliry's getting in on the big change train too. Hell yeah.
Enjoy.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Alright. This is Eastport." Tanier said as the ship pulled up to the tower at the end of the wall around the small port city, far to the south of Jadesport.
The three guards, wearing rather slobby Petravian guard uniforms, were clearly unsure of what to do at the sight of a flying ship. They were even more unsure of what to do at the sight of Amina in her armored General's uniform. She'd only put it on because she knew that the unexpected arrival would upset the local garrison. Especially with the ship flying Vatrian heraldry.
One of the guards remembered what they were supposed to do, and stood ramrod straight while saluting. The other two looked at him and then matched suite.
"Relax." Amina said as she returned the salute. "Have you already sent a runner?"
"Ye-Yes General." The one that saluted first replied.
As if on cue an overweight, scruffily bearded, guard captain came rushing up the stairs on the wall and approached them. He was still fastening his leather chest armor in place, and had his tabbard in hand to place over it.
Amina watched the man approach with a raised eyebrow. James stood a few steps behind her, still on the gangplank and winced. He'd seen disgraced NCO's that had responded to unexpected visits from command in similar fashion back on Earth.
"General!" He said with a hasty salute that Amina returned quickly.
"You're the commander of the port garrison?" She asked.
"Aye ma'am." He replied as he finished struggling with the last strap on his chest.
"Well." She said, choosing to ignore the sloppiness, though James knew she was going to fume over it later. "You can relax Captain......." She tilted her head and waved her hand, gesturing for him to tell her his name.
"Garibald ma'am." He said after a moment of confusion.
"Captain Garibald." She said with fake satisfaction. "Relax Captain Garibald. I only donned my uniform so you would know who I am. I'm currently on my post wedding trip. I'm sure news has reached here by now. I'm off duty."
The four guards visibly relaxed and James cringed a bit. That was one of the oldest officer tricks in the book.
Amina continued. "Let the people of the town know that nothing worth worrying about is occurring." She said. "My sister and her husband the ambassador are simply dropping us off. They'll be returning to the Vatrian Empire as soon as they have a chance to resupply."
"That's good to know ma'am." Garibald said. "We were worried that maybe we were under attack. Don't know how we would've fought a damn flying ship."
Amina's smile faker than a three dollar bill back on Earth.
"Well." She said icily. "You should have a wing of griffins." Garibald was about to reply, but she cut him off. "Go calm down the townsfolk Captain." She said with a note of finality that even the incompetent captain could pick up on.
"Aye ma'am." He replied with another salute before quickly running back down the stairs. He tried to put the last piece of his uniform on and almost fell down the stairs as a result.
She turned back to the other three soldiers, all of whom were clearly uncomfortable.
"Heads up men." She said as she let out a deep sigh. "Keep your uniforms straight and you might just be in for a promotion soon enough. Now, if you don't mind, is there a better place for us to tie this thing off?" She jerked her thumb over her shoulder at the flying ship.
The one who had saluted first pointed at a large landing pad across the docks that was clearly made for dragons and other flying creatures.
"The Drakrid landing pad has some tie downs and they have some resting stands for some of their larger beasts." He said somewhat uncertainly.
"Oh yeah." James said. "Some of them dragons and Wyrms struggle to land on the ground if they're big enough or too old. I should be able to get them to roll a set out." He nodded at Amina as she looked back at him. "Give me a few minutes."
To the surprise and awe of the three remaining soldiers, James simply stepped off the gangplank and into the air.
A loud whooshing noise emanated from him only a split second later as his jets kicked in and carried him over to the dock in question.
Amina calmly pointed at the soldier that had been first to salute, and answer the questions.
"Thank you......" She said, once again signalling for a name.
"Mien, Ma'am." He replied.
"Mien." She said. "You're in the lead."
Then she turned back and walked up the plank.
------------------
"Oh god." Five said as she slowly walked down the stairs, holding Brin's hand for support. "It is so weird to feel scared of a person."
"Oh. Well. That's life now dear." Brin said with a pat of the former muck marcher's hand. "Downside of being part prey animal. Careful of the steps. We might be good at falling, but it's still unpleasant."
"Sorry about the scare." Vickers said. "Didn't think of how the new instincts would react to seeing me."
"All good chief." She said. "I'm still not over the whole 'having all four limbs again' thing." She flexed her two, somewhat short, arms for emphasis. "Oh, and the not being dead part. All the other stuff is just details."
Driscoll stood up at the sight of his teammate coming down the stairs. He did it a bit too suddenly, having only woken up a few hours before her and still not being adjusted yet, and he almost teetered over. He was going to have to relearn balance now that he didn't have a couple dozen strategically placed stabilizers doing it for him anymore. De'Lius caught him with a single massive hand and gave him a moment to steady himself.
"Boss?" She said as she saw him in the plain white robes that they were both wearing, each set tailored to MOSTLY match their forms.
"Yeah." He replied with a smile. She cringed back at the sight of it and he realized that the squirrel part of her brain was reacting to his new appearance. "Sorry." He said as he quickly covered his mouth with his hands. "Bout time you made it."
She shook her head, and lightly smacked her temple with one of her hands.
"No need to apologize." She said as she took in the room full of predator were-folk in front of her with large, concerned, squirrel eyes. "Gonna have to get used to that."
When she finally reached the bottom of the steps, her legs wobbling a bit from the strain, the two of them embraced in a quick hug. She barely reached his chest, only having gained an inch or two compared to her prior armored form, whereas he was closer to seven feet tall now. Then, thanks to old reflexes, he tapped his knuckles on her forehead. She reached to do the same, but came up short. It was a greeting unique to their, now former, kind.
"I am glad to see that you both survived the conversion." Commander De'Lius said with a slight nod. "And more importantly, that you did so with your sanity intact."
"Admittedly." Five replied. "The last part was a close call. That... sucked."
The commander nodded again. Then he turned to Vickers. "Well. With that all confirmed my obligation here is at an end Mister Vickers. The rest is up to you, Mrs. Brin, and Priest Denaria. I will take my leave." He made to walk out the door, then paused. "And if you see my daughter. Tell her to pay a visit every now and then."
"Will do." Vickers said. Then the two men nodded at each other, and the massive wolf stepped out into the night beyond. Vickers turned back. "Alright guys. It's...." he looked at his tablet for a moment. "roughly eleven pm. Let's let our guests head home for the night while we bunk down. First night is in the same room you changed in."
"Why?" Driscoll asked.
"Silver lining is still in place." Vickers replied. "Your body is still finishing up with the final touches on your transformation. Plus some of your new instincts might cause you to have adverse reactions to your um... Well let's just call it what it is: PTSD."
Denaria cocked an eyebrow at that. Brin didn't even seem to be paying much attention.
"What is that?" The unsettling were-fox asked curiously.
"A term from our world. A problem warriors tend to have if they've been in enough battles." Five replied promptly. "And I hadn't thought of how being part scaredy-squirrel might affect that."
"Ah." The priest said simply. "Well. It is late. I should check in with my temple before I retire. Lady Brin, do you require an escort home?" He asked with an offered arm.
"Oh no." She said with a smile. "I live the opposite way from the new temple of warmth. And only about half a mile. I'll be there in only a few moments."
"Then, like the commander, I shall take my leave as well." The tall fox said. He was out the door before any of them could even say anything.
"Anyone else profoundly creeped out by that man?" Brin asked a few moments later with mock cheeriness. "Or is that just me?"
"I think that's everyone." Five replied easily. "Though it could just be the squirrel in us."
"It's not." Vickers and Driscoll replied in accidental unison. They looked at each other curiously for a moment.
"Well alright then." Brin said with a smile. She hugged Five. "Welcome to the folk." She said happily. Then hugged Driscoll and Vickers as well. Then as she neared the door she pulled a small knife out of one of the pockets of her overalls. "I'm going to try not to fall prey to whatever HE might be up to out there." She said, still cheery as ever. "I'll see you lot in the morning."
Then she was out the door too.
"Are all of the.... were-folk... weird?" Driscoll asked as he slumped down onto an end table. "God having legs is tiring."
"I'm a were-jaguar AND... a SEAL." Vickers said. "Who punches people with ice fists. I don't think I'm a good measure of normal, per se."
"He's got a point." Five said. "Say, is there any food? Mrs. Brin gave me some. But I am starving."
"Same." Driscoll admitted.
"Welcome to ridiculous metabolisms." Vickers said as he moved toward the closet with the bottomless bags full of food for each of them.
And welcome to babysitting. He thought to himself. Again.
------------------------
Focus. Veliry thought as she stared at the target dummy across her room. You've used this spell since you were ten. You can do this.
She felt the energy move through her body. No matter what she did. No matter what she pulled it from. Whether the warmth of the air, the motion of the wind outside, the movement of all the living bodies in the castle, or even the light of the sun outside her windows, it always did the same new thing.
The healers explanation of it made sense. But it still threw off her ability to control the flow of the energy within herself. She was effectively being forced to remap the flow of magic as it moved through her. And as her unborn child drew some of it into itself.
Luckily there HADN'T been any changes to that flow. Not even when she drew in more.
It just made focusing on her casts almost impossible. Made the use of the energy that managed to get past the child difficult. Difficult to route. Difficult to obtain enough to be useful. She only hoped it would go back to normal once she finally managed to give birth.
Come on little one. She thought pleadingly. Let me have enough to use.
She drew in more, pulling from several of the power sources she'd gathered in her lab. The large shard of elemental obsidian she'd poured energy into for weeks at a time, pouring a trickle into it each time she walked past it. So often that she'd practically done it without thinking before the shard had lit up red, marking it as being almost at capacity. The heart of a great sea serpent that had been slain by an enchanted harpoon and still beat within the jar it was stored in. She used it for any enchantment that needed a cooling effect, as she had never been good at ice magic. She pulled from one of the massive "Car Batteries" that she'd managed to salvage from a MIFFY that had been destroyed in the desert. That energy had always made her senses tingle whenever she drew it in, and it did now.
She felt all of that energy draw in, route down to her abdomen even if it was already in the pointing hand to begin with, then back to the hand.
COME ON!
A small, green spark emitted from the pointed finger.
DO IT!
Another spark, this one leaping in an arc to her cocked thumb.
"COME ON YOU BITCH!" She said to herself. "SHOOT A FUCKING BOLT!"
She focused everything on that finger, and felt the energy surge through her like a wave.
A wave that started in her midsection.
There was a noise so loud and so all encompassing that it was hard to tell what it was.
A torrent of lightning bolts, bluish-green like they had always been, but remarkably bright compared to their former inky darkness, sprayed from her pointing finger tip. They spread out in a massive cone so dense that it was almost a solid object.
And... they pushed her back.
Even the largest firearm she'd made, which James had quickly told her to tone down and refine with several upgrade suggestions, hadn't kicked like this spell did. She braced her arm with the other, non-casting, hand and felt herself being pushed across the lab until she slammed into one of her desks. Then the recoil continued pushing, forcing her to bend over backwards as she struggled to control where she was pointing.
"What the fu-" She tried to ask.
Then it stopped. It was as if someone had simply... shut it off. One second she had been struggling to even stay standing and aiming at the dummy from the force of the mass of death bolt energy she'd been shooting forward in a solid beam. Then her hand was simply pointing, with nothing coming out of it.
And the energy in her body was back to a normal, passive level.
She'd been trying to get it to that level. But something inside her had been feeding it in a seemingly nonstop upward charge. Then the upward charge had just... cut off.
She was standing, still bent backwards over the desk, wondering what had just happened, and trying to read the magical energy still lingering in the air from the spell.
Then she noticed how green the light in the room seemed.
She looked down from the ceiling to where the dummy was.
And she saw a veritable rain forest of plant life, illuminated by the small window nearby.
"What?" She asked nobody, since nobody was there.
The dummy, the wall behind the dummy, a little bit of the ceiling, and one hanging lantern that was nearby, were all coated in plant life. Lichens, vines, flowers, branches, and weeds of all kind and color were growing from them as if they had always been there. Even the glass of the window had some grass growing sideways out of it.
She looked down at her finger curiously, then tried to look up at her new antlers. Naturally they remained out of view, so she reached up and touched them.
And found that they were warm to the touch. In fact, they were almost hot.
"Oooooh." She said as she realized one of the problems with her magical abilities. "That's a bit of a problem."
Then she looked down at her belly and placed a hand on it.
"And don't think I didn't notice your part in that." She said. "We're gonna have to talk about that." She tilted her head a bit. "Whenever... you are capable of talking."
Then she began running out of her lab and towards Marcos's tower.

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All codes are US, HD/blu-ray unless marked otherwise
vudu code for rent any movie by March 31, 2023 - $1.00
UHD/4k movies: Disney/Marvel, no DMDMI, all port UHD/4k to MA: itunes redemptions only (splits) $4 each, unless noted otherwise Aladdin (2019) Avengers: Endgame (2019) Avengers: Infinity War (2018) Big Hero 6 (2014) Cars 3 (2017) Finding Dory (2016) Frozen (2013) Frozen II (2019) Good Dinosaur (2015) Maleficent (2014) Star Wars: The Force Awakens (2015) Star Wars: The Last Jedi (2017) The Nutcracker and the Four Realms (2018) Toy Story 4 (2019) Zootopia (2016)
UHD/4k movies: vudu or MA redemptions only, port 4k to MA $3 each, unless noted otherwise none atm
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HD movies, MA or vudu redemptions only, port to MA: $2 each, unless noted otherwise Minions (2015) Planes (2013) $3 The Fate of the Furious (Theatrical) (2017) Turbo (2013)
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HD movies: itunes redemptions only, port HD to MA $2 each, unless noted otherwise none ATM
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Hi, guys. I have been curious about the Makuhero Planet animals that were mind-controlled by the Brains in Hero Factory's 2013 story arc. Basically, I would like to know the names for the creatures' species. The creatures are:

1. Pyrox and his species that are fiery bulls who live in volcanoes.
2. Scarox and his species of gold beetles who live in deserts.
3. Bruizer and his species of tall, rocky ape-like creatures who eat crystals and live on mountains.
4. Ogrum and his species of tall, green ogre-like and ape-like creatures that eat mushrooms and live in jungles.
5. Aquagon and his species of yellow creatures that look like a mix of fish and apes, and they also look kind of like goblins. They live in an ocean and are apparently amphibious.
6. Frost Beast and his species of tall, white yeti-like and ape-like creatures with claws that live in snowy plains.
7. Dragon Bolt and his species of big, blue dragon-like creatures that shoot electric blasts from their mouths. They live in a jungle.

According to that guidebook called Hero Factory Face Off: Makuro's Secret Guidebook, Scarox's species were called "Dune Crawlers", but what about the other six species? I got the book, but when I moved to a new house, it was misplaced somewhere, and I am having a hard time finding it. I hope I didn't lose it. If anyone has his or her own book, could you please tell em the names? If the book doesn't have the names for the six species, I guess I would make up the names of my own. I would call:

1. Pyrox's species as "Lava Bulls".
2. Bruizer's species as "Rock Feeders".
3. Ogrum's species as "Plant Ogres".
4. Aquagon's species as "Sea Goblins".
5. Frost Beast's species as "Claw Yetis".
6. Dragon Bolt's species as "Lightning Dragons".

Hello there a few things about me I am a very genuine kind caring guy easygoing gentle. I am seeking a nice easygoing gentle woman for a serious relationship ideally but I would like to be friends first and have someone to Chat to I’ve been feeling very lonely lately.
It has never appealed to me to be In a relationship with different women and to be with different women I just want one. I am still a virgin and I’ve never done anything meaningless with anyone that also doesn’t appeal to me at all. But I want a woman that wants to have children in the future.
I really want to settle down and get married very much have my own family in the future. I take good care of myself I have never taken drugs I don’t drink heavily and I don’t smoke. I’m really not into being loud or into partying. I am very family orientated family is very important to me. I want this more than anything I just can never seem to find a nice woman.
I am also not liberal and I don’t follow any liberal political movements and I don’t follow woke culture. I also do not follow mainstream media and I am not interested in social media I keep my life off it I am a very private person.
I also do not watch porn I believe it’s causing unrealistic expectations about relationships and addiction issues. I have no unrealistic expectations about sex at all I use my imagination.
Sex should be something that is gentle between both and I would not want to be rough. I also don’t want to be having sex too early on too I believe you should not rush into this.
I am 6ft 4 dark blonde hair hazel eyes rugby player build very broad shouldered. Big hands big feet I am also quite strong and I have a lot of energy. No tattoos or piercings and I have a naturally smooth body no hairy chest or back and not much on my arms or legs either. I do not aspire to look like men on social media or reality tv or on movies or tv shows. I also have a very manly deep voice and I’ve been told by women that it’s lovely.
I love food I am a big foodie! I cook from scratch and I enjoy eating out In nice restaurants. I go to the gym regularly and I swim I am a very strong swimmer I enjoy swimming very much. I love classical music I often listen to classic FM in the UK. I love red wine also I don’t like drinking much beer at all. I love to travel and explore new places and seeing museums. I also like to read a good book too. I also love photography and I would love to show you some of my photography work once we get talking for a bit.
When it comes to what I like in a woman I do love and I’m very attracted to feminine lady like women that embrace their feminine side. I like women that dress feminine and don’t wear too much makeup. I don’t like fake nails or fake tan. I like women that dress conservatively and modestly and don’t show too much off.
Sorry but I’m not attracted to masculine women as well as women that show too much off. I also prefer a natural body on a Woman too I do love women that keep themselves completely natural all over. I like a nice kind caring easygoing gentle woman I won’t get on with strong minded women and If your too into being independent you won’t be for me sorry
I want to get to know you slowly and not rush into it ideally I’d like to be friends first with each other. Please mention milkshakes in your message and Include your age and location! Any messages that don’t contain milkshakes I will not respond to you also say more than hi or hello in your first message.

Hello there a few things about me I am a very genuine kind caring guy easygoing gentle. I am seeking a nice easygoing gentle woman for a serious relationship ideally but I would like to be friends first and have someone to Chat to I’ve been feeling very lonely lately.
It has never appealed to me to be In a relationship with different women and to be with different women I just want one. I am still a virgin and I’ve never done anything meaningless with anyone that also doesn’t appeal to me at all. But I want a woman that wants to have children in the future.
I really want to settle down and get married very much have my own family in the future. I take good care of myself I have never taken drugs I don’t drink heavily and I don’t smoke. I’m really not into being loud or into partying. I am very family orientated family is very important to me. I want this more than anything I just can never seem to find a nice woman.
I am also not liberal and I don’t follow any liberal political movements and I don’t follow woke culture. I also do not follow mainstream media and I am not interested in social media I keep my life off it I am a very private person.
I also do not watch porn I believe it’s causing unrealistic expectations about relationships and addiction issues. I have no unrealistic expectations about sex at all I use my imagination.
Sex should be something that is gentle between both and I would not want to be rough. I also don’t want to be having sex too early on too I believe you should not rush into this.
I am 6ft 4 dark blonde hair hazel eyes rugby player build very broad shouldered. Big hands big feet I am also quite strong and I have a lot of energy. No tattoos or piercings and I have a naturally smooth body no hairy chest or back and not much on my arms or legs either. I do not aspire to look like men on social media or reality tv or on movies or tv shows. I also have a very manly deep voice and I’ve been told by women that it’s lovely.
I love food I am a big foodie! I cook from scratch and I enjoy eating out In nice restaurants. I go to the gym regularly and I swim I am a very strong swimmer I enjoy swimming very much. I love classical music I often listen to classic FM in the UK. I love red wine also I don’t like drinking much beer at all. I love to travel and explore new places and seeing museums. I also like to read a good book too. I also love photography and I would love to show you some of my photography work once we get talking for a bit.
When it comes to what I like in a woman I do love and I’m very attracted to feminine lady like women that embrace their feminine side. I like women that dress feminine and don’t wear too much makeup. I don’t like fake nails or fake tan. I like women that dress conservatively and modestly and don’t show too much off.
Sorry but I’m not attracted to masculine women as well as women that show too much off. I also prefer a natural body on a Woman too I do love women that keep themselves completely natural all over. I like a nice kind caring easygoing gentle woman I won’t get on with strong minded women and If your too into being independent you won’t be for me sorry
I want to get to know you slowly and not rush into it ideally I’d like to be friends first with each other. Please mention milkshakes in your message and Include your age and location! Any messages that don’t contain milkshakes I will not respond to you also say more than hi or hello in your first message.

With my university graduation right around the corner, it has been my longstanding goal to get myself a brand new rig as a "you made it through 4 years" present. I love my i5-8600k and 1060 desktop, but its started squelching and rumbling a bit too much for my taste, so I'm in the market for a complete makeover.
The original plan was to get myself a new desktop along with a makeover of my room. However, some plans have changed for the better. This summer, I'll be traveling for personal pleasure and to study abroad. While I'll also be pursuing my MA next fall and spring, I plan on moving and working abroad once that's finished. So I came to the decision that getting a giant new rig and setup would be a bit too much of a hassle. I wouldn't want to drop my entire budget on a desktop only to be constantly moving around. So, a laptop has become my best bet.
Being outside of the loop of the gaming laptop market, I figured coming here would be best. I've been doing some digging myself, but I tend to be the guy who flip flops 400 times before a purchase and always makes the wrong one. Buying a nice laptop 4 years ago might've saved me the price of an iPad Pro, MacBook, and a SteamDeck, and although I love all of these things, there's always a major compromise that leaves a certain part of me often disappointed.
Something that popped up was the Asus Strix Scar 16 with the 4080 from this year. It's been tough to find info or stock of these newer laptops, but after seeing a couple of videos and reviews, these laptops seem to be real beasts. While I'm not one for flashiness, I actually found myself liking the crazy RGB of the Strix Scar, and the 16th inch seems a good size to take where I plan on going while also having connectivity to support linking up to a monitor and making it a desktop-like experience. And that mini-LED screen...it's just pretty. The price is also hard to beat, and it seems to be cooled very efficiently.
Then a massive wrench was thrown in my goop brain: Razer. No matter the amount of horror stories I hear, or the price tag, I've always loved the way Razers have looked since way back when my cousin had that roundish Blade 14. I mean, I bought a MacBook. Clearly, price means nothing in the face of aesthetics and sleekness. My dream laptop is probably that Blade 14 mercury edition, but I've come to understand that those laptops just have a harder time pushing out power in that form factor. They look great and perform great, but I want something that's really gonna last and be the ultimate machine for at least until I'm able to settle down and build a PC of my own.
I also looked at the newer Blade 16, but found that, although that screen is nice, I'd rather have a 4080 or 4090 than a 4070, and no ethernet port is kind of a bummer, even if this can be solved by a dongle (truthfully, I'm tired of dongles). Then came the 18. I really like the way this laptop looks. Massive yet still thin, and although less portable than a 16 inch, still able to be lugged around on trips to it's next desk-stination. I like the ethernet, I love the SD card slot, I cherish the simple style (again, MacBook brainlet), and I enjoy the overall package. But, with great Razer comes great price-tag. At nearly a thousand smackers more than the Strix for the 4080 (and, from what I've seen, arguably worse performace), and an arm and a leg for a 4090, I've really been thrown.
On one hand, the Strix seems like the no brainer. Numbers wise, it's just the clear winner. Mini-led, price, RGB, performance. It all adds up to what should be an easy decision. But I'm a poor decision maker. I figure, if I'm going all out, might as well go all out. I love the look of the Razer more and more, and if I'm comparing the 4080, might as well jump up to the 4090 at $4,500! This is replacing a desktop, so that's no problem! But I also want to be practical. I guess I'm looking for an angel AND a devil on each shoulder. If you think the Strix is a no brainer like the smart, calculating side of my brain, let me know! Tell me how smooth that Mini-LED screen is and how great an extra $2000 in my pocket will feel. But if you're like the emotionally unstable part of my brain, tell me that the Razer really is just that good. That even though it's a premium price tag, the 4090 version inside that chassis could never look or feel so good.
Alternatively, drop some other recommendations! I know MSI is very popular, but that's just a bit too big for me. If I want size, I want it to look well. Otherwise, I'm in the market for 16 inches that can do a bit of both. If you've read this far, thanks! I hope it wasn't boring. I'm just a person struggling to make a decision, so any input at this stage is appreciated. Give me the pros and cons, your own experiences, biases, and whatnot. I just wanna hear some more info on these, if anyone has any!

I have two big questions about the existence of god that trouble me.
1) Why does God hide? If god created the universe, then why did he create it the way that he did? Why is it so difficult to prove he exists? I’ve heard people say the world is proof of god but I don’t see how that’s logically sound. The existence of the world does not prove the existence of God.
I don’t understand why God makes it impossible to rationalize his existence. I don’t think it’s reasonable to expect faith to be the basis for belief, because faith cannot reliably determine truth. Also, why did god decide the best way to transmit his message was through a book written by men that is no more reliable than any other man made book?
2) Why is all the suffering in the world necessary? I understand it can be argued that evil is not incompatible with an omnipotent God, because God will make everything right in the end. I can follow this line of thinking to an extent, but I don’t understand why the evil and suffering is necessary in the first place? I don’t understand why there is no alternative option than allowing children to starve to death. I also don’t understand why God made humans knowing they would sin, and then punished them for it.
I would appreciate some clarity on these issues.