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I don’t really know how to do this but I need advice. I, F 21, haven’t always had the best luck in my relationships. My last one consisted of two years of trauma from a guy who couldn’t stay loyal to me to save his life. I completely lost myself in that relationship, so when it ended I spent the next year and a half focusing on healing and bettering myself. Then I met my current partner, M 21. Meeting him has felt like the best thing thats happened to me. He’s everything I could’ve asked for and more, he’s raised every bar. And everyone in my life that’s met him instantly loves him. We’ve been together for a year and a half now.
After everything in my last relationship I told myself that before going into a new one I wanted to talk to the person first about what each other’s boundaries might be, that way if there’s any issues they could be talked about before things got too serious. So that’s exactly what I did with my current relationship. For me, there are three main things that due to my past I’m just not comfortable with my partner doing. One and two are similar and for the same reasons, I don’t feel comfortable with my partner following half naked girls on social media, and I don’t want them going on OnlyFans. I don’t really have an issue with porn, but those two things just feel really personal to me while porn feels more disconnected.. I don’t know how to explain I guess.. And my last thing is I just don’t want to be lied to, especially not about big things. When I told my boyfriend that he said he felt the same way and that there wouldn’t be any issues.
Recently my boyfriend was telling me about some post someone made and wanted to show me. We were sitting next to each other, he pulled out his phone, opened Instagram and went to the search bar. That’s when we both end up seeing that his search history is filled with half naked girls. I immediately asked what the deal was and his answer was just he didn’t know. Or that he hadn’t looked someone up in a long time so he didn’t know. I started feeling anxiety attack approaching and felt this slight fight or flight instinct kick in. In hindsight, I know a lot of other people wouldn’t be upset over this kind of thing, but it was one of my boundaries being crossed and it triggered a lot of emotions for me. I impulsively took his phone out of his hand and started looking through the app. I didn’t even know what I was looking for, I just kept tapping and asking if he was hiding something. He stayed quiet, watched the floor and let me do my thing. Then I end up clicking on something that said “Links you’ve visited”. I didn’t know about it before but it’s pretty self explanatory. It tells you what links you’ve visited through the Instagram app and when. Looking at his, it was instantly clear that each one were links to OF accounts. And sure enough when I revisited them they each took me to a different girls page. ((Notable dates I saw include my birthday, Valentine’s Day & our anniversary)) At this point we’re both crying and I’m seeing red. I ask him about the links and he just keeps saying he doesn’t know. Then at some point the story changes to he had an account before we met and he would watch people but stopped when we got together, but that he still occasionally gets emails from them so he wanted to delete his account but can’t remember the log in info. I tell him it wouldn’t make sense for Instagram to be saying he went to all these different links on so many different days if he was really just wanting to delete it and could’ve done that through the emails he was supposedly getting. ((I saw no evidence of there ever being any emails)) He still stuck with his story. Finally I just say “So what you’re telling me is you had an account that you wanted to delete and you thought the best way to do it was by going on instagram, looking up multiple specific girls by name, and clicking the link in their bio that takes you to their personal OF page?” I thought saying that would make him hear how dumb I thought it sounded. But instead he just looked me straight in the eyes and said “Yes.” At that point it felt like all three of my boundaries had been crossed and I felt defeated. By then it was late and we had to be up early for work. We both just broke down crying and tried to talk it out, then went to bed. I told myself I was going to think it over and figure out what I wanted to do the next day. Well, it’s been two weeks now and nothing’s happened but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. I don’t like feeling like I’m being lied to, especially when it’s about something that could determine my decision on whether or not I want to stay with him.
((There is one other thing that I think is important to know, there was one other time where he crossed a boundary for me. It was earlier on in our relationship and again with IG, he was scrolling through his feed when I look over and noticed it’s all naked girls. We had a little disagreement about it and he said he’d unfollow them. He did unfollow them but there was one girl in particular, we’ll call her Abby, who he followed like six different accounts of hers, I got really in my head about it and secretly compared my body to hers for weeks. Well when this thing happened the other day Abby OF’s was one of the links visited recently. Which makes everything more suspicious for me. ))
I’ve broken down and brought it back up a few times, but his story stays the same. It seemed so impossible to believe at first, and even still… But I want to believe him so bad that a part of me does. He’s just so convincing. And in all other aspects has been a dream. I don’t know what to believe anymore.. I’ve never been on OF before, so maybe I just don’t know how it works? Could he be telling the truth? He swears up and down that he is… I guess I’m asking if other people think he’s lying. Or if someone knows something about how it all works, that I don’t. I don’t know what to do, I could really use anything..

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“The Answer to the Great Question … Of Life, the Universe and Everything … Is … Is … Forty-two.” - Deep Thought
One cannot understate the popularity of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. Beginning as a radio series in 1978 and later spawning a hexalogy of novels, Douglas Adams’ series following the misadventures of Arthur Dent drew international acclaim for its charm and wit. The most significant pop culture contribution of the franchise might be the number 42: the answer to the meaning of life, as declared by supercomputer Deep Thought.
Although Hitchhiker’s Guide drew nearly unanimous praise from the public and critics alike, its rise in cultural relevance brewed some controversy in Christian circles. This controversy materialized mostly in the United States, whose “Satanic panic” of the 1980s coincided with the meteoric rise of Hitchhiker’s Guide in pop culture. Admittedly, Douglas Adams’ series was not subject to the same intense scrutiny that Christians aimed at the likes of Dungeons & Dragons. Nonetheless, Pan Books, the publisher of the Hitchhiker’s Guide series of books, still received several letters from angry parents accusing Adams of “demonic” rhetoric—largely because he said the meaning of life is 42, and not seeking salvation through God and Christ.
Predictably, Pan Books was unfazed by the accusations, insomuch that they—nor Douglas Adams, a self-described “radical atheist”—never published a formal response to critics. Still, for the most dogmatic Christians, Hitchhiker’s Guide was another effort for popular media to corrupt children by implanting diabolical notions of life’s purpose. This came to a head in 1984, in the small Louisiana town of Moss Bluff.
Laying on the outskirts of Lake Charles, Moss Bluff’s population stood at around 10,000, according to the 1980 U.S. Census results. Despite Louisiana’s high poverty rate, Moss Bluff was an affluent town with a thriving Christian population. Central to the town’s culture was the Moss Bluff Pentecostal Church and its young and charismatic pastor, Reverend Jonathan Logan.
Logan wasn’t a native to Louisiana, originally hailing from a rural town in Texas, but his arrival in 1979 marked a turning point for the Church. Logan prided himself on being in touch with the interests of young people, and his sermons frequently discussed the troubles and anxieties of growing up, parental expectations, and bullying in schools. While his style was initially controversial among the older conservatives in his audience, he produced an infusion of religious enthusiasm among children and teens alike that silenced even his most staunch opponents.
One of Reverend Logan’s most frequent appeals to young people was his reliance on pop culture references. His sermons often used characters or ideas from popular media as allegories for religious morals (in one notable speech, he carefully analyzed how the Force from Star Wars was an embodiment of the Holy Spirit, which culminated in a standing ovation from audience members). In order to remain relevant, Logan had to keep a steady eye on the interests of his younger audience—occasionally blinding him to the fears of his elder viewers.
When Reverend Logan casually joked about the meaning of life being 42 before delving into a legitimate speech about how Arthur Dent’s pursuit of meaning parallels the need for a cultural reconciliation with God, he unknowingly stepped on a landmine. Beginning with quiet whispers, his audience began trickling out of Moss Bluff Pentecostal Church, children in tow. More than half of his weekly attendants left before the end of his sermon—some of their own volition, most from the peer pressure of their “anti-Satanic” brethren.
What ensued was a sixteen-week boycott by 40% of Moss Bluff Pentecostal Church’s congregation. Reverend Logan repeatedly attempted to understand the outrage of his elder audience, but—incensed by the realization that their young community leader had been spreading Satanic propaganda since 1979—they insisted that the only way they would end the boycott would be through Logan’s resignation.
Facing pressure from other church leaders, and newly cynical towards a town that rejected him on such nonsensical grounds, Jonathan Logan resigned from his position as a pastor on August 20th, 1984. Two weeks later, Logan left Moss Bluff and disappeared from the public record. Ironically, his replacement’s name was Adams.

Part 1
I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know what to think even.
Emily knows my biological mom?
“Why didn’t you tell me before?” I asked.
Emily’s smile was as thin as ice. “I didn’t think you were ready. Now you are.”
“Ready for what?”
“You’ll know soon enough. Sleep tight, Skye. You have to go to school tomorrow.”
I couldn’t sleep. All I saw, in my nightmares and painted on the ceiling, was Alfie’s face. He whispered my name while I dreamed and wriggled into my happiest memories. I woke up screaming as his body twisted and swelled.
We will meet again. Alfie hissed through a series of clicks.
It was too quiet when I woke up the next morning. I was used to Emily yelling for me to wake up for school or my dad rushing to get dressed for work and brushing his teeth or the smell of burned bacon and pancakes and eggs down from the kitchen. Or at the very least Alfie ringing my ears off to tell me he was waiting too long outside.
But the silence whispered through the halls, sneaking into my room and tickling my heart. I rubbed my eyes and sat with my knees tucked against my chest, watching the sun rise. The sky was lit in gold as the darkness slithered away, but it was as if dawn had never arrived at all.
I got dressed and headed downstairs. At that point I realised exactly why the house was so quiet and my heart stopped cold.
Most of the stuff we owned was packed up into boxes; and anything that was too big was covered by translucent tarps. Emily and my dad were huddled together in the kitchen. They looked so lost, so hollow, like they’d just come back from Alfie’s funeral and had not stopped crying since.
“Hey morning,” I said tersely.
“Morning,” Emily said. She still wasn’t looking at me. “Did you sleep well or do you still look like a panda bear?”
“Ha ha.” I made myself some coffee. It tasted like muddy water.
Emily looked at the clock. “You better hurry up or you’ll be late for school, Sleepy Skye.”
“But—” The night before was still spinning in my mind. Questions bubbled to the back of my throat, dying on my lips.
Emily placed a hand on my shoulder.
“Don’t worry, Skye. I’ll explain more later when the time is right.”
School felt like forever. All of my classes passed in a blur. Everyone avoided me like the plague, and whispered behind their hands when I walked past. I didn’t really care. I rested my head on my hands and wished Alfie was here. Whispering that everything would be okay.
Creak
When the last bell rang I plodded through the halls. The chatter around me had blended into a monotonous stream of nothing. I looked around me and saw Alfie’s face around me, in the couples making out near the lockers, in the teenagers huddled together like penguins.
My heart ached again.
Alfie…
My dad’s van was waiting for me at the school entrance, coughing up smoke like an old, retired dragon. It was jammed full of boxes and things wrapped in bubble paper. I was surprised it could even move a centimetre without something breaking inside.
“Hop in Skye,” said my dad, poking his head out of one window.
“Um, where are we going?”
“To my old place,” Emily explained, poking her head out of the other window. “I—we—thought it would be good for you, for…for the both of us.”
“After…after…y’know.”
Alfie died.
The wind was still once more, as if mourning over him in its deep grief too. I crumbled against the side of the van, letting hot tears stream down my cheeks.
Alfie…
Without a word more I climbed into the van and my dad sped off immediately. I gazed outside the window, watching country roads blend into billboards and highways, and let the van rock me into a soothing sleep.
“We’re here. Wake up, Sleepy Skye.”
Emily’s house, as it turned out, was a two-storey monster tucked away from the heart of the city. The paint was peeling away and the bricks underneath were slick with slime. Mold crawled between the bricks and stayed there, dying the house green. I turned away and nearly threw up.
“This way,” Emily said, climbing a set of stairs. It was really dark, and everything was covered in shadow. The only source of light was a small Gothic window that shone through the gloom in a weak white arm. Set at the side of the stairwell was a black iron door. I started towards it, but Emily glared at me, so I abandoned the door and followed her.
The second floor was surprisingly well-kept. The floors were swept and the walls clean of dust. Picture frames depicting bugs and scarabs hung onto the wall, polished until it shone. There was even a pot of tea on the table.
“Knock yourself out,” Emily said as she collapsed onto the couch. She closed her eyes.
“Make yourself at home.”
“It stinks,” I observed, wrinkling my nose.
In fact it was the worst stink I had ever smelled in my life. It tore through the walls and floors like it was made of paper and I gagged. I sprinted to the window, stuck my head out and breathed in relief.
Emily raised an eyebrow.
“There’s some…construction going on downstairs,” she explained. “We just got here, so bear with it a little longer, okay Skye?”
“Yeah,” I choked. My eyes were watering. If I could see the smell it would be a big black cloud hovering in the air, howling and shaking in its stinky fury.
“Can I explore the city? I need some fresh air.”
“Go ahead,” Emily said, turning away. “Just be back for dinner.”
I nodded. I had never sprinted out of my old house so fast in my life, rubbing my smarting eyes. Even at the distance I could smell it, and once again I felt like throwing up.
After some time I slowed to a walk and really started to look around. It wasn’t much of a city—and it also wasn’t much of a town—but somewhere in between. It was getting quite late in the day with the sun streaming slowly in from the west, but the town felt…alive in a way. Shopkeepers hollered their wares from the inside of their ornate walls, and people were strolling on the streets, their arms interlocked laughing and whistling.
I tried not to think of Alfie.
A couple of blocks away I saw a large diner, its neon sign beckoning me inside. Getting closer I could smell heaven: char-grilled meats, fresh cakes and cookies, and something else in a fryer or oven.
My stomach growled. I wiped off my drool with my sleeves.
Pushing the door open, I went in.
The diner was abuzz with chatter and laughter; people were toasting each other with glasses of beer and ale. Yet everything died the moment I came in. Time stood still; heads swiveled to look at me and a collective gasp rose from the frozen crowd. I felt like an animal in a zoo as I navigated through the chaos and found a table to sit.
“Don’t mind ‘em.”
The speaker was a living Popeye, with a big, floppy nose and bigger arms that bulged with muscles and fat and a tattoo of a beetle instead of an anchor. He was wearing a greasy, bloody apron and a cap that was too small for a nest of blonde hair.
“It’s been a while since we had anyone new around here. Thirteen years, in fact. Also, hold on…”
He squinted hard at me, his eyes moving from my head down to my legs.
“Are you Skye?”
Goosebumps pricked my skin once more. I looked outside and realised the wind had once again stood still.
“Yes! How do you know?”
The man opposite me thought for a moment, then shouted something to the kitchens. Then he sat down opposite me and grinned, revealing yellowed teeth.
“Your stepmom talks about you a lot. She adores you, you know.”
He cupped my head in his hands and brushed a lock of hair off my head. Tears welled in his eyes.
“You look a lot like your mom. Same face, same eyes.”
He knocked on my face like it was a piece of wood.
Click clock
“Rock solid too.”
My hair stood up on my skin as I stared straight into the eyes of this man who I just met.
“Y-you know my biological mom too?”
The man’s smile grew even wider. “Let’s just say…kind of.”
He extended his hand. “I’m sorry I haven’t introduced myself earlier. Call me Mr Lancaster. I’m the owner here.”
“I’m pleased to meet you too,” I replied, shaking his hand.
“Boss? Everything is ready.”
One of the waiters skidded to a halt near our table. He was a handsome youth—freckles and curly red hair. He held out a huge plastic bag to me.
Mr Lancaster smiled at me in a way that made my heart melt.
“Fish and chips. And I threw in some strawberry milkshakes as well. It’s one of our best dishes on the menu. Emily is always going on and on about how crazy you are for ‘em.”
“Wow! Thank you Mr Lancaster!”
“It’s on the house too. A welcome gift from me. Tell your stepmom she doesn’t have to pay back a single cent.”
He glanced out at the darkening sky, sweat mopping his brow.
“You better be going now. It’s getting late. See you soon, Skye. You’re always welcome here.”
And with that, he practically shoved me out of the door.
The bell tinkled as I stumbled onto the street, nearly tripping over the food. It was really heavy, mind you. Like a thousand dumb-bells made out of solid gold. By the time I reached my flat my arms ached.
I dropped the takeaway on the floor and sat down on one of the stairs to rest. The sun had completely set at this point; long, thin shadows crawled across the wall to the corners. Soon I was plunged in darkness. I could barely see my hand in front of my face.
My vision suddenly cleared, and I realised I could see. Somehow. Dark shapes shifted and twisted before my eyes, but I could still make out details of every brick, every scratch on the stairs and wall. The takeaway sat untouched before me.
It was like looking through an extremely grainy CCTV.
BANG BANG BANG!
As the bangs echoed throughout the hallway I froze, the excitement of my discovery gone.
BANG BANG BANG!
SKYYYYYYYYYYYYYEEEEEE!
My name was shouted with great abandon, the call tinged with sorrow and pain. I inched closer and realised that it was coming from the iron door.
SKYYYYYYYYYYEEEEEEEE!
Whoever was calling me was thrashing against the door, making the hinges shake. I backed away, my heart in my throat. All the hair on my skin was standing up straight.
BANG BANG BANG!
The stink slapped me in the face, making my nose itch. My eyes didn’t leave the door as I scrambled up the stairs to the main apartment, leaving everything in the dust.
It was only when I slammed the door behind me and sprinted down the hallway to my bedroom did I realise I forgot the takeaway still sitting at the bottom of the stairs.
Oh well I told myself, trying to calm my shaking heart. I can go back in a few minutes.
I’m sure Emily and Dad won’t mind.
The city had fallen asleep. The hustle and bustle seemed to have vanished with the last of the sun. The streets were illuminated faintly with lamps that shone like a halo. My room looked like it belonged in a horror movie.
I lay on my bed for a while, squeezing my eyes shut and listening to my heart beat. The screams had long died down, but I somehow heard them long and clear in my mind, as if blasted by an invisible loudspeaker.
SKYEEEEEEE!
Low and loud, like a foghorn from a ship lost at sea.
SKYEEEEEEEEE!
“Shut up!” I screamed, my eyes welling with tears. I curled up in a ball and squeezed my head with my pillow. Even then the screams rammed against the sides of my head, over and over again, and I was dizzy from the pain.
Eventually I got out of bed and wandered throughout the house, hoping for something to distract myself from the eternal noise. The apartment was shaded in the same grainy darkness, except for the dining-room, which was glowing invitingly like a crackling campfire. Something clanged and tinkled. Cutlery probably. Either Emily or my dad setting the table. My stomach grumbled. The smell from the diner was making me hungry.
I started towards the dining room but then I heard it. A strange chitter-chatter. Like crickets, even though we lived so far from nature.
It was coming from the pictures hanging on the wall.
I hadn’t paid much attention to them when I first came in, but now it was drawing me closer like a moth to a flame. The bugs chittered again, and their legs twisted and struggled, almost like it was dancing. Looking closer, I realised that all the pictures depicted the same figure. A woman in various poses with the head of a bug with too-large eyes. She was wearing a dress that shone like fire and was glaring at the camera.
“Mom?”
I clapped my hand over my mouth. I didn’t know where that came from. I looked nothing like her. I didn’t know her. It was my first time seeing her.
But Alfie…
No, no, no! I’m mad! I must be going mad! It’s the screams, I thought, the screams were driving me cuckoo! Making me think crazy thoughts!
I forced myself to look away and shove those thoughts out of my mind. I didn’t know what to believe anymore.
“Skye? Dinner time!”
Emily’s calls broke through the confusing mess in my head. I was grateful that she came to my rescue. Glancing back at the photo of my mum (no, she isn’t! How can I be related to…that?), I scurried down the hallway and into the dining room.
Emily had saved the takeaway.
It sat between us on the newly-dusted table. Emily pulled out foil containers and set one each before me and my dad.
“Mr Lancaster called about the fish and chips,” she explained. “He was delighted to have met you, Skye.”
She ruffled my hair, and chuckled as she handed me a strawberry milkshake. “But it looked like his little delivery girl got cold feet on her first order, eh?”
“Emily!” I groaned. I took a long sip and licked my lips. The milkshake was delicious. Rich, creamy and filled with enough sugar to make my insulin go straight into overdrive.
“Hey,” I noted, sitting down after a while. The pure sweetness of that drink was enough to make my head spin. “Mr Lancaster made some extra fish and chips.”
And it stank too. Almost as much as whatever is behind that iron door.
“Oh, that’s nothing,” Emily said quickly, sweeping the bag off the table and rushing it to the kitchen. “Mr Lancaster always makes me extra. He knows I’m always hungry after midnight!”
I chuckled nervously, feeling the weight of my worries lift off my shoulders. Emily did eat a lot after midnight. A couple of times I had spotted her sneaking to the living room with the television on and a bag of chips.
Yet this particular container stuck out like a sore thumb. Not just the smell, or how big it was compared to the others, but…but, was it me or was it glowing?
I buried that thought into the deepest recesses of my mind. No. I had enough wild and crazy thoughts and visions for one night.
Succumbing to them was not what Alfie would have wanted.
That was not what any of us would have wanted.
Once we had finished dinner, I helped to clear the table and wash the cutlery. Emily turned to me and said:
“I’ve got some things to do tonight. Take care, Skye, and take care of your dad.”
“He does not look well.”
Sick actually. Dad looked like he was going to throw up. He staggered to the couch and passed out on the leather. I couldn’t help but pity him. Fifty-six years old, and all that oil into the fish and chips was not doing his heart any good.
“I’ll look after him,” I promised.
“Good girl.” Emily gave me another thin smile. She pulled on a jacket—a black jacket with a golden rim—and gave me a kiss on my forehead.
“I won’t be long.”
Emily strode out of the house, taking the last box of fish and chips with her. There was something clinking in her pocket, like suits or armor banging together. And just as she stepped out of the front door, she pulled out that something from her pocket. I only saw it for a brief second, but it was enough to make my heart race.
It was a key. But not just any key.
This one was black. Like evil. Like ash. Like the iron door.
It smirked at me as it hid back in her pocket. A shiver ran up my spine.
“Emily, wait!”
“Is there a problem, Skye?”
“Yeah. I wanna ask you something.”
I took a deep, shaky breath. There was a lump in my throat and my heart was beating way too fast.
“The iron door on the first floor…what’s behind it?”
“It’s nothing, Skye,” Emily said. Her eyes darted to somewhere behind me and fixed on one of the bug women. “Just some of my old stuff, y’know? From before I met your dad?”
“Right…”
“Now I have to go. I’ll be late otherwise. I’ll see you later, okay Skye?”
I swallowed as I watched her leave. Uncertainty still sat tight in my stomach, wound up like a spring, and wouldn’t let go.
“Dad? You okay?”
No response. My dad was out like a light.
Then his eyes shot open.
I gulped.
They got bigger and bigger. I saw each individual vein popping out and weaving into each other like mini spider webs.
Then it bulged and swelled. His head enlarged to accommodate it.
Chills shot down my spine as I realised exactly what was going on.
“Dad?”
Click click click.
His lips split and burst into mandibles. I scrambled over and held his hand.
“Don’t do this to me. Don’t be like Alfie.”
I was crying. I was shaking. Oh god, I was shaking so bad it felt like I was in an earthquake.
Click click click
I scrambled over and held his hand. It only seemed to make it worse, however. I watched as it shrank and turned black and folded into itself.
“Dad! Fight it!”
He hunched over and coughed out so much more blood.
Ack ack ack
“DAD!”
His spine was curving over and hardening into a black shell. I dropped his hand and backed away into a corner, my face white.
Ack ack ack.
The floor was blooming. Grass spread thin like a carpet and tall trees grew. I saw red flowers explode onto new branches, like a bundle of fireworks.
My dad clicked and clacked, as if enjoying the new scenery.
No…
My skin was crawling. Literally. I looked down and saw bumps pulsing beneath the folds, marching along to my heartbeat. Then it broke and a cockroach popped out. It took a deep breath, bowed, clicked and clacked in the same rhythm as my dad’s—slow and steady, a pulse—
And…
And I SWEAR I heard the cockroach say:
“Your Highness.”
I screamed. It bounced off new grass and fresh flora.
I’m really going mad now.
I pinched myself, wondering if I was living in some kind of nightmare. But I wasn’t. It was as real as the still lights from the street lamps shining in through the window.
Click clack.
More cockroaches were spilling out from my skin like a dam left unchecked. My dad looked at me inquisitively. Cement was quickly turning into dirt.
Click clack
My thoughts were clambering over each other as I squatted, paralysed in my corner, watching the cockroaches with my mouth open. My dad—no longer human—crawled into the walls and towards me. Staring at the roaches and slowly reaching out to them. They squeaked and climbed over him.
This was too much. I did the only thing I could think of.
My phone was butter in my hands. My vision blurred and I kept on punching in the wrong numbers.
Thankfully, Emily answered the phone on the first ring.
I took a deep breath and screamed into the receiver. My voice was shaking so bad I was surprised I could say anything at all.
“EMILY! HELP!”
SK

The act of creating a dictionary is an astonishingly difficult task. When assembling a compendium of all words in a given language, the most immediate challenge is simply collecting every word. Recent editions of the Oxford English Dictionary claim that there are approximately 170,000 words in the English language, but other sources claim that there are hundreds of thousands more.
This deviation can be partially attributed to another problem when creating a dictionary: the matter of which words are words. Regional dialects, slang, and different spellings of the same word all boost that hypothetical word count, but their “legitimacy” as words often depend on the judgment of a dictionary’s author. For example, the word “ain’t” has been in the public lexicon since the 17th century, but it didn’t appear in a dictionary until 1830. Assembling a dictionary that offers a truly descriptive look at a language’s vocabulary requires intense cultural awareness, historical research, and a pinch of good-natured subjectivity.
Noah Webster was aware of language’s subjectivity when he published A Compendious Dictionary of the English Language in 1806 and An American Dictionary of the English Language in 1828, but he tried to base his subjectivity in measurable research. Webster’s 1828 effort was especially remarkable, as the Connecticut native took up 26 different languages to understand the roots of American dialect. Webster’s efforts produced a gold standard for American dictionaries, and the breadth of his research offered a legitimacy to his final product that contemporary lexicographers—who exclusively roamed in elite, northeastern circles—could not match.
Despite the impressive research behind Webster’s dictionary, he occasionally invoked creative license. Most famously, A Compendious Dictionary of the English Language dropped the “u” from words like “colour,” “honour,” and “humour,” and the “k” from words like “musick” and “publick.” These tweaks, while subtle, aimed to separate the burgeoning American identity from its British roots. This change also saw the rearrangement of letters in certain words, such as “centre” becoming “center,” and “perimetre” becoming “perimeter.” The vast majority of these changes saw little pushback, even in affluent, Europhilic circles. However, one exception stands out.
In his initial drafts of A Compendious Dictionary of the English Language, “theatre” received a similar treatment to the other “–re” words, becoming “theater.” Here, though, Webster received significant pushback from the American theatrical community of actors and playwrights, who considered theater to be a distinctly European institution.
Their claim wasn’t meritless, either. Since early American dramatists rarely received compensation from locals for their work, prominent writers like James Nelson Baker and Samuel Woodworth instead relied on gratuities from British patrons of the arts to financially support their plays. Further compounding this belief was the frequency with which European shows were simply adapted in the U.S., rather than encouraging the production of original American shows. From the perspective of those involved with theater, Webster’s dictionary attempted to Americanize a concept that America hadn’t earned yet. As one disgruntled playwright wrote in a 1807 letter to Webster, “[y]ou should not give to America that whose Soul resides across the Sea.”
This created a conundrum for Noah Webster. As a celebrated lexicographer, it was his duty to show language in its most authentic form. Since playwrights—as one of the occupations most concerned with the minutiae of language—were some of his most frequent readers, he also had a reputation at stake. If the theatrical community condemned Webster’s dictionary as illegitimate on the grounds of identifying “theatre” incorrectly, it could jeopardize his status as an authority on language. That being said, Webster was also a proud American that wanted to distinguish his country from its European origins. To revert “theater” to “theatre” would be a small yet symbolic reversion to British norms that risked undermining the new country’s unique linguistic identity.
In the end, Webster opted to conform to his critics’ wishes. All additions of A Compendious Dictionary after 1808 reverted to “theatre,” and An American Dictionary of the English Language used the same Anglicized spelling. However, Webster snuck in a final protest. One of the definitions of “theatre” reads as follows: “A place of action or exhibition; as the theater of the world.”
Nowadays, “theater” and “theatre” are used almost interchangeably. Some communities refer to “theatre” as a performance art, while “theater” describes the structure where said art takes place (for example, Brown University offers a major in Theatre Arts & Performance Studies). Even this distinction is far from universal, though (for example, Harvard College offers a major in Theater, Dance & Media—their omission of the Oxford comma invites a discussion that exceeds the scope of my analysis). As time passes and language continues the inevitable process of simplification, it seems likely that “theatre” will go the way of “centre” and “perimetre.” Nonetheless, nobody would be able to say that “theatre” went down without a fight.

Hi everyone.
For some context, I'm a first year Aerospace student. I go to one of the top universities in my country and have a pretty deep-rooted passion for aircraft, but I've really been struggling mentally recently; not only from this transition that has been much harder than I thought from high school to University, but everything that is going on with AI at the moment which has made me feel useless and has got me into this habit of using it to solve problems.
I'm very invested in GPT-4, and I still can't get over how quickly it can solve problems and to the depth it explains it. It just keeps getting better, and whenever I can't solve a problem, I put it into ChatGPT and get it to solve it for me. Afterwards, I feel absolutely awful. It's like watching an X-rated video only to feel disgraced after release; literally that feeling. I know using ChatGPT is literally long-term career suicide, but the assignments I've had have left me really burnt out (I know I'm a first year, I'm sure its nothing to people well into uni), and I keep resorting to this 'easier' option to solve problems, when I said to myself when it got released that I would only use it as a learning tool, not a replacement.
As an example, if I'm feeling the pressure and I have a quiz due one night, I use ChatGPT to answer most of the questions. It feels absolutely horrible as I know cheating is unfair for other students, but I cannot describe the impulse I get to use ChatGPT because it just makes life so 'easy.' Then, I delude myself into thinking I've learnt something once I've quickly skimmed over the information it spits out, and then I continue.
GPT4 has really upped the game too. It rarely gets complex math wrong now and I feel like I'm spiralling out of control. I really need some way to force myself to stop, but I don't know how. If you want me to drop out, that isn't happening, because I'm certain something can be done and won't give up.
Thanks.

Hello 👋 ASD2 35YOF and I wanted to rant about corporate america and being in the spectrum.
Is it just me, or am I not wired for it? I’ve had great jobs my entire life with very well creditable employers making great money but I’m at an age where I’m tired of being in positions that don’t make sense.
What I mean by that is, as most of you may already know, most ALL of corporate American jobs don’t align with any idea/skill you have as an individual and there’s always a “corporate agenda” that sometimes doesn’t make sense. It’s gotten to the point where I’m over it, I feel like a mouse in a box running up and down mazes.
I started my own business 3 years ago and was extremely successful for being a first time SB owner. Now I’m finishing my BSN and plan to go mobile to branch my services after my license.
But am I the only person on the spectrum who feels this way? It always hit in my 20s but something about my 30s where it hits different. The way many things are being ran are not made for a person to create generational wealth and with favoritism/management who are “stuck following a corporate blueprint” rather than thinking outside of the box, can sometimes be frustrating. I don’t know I’m just over it. I’m also tired of masking for management. Especially in meetings.
I miss the job security but I don’t think I’ll ever want to go back after school. & I need 1k clinical hours/ minimal of a year experience to apply to an NP program and in dreading it. 😞

Hello friends,
I hope you are all well and Spring is around the corner for you as well. Over here, it seems a bit like Spring and November are fighting, with gray & rainy still having the upper hand. At least, days are notably longer now, which helps me to get things done a lot :-)
Thank you for all the generous mail you send my way. It always makes me smile and lifts my spirits, especially on days with bad weather or crappy days at work and is very much appreciated, although I'm late with posting a proper TY.
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u/mikepenpal6: Thank you very much for the pretty Valentine’s card. I love all the cute stickers and washi. Congrats on reaching your reading goal! I haven’t read much lately, but I got 2 smallish books for Christmas, which I plan to start reading soon: “Legends & Lattes” a fantasy book which I vaguely remember also being recommended somewhere on Reddit and the non-fiction book “Thirteen Lessons that saved Thirteen Lives” about the Thai cave rescue. “The Keeper of Happy Endings” also sounds intriguing. Thank you for recommending it!
u/libertyprogrammer x4: Thank you very much for the card and postcards from your travels and sharing your experience, it sounds like you had a wonderful time.
Yes, the stamp I used for the Christmas card is by Tim Holtz. His channel was the first I discovered and liked when searching for tutorials, and I usually end up buying something after watching a new video, lol. So, I mostly use his products, which are also easier to find over here, whereas I struggle to find brands and products from other tutorials, e.g. one's Jennifer McGuire uses often.
Thank you for the happy surprise postcard for RAoC’s birthday! I’m keeping it around my desk 😊
u/ImOKReally x2 Thank you very much for the wonderful handmade postcards. I specially love the bird one. I love all the stamps you used. The one that is covered in stamps also has some cancellation marks that say “cancelled” in German (“entwertet”). I’ve never seen this before and wouldn’t have expected German Post to care, especially since I often receive envelopes with stamps that aren’t cancelled (or only partially).
u/amyt13: Thank you very much for the cute Christmas card and the goodies!
u/BeanutPutterSammich x2: Many thanks for the cute postcard (it looks suspiciously like ImOKReally 😊). Good luck on finding a car! I learned driving with stick, so I don’t know if I could drive automatic (and I also know stories about people driving into random things, because they weren’t used to automatic). However, last time I drove a car myself is so long ago, I’d probably need to start learning all new anyway (too many buttons and electronics in cars nowadays, lol).
Thank you very much for the awesome Valentine’s package! BF and I have a “half year” – anniversary on 15 Feb, so we also skip Valentines or merge it (as you probably know, Valentines isn’t a big thing here anyway).
Have you heard anything about the new season of Picard? After the disappointments of the previous seasons, I wasn’t motivated to check it out yet, but maybe I’ll do some day.
u/CanaMeow x4: Thank you for the “foggy” card, the hilarious “cats on Brandenburg Gate” postcard, the “morning sky” card, the “Mount Rainier” postcard and all the goodies!
I love the stickers, washi and the pens you used and of course the stamps, especially the Apollo 11 one and the one with the fireflies(?). Thank you for sharing the news about your life. Dog sledding sounds so much fun. I think there was a yearly dog sledding competition near my hometown, but I don’t know if they are still able to do it, since there hasn’t been much snow.
Congrats on the foot-rest pillow! That’s something I wouldn’t want to miss since I started using one. At home, I use a meditation cushion that turned out to be too big for me to use for meditation. (Or I sit on it when I need to spread out stuff like stickers all over the floor in order to sort it, lol).
u/DaenerysWon x3: Thank you very much for LNY-mail, the cute Valentine’s card and the St. Patrick’s card. I’m happy to hear there’s some time off for you on the horizon. Your plans sound a lot like plans I would make. I think I’ve checked out one episode of Farscape recently when looking for something new (to me, lol) to watch, but ended up not paying much attention. I’ll give it another try 😊

Final part in the series about the mirroring act between the three Aen Elle elves & their Continental counterparts. Previous works: Black Knights: Parallels Between Eredin & Cahir Love(less) Sorcerers: Parallels Between Avallac'h & Vilgefortz
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“Emperors rule their empires, but two things they cannot rule: their hearts and their time. Those two things belong to the empire.”
“The end justifies the means.”
Leaders of the highest order for their people, both rulers pursue the greater good at the expense of decency and their own humanity. A greater good to be achieved through similar means – by begetting the child who is prophesised.

Intent

In the Witcher, both Auberon and Emhyr are embroiled in a plot of siring the child of prophecy with Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon – their blood relative. Genetically, the incest is a matter of degree: Emhyr is Ciri’s biological father, Auberon Ciri’s ancestor 8 generations past. Symbolically, however, the degree collapses with Auberon because a few human generations are meaningless to elves. They call Ciri Lara’s daughter, effectively deeming Ciri Auberon’s granddaughter. But the reader – not unlike Ciri herself – won’t know about this until the very end of the tale.
Notionally, both rulers bind their actions with Ithlinne’s prophecy. The problem with prophecies is they decouple arguments from verification, lending themselves to the rationalization of all and any action. At least insofar as knowing the future accurately is impossible. This is the case for humanity, it is not the case for elves. Elven prophecies were made by the elves and for the elves in the first place. Consequently, the degree to which each ruler knows the prophecy to be true and believes in it differs. For Emhyr, mystical secret knowledge of the universe is irrelevant in comparison to political expedience: reason of state is what the tomorrow will bring. The Nilfgaardian Emperor is neither a mystic nor a fatalist. Contrary to the Alder King – a Sage, a ruler, and an elder – who has witnessed and likely verified some of what the Seers have prophesised. Elves conceive of the nature of time as cyclical in which the fate of things is tied up in the endless repetition of endings giving birth to new beginnings, the dance of attraction between life and death, two sides of the same coin which form the singular eternal truth of existence – change is only an eternal reoccurrence and re-arrangement of all. Auberon, you see, is a bit of a mystic. And even without Seers privy to secret knowledge, an extraordinary life span reduces the elves’ proclivity to black swan fallacy, or at least pushes the error probabilities. But at the end of the day, mysticism takes the cake.
The idea that either ruler must be the progenitor, however, comes at the instigation of an outside force.
Shortly after Ciri’s birth Emhyr is visited by a sorcerer. Emhyr has a strong aversion to mages; he was cursed by one. Even so, Vilgefortz proves himself capable of helping him regain the Nilfgaardian throne and is straightforward about what he wishes in exchange – gratitude, favours, privileges, power. Vilgefortz tells Emhyr about Ithlinne’s prophecy – a version about the fate of the world; a human interpretation. Then he plants the seed as to what Emhyr should do to steer the fate of this world. Naturally, he has his own agenda. It is not a huge leap of imagination to conceive of Auberon having been similarly persuaded by Avallac’h (an elven Knowing One who thematically parallels the human Vilgefortz). Not only are Avallac’h and Auberon tied by broken familial bonds, they are each a participant of the Elder Blood programme; and each, a Sage. Avallac’h serves nearly as a double for Auberon, his own fate also tied with Ciri’s. And Auberon is a “willing unwilling” in his arrangement with Ciri; implied so in his rage when he reveals Ciri ought to be grateful to him for lowering himself to the endeavour at all. There is an alternative.
Neither the Emperor nor the Alder King is pursuing the incestuous course of action out of lust. But both have the option to waive being the sire. Ithlinne’s prophecy is not explicit about the father of the Swallow’s child. For elves the match is backed by science. For humanity – pragmatism.
Emhyr has ordered to wipe out the Usurper’s name from the annals of history and is cementing his earthly power, conquering and ensuring the succession laws play out in his favour. Not only is he legitimatizing his rule over Cintra – the gateway to the North – by marrying its last monarch’s granddaughter, by keeping it in the family, he is also consolidating his rule among the Nilfgaardian aristocracy. The Emperor’s concern lies with the dynastic struggle for power: it is his blood that should rule the world and because history is bending its arc according to Nilfgaard’s dictation that means surmounting the Nilfgaardian succession laws. From such perspective, not fathering Ciri’s child would create numerous problems. Ciri as Emhyr’s heir would remain behind any other male offspring he might have (with any Nilfgaardian aristocrat). Ciri might not be acknowledged as a legitimate successor in Nilfgaard in the first place as she is a foreigner, born in Cintra at a time when her father was not yet an emperor; a bastard, effectively, and a girl besides. Ciri’s husband, moreover, may have designs on power himself and his remaining under Emhyr’s control, or Ciri’s control, is not a guarantee. It is difficult to be the correctly-shaped chess piece in a game of interests of the state. That a widely recited prophecy about the fate of the world can lend an aura of destiny to the brutal political machinations undertaken to seek retribution and pursue earthly power is convenient; a descendant who will be the ruler of the world – a bonus. But to get there sacrifices must be made.

‘Cirilla,’ continued the emperor, ‘will be happy, like most of the queens I was talking about. It will come with time. Cirilla will transfer the love that I do not demand at all onto the son I will beget with her. An archduke, and later an emperor. An emperor who will beget a son. A son, who will be the ruler of the world and will save the world from destruction. Thus speaks the prophecy whose exact contents only I know.’ ’What I am doing, I am doing for posterity. To save the world.’ - Lady of the Lake

Notably, the manner in which the Emperor claims to understand Ithlinne’s prophecy does not make guarantees that a father’s incest with his daughter will ensure his progeny will one day save the world. The saviour is a few generations away and the causal arrow between now and then is not direct: the son could die, could father a child with a genetically non-fitting partner, could be sterile, or could turn out to be a daughter altogether. Not to even begin with what the world needs saving from in the first place; again, elven prophecies were written by the elves and for the elves. Emhyr var Emreis is neither an elf, a geneticist, an idealist nor a mystic. He is an autocrat.
Elder Blood is the creation of elves and it is elves who understand how their genetic abilities play into handling what was foretold by Ithlinne. Emhyr’s daughter, the Lady of Time and Space, is the descendant of an Alder King who has utilized Hen Ichaer in the past and whose ambitions lie in an altogether different ball park than that of an Emperor of one single world. Appropriately to the Saga’s love for subversion, it is ironic that human understanding of elven prophecies remains on the level of poetry, while elves – the irritatingly poetic, mystical species – can read the science elevating the prophetic jargon into something more. Which regardless does not invalidate the problem with prophecies: they lend themselves to the rationalization of action, frequently covering up the real horses the powerful might have in the race. Legitimatization of the ruler’s right to remain the leader of their people is relevant in Auberon’s life too. More on that when we return to the Fisher King parable and the nature of curses upon the two rulers.

Role & Relationships

Let’s take a look at the characters’ personalities.
Appearance: a play of contrasts
A very tall, slender elf with long fingers and ashen hair shot with snow-white streaks. An elf with the most extraordinary eyes – as on all Elder Blood carriers – reminiscent of molten lead. A man with black, shiny, wavy hair bordering an angular, masculine face that is dominated by a prominent nose (hooked, presumably, or Roman if you like). The Emperor of Nilfgaard does not resemble an androgynous elf by any means. But this does not mean nothing remains in him of the elven gene pool. Not only does Emhyr’s etymological origin link with the Romano-Celtic world underpinning all things elven in the Witcher. Nilfgaardians are effectively the Romano-Brytons. The human population in the South of the Continent mixed with elves heavily, retaining a lot of elven law, customs, language, and DNA. As Avallac’h says about heritability, “the father matters,” and Emhyr was one half of the equation for getting Ciri.
Rex Regum - King of Kings
The readers are probably more familiar with the imperial system and how that features in the depiction of Nilfgaard. Auberon Muircetach’s position as the Supreme Leader of the Aen Elle – as opposed to merely a “king” – is instead much more reminiscent of the station of a High King.
Ancient and early kingdoms of Great Britain and Ireland boast many High Kings (e.g. Ard Rí Érenn Brian Boru, Ard Rí Alban Macbeth, Vortigern, King of the Britons, etc). The High King was usually elected and set above lesser rulers and warlords as an overlord in a land that shared a high degree of cultural unity. Emperors usually ruled over culturally different lands (regularly obtained through recent or ongoing conquests). In character such high kingship was sacred: the duties of the ruler were largely ceremonial and somewhat restricted, unless war, natural disaster or any other realm-wide occasion created a need for a unified command structure. The Irish High King, for example, was quite straightforwardly a ruler who laid claim to all of the land of the Emerald Isle. Noteworthy, because the ruler is frequently seen as the embodiment of the land, associated with the health and well-being of the realm that the land sustains. In quasi-religious terms, High Kings gained their power through a marriage to, or sexual relationship with, a sovereignty goddess; frequently, a mother goddess who was associated with the life-giving land. As one of the most frequently studied elements of the Celtic cosmology, this feature is instantly recognisable in the outlook of the elves in the Witcher and factors heavily into Auberon’s relationship with Ciri. Ciri who is the avatar of the Triple Goddess – the Virgin, the Pregnant Mother, and the Old Woman Death. As Sapkowski notes in Swiat króla Artura. Maladie:

“…no Wiccan mystery in honour of the Great Triple, cannot be performed, [without] the goblet and the sword. Grail and Excalibur. The rest is silence.”

Through the Triple Goddess’ interaction with her God-counterpart (a ruler who briefly assumes the role of the god) is showcased the eternal cycle of life – one which cannot be realised without the interaction of the cup (feminine) & the sword (male). Excalibur is the symbol of rightful sovereignty and its wielders are frequently powerful men, but Ciri is a woman and a woman is the Grail, bringing salvation and new life. To possess the Grail is to legitimize oneself as the ruler, as the leader, protector, and father figure of the realm. Thus a King of Kings must do exactly that. A protector, a father figure, and a druid (wise man) merge into a symbolic whole in the Supreme Leader of the elves.
(But Ciri is also the witcher girl and owns a sword, unyielding before the matter of her gender. And though many a men might take her for the Lady of the Lake, she is not about to part with her sword.)
The realm is all
From early age, Emhyr’s father instilled an understanding in his heir that nothing counts more than the interest of the state. The blood of the Emreis family must be on the throne. Fergus never abdicated, not after torture, not even after his son was turned into a mutant hedgehog in front of his eyes. Love for his child did not sway Fergus from having his son suffer in the interests of power and the realm. This is how the shard of ice in Emhyr’s heart forms. Auberon, equally, “thinks of England” when attempting to regain his daughter’s legacy and restore their people’s power. The circumstances of Lara’s demise, however, beg the question about the Alder King’s role in facilitating or enabling the conditions that let things spiral out of control and break beyond repair. The stakes were infinitely higher for Auberon than they are for Emreis’ dynastic struggle. But what would an answer to this question change? In their cold hearts these characters see themselves each as duty-bound.
Ambitious and gloried, they nevertheless occupy different stages in their lives.
Emhyr’s ambition burns bright and fresh. Auberon’s has dwindled into a shadow of the past; buried under having witnessed and lived through the sacrifices that a ruler makes in the name of power. Emhyr chooses to seek retribution and power beyond what would befall him should he accept his life as Duny (the cursed, pitiful Duny), the prince consort of Cintra. Never losing sight of his goal, love and human happiness become temporary phases and means to an end, and Emhyr returns to Cintra only in the form of flames and death to pursue his daughter in insane ambition. The White Flame retains an active disposition; a lust for life. Neither Emhyr nor Auberon gallop at the head of their armies though, leading instead from the rear. They have lackeys for carrying out their will remotely (e.g. Cahir and Eredin). Emhyr, however, is said to be otherwise highly involved in the ruling of his empire, even if many revolutionaries who had helped him on the throne had hoped he would remain but a banner of the revolution. In contrast, the Alder King has more or less withdrawn from life and active service. In presence of Avallac’h and Eredin, Auberon appears much more like the standard Emhyr had refused to become. Of course, many decisions the equivalent of which Auberon has already made are still ahead of Emhyr, including as concerns the freedom of his daughter.
A ruler’s heart
Did Emhyr believe that he would be able to see Pavetta in Ciri and thus push through with the incest? Did Auberon hope to glance the memory of his wife in the eyes of Lara’s “daughter” and manage in this way? As already noted, neither ruler is pursuing their plans out of lust, but as lust must be induced for the act to bear fruit I cannot help but wonder what these characters must do to themselves to follow through with their plans. Because the love that is called for between a woman and a man in order for new life and hope to be born is in this instance abnormal. Yet it is undoubtedly love that plays a huge role in determining both Emhyr’s and Auberon’s eventual fate.
Until the emergence of false-Ciri, Emhyr var Emreis is said to have had numerous ladies in the imperial court. Little is known about Auberon’s disposition, but by the time Ciri starts frequenting his bed chamber it has become evident the image of a dowager king fits the elf like a glove; disaffected with romantic dalliance, he is still aware of the courtly intrigue and expectations surrounding it.

The next evening, for the first time, the Alder King betrayed his impatience. She found him hunched over the table where a looking glass framed in amber was lying. White powder had been sprinkled on it. It’s beginning, she thought. … At one moment Ciri was certain it was about to happen. But it didn’t. At least not all the way. And once again he became impatient. He stood up and threw a sable fur over his shoulders. He stood like that, turned away, staring at the window and the moon. - Lady of the Lake

Emhyr’s marriage to Pavetta, Ciri’s mother, was an unhappy one. In his own words, he did not love “the melancholy wench with her permanently lowered eyes,” and eventually would have had the vigilant Pavetta killed. Inadvertently, Emhyr caused Pavetta’s death anyway.

‘I wonder how a man feels after murdering his wife,’ the Witcher said coldly. ‘Lousy,’ replied Emhyr without delay. ‘I felt and I feel lousy and bloody shabby. Even the fact that I never loved her doesn’t change that. The end justifies the means, yet I sincerely do regret her death. I didn’t want it or plan it. Pavetta died by accident.’ ‘You’re lying,’ Geralt said dryly, ‘and that doesn’t befit an emperor. Pavetta could not live. She had unmasked you. And would never have let you do what you wanted to do to Ciri.’ ‘She would have lived,’ Emhyr retorted. ‘Somewhere … far away. There are enough castles … Darn Rowan, for instance. I couldn’t have killed her.’ ‘Even for an end that was justified by the means?’ ‘One can always find a less drastic means.’ The emperor wiped his face. ‘There are always plenty of them.’ ‘Not always,’ said the Witcher, looking him in the eyes. Emhyr avoided his gaze. ‘That’s exactly what I thought,’ Geralt said, nodding. - Lady of the Lake

After Pavetta’s demise Emhyr hounds his own daughter to the ends of the earth, killing her grandmother, burning down her home, and driving Ciri into an exile from which she never fully recovers. An exile which kills the innocence in her; the snow-white streaks in Ciri’s hair are from the trauma. In contrast, Auberon does not seem to even know what became of Shiadhal – his partner and the mother of their daughter together. On the verge of death he confuses Ciri for Shiadhal and says, “I am glad you are here. You know, they told me you had died.” The Alder King recalls Shiadhal affectionately, in the same loving breath as he recalls their daughter Lara. Lara whose exile – voluntary or not – killed her.
When Ciri was six years old, Emhyr took a lock of hair from her and held onto it; out of sentiment and for his court sorcerers to use. One of Auberon’s last lines to Ciri involves tying a loose ribbon back into Lara’s hair.
In regard to their brides-to-be, both rulers are saddled with fakes. A fake Ciri-Pavetta and a fake Shiadhal-Lara. But Emhyr’s and Auberon’s attitude toward the fake is diametrically opposite. Emhyr sees false-Cirilla as “a diamond in the rough.” Auberon calls Ciri “a pearl in pig shit, a diamond on the finger of a rotting corpse.” For Emhyr, a diamond is the essence of his poor peasant girl. While a pearl in pig shit, for Auberon, remains the essence of Ciri. Neither ruler can entirely ignore the social vigilance extended toward the ruler’s bedchamber either. The idea of a “foreign bride” is frowned upon among the Nilfgaardian aristocracy; it decreases their ability to influence the Emperor. Ciri’s social status at Tir ná Lia is never explicitly addressed, but the presence of human servants – all of whom that the reader sees are female – and casual xenophobia from Auberon himself does not make it hard to venture a guess.

‘If I were … the real Cirilla … the emperor would look more favourably on me. But I’m only a counterfeit. A poor imitation. A double, not worthy of anything. Nothing …’ - False-Cirilla Lady of the Lake
‘It’s all my fault,’ she mumbled. ‘That scar blights me, I know. I know what you see when you look at me. There’s not much elf left in me. A gold nugget in a pile of compost—’ - Ciri Lady of the Lake

The Alder King is unable to bring himself to love Ciri. The Emperor relents, caring for his daughter at last as a father should at the very end, in the one moment where it matters. Moreover, Emhyr ends up eventually marrying his own reason of state and comes to love the false-Cirilla. The contrasts do not end here. Real Ciri threatens to tear Emhyr’s throat out for what he is planning to do to her (unknowing that he is her father), yet with Auberon Ciri turns submissive and grows attached. She weeps over Auberon’s corpse and vows vengeance on Eredin for killing the Alder King. Ironic as Auberon never intended to let Ciri go, while Emhyr does let his daughter walk free. The shard in Auberon’s heart never melts. It shifts in Emhyr’s.
In their last meeting with the girl, both rulers implicitly reveal their blood relation to Ciri.

Cursed Rulers of the World

Emhyr’s tale begins and is framed with a curse. Likewise Auberon’s. And for both it is love in its different manifestations that will shift the curse just enough to offer closure. For healing largely entails obtaining closure.

‘They were silent for a long time. The scent of spring suddenly made them feel light-headed. Both of them. ‘In spite of appearances,’ Emhyr finally said dully, ‘being empress is not an easy job. I don’t know if I’ll be able to love you.’ She nodded to show she also knew. He saw a tear on her cheek. Just like in Stygga Castle, he felt the tiny shard of cold glass lodged in his heart shift.’ - Lady of the Lake

The reference to H. C. Andersen’s fairy tale of the Snow Queen is self-evident. Emhyr var Emreis is an Emperor whose heart has been pierced by a shard of ice. In the Saga the legend is elven and refers to the Winter Queen who conducts a Wild Hunt as she travels the land, casting hard, sharp, tiny shards of ice around her. Whose eye or heart is pierced by one of them is lost; they will abandon everything and will set off after the Queen, the one who wounded them so gravely as to become the sole aim and end of their life.
There are two ways in which to interpret the way Sapkowski applies the legend of the Snow Queen in the Saga. First, as a complement to the author’s stance that in life - where most things are shit - the Holy Grail is a woman, because it is the love of a woman and the hope a woman instils that often makes men act in inconceivable ways; love is the great motivator and the great balancer of scales. Almost as powerful as death. Or more so?

‘I would not like to put forward the theory that hunting for the wild pig was the primordial example of the search for the Grail. I don’t want to be so trivial. I will - after Parnicki and Dante - identify the Grail with the real goal of the great effort of mythical heroes. I prefer to identify the Grail with Olwen, from under whose feet, as she walked, white clovers grew. I prefer to identify the Grail with Lydia, who was loved by Parry. I like New York in June… How about you? Because I think the Grail is a woman. It is worth investing a lot of time and effort in order to find it and gain it, to understand it. And that’s the moral.’ - A. Sapkowski Swiat króla Artura. Maladie

In this reading, we find the framing to the stories of Geralt and Yennefer, Lara and Cregennan, Avallac’h and Lara, and many others. Including the story of Ciri herself – for Ciri is ultimately the author’s Grail in more ways than one. More than one party goes to great lengths to solicit her favour in a guise that includes elements of a love relationship but not the heart of it.
Secondly, we can interpret the legend in universal terms: the shard of ice is the definitive experience of our lives which distorts reality and makes the rest of our lives spin around it in one way or another. For Emhyr, such an experience could have been the trauma experienced in his youth. Fergus’ uncompromising death conditioned the boy early on to sacrifice personal feelings to the cause and let the only true feeling in his heart remain forever locked behind the ends a ruler must go to unthinkable lengths to achieve. Fergus did not deem his son above suffering for a cause and the son learned the lesson. Until…
In Andersen’s Snow Queen, Gerda manages to find her brother Kai in the Snow Queen’s castle, but despite her calls his heart remains cold as ice. Only when Gerda cries in despair do her tears finally melt the ice and remove the piece of glass from Kai’s eyes and heart. In the Witcher, the shard in Emhyr’s heart moves first upon witnessing his true daughter’s angry tears. For the second time – in thanks to the bogus princess of Cintra; his poor raison d’etat.
It brings us to the defining contrast in Emhyr’s and Auberon’s stories, and it concerns alleviating the suffering of those are bound to you by blood or love.
Recalling another case of incest that resulted in Adda the strigga, we may remember that the Temerian king recognises that his daughter is suffering and insists on disenchanting her instead of killing her. Realising that your own blood – who has been thrown into this world of suffering thanks to you – is suffering and consequently choosing to do something to alleviate this suffering fortifies the Saga’s faith in enduring human decency. Geralt himself is thoroughly vexed by the prospect of letting the same evil happen to Ciri that happened to himself and does everything within his power to prevent it (failing, trying anyway). Here lives the redemption of man, and in redemption his rebirth.

‘They passed a pond, empty and melancholy. The ancient carp released by Emperor Torres had died two days earlier. “I’ll release a new, young, strong, beautiful specimen,” thought Emhyr var Emreis, “I’ll order a medal with my likeness and the date to be attached to it. Vaesse deireadh aep eigean. Something has ended, something is beginning. It’s a new era. New times. A new life. So let there be a new carp too, dammit.”’ - Lady of the Lake

As Emhyr and false-Cirilla take a stroll in the gardens after Stygga, they pass a sculpture of a pelican pecking open its own breast to feed its young on its blood. An allegory of noble sacrifice and also of great love – as False-Ciri tells us.

‘Do you think—’ he turned her to face him and pursed his lips ‘—that a torn-open breast hurts less because of that?’ ‘I don’t know …’ she stammered. ‘Your Imperial Majesty … I …’ He took hold of her hand. He felt her shudder; the shudder ran along his hand, arm and shoulder. ‘My father,’ he said, ‘was a great ruler, but never had a head for legends or myths, never had time for them. And always mixed them up. Whenever he brought me here, to the park, I remember it like yesterday, he always said that the sculpture shows a pelican rising from its ashes.’ - Lady of the Lake

It is difficult to set aside our trauma and not pass it on to our children. Letting our children be free to choose and not sacrificing them on the altar of our fate is to rip open ourselves, calcified and bound to our path, and to feel all of it as we grope in the dark to feel for them. Emhyr’s father might not have gotten it entirely wrong, though his mind at the time was set on making his child an extension of himself. The cycle of death and rebirth begins and ends within that to which we give birth. Giving our children a chance before it is too late, we also give a chance to ourselves. By finding it in his heart to extend to his daughter the courtesy his father Fergus never extended to him - by letting Ciri free - Emhyr lets the part of himself that has defined his entire life die. His end stops justifying the means. He breaks the cycle on the edge of the precipice to which he has brought them and thus allows for the possibility of new beginnings for himself and for Ciri.
In a sense, False-Cirilla and Emhyr get the ending Ciri and Auberon might have gotten if –
If.
The story of Auberon Muircetach achieves a fundamentally different resolution.

‘What does the spear with the bloody blade mean? Why does the King with the lanced thigh suffer and what does it mean? What is the meaning of the maiden in white carrying a grail, a silver bowl—?’ - Galahad Lady of the Lake

Galahad asks the questions that the innocent Perceval in his Story of the Grail failed to ask, thus losing his chance at freeing the Fisher King from his curse. And the Fisher King is the guardian of mysteries, among them the Holy Grail. But it is not because of gain that a chivalric knight with a shining sword should seek to free the Fisher King from his curse, but rather because it is a human thing to do. Sapkowski claims to be partial to Wolfram von Eschenbach’s rendition of the Grail myth in Parsifal. Wolfram’s message, according to Sapkowski, is the following:

‘Let’s not wait for the revelation and the command that comes from above, let’s not wait for any Deus vult. Let’s look for the grail in ourselves. Because the Grail is nobility, it is the love of a neighbor, it is an ability for compassion. Real chivalric ideals, towards which it is worth looking for the right path, cutting through the wild forest, where, as they quote, “there is no road, no path”. Everyone has to find their path on their own. But it is not true that there is only one path. There are many of them. Infinitely many. … Being human is important. Heart.’ ‘I prefer the humanism of Wolfram von Eschenbach and Terry Gilliam from the idiosyncrasies of bitter Cistercian scribes and Bernard of Clairvaux…’ - A. Sapkowski Swiat króla Artura: Maladie

The unimaginable sadness in Auberon’s eyes belies the suffering of the Alder King who is the avatar of the Fisher King. In the Witcher’s story between elves and humans, it is the elven males who all share aspects of the Fisher King’s fate, because they are the keepers of their Grail – the protectors of elven women. Auberon’s wound is wrought by time: by surviving his wife and daughter, by the witnessing of the fading of his ambitions and the results of pursuing them without success. He has lost his line. The Fisher King’s injury represents the inability to produce an heir. A ruler who is the protector and physical embodiment of his land, yet remains barren, sterile, or without a true-born successor, bodes ill for the realm. The Alder King’s injury consists in having lost control of the source of his people’s power, leaving the elves imprisoned and scattered across two worlds. Auberon’s personal tragedy, however, subsists in the lost power having been functionally manifest in a daughter.

‘Lara.’ The Alder King moved his head, and touched his neck as though his royal torc’h was garrotting him. ‘Caemm a me, luned. Come to me, daughter. Caemm a me, elaine.’ Ciri sensed death in his breath. - Lady of the Lake

Elder Blood is indeed an accursed blood because it enslaves its carriers to its purpose. Emhyr has a theoretical chance to walk away from the pursuit of earthly power; the construct is social. Elder Blood, however, has a particular and real, magical function, and in virtue of being a genetic mutation it is embedded in the gene-carrying individuals. Functionally, Elder Blood allows to shape fate with degrees of freedom unimaginable for an ordinary individual. It’s a difference comparable to the one between a character in a story and the story’s author. Therefore the Aen Saevherne – the carriers of the gene – are bound to the thing they carry within their DNA that allows them to a greater and lesser degree shape the fate of reality. However dearly Auberon, or Lara, might have ever wished to untie themselves from their own essence, it seems impossible. The loss of control over power then is quite simply so pivotal as to necessitate a moment of original sin.
As already witnessed by way of the legend of the Winter Queen, the original “myths” of the Witcher world usually originate among elves; humans, the interlopers, push themselves into those myths only later. This creates an interesting conundrum. In Parsifal, the Fisher King is injured as punishment for taking a wife who is not meant for him. A Grail keeper is to marry the woman the Grail determines for him, which – if we equate woman with the Grail – is what the woman determines. Unfortunately, we know nothing about Shiadhal, so we cannot verify if this part of the legend dovetails. But generally, in a wholly elven world which may have matriarchal tendencies, in lieu of worshipping the mother Goddess, such cosmology is relatively unproblematic. Except suddenly there are humans too. And Auberon – the highest leader of elves and the father of the new scion of Elder Blood – is indirectly injured because a human sorcerer – Cregennan – turns himself into a Grail keeper (in place of another, special elf) by taking a woman not meant for him.

‘Witcher,’ she whispered, kissing his cheek, ‘there’s no romance in you. And I… I like elven legends, they are so captivating. What a pity humans don’t have any legends like that. Perhaps one day they will? Perhaps they’ll create some? But what would human legends deal with? All around, wherever one looks, there’s greyness and dullness. Even things which begin beautifully lead swiftly to boredom and dreariness, to that human ritual, that wearisome rhythm called life.’ - Yennefer Sword of Destiny

Cregennan’s injury is to die. But what about the original Fisher King figure? What is Auberon’s original sin in this?
I see two possibilities. It could be that Auberon in his ambition hastened his daughter’s way into exile and, in a display of his displeasure, never made any effort to ease his daughter in to the personal sacrifices they, as Aen Saevherne, must make; walking without blinking to the end of the path Emhyr turned away from. It could equally be that Auberon, instead of locking Lara up in a tower to protect her from the folly of youth, let her go to Cregennan. It could be an amalgam of both, and the misjudgement of a father who allows freedom, who feels for his child, and is rewarded with an irreversible injury is probably the greater tragedy.
Because, regardless of the origin of the curse upon Auberon, one thing does not change – the icy eternity in the Alder King’s heart never fractures.

‘‘Zireael,’ he said. ‘Loc’hlaith. You are indeed destiny, O Lady of the Lake. Mine too, as it transpires.’ - Auberon Lady of the Lake

Ciri passes through the shadow world of the Alders; a manifestation of fate. Her footsteps sowing discord and movement and change into the immutable, time-locked amber of the elven utopia. Her presence providing the trigger that will unshackle the past from future in a world where for a long time nothing has changed, died, or been reborn. She is destined and destiny, annihilation and rebirth, the grain of sand in the gears of the great mechanism; a strange girl. The child of hope and the Goddess who ought to be Three. Lara, the true daughter of the Alder King, is dead. Emhyr’s daughter still lives. There is nothing Auberon can do for Lara anymore and thus the ice in Auberon’s heart has crystallised. Emhyr still has a chance; he is where Auberon once was. And yet, there is one thing Ciri, the witcher girl with a sword of her own, can still do for the Alder King.

‘Va’esse deireadh aep eigean… But,’ he finished with a sigh, ‘it’s good that something is beginning.’ They heard a long-drawn-out peal of thunder outside the window. The storm was still far away. But it was approaching fast. ‘In spite of everything,’ he said, ‘I very much don’t want to die, Zireael. And I’m so sorry that I must. Who’d have thought it? I thought I wouldn’t regret it. I’ve lived long, I’ve experienced everything. I’ve become bored with everything … but nonetheless I feel regret. And do you know what else? Come closer. I’ll tell you in confidence. Let it be our secret.’ She bent forward. ‘I’m afraid,’ he whispered. ‘I know.’ ‘Are you with me?’ ‘Yes, I am.’ - Auberon Lady of the Lake

The only way Ciri the Grail knight will be able to find her true self – the Grail – is to cure the suffering Alder King from his curse. Ciri’s presence in the world of the Alders is after all also part of her coming of age story. Through becoming Auberon’s destiny, Ciri must close the circle for him and bring closure. He would never let her go because the shard in Auberon’s heart is no longer able to melt. Auberon does not follow the motif of alleviating the suffering of one’s blood and/or love; and he dies. The roles are reversed, in fact. It is Ciri who realises Auberon is suffering. So Ciri must do what only she can do, because remaining human is important. Heart is important. The sacrifice a ruler makes on the altar of power includes his own heart, which is why there should never be only one, but always two; always.

‘Time is like the ancient Ouroboros. Time is fleeting moments, grains of sand passing through an hourglass. Time is the moments and events we so readily try to measure. But the ancient Ouroboros reminds us that in every moment, in every instant, in every event, is hidden the past, the present and the future. Eternity is hidden in every moment. Every departure is at once a return, every farewell is a greeting, every return is a parting. Everything is simultaneously a beginning and an end. ‘And you too,’ he said, not looking at her at all, ‘are at once the beginning and the end. And because we are discussing destiny, know that it is precisely your destiny. To be the beginning and the end. Do you understand?’ She hesitated for a moment. But his glowing eyes forced her to answer. ‘I do.’ - Lady of the Lake

Death Crone to Auberon Muircetach, Ciri never becomes the Mother Goddess in the Saga. It is a choice she must make for herself and the choice still lies ahead of her. The predicate to making such a choice at least for now, however, she achieves; she goes her own way. In a sense then, both rulers are father figures, who through their choices “beget” the child who is destined. Perhaps this too the Knowing Ones knew, and for this reason Auberon never could have budged, never could have changed his mind in regard to his purpose in the long and winding story of his life. Something is ending, but something is also beginning. A good ruler is responsible for the flourishing of their realm, for providing hope. It is Ciri’s role to be the beginning and the end, and though there might be ways in which to nudge the hand of Fate, whatever is destined must happen. Destiny, however accursed, must run its course.
That is the hope and the release.

My boyfriend has a job where for some reason whatever he sits on or work around I'm extremely itchy.
I usually have him strip the moment he gets home ( a job on the weekends)
What led up to this was before he came home I was telling him the issues I've had in the past with either friends and or men who want to date me who are creepy & stalkerishish.
It's a LONG story. Anyway. He came home maybe 3 or 4 am.. and while I'm super drousy. I actually sleep on the couch now. (It helps with my body pain from carrying a baby)
Why did this man through his work jacket and lunch box on my body towel I use to get out the shower & lay his lunch box on my jacket I wear everyday? I just noticed this after waking up.
So, I go in our 1 bedroom and ask him.. he says in his sleep? "It's not itchy oh my fucking God, I'm SOrRy"
I just sense a lack of consideration for me.
I was air drying that towel too on MY work chair... he has his own chair on his side.. why not put it there?
I was thinking maybe he was super tired?
But again I always feel like an after thought when it comes to him specifically. And i feel and actually am always forgotten when it comes to him.
What are your thoughts on this?
Tl;dr: I'm dating someone who I'm going to have their kid. He always claims to think of me & everything is done for me... but he shows a lack of consideration for how I feel about things... it's like regardless what I tell him (just like my narcissistic mother) he goes against my voice or what I say or feel almost in spite of me or he's showing me he really doesn't care? I can't tell and I'm hoping it's not the later but I do strongly feel he does things to hurt me cause he's mad. How are you mad at me there's a psycho who wants to date me and I'm being open and honest? He usually acts this way out of jealousy too or trying to put me in my place. Idk how many times I gotta let this man SHOW me he doesn't give a fuck about me.. oh I'm extremely itchy now.

UK FI blogger posts from the last 7 days

• Continue the discussion below, any post from the list grabbed your attention this week, made an impression within the context of FIRE, maybe presented additional questions or an opportunity for further discussion here.

FI Blogger	Latest Post	Last Posted	Posts This Week
Back on the road again	Norfolk seen from a Campervan	Sun, 26 Mar 2023	1
Money-Side-Up	What You Need To Know About The Fidelity Specia...	Sun, 26 Mar 2023	1
Mortgage Advisor on FIRE.	Part 178	Sun, 26 Mar 2023	2
Gentleman's Family Finances	Notice Given	Sat, 25 Mar 2023	2
Monevator	Weekend reading: Prices versus values	Sat, 25 Mar 2023	3
Bankeronwheels.com	Weekend Reading – Vanguard: Invest now or tempo...	Sat, 25 Mar 2023	3
7 Circles	AQR on Managed Futures	Fri, 24 Mar 2023	3
The Financial Bodyguard Blog Site	The Budget Newsletter - March 2023	Fri, 24 Mar 2023	1
Yorkshire Finances	Retiring at 40: An Interview With Connor	Thu, 23 Mar 2023	3
7 Circles	Investor Diary – March 2023	Thu, 23 Mar 2023	3
Monevator	Pensions, the LTA, and IHT: how a middle-class ...	Thu, 23 Mar 2023	3
Blog - Vestpod - Women & Money	Money and Relationships, with Lottie Leefe	Thu, 23 Mar 2023	2
Blog - Vestpod - Women & Money	The Ultimate End of Year Tax Checklist: 6 Tips ...	Thu, 23 Mar 2023	2
The Humble Penny	7 Ways To Reduce Your Tax Legally In The UK	Wed, 22 Mar 2023	1
Yorkshire Finances	Cost Comparison: Driving vs Biking to Work - My...	Tue, 21 Mar 2023	3
Simple Living In Somerset	Don’t let the tax tail wag the investment dog, ...	Tue, 21 Mar 2023	1
Monevator	Tax-efficient investing in the UK (or what orde...	Tue, 21 Mar 2023	3
diy investor (uk)	iShares Global Clean Energy ETF - Update	Tue, 21 Mar 2023	1
Getting Minted	Margin of safety, February 2023	Tue, 21 Mar 2023	1
7 Circles	Weekly Roundup, 20th March 2023	Mon, 20 Mar 2023	3
iretiredyoung	What if I hadn't retired early?	Mon, 20 Mar 2023	1
Bankeronwheels.com	Handpicked Selection of Best Equity ETFs	Mon, 20 Mar 2023	3
Bankeronwheels.com	When Brokers Go Bankrupt: What are the Odds & N...	Mon, 20 Mar 2023	3
The Fat Software Engineer	Failing to Build a Side Income Stream Through A...	Sun, 19 Mar 2023	1

Reddit app allows sideways navigation to view across the table List is ordered by published date, blogs are not ranked, if you like one of this weeks blog posts talk about it below, let the community know, no promoting of your own blog.
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I’m quite I can do pull-ups with over 30kg and dips PR at 46kg. Muscle up, back lever etc
I do have a bit of bodyfat but my goal is to lose around 8-10kg. I’m primarily a mesomorph so I have quite a bit of muscle.
I’m stuck between:
Balanced burn Strength and stamina Explosive strength HIIT & run weight loss Freeletics Hardcore (seems to be the best one so far in terms of my level - not sure if it aligns with my goals tho of losing fat and maintaining or just building a bit of muscle)
I fell like apart from HIIT and run they are all so similar, quite over whelming.
Do you athletes have any tips or advice? (: I don’t really want to be swapping journeys half way through the programme

Only Europe Please- short note - If you're not into reading or receiving long messages,don't read any further + Please If you don't want to read everything because of my post being too long for you & instead of reading It all - ..skip some parts - find another person to talk to.Let's respect each other and our free time. All people criticizing/making fun of me & other people - will permanently be blocked.Pretty much as people questioning my post and giving me unwanted advice.I'm not here for any conflicts and I know I can't please everyone - I know I never will.. However It's me who should feel comfortable in my new potential friendship & obviously someone interested in being my friend - not the whole world which is why I don't need any advice from people who don't even want to be a part of my life.
Hello guys! 🙂 (read everything before you decide to send me a message) Please send me a message ONLY If you're in the same situation and If your expectations are the same as mine.I want to find like minded people from Europe (Why Europe? Read my post to find out) I'm looking for something permanent
(remember - you can feel lonely even If you're surrounded by others - If there's no emotional bond) I'm fed up of meeting people who never make any time for me & only text me once or twice a week to ask me "what are you up to?" Out of boredom.I don't want to meet people asking others a million of questions like "what's your favorite movie?" Just to give you one word answer and ask you another question "and music? Your favorite song?" I'm looking for something "deeper" & different🙂
What kind of friend would I like to find? Someone to talk to on a daily basis - Someone who needs It & wants It just as much as me
Do you ever feel like an option? Like a stranger to others despite knowing them for months or years & talking to them quite often? Like there's always something and someone more important than you and you just..don't fit in and no matter what you do - your effort is never appreciated?
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I'm always the one texting people immediately (or at the very least trying to) no matter where I am and who I am with (family) others? Never - except for one exception.A really lovely person.
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What are my expectations? I would like to meet someone in a similar situation – why? Because I honestly feel like only a person with the same expectations and a similar outlook on life would get along with me & because I feel more comfortable talking to people like me..Friendless people who need a strong bond - people without friends and without partners..Don't get me wrong…Most people deserve to be happy and It's good to have friends but people who have friends or families in real life are usually more focused on them ( which is completely understandable) & have less time for others + I simply don't want to be replaced by anyone..I kind of envy people who can call others , true friends given I don't have an emotional bond with any of my acquaintances. Whenever I hear that others have friends I simply get sad because (believe it or not) If I had to choose between 20 people to talk to (Acquaintances) and one special person - I'd choose that one special person without any hesitation .. I also want to talk to others on a daily basis mainly because..I want to see someone’s effort & be someone's first choice - not another person to have random conversations with..Why I'd rather talk to people from my continent? Well..Mainly because I would like to see someone I'd get along with - In the far future - face to face :) + I don't want to wait any longer than 6 hours to receive a message - Especially given most people are always available on social media sites & keep their phones in a pocket.Once you receive & open my message - get back to me (If you're as serious as I am & really need a true friend) waiting 6 hours to receive a message is more than enough
I'm by no means criticising people who don't want to talk to others often / People who really are super busy & People who want to find someone to have non important conversations with - I'm aware that not everyone has the same expectations which is why everything you're reading now - is here for a reason.All I'm suggesting is - I don't want anything temporary and I don't want to be the one always giving more than receiving.
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Listen people - I used to ignore being..ignored by others..always being just an option to talk to during tough times or moments of boredom.I was too young to realize that I was never important enough for most people that were a part of my life
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I don't know who needs to hear this but..No one is too busy to make time for you! People make excuses to avoid others because they prioritize everything and (maybe) everyone..over them. It's true that most people really are busy - but It takes only a few seconds to start a conversation (If you're into short messages) and a few minutes (1-10/15) to type a long message Don't let anyone lie to you.Truth is that most people either don't like you enough to make time for you or just simply - feel no need to talk to others often but are they too busy? No..
You don't need to send me a message just to ask me and tell me "Do you really want to talk daily? I like long messages but I can't promise to contact you often" If you really are unsure please don't send me a message.I don't need more acquaintances aka people to talk to - occasionally
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I'm not trying to sound rude - I just don't want to meet new people and get emotionally attached - only to end up being left alone after weeks or months of daily conversations.I'm sick of that never ending story and always meeting people who ghost me without a single word (even if everything seems to be ok) or people who "change priorities" over time & become like strangers…I don't want to go through this ever again.
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Let me tell you one thing – A true friend would never just give up on you for no reason :)
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It’s always possible to find someone to have a random conversation with – someone willing to send you one message once or twice a week..but..It’s almost impossible to find people willing to make time for you.I’m not asking a busy person to make time for me by changing some plans! Absolutely not! I’m here to find someone who wants to talk daily (throughout the day or maybe even night) of one’s own will.Someone looking for the same kind of connection.
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Strong friendships are based on mutual support. One of the best things you can do for a friend in need, is just to be there for them when they want to talk.I often see posts from people who always say how friendless they are because they don't feel loved or appreciated by their "friends" remember! A true friend - someone who truly likes you or someone who wants to get to know you - will always find time for you. 🙂 I'm not really interested in small talk/short messages - I love long and meaningful conversations. It's so easy to find someone who loves abbreviations and questions like "How are you?" How was your day? Or what are you interested in? But so hard/almost impossible to find a person who knows how to keep a conversation going & show others some effort.Building and maintaining friendships takes time and effort.Never allow pursuits or possessions to become bigger priorities than your relations with other people.Close friendships are so important to us because they are so difficult to form + Having friends can help you feel as if you belong to something that brings purpose and connection to your life.
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• I do NOT respond to any „Hey,hmu” or „u want to talk” type of messages (super short messages or messages full of abbreviations – I literally can’t stand abbreviations and acronyms in text messages) ALL messages full of abbreviations will immediately be ignored.I also don't like it when people ignore everything I say in my post or messages and just focus on some question in a certain message or... when they don't ask me any questions themselves.
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• No dirty messages PLEASE.I'm not looking for anyone to flirt with and I'm not looking for a partner either. No NSWF profiles..I always check people's profiles (Even comment history) - To avoid guys,trying to get inappropriate photos from adult women or? flirt with them.I also absolutely don't respond to messages from people whose comments are very rude & obviously - Messages from people who judge other people and use vulgar words to describe them or? Make fun of them.Respect is very important
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• Please only adult people 18-36 age range (I'm 27)
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• I don’t respond to messages I don’t find interesting even If they're long - If after receiving and reading your message I don't feel comfortable or think "I wouldn't get along with him/her" I simply do not respond (what I’m suggesting is that I don’t always respond to someone’s first or second message because..sometimes you just know If you’d get along with someone or not- I’d never ignore anyone after days or weeks of daily conversations though) just because I don’t want to do anything forcefully & because I don’t want to lead anyone on. Some people don't message me back as well and even though It is a bit disappointing I'm ok with that as long as there's no emotional bond - I think it's ok to not respond to someone's first or second message If people just think they wouldn't get along I can't stand being ignored after days or weeks of daily conversation and seeing people changing priorities This is something I don't want to go through ever again for real If I'm really interested in someone's message - I respond within a matter of minutes - max 6 hours (If I'm in bed - just sleeping) you won't even hear from me "I'm too busy" because I know myself and If I really was too busy to make time for others - I wouldn't be here.I either want to talk to someone..or not.I don't want to pretend someone I'm not and always try to find some cheap excuses to avoid others. (unlike some people)
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• Don’t ask me “Can you tell me something about yourself?” If you really want to get to know me - you can ask me questions :) I'm an open book.
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• It would be better If you guys were into emojis - just like me - just to describe your emotions through text. Two emojis - 🙂 and 🙁 are completely enough I just don't like emotionless messages.I also don't like it when people say "yeah" or yea"
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• I want to talk on reddit first (just to make sure If I'd get along with you ) before moving to Discord or some other app
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• Time response matters to me a lot! It matters to me whether I get a message back after one hour,three hours,6 hours or..12 hours and even..after a couple of days..And If you're another person just looking for one day conversation and then? "Disappear" for some amount of time longer than one day to come back and apologize me for being busy - don't even leave me a message.I just want to be honest with you from the start.I'm interested only in daily conversations
Why can’t you see any of my interests listed down below? Because what really matters to me is..who you are (If you’re honest,talkative,understanding,caring and trustworthy – for example) just simply – It matters to me what you’re like! not what you like.Don’t get me wrong – you can tell me what your hobbies are but in my personal opinion,common interests are important mainly when you want to find a gaming buddy (for example) or If you want to meet someone to hang out with in real life and..go bowling for example.What most people seem to care about are other people's interests – I don’t. I get along with other people despite having completely different hobbies but I absolutely don’t get along with people way different than me (different expectations and outlook on life– way different sense of humor or personality traits – It’s just an example) It doesn't make ANY DIFFERENCE to me If you're a gamer or? Someone interested in photography! It doesn't make any difference - > as long as you're talkative and kind and If you also want to find someone willing to stay in your life..for good - But If you're into small talk and all you want is to...type and receive super short messages or If you're here only because you're bored and don't know what to do + If you're a very sarcastic person - I'm definitely not for you!I don't get along with overly sarcastic people turning everything into a joke
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Friendships should be natural – not forced.Both people wanting to be friends should feel comfortable and have something in common. No - not necessarily a similar taste in music or movies but something else..Most friendships don't fizzle out because of people not having the same hobbies but..because they just simply have different expectations when It comes to something important.
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I'm not here out of boredom and trust me - I'm not here to meet as many people as possible.I choose quality over quantity.I higly value myself and my time & Sometimes one person but a person who makes you feel comfortable and understood - is more than enough :)
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We ALL can choose what kind of people we’d like to talk to and maybe even become really good friends with and I? I don’t want anyone to be disappointed.We all have some expectations after all.
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If you really need someone to talk to due to loneliness and If you have time to talk to me daily (throughout the day and maybe even night)I always make time for others.I'm literally always available.I could even stay up all night long only to talk to someone. I’m ready to commit but only If there’s some chemistry between me and someone else.I don’t do anything forcefully.
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If you want to talk to me tell me your story - tell me why you're here, what kind of friend would you like to meet :) Et cetera.Such messages are way more interesting to me than...someone's long list of hobbies.I know! It's unusual on reddit but I don't make friends based on hobbies..I want to meet someone with the same mindset as mine to finally feel understood and get close to someone new.
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You can share your problems with me - I absolutely don't mind "complaining" as I've been through a lot in my life.What do people usually tell you when you tell them that's something's wrong? "Don't complain" or "Life's not over yet - one day you'll be happy" or "There are worse situations than yours" and..obviously "Find a therapist" Life's not a fairytale and sometimes things don't go as planned.Emotions shouldn't be bottled up.I'm sick of people always telling others "everything's gonna be ok" move on " & more..Trust me people - not everyone wants to hear "Just believe in yourself and everything's gonna be ok" Some people take it as reassurance. But others see it as false hope. Imagine being told that things will be okay, only for them to get worse..Do you guys know why telling someone "everything's gonna be ok" Is wrong? Because you can't see the future. You can't guarantee others that one day they'll finally be happy + when It comes to social interactions - We're only responsible for ourselves - not for others & as you guys know people let us down quite often (sometimes even when there's no reason) so instead of telling people how they should move on,forget everything and be happy or asking them to find a therapist - be there for them! Always be willing to listen to them If you really like them or want to get to know them & don't suggest everyone in a tough situation to find a therapist because a therapist won't ever replace a true friend + It's quite normal to be disappointed If people always do something to hurt you.Sharing your hardships with other people in a very similar situation or exactly the same one - is VERY helpful If the other person understands you & wants to start all over by just letting it all out & feeling emotional support instead of always hearing some "positive quotes" or someone saying "Stop complaining let's talk about something else"
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Everyone needs a shoulder to cry on. I appreciate sensitive people who always try to understand others.Empathy is everything
Our world needs more peace 🤗 I've seen a lot of rude comments on reddit.If you don't agree with me - OK but please don't criticize me + Not everyone is here for some advice.
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Listen people - I know how different my post is & I know It won't be easy for me to find what or rather who - I'm looking for BUT I always want to be myself instead of pretending someone I'm not and lying to others.I know It would be easier if (like others) I had less expectations but I I know what I want and honestly? If my post was different..I wouldn't be me.Even If I won't meet a person I'd get along with - that's ok! but don't give me any unwanted advice because I wouldn't change for someone who doesn't even know me pretty much as I wouldn't want to change anyone else.I'm not trying to "fit in" and be like everyone else - just to get more attention.Accept me for who I am or let go - is my motto.I'm not here to argue with anyone and to make fun of others.
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Please - If you're a completely different person than the described type of person I'm looking for (If you love abrreviations,If you don't need an emotional connection,If you're sarcastic and quiet) or If you simply disagree with my post - don't force yourself to send me a message.I want my new potential friendship,to be natural which is why I want you to contact me If your needs are the same - I don't want you to try to change yourself only to please me - Pretending to be someone you're not - is the worst.
I know It's possible to find what I'm looking for as I had conversations with people looking for exactly the same thing and being nice to me - I want to believe in my luck again as I had it a few times on reddit - I've recently lost someone I thought could be a friend of mine (such a perfect match) and I'm sad
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No comments please.Only Private messages and chat requests.I don't really like public conversations.I do not respond to comments so If you want to send me a message just do it without saying "You can DM me"

Hello everyone
We're planning to do a roadtrip around the western US in spring/summer next year. At the moment we're looking at four months, from mid March to mid July. Our rough route looks like this:
Start in LA/SF, check out the Eastern Sierra and some of the national parks (Yosemite, Death Valley, Joshua Tree), then head east towards Vermillion Cliffs & Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument, Capitol Reef, Arches and Canyonlands. From there, up north to the Tetons the Sawtooths and Glacier NP and then west to the Oregon coast. This is still a very rough draft of our route but it covers the things we would like to see most.
Currently we're planning on doing the spring months (March, April, May) in the southern states before it gets too hot and spend the summer months (May, June, July) further north and more in the mountains.
So now we're at a point where we have to decide what kind of car we want to rent (buying as a foreigner seems kind of a big hassle for four months). We've done several longer road trips so far, one month in the PNW (slept in the back of a Dodge Grand Caravan) and two months each in Australia and New Zealand (both with a Toyota Hiace Hitop campervan). We also have a little bit of experience in off road driving (Australian inland and Icelandic Highlands).
We like the flexibility of a high-top campervan, being able to stand up and cook inside when the weather isn't great and to freedom camp in remote areas (I'm an astrophotographer, so being on location at night is great for me).
Of course there are many 2WD campervan rentals and that would be fine if we were just planning on doing the national parks which are all paved roads. But there are some things we would love to visit that are only accessible by unpaved roads. And that's the part where I'd like to gather some insights from people with more experience. I know we wouldn't get by with only a 2WD campervan (even if the rental would allow dirt/gravel roads) so my question is: would it make more sense to have a comfortable camper for 90% of the trip and rent a 4WD for a couple of days when we get to some of the off-road areas or should we get a good 4WD cacamper for the entirety of the trip to be more flexible but maybe a bit less comfortable (4 months in a rooftop tent seems very dependent on the weather). Would a 4WD Sprinter van work?
Here's some places that we'd want to visit and that I know are only accessible via dirt or gravel roads:

• Eureka Sand Dunes (some say 2WD is fine as long as the weather is good)
• Yant Flat (2WD accessible in dry conditions?)
• Buckskin Gulch (again, some say 2WD should work, others say 4WD necessary)
• Vermillion Cliffs (I guess the Coyote Buttes can be done with 2WD, but White Pocket absolutely needs a 4WD)
• The area south of Escalante: Zebra/Tunnel/Peek-a-boo slots, Coyote Gulch (no way with a 2WD)
• Capitol Reef (Temple of the Sun and Moon has some 2WD reports, but Cathedral Valley seems 4WD only)
• Smoky Mountain Road (has some river crossings depending on the weather)

Grateful for any tips and insights!

I don’t get too detailed but trigger warning for child abuse.
Bit of necessary context: both my parents were very abusive both physically and emotionally to me and my sisters growing up (I am the oldest of 4). I moved away for university when I was 18 but prior I essentially had to raise my sisters. I have ‘forgiven‘ my parents and still love them but i had struggled with mental health issues and addiction as a result. Had I been an only child I would have cut them off when I moved away but I stayed in contact for the sake of my sisters, but also I still love my parents despite what they’ve done.
The only parent that’s shown remorse and admitted to the abuse has been my father. Both my parents were abused growing up. I know it’s not an excuse but knowing that helped me understand why my parents were the way they were and helped me reach out for help as I don’t want to end up like them.
The reason I’m writing this post is due to my mum lying and very obviously trying to manipulate me to believe she was also a victim and I’m really at my wits end on trying to deal with it.
My mum had cancer during covid. This was less than a month after I’d moved away for university and my mum tried to get me to move home to help look after her. I relented though I still went home regularly but she’s been in remission for two years almost.
On my last birthday I was getting ready to go out with my friends when I got a phone call from my mum. I answered and my mum was shouting that my dad had been cheating on her whilst she was in remission and I could hear them arguing in the background. I got really upset and asked her if she wanted me to phone the police and she said yes. I phoned the police from 100 miles away and told them that my parents were fighting and I was worried in case it would escalate and also in case my sisters were in the house.
This was really traumatising and I ended up relapsing that night and cancelling the full weekend of my birthday plans. I obviously hate my dad for this and understand this was awful for my mum.
Ever since then my mum has messaged all our family and friends saying that my dad had beat her and that she was a battered wife. She’s went to women’s aid too and told them the same.
The only parent I saw abuse the other was my mum. My mum used to hit and scratch my dad, she would make fun of his dead parents and lock him out of the house all in front of us.
And now she’s telling me that my dad battered ‘us’ and refers to me and my sisters as receiving the same treatment. And she tells people that she would stand in between my dad and me & my siblings when he tried to hit us and tell him to hit her instead.
All lies that help paint herself as the perfect victim.
My mum would goad my dad on when he hit us, my mum kicked, punched and beat us harder. I love her still though but even when I push back slightly and say well you hit us too she just denies it ever happened.
I want to to be involved with my family but everytime I come home genuinely just see red when she starts speaking about it, what can I do?

Although dueling was most frequently practiced among rich aristocrats, the unification of the social elite during the mid-1800s led to a revised perception of violence. Slave uprisings and social discontent among the poor immigrant class solidified violence as a unique trait of those in poverty, making duels an act of self-flagellation for an elite class that aimed to separate itself from the “commons.” As the United States Congress was composed of elites, legislation reflected this new taboo; by the start of the American Civil War, several states had already outlawed dueling. However, this would not mark the end of duels.
While dueling lost popularity in elite circles, lower classes–particularly in the lawless West and South U.S.–embraced it. By coming with the added bonus of defying the law, dueling became a means of both rejecting authority and settling disputes. Deaths as a result of dueling skyrocketed, and by 1862, dueling was the third most common cause of death for settlers traversing the Oregon Trail (with the two leading causes being dysentery and heat exhaustion). In the South, a “vigilante culture” of cowboys, bandits, and ranchers enabled dueling to be utilized for property acquisition. Nameless sheriffs invaded small towns and laid claim to farm properties, goading the owners of the property into accepting a duel. Upon the farmers’ defeat and consequent death, these “sheriffs” would take the property for themselves, usually with the intent of selling the land to the highest bidder.
Even at their most popular within the aristocracy, adversaries aimed to de-escalate conflict, and duels were treated as more of a “last resort.” This did not carry over to the middle and lower classes; the mere threat of a duel from an antagonistic sheriff or gruff rancher meant that an ensuing duel was almost certain. They were inescapable.With a rapidly mounting death toll, working-class citizens grew desperate to find a solution to rampant dueling. They found their answer during the construction of North America’s first transcontinental railroad.
The exploitation of Chinese immigrant labor was a key factor in the transcontinental railroad’s completion. Working long hours for minimal pay, laborers could barely afford food and water, let alone a firearm. This meant that dueling was inaccessible—but conflicts still needed to be solved quickly and conclusively. Consequently, disputes between workers were solved by playing a game called shoushiling, which dates back to the Han dynasty, and shares the rock-paper-scissors system that is used today.
American workers that supervised the immigrant labor saw shoushiling in practice, and took note of the game’s simplicity and efficacy. One anonymous construction manager composed an open letter in 1866 to his local sheriff, declaring (with a hefty dosage of mockery) that “the Chinese have invented eternal Life!” Exaggeration or not, shoushiling reached the American public at an extraordinary rate of cultural osmosis, and quickly usurped dueling as the ideal way to solve disputes (while the occasional false sheriff remained, their coercive methods of starting a duel stopped resonating when aimed at an audience that was privy to the existence of rock-paper-scissors).
Duels were universally outlawed in the U.S. in the following decades, but it was done as a formality, rather than a necessity. The prevalence of rock-paper-scissors had relegated duels to a position of obsolescence, saving thousands of lives in the American Frontier.