I look at their perfect pictures Wide smiles and happy lives But I feel lost and alone In a world full of lies and appearances I wonder if I'm the only one Who feels so empty In a world full of false promises Where everything seems so superficial I try to get up and move on But dark thoughts pull me back I feel trapped in a maze with no exit Where everything seems pointless But maybe I'm not the only one Maybe they feel the same way too Maybe their smiles hide the pain And their lives are not so perfect I would like to believe that there is hope That I am not alone in this fight That together we can overcome the pain And find the light at the end of the tunnel. 

Hello friends, today I thought it would be fun to take a look at the Milwaukee Bucks' cap sheet and make some general observations about what to expect from them this offseason and moving forward. It's another big offseason for them as they no doubt are looking to improve their core, or at the least keep it together for another run. Let's see what that might look like.
Here is the Bucks' cap sheet heading into the 2023 offseason:

PLAYER	2023-2024	2024-2025	2025-2026
Giannis Antetokounmpo	$45,640,084	$48,787,676	$51,935,268
Khris Middleton	$40,396,552
Jrue Holiday	$36,861,707	$39,403,893
Bobby Portis	$11,710,818	$12,578,286
Pat Connaughton	$9,423,869	$9,423,869	$9,423,869
Grayson Allen	$8,925,000
MarJon Beauchamp	$2,609,400	$2,733,720	$4,781,276
Jevon carter	$2,239,943
total	$157,807,373	$112,927,444	$66,140,413

So as of right now, the Bucks have over 157.8 million committed to 8 players, including Middleton and Carter who have player options. With the luxury tax line expected to fall around 162 million, re-signing their key free agents could get very expensive for ownership if Middleton does opt into the final year of his contract. The new second apron and its dreaded penalties aren't set to kick in until next season so management doesn't have to worry about that for now, but of course that doesn't mean there isn't a limit put on them for what they can spend.
Milwaukee's free agents include Lopez, Ingles, Crowder, Thanasis, Matthews, Dragic, and Meyers Leonard. Lopez is obviously the priority, but he has value on the open market and will expect fair compensation if he does decide to return. The purpose of this exercise is not to debate the value of certain free agents and how much they'll get this summer, but we need to make some estimates. Let's say Lopez re-signs with the Bucks for 3 years, 15 million per season. In a scenario where Middleton and Carter pick up their 2023-2024 options, Milwaukee's total salary would be at around 10.8 million over the luxury cap this summer with 6 roster spots to fill out.
The ownership has shown willingness to pay luxury tax in the past, but there's always going to be a limit. And now there are new complications with paying the tax bill thanks to the new CBA. The already infamous 2nd apron is staring down teams, daring them not to cross. Furthermore, the Bucks are set to pay the luxury tax for a fourth consecutive season, triggering the repeater tax, which is even more brutal under the new CBA. The tax increase is reportedly not set to take effect until next year, but teams will still have to plan accordingly. And even without the increase, the repeater tax is pretty brutal as it stands.
Ownership dug into their pockets last season and paid out about 84 million in luxury tax after the team's payroll went almost 30 million over the line. However, if we assume that ownership is willing to pay the same amount this year, which isn't a given, then management can only allow the payroll to go about 24 million over the line for 2023-2024. While this is possible in a scenario where Middleton picks up his option and they pay Lopez around 15 million, it will involve a lot of veteran minimums and it's hard to see Milwaukee being able to use the taxpayer MLE to add a fresh face.
If management's desire is to bring back the core of the team and see how they perform under a new coaching staff, then I imagine they will look to negotiate a new deal with Middleton. Considering that he has 40.4 million sitting on the table, we shouldn't expect Khris to accept anything less than a large, long-term deal to replace it. Middleton opting out to sign a 4-year deal worth 28 million per year could make sense for both sides. From Khris's perspective it would be like adding 3 years for 72 million onto his current 40 million dollar deal, which is a fair extension for someone with his age and injury history. From the Bucks' perspective, they free up 12.4 million this season which they can use to comfortably re-sign Lopez and maybe even bring back Crowder or use the MLE in free agency.
Let's say that both Ingles and Thanasis re-sign to veteran minimum deals. Since it's probably an underpay, let's also say that Carter turns down his player option and re-signs for 2 years, 5 million annually. Here is what the Buck's cap sheet could *theoretically* look like after using the full taxpayer MLE, re-signing Middleton and Lopez, and filling out the roster with a couple vets and a rookie:

PLAYER	2023-2024	2024-2025	2025-2026	2026-2027
Giannis Antetokounmpo	$45,640,084	$48,787,676	$51,935,268
Jrue Holiday	$36,861,707	$39,403,893
Khris Middleton	$28,000,000	$28,000,000	$28,000,000	$28,000,000
Brook Lopez	$15,000,000	$15,000,000	$15,000,000
Bobby Portis	$11,710,818	$12,578,286
Pat Connaughton	$9,423,869	$9,423,869	$9,423,869
Grayson Allen	$8,925,000
2023-2024 MLE	$7,021,033
Jevon Carter	$5,000,000	$5,000,000
MarJon Beauchamp	$2,609,400	$2,733,720	$4,781,276
Joe Ingles	$1,989,697
Thanasis Antetokounmpo	$1,989,697
13th man	$1,989,697
14th man	$1,989,697
15th man	$1,102,928	$1,774,998	$1,989,697
total	$179,253,627
cap line	$162,000,000
over	$17,253,627
total tax to pay	$53,327,915.34

Under this configuration, the Bucks can keep their choice of free agents and also utilize the taxpayer MLE to add a new player to help them on their mission to win another championship. Of course, I don't expect their front office to end up with this cap sheet exactly as there are many different paths that they can go this summer. However, the Middleton decision is absolutely a domino for them as it could mean the difference between being able to run it back with a new free agent addition or struggling to re-sign Lopez.
TLDR: The Bucks are set to pay into the luxury line for a fourth consecutive season, triggering the repeater tax. It will be expensive, but feasible to bring back their key players from last season. Negotiating a new long term deal with Middleton could open up room to allow them to utilize the tax payer MLE this summer.
So what do you think friends? Do you expect the Bucks to run it back next year? Should they try to sign Middleton to a new deal? Did you get any interesting observations from this exercise? Do your best Jon Horst impression and let me know!

Introduction: Context

"Blockchain is bad, but the current AI hype is nothing like it! AI actually has a use!"
This account is an alt I created to vent out my frustrations during the penultimate phase of the recent crypto disaster, and I had abandoned this as I've deleted the reddit app on my phone (though I check these subreddits in my free time on the computer whenever I get curious).
I come across statements like the above-mentioned here and there more frequently now than ever. It is a vexing one, as it sounds functionally true but is categorically ahistorical—historically blind, that is. The socio-economic and market dynamics are undoubtedly different with "AI" and blockchain, that I can acknowledge; but statements and takes like these ignore crucial social realities. Needless to say, nothing will change my mind about blockchain and cryptocurrencies being a form of financial pseudoscience, so I hope that sets context.
Anyway, AI. "AI"—aside from being a functionally inaccurate and misleading marketing term—is a diverse umbrella that encompasses a myriad different things. Large language models happen to be one of them, along with other hype-applications in the spotlight at the minute.
Before I explain, let's look at the blockchain, cryptocurrencies, and bitcoin first. The thing about learning from history is that we cannot do that if we are dishonest to ourselves about what happened.

Crypto and the Court of Public Opinion: The Pitch

It would do us well to remember how we publicly perceived crypto before. I certainly am not an early member in Buttcoin or CryptoReality, but it is visible that outside of these critical niches, any public doubt towards blockchain and crypto were just obscure doubt mixed with curiosity at first. Actually, forget perception; let's think about the pitch on a good-faith basis.
Their pitch is digital money owned by no central legislative and/or executive entity that belongs to a network of free participants. Anyone can participate in the network with the requisite processing power and capital either as a miner or watcher. The longest chain is the authoritative chain, and you do not need to rely on social infrastructure to delegate authority. The ledger itself is the currency, and you could send it to anyone anywhere so long as they employ the same means and medium.
Now, today, we can find and empirically verify several flaws in this framing. Any longitudinal observation of blockchain interactions with society will demonstrate the following: it is by design too slow, unsafe, and resource-intensive as a technology. Forget replacing monetary functions and properties, it could not even adequately replicate them—that is, medium of exchange, measure of value, unit of account, standard of deferred payment, and store of value. This has been argued and proven over and over again.
I'm not here to prove that blockchain and cryptocurrencies are functionally useless concepts: we all know that.
I am highlighting the initial pitch and public perception. There was a pitch to sell. There was an argument that the evangelists could make. Most importantly, if they were to socially brute-force it, they could have forced us all use the blockchain to transact. It would only have been completely disastrous and an economic nightmare. In fact, El Salvador has lived (partially) that nightmare.
It has been over a decade. Whatever we have realised, we had realised it far too late (that is, so much damage has been done now). US and EU regulators are still moving far too slowly and taking actions that are far too stupid to deal with a pseudoscientific non-asset.
How the public perceived crypto before is how the dynamic that surrounds the contemporary AI hype is.
​

"AI" Parallels With Crypto-Mania

Level-headed researchers at DAIR have already warned about the actual dangers of AI years ago before these techbros went off on their inane doomer hype. In fact, they were not only ignored; but they suffered for it. These large language models and machine learning applications around generative art are extremely resource intensive, but those costs are currently obscured by all the venture capital money sloshing around.
As far as large language models go, at least, those things are functionally fancy autocorrect machines. Citing context-specific uses for these things is like saying "well, cryptography is useful for encryption and encryption is a good use-case, therefore cryptocurrency is also useful because it makes use of the same mechanisms."
These chatbots know nothing about anything. Feed it a large enough database and it spits out whatever it thinks is sequentially probabilistic. Seriously, what commercial use-case justifies it? Large language models, not "AI." Commercial use-cases. You would do well to know that private blockchains exist and that they are—albeit scantly—used in extremely context-specific cases for really niche and obscure things.
"Writing emails you don't want to write" — just write shorter emails. "Language assistant for second-language speakers" — they wouldn't know if the AI is spitting out the right thing; facilitate education instead. "Copywriting" — why? Writers would now need to take on an editoproofreader's role aside from getting the autocorrect machine to spew out the right thing plus constantly training it on new data (ChatGPT is trained on fixed data from the past, not recurrently changing data in the present). "Writing your academic essays" — that's plagiarism. "AI assistant!" — and how often do you spend time jubilantly talking to Siri or Cortana in lieu of one-liners to questions like 'where's the nearest Pizza Hut?' "Search engine assistant/summariser!" — super-autocorrect is horrible at summarising things and often just makes shit up; its entire functionality diverges from what a search engine does.
Et cetera, et cetera.
What about support from contemporary figures, right? Surely, it must mean something. If we have learned anything by now, it is to not take billionaires and VC bros seriously. Being against crypto isn't automatically a sign that they are saying sensible things, we have to start seeing beyond this bubble-like thinking. I mean, for god's sake, Bill Gates thought Bitcoin was innovative years ago. That Liron Shapira guy who funded blockchain stuff and then hard pivoted later is now an ardent AI doomer. Elon Musk, Apple, Adobe, Google; I can list so many things.
Seriously, it's time to wisen up.
​

"AI:" Introspection and Reflection

Of course there are facets of machine learning, deep learning, neural nets, etc. that are "useful" in our everyday lives. Think facial recognition biometric security; I use facial recognition and fingerprints to access my devices in lieu of pin codes and passwords now. "AI" refers to a mosaic, a kaleidoscope with several different facets.
The current hype is indubitably around "AGI" — that is, "smart" computers — and that is the direction the venture capital exodus is headed. As for the "technology" in the spotlight right now, I can think of some very niche minimal use-cases for those, but nothing that is disruptive or justifies the intensive use of resources. With large language models in particular, I just struggle to see just what on God's green earth we could popularly use it for. The same goes for deepfake voice tech. Presidents playing Minecraft, okay... sure. How is that use-case any less vain than "well, you can send money from computer to computer?"
We know what it would actually be used for: identity theft, scamming, sim swaps, fraud, plagiarism, etc. That is where these things' greatest use case lies. We've had deepfake tech for a while now, can anyone name a popular use-case for it beyond making pornographic content of people without their consent? Anyone? Anything at all?
Just because we could do something does not mean we should.
Just how much money, time, resources, and data do we need to waste before we realise this? Will we take yet another decade to come to this realisation as we have with crypto? Just how many people and their labour must be exploited and belittled before we all wisen up?

Dear PROP/CDC, Here's What Happens When You Over-Restrict Pills: More Deaths. Nice Going. By Josh Bloom — December 12, 2018 No Explanation Needed. Photo: winsomeaunt.blogspot [1] If Shakespeare were alive today he would be hard-pressed to come up with a script that could match the tragedy that has been imposed on this country by self-appointed drug experts, bureaucrats, self-serving politicians, and various other fools. It's that bad. And it was largely preventable.
So, let's all congratulate the CDC for sticking its nose where it should not have been and the P hysicians Responsible for Opioid Prohibition (1) for creating a mess that we will not be getting out of anytime soon.
A new report [2] from in the December 12th National Vital Statistics Reports (NVSR) confirms what patient pain advocates and I have been saying all along - that we've been fighting the wrong war (against prescription opioid analgesics) and, in doing so, managed to screw two things up at the same time. 1. Pain patients are suffering 2. More people, not fewer, are dying
One can only hope that the press, which has been pathetically inept in its coverage of the "opioid crisis," which is really the "fentanyl crisis," might pay attention to the new report and possibly start to get the story right. But don't get your hopes up. To do so would entail not only reading the report but also, understanding what it says.
I'll make it easy for them. As I've written repeatedly, pills are not the real problem (See No, Vicodin Is Not The Real Killer In The Opioid Crisis [3]and The Opioid Epidemic In 6 Charts Designed To Deceive You [4]); it is the difficulty of obtaining them that is now. The NVSR makes this painfully obvious.
Here's why. In 2011 (Table 1), there were 41,340 overdose deaths from all drugs - legal, illegal, prescription, and over the counter. Oxycodone was the primary cause of OD deaths (5,587, 13.5% of total). But a closer look at Table 1 reveals some interesting facts. Table 1. The 15 drugs responsible for most overdose deaths in 2011. Source: National Vital Statistics Reports A closer look at Table 1 (I added the notes in color) reveals some interesting trends. Although oxycodone leads the pack with 5,587 deaths, illegal drugs, heroin, cocaine, and methamphetamine, killed twice as many people (and alcohol killed 80,000). The number for heroin is almost certainly too low, probably by a lot. This is because heroin is rapidly metabolized to morphine, so someone who died from a heroin overdose will also test positive for morphine. Since people on the street generally, don't inject themselves with morphine, it is plausible that most of the morphine overdoses were actually from heroin.
Although two benzodiazepine sedatives, Xanax and Valium are on the list, this is somewhat misleading.
Virtually all of these deaths are a result of concomitant use of alcohol or opioids. It is virtually impossible to kill yourself with Valium alone. In a case study [5], a woman who tried to commit suicide took 2,000 mg of the drug - the equivalent of 400 five milligram pills and walked out of the hospital two days later. (See Can Valium Kill You? [6]).
In high doses, patients may manifest coma, respiratory depression, hypotension, hypothermia, and rhabdomyolysis. Otherwise, benzodiazepines are remarkably safe as single agents. TOXNET [7], Toxicology Data Network Now, let's take a look at the same data for 2016 (Table 2). The changes are startling. Table 2. Overdose deaths from the 15 most common drugs. Note that adding the percentages results in a number considerably higher than 100.
Likewise, adding the number of deaths gives a number greater than 63,632. This is because when multiple drugs are involved they are all counted. The term "fentanyl deaths" almost always means "illicit fentanyl and its analogs, not prescriptions patches. In Table 2, the damage of six years of bad policy becomes evident. Despite a 25% reduction in opioid prescriptions [8] during that time, 22,292 (54%) more people died from drug overdoses, despite the fact that the number of OD deaths from oxycodone (Percocet) and hydrocodone (Vicodin) remained essentially unchanged.
And there's more (and it's really crazy). Note that the number of deaths from diphenhydramine (Benadryl) isn't terribly different from the number from Vicodin. Are we having a "Benadryl Crisis?" And even crazier - look at gabapentin (Neurontin, yellow arrow). Neurontin is being used like crazy (mostly off-label) as an alternative to opioids. Except it doesn't work. But it managed to creep into the Top 15 list. I'm speechless.
So, here's the report card: Restricting prescriptions of opioid analgesics had approximately zero effect on overdose deaths from the pills.
But it did result in incalculable suffering of pain patients. And it also caused more deaths as oxycodone users switched to heroin, something we've known since 2010.
This switch created a huge heroin market, which was filled by fentanyl starting in 2014 (Figure 1). Figure 1. Deaths from illicit fentanyl and its analogs 2014-2017 (blue hatch line). The red circle shows that fentanyl overdose deaths were rare before 2014 but were by far the major cause of death (green circle) in 2017. Source: National Institute on Drug Abuse [9]. If this is not an example of an abysmal policy then nothing is. Yet, despite this overwhelming evidence, we still hear crap like this: When you talk about opioid pain medicines, we’re essentially talking about heroin pills Andrew Kolodny, Executive director of Physicians for Responsible Opioid Prescribing. 2017?????? [10] No, Andrew, we're not. Read this article and then try to make that same statement with a straight face.
The false narrative of prescriptions doing the killing persists despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary. The longer it persists, more pain patients will suffer and more people will die.
These charts are not lying. Too bad I can't say the same about others. NOTE: (1) I changed the name of the group to something more accurate. So sue me. COPYRIGHT © 1978-2016 BY THE AMERICAN COUNCIL ON SCIENCE AND HEALTH Source URL:
https://www.acsh.org/news/2018/12/12/dear-propcdc-heres-what-happens-when-you-over- restrict-pills-more-deaths-nice-going-13663
Links
[1] http://winsomeaunt.blogspot.com/2012/02/enough-already.html
[2] https://www.cdc.gov/nchs/data/nvsnvsr67/nvsr67_09-508.pdf
[3] https://www.acsh.org/news/2017/04/12/no-vicodin-not-real-killer-opioid-crisis-11123
[4] https://www.acsh.org/news/2017/10/12/opioid-epidemic-6-charts-designed-deceive-you-11935
[5] https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/357765
[6] https://www.acsh.org/news/2017/01/04/can-valium-kill-you-10675
[7] https://toxnet.nlm.nih.gov/cgi-bin/sis/search/a?dbs+hsdb:@[email protected]+7207
[8] https://www.aafp.org/news/health-of-the-public/20180425opioidstudy.html
[9] https://www.drugabuse.gov/related-topics/trends-statistics/overdose-death-rates
[10] https://www.cjonline.com/business/local/2017-08-29/it-s-coming-kansas-health-professionals-leaders- consider-opioid-crisis

Ugh. I saw cai footwear online years ago and I thought hmm designs look decent. I tried them during their early days when they were mainly targeting exhibitions. Before they had a store. And they were so uncomfortable and poorly designed in terms of grip where the strap ends the flopping the shoes create because of how their straps are angled etc (sorry I don’t have the right words)
Then I saw Masoom promoting them left right centre. And saying I spend all day in my cai heels. I thought hmm maybe they’ve improved and I gave it another shot Still bad and I thought god knows why she’s promoting the brand. I can’t imagine how must they must be paying her and she’s def lying about it not being sponsored cause the shoes are shit and she wouldn’t promote it if she’s not getting paid
Today I got to know cai is her families!!!
How fucking misleading. To say that I’m not paid to say this but I truly love my cai shoes. Ofcourse you aren’t paid to say it. It’s your family.
People shit on otherwarya a lot but atleast when she’s posting about drsheth (which is a friends brand) she is upfront about the fact that he’s a friend and she’s doing this for free. And her reviews are honest.
Ugh. I knew she must be promoting bogus. But not even once mentioning her sis in law is weird and purposefully misleading.
Maybe she has posted and I missed it. But whatever. BRB imma go block her so she doesn’t show up on my explore also

Got rear ended for the first time today. I was just chilling in the queue of traffic at a junction looking to my right and all of a sudden a load bang from behind and my bike launched forwards. No injures to me and the bike didn't even fall over. As far as im aware no damage to the bike either.
Quickly got off to inquire what had happened with the driver behind and he responded by saying "its just an accident, drive on traffic was moving.". I told him we need to swap insurance details and he just decided to drive off. Got his license plate and called 999. They didnt send anyone out and just advised me to report it online. Thou the guy on the phone did give me a reference number.
I just reported this to the police online and called my insurance. Not sure whats going to happen now. I feel like shit. I was planning on cooking today after doing my shopping but nah, went straight home after this incident. Might order some chinese later.

Not even 10 minutes into the men's sunday school class at my grandparents' church and the lgbtqphobia comes up. This is why I loath coming to this church. The group leader said Christians can't allow lgbtq rights, or something along those lines.
As Christians it is our DUTY to fight for the opressed and rights for all.
I only came today for my Grandpa who's giving a testemony about surviving an accident that should have ruined him.
I thank the Lord for giving me the control not to lose it. I got up and left saying I didn't feel well (which wasn't really a lie). I just pray the pastor doesn't go full-on hate in his sermon (he has a history of it, and it is the first Sunday Pride month).
I can't wait to go back home to my affirming Church.

Basically, yesterday I disconnected my Supercell ID account on accident, and so I tried to log-in to get it back. However, after multiple tries both yesterday and today, it seems like the email won't arrive anytime soon. One thing i noticed tho was that i got 3 emails yesterday (1 hour after the log-in attempts) that all had the same exact code in them, but when i tried putting them in the log-in page it told me they were wrong, and didn't send me another one. What can I do? Since i know you'll be asking these questions, i'll answer them myself first: - "Have you checked the spam/junk box?" Yes, I did, and there's no trace of a Supercell ID email; - "Did you input the email correctly?" Yes, I double-checked numerous times; - "Did you search "Supercell ID" among your emails?" Yes, and only very old emails appeared (we're talking about emails from 2021-2022).

Friday I had a weird sleep day. Had a 2.5 hr nap after work by accident lol which played in my favour because I was going out that night. This lowered my sleep need to 4.5 hrs. Ended up going to bed at 2am and waking up at 7:30am. No alcohol was consumed that night. Accumulated a strain of 7.7 for Friday (it was a rest day).
Woke up with a decent recovery (70%) on Saturday. Had a pretty strenuous workout and accumulated a 16 strain on the day.
I had more sleep need for Saturday night (8 hrs) which I hit (8.5 hrs). Woke up with a lower rhr (49 vs 51), same hrv (92 both days)...but lower recovery score? Anyone know why that might be? It's just weird to me because I feel like my numbers would reflect a better recovery for today?
Thanks in advance!

OK take two. This is very important I say this here since ppl don't know how to read. This is my now sitch. I have a good job making ok money and so does my husband. I will add the OG text becailse I deleted the OG since idk how to edit my posts I'm new to reddit.
Please keep in mind this all happend over a year ago and I want to just get it off my chest because things have DRASTICLY CHANGED. So here it goes.
So this will be a long one and I apologize for that. A year ago my step mom called Cps (child protective services) on me. And now my dad is gaslighting me to try to make me feel guilty and to have me to apologize for her doing it.
Here is a little back story to understand how this got so bad. I (f 27) met my fiance (m28) 5 years ago, we got pregnant 6 months after we met. It was not on purpose, and I admit we weren't careful because I was told at 19 I'd never be able to have kids due to some medical issues.
Now I moved in with my fiance after we had the baby (f), and I was a SAHM I worked Uber and Doordarsh and instacart while I was a SAHM. My fiance let's call him J, worked full time at a box store. We rent from Inlaws and it's a decent place just small. We had to fit two lives in one area and when H was a baby it was easy to keep up. Now she's three and we are teaching her to clean up after herself.
Fast forward to Dec 2021, J had quite his job and we were both driving for DD and Uber eats (this was not permanent since he was looking for a job right after he had quit his job for good reasons)not really making much at all, and my step mom and dad kept telling me that I needed to do better. I already was trying to do better and was secretly looking for a job. I say secretly because then I knew they would say something along the lines of good your finally listening to us. And I did not need that. So in Dec my step mom had a party. We had talked and agreed I'd let them take my daughter until the day of the party. When my dad came to get my daughter she was in the bath because she had woken up from her nap completely drenched in pee since her diaper leaked. I told him it'll be a couple minutes and then she would be ready, I went to check on her. When I came back he was in her room and I saw his phone was in photo mode. I saw red! I berated him about taking photos of my home and how disrespectful it was. He at first tried to deny it but when I pushed the issue he finally admitted he was doing it at my Step mom's orders.
I was so upset. I told him to delete the photos and he told me if he didn't bring them he would get into trouble with my step mom. I said if I ever catch you taking photos of my home secretly again we would have a different convo. I did end up letting him take H (daughter) because I didn't want her to not have fun. I had told myself I would just talk to my step mom at the party and tell her that is a boundary that was crossed. (Yes in hindsight not a smart move for me but I didn't think it'd had gotten as bad as it did)
The party came and as I was just enjoying it everyone in my family was really heavily telling me I needed to spend the night, and I kept saying no because I had planned to work the next day and knew I'd stay and never work. I finally cornered my step mom and asked her to talk with me. She was refusing originally but I was persistent. I told her how bad it looked she was taking pictures of my home and she said "if I wanted to call CPS on you I wouldn't need pictures " 🚩number 2. I then told her it was a boundary for me for her to secretly take photos and have me feel like a poor parent because my home was messy. Her response to this was "honestly, I'm tempted to take H until you get your shit together."
I was dumb founded! I took my daughter and left. For three weeks I did not talk to them. After a week I let H face time them but I was not in the video chat and I would not say anything if very minimal. During those three weeks I worked non stop on the delivery apps and didn't really get any rest I was working mon-sun from 6am to 7 pm just to get gas and food money. I DID HEAR BACK AND HAD SEVERAL JOB INTERVIEWS LINED UP BY THIS TIME. By week three my dad and step mom asked me to come up and I felt I could handle it finally and said I'd come that Sunday. Well that Saturday I had a babys shower and my mom was teaching me how to cook turkey. I still worked in the am and was a little late to the shower. Mom and I had a blast at cooking turkey and the next day I woke up late. H didn't and by the time I woke up we had an hour before her nap. And if I'm honest I still didn't want to see my family. So I laid her down and fell back asleep untill about 3pm. I woke up in a panic because I knew I was in deep shit with my step mom. I rushed to get my kid and our stuff into my car and try to get up there as alfast as I could ( the drive was an hr from my moms 2 1/2 from my home) and as I was pulling out of my.moms street I got a text
" don't bother coming up because I wanted to spend the whole day with H not a few hrs." But I went anyways and the whole time my step mom tried to ignore me. She kept saying how she wanted H to stay the weekend and just have some time alone with her. Side note me and my husband both agreed by then our daughter would not be going to spend the night by herself for a very long time because I had reason my step mom was going to try and take her or try ro stop me from taking her back.
I kept saying.how I'd love to join them so I could reconnect with the family. My step mom did not sound happy with my suggestion. Well around 9 I finally said we had to leave because I needed to drive the 2 and a half hours back home. We said our good byes and headed out About 20 minutes into the drive I called my mom to see if I could spend the night again becaise she was closest, because I was worried with how tired I was I'd get into an accident. She of course agreed and I stayed the night. I stay lied at her house talking how the rest of that day had gone and she was weirded out too. I got to my home about 5 pm and 30 minutes later my MIL come knocking at the basement door in a tizzy because there was a CPS worker at her door. My heart stopped. My husband and I went up greeted the worker and let her in. She said that she was there because there had been a complaint against us. I knew right away who. And asked her if it was my step mom. She said she couldn't disclose that because her job was to keep the peace. Well she came to see the home and inspect it. After she asked questions and looked around. She stated that other then a few things around the house needed to be fixed (easy fixes too) she didn't see a reason for the call. She said the complaint was there was cat pee smell everywhere and it was bad. She said she knew we had two cats but couldn't smell them... that was kinda prideful for me. She said to clean the home and fix the few things physically. she would came back for a follow up in two weeks (it was early 3 months by the time she came back) she told me that she felt that she'd be able to close our case relatively easy. We bid her goodbye. And the first call was to my mom screaming and crying on how I didn't have a dad and that my step monster had really overstepped. I told her everything she was seething! So was my husband and MIL. I was in Shock and tears, I blocked my SM and called my dad crying and upset on what he just let happen and I got nothing back. Then I told my mom he didn't puck up she called him a cowered. She then took a call to him and cussed him out. I blocked him then unblocked him. And it wasn't until three days later he called me back i didnt answer. He said he didn't know I had called and that he would try my mom. When I heard that on the voice mail I took a little pleasure because he did not know what he was in for. J had to hold me because I had started to shake after hearing my dad's voice. I called my mom told her he would call and to call me when she was done. She did told me she cussed him out and told him how he has abandoned me yet again and how much of a shifty father he was to not protect me or to warn me what was transpireing from his wife. He defended himself and said he had no knowledge my mom didn't let him get away with that. And he admitted to knowing somthing but sisnt think she would go through with it.
I ignored his calls for two weeks. He called everyday. Which is sad to say he never did that before he would call maybe every other week. Then I got a message from my SM. " A it's obvious you don't see me as a mother but if you don't let your dad see H I will blast you on FB and put all the evidence out there. Becaise obviously I'm not your mother it hurts your dad that you rnt talking to him. I am a grown women who makes her own decisions and i called csp with out your fathers knowlage. (She mentions that obviously I don't see her as a mom again even though prior I did call her mom.)" I screen shotted the message and sent it to my dad and said this has to stop I will talk when I'm ready. About a week later I finally picked up my dad's call and I had him on speaker. I told him I felt I had no father and how he abandoned me. How he didn't tell me what was happening. And so much more.
But after that I started to forgive him because being mad is more work. Plus he isn't soly responsible. Now I see home on and off. But recently he has been gaslighting me when he brings the whole situation up. Saying things like
"It's hard on me because I want my whole family back", and "how SM didn't really call out of spite but to get you to do what she wanted. I had told him through the first meet up that I had a job lined up and had worked hard on the house. (At this point the house was immaculate its amazing what organization can do. Ps somthing i had been working on doing before all this happed!) During the first few days I couldn't work while we were cleaning because we were cleaning all day everyday. For two weeks I couldn't go work alone the apps because I was waiting for the cps worker to show up. J had started to work the apps and doing interviews during that time as well. my mom helped us with getting strage and food during the time I couldn't work. BTW I knew stroage is what we needed all along to our mess, and have been telling them all that. He praised me for the job and cleaning and I told him I didn't need his validation and I didn't get the job because of cps I had started looking before this all transpired. He asked why I didn't say anything because it would have had SM calm down and probably not call CPS. (Highly doubt it) I told him because it's my life and I'm going to live it the way I see fit not him and definitely not my SM.
But anyway like I said now he just gas lights me to day I have to make the first move because i made a TT when I was mad calling her a narcissistic abuser and she saw it and hurt her feelings and how she was not afraid she had hurt all of us.... 🙄. So am I the asshole for the TT and should I apologize for everything and speak first or what should I do now? I will say I wrote a note to her that I haven't sent expressing my feelings and what I needed to say. Thank you for any advice plus for reading this long story! Also sorry for bad Grammer and bad spelling lol. The messiness of the house consisted of laundry in baskets because I didn't have a place for towels and bedding and loads of books and other things I use on a regular with no storage. It's now organized and put away thanks to my amazing mom who helped me through this time of my life.
Now this is where I give what life looks like now.
The house is still a little messy but that's just home life with a toddler. The dishes are still done and laundry put away but now her toys are EVERYWHERE she finished her first year of PreK (it's for her speech therapy) and my fiancé and I are bis drivers and make ok money. It's still our first year of it but hey!
I worked at HD for a year and for several months of that year I worked both bus and HD working in till 5 at bus and from 530 to 10 pm. I quite HD to focuse on bus. No the catalyst for the job was NOT my sms doing and I don't care what she thinks
Yes I still have a relationship with my dad but he is at arms length at all times. Yes I left a lot out originally and now I see why that is bad.
I want to thank all the commenter before who wasn't tearing me down and shaming me for my PAST and trying to give me good vibes and helpful tips! I don't know how to delete comments I'm new to reddit. Please do not come for me for my PAST issues I'm not that pathetic person anymore. I have refound my original self and going strong and hard to figure out all the possibilities I can do to better my family every day.

Hi, I have bpd and a huge trigger of mine is when something (bad or neutral) happens which forces me to change my plans or to do something I don’t want to do. It could be someone canceling plans with me or maybe some small accident. I feel so stressed that I literally panick and feel like my life is falling apart. It gives me a lot of anxiety and I’m not able to change my mindset even if I am aware that the situation is not that bad.
For example, today I had planned to see my ex girlfriend (which I still love, btw, not a great idea), but this morning she cancelled. She also didn’t want to tell me what she had to do and I started spiraling (but I didn’t say anything to her), so first huge trigger but I tried to remain calm.
Then I had to go to the hospital because apparently I have an infection in my eye , the doctor prescribed some medicine and told me to go there again in a few days because he needs to visit me again. This is a lot of money and also I have to make time for this, which is difficult since I have to work and other appointments.
I know this is not a big deal, however now I’m so stressed that I can’t go on with my day. I know this is my bdp reacting but I don’t know how to feel calm again. Do someone ever feel the same way? How do you cope with this feeling of frustration?

This is my headcanon for the events following Suzerain as the game played out in my (communist) playthrough:
Disclaimer 1: This obviously includes many spoilers from the game.
Disclaimer 2: This story is written with storytelling and lore at the forefront, not necessarily gameplay accuracy.
Disclaimer 3: This is only the first chapter (and backstory) of this headcanon story/fanfic/whatever you want to call it. I want to write more, but would like to see what people in the Suzerain community think about the writing so far and if they’d like to see more of it. :)
(Part 1 is on my page if you cannot find it elsewhere)

Chapter 1: Inauguration Day (Continuation)

Serge had always been one for praise as long as Anton had known him, but it seemed to be out of sheer admiration and trust, unlike the usual political suck-up. It was definitely appreciated praise, but somewhat uncomfortable in a way, as Anton wasn’t used to such high praise from politicians, and was a little afraid all the compliments would bloat his ego. Though he rarely vocally disagreed with Serge’s remarks, as a president shouldn’t appear doubtful of their abilities. That was one of the many rules Anton had learned to follow as a president. He didn’t like it, yet it had still become almost second nature to him by now, something that also concerned him quite a bit.
“Thank you for your trust in me Serge. It truly means a lot.” Serge smiled through the rear-view mirror once more before replying “Thank you Mr. President for setting such a great example for the people of this nation.” Anton knew it would be impossible to beat Serge in a humility contest, so he conceded with his usual reply “You are too kind, Serge.” Before long they were off, and it didn’t take them as long as they’d thought to get back to the hill of pride, as the traffic had wound down along with the day. As the car headed up the long and winding road that led to the maroon palace through capitol park Anton noticed the palace gates were open and the driveway was filled with journalists, as opposed to the politicians and oligarchs usually present at the previous inauguration events. As Serge entered the car into the driveway, the journalists made way for the car to park next to the small row of black sedans and limos that had brought the rest of the night’s dinner guests to the palace.
Serge quickly stopped the engine and exited the car to open Anton’s door. As he did so, Anton was met with the now familiar camera flashes and the sounds of journalists speaking over each other to the point of near incomprehension. “Mr. President” started a young woman in a sharp azure pantsuit, holding a microphone up to the President’s lips. “There have been a lot of concerns voiced by the opposition after you used the phrase ‘Sordish Revolution’ at your rally. Is the opposition correct that this is an indication of political violence being endorsed by the presidency?” Anton noticed the ‘Lachaven Times’ label on the woman’s microphone before replying to her question. “No. Revolution does not mean violence. Revolution means that this country has problems, and we need radical and rapid change to address those issues.”
“Mr. President, one more question. This revolution outburst, as well as your administration’s close association with communism and United Contana, has brought fear to the hearts of many business owners in Sordland. Do you plan to completely nationalise our nation’s economy, and will business owners be compensated for the loss of the fruits of their labour? Anton briefly chuckled before opening his mouth to reply. Before he could do so however, he saw a hand cover the woman’s microphone. “The President will not be answering any more questions as of now.” Ranye looked left and saw his newly appointed Vice President, Lucian, looking as stern as ever. He took his other hand on Anton’s back, leading him away from the flock of journalists, into the maroon palace.
As they moved inside, there were still a large amount of journalists, although not as many as there were outside. These journalists however, knew better than to try and approach the President, as Lucian’s glare was warning enough. “It’s good to have you here Mr. President. We’ve already set up everything in the dining room upstairs, both for the dinner itself and the televising of the event. Your wife insisted on waiting on you in your office. It would be good for the press to be able to get pictures of you two together, so I would advise you to go get her so you can welcome the dinner guests together.” Anton now noticed his Vice President was wearing a tuxedo, as were many of the male journalists and camera crew. “Knowing you, there is already a tuxedo in my office as well.” Lucian nodded. “Thank you. I’ll go get ready.”
As the President and Vice President separated, it did not take long before Anton found himself in conversation again, while on his way to his office. This time with the director of the Sordish Radio and Television Supreme Council that Anton had founded during his first administration. In fact this was Anton’s first time meeting the director of the council, as Lucian was the one who appointed him. “Mr. President, it’s an honour to meet you. Damien Ves, at your service.” The stocky and wide man grabbed Anton’s hand and shook it. “It’s a pleasure to finally be able to meet with you Mr. Ves. Lucian told me you’d be in charge of today’s broadcast.” Anton began to increase his pace, which Damien attempted to duplicate. “Yes, it's all very exciting. It will be like you’re having dinner with the entire country! This new technology is amazing!”
“Yes, truly amazing. If you’ll excuse me I have to go get ready. It was nice meeting you.” Anton entered his office and closed the door with a sigh. Before being able to look around the room, he was ambushed by a hug from his daughter Deana. “Papa! You’re finally here!” Anton looked down at his daughter, who looked tired from the eventful day. “How did you like the rally sweetheart?” asked Anton as he got down on one knee to be eye-level with Deana. “There were so many people! Mama talked to so many of them. She talked a lot about exploitation. What is exploitation Papa?”
Before Anton could think of how he was going to explain that to his daughter, Monica came up behind her and picked her up. “Alright, let your papa at least get inside properly before you start asking him harder questions than the journalists outside.” Anton followed his wife into the room as she plopped down Deana on the couch. Only then was he able to see how beautiful his wife looked in her elegant scarlet dress. The only thing he could fathom doing was kissing her, and as he did, she pulled away. “Later. Now you have to get ready. It’s nearly seven.” Before going to the bathroom in his office to change, Anton took a last look at his wife as she started doing Deana’s hair. “You look absolutely gorgeous, honey.” Monica gave her husband a warm smile and a wink back as a reply.
Anton entered the office bathroom, where a tuxedo hung from the door on a hanger. It looked old, yet well-maintained. Its white bowtie and waistcoat, coupled with a long tailcoat reminded Anton of the similar suits worn by the wealthiest students during his time at university in the 1920s. As he put on the tuxedo and started adjusting it, he found a note in the left-hand pocket on the tailcoat.
It read “Anton, as you read this, getting ready for the start of your next term, know that the people of Sordland have reaffirmed their trust in you, and it is your duty to not let them down. This suit belonged to my father, and he used it for events just like the one you’re about to go to all the time when he was president. When he fell, Sordland became cursed with two despots, who ignored the cries of the weak. I believe that you have the power to break that curse, as evident by your first term. I believe that you are the only one who might be able to stop this curse now. But only if you keep true to yourself and your ideals, don’t let the world of politics suck you in too much. Don’t forget that you are where you are to serve the people. Not the powerful, but the weak. Good luck my old student and good friend. -Deivid Wisci.”
Anton had very fond memories of his mentor Deivid Wisci, both as his professor, and as his minister of foreign affairs. The day he retired was a sad day for Sordland. Although he definitely deserved a retirement, after all the good he had done, Anton thought to himself. He put the note back in his pocket and adjusted his bowtie for the final time. Before leaving the bathroom however, he remembered to take the pocket watch he was gifted by Serge from the breast-pocket of his usual attire. He placed it in the breast-pocket of his new tailcoat, slicked back his jet black hair, and headed out of the bathroom. “Ready?” Monica and Deana were sitting on the couch patiently waiting. “Yes, let’s go.” Anton reached out his hand to escort Monica out. As she put her hand into his, he kissed her hand before the pair proceeded out of the office along with Deana.
The Rayne family made their way into the maroon palace’s dining room, where the camera crew had already started filming. Anton and his family took their place in the lounge area that decorated the backdrop for the dining table, where the Rayne cabinet slowly started to assemble to be welcomed by Anton and Monica. First was Lucian who, to nobody’s surprise, came alone. He came up to Anton and shook his hand, followed by that of Monica’s, while Deana tried to hide slightly behind her mother. Lucian took his seat in the lounge, making sure to sit as close to Anton as he could.
He was soon followed by the equally lonesome minister of defence, Iosef Lancea. Unlike nearly every man present in the maroon palace however, Iosef came in his regular military attire, as opposed to a tuxedo, or even a regular suit. Although Anton was unsure, he might’ve added a few medals to his uniform for the occasion. He saluted the President and First Lady, to which Anton replied with an adequate, but not nearly as impressive salute. He took his seat next to Lucian, and they started the obligatory small-talk that was expected of them as dinner guests.
At last came the minister of agriculture, Gus Manger, who was accompanied by his wife and son. They walked up to the President’s family, where Gus proceeded to shake Monica’s hand, while his wife greeted Anton. They then switched places, and Anton welcomed Gus and his family to the palace, and to the dinner. Gus then took his seat beside Iosef, promptly followed by his wife and son. Anton didn’t know much about Gus’ family, however his son somewhat reminded him of Franc, albeit a few years younger. The boy didn’t seem that excited to be here, understandably enough. It seemed as though Monica had noticed the same thing, as she faintly pulled on her husband’s arm, gesturing to him to lead everyone to their seats at the table.
As he was about to do just that, the doors to the eastern wing of the room swung open one more time. It was Ciara. She was wearing an off-white dress, surprisingly similar in shade to the bathrobe she’d worn earlier today, though obviously much more classy. Monica gave Anton’s hand a slight squeeze as she noticed her friend. Anton looked towards a smiling Monica, and gave her a grin back. “You managed to get her to rejoin your cabinet?” Anton smiled even wider “It was a hard task, but I think you had a lot to do with it.” Ciara walked up to Monica and shook her hand, bowing slightly as she did it. She turned to Anton and shook his hand, though not with as much vigour as with Monica. “Mr. President.” “Ms. Walda. Welcome.”
When the rest of the guests noticed Ciara, Iosef flung up out of his seat, looking positively resentful. “What is she doing here? Didn’t you resign you-” Lucian quickly got out of his seat and put his hand on Iosef’s shoulder, or at least as far as he could get to the shoulder of the colossal man. Iosef turned his head sharply and scowled at Lucian, prompting him to remove his hand and gesture to Damien, who was behind the camera, making sure our conversation was out of range for the camera to pick up on. Iosef turned to Anton “Mr. President, with all due respect, did you really invite this woman back to your cabinet after her treacherous resignation?!” Anton had noticed the tension between Iosef and Ciara the few times they’d been in the same room together, and it was clear they were good at pressing each other’s buttons, intentionally or not. Iosef must’ve been glad when she resigned. For her to come back unannounced must’ve been seen as a big middle finger to not just Iosef, but Lucian as well, as Anton hadn’t discussed it with him either. But Lucian, unlike Iosef, knew how to act like a politician, and wouldn’t risk his career for a televised outburst.
“Iosef, with all due respect, I am your superior. We need people in our cabinet, and may I remind you that this event is currently being televised.” Anton stared at Iosef in a way he’d never done before. It was actually quite satisfying for Anton to be able to speak to Iosef like that, as he had real experience on how Iosef treated his subordinates from his time in the army. Iosef mumbled something before speaking up “Of course Mr. President. I am sorry.” Anton could actually see Iosef’s eye visibly twitch as he mouthed that last part. “Good, then we’ll be seated. Follow me everyone, right this way.” President Rayne led the dinner guests towards the table, where Deana and Gus’ son were seated first, followed by Ciara, Monica and Gus’ wife, the two latter of whom were seated by their husbands respectively. After which the rest of the cabinet, along with Anton took their seats.
The camera panned to look directly at Anton, who would deliver his post-inauguration speech to the nation. “Brothers and sisters, today has been a great day, not just for myself, not just for the USP, but for our nation. You have reaffirmed your support for me as your President, as a conduit for the will of the people. In doing so you have reaffirmed your trust in our nation, our collective passion to make the lives of others better. Because that is what a nation is. A nation is a band of people who share a home, and who are passionate enough to help each other and push each other forward to greater things. It is a sentiment to collectivism and what we can accomplish when we band together and fight for each other, with compassion and solidarity. That is what we are, we are brothers and sisters. No matter if you are a sord or blud, man or woman, eight or eighty. If you live in Sordland, your neighbours are your brothers and sisters, together you hold this nation on your backs through your trust and your belief that together we can make the world a better place. United we stand, divided we fall. A Morgna wes core, vectern sis da!”
The camera panned away from Anton’s face but continued filming the dining table. Everyone seated applauded Anton’s speech. He raised his wine glass, which had already been filled prior to everyone being seated. “I’d also like to raise a toast. To Bernard Circas. We sit here, on the four year anniversary of the tragic end of his great life. His words moved millions, and continue to move millions more after his death. He inspired love, compassion and hope. He dreamed of a better Sordland, one where we were free of exploitation and united in proletarian solidarity.” There were mixed reactions across the table, but mainly looks of disagreement. Anton continued nonetheless. “Bernard was killed for his beliefs. After a long investigation the main culprits are finally behind bars, but this does not solve the deeper issue. Fascism. The scourge that kept Bernard’s dream from being realised is what killed him, and he will have died in vain if we do not take that threat seriously, and do what we can to rid this country of the fascism that wants to tear it apart. It was only Bernard who would have the words to give us the hope we need, but while he is gone, his spirit remains, and it remains to give us the willpower we need to do what we can to make sure nothing like what happened four years ago ever happens again. To Bernard, our only strength is the will to survive.”
After Anton finished he took a sip of his bitter wine and sat the glass back down, followed by everyone else. Iosef mumbled something again, but as Anton briefly looked towards Damien, it looked like the speech, and following toast, had been a hit with him and the rest of the camera crew. “Well said Mr. President '' said Lucian, before taking another sip of his wine. A moment later, the chef, a tall and lanky young man, came out followed by servers bearing plates of food. “For the first course we have prepared…” The next few hours flew by as Anton was bored senseless by the conversations, or lack thereof, between the “strictly-work-talk” Vice President, traditionalist minister of defence, radical minister of education, and anrican capitalist minister of agriculture. After hours of dull conversation and several courses, all representing a different region of Sordland, the dinner was finally over and the broadcast finished off with a speech from the first lady. Anton felt bad, being too tired to properly listen to Monica’s speech, although it seemed to have a similar effect on the guests as Anton’s speech did. As the applause following her speech died down, the broadcast was shut off, and nearly everyone in the room let out a sigh of relief, including Anton and Monica.
Anton stood up, and was followed by the rest of the table. The presidential couple bid farewell to their guests as nearly everyone left. As Anton, Monica and Deana were getting ready to go change and head home, Anton was approached by Damien who wanted to have a few words before leaving.
“It was a wonderful broadcast Mr. President!” he said with a fake enthusiasm. Damien knew the basics of political intrigue, but had yet to grasp the subtle art of lying convincingly. Anton simply replied “Thank you, Mr. Ves, you did very well yourself managing the production.'' Unlike Damien, Anton bore no attempt to show his lack of interest in the conversation, as he slowly started making his way out of the dining room area of the palace. “Thank you Mr. President, you honour me!.” he nervously paused for few seconds before continuing “Mr. President, would you please consider having a meeting with me later this week.” “Whenever you have the time!” blurted out the nervous, and now slightly sweaty, man. “I’d be glad to have a meeting with you Damien. In fact I was planning on having one with you anyway, to discuss the goals and strategies of the commission going forward.” Anton again started walking a bit faster, trying to get out of the conversations with the hippo-like man. “How does tuesday 9:30 sound?” Damien struggled to keep up with the President, making him sweat even more profusely as he panted out a reply “Wonderful! Great! Thank you Mr.Presdi..Ray..” He stopped for a second to catch his breath “Thank you Mr. President!” he shouted down the hallway as the President hurried back into his office.
“Why do such social events seem to drain me more than dull meetings about infrastructure development?” joked Anton as he walked into his office to greet his wife. “It wasn’t that bad, I had quite the interesting conversation with Ciara and Erica.” Anton looked confused for a moment before Monica elaborated. “Gus’ wife. Erica Manger.” She sat down on the couch next to a half asleep Deana. “Ah! And what did she have to say?” inquired Anton, loosening his bowtie as he said it. “She was surprisingly supportive of our participation in politics, considering she’s from Anrica, like Gus.” Anton sat next to his wife, wrapping his arm around her before answering. “Well not everyone in Anrica is exactly Curtan Leste. You know he’s been losing a lot of support in the city ever since his stunt in Benfi, interrupting your speech like that.” Monica looked out the window to the view of capitol park. “Still, even with the waning influence of the old guard, both him and Gloria Tory have become increasingly popular with the conservatives now that Soll, Graff, Hawker and the like are all in prison. They are still a real threat, now with even more concentrated support.” Anton stood up and walked over to the window, now looking at dusk settling over the park as well. “I know.” he paused for a second. “We still have a lot of work ahead of us.”
The couple stood there for a few minutes in silence, enjoying a peaceful moment together while contemplating the future. After a while, however, they decided they best head home for the day. They went into the office bathroom to get changed again. After doing so, Anton took his sleeping daughter in his arms and the three of them exited the maroon palace. They had stayed there so long that all the journalists had gotten tired of waiting for them and gone home. The courtyard of the palace was all but empty, aside from a few guards, and of course, the Rayne family’s loyal driver. Serge opened the backseat door for the family to get in the car, where they were able to relax for the long drive home in the quiet of the night.
The new Valgslandian presidential car was slowly making its way towards the presidential residence built during the Alphonso presidency. It was a modern home, inspired by the works of some Arcasian architects. While Anton certainly disagreed with Alphonso about a lot, and despised Arcasia, he had to admit it was a pretty nice home. As he sat in the car he dreamt about getting home and being able to jump into bed after such a long day, and from the looks of it, Monica was thinking about the same thing.
They were driving past a newly built secondary school, Circas Secondary, that was built as part of Anton and Ciara’s education program during the first term. Anton’s mind drifted from the architecture of his own home to the architecture of this school, and was suddenly filled with pride, being able to see the material results of his work as president. He was admiring the building’s large gymnasium when suddenly the white walls of the pristine building turned a fiery orange hue, followed by a loud “BANG!”. Before they could comprehend what had happened the car had been flipped on its head and the glass from the windows shattered. Deana immediately woke up in panic and started crying. Anton was able to get to her quickly, and shield her and Monica. They sat there together in the wreck of the car for what felt like minutes, not being able to move out of pure shock, before they heard a series of coughs followed by the voice of their driver “Anton, Monica, Deana. Are you okay?!” Anton managed to muster a response despite his distress. “I think so Serge. How about you?”
As he felt a hand grab him by the collar of his coat, Serge replied “Don’t worry about me, we need to get out of here!” Before Anton could respond he felt his collar tighten around his neck as he was slowly dragged out of the car wreck along with his wife and daughter. When they were all out of the car Anton opened his eyes to find he was lying on the pavement, looking up at Serge who was examining the family for any serious injuries. He then heard the sound of sirens in the distance, and noticed the night looked very bright. He looked to his right and saw the cause of this brightness, the school was on fire. At least what was left of the school. There was rubble everywhere, it had been blown to pieces. He looked back up at Serge, with the starry night sky behind him. Hints of flashing red and blue lights began to appear as Anton’s eyes began to shut and the night became darker. The previously clear voice of his driver became muffled, as he heard cars approaching and the sound of doors being shut. Before passing out, he felt someone lift him up and put his body onto something soft, followed by the sound of doors being shut again.
To be continued.

for context, we’ve been close friends since I (23f) was 4 and my friend (24f) was 5 years old. After high school we drifted apart since we both moved away but it’s become like those friendships where you might spend months not talking to each other then once you meet up again you catch up and talk like you used to when you were kids. So i think we’re pretty good friends.
i’ve been trying to text her more and check up on her more frequently since i miss her, and her wedding is coming up soon so i know she must be stressed. Every time we talk she asks how i am, and i always say “good, okay, alright” and stuff like that but i haven’t been feeling well at all actually, so today when she asked i didn’t lie and said I’m not actually doing well. Now o kind of regret saying that because i don’t want to burden her with my issues and i don’t feel like we’re that close.
She asked me why, and wanted to know more, but i don’t know if should tell her.
Should i or should i just lie more?

for context, we’ve been close friends since I (23f) was 4 and my friend (24f) was 5 years old. After high school we drifted apart since we both moved away but it’s become like those friendships where you might spend months not talking to each other then once you meet up again you catch up and talk like you used to when you were kids. So i think we’re pretty good friends.
i’ve been trying to text her more and check up on her more frequently since i miss her, and her wedding is coming up soon so i know she must be stressed. Every time we talk she asks how i am, and i always say “good, okay, alright” and stuff like that but i haven’t been feeling well at all actually, so today when she asked i didn’t lie and said I’m not actually doing well. Now o kind of regret saying that because i don’t want to burden her with my issues and i don’t feel like we’re that close.
She asked me why, and wanted to know more, but i don’t know if should tell her.
Should i or should i just lie more?

Author's note
Thank you for waiting everyone! This one's a bit short but I'll ramp up my writing slowly in the coming next weeks. Need to warm up again hahaha. Cheers!
Previous Chapter:https://www.reddit.com/HFY/comments/yuffr8/they_never_lost_chapter_4_battle_of_achilles/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=android_app&utm_name=androidcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button
Earth
1132 Hours, Earth Time, EST
A large and spacious room with an oval table. Around it, in leather chairs, sat men with grim expressions on their faces.
These are the leaders of human civilization. And at the helm of the table sat a man who stared at the table while massaging his temples. He was well-dressed and well groomed. Yet, his eyes told another story. This man was tired, the bags under his eyes indicated that he had many sleepless nights.
"Secretary-General..." Someone from the other side of the table uttered.
"Our partial mobilization efforts have bore fruit. We have several new regiments on the front. We ramped up weapons production and secured a front line on the fringes of Sector 7 and Sector 6."
The Secretary-General slowly nodded and then raised his head, placing his hands on the table.
"What about Sector 5..." He asked.
"We are... We're working on it. As of now Sector 5 as a whole is a contested area."
The Secretary-General nodded once more.
"Alright... Minister Dawson, how is the public reacting to this series of events?"
A man at the side of the table stood up.
"We are trying to keep morale high. We are currently holding casualty reports out of the public eye. But it is a matter of time before they will demand us to release the reports." Minister Dawson said.
The Secretary-General looked around the table before gesturing the Minister to sit back down.
"We can't lie to the people... What they will demand is action... Minister Ibrahimovich, what are the casualty reports?"
"According to our best estimates 20,000. Though those figures might be higher."
"Minister Ibrahimovich those figures ARE higher. We were caught by surprise. Despite having information on a possible declaration of war... I expected at least some kind of incident, a casus belli. Not an abrupt invasion without a single reason given."
The Secretary-General looked around the table once more before continuing.
"We are not dealing with a border skirmish ladies and gentlemen. We are in a state of war. And the very existence of the Terran Federation and all of its constituent territories is at risk. We have the support of the intergalactic community, yes. But it is up to us to hold and resist until the Galactic House votes on how to react... And that might take a month, maybe more."
Silence befell the room as the reality of the situation slowly started to be apparent to everyone present.
"Sir, what is it you want us to do?"
One voice asked somewhere from the table. A slight tremble with a hint of uncertainty.
"Total mobilization of all of our military assets from every corner of the Terran Federation. Secure all the trade lanes and supply routes. Put all intelligence operatives within and outside our territory on high alert and utilize every resource available to gauge the military organization and capability of the Phryndians."
The Secretary-General said. Murmurs and whispers erupted in the room, this was unprecedented.
Meanwhile, the Secretary-General slid his hand through his graying hair and cleared his throat.
"I am announcing an emergency broadcast. Connect me to all available stations."
Within moments all voices and mutters fell silent. A large holographic screen appeared before the Secretary-General.
He was silent for a few seconds as he stared at a mirror image of himself... This was not the way he wanted to present himself to the public. But he had no other choice.
"This is Christopher Allen, Secretary-General of the Terran Federation broadcasting from Earth... As you are well aware there had been a string of incidents on the border with the Phryndian Empire... Those incidents were not mistakes, they were not accidents. They were a delibrate act of aggression against the Terran Federation from the Phryndian Empire. These acts are unlawful, they are illegal... All attempts at diplomacy have failed. And from this moment on, officially, we are in a state of war with the Phryndian Empire."
There was a slight pause. The Secretary-General closed his eyes for a moment, before opening them up again.
"From this moment on... We are instituting total mobilization of all military assets. We are going to do everything in our power to defend our freedom against tyranny. Defeat is not an option."
"Do not fret, do not worry. For mankind has gone through worse. We have prevailed and we shall prevail once more."
"We will remind our foes once more how humans wage war"
Phryndian Homeworld
108 Hours after Achilles Station
The underground sewers of the Phryndian capital. Abandoned centuries ago, these veritable catacombs became home to outcasts and vagabonds. In these tunnels, since the ascension of the new Emperor, a new type of inhabitant called this place home.
The Freedom Fighter. The Revolutionary.
General Chryfder sat back in an old and decrepit chair as he listened to the briefing of what these young Phryndians knew.
He would once call them terrorists, criminals. Those who went against the crown went against everything Phryndia stood for. But now instead of rounding them up and sending them to the deepst pits. They were his only ticket to freedom.
They were the only ticket that provided any semblance of hope against the Emperor's tyranny.
"From what we've been able to gather the Emperor Mab Pletyn's actions are not his own. He is merely a puppet in someone else's game. There are rumours that advisor Dibynadwy is somehow connected. We ha-" the red-scales Phryndian, dressed in an old military uniform wasn't able to finish his sentence before General Chryfder interrupted.
"It is not Dibynadwy, I am sure of that. That man is too incompetent to do his own work let alone to do any shady dealings behind anyone's back. Let alone Imperial Intelligence." Chryfder remarked.
"That... That's true but the best he can do in that case is shut up if there is something happening. If he knows something a simple threat or bribe is enough to shut him up."
Chryfder thought for a few moments, scratching the scales on the back of his head.
"You might be right... If we can't be sure or even trust the very men who were tasked with such a responsibility as to protect this country and advise the Emperor... Then who can we trust? Other than the few members of military who aren't scared of the consequences? What say you, Rhyddid?"
The red-scales Phryndian, Rhyddid, answered without hesitation.
"There is only one thing we can do then. The only other group with which we share a common enemy, which we can only hope won't stab us in the back is... Well, humans."
As soon as Rhyddid said that a voice from the group shouted:
"Humans?! Do you really think that they will cooperate with any Phryndian after all of this? They will see us with great suspicion and in the worst case kill us! No species with a modicum of intelligence is dumb enough to trust let alone cooperate with an enemy race, even if they share common goals!"
Another voice joined in soon thereafter:
"Yeah! And how can we even start cooperating? How can we even get into contact with the humans?! That plan is a joke."
After the crowd vented out their frustrations and calmed down. Chryfder stood up from his chair and cleared his throat.
"Gentlemen, I am afraid that Rhyddid is right." He paused, awaiting backlash, but none came.
"I sympathize with your worries. The humans can't trust any of us. We are at war with the Terran Federation, but you fail ti understand one thing about the humans..." He turned and looked at everyone present.
"The humans have a much more flexible way of working with others. As long as you are of use, no matter your race or species, and can of course be trusted, you will have a great ally... I do not mean to brag when I tell you this, but without me you probably wouldn't stand a chance of getting the humans on your side. Like all of you said, no intelligent being is insane enough to cooperate with an enemy. But right here they have the greatest inside network they could've ever hoped for. And as for me, I worked with the humans. I have fought with them, I am well known among them and I have a good enough reputation. So the chances that they will accept us is much higher."
There was murmuring in the crowd, whispers. The group was split on what to do. Someone from the group then spoke up.
"That is all well and good General... But where in the nine hells are we going to find a human here? Or even get into contact with a human? All incoming and outgoing transmissions are monitored."
Chryfder smiled and let out a small chuckle before replying:
"Well, young one, that is very simple. We will not come to them, they will come to us... And it is worth mentioning that there are humans here... They are near, especially now."
"It is only a matter of time..."
Earth
Veterans Memorial, Hamburg
1524 Hours CET
"... and to the brave men who stood their ground til' the bitter end. Sergeant Trevor McCawley, Officer Sota Hayashi and the last man standing, Private Lawrence Schmidt. These are the names that will forever be remember for their bravery."
These were the words spoken by the Chief of the Military a few days after Achilles Station. Within the crowd that listened on that sunny Hamburg day was a man dressed formally, yet comfortably. Slowly smoking a cigarette as he listened to the speech.
"It's weird isn't it?" Someone beside the man said. "To see history unfold right before your very eyes."
The man took one last drag of the cigarette and extinguished it on the floor, before retrieving a small box and putting the cigarette bud inside.
"Indeed it is, not the first time for me though. You kinda get used to it after a while." The man dressed in black said.
"You military? Special forces?" The man beside him asked. The man dressed in black looked at him.
"Something like that..." He said before turning around and leaving. Weaving through the crowd and going back on the main street. He walked down the street, it was well decorated with trees lining each side. A nice stroll in the shade sat well after a depressing speech.
He sat on a bench, looking out to the park across the street where children played. While their parents chatted. He smiled.
He got a pack of cigarettes out and put one in his mouth, but before he could light it up he heard a ring in his ear.
"Ahh, Jesus, what now." He said with exasperation.
He pressed something behind his ear and a holographic screen appeared before him. It was not visible to anyone but himself.
"Yeah chief, I'm on vacation, you know that?"
"Agent Walter Meyer, your vacation is over. You heard the orders of the Secretary-General." The hidden face and deep voice from the other side said.
"All agents on high alert, yes that is clear." Walter replied. "Any updates on my mission?"
"No, your mission is cancelled. You have been given a very special mission agent Meyer, we believe you are the only one available who is up to the task..."
"And what kind of task would that be?" Walter asked.
"You are going to be smuggled through one of the few lanes that are still open, by that I mean we have utilized a few connections on the other side of the law. Your mission is to conduct espionage and find out what you can about the Royal family as well as attempt sabotage if possible..."
Walter sighed "Alright, not something I'm unfamiliar with. I assume I am going to the Phryndian frontier... Wait, Royal family? Where am I going exactly?"
"Byd Cartref, the Phryndian homeworld. Your ride is waiting for you outside of Hamburg. Be there at 16:30 sharp. I'll send you the coordinates. Good luck soldier."
"Looks like there's no vacation for me...“
Next Chapter:

I am currently writing a novel that will feature some Inuit characters and wanted to ask what I should watch out for / keep in mind when writing them. Be it mannerisms, idioms, I welcome insights on any aspect of Inuit culture of any specific Inuit subgroup.
For some context and why I did not specify where specifically the reoccurring Inuit characters would come from:
My novel is set in a rather dark take on the late 22nd century and primarily focuses on humans who were genetically engineered over a century prior in the 2070s. They live in the far north of Canada and serve as the reader's pov to look at the wider world while not being the focal point themselves.
Right next to these mutants lies the Reservation Of Nunavut, which is not the same as today's Nunavut. Basically, what happened in this setting is that the Western democracies fell into dictatorship during the late 21st century. Due to racism and concerns over their loyalty (but mostly racism), pretty much all Inuit were deported to Nunavut. Then around 2100, a world government rose to power and massively reorganized the planet, introducing "Reservations" as fully autonomous municipalities governing areas the world government deemed "ethnically homogenous" (yes, that means there are White people reservations too). So the Inuit were just left in Nunavut.
The Nunavut Reservation of this time shares most of the borders of real life Nunavut, minus the Kivalliq region south of Qamani'tuaq as well as the islands of Appatuurjuaq, Shugliaq, Tuijaat, Pujjunaq and Akulliq. The Mutants live on Shugliaq and in an autonomous community within Nunavut on the coast between Ukkusiksalik National Park and Qatiktalik. The reason for this weird arrangement is because there are two distinct groups of mutants, one if which was raised in part by Inuit educators. They often have Inuit names, many speak Inuit languages and so the world government thought they should be part of Nunavut, but culturally they are NOT Inuit and the government of Nunavut knew it. Hence the autonomous municipality within an autonomous municipality.
So that's why there have to be Inuit characters in my series. Unfortunately, I only found this sub now. Oh well, better late than never.

About 3 weeks ago I allowed a friend to move into my spare bedroom because her and her boyfriend were going through a breakup. I wasn’t sure whether they would get back together after taking “space” and move back in with him, so I told her she can live rent free this month and she can start paying me next month if she wants the arrangement to become more permanent.
I recently found out she has been stealing my medication and other belongings and have been caught her in multiple lies since then. A mutual friend had a similar suspicion as they are also missing medication after she was recently in their house. I demanded she leave immediately, took the keys and have been piling her stuff in the living room. I am also planning on changing the locks.
Am I in danger of being sued for wrongful eviction? Me and my mother are the owners of the house and I live here full time. She has not paid any rent and there is no lease agreement (other than a verbal yes you can move in for x amount per month if things don’t work out with the ex). She’s getting the rest of her stuff today but I’m concerned about whether she’s considered a “tenant”, or if it matters that she’s leaving on her own accord after I asked her to do so. I’m in MI if that makes a difference.

1
We underestimate the trials the dead have gone through.
This obvious mistake leads to avoidable missteps in life. It is still all too common.
When my Grandfather passed away, I inherited a house in the mountains. The view was breathtaking. It had a sweeping vista of infinite pine trees. The place was nowhere near as large as the properties surrounding it.
It was a summer home for him and my Grandma. The interior of it contained many of his items. This included tobacco pipes, cabinets of obscure teas, and cupboards of whiskey bottles.
One Saturday evening I went through the attic and found a dozen stacks of boxes. The majority of them remained unlabeled. Several contained pulp paperbacks and stacks of old photos. Towards the end of his life, he gave up his old pastimes of hunting and fishing. He stayed at home and watched old game shows instead.
I tried to clean the roof space in one day. I found myself unable to complete it before tiring and going to bed.
The next morning I resumed the activity. It was no longer about trying to declutter the area and fill it with my own possessions. It was now a way to learn more about the man.
All I knew about his reputation was how he had served in World War II. My family told me how he was as short on words as he was on patience.
I found an old newspaper article, dated 1983. There were other period pieces around it. The topics varied. This included the US invasion of Grenada and the debut of Cabbage Patch Kids dolls. A device known as the mobile phone received a mention.
Yet what caught my attention was the first piece. I brushed aside cobwebs to find it buried underneath a pile of cardboard with burnt edges.
The picture was of my Grandfather, Roy Davies. He held a check for fifty thousand dollars. This was an amount I later found out equaled to one hundred and fifty two thousand in today’s money. The mystery of how he could afford the place he gave me was no longer one worth pondering.
The wall behind him had an illustration of a ramshackle house on a hill. The title of the write-up was NORTHERN CALIFORNIA MAN WINS IN THE PILOT FOR NEW SHOW ‘THE TRIANGLE GAME.’
I read the five hundred word account. It detailed how he flew to Los Angeles to be a participant in an allegedly syndicated program. There were two other people he competed against. The editorial feature did not go into detail about what the goal of the game was. How to win or get disqualified was unknown to me. Still Still, my Grandfather walked out a much richer man before he flew back home.
It did mention the couple he played against, a man called James Grover and a woman named Daisy Francis.
I flipped the article. I found were words written in orange ink with a marker on the back, CC ENVELOPE EXIT.
I searched online for the triangle game. I found variations on the pastime ‘I Spy’ first. Players would spot triangular items in their immediate vicinity. I discovered a few board games, along with IQ-related quizzes.
No information was available about a television broadcast.
2
It took almost a month of research to find where James Grover lived.
I managed to find his house by paying for a background checking website. He had gotten a criminal charge for running a red light in front of a cop. Otherwise his record was clean. That single infraction allowed me to find him since it put him in that specific database.
I stood outside his red brick house in a suburb. It was a Wednesday afternoon in a neighborhood located in an upscale part of Illinois.
Frost caked the lawns near the heated sidewalk I stood on. I imagined the place to be serene in the summertime, even if it was a vacant-seeming region now.
A stretch of abodes stood before me without their lights on. Nervousness coursed through me. The idea of having traveled all this way for the information to be wrong made me anxious.
I walked along the concrete pathway towards his front door. I stepped on a creaky porch. I set aside my awareness of the likely pending disappointment and knocked.
A shuffling of feet was on the other side of the entrance. as well as A remote control clicked as the volume of a television blaring a news report got turned down.
He answered. The man fit the correct age range I calculated he would fall into. He wore a flannel jacket and slacks, He had on a blue pair of slippers. His gray mustache bristled as he saw me.
“James Grover?” I asked.
“If you’re trying to sell me something I’m not interested.”
“I’m very sorry to bother you sir, and I promise I won’t take up much of your time. I’m here to ask if you would be willing to let me ask you a few questions about something you might know about. See, I make documentaries for a living, and I have concluded that you might be able to help me.”
I could not take a good photograph when asked, but it was a stringent falsehood I conveyed well in the moment.
In reality, I was a podcaster. The term documentarian, though not as modern, seemed more legitimate. Especially to an older gentleman.
“Alright,” he said after a moment’s hesitation. “What are you making a movie on? Also, where’s your film crew?”
“I gleaned that you were the type to prefer remaining anonymous. The conversation‘s recorded. This will be with your consent, of course. The subject I want to discuss with you involves the triangle game.”
Grover took a few steps away from the threshold and broke eye contact with me as his lips pursed. His eyes wandered over to the corner of his living room, and he brought his gaze back to mine.
“Why do you want to know about that?”
“Because I can’t find anything about it anywhere,” I said. “I’ve even been to the National Archives of Game Show history in search of it. It’s as though it never existed. I know it did because I found this article.”
As I brandished the piece of writing to him, his eyes bulged as he focused and scanned the text.
“Ahh,” he said as he took in a deep inhalation, “I remember that man. Tell you what, come on in. Would you like some coffee?”
I took a seat in one of his recliners as I asked him a few generic questions about his life.
James spent a considerable time of his youth in North Lawndale, one of the rougher places in Chicago. He escaped his impoverished upbringing by pursuing a career as an inventory clerk. He worked his way up to management in a warehousing company.
“I beat the odds in a big way,” he said as he folded his hands and sat across from me.
“So, what can you tell me about your experience on set that day? Do you know about anything that happened post-production?”
“They made us sign contracts where we would promise not to talk about what we went through with anyone. Still, I’m at the point where I’m not very worried, or I don’t think I should be. I was much younger then, about your age. I lived at the boxing gym and had dreams of going pro. Of course that didn’t happen, but when I wasn’t training I was drinking and doing stupid things that young men do. Bar brawls I didn’t deserve to get away with but somehow did. My mother watched a lot of game shows. Without my knowledge, she submitted my name for consideration to become a contestant. She thought it would make me a better person if I had some kind of hope for helping the family. One besides crushing peoples noses for a living.”
“How did she hear about it?”
“I have no idea. I wish I asked her.”
“How did you find out you were going to go on?”
“Back then, everything was a phone call, so that’s what we got. They flew me out there, I took a taxi to get to the set. It was not a traditional studio. The place was closer to a factory with a fake space ship built inside of it. In the center of the room was a neon triangle with the same spaciousness of a house.”
“How was the game played?”
“Before it started, they told us to write down three things we were good at. I put boxing, organizational skills, and running. Daisy listed hers as poker, math, and long distance swimming. Roy - that was his name, the person in the picture you showed me - put outdoor survival, shooting, and cooking. We would stand at each point of the triangle. We’d get asked a question by the host, and we had three minutes to answer it. If we got it right, they gave us a reward being able to attack one of the other two people using the skill sets we put down. The goal is to make the other two quit by getting enough questions correct. Of course, we went into the game blind to the rule set. Otherwise I may have chosen the most aggressive ability imaginable. Roy won because he chose aptitude with a firearm, which trumps any martial art, whether I like it or not.”
James lifted his pant leg and showed me a scar above his knee.
“At least he was kind enough to not make it a fatal blow,” he said.
I showed him the words written on the back of the newspaper clipping. He shrugged and told me he was unaware, dismissive of it as someone’s scrapped note.
I asked him if he remembered the name of the host or could give me a physical description.
“I don’t remember anything about what we called him, if he even told us what he went by. His hair was black and a pompadour style. He wore a purple suit with a bright orange tie.”
“Two last questions,” I said. “Do you know what happened to Daisy, if she’s still alive? Also, do you recall the address of the place where they filmed the game?”
“I wrote to Daisy twice a year before she vanished. We did have one conversation over the phone, and she told me that bad luck was going to follow the losers of that pilot. There was no media coverage about her passing that I ever saw. As far as the location, sure. I wrote it down in a journal I kept with me even when I traveled. I used to keep track of my workouts and diet regiment back then. Let me grab it.”
3
The location where the Triangle Game took place four decades earlier stood in a squalid part of the city.
I passed the ruins of the old LA zoo on my way to the spot. I contemplated how the sight I was about to take in could not get any stranger. I was wrong.
The building was five stories, but the front only had a trio of stained glass windows. Bullet holes surrounded the casements. The place had a nave roof and flying buttresses on both sides. Multi-colored graffiti littered the outside.
It sat in a neighborhood filled with homeless people who slept on benches.
I went there mid-afternoon. I approached the front and found two locked doors. I scaled around back. I stepped over heaps of trash in the process, and saw an opening in the form of a hole large enough to crawl into.
A surge of adrenaline hit me me as I belly crawled through. I was taking a bet on how there were no cameras, guards or residents who would make a scene out of my trespassing.
It is amazing the rules one will bend for the sake of new content on social media, I opined as I made way into the space.
I turned on the flashlight of my phone and saw nothing but an enormous dusty chamber made of concrete.
I moved into the next room. A hoarders lifetime supply of broken antiques sat. Spray painted devil-horned faces grinned from the ceiling.
What caught my attention the most was a camera’s tripod. It stood alone in the far left corner.
I approached it to get a better look. I kicked aside a bunch of cans. As they clattered away, I looked down and saw a pointed tip of something drawn on the ground.
I removed most of the trash by shoving the majority of it aside and saw what was underneath.
The large triangle, which took up most of the flooring in the chamber, was still there after all these years.
In the center of it was a thin line of blood. I crouched down and peered at it.
The fluid was still wet, and a horrid stench met me. I gagged and recoiled, and in my backing away, my shoulder bumped against a dusty and discarded shelf.
Gunfire rang out.
I did not know if it was outside or near me, but I did not wish to find out. I exited the way I came in with a relentless sprint and drove as far away as I could.
4
A year later, I was finally wrapping up my recording of the podcast. I titled it ‘Three Ways to Die.’
While the name of the series was quite sensational, I felt the story merited a bit of clickbait. I had no followers and was unsure of how it would perform.
I reasoned that giving the story any publicity I could would help me find the lost piece of media. Even if it was on the cutting room floor of that very space I had to leave.
I went to call Grover, to try and collect an email address so I could send him the pre-uploaded production.
A woman answered.
“You’re looking for my father. He lost his life six months ago. Someone killed him. I would appreciate it if you got rid of this number.”
She ended the call less than a second after the last word. She wrote me off as an insurance agent looking to take advantage of a grieving family member.
I paced around my room. Although I did not know him well, I had come to like him, and his gruesome end was not one he deserved. I researched crime news to find out what had happened to him, to no avail.
The newspaper piece I had collected that fateful day sat at the edge of my desk.
I lifted it towards me and flipped it over again. I stared at the words — CC ENVELOPE EXIT.
The sentence was nonsensical. I had applied my own meanings to the gibberish phrase. Like it was a cryptic and silly way of saying ‘outgoing mail.’
I do not know whether it was desperation, a creative inclination or an admixture of both. I decided to run it through an anagram generator I had searched for on the web.
It came up with many phrases, some of them surreal, but the one that popped out to me was EXPECT VIOLENCE.
My stomach turned as I realized how my own personal investigation yielded nothing. I opened the window and was soon exposed to some fresh Sierra air, which was therapeutic but not curative.
I decided to take a long walk. I had been sedentary over the last week due to intensive editing. I figured a jaunt would help me smooth a few psychological knots things out.
I slid my closet door open to try and find a pair of sweat pants.
The sound of thunder reverberated outside. I stared out to find the sky had become overcast.
The closet door creaked even louder than I could remember it having been before.
Orange ties hung on the rack, and a triangle painted a pastel green was visible behind it.