I'm so stressed and angry right now, everything has been a huge mess. My family has always been struggling financially since my mom has been the bread winner alone, as my dad doesn't speak English at all (my mom's English skill is about the typical immigrant level). My dad worked as a food delivery guy previously and often got held at gunpoint, robbed, and even had his car stolen 2-3 times. Which basically cancels out almost all the money he has earned. Just maybe 3 years ago, my dad's sister (who has experience of starting up 3+ restaurants before) suggested starting a business along with her nephew (my cousin). Compared to what my dad had to do before, this was obviously such a wonderful opportunity. So they ended up starting this business which I'll just call FoodPlace, where my aunt currently lives (~4 hours away by plane). It was split 40-40-20 (aunt-cousin-dad) for the shares. FoodPlace was such a success they won a local award, and had several news articles written about it.
Which sounds like things are working out, except the whole internal part is a mess. They all worked within the kitchen along with the other staffs, but my aunt and her husband deliberately gave my dad harder physical work because they were in charge of the "managing work". They keep him out of conversations too, although my dad does struggle with his cognition and conversing, I don't think they should've done that as he was a shareholder too. Eventually my cousin pulled out and sold his share according to the current value of the business. My family suggested to my dad to not buy half of that because we could already see that our cousin left because he could feel my aunt and her husband brewing trouble. But my dad, who's never really had the opportunity to provide for his family took the risk because this was the one time he actually was able to earn money, and even more than my mom. We were finally having money. He even ends up buying a house all the way over there, which we are still currently paying off.
But everything started spiraling down after my cousin left because at least he was also holding some power so my aunt and her husband couldn't really make too much trouble. Because now they have 60%, and my dad 40%, they're considered the owners and such. Their daughter embezzled money a bit here and there through usage of the business' credit card for personal matter. They started picking fights with my dad during restaurant hours. Complaining all he does is sit around but he hurt his back with the hard labor they gave him, and he was just sitting because the food prep at that time doesn't require him to be standing. When holidays rolled around, they wouldn't let him take days off to come home to visit us saying they are very busy. But they close the restaurant as they wish to go on vacations themselves. At some point they even had the audacity to ask my dad for the contract paper and thankfully no matter how much he struggled cognitively, he didn't give it to them, because that was his only proof of his share. They got so pissed after that. Fights escalated and we finally found out why. They were trying to kick my dad out, they had open another restaurant down the road. Exact same name and concept, just with a 2 slapped on it. So FoodPlace 2... without even notifying my dad of such and they are already mid negotiating the sale of the current business with the new owner. Basically the restaurant got so successful they wanted it all for themselves.
Fast forward to recently, just a few months ago. THEY SOLD THE RESTAURANT. Without my dad's signature. It was sold for 700k and they tried to do it without letting my dad find out, even had my dad teach the new owner all the recipes. When we found out we were furious and said we took part in this restaurant too. We invested our money, sweat, and blood into this restaurant too. My mom even helped out at the restaurant every time she went to visit my dad, without expecting or receiving any pay. We tried to demand our 40% cut of it as per contract, but they denied us saying they helped us and that that should be good enough. We said that's not right and demanded just our original investment back, even though she paid my cousin the percentage base off of their current value. She gave us a small check and said take this money. My dad did not accept it, but they ended up slipping it between the accounting stuff they handed to my dad which we found out only a few weeks later. Then they go around telling our family members (my dad's side of the family) about how we earned hundred of thousands (which we did not) and that we're being greedy for asking for money from the sale. And how they starting having marital disputes and their family is falling apart just because we are asking for the money that belongs to us, which they earned from the sale that they did without our consent. With this huge mess, and my parents already stressed enough, they figured they'll just cash the small check which was only about a tenth of our investment cause they said how about they pay us bit by bit. But we knew she was cunning and was trying to trick us, but we figured alright we'll trust her. The check bounced... Eventually we ended up having to get a lawyer involved because it was a huge sum of money that we put in and we just wanted our original investment back as we were still paying our cousin back every month for the half of his share which we bought. They went berserk and started yelling at us and crying to their parents about how the money belongs to them. As this was our first time dealing with lawyers, we thought we could just trust the process to them. But we basically ended up paying $4,500 just for them to send a single letter to my aunt saying we want to settle privately. As for why we are not taking this to court? My dad is naïve and holds family really close, he trusted his sister still after everything just up until this month when he found out all the lies she's been telling everyone. All my years of being alive, this was the first time I saw my dad cried. Not just once, almost every time now after he calls with his family. His mom doesn't care about him, tells him to just let it be. His brother acts kind says he'll help be a middle man in front of us, but then when he thought it was just the two of them scolded my dad and told him he handles everything on his own why is my dad unable to do it? Then proceeds to tell my dad alone that he will not be helping. Meanwhile we were put in a standstill because our lawyer told us my dad can't say anything or do anything because anything and everything can be evidence. Meanwhile, my aunt cleaned up their mess and said they retract the sale and now they're just selling it for $300k. We don't even know if anything is going on under the table, as they never gave my dad any power (as in he did not even have access to the card under the business even though she gave it to her daughter, and etc). Now they are trying to wiggle their way out by saying they'll negotiate with my dad if we cancel the thing with our lawyers??? If they didn't do anything illegal, there should be nothing for them to be afraid of. Obviously if we take it to court and had evidence of their dealings, we would definitely win. Although we have some, we don't have sufficient evidence and the cost and time it would take is not worth it for my parent's mental and physical health. Plus we were just trying to settle, we gave up on getting the percentage off current value long ago because this has been going on for months and my family is all stressed out from it. We just want our original investment back but they still want to keep going in circles. They also have the money and time to keep doing this but we don't. We barely had any to begin with, we took out loans and borrowed money to invest in this business. Why are they like this? They own multiple properties, even have rental properties and already own their big house in a nice neighborhood. It's not like we are asking for an unreasonable amount, just our original back now. They even kept trying to get my dad to travel back and forth to negotiate because their parents also currently lives where my family lives. Recently I was finally able to visit my dad to help sell the house and gosh the house was big and beautiful, we finally had our own home. I started breaking down because I just thought about how much he went through to finally buy us a house and how he must've been so lonely and enduring so much living here all alone with his cognitive impairment and not knowing English at all. And now we are getting ready to sell the house so that he can move back in with us back where we currently live and be a whole family again. I'm so stressed that I've been thrown into all this legal stuff because I have to help out as my parents have limited English unlike my aunt and her husband, and having to suddenly be an adult because my parents are already carrying so much responsibilities right now. At the same time I'm so angry for how manipulative my aunt, not really of their family just because I know they never really cared for my dad as he wasn't a very bright son/brother of theirs, but it's still absolute crap. I don't even know what to do now except that I have to work harder to find a job so that I can share the burden and not have it all lay on my parents especially my mom who almost basically raised us as a single mom and took care of us very well to make up for both parent roles and give us a good upbringing. There's already so much other personal matter going on and having this on top, I feel like my head is about to pop TT It's all too stressful
TLDR; My dad owns a restaurant business with my aunt (40-60 respectively). They opened a new restaurant with same name, just a 2 slapped on it and pick fights with my dad on purpose to kick him out. My aunt then sells the restaurant without consent of my dad for $700k. We want our rightful money back. They scream and throw tantrum. We want our original investment back. They manipulate and lie to everyone around them saying we don't deserve it, she loves her brother, she's offered so much help to my dad. We get lawyer involved, they retract their sale and now say it's sold for $300k. We have no evidence because my dad who was alone in this far away place alone to start this business with my aunt is cognitively impaired and trusted his sister. Still won't even give us our initial investment back.
TTLDR; My aunt is trying to scam my family, I'm stressed.

I am 27 m, and recently my mental state has deteriorated to the point of crippling my ability to do anything. I have been suicidal for years now, and depressed for as long as I can remember. One of my first memories is telling my mom I wish I was someone else at the ripe old age of 4. That all being said, up until this point I had been relatively functional. That all somewhat changed when the introduction of hallucinogenic came into my life. In 2019, a plethora of psychonaut friends of mine told me the benefits of doing lsd and mushrooms, how it would open my third eye or whatever and make me a better person. For a time I believe that it did, until it didn't. I became super paranoid, with delusions of having done something that I hadn't, of hyperfocusing on everything. I have ADHD, and I believe it made all my symptoms a thousand times worse. I get emotionally attached to people I shouldn't. I became hyper aware of every problem and addiction I had. I have a porn addiction, as well as erotic role-playing on various MMOs (sad I know). I am now simultaneously filled with profound self loathing about all this, without having the willpower to get over it. I spend every day yoyoing between manic self improvement moods and laying on the ground crying. My mind is super restless, and nothing can help. The worst thing currently going on is thati have become attached to this online friend that I rp with. She is super fun, but clearly only sees me as a casual online pal that we occasionally do spicy rp with, but I can't stop thinking about her. I know I shouldn't, that these thoughts are irrational, but I fins myself in these maladaptive delusions of our lives together. These fantasies are followed by a huge wave of self disgust, as I know I'm being a sad sack of shit living in la la land. If this has read like a fever dream, it is because that is the state of my mind rn. On paper I should be on top of the world. I'm tall, I exercise, I'm a little on the thicker side but I've dropped 30 pounds and counting. I am going to college off of the GI bill, and am acing all my classes so far. That doesn't stop the crippling pit in my stomach, the feeling that I am gross, that I deserve nothing and no one, despite wanting so deeply for someone to be intimate with. I have a lot of childhood trauma that I won't go into, but it makes irl communication with women very difficult for me, as I either wall myself off or become attached, as I have done with online friend mentioned above. I can't even type this out in a structured manner, despite me writing fiction online on a daily basis. My mind is a ruin, and nothing will help me. I talked to a VA therapist 2 days ago, and i couldn't bring myself to tell the truth. He asked me if I had suicidal thoughts and I lied through my teeth. I wish for death so badly, bur everyone sees me as this rock to look up to. I'm so tired yall, I just want to be normal, to be confident, to not fall in love with the first person to show me the slightest bit of kindness. I want to stop watching porn, to feel wanted by someone, to not feel disgusting, to have my own dreams, instead of succumbing to what I think others would approve of me doing. I want to be a singer, a poet, a martial artist, but no, I am in school for electrical engineering. I can't see myself making it out of the year at this rate. 27 club here I come.

I would really appreciate some help here. I’m at a loss on what to do. Apologies for the really long post, TLDR below.
TLDR; I’m considering ending a relationship of 1.5 years with my girlfriend after her roommate and I got into several fights this past weekend over moving a couch into their apartment. Her roommate prohibited me from stepping foot inside ever again, threatened to call the cops on me, threatened to lawyer up, and accused me of aggravating her. She might have also punctured one of my car’s tires as it was flat the following day in their parking lot. My girlfriend has continuously said she understands the situation and will be coming to my place going forward, but I’m afraid of what might happen in the future since she shares her location with her roommate, have been friends for 17 years, have a matching tattoo together, and the roommate has shown to be a very explosive and volatile person. Her roommate has also been convicted in the past for assault and I’m afraid of what she might do. I feel like I don’t fully know my girlfriend and don’t know how to move forward. Should I leave the relationship or continue to fight?
A bit of a background
My girlfriend, let’s call her Ana, and I have been together for 1.5 years. We met through a cousin of mine at an outing back in December 2021 and started dating right away. Ana is caring, loyal, and has always listened to what I have to say. Our relationship has gone through some challenges, but nothing we have not talked through and somewhat agreed on - we see life differently to some extent when it comes to matters like politics and religion but have always sat down to talk through and resolve those issues. My parents did not get a good impression of Ana when I introduced them to each other, but she has worked hard to do so ever since. When we met I also asked her to go back to school to keep pursuing her degree, which she had stopped years ago, but listened to me and is currently on her second semester. It is important to note that Ana (and Betty, shortly introduced) was in a religion for 22 years that prohibited her from making friends outside of it. She left 5 years ago and had to cut all communication with her family.
While together, in June last year, I bought an apartment and moved about 1.5 hours north of her to be closer to my job. Ever since that happened we have had this sort of long distance relationship where we only see each other on the weekends - every other weekend Ana comes to visit me, staying overnight, while I do the same the weekends she does not.
Ana was living in an apartment by herself up until two months ago, when her lease was over and the landlord increased her rent by 30% or so. She had to go somewhere and asked if we could live together, to which I declined as I did not think we were ready - moving in together has been something I’ve refused to do because of a very sour experience with an ex-girlfriend. Since that was not an option, Ana decided to move into a new apartment with one of her best friends, Betty, who I barely knew. They decided to move about 30 minutes closer to me. Betty promised Ana she would take care of her, to some extent, by paying more than half of the rent and covering the security deposit. Ana does not make much money and has racked up some credit card debt which she is managing now, so the arrangement made her financially happy. It’s sort of important to note, however, that with the new arrangement Ana is paying about the same monthly rent. I helped her move out and into the new place with two other friends.
Betty and Ana have known each other for 17 or so years. They have traveled together and even during our relationship Ana, during the weekdays, has visited Betty overnight to watch movies and whatnot, without me there. At the start of our relationship Ana refused presenting me to Betty several times despite my insistence, because Betty had had serious fallouts with two of Ana’s friends and she was afraid I might not like her. Before meeting Betty I had a sense I would not like her when I noticed that Ana, when Betty texted, was afraid of not replying right away, which I thought was odd. I confronted her but she always ignored what I was saying. Other friends of Ana’s had also noticed the same. I ended up meeting Betty six months or so after Ana and I started dating, which was right after Betty’s ex broke up with her after almost five years of a verbal- and physically abusive relationship. Betty, I recently found out, has even been to jail before due to explosive episodes that have ended in physical aggression, and is currently trying to expunge her records. She was also adopted as a kid and her adoptive father has beat her for years in different occasions. Betty and I only hung out then, when we met for the first time, and one other time two months after, for her birthday. I never had any sort of altercation with her, but noticed she always had some fight with someone, always talking down on people and blaming others for her tragedies. Something that took me by surprise last year was when my girlfriend and Betty went one day to a tattoo parlor and got the same exact tattoo in the forearm as a sign of their friendship. Up until then my girlfriend only had two other tattoos that were very small - one by her ankle and another one by her ribcage. This one that she got with Betty is the only truly visible one. That day I remember being extremely surprised when she showed it to me, seeing how she had not even mentioned she was going to get a tattoo, but comes home with the biggest one she has had, and on the forearm.
Fast forward to Saturday: Betty and I lose it with each other
Moving forward to last weekend, I visited Ana at her apartment for only the second time in the last two months after she moved in. I drove over Saturday early in the morning and was greeted by my girlfriend making breakfast for me and her roommate. We all ate and Betty asked to spend the day with us, since she needed to go to the library to study for an exam, which my girlfriend and I had planned on doing, so that she could study for one of her classes. They also made me aware of a couch one of Betty’s friends was giving her for free, and Betty asked for my help to pick it up later. The day went well at the library (4 or so hours) but started to shift when we went out for late lunch after - Betty asked for spicy wings at a local bar and threw a fit when the wings came with not sauce, calling the manager of the place and insulting the cooks and staff. After that ordeal we went to UHAUL to rent a truck for the couch. Like idiots, we ended up breaking what we thought was the ignition key (it wasn’t, just an attached key for the back doors) inside the car’s key hole. This sent Betty screaming and insulting me, out of the blue, calling me an idiot and other words I cannot recall. I yelled back at her which only escalated the situation. UHAUL management stepped in and they got us a pickup truck at no additional cost. We live in a big city in South Florida. I drove with Ana in the middle seat and Betty on the passenger side for about 40 minutes to pick up the couch. It is 10PM on the dot when we get to the community where Betty’s friend lives. A security guard, as I parked the truck, approached us to say the HOA does not allow trucks at that time. Betty starts insulting him several times as I drive away and parked about half a block from the community, at a plaza right next to it. We proceeded, for the next two hours, to carry out the couch from a second floor to the first, moving it over a 5 feet wall (with me jumping over) to avoid going around the community, then walking with it for half a block and than putting it on the bed of the pickup truck. All in 90 degree humid weather.
As I am sweating and huffing while fastening the couch on the bed of the truck by myself, with Betty and Ana talking by the side of the truck, I notice Betty looks tired and miserable, to which I asked jokingly “why the long face?”. Betty proceeds to tell me I am not being funny with that question and starts to yell at Ana, saying how she is useless, how she herself (Betty) had to do everything regarding the couch and no one helped her, how “her man” (meaning me) was not able to afford a couch for her, and other stuff I cannot remember. She called me an idiot, and called me slick, and said I was not funny with my stupid jokes, and kept yelling I was not helpful. I started to yell back at her saying how it had been six hours since we had been helping her. I also, at that point, lost it all and said “where are your friends right now to help you? Holy shit, I am literally on the bed of this truck fastening your couch and you are so ungrateful”. I was yelling as she was yelling back, and in that moment the yelling match turned something like the following:
Betty - “you are so fucking useless, IT’S ALWAYS ME GETTING SHIT DONE, no help from anyone, ALWAYS ME”
Me - “what the fuck are you talking about? We are LITERALLY helping you right now, what the fuck”
Ana - “guys please stop, can’t we all just get along, please?”
Betty - “Bro you are not funny man, who the fuck said you are? I am so tired of your shit, your stupid comments and jokes throughout the day”
Me - “where the fuck are your friends to help you? You are so fucking ungrateful; you jump from dick to dick and will never find love, you have no fucking friends”
Betty - “WHAT THE FUCK. Your bitch is a whore man, she doesn’t even wear condoms. A fucking whore and a fucking submissive bitch, that’s why you are with her”
Ana - “guys please stop”
Me - “Don’t you fucking dare talk about Ana that way, be fucking respectful”
Betty - “A fucking whore is what she is, and submissive, and worthless”
At that point we are yelling at each other and Betty starts saying that I am assaulting her, and threatens to call the cops. She grabs her phone to make a call and I start filming with mine, making it very clear that at no point have I put my hands on her or planning to, at all. She starts yelling at me for recording her and bring up her lawyers and the cops, and how recording her without her consent is illegal. We are calling each other names and I continue to film. She is also in disbelief at how my girlfriend is “not defending HER”. In reality Ana was trying to stay out of it.
Needless to say, the way back to their apartment with the couch was extremely uncomfortable. It was very quiet for the first 20 minutes until Ana asked us why we can’t just get along, which made Betty go off again, yelling at how I am slick, worthless, and so many names I cannot remember. Betty said she does not want me to step foot in HER house, and continued to say she would break the lease and have my girlfriend’s stuff out of her place. When we got to the apartment I let them carry the couch inside and asked my girlfriend to bring my stuff (a backpack and a duffle bag) out of the apartment. I did not want to step foot inside for my own safety. Betty does not have a gun but I am sure she would have used it if she did, either to threaten or God knows what. As I was leaning on the frame of the door Betty asked if I would come in, to which I said no, and she also slammed the door on my face and prevented Ana from opening it, positioning herself in front of the door and yelling that “if she steps foot outside she would kick her out” to which I kept yelling that Ana is also in the lease. When Betty opened the door I told her I would call the cops if she tried one more time to hold Ana hostage inside. She went off again and threatened to lawyer up and kick Ana out. After much yelling and cries from Betty, I ended up stepping inside, closing the door behind me, and talking to them both to de-escalate the situation.
At this point it is 2AM and after much yelling I apologize to my girlfriend’s roommate for stepping over the line when I basically called her a whore. I was a total piece of shit in that regard and sincerely felt like apologizing. Betty did not apologize but she said I could stay over. She said she will forget about the whole situation and that all she needed was to cry and get over what I had said. She went to the balcony to smoke weed and I left the apartment to basically cry out of frustration. Ana followed me and after 30 minutes or so talking outside I told her I had to leave. I did not feel safe sleeping over and did not know if I could ever feel safe again in that space. I walked over to my car and drove home for an hour. I went to bed at 3:30AM and woke up at 6:50AM, took a shower, and headed back to my girlfriend’s apartment complex to return the truck which we had to do by 9AM.
Sunday: flat tire and location sharing
It’s now Sunday morning. I get to my girlfriend’s apartment at 8:15AM, where I leave my car parked, and with her on the passenger seat drive over to the UHAUL, which is about 20 minutes away, to return the truck. Everything is done on time and after getting my girlfriend’s car from the UHAUL parking lot we stop at a diner to have breakfast. We get back to her apartment at around 10:20AM and by 10:25AM we are driving over to my place, each of us in separate cars. About 10 minutes after leaving I get a flat tire notification on my car’s dashboard and pull over at a near gas station to see what was going on. The car had gone from 35PSI in one of the rear tires all the way to 15, and kept going down. I end up driving the car over to a TiresPlus close by, which later confirmed the flat tire was due to a hole on the outside which “had been caused by an object that went in and out, more than likely a screwdriver or a knife”. Needless to say I had to pay ~$200 for a new tire.
I told Ana there is no way this was coincidence and that I suspected Betty had done something to that tire. She said she did not think it could have been the case since there is no way Betty knew where I parked. I did not think that logic made sense since Betty knows exactly what car I drive and she was in the apartment, in her room, when Ana and I left earlier to return the truck. She basically had two hours to do anything. On top of that, I found out that Ana actively shares her location with Betty via iMessage, and vice versa. Ana and I also have that sort of arrangement. They have been doing it for years.
Ana and I spent the Sunday sleeping at my apartment pretty much. I could not get the situation out of my head and barely slept, but being together made me feel better. We talked about the future extensively and Ana promised me that she will cut all communication with Betty once the lease is over, but currently there is nothing she can do. She also brought up living together again, and the following day also told me how she was looking into jobs that are close to my place.
Monday: going on a break with Ana
Ana went to work on Monday morning (5AM) from my house and I worked from home. I did not get anything done thinking about the whole situation and later in the afternoon Ana and I continued to talk about it. Later at night, as Ana was sending me text messages on how she was cleaning the house, Betty was also posting on social media about it. I told the whole story to my best friend who seemed mortified about the situation and asked me to be careful. Monday night I sent Ana a long message explaining that I need some time to think about our relationship. I said that I could not trust her judgement and was afraid for what might happen if she still hangs with this crazy person not now, but in the future as we think of a life together. Will she be at our wedding? At her birthday parties? Will she be involved in our lives? Even though she has told me she will not, I know that Ana has been well aware of how Betty is but nothing has changed in their friendship these past 17 years. It has only become stronger.
Ana was very hurt from my message and called me right away. After a one hour conversation where she pushed me to decide on breaking up or continue the relationship she hung up when I told her to please give me until Friday. She does not understand how it is that I am re-thinking our relationship if it is that I love her. I do care so much about her, but have not been able to move past what happened and the fear that she might introduce me to similarly dangerous people or environments, be it with Betty or with someone else, is severely impacting my ability to think there is a future here. To keep the story short this is the third time Ana has tried to, or has introduced me to, people or situations that pose a danger to me and her. I also have not been able to get out of my head how it is that she is friends with this person, Betty, who is so visibly crazy and with whom she has a matching tattoo, years of friendship, experiences, etc.
Tuesday: Ana’s early morning call and social media login attempt
At 7:30AM of Tuesday, as I was getting ready for work, Ana called me to tell me she was sorry for blocking me on social media and on iMessage. By doing that I no longer have access to her location. I was not aware since she had done that at night, after I had asked for some time. She told me she “did not want me to think the posts from her story were directed toward me”. She also told me that “she wanted to have some sort of control seeing how I was having her wait for a decision and felt lost”. She also confessed she could not sleep and had gotten to work very early, thinking through everything in her car at her workplace parking lot. Ana begged me to please consider our relationship and after trying on the phone we hung up for the day, and have not talked since.
After hanging out with Ana I noticed I also had an unread message of a login attempt into my Instagram. That was never happened before and my mind instantly went to Betty. At this point I might be overthinking, however, after such an awful experience.
I am in a situation where I have to decide whether to have Ana move in with me, live with the fact that she is with a psycho for the next ten months, or simply leave it all behind despite how much I care about her. I don’t know if I am ignoring some red flags and that’s really the reason why I needed the time and am seeking some help on here. I don’t know if I am in the wrong and would like some clarification because I truly feel so lost. Ana has done so much for me in the sense that she listens and I know she loves me, but I am just afraid of her judgement and what she might bring into the relationship in the future. I also feel like I don’t know her like I thought.
Should I lie the relationship or continue to fight? Would sincerely, wholeheartedly appreciate some advice.

I’ve been wondering about this for a while now. I’m not able to move out of my family‘s apartment yet and this place feels like it’s literally falling apart sometimes. Some examples being that there’s definitely mold growing in the house, I don’t think our vents/dryer have been cleaned out other than what we can reach ourselves, my upstairs neighbor’s window was starting to fall out of the wall last summer because of an AC unit, and we consistently have ants in the house every spring/summer because there’s fairly big cracks in the windows that let bugs inside even if they’re closed (Along with more I can’t think of off the top of my head). My family says we can’t tell our landlord about it because the rent will be raised, but that just feels like general upkeep that keeps us safe? Not to mention any fixes seem to come out of our pocket because of that. I also can’t remember any health inspections or even our landlord just coming to check in on the house other than when I was 8 or younger and it’s been a good while since then and even when that did happen I don’t remember anyone coming inside the house? It’s just been really confusing and I was wondering if this is actually something that they can do or if our landlord can’t raise the rent for upkeep like that.

Sorry, it’s a long one.
As the title says, I’ve been thinking about breaking up with my girlfriend of a little over a year. We’d been great friends for a few years prior and when we got together we both thought it was perfect. Obviously it was the whole “honeymoon phase,” or whatever, but it did genuinely feel good to be away from the bad relationships I’d been in in the past and finally in a good one.
As the environment in her apartment got pretty bad with her roommates she no longer felt safe there and so, quite soon into the relationship, she ended up moving in with me. In turn, we split my rent which helped me stay in the big city even with a very sudden increase to my rent. I honestly thought that us living together was the best situation for us both: we could stay together in a place where we both felt safe and loved.
Unfortunately, not much later on, I found out that there was a lot more in store for me than I’d originally anticipated.
She has always had some mental health issues which she was always seemingly in control of and, before we dated, had gone through a lot of therapy and gotten the help she needed to overcome her issues. That said, it seemed to get worse again while dealing with a plethora of issues including but not limited to financial problems concerning her ex-roommates and especially issues surrounding work and her family. Throughout all of this, though, I was there for her.
While dealing with these very difficult situations she became increasingly depressed and even s***idal. Nevertheless, I encouraged her to seek help again in any form she might need and tried to give her ways of coping. None of this advice she took and, on several occasions, has outright refused to access special services offered to her for coping during crisis. When I suggested I talk to her family for help, she begged me not to for fear of them bringing her back home and away from me (she is from another country).
This continued for some months with ups and downs and plenty of hospital visits. There would be weeks which would be pretty bad but there was some genuinely excellent days which, realistically, is likely why I’ve held out. I’ve been speaking to a therapist myself ever since this started in order to finds ways to cope (and perhaps impart this wisdom on her when she needs it) but she doesn’t know I’ve been talking to anyone.
That said, she does an incredible job of keeping all that stuff hidden and downplaying it in front of our friends. Whenever we’re out you might hear her crack the occasion self-deprecating joke but she will walk around with utmost confidence as if she’s totally fine. This is often stiffened with alcohol. As soon as we’re alone, though, she immediately goes back to being upset and refuses to tell me why if I ask her what’s up. Sometimes I wonder if she’s serious that she’s not doing so good or if she’s just playing it up in front of me so that I care about her and/or give her the attention she wants - as if I wouldn’t anyway. I suppose that’s a sign of something else entirely though.
We spoke about communication but she isn’t interested and never takes my thoughts into account. I just want her to talk to me so we can get past whatever she’s going through. She says she can’t do it.
It became harder through all this to see friends on my own without her getting herself into a panic about one thing or another. I think it’s separation anxiety but it’s to a ridiculous degree that’s unhealthy for either of us. She doesn’t have a lot of her own friends to turn to or hang with either but we do share some and the few she does have of her own are genuinely great people… she just doesn’t want to spend time with them. When she does, I’m usually forced to be there too.
It also got harder after this for me to pursue music. To be perfectly honest, there’s not a lot of people to pick from within our circles that can play an instrument and so I play in her band as well as a couple more. I try to split my time equally as all the bands are fun for me and I’m happy do my bit, expand my playing across the genres and whatnot… but she doesn’t like that. Instead, she finds it’s threatening that I’m in any band that isn’t hers in case I lose interest in hers or in case I sideline her band which she desperately wants to make work (despite me having to book gigs and organise rehearsals for her). I’m often guilted into not going to rehearsals that aren’t for her band but, when I do, she comes with me and gets annoyed/upset if I look too happy or interested.
I have expressed that I would like some more freedom but it doesn’t seem to matter as, in every way, I’m supposed to pity her and console her for not being as outgoing which basically means in the end I have to stay in with her instead. I can’t even go out for a drink with my friends after work without her freaking out that I’m going to be home late and we won’t have time together. While I could understand this if I didn’t spend any time with her… we live together, wake up together, cook and eat together, go out together, play music together and fall asleep together. I don’t get any time away from her besides going to work.
On top of all this, there’s an unhealthy amount of alcohol being consumed to boot and sometimes even Xanax because she “likes the taste”.
This is all without a bunch of stuff that would make this already essay-long post a lot longer.
I’ve tried talking to her but I just don’t think I can do it anymore. She doesn’t care to listen and I kind of doubt she respects me at all. The negatives have all been far outweighing the positives recently. I can’t cope with the strain that dealing with this relationship is putting on me.
Do I cut things off now before it gets any worse or do I try again to get her some actual help? Am I being harsh? There are some days where we are great but they’re just so rare, everything seems to be an issue for her. Where would she go if we split? I can’t afford to live here alone, where would I go? I still love her so the last thing I want is to hurt her or make things any more difficult for her.
Any advice on how to handle this situation or prepare/approach the breakup will be ridiculously well received. Again, sorry for the long post and I appreciate if you took the time to read and help.
TL;DR: Girlfriend has a bunch of mental health issues and is hard to live with. How do I break up with her to help us both?

Waking up next to Stanton, our clothes were all over the floor. Blushing at last night’s activity, I checked the time. A loud scream burst from my lips, the book club was in ten minutes. Crashing to the floor, Stanton stirred awake. Panicking at the time, the floor shook as he crashed to the floor. Searching for anything to wear, he was already tugging on a black band t-shirt and ripped jeans. Fixing his hair, my hand settled on a black and white striped swing dress. Slipping my feet into my boots, he brushed my wild hair into a simple side bun. Kissing me on the forehead, he dropped a random book into my palm.
“I will hang out with the husbands to analyze their behavior. Get those hens talking about their men.” He said simply, ignoring what we did last night. “Try and drink some coffee with them. Tell them that you have a stomach sensitivity.” Focusing on the book, scarlet colored my cheeks. It was one I had written and published fifty years ago, his brows furrowing.
“You’re telling me that I have to go and sit with a bunch of women while they misinterpret what I wrote.” I groaned bitterly, wishing that he would acknowledge last night. “Whatever. At least I know the plot.” Hooking his elbow into mine, we walked across the street. The husbands welcomed him with open arms, Susie yanking me in. Pulling me into the kitchen, she slid me a cup of coffee, my stomach churning. While most vampires enjoyed it, I despised it with a burning passion. Taking a sip, the pungent taste reminded me of a bunch of pennies.
“Tell me about sleeping with him. Was it fun? My husband is so boring.” She pleaded desperately, pressing her palms together. “I also asked for you to come because you look a lot like my favorite author.” Hitting the wall, a secret shelf with every single book I wrote covered every inch of the damn space. Think of an excuse, you idiot. Stanton looked up from his own conversation outside, my lips pressing into a thin line.
“My mother wrote them.” I lied seamlessly, Susie buying into it. “She was a lovely woman.” Lie, that was a lie. My mother was a poor Irish vampire who ditched me at the ripe age of three, her next question causing me to spit my coffee out.
“When is the sound of tiny feet entering your home?” She trilled sweetly, cupping my hands. “You are the first to know that I am pregnant now. I have been trying for years. Maybe you can get pregnant soon and we can have them be best friends.” Horror hid behind my polite smile, a long squeal escaping my lips. Like hell I would go along with her sick little plan. Something felt off, my vision blurred. A purple liquid swirled on top of the coffee, my body hitting the floor. A rough darkness devoured me as coffee pooled around my head.
A yellow light swung over my head, something else feeling off. Clammy sweat drenched my skin, a fever burning my cheeks. Susie towered over me, a spike spinning in her palm. Attempting to crawl away, her heel dug into my back. Unable to move, this felt like something else. The desire to take Stanton nearly controlled my mind, the claws extended from my fingernails. Spinning another needle of the liquid in her palm, she jammed it into my leg. Extreme nausea wracked my body, the beginning of a heat cycle disabling me. Parting my lips to speak, I needed his blood to survive or that was what it felt like. Only wheezes poured from my lips, she jammed another needle into my leg. Sending me into the next stage, every touch raised an incredible amount of goosebumps. Shivering in my spot, the last time I felt this was one hundred years ago when a handsome stranger caught my eye.
“I used to be a hunter.” She bragged gleefully, sitting down on top of me. “We have to finish before the book club arrives, you fucking idiot. I meant what I said about you getting pregnant around the same time. I know the serial killer lives among us. You have to trust me with that.” My eyebrow twitched with a mixture of bewilderment and irritation, a snarl curling on my lips. All of this was too much, my knee meeting her face. Crawling onto the living room floor, my legs felt like rubber. If she hit me with another needle of that liquid I would be pregnant within the next few days. At the current level in mine, three months remained before anything had to be done about that. Stumbling out, blood poured from her nose. Struggling to my feet, my shaking fingers opened her fridge to see what I needed. The process had already begun but I could delay it for a while. Pulling out a needle full of a milky liquid, she cried out as I jammed it into my thigh.
“I am not ready for that quite yet, Miss hunter!” I shouted vehemently, fuming darkly on the stool. “How can I know that you aren’t the serial killer?” Pausing in her spot, her slender hands jammed her nose back into place. Wiping the blood out from underneath her nose, she sat down across from me. Chuckling softly to herself, her fingers drummed on the stainless steel counter top.
“They killed my sister and her family a couple of weeks ago. I have nothing to gain from this.” She informed me briskly, holding her stomach. “I am the neighborhood watch and I can’t stand that someone is slicing their way through our little piece of paradise. Revenge is in my plan but now I have to be careful.” Seeing things through her point of view, the fact that she sped up my natural reproductive cycle ticked me off.
“I figured I might kick start things for your body. The sooner you get pregnant the happier Stanley will be. I always catch him watching the families walking by with a longing look. I am only doing it because he doesn’t suck up to me which makes him my favorite stranger.” She expressed with her real smile, pointing to me. “You are a purebred vampire. Such luck should be blessed in your eyes. You can give birth without dying. I met you once when my old man came to talk to you in your jail cell. I don’t know if you don’t remember him but his name is Father Rowell.” All of my breath escaped my lungs at the mention of his name, my mind flicking through the memories of every person who had visited me. Come to think of it, a redheaded woman did accompany a priest that one time. How did I not make the connection? Laying my head on the table, several women ran in. My eyebrow twitched, the perfectly dressed woman interrupted our conversation. A sea of blonde haired women shoved me aside, a couple of them shooting daggers from their eyes. Stepping back, Susie tugged me close to her. A bout of nausea wracked me, the combination of the potion she had injected with me mixed poorly with my sudden social anxiety. Dropping a tray into my palm, her gentle touch dragged me to the four ivory walls she called her living room. A brown leather set reminded me of my cell, the tray crashing to the floor. Glass shattered everywhere, my immediate response was to run. Apologizing profusely, I bolted out the door. Ignoring their looks, I ripped off my boots. Sprinting down the street, a masked individual slammed into me. Crashing to the ground, the pavement felt cool against my face. Still weak from earlier, I couldn’t just fight them off like normal. Quivering on the pavement, a disguised voice sent chills up my spine.
“Goodnight, my dear!” The robotic voice laughed evilly, a knife slamming into my body repeatedly.” Copper poisoned my taste buds, the person whistling. A rusting van pulled up, the license plate number 568 4325 stuck into my memory while my blood pooled underneath me. Tossing me into the van, Stanton barely made it onto the street. Locking the door behind me, I leaned against the wall. Pulling out my silenced phone, my vision blurred as I turned on my location. Hiding my phone behind a dusty box, a darkness swallowed me alive.
Jerking awake once more, this trend had to stop. Groaning in pain, a yellow light swung over my head, a rough rope cut into my wrists. Struggling only made the knot tighter, the killers having to be boat owners, hunters or some sort of boy scout. Glancing around, no weapons lay around. Talk about being professional. Muffled yelling stole my attention, a filthy redhead tugged on chains against the wall. Two small children hugged her side tightly, silent tears staining their cheeks. One, a pair of worn steel toe boots came into view. Two, the other shoe appeared. Three, his masked face poked around the corner. Four, Five, Six, one of the killers were at the bottom of the stairs. Seven, he towered over me at six foot seven. Lifting up his mask, relief crashed over me at the sight of an anxious Stanton. Seconds from cutting her rope, the boss stomped down the stairs. Pulling his mask down, the boss cleared his throat.
“Cut off her fingers until she talks about how she found us.” He demanded via a thick distorted voice. “Never mind, give me the knife.” Snatching it from Stanton, he could only watch with horror as the man held my finger straight. Three red dots blinked in the corner of my eyes, the operation making sense. This asshole was running a torture to murder show, a lump forming in my throat.
“Thank you for your payment of a million dollars. We shall gut her like a deer.” He mused darkly, tracing the knife along my flat stomach. “Then I will play with the guts to please you.” A scream burst from my lips the moment the blade glided across my stomach. Fighting the urge to vomit, my steaming guts poured out onto my lap. Playing with my intestines, the money began to pour in. Choking on the blood building up in my throat, a hack sent it all over his mask. The questions were sick, a clammy sweat drenching my skin.
“We have a vampire.” He announced with wicked laughter, my heart sinking in my chest. “This is going to be fun.” Stanton held his composure, the back of the metal chair bending underneath his grip. The heat potion kicked in, one accidental touch clouding up my mind for a moment. Bending down to my level, his next words sent chills up my spine.
“The boys are coming. We have to keep him occupied for about thirty minutes.” He growled through gritted teeth, the man asking him to run the computers. Touching my shoulder one last time, the chair squealed the moment he sank down into the chair. Shoving a slender flash drive into the USB hole, he was gathering the IP addresses. Shoving my guts back in, childlike wonder brightened the killer’s tone at my wound sealing shut. Susie’s sister held her hands over her kid’s eyes, the knife sliding in and out of me. The wet noise did little to help me, the potion making my stomach churn worse than normal. The money kept pouring in, the welcome sound of chaos woke me up from my sickly state. The agents from before piled down the stairs, Stanton ripping off his mask. Cutting the rope, his touch made me jump a couple of feet into the air. Popping to my feet, every footfall echoed in the concrete cell. Assisting Susie’s sister, her arms embraced me desperately. Every emotion soaked my shoulder, another touch from Stanton resulted in a tender blush on my cheeks. Shooting me a thumbs up, his lips brushed against the top of my head. Helping the woman to her feet, Stanton scooped up the children. Bright flashes blinded me, the news crew attempting to speak to us. Climbing into a tinted SUV, the children bounced into their mother’s arm. Fishing around a bag, he held out packages of cheddar crackers. The boys accepted them graciously, the car heading towards the hospital. The door ripped open, nurses ushering the family inside. Scanning me up and down, Stanton held me by my hips. Sniffing me real quick, fear flashed on his face. Not having time, Susie smashed into me. Desperate tears flooded from her cheeks, her quaking hands cupping my face. A deep crimson painted my cheeks, a newfound respect for me glowed in her eyes.
“Thank you so much for saving them. I don’t know how I could ever thank y-” She blubbered uncontrollably, my hand raising to stop her. Smiling brightly in her direction, this reaction made it all worth it. My lips parted to speak, a nurse dragging her off before I could explain myself. Stanton dragged me back to the car, a snarl twitching on his lips. Slamming me down into my seat, the partition hummed its way up.
“Your heat is supposed to be for another year! Why do you smell like you are three months away?” He demanded hotly, the crack of my hand meeting his cheeks stunning the both of us. How dare he ask after not talking about last night! Clenching my fists into a ball, I turned my back.
“You haven’t talked about last night. We had fun and you acted like nothing happened!” I blurted out venomously, happy to have it off of my chest. “You already forced me into a marriage, and now you want me to ignore what happened last night. Fuck you. I had fun but here you are. Was it that bad? Susie sped me up so we could be pregnant around the same fucking time. Did you know she used to be a hunter? She opened right up to me. In fact she knew me.” Spinning me around to face him, an apologetic smile dimmed his features. A piece of hair fell in front of his left eye, his hands rubbing my shoulder.
“I can’t tell you why that all scares me.” He mumbled under his breath, sliding me a large emerald box. “You need to get changed into your uniform to enter the facility.” Peeling off my destroyed dress, his eyes couldn’t leave the angry scars covering my body. Flipping the box open, I pulled out a lightly armored leather number. Tugging it over my head, the onyx leather covered my arms. Hiding my bloody hands underneath the bell sleeves, the deep v-neck showed off my ample breasts. Sitting back in the seat, the A-line skirt floated away from my body. Scooting closer to me, he offered me his neck. Sinking my fangs into his tender flesh, every gulp revived my health. Curling my arms around his neck, he drank away. This time a wave of euphoria crashed over me, a long sigh pouring from my lips. Unable to stop, fright rounded my eyes the moment his hand curled around my neck. A muffled protest stopped him, an oppressive silence hung between us. The car skidded to a halt, an impressive navy marble building towered over us. Helping me out, the numb look on his face scared the shit out of me. Marching in aggressively, the way he was acting reminded me of the first time I met Father Powell. Hugging him from behind, his muscles relaxed.
“We all lose control at times.” I assured him lovingly, the tone taking over my voice for the first time. “If I can gain control, you can do it.” Cupping my trembling hands, an agent was attempting to remember the plate number. Typing it in for them with my free hand, a grateful expression met my exhausted face. My legs gave out, Stanton placing me on his back. Ignoring the jeering whispers, the rumors spread within minutes. Bursting into the interrogation room, a shaggy haired man with angry dark eyes watched him set me down in the chair across from him. An unkempt beard danced with every growl in his throat, his scarred face informing me of a rough life.
“I am not the only one in this plot. Do you remember that serial killer club on the news a couple of years ago? I am the bottom tier.” He bragged gleefully, the sweet smell of poison wafting from his mouth. “We must all die with honor.” His heart beat one last time, Stanton calling for help. Help wouldn’t come soon enough, this was a magical poison. Dragging him out of the room, I climbed into the driver’s seat. A skill I had learned the moment cars had been invented, the modern car proving far easier to drive than those things. Stanton hopped into the passenger seat, my fingers typing in an address into the GPS. Driving for too long, the brakes squealed to a halt in front of a bustling night club. Taking off his tie, the poor thing floated to the back. Roughing up his suit, he protested as I messed up his hair. Letting my hair down, a familiar face had to be spoken to. Sauntering up the door, the bouncer let us both in. Loud music worsened my migraine, a scantily clad blond guided us up to the office. Opening the door, my fingers curled around the neck of my old friend. Pinning him to the wall, his scarlet curls bounced around. Ruby eyes glowered back at me, his garish velvet suit irritating me further.
“Who are you selling your poison to, you fucking idiot?” I interrogated him intensely, Stanton yelling at me to calm down. “I know what you sold to Susie. That I can let go but sell some sort of poison to a serial killer after school club! You are playing with fire.” Cocking his brows, he slammed his knee into my chest. Every rib shattered upon impact, all the breath leaving my body. Coughing on the floor, he picked me up by my hair.
“I refuse to let a runt like you run my life. I sell my magical drugs and that is that.” He snapped hotly, my bones fusing back together. “I don’t know or care what they do with them.” Wicked laughter rumbled in my throat, the heel of my bare feet slamming into his jaw. Raw energy built around my fist, his bones shattered upon the impact of my fist. Sliding down the wall, my bruising fingers picked him up by his collar.
“I don’t care that you make drugs. That isn’t my department but when they are used for suicide I have an issue. Who ordered it!” I screamed furiously, a glob of spit landing on my face. “Just answer the fucking question. I will break every bone in your body. You still owe me for you selling me out. I fucking let you keep the reward money.” Clicking his bones back into place, he struggled to his feet. Unlocking his cabinet, he pulled out an ancient ledger. Dropping it into my palms, he sulked to his desk.
“Take it. I have to start another one anyway. I will call you if somebody uber weird pops up.” He commented kindly, pulling out a new one. “Don’t charge me, ‘kay. I provide loads of hunger suppressants for the monsters in the area. I also help monsters get pregnant faster. The poison was only meant to be sold for someone who was going to die. You know that I can see reapers as well as you can. Watch your temper with that heat potion coursing through you. Your powers are going to be a little wacky for a bit.” Mouthing a silent thanks, a triumphant grin spread cheek to cheek. Walking through the club, another discussion had to be had once we got into the car. Climbing in, dread bubbled in my gut.
“Give up why you were in prison.” I demanded sternly, leaning on the steering wheel. “Don’t lie. I can sniff that shit out.” Tears welled up in his eyes, a lump forming in his throat. Storm clouds rumbled to life, heavy raindrops crashed to the top of the vehicle.
“You weren’t my first partner.” He uttered bitterly, chewing on his lips. “I had a romantic relationship with her and she turned out to be the serial killer. The bodies piled up behind me, and I didn’t even know. We were incredibly intimate. She lied with the biggest smile on her face. I enjoyed our evening together and that you only drank from the serial killers to survive. She was what the agency calls a binge eater. Devouring person after person and I was the one to put her down. The difference was that I didn’t love her like I love you.” Covering his mouth, a further explanation needed to be heard.
“What do you mean by love me?” I asked politely, attempting not to lose my cool while pulling into a Cally’s. “Don’t lie to me. I have been through enough hell today.” Refusing to look in my direction, my hands cupped his face. Gritting his teeth, his hands cupped mine.
“I observed you for months and fell in love with the way you helped the prison when you could. I loved it when you would spend weeks buried into an inhumanly huge pile of books.” He choked out awkwardly, fresh tears flowing from his eyes. “I sound like a creepy stalker but I needed to make you my mate from the instant you met me.” Nodding my head, my lips kissed his hungrily. Scarlet colored his cheeks, his hands falling to my flat stomach.
“I love you too.” I choked out just as awkwardly, hoping not to upset him further. “Watch this book, I will be right back.” Swiping his wallet, I ran into the department store. Ignoring the bright lights and horrid smells, I paused in the baby section. Closing my eyes, the sweet sound of my mother singing an Irish lullaby soothed my nerves. Snapping awake, a tiny girl had crashed into my legs. Instead of crying out in fear, she began to giggle.
“You are so pretty.” She sang adorably, her horrified mother scooping her up and running away. Getting a couple of packages of toy cars and a beautiful bouquet of white roses, hurt dimmed my eyes at the cashier watching me in pure terror. Paying for the items, silent tears stained my cheeks. Not saying a word, I punched in the address for the hospital. Cursing to myself, we were four hours away. Setting the stuff in the back, I chose to turn on the radio to drown out the chaos in my mind. Sobbing the whole way back, this world was no different. The only thing missing was the torches that had hunted my mother down. Getting there in record time, I ditched my partner to catch up to me later. Stopping at the desk, the nurse didn’t show the same fear as the people in the store. Tucking a loose piece of caramel hair behind her ears, her gray eyes twinkling with joy.
“Thank you for bringing them in.” She returned with a genuine smile, pointing to the last room down the hall. “Visiting hours are over. Surely, they want to see their hero. I will pretend I looked the other way.” Winking in my direction, she turned her back to me. Running to their room, an exhausted Susie lay on her sister’s bed. The children perked up at me, smashing into my legs. Crouching down at their level, I presented the packages of cars. Pecking my cheeks, they ran off to go play with them. Rising to my feet, I presented her with the flowers.
“How does your sister like her coffee?” I inquired with my genuine smile, the mother’s expression softening into a gracious smile. My lips parted to speak, the woman’s head shaking. Coughing a bit, blood covered her hand. Seconds from pushing the nurse button, her raspy voice stole my attention. Stanton hovered in the door, the mother’s heart monitor going nuts. Looking closer, a bony hand rested on her shoulder. Following the arm, a reaper held her shoulder. Death had come to her, the option not working for me.
“Is there anything I can give you in return?” I begged with my palms pressed together, knowing that those kiddos needed their mother. “How about this?” Snapping my fingers, my stolen reaper’s scythe rested in my palms. Snatching it from me, the cold hand curled around my neck. Gasping for air, his yellowed skull hovered inches from my face. Biting down on my arm, he gulped down enough to figure out who I was.
“I recognize your stupid face.” A chilly voice thundered evilly, the other finger playing with my hair. “You vampires are the bane of my existence. I can’t take your souls when there's none to take. I will spare her this one time but she will have to go next time regardless of what you have.” Dropping me to the floor, he was gone. Coughing up a storm, one of the kids hit the button. A look of horror dawned on his face, his tiny body smashing into my legs. Crouching down to his level, he shivered in my arms.
“Was that a reaper?” He stuttered brokenly, my head nodding. “Will they ever hurt me?” His tight red curls tickled my face, the other twin watching from a distance. Their emerald green eyes watched me as the nurse brushed past me.
“No, they won’t.” I promised them warmly, taking him to the waiting room. “Let’s go play while they take care of your mom, ‘kay.” Susie snapped awake, picking up her other nephew. Crashing into the nearest chairs, they played with their cars. Susie rested her head on my shoulder, snores echoing in my ear. Letting her sleep, I was thankful for my current life.

WARNING: SPOILERS GALORE IN HERE, IF YOU HAVEN'T PLAYED ALL THESE GAMES AND DON'T WANT TO BE SPOILED, DO NOT READ!
I've always liked KH, since I first saw Cloud in a KH1 commercial as a kid (I was obsessed with FF7 as a small child), I knew I had to play it.
So I played KH1 religiously in elementary school, heard about CoM but didn't have a gameboy advance so I ignored it, then played KH2, barely understood what was going on, but enjoyed it thoroughly. Continued to ignore the 'spinoffs' because my family was poor and there was no way I could afford all the different portable consoles they were putting these damn games on. Then, finally, bought and played KH3 on release, with my wife.
fast forward to a couple months ago, and after a few debates with my coworkers about the 'quality' of KH3 (I kinda hated it), I decided to sit down and play through the entire series properly, because it was VERY apparent I was missing too much context, and thankfully, 1.5+2.5 final mix, and 2.8 are things that exist now, and are free on PSPlus, so why not? Besides, my wife's ONLY exposure to the series was KH3, so I owed her some context.
Kingdom Hearts 1: What can I say? It's KH1, it's Simple, it's Clean, it's a good fuckin' game when nothing like it really existed at the time. I played on Normal because my wife was watching along, and I didn't want the plot progression to get hung up on me dying to the same boss 25 times. In hindsight, maybe I should've picked a harder difficulty, because I remember spending hours on Maleficent's dragon form as a kid. Hiding out in the bramble where none of her attacks reached me, just chipping away at her HP, but now, I just kinda walked right through her. My biggest complaint with KH1 was against bosses like Ansem's second phase (when you're fighting him 1v1), that KH1's lack of gap-closing options becomes apparent. Bosses like Ansem will frequently blink to the opposite side of the arena, and it takes Sora so long to close the distance, that they've already moved into an attack with i-frames before you can reach them, leading to a lot of missed opportunities for punishes, in my opinion. It didn't help that I accidentally put myself in a sort of 'hard mode' by choosing the Dream Sword, and discarding the Dream Shield, making Sora a glass cannon. But on the flip side, in comparison to later entries the franchise, I really like KH1's more grounded movement, but I'll get more into that later.
I beat the game pretty quickly, so I farmed for Ultima Weapon, as I'd never gotten it as a kid, and then kinda... walked right through Sephiroth, Hooded Figure, Phantom, and Kurt Ziza with little to no effort. Hell, I beat Seph first try, so that was a bit disappointing but I think I did it to myself by grinding out Ultima Weapon first.
Chain of Memories: This was it, my first proper "spinoff" title and I was very excited to get into it, and discover new pieces of the story I missed, and it did NOT disappoint! being properly introduced to the Organization members prior to KH2, finally understanding why Namine is a thing, memories, heart's memories, etc. All to culminate in a proper setup for KH2's opening and to explain why Sora was in a giant flower, etc.
Gameplay however... I knew it was card based because I remember my friend as a kid briefly showing me the game, so that was no surprise, and I honestly did enjoy it enough, the card-based combat was fleshed out enough to give players plenty of room to develop strategies and that's really all I needed from it. What I didn't like, however, was the gameplay loop. It simply got repetitive, and it was obvious that this game was a reskin of a GBA game, hardware limitations included. Every cutscene at the beginning and end of a floor was great, especially towards the end when the climax starts to really ramp up, but getting to those moments was such a slog, so by halfway through the game, I was over it and just wanted the game to end.
Marluxia... omfg. Okay so I played this game on normal, but I guess I screwed up and spent too many levels on max HP, and not enough on deck size, this fight took me for-fucking-ever to beat, I genuinely hated this game by the end, and to top it all off, I misread the endgame prompt and didn't create a "completed save", so I couldn't start Riku's chapter, unless I went back and beat Marluxia again...
358 Days/2: Moving on, even though I own a DS, I'm not buying a copy of this, so I watched the included movie in 1.5+2.5, and honestly, it was great. It added SO MUCH more context to KH2, and it was fun to try and piece together at what moments during KH1 or CoM that certain things were happening in Days. Axel's outright bizarre motives in KH2 finally make sense, Roxas's memories, etc. I will say, though, that Xion confuses me, I really don't understand how Vexen, who constantly talked about his replicas being incomplete, imperfect, etc, was able to make something so powerful, and unique, as Xion. Total outlier of his skills and it never feels properly explained but oh well.
Gameplay's a little light, though.
Kingdom Hearts 2: I was REALLY excited to get back into this one, and it didn't disappoint. With the proper context from CoM and Days, the beginning FINALLY made sense and by the end of Twilight Town, my wife said "Roxas really got done dirty, and I'm mad." To which I agree. Going through this entire game with the intended amount of context was like playing a whole new game, it made a game I already consider to be great, even better. What else can I really say?
When I got control of my character the first thing I remember saying was "jesus christ was the camera always this far away?" I guess I never really noticed it, but with combat being so much more aerial focused, it makes sense. I had never played the Final Mix version of this game, so the Limit Form was a welcome sight, even if it is hilariously broken. Overall, watching Sora's moveset expand as his skills with the Keyblade do, is neat, and reaction commands are a fun mechanic to play with, personally.
However, I did not like how 'floaty' Sora is, and it's a theme that continues through the rest of the series. I died a lot due to getting knocked into the air by a hit, and then just never getting the chance to touch the ground again because Sora takes 10,000 years to float back down to the ground. With no aerial blocking, and air dodging having a longer cooldown then dodge roll, it led to a lot of frustration. Also, special shout-out to "YoU ClEvEr LiTtLe SnEaK!", honestly, fuck Xigbar, I don't know why, but his fight gave me more trouble than any other boss in the entire game. I struggled so much to find an opening to punish him and spent 90% of the fight swinging at the air then getting hit in the back because of how much he blinked around.
I never got around to getting ultima weapon, or beating any secret bosses in KH2, although I did visit Lingering Will and Sephiroth just to see what they were like. I remember I beat Seph as a kid at lvl 65 specifically because of MP Berserk, so maybe I'll go back and try it sometime.
Birth By Sleep: I heard so much about this game as a kid, and even recently, and I knew during my first playthrough of KH3 that Terra, Aqua and Ventus were from BBS, and that they were pretty important characters, but I could've never guessed just how important until I finally played this game. The story for this game was simply great, I started off thinking Terra was the most bland, uninteresting character I'd ever seen (his VO's flat delivery of dialogue didn't help), but by the end, he was my favourite, and honestly, Aqua felt like the third wheel to me, by the end. Like sure, after completing the 4th 5th and 6th episodes, I felt bad for her, as she was clearing going through A LOT, but while Terra and Ventus both had VERY clear stakes in the story, Aqua just felt kind of... there. Her ties to the plot weren't nearly as strong and her story was more relegated to "watching her 2 friends get fucked by destiny and plot". However, Aqua at the end being responsible for Castle Oblivion, along with the clarification on what Org. 13 was looking for in CoM, was such an awesome reveal and my wife and I were losing our collective shit over it.
Oh, and of course, finding out what exactly the Lingering Will was, was pretty damn cool, too!
Fun fact, this is the first game I played on Critical, everything was on Normal until this point. I heard it was one of the easier games to play on Critical, so I figured why not. By the time I finished Terra's arc, I was begging to go back to CoM to fight Marluxia. I cannot express enough just how much I DESPISE this game, in a gameplay sense. Ignoring the obvious things like playing through the same worlds 3 different times and how tiresome that gets, the combat was so blood-boilingly infuriating, I wondered if I was going to actually finish the game. The command system, I hate it. "What? You wanted to cast Cure because you're about to die? Well, too bad, the enemy with 0 warm up frames in his attack just hit you at the same time you pressed X, so your Cure goes on cooldown now, fuck you." That's not even getting into the terrible end-lag in your own attacks, and just how sluggish everything feels. Critical mode aside, this game even on Normal would've pissed me off for all the same reasons, I was so relieved to be done with it.
Re:Coded:>! I was told this one wasn't necessary, and almost skipped it, but decided against it and I'm kinda glad I did. I only watched the movie, but I hear the gameplay itself is pretty solid, so maybe one day I'll check it out. The plot is self-contained, and interesting to watch, and it does get referenced a few times in KH3, so it didn't really feel like a waste.!<
Dream Drop Distance: I was genuinely lost for a while, plotwise, in this game. I felt like I'd missed an entry somewhere that'd apply context, but no, Yen Sid is just not great at explaining things. By about halfway through the game I was caught up and understood what was going on, but the first hour or so I was just along for the ride, hoping I'd understand it later. I enjoyed what DDD was doing, and it felt like, had it been a console release, this could've easily been KH3 with just how much direct impact it has on the plot compared to other entries. Honestly, watching Riku slowly, but surely, get his act together throughout the series has been a treat, and it all comes to a head in this game, he finally moves on from rival/edgebaby to a proper equal to Sora, so much so that if they were to have a gentleman's duel just to test their strength, I couldn't confidently say who would win.
The worlds were hit or miss, seeing Notre Dame was cool, but honestly who the hell asked for Tron: Legacy? I will note that, especially for worlds like Tron, I didn't really feel like I was part of the plot like in KH1 and 2, but more like I was just watching the plot progress from the sidelines. It was jarring.
But the biggest disappointment by FAR was Fantasia. Before I even booted up this game, I was talking about how cool it would be if KH ever visited the world of Fantasia just due to how unique of an experience it would be. I imagined something along the lines of a rhythm game like Crypt of the Necrodancer or Metal Hellsinger, just a neat gimmick tied to that world's music that kept you in line with the beat of the song. So, when I watched the opening to DDD and saw the very clear reference to Fantasia, I got excited, only to be completely let down by it being just another world, except your hits play random instrument noises, and essentially a barebones prototype to Melody of Memory as a reaction command. Honestly, this world was completely wasted on a portable KH entry, it should've been saved for a console entry where it could've been realized more fully, rather than confined to the limitations of a portable console. Oh well, maybe in KH4.
I also played this game on Critical and hooboy did I feel it, but first, the basics. Flowmotion sucks. Thanks for coming to my TED talk. Seriously, I get what they were going for, but I honestly hated how disruptive flowmotion ended up being. Air dodge out of the way of something, well, you touched a wall, so now you gotta brace against it and get ready to bounce off. It's not that it was ruining my gameplay or anything, it was just annoying because it'd remind me of its existence at the most inconvenient times, and it was broken, like, hilariously broken. I definitely abused flowmotion to get through some encounters early on, when I didn't have many tools at my disposal yet, and even in the World that Never Was, I managed to use flowmotion to get ontop of, and over a building to get to the other side, which triggered a cutscene I don't think I was supposed to see yet, because suddenly I was talking to Roxas with NO context, so there's a good chance I skipped a scene or two by doing this purely because the game let me, and I wanted to see what was at the top, if anything (I originally thought I was gonna find some way out of bounds or something).
The Dreameaters genuinely don't bother me. I actually kind of enjoyed levelling them up as a means to acquire abilities and passives. The only thing that unironically kept me from grinding their stats more is that irritating fucking song that plays whenever you play minigames with them. I despise it. With all my heart.
The drop-out mechanic was annoying as hell in some instances, especially when, towards the end of the game, I did a TON of farming on Sora for Droplets, to give Riku a ton of bonuses to help with progression, only for the game to immediately FORCE me to drop from Riku, back to Sora, just as soon as I got control of him, causing me to hard reset the game, reload my save, and actively backtrack as Riku to get an actual use out of the bonuses I saved up for him.
The combat was, well, I wasn't enthused to see the Command List back, and I suffered all the same frustrations that BBS gave me, with only MARGINAL improvements in gameplay. The only saving grace was enemies actually had warm-up animations on attacks, giving you a brief head's up instead of just randomly bursting into a combo with no warning.
Anti-Nightmare Sora was the first fight that I genuinely gave up on. even Xigbar in KH2, Terranort in BBS, Terranort again in BBS, Vanitas, all of them I managed to push through. But this fucker? No, I had to walk away for a day, come back, grind my eyes out, and when I FINALLY beat him, the game then beat me over the head with Young Xehanort...
...Then I discovered Balloonra and slept through the rest of game.
Fragmentary Passage: Not much to say other than it's a tech demo for KH3, plot wise, it was interesting to see where Aqua's story lines up with the end of KH1, and where she's at both literally, and mentally, by KH3.
X: Back Cover: Whoever wrote the dialogue for Master of Master's needs a raise and a personal statue outside SE HQ because this guy is hilarious! His deliveries are genuine, quick, witty, and not at all the stilted, oddly paced dialogue I've come to expect from the KH series, and well, everything Square does outside of FF14 and 16. I would not be surprised to find out his dialogue was written in English first, rather than Japanese.
Anyway, I'm really mad I have to either play, or watch someone else play, a gatcha game to get the rest of the context here, because this movie was fascinating, and these characters all seem to be pretty damn important to KH4, so it's a shame.
Kingdom Hearts 3: Back (almost) full circle! Just like with KH2, coming into KH3 was full context was such a breath of fresh air! Everything made more sense, and I had a clear understanding of the character's motives and goals throughout the story. Again, what's there to say, really?
Well... the worlds kinda suck. Olympus being relegated to a tutorial felt like a slap in the face, and overall, the entire world felt bland. It looked like a generic Unreal Engine open world environment, with Hercules pasted in it. Nothing about the open wilderness outside the city really looked like it belonged there, it didn't fit Hercules' art style in the slightest. Compared to, say, Kingdom of Corona, where everything felt more visually on brand, granted, Tangled is a CGI movie, Hercules isn't, I understand that the translation is harder to make but it really didn't look like much effort was taken at all for 2/3rds of Olympus.
Arendelle was "Fall of a mountain simulator" and I was absolutely sick of it. It also epitomized my problems with DDD's worlds in that, when you really think about it, you do ABSOLUTELY NOTHING in Frozen's plot. You are sidelined the entire time, with Sora and the gang essentially climbing back up a mountain, being told "hey here's what you missed, okay bye!" Before being yeeted back off again, to rinse and repeat ad nauseum until you fight a boss that just doesn't feel earned, which is a damn shame because Skoll is one of the coolest looking fights in the game. There's no participation, the plot simply ignores you the whole time and does it's own thing until you leave.
Pirates and Big Hero 6 felt hilariously short. If you have no intention to explore the open world (there is nothing worth exploring in Sanfransokyo, so this doesn't help) The worlds feel like you're in and out in 20 minutes.
Shoutout to Monsters Inc and Toy Story, you definitely felt like you were a part of the world, and a part of the story happening within it.
The end of this game was phenomenal, seeing everything you've been watching build up, finally come all together, the reunions, the realizations, the callbacks, all of it was such a MASSIVE payoff that was completely lost on me the first time, when the only games I had played were KH1 and KH2, and not since they were new.
So, as with every other game after BBS, I played this one on critical, as I was told it was simply a more rewarding experience, and I honestly agree. Sure, I had a lot of frustrations (Sora's floatiness being paramount) but you can finally BLOCK IN MIDAIR, and BLOCK OR DODGE MID COMBO! If KH2 had these mechanics, it'd be hands down the best game in the whole series, period. I wish they'd thought of it sooner, almost every entry in the series would have benefited from this.
I did spend my fair share of time absolutely raging at the final boss gauntlet, however, and really, my biggest issue was just visual clarity (if you remember Xehanort's meteor attack, then you probably know). But I beat it and was very satisfied with how Xehanort's arc turned out. KH3 is a great game.
Re:Mind: I got this DLC half off, and even still, I'm a little mad I spent money to spend most of my time rewatching the cutscenes I JUST WATCHED from the maingame. The game reached a point where it started truncating the cutscenes to get to the new info quicker and I couldn't help but wonder why the hell they didn't do that to begin with... but ultimately, the DLC was good, a glorified boss gauntlet, sure, but good. Explaining Sora's disappearance was welcome and started setting up context for KH4.
The data fights... as of writing this, I have completed 11/13 of the fights. I'm missing Xion, Xehanort, and of course, Yozora. Only reason I haven't done more is a sudden lack of free time to do so. To reiterate, I'm on Critical, and these fights, while some have absolutely pissed me off to no end (lookin' at you, Vanitas), these fights have solidified KH3 as probably my favourite game in the franchise, purely on gameplay alone, and one of my favourites of all time. The combat FEELS rewarding, (usually) failure doesn't feel like you were cheated by some BS mechanic, but feels like something you know YOU did wrong, and need to correct for the next attempt. I will be going back to do the rest of the fights, as terrifying as they look, because so far, it's been genuinely fun to figure out the puzzles behind these fights and put my skills to the test.
Melody of Memory: Kingdom Hearts rhythm game! Neat!
Well, kinda. It wasn't a very satisfying game to play in comparison to something like Guitar Hero, but it was enjoyable to listen to my favourite KH songs (shout out to The Encounter! Don't care how bullshit the boss is, if it's using that song, I can't even get mad, it's just too much of a bop!) But I did not appreciate yet another rehash of the plot as the main gameplay incentive.
Thankfully that game is pretty damn short, so getting to the end, where the actual meat and potatoes is, in terms of new plot, was pretty painless and overall, worth it. More context for KH4, Kairi deciding to train under Aqua(!), and the somewhat harrowing implications that Xehanort knew about the 'unreality'.
And that's it. I guess I'm done with KH until 4 releases, or that AR mobile game. I've been typing for a very long time now and I'm not sure how to close this out other than... uh, thank for reading, can't wait to hear all about how wrong or right I am about your favourite entries!

Dear fellow INFPs,
I'm addressing this to people who feel like they're stuck mentally. Let me start off by saying eveyone has their own issues, some just bigger than other. Some have more unfortunate situations, others have not-so-bad situations but they experience them negatively, and then there's people who see the beauty of life. Whether you started out with getting help or not, I hope this piece gives you insight in what to do, but especially.. in what order. Looking on the internet there are 1001 ways of therapy, all kinds of guru's who tell you this is THE way! The ONLY way! I mean sure, much of it comes down to the same thing over and over again, but I'm convinced that some things are better before other. Take this account from someone who has been through it, who has tried 101 things, picked the useful ones, who got stuck multiple times, but ultimately can tell you my best experiences. But who am I, except for just another random dude on the intenet?
Where to even start. I've been thinking of writing this piece for a long time but always found reasons to postpone. Ironically. I've been insecure, depressed and suffering from general anxiety disorder for most my life, at least until some time ago. After I tasted the first moments of happiness I made it my mission to keep moving forward, every day possibly better than yesterday. Nine years, a lot of therapy and many hours of psychology self-study later, I want to share with you what I've learned in a condenced form. I'll start off with a little background information. Then I'll follow up with a listed summary followed by why I think doing it in that order is important. Lastly, I'll list a bunch of my sources that helped tremendously. I don't want to make this a feel-sorry story about me so I'll keep it short just for context. If you believe me for my word you can skip one paragraph.
I come from a family with an ISTJ dad and ISFJ mom, both horribly emotionally immature, unavailable, unpredictable and very suspicious of other people. They love me and my brother but were the worst in showing it. My dad hardly talked and stopped playing with us after a motor cycle accident. My mom was burned out most of the time and ready to explode. Now, what kind of things would that teach your kids? They had their own terrible experiences and upbringing, into which I won't go. Not to mention I was born 10 weeks early, lay alone in a machine much time with cordasol basically already coursing through my veins. All in all, me (the quiet good boy) and my brother (the ADHD ESTJ rebel) had completely different lives. He went all out in the rebel behaviour with his gang, vandalism and drugs, whereas I found out about Maplestory and built up an alternate life there, eventually also with drugs. (Real) friends, what are those? Getting beat up twice as freshman, who cares. The Fight/Flight/Freeze response was strong and consistent already at 15 y/o. I didn't know it at the time but the result was a near-permanent pressure on the Solar Plexus, always being tired and having burst of sweat when I came in social situations. The sweat didn't particulatly make it better. You want to try that new thing? Ah better not, you hurt yourself once as a kid so now everything is too dangerous.
The result is what you may expect. A very quiet, badly nail biting, skitterish mommy-child ' adult' who bursts into tears on random moments when alone, never knowing exactly what causes the pain. My first steps in self improvement happened by accident when I went off for further education in the capital. One roommate of mine studied psychology and he introduced me to a mindfulness training.
This is where it starts.
But now? What good is my story without a testimony? Now I'm finally starting a career, regardless of some obstacles. I don't nail bite anymore and handle stress way more easily. I was the star waiter of our restaurant and I'm having my first stand up comedy gig next week as well as acting school. Right now I work as the "very likeable" office manager at a sustainability company. Not everything is perfect, e.g. attachment to a partner and my ability in decision making, but it's all a process. Step by step. Keep your target (happiness?!) in mind and keep going.
(Step one and two are not processes but rather state of mind from which to work on. Let it sink in but don't get stuck on it.)
Step one: Acceptance of your own imperfection. It's okay.
This step sounds obvious but I don't think it is in practice. Too many people I've talked to are ready to talk about the bad things that happen in their life but as soon as you start about their OWN role in the situation, they will get all defensive and maybe even antagonized. Everyone makes mistakes. Everyone has bad experiences that colour their judgement of things and the way they act. Only if you accept this and what you have done in the past as fact, only then you are open minded enough to change. Otherwise, whatever you'll learn what could've helped you, you'll dismiss from your mind as soon as you leave the therapist, either from stubbornness or as a unconscious selfdefence reflex because you don't accept that yes, also you have weaknesses. This counts especially for people whose insecurity is being percieved as weak, dumb or unlikable. You see, if your insecurity is that you're not good enough, then how painful is it to accept that yes, you have inherent flaws? LIKE EVERYBODY ELSE? That's what keeps people from learning. That's what's keeping people from changing. Accept that you're not perfect and have things to change. Why else are you looking for help? It's like an addiction where you don't like the addiction but the alternative seems worse.
Lastly, know that your perception of others is probably not true. Only you know you because you know your thoughts. You don't see the mind of other people. If only you knew. Other people may seem saint-like but they aren't. Even the nicest people have some dark(er) characteristics and their own insecurities. Once you recognize this you may not feel so crazy anymore. Guess what, the battle between your little devil and angel is a human thing. The difference, though, is that you're open to change. The difference is that you are not in denial or oblivious of your mistakes like your aunt Hilda.
Step two: Accept your own agency and so reject victimhood.
Let me introduce you to my ex-roommate Petrus (pseudonym), who always talked about his troubles in life and how life failed him. The thing is, he'd always go on and on about how it was the effing police who fired him, how it was the effing insurance company who effed him over, how it is the effing women who are all whores and bitches anyway so why bother. His near-exact words. Never him, though! Oh no, that would receive a "yea sure.... but..!" with a scowl. While deep down all this talk is fueled by deep rooted insecurities and pain. You think you're not like that, and you're probably right. At least not to the same degree as he. Be ready to take responsibility for your own (re)actions.
I understand that doing step one and two are actually quite hard. I just mean to point out that as long as you are aware of them, you can change. You'll find out along the way in what ways your own behaviour has shaped your life so far, and what you can do in turn to change it. Life is like a beach, it is up to you to make your sand castle with upcoming waves and running kids. Like everybody else. The roommate mentioned above never accepted his agency and so did NOT have any results from the same therapist that I had. And whom he quit after one session. Scary, I know.
I cannot stress enough that self-reflection is key for anyone who's willing to change !!!
Step three: What do I feel and why?
Or in other words: the popular phenomena called Mindfulness and Cognitive Behavioural Therapy. What it boils down to is the focus on self-awareness, to get a good insight into your own emotions and how it subconsciously affects your daily life. Before you quit reading: this is only the start. It is the difference between your mask and your underlying feeling. For instance, I would have the emotional 'mask' of being the joker and pleaser, only because WITHOUT doing that, I'd feel... well, uncomfortable. Now this uncomfortable feeling is important to figure out. For me I could summarize it with "I am not enough" and "I am not likeable". God it sounds so simple in a few sentences but this is a process of trying and trialing, where you'll think it was one thing, but it was something deeper, or they could all be summarized in one overarching insecurity. Finding out your mask personas is an important but scary step. Without your mask you'll feel remarkably vulnerable.
Now, I do not know where you are or if something similar is near to you. However, a good therapist will help you decipher your insecurities and underlying sadness. Understanding what you feel and why is step 3. You will NOT get here just through talking about your day unless the other specialist knows what they're doing, for the simple reason that many people are unaware of many of their reactions in daily life and what childhood trauma's they may have surpressed. Otherwise you'll just repeat the lines you tell yourself without going deeper. Such therapists should have their license revoked ffs.
Step three 'n half: grounding a.k.a. to get into contact with your feelings
There's much to be found online about grounding so by all means find other technique if mine doesn't work for you. I'd suggest you first try the most common way. Don't, the more you do it the faster you can do this. It takes me 20 seconds tops. Anyway: sit up on a chair without distractions nearby, eyes closed, hands on lap, feet on the ground. Take a couple of deep breaths. 4 seconds in, hold 4 seconds, 4 seconds out. Blow out like you blow out a candle. While you do this you repeat to yourself ' relax' or 'calm' or 'it's okay, you're safe' or whichever works for you.Then, take all your attention to your left foot. Feel the contact with the ground. Feel any (dis)comfort, any pain, itch, whether its cold, warm. Observe it, don't analyze it. It's not wrong, it's not good. It's just.. there. After you're ready you go to the left calf. Same thing. Feel the cold, warmth, the pressure, an itch, anything. It's not wrong, it's not good. It's just.. there. It's you. Hold your attention before going to your left thigh. Keep this process throghout your body. In the end, after your face is calm. Forehead is smooth. Eyes are relaxed. Jaw is loose. Deep breath and turn your attention to what you're feeling. Where is it? In your head? In your stomach? For me it's the solar plexus but it differs. Feel the emotion. It's not wrong, it's not good. It's just.. there. Accept it. Name it.
Side note: you may get distracted often. This is fine. Don't get mad at yourself as this only works negatively. Accept it, see it happen like a cloud drifting by and return your attention.
Side note 2: Accepting the emotion is very important. I had issues with that but getting mad at yourself for feeling something will only make things worse and is counter productive. Anyway why would you? Think of a friend. Can he feel lonely sometimes? Of course.
Congratulations, now you are what we call in contact with your feeling. This is DIFFERENT than the self-pitying saddness that's more common. THIS is the emotion that you can process. THIS is the emotion you can write down, cry out, talk about, whatever works for you. Also at the therapist. Especially at the therapist. It may feel redundant to do it with the little steps but believe me, if you're not used to grounding yourself then this is how to start. Sometimes it's harder than other, depending on your state-of-mind at the moment. Later you'll be used to it and 'go to your feeling' faster and more naturally than doing a detailed body scan. You're right if you think it's akin to meditation. Trust me. It's a human thing. You can do it too. Some people have put away their emotions deep down in order to protect themselves and for them it may be harder.
IMPORTANT: learning to ground may also mean you're nearer to your emotions. This is a good thing, as long as your work with them! Depending on the severity of your repressed traumas, it is highly advised to involve a therapist. You don't want to open up a well of misery only to do nothing with it. More on that in the next paragraph
Step four: Accept your past hurtful experiences. Process the associated emotions
This step is actually really important, and I wish I had done it way earlier. It would have saved me maybe three years. Okay so see it like this. Two things to remember. First: emotions that you experience but were unable to express will STAY in your body. Your body is like an emotional hard drive and somewhere there's tension building up. Second: this system you can compare to a hydrolic dam. Imagine: when there's a bit of water in the reservoir, there's no problem. When there's more water in the reservoir it's also okay, but the force on the dam builds up. Still more water all kind of okay, except that the dam is under a lot of pressure. A relatively small damage has to happen for cracks to appear and water to escape. This is exactly how it works with emotions. This is how people have sudden burts of rage, sudden burst of sadness, over relatively small incidents. They just... burst. This tension in addition with perfectionism are root causes for burn out as well. Just how much energy must it take? Anyway, as for the actual processing, I have a few tips.
The major one is a therapy called Somatic Experiencing. This is specialized in bringing up past emotions, even from when you were just a baby (I can tell..). All the stored up emotions will affect your daily life, likely without you noticing. It literally changes the way you react to things. E.g. how you react to some kinds of jokes, to how you may be very sensitive to situations, may feel angry or sad all the time, but also your attachment style in relationships. For me, processing all my fears and feelings of loneliness and betrayal on my innocense has given room for love, compassion, joy/playfulness and a general peace of body.
All in all, therapists are recommended.
Something else is a rage room. This is a place where people come together to literally scream and let emotions out. No experience there, just heard about it. I would think that the problem here is guidance. You can release stuff, but only things you are aware about. A good therapist can ask questions that will trigger things you can't do yourself. If you don't, you'll just scream from frustration which doesn't help much just like shower crying. Still, if you do it right I'm sure it may help.
NOTE: before going here, read the paragraph about grounding. This is an important asset without which you'll not get the results you want.
Step Five: self improvement. Learn by doing. Train your subconsciousness by experience.
It may feel like this step is late in the cycle, however it is not for nothing. To use the metaphor, Would it be easier to upgrade your dam into a hydraulic energy generating dam while the reservoir is still full, or while the water level is low? It is not to be underestimated how much internal conflicts will colour your perspective on yourself and the outside world. This is a major mistake I made, and what many therapists will still try.
Self-Improvement really means to use your self reflection to not just see what you do, but mainly what do you want to do with it? Let's say hypothetically you feel like you don't speak up enough. You've found out this is because of an underlying insecurity, in this case maybe that you feel unimportant because your parents never acknowledged any idea that you
I'd suggest journaling. Or rather, emotion analyzing and bring them up while writing. Ground yourself first. The goal is to FEEL the emotion and so process it without storing it up again. Cry about it if you need to. You know when children are sad, then cry a lot, then are running around happily again? Same with us adults. INFP or no. Except that we, with a little training, can actually name what we're feeling. Warning: this should only be really possible after some mindfulness. Firstly, because how else are you going to identify your own emotions? And secondly, you need to learn to 'ground' yourself, go into 'feeling mode'. Without it, it'll just be feeling sad because you feel sorry for yourself, instead of addressing the emotion itself. Wallowing in your sadness (this case: own victimhood) will only make things WORSE in an vicious cycle of negative affirmation. This happened to me. It's not pretty.
Look at yourself and the traits you want different. Maybe you want to be more orderly? Show love to people? Give a presentation without feeling like you're fainting? Write them down and what you would like instead. Don't push yourself by commiting to do everything. Just as much as you're comfortable with. Think of a dog for example. When a dog gets hit by a human he may just become aggressive or wimpering with his tail between his legs the next time he sees a human. Dogs are not aggressive or flightful from the start, but they learned that certain things are dangerous or scary. You teach an animal that something is not scary by slowly making it get used to the target. The same with humans, except that we're such complex creatures that sometimes it's hard to say exactly what makes you uncomfortable. This is literally what people mean with 'stepping outside your comfort zone'. It's not for nothing. It's not only for 'those bloody daredevils'. It's for a person to get used to situations. I had a fear in front of the class but I forced myself, after some proper therapy, to stand in front of a class to teach exams. Yes I was nervous. I had to calm myself several times, and I reflected on in afterwards. Well now, that actually went better than all the imaginative situations I had before! And even if it doesn't go well you can still write down WHAT you fked up and try to do better next time. Be mindful. Take steps.
Conclusion
It's a lot and I think I can add more but then it would be a book. I hope from this piece will bring structure to the whirlpool of information that's available. I'm not even sure 'regular' psychologists know this, as I've tried a bunch and they all start with something else. Every step is necessary, but some will work best only after the previous steps have been taken.
Now I'm tired. I'll write a proper summary after I see how this is recieved in the comments. Would love to hear feedback, questions, maybe even critique. Take care, you crazy diamond you.
Helpful sources:
Mindfulness training, meditation guides, Chakra healing (yes really)
Fysiotherapist on youtube to work on posture (you'll be surprised). I recommend Body Fix Exercises channel, to the point and effective.
Therapies: EMDR, Cognitive behavioural therapy, Somatic Experiencing
INFP guides on Personality Hacker
Attachment style podcasts (sorry mine was in Dutch)
Books / audiobooks
J. Peterson's 12 rules for life + many lectures on having a meaningful life. (whatever your stance or opinion on politics, his psychological knowledge is undeniable)
Lindsay C Gibson's Adult Children of Emotionally Immature Parents
M. Gladwell's Talking to Strangers
Mark Manson's The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck
Eckhart Tolle's The Power of Now
I'd suggest audio book because it moves me more, however I guess it's personal.

Duplex 1 BR 1BA, 630 square feet. Interior just completely remodeled, will be first tenant to enjoy! New windows, doors, cabinets, floors and all new finishes throughout.
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Bright and large living room. Large windows with pool and backyard views. Luxury Vinyl Plank Flooring, Ceiling Fan, Recessed Lighting.
Eat in Kitchen with ample storage and pantry. Vintage / Modern feel with tile flooring, brick accent wall and vintage hood. Under counter lighting. Built in Microwave. Brand new appliances include (all stainless): -Gas Cooktop with griddle. -Gas Oven with rotisserie. -French Door Refrigerator with ice maker. -Dishwasher / Garbage disposal Quartz counter tops Marble herringbone mosaic tile backsplash Designer light fixtures
Beamed Ceiling bedroom with attached full bath and walk in closet. Luxury modern texture carpeting with tile flooring in bathroom and closet. Bedroom has 3 mirrored pocket doors. Bathroom has tiled shower, Quartz vanity top and skylight.
Shared detached Laundry Room with new front loading washer and gas dryer. Laundry Room includes shared storage.
Additional storage space available.
Rent includes all utilities.
Off street parking.
Huge shared backyard with 40,000 gallon pool. Plenty of room for gardening, gathering and relaxing.
Minimum 12 month lease @ $3695per month.
Please message with inquiries. Thank you!

This might be long so bear with me: Also My apologies if this kind of post isn't allowed, other subreddits I've thought about asking this on haven't been active in a really long time.
I started this job as a health service assistant for my local school district back in October 2021, I got put on as a float where I would just go to schools and help out in the nurses office for students (I have a medical background for a career) initially I loved it. And around the end of the school year, I was mainly placed at one school which happened to be one of the more higher needs middle schools in the district. I really started to like this since I knew where I was going everyday, and the co-workers that I got to be with really grew on me. We had a great working relationship and we were on top of our stuff. (I should mention that my job title was a covid Health service assistant since part of my job was not only helping out nurses but also testing students when they were sick to see if they had covid).
Cut to summer of 2022, the job I was doing was opening up as a permanent job at the school I was mainly with for the spring. The nurse there REALLY wanted me to work there since she knew I had really good skills and I had a good relationship with the staff there. I quickly jumped at the opportunity, and they not only gave me the job, but gave me a pay raise and more hours (I was previously working only 6 hours a day for $24 per hour as a float, now I was getting paid around $28 for 8 hours per day, so I considered this a win). The job was going great in the fall, however as the school year has progressed, there have been some bad parts in the job (and school) that have become too much to bear.
first off: the nurse that wanted me ended up resigning early December, I thought it was due to her feeling overwhelmed by her schooling, but later found out she was part of a really bad scandal involving another students and drugs. And second off, our principle followed saying he was going on leave which was announced in mid-January (he hasn’t been back since and announced he won’t be back next year). And because of a combo of this, the admin at our school has been “misusing” my work space to put students in there when they need to cool down (due to behavioral issues or otherwise) and then saying they want to talk to those students, but then a whole hour an a half has passed and they still aren’t there. I’ve been fortunate in that the district has sent help everyday. I have a float nurse here who has been much more helpful, and another HSA that I get along with, but outside of those two people, it’s been a struggle. I don’t get the sense that the staff at the school think I exist, I’m usually the last one to know about things, and I’ve been scrutinized about some of my methods on how I’ve treated kids. It’s just ultimately making me not enjoy the job.
I’ve been told that 1. A new admin staff is coming in next year who is supposedly MUCH more strict on things and actually sounds like they care about their staff and 2. Because I’m classified as a covid HSA, with the pandemic basically being over they’re no longer renewing the job. However the new principle (who btw I’ve never spoken to face to face) wants to keep the HSA position for the school. So I’m hearing a bunch of different things from different people, on top of that the school is having an EOY celebration for next Friday morning, at the SAME time the health department in the district is having there’s (I found out about the school one today, where as the health department notified up a week and a half ago, so I’ll be going to that one). I’m REALLY on the fence about returning to the school/ district if I were to possibly be offered my job back or if I should start looking for something new.

The Hedgewitch of Huntington

(Fairy Dust - Book 1)

By J. S. Lynch

Chapter 1: Alex

Alex stared out the window of the Greyhound bus, watching the scenery change from urban to rural. She saw nothing but a blur of green and brown as if someone had smeared a dirty paintbrush across a canvas, with the occasional flash of red and yellow breaking the mottled monotony. Coupled with the drone from the bus’s AC and with the steady rumble of the tires on the blacktop, it would almost be enough to lull her to sleep. Except, she wouldn’t let herself fall asleep. The last time she dozed off, she had a nightmare: her mother being dragged away screaming by men in white coats. Technically, that was a memory, but at least she could force herself to not think about it while she was awake.
The scent of gasoline and sweat permeated the air. Alex’s mouth felt dry, and her saliva tasted bitter. She knew she had a bottle of water in her backpack, but it was too much of a hassle to dig it out from under her seat. Someone behind her sneezed.
Gross.
The air felt so stale and suffocating. She wished she could just open her window and get some fresh air. When she tried to pull it open earlier, the window jammed, leaving it just open enough to create a disproportionately annoying whistle for the rest of the trip. Alex was pretty sure the rock-hard seat digging into the back of her legs would leave a bruise. She felt trapped. She felt like a prisoner, being transferred to death row.
But maybe she deserved it; after all, this was her fault. It was her fault that her mom was gone; it was her fault that she was now on a bus to nowhere. Guilt warred with bitterness in Alex’s heart. On the one hand, she had just left behind everything she knew in Baltimore: her mother, her home, her school, her friends. On the other hand, it’s not like she had that many friends. Or a real home. Or a good school. Or a loving mother. But still, it was familiar. It was hers. And Alex had just flushed it all down the drain.
And now she was heading to Huntington, West Virginia, to live with a stranger. A stranger who just happened to be her biological father. A stranger who had abandoned Alex and her mother before she was even born. A stranger who had no idea who Alex really was, much less what he was getting himself into.
Alex glanced at the woman sitting next to her. Ms. Jones, a kind-faced woman with mocha skin and dark, curly hair that seemed to have a mind of its own, sat, sorting through some papers and humming to herself. She had a gentle voice and a friendly energy, but Alex didn’t trust her. Alex didn’t dislike her, she just couldn’t trust someone who acted as if they cared just “oh, so much.” But Ms. Jones was there to help her- she knew that. She was Alex’s caseworker and had been nothing if not kind to her since her mom had been committed.
Ever since I got her committed.
She stopped that train of thought immediately. There wasn’t much point, thinking about that now.
“Are you okay, Alex?” Ms. Jones asked, noticing Alex’s waning gaze.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Alex lied. She wasn’t, but it’s not like that mattered.
“We’ll be there soon,” Ms. Jones said, trying to sound reassuring. “Your father will be waiting for us at the bus station. I’m sure he’s very excited to meet you.”
“Yeah, sure he is,” Alex muttered under her breath.
Ms. Jones sighed and turned back to the folder on her lap, rifling through the papers.
“Here are some documents I will need you to look over,” she said, handing Alex a few papers. “They’re just formalities. You can look them over now, or we can go over them together once we meet up with your dad.”
Alex took the papers and scanned them briefly. They seemingly covered details about how the transfer would be expected to go and how CPS would follow up to ensure Alex was adjusting well and being taken care of. After skimming the papers for a few minutes and pretending to skim them even longer, Alex passed them back to Ms. Jones, who smiled and slipped them neatly into her folder. Alex gave her a tight-lipped smile in return.
“Thank you, Alex,” she said. “You’ve been very cooperative. I appreciate that.”
“No problem,” Alex said, shrugging and looking away.
Ms. Jones checked her watch and looked out the window.
“We should reach the rest stop in a few minutes,” she said. “Are you hungry? Do you want to get something to eat?”
“No, I’m okay,” Alex said, shaking her head. She couldn’t eat even if she wanted to. Her stomach felt like she had swallowed a brick of lead.
“Well, okay. Maybe later then,” Ms. Jones replied.
“Sure.”
Alex closed her eyes and pressed her head against the window, the pane of glass a little warmer than the air. Everything was just too overwhelming. There were too many noises, too many people. Too many thoughts and feelings were running through her head, not all of them her own. Occasionally, she would catch a glimpse, a fragment of a foreign thought or memory, or a quick stab of a random emotion. It was exhausting. It was painful. Alex wished they would all just shut up and leave her alone.
— — —
The intercom crackled, snapping Alex out of her stupor. The bus driver’s voice came through it, a rich and gravelly sound as if she had been smoking a pack a day since birth. It was weirdly comforting.
“Attention, passengers, we’ll be stopping soon to fuel up and let everyone stretch their legs. Please stay seated until the bus comes to a complete stop,” She intoned in a practiced-if-exasperated cadence. “We will be stopped for twenty-five minutes, and any passenger not on the bus by the time I close the doors will be left behind.”
As the driver spoke, Alex opened her eyes and looked around. They were pulling into the parking lot of some podunk truck stop in some nowhere-town.
“Would it have killed them to stop somewhere a little nicer?” Alex muttered to herself sarcastically.
As the bus rolled to a stop, Ms. Jones tapped Alex on the shoulder.
“Come on, Alex,” she said with a gentle smile. “Let’s go stretch our legs and get some fresh air.”
Alex nodded and followed her to the front of the bus. They stepped off the bus and into the gas station’s parking lot. It was a small, shabby place with a few pumps and a convenience store. An unlit sign read “Tony’s.”
Ms. Jones took out her wallet and handed Alex some money.
“Here, take this,” she said. “At least get yourself a snack or something to drink, okay? I’ll be right back.”
She then marched double-time toward the restroom, leaving Alex alone.
Alex looked at the money in her hand and felt a surge of bitterness. She didn’t need her pity or her charity- she didn’t want it. Stuffing the money in her pocket, she looked around at the people milling about the gas station: a couple of truck drivers filling up their tanks, a family with kids buying snacks at the store, a young woman with a dog sitting on a bench.
Alex wondered what their lives were like. Where were they going? Where did they come from? What sort of things did they care about? What kind of secrets were they keeping?
I could find out…
She glanced back toward the bus. The door was open and the driver was nowhere to be seen. Alex figured she would probably be smoking behind the store.
Walking toward the road, Alex stared at the cars and trucks rushing past along the highway. She could try to flag someone down and hitchhike. Or maybe she could pay someone at the gas station to give her a ride, to take her somewhere else. Somewhere far away from here. She retrieved the crumple bills Ms. Jones gave her from her pocket. Ten bucks. Alex sighed and put the money away. Maybe if she just made a run for it? Alex wondered how long it would take for Ms. Jones to come back.
Alex took another step toward the edge. Then she stopped, hesitating.
“How long would it be before anyone noticed I was gone? Would anyone even care?”
She stared down at the speeding traffic, the creeping realization that she had nowhere else to go pressing on her mind. She had nowhere to go, no one who cared about her, and there was nothing she could do. Nothing except go to Huntington and meet Noah.
She tried to swallow but found her mouth still dry. There wasn’t any point in trying to run away, not anymore.
Resigned, Alex walked back toward the store. She might as well use that ten bucks.
— — —
As she entered, she was greeted by a blast of cold air and a jingling bell. The store was small and cramped, with shelves full of junk food, drinks, magazines, cigarettes, and lottery tickets. A TV mounted on the wall played some news channel.
She wandered around the store, looking at the items with little interest. She didn’t want anything, but she figured that buying something would at least get Ms. Jones off her back. Maybe just a candy bar or a soda.
She picked up a chocolate bar and examined it. A thin film of dust covered the wrapper. It must have been older than she was. Dropping it, she moved to the coolers. She scanned the shelves, but nothing looked good.
She wandered the aisles, eventually picking up a magazine. It was one of those gossip rags that had pictures of celebrities and their scandals. Flipping through it, she saw a headline that read “Hollywood’s Hottest Couples: Who’s In and Who’s Out?” She rolled her eyes and tossed it back on the rack.
She felt the faintest hint of a prickling at the back of her mind, barely an itch. Someone was watching her. Looking up, she saw a girl standing at the other end of the aisle, near the counter. The girl was about Alex’s age, maybe a year or two older. She had long blonde hair that fell in waves over her shoulders, blue eyes that sparkled like diamonds, and a perfect smile that showed off her white teeth. She wore a pink tank top that hugged her curves, denim shorts that showed off her legs, and flip-flops that matched her top. She had a silver necklace around her neck and a gold bracelet on her wrist. She looked like she had stepped out of one of those magazines Alex had just discarded.
The girl was holding a bottle of water and a pack of gum. She smiled at Alex and said, “Hi.”
Alex managed a meek “Hi” before quickly walking away, her cheeks burning red.
She felt like she had just seen everything she wasn’t, someone who was beautiful, confident, and happy.
Alex looked down at herself and felt ashamed. She wore an old T-shirt that was too big, jeans that were too tight, and sneakers that were too worn. Her face was plain; her short brown hair was messy and dull and desperately needed to be cut. She wore no makeup or jewelry except for a cheap watch that barely worked.
She headed towards the restroom at the back of the store. She needed to get away from everyone and everything for a while.
The women's restroom was occupied, so she slipped into the men's room instead, locking the door behind her. The room was small and dirty, with a sink, a toilet, a mirror, and a trash can. There was graffiti on the walls and stains on the floor. It reeked of piss and 409.
She felt exhaustion and despair wash over her and walked over to the sink and turned on the faucet. She splashed water on her face and stared into the mirror. Tired, brown eyes stared back at her. She saw a girl who looked lost and powerless. A girl who had no control over her life. A girl who had no future.
She hated what she saw.
She wished she could change it.
She wished she could change everything.
— — —
Back on the bus, she sat quietly, listening to music on her iPod Nano. It was three more hours before they reached Huntington. Ms. Jones tried making small talk a few times, but Alex wasn’t in the mood. The minutes, hours passed. Alex woke with a start when Ms. Jones shook her, not realizing she had even fallen asleep. At least she didn’t have the dream this time. Small blessing.
“Sorry, Alex, I didn’t mean to startle you. We’re here,” came Ms. Jones’ voice, muffled through Alex’s headphones.
Alex stopped her music, got up, and followed Ms. Jones off the bus, resigned to whatever fate awaited her. The bus station was small and crowded, with only a few benches and ticket counters. The air was thick with the smell of exhaust fumes and stale coffee. Alex looked around at all the people scurrying about. She idly wondered which one of them was her father. Obviously, not the angry mom arguing with the clerk. Not the little boy crashing toy cars together at her feet. Hopefully, it wasn’t the raggedy, older gentleman sleeping with his head on his suitcase. She figured it probably wasn’t the black guy in his early twenties playing games on a DS.
She wondered what he would look like, what he sounded like, what he acted like. She almost started to wonder if he would be anything like her mom but stopped herself, digging her nails into her palms.
Ms. Jones took out her phone and loaded a picture of Alex’s father. She scanned the crowd for his face, looking anxious. The older woman showed the picture to Alex and asked her to help look for him.
A wave of disappointment crashed into Alex when she saw it. He was a middle-aged man with brown hair and blue eyes. He had a scruffy beard and a crooked smile. He wore a work jacket and a faded blue Baltimore Ravens baseball cap. He looked like a loser.
“See him yet?” Ms. Jones asked after a few minutes of searching.
“Nope,” Alex said, shaking her head.
“Well, he was supposed to meet us here at the station,” Ms. Jones said, looking displeased. “-holding a sign with your name on it.”
Alex looked around again but didn’t see anyone with a sign. “Maybe he’s late,” Alex said, secretly hoping he wouldn’t show.
“Maybe,” Ms. Jones said, sounding doubtful.
Ms. Jones sighed and put away her phone. She put her hand on Alex’s shoulder with a gentle squeeze.
“Hey,” she said softly, “how are you feeling? Are you okay? Are you nervous?”
Alex shrugged off Ms. Jones’ hand and looked away.
“I'm fine,” she said, maybe a little too irritably.
Ms. Jones frowned and tried again.
“Alex, I know this is hard for you. Believe me. I know you’ve been through a lot. But this is a chance for you to start over. To have a family again.”
Something in Alex snapped.
“A family!? Do you really think I’m gonna live a Brady Bunch life with this guy? He left before I was even born! He didn’t even know I existed until, what? A few weeks ago?”
Ms. Jones opened her mouth to say something, but Alex cut her off.
“Just stop it,” she said bitterly. “I don’t wanna hear your promises about how I’m gonna have this perfect fairytale life from now on, okay? I’m just so sick of everyone lying to me!”
Ms. Jones closed her mouth and looked hurt.
“Alex,” she said softly. “I’m not lying to you. Please, just trust me on that. I won’t promise that everything is gonna be okay from now on ‘cause I have no idea how it’ll turn out. But you’re one of the toughest kids I know, Alex, and I know how much you’ve been hurt. You deserve a chance to start over and have an easy life, and this guy might be able to give you that. He signed the paperwork saying he wanted to be your parent, so can you at least give him a chance to try?”
Alex felt her rage falter like a rug had been pulled out from beneath her. It was weird to hear Ms. Jones speak so honestly, and it had disarmed her. Alex felt a little embarrassed- ashamed, really.
“I’m… I’m sorry,” Alex sputtered out with a sigh. “You’re right.”
“And if he turns out to be a jerk, I’ll let you help me kick his ass, okay?” Ms. Jones said with a conspiratorial smile. “We got a deal?”
“Deal,” replied Alex, with her own small smile.
“Now, where the hell is he?” huffed Ms. Jones as she began to look around again.
“Maybe he died,” Alex said with a wicked smirk and a shrug.
Ms. Jones grimaced and shook her head. She checked her phone, noticing a missed call from her office. She hurriedly punched in a phone number and hit the call button. A staticky voice picked up on the other end. Alex couldn’t hear what the other agent was saying, but she could tell by Ms. Jones’ expression that it wasn’t good news.
The older woman frowned and began to pace. Alex only heard Ms. Jones’s side of the conversation, “What? How? Why? Oh, gosh. What do we do now? Another placement? Okay. Alright. Thank you, I’ll talk to her..”
She ended the call and looked at Alex with a sad and sorry smile.
“Alex,” she said, taking a deep breath. “I have some bad news.”

Chapter 2: Noah

A hateful sound, like that of a tone-deaf bell with a personal vendetta, jolted Noah awake. He shot up and immediately regretted it when a searing headache threatened to split his head open. Vertigo overtook him, and he had to fight down… whatever he had eaten last night. A barbed wire and sour milk stew? That was his best guess, based on the pain in his gut. He heaved. With his eyes shut so tight that it started to hurt, Noah took a very, very deep breath.
And then another.
And then another.
Slowly, he tried to open his eyes. Why am I on the ground? Noah blinked away the spots, rotating his head at a glacial pace. When his eyes finally focused, he saw Doris, a plump, older woman who worked at the-
Shit.
He finally noticed the metal bars separating him and Doris. Judging by the way she swiveled her head and smiled, Doris had noticed him noticing the bars. She took a satisfied sip from her big, metal mug. She had a glossy name badge hanging from a Bengals lanyard that read “Dispatcher.” Noah squinted when it caught the light.
“Heeyy, you. You finally awake? Get enough beauty rest?” She asked in her lilting, sing-song tone, which Noah learned long ago meant she was being condescending.
“Doris. What the hell happened?” Noah asked as he gently shifted to a sitting position. “What time is it?”
“It’s just after nine.” She answered. Then with a snort, she added: “And you got your ass beat, that’s what happened.”
“That doesn’t sound like me,” Noah said with a small laugh.
Then the amusement left her eyes. A frown settled on her face as she tilted her head ever so slightly upward. “What the hell, Noah? Why are you here?”
“I- I don’t know,” Noah shook his head. Bad idea. “What do you mean?”
“What I mean is: you’re a thirty-four-year-old man, not some frat boy, so why the hell are you getting into bar fights?”
Oooohh…
The previous night’s events slowly returned to him, meandering through his hazy mind. He had gone out drinking, and a fight broke out. He had been hit, so he hit back. And then he got hit again. And again. Which probably explained why everything hurt so much.
“It wasn’t my fault- some asshole punched me. I was just defending myself.”
“Yeah, I know. Bill and them got the security footage about two hours ago,” Doris huffed, seeming annoyed.
Bill was the local police chief, a pudgy, straight-laced kinda guy. Noah didn’t strictly dislike Bill. He knew the man was just doing his job, but he also knew he and Bill wouldn’t be sharing a milkshake with two straws anytime soon.
Doris continued: “They watched the video, took a statement from anyone sober enough to talk, and booked the guys who started the brawl. Everyone else is getting processed out.”
“What about me?” Asked Noah as he wiggled, trying to crack his spine.
“You’re toward the bottom of the list, and they’re short-staffed today, so it’s gonna be awhile.” Her demeanor softened. After a short pause, she sighed and added: “I’ll let ‘em know you’re awake. Someone will grab you and take your statement.”
“Thanks, Doris. Have I ever told you how much I love and appreciate you?” Noah teased.
Doris frowned, and Noah got the sinking feeling he had just made a mistake.
“Didn’t you have something important to do today?” She asked with a chiding undertone.
“What? No. I don’t think-” Then the memory resurfaced and hit Noah like a brick.
Shit.
“Shit.” Blurted Noah as he scrambled to his feet and to the bars. “Shit. Shitshitshitshitshit! Doris, I fucked up. You gotta let me outta here!”
“You know I can’t do that, Noah,” Doris said, flinching when Noah grabbed the bars. “Why? What’s going on?”
“My kid! I was supposed to pick up my kid today!” Noah shouted. He slowly sank to the ground, muttering to himself. “Oh, my god. Doris. Oh my god, this isn’t good. I’m so screwed.”
— — —
Noah stared down the clock on the wall, and the clock stared back, ticking, unblinking. A tiny part of Noah’s mind acknowledged how this felt like one of those stand-offs from old cowboy movies. If the rest of his mind hadn’t been focusing on stopping him from blowing a hole in the wall and running away, he probably would have been screaming his head off, trying to get someone to let him out.
Instead, Noah sat and waited. And waited. Watching the seconds tick slower just to spite him. He was seated on the bench, his elbows resting on his knees and his hands clasped in front of his mouth.

Ingredients for the French Toast Recipe
Here’s the beauty of French toast—it doesn’t require anything fancy. To make the classic version of this dish, you’ll need:
1 loaf of day-old bread (preferably brioche or challah) 4 large eggs 1 cup of milk 2 tablespoons of granulated sugar 1 teaspoon of pure vanilla extract 1/2 teaspoon of ground cinnamon Butter, for frying Maple syrup and powdered sugar, for serving
Step-by-Step Instructions
Making French toast is a simple process that involves soaking the bread in an egg mixture and then frying it until golden brown. Here’s how to do it:
Slice your bread into 1-inch thick slices. If your bread is fresh, leave the slices out on a wire rack for a few hours to dry out; this prevents your french toast from being soggy in the middle.
In a large bowl, whisk together the eggs, milk, sugar, vanilla extract, and cinnamon.
Dip each slice of bread into the egg mixture, making sure both sides are well coated. Let the excess drip off, then place the slices on a separate plate.
Heat a large skillet or griddle over medium heat. Add a knob of butter and let it melt, covering the surface of the pan.
Add the soaked bread slices to the pan. Cook for 2-3 minutes on each side, or until golden brown.
Serve your French toast hot, dusted with powdered sugar and drizzled with maple syrup. You can also top with fruits, flavored syrups, or anything else that sounds yummy!
If you would like the print out of this recipe it is available at: https://www.handycookbook.com/french-toast-recipe/

Ingredients for the French Toast Recipe
Here’s the beauty of French toast—it doesn’t require anything fancy. To make the classic version of this dish, you’ll need:
1 loaf of day-old bread (preferably brioche or challah) 4 large eggs 1 cup of milk 2 tablespoons of granulated sugar 1 teaspoon of pure vanilla extract 1/2 teaspoon of ground cinnamon Butter, for frying Maple syrup and powdered sugar, for serving
Step-by-Step Instructions
Making French toast is a simple process that involves soaking the bread in an egg mixture and then frying it until golden brown. Here’s how to do it:
Slice your bread into 1-inch thick slices. If your bread is fresh, leave the slices out on a wire rack for a few hours to dry out; this prevents your french toast from being soggy in the middle.
In a large bowl, whisk together the eggs, milk, sugar, vanilla extract, and cinnamon.
Dip each slice of bread into the egg mixture, making sure both sides are well coated. Let the excess drip off, then place the slices on a separate plate.
Heat a large skillet or griddle over medium heat. Add a knob of butter and let it melt, covering the surface of the pan.
Add the soaked bread slices to the pan. Cook for 2-3 minutes on each side, or until golden brown.
Serve your French toast hot, dusted with powdered sugar and drizzled with maple syrup. You can also top with fruits, flavored syrups, or anything else that sounds yummy!

Hey all,
Looking to see what solutions people have done or came across for vertical rack equipment storage. I'm tired of storing equipment vertically only to have it fall over when we go to grab something.
I've seen custom build storage in the past that is generally all for 1RU equipment, but there has to be an off the shelf solution for this rather than only custom build type stuff.
Has anyone came across modular storage that can be changed from 1RU to 2RU to 3RU etc?
Thanks!!!

My fingers drummed on the cold steel table in my specialized prison cell, my daily dose of blood having not been sent to me. A dry thirst burned in my throat, my ruby eyes dilating at the vampire in a cheap business suit plopping down across from me. Playing with my amethyst waves, he traced his slender finger along the nape of his neck. His ruby eyes glistened with excitement, his slicked back ivory hair reminded me of everything I hated about the government.
“Pretty hungry, Morticia Deathbite?” He taunted cruelly, hatred burning in my eyes. “I have a deal for you. The government will exonerate you of all your charges if you agree to become my wife for a mission. There is one catch, you have to let me bite you. Oh forgive my manners. I am Agent Stanton Lifewick, a member of Night Squad. The vampires in the program work to hunt down serial killers that the police can’t seem to get. Will you join me?” Growling through gritted teeth, my inky lips curled into a defiant snarl. Spitting in his face, wicked laughter rumbled in his throat.
“You can rot in hell. You guys put me in this jail cell for only drinking the blood of serial killers. Fuck you.” I retorted venomously, his hands wiping away the spit. “You can leave now, you rotten bastard!” Snatching the collar of my orange jumpsuit, he yanked me close to his face. The corner of his lips twitched with fury, a raw tension thickening between us. Shooting daggers into each other's eyes, my elbow slammed into his face. Crashing back, I sprinted out the door. Red light bathed the concrete halls, a shrill alarm blaring in my ears. Unlocking the other criminals on my way out, the distraction would be my way out. Security guards attempted to stop me, one punch smashing them into the wall. A Cheshire Cat grin spread cheek to cheek at the open gate, my bare feet smashing through. Feeling the pale moonlight on my skin pleased me, Stanton called for me to stop. Flipping him off, I leapt into the trees. Hopping from branch to branch, my heart stopped at him blocking my path. Straightening up, claws extended from my black fingernails. Cracking my neck, he pulled out a gun with holy water soaked wooden bullets.
“I can’t let you escape.” He snapped hotly, a bead of sweat dripping off of his brow. “Join me now or I’ll shoot you.” Putting my hands up in the air as a dare, maniacal laughter burst from my lips. Shrugging my shoulders, he watched me crack my fingers one by one. Leaning forward, something was stopping him. My face fell at the sound of guns clicking underneath me, the sheer amount of agents scaring me. Placing my hands behind my back, my claws receded back into their place.
“Just take me back so I can fucking die.” I grumbled under my breath, Stanton putting his gun away. Leaping closer to me, even my speed wouldn’t allow me to dodge all of their bullets. Standing behind me, his fangs grazed the nape of my neck. His hot breath bathed my neck, the agents’ fingers all ready to shoot me. Too many black suits, I thought irritably to myself. Freedom and blood was all I desired, the bastards stripping both from me.
“Just fucking say yes, you idiot!” He growled huskily in my ear, his hand sliding down the small of my waist. “You get freedom and all the blood you need from me.” His invisible strength threatened to break my back, my body trembling in his hold. Something about it dulled my hatred for him. Concern flashed in his eyes for a moment, tears welling up in my eyes. Peeking into his soul, a white aura surrounded him. Bowing my head in shame, my bangs hid my eyes. Live a life alone in prison or experience life again? Did the world hate me as much as I hated it?
“Fine.” I uttered in with defeat, a sickening dread bubbling in my gut. “You win but you better treat me like one of you. I refuse to be a slave and a prisoner.” Sinking his fangs into my neck, the disgusting sound of him drinking my blood drowned out the agents putting their guns back. Inky bats flew across my breasts, a solid black band forming on his finger. An indescribable bond formed between us, silent tears streaming down my cheeks. This contract reminded me of how my first master used me to kill innocent people for defying the church, his gentle touch scaring me out of my trance.
“Are you okay?” He whispered kindly in my ear, the sudden shift in his personality ringing the alarm bells. “I am going to get you to the car and we will sign a marriage contract to get our license. I don’t bite. Well, unless I have to. I am aware you have been alive since medieval times so the concept of living off your mate’s blood is new. It actually makes you ten times stronger. Imagine that power coursing through you.” Tossing me over his shoulder, he jumped off the branch.
“Operation Get Hitched is a success!” He announced with a warm smile, a tender blush rising to my cheeks. “Go home to your families.” Carrying me to the car, my waves bounced up and down with every step. Sitting me down in the passenger seat of a generic black armored SUV, my hair blew back as he slammed the door shut. Sliding into his seat, he pulled out a pile of papers from the center console. Passing me the pile, I knew the drill. Signing on the dotted lines, a knock stole his breath away. Rolling down the window, a fellow agent stamped the paper. Dropping two velvet boxes into my lap, the papers fluttered in the other agent’s hands. Closing his window, he held my hand up. Opening up the closest box to him, he slid on an onyx band of twisted branches. Grasping the remaining box, my jaw dropped at the matching band. Sliding on his finger shakily, surprise rounded his eyes. Thorns dug into my fingers, his face showing the same fate for him. Sniffing the ring, it reeked of an eternal curse. Fantastic, we were bound together forever.
“Can I ask you a question?” I choked out awkwardly, a warm gaze falling on me. “Why me? I am not the only vampire there. I can think of s-” Putting his finger up in the air, the ring glittered in the pale moonlight. Grabbing my shoulder, any cockiness he had was gone. It almost seemed to be a mask in front of the boys, his private personality seeming naturally sweet.
“I picked you because I saw your beautiful face in a pile of files. Also you are the oldest vampire alive, so that helped. I find you rather amazing. I don’t agree with you killing all those serial killers but you had to eat. Am I right?” He mused tenderly, is crooked grin stopped time as the urge to kiss him dominated my mind. “How about you drink something? I had them starve you for a couple of days. I am sorry about that.” Guiding my head to the nape of his neck, his vein throbbed violently. Biting him now would seal the deal from my side, the scent of a summer day wafted up my nose. Piercing his tender flesh, my pupils enlarged at the first sip, the sweet taste of lemonade coated my throat. Wrapping my arms around his neck, short gasps poured from his lips. Drinking my fill, a satisfied sigh flowed freely from me. He was right, your mate’s blood tasted like nothing else. Scarlet blood stained the corner of his lips, my hands cupping his face. Pressing my lips against his sensually, his arm slid down to the small of my waist. Refusing to let me go, his tongue danced in my mouth. Time stopped, our heartbeats were all I could hear. Releasing him from the spell, he sat back in a daze with a goofy grin. Scarlet burned his cheeks, my impulsive behavior having landed me in some hot water for sure.
“Sorry for that.” I apologized profusely, hoping that he wouldn’t hate me for acting on my inner thoughts. “I get a little impu-” Kissing me back with twice as much passion, my body arched towards him. The seat belt was the only thing that held me back, his heart beating faster than mine. Another knock interrupted him, a flustered Stanton rolled the window down.
“What!” He yelled sharply, the ivory haired female’s ruby eyes flitting between me and him. “Selena, you need to give your older brother privacy.” Her petite five two figure didn’t scream power but boy did her intense color changing aura. Sticking out her tongue, a deeper scarlet colored his cheeks. Blinking a couple of times, she leaned into the car.
“I am Selena Dogood, his baby sister. You must be the infamous Morticia he never stopped talking about. Honestly, he never shut up.” She teased lightly, her short leather dress fluttering in the breeze. “Would you like to h-” Covering her mouth with his hand, a stern gaze shut her offer down.
“I would but I need to get to the hell I am calling suburbia. You know the reason I married her in the first place. They suspect the serial killer is living in that godforsaken town.” He informed her briskly, cursing under his breath. “I might like her a bit. Do you have her clothes? People are going to stare if I bring her out in a prison jumpsuit.” Dropping a silky emerald dress into his lap, a horrendous flashback of the church dressing me in lingerie for special guests to view haunted me. Horrendous slurs had been carved into my skin, the people throwing rotten tomatoes at me. Clutching my chest, a tight embrace snapped me back to reality. Selena put her hands up into the air, walking back to her own SUV. Kissing the top of my head, the nature of our bond made this moment unbearably sweet. His slender six foot seven frame towered over me by a good foot, thus his embrace felt like Heaven. Shaking my head, I shoved him off. Undoing my seat belt, he turned his back as I peeled off the jumpsuit. Tossing it into the back, I tugged on the sweetheart neckline dress. The silk felt soft against my skin, the material a far better cry from the rough cotton of my previous outfit. The straps failed to cover the number the prison had branded me with, my fingers tracing the faint numbers. Not seeing what I did wrong, the people should have applauded me. Furthermore, I needed to eat.
“You look beautiful.” He commented pleasantly, his eyes falling on the numbers branded on my chest. “They didn’t tell me that they did that to the first vampires in prison. I promise to make your life better. Can you cook?” His question threw me off as the engine roared to life, the trees turning into a sea of houses. Rolling my eyes, most of them were close enough to pass a damn cup of sugar through the bathroom window. The ranches nauseated me further, my heart sinking at the car pulling up to a flamingo pink ranch. My face scrunched in disgust, my eyes falling on a red headed woman with piercing blue eyes. Her curls bounced around her shoulders, her ample cleavage hanging out of a tight tank top. Pouting in my direction, something seemed off about her. Perhaps it was because her aura was darker than the bottom of the ocean. Hopping out to the car, his hand ripped open the car door. Sliding on the shoes, a scowl planted itself on her lips.
“Who’s Shirley Temple across the street?” I inquired softly, his eyes rolling. “She seems to like you.” Rolling his eyes, a wicked grin spread cheek to cheek as he rose to his feet. Pinning me to the car, his lips kissed mine hungrily. Time stopped, the sound of the night fading to the background. Releasing me from his spell, her death glare sent chills up my spine. Lifting my finger, he purposely showed off our wedding rings. Glee glittered in his eyes at her obvious bewilderment, he flipped her off on the way into the house. The outside must have been deceptive because all sorts of taxidermy lined the Victorian style wallpaper, the dark wooden bookshelves were lined with first editions of books. Sitting me down on what was his original emerald velvet couch, my hands rubbing the carved bats on the armrest. Crossing my legs, my eyes fell on the coffin coffee table. Laying down, sweet slumber stole me away.
Snapping awake, a flurry of impatient knocks frightened the shit out of me. The bright sunshine blinded me, a fluke in my DNA allowing me not to burn in the sun. Rushing to the door, the redhead from the night before knocked once more. Opening the door, I leaned on the door frame. Horror rounded her eyes at my porcelain skin and black lips, her perfect ass shoving her way in. Following her into an all black kitchen, she called out Stanley. Cocking my brow in response, a messy haired Stanton wandered into the hall. Defiance glittered in his eyes, my eyes taking in the same emerald wallpaper from the living room now lining the hall.
“You are a cockadoody for your disrespectful behavior from last night.” She complained bitterly, her eyes snapping back to me. “Did you find her on an albino dating site? Why haven’t I seen her?” Rubbing his bare muscular chest, he examined her pristine white dress and black sun hat. My heart fluttered at the sight of him, part of me wishing he wouldn’t slick his hair back anymore. A matching branded set of numbers sat on his chest, curiosity twinkling in my eyes.
“Why don’t you leave, Susie?” He asked politely, popping a white tablet into his mouth. “I need you and your husband to leave me alone today.” Narrowing her eyes in his direction, he motioned towards the door. Something seemed off with her, her aura sickening me. Cupping my mouth, he noticed my reaction to her presence. Not only that, the scent of her blood reminded me of a corpse. Walking up next to her, I pushed Stanton out of the way.
“What is your name?” I demanded viciously, folding my arms across my chest. True love lit up in his eyes for the first time, the crack of her slap stunning me into a temporary silence. Her chest huffed up and down, my crazed grin infuriating her further. Pinning me to the wall, I stole the opportunity to peek into her soul. A shadow blocked me from seeing into it, my face falling.
“I am Susan Smith, the leader of the neighborhood watch. I am watching you. I am a black belt by the way.” She warned icily, my unimpressed expression peeving her off further. “What is so funny?” Knowing that she would charge me if I touched her, I cleared my throat.
“Hello to you then.” I chirped cheerfully, turning on my people-friendly smile. “I think you should go now. I work the night shift and you and your creepy neighborhood watch can go fuck yourself. You can keep your hungry eyes off my husband.” Raising her hand to strike me, I caught it mid slap. Lowering it to her side, my grip on her wrist refused to let her go.
“Whatever. My husband is hotter than yours and the mayor of the town. I wouldn’t touch him with a ten foot pole.” She returned haughtily, my fingers letting her go. “We don’t want you Gothic freaks in this perfect little slice of Heaven.” Cocking my brow at her words, it was obvious she liked my husband. A slightly overweight bald man in a pair of khakis and a blue button up shirt stepped out to search for his wife, his chocolate brown eyes falling on us. The name Richard stood out to me, a defiant glow coming over my face.
“He’s hot if slightly overweight and bald with a side of khaki’s is in fashion.” I taunted cruelly, watching her face grow red as the fire hydrant outside. Stomping off, she slammed the door behind her. Dusting off my dress, he pulled me in for a warm embrace. The foot difference made me feel pleasantly small, the feeling of his muscles against my face causing a tender blush to rise to my cheeks. This was an emotion that I haven’t felt in a while, the desire to give in to my nightly urges raged. Pushing him away, I folded my arms across my chest. Hurt dimmed his eyes, his hands running through his hair.
“We don’t have to do any of that until you are ready. We do have to get ready to go to the grocery. I just took my sunblock pill.” He explained happily, turning to walk back into his room. Hugging him from behind, my outcome was to alleviate his hurt. Freezing in his tracks, he spun on his heels. Hiding his wet eyes underneath his hair, he barely responded as I wiped away his tears. Pushing me away, a glass shattered on the worn wooden floor the moment I hit it. Shivering on the floor, I had tried too hard. Rushing into his room, I chased after him.
Fighting the tears, his years in prison had done a number on him. Sliding into the room in the nick of time, he shoved an onyx lace baby doll dress into my arms with a pair of chunky heeled boots. Stomping into the bathroom, he had his outfit hanging off of his arm. Changing quickly, he needed something to cheer him up. Crashing into the kitchen, the bottom of my dress fluttered with each step. Noting the dark roast coffee beans, coffee was the only thing vampires could taste beside blood. Humming to myself, I began the process of making him a latte. Smoothing out my bell sleeves, it was time to add the milk. Pouring the foaming milk into his coffee, he wandered in with a grumpy look on his face. My breath hitched at his black and white striped button up shirt over a pair of black shorts, his worn converses bringing him down to what age we looked like. A silver cross dangled from his left ear, his eyes falling on the apology coffee.
“I am sorry. It has been a long time since someone touched me. It is a tale I will tell you another time. Did you make that for me?” He queried with a tired smile, taking the clear cup in his trembling hands. “Did they teach you how to make this in jail?” Nodding silently, he took a sip. His eyes widened at how tasty it was, the cup was empty in a couple of minutes.
“Are we watching the people at the grocery store?” I questioned shakily, afraid to speak. “Won’t we stand out?” Shaking his head, he ruffled the top of my head. Kissing the top of my head, he offered me his elbow. Hooking mine around his, he guided me out to the car. Helping me in, we were soon heading to the local grocery store. The worn sign flickered against a faded tan facade, the housewives streamed in and out. An irritated Susan rushed past his car.
“We do but I have lived here for months, so they are used to it. If you wore pink it would be more alarming.” He whispered gruffly into my ears, those damn urges coming up again. “Trust me. We are the town freaks anyway with being “albinos”. The air quotes added a sense of humor to the moment, his soft chuckle telling me that he was fine. Helping me out, the wives all waved at him. Jealousy flashed in my eyes, his fingers intertwined with mine. While he received a bunch of smiles, I received death glare after death glare. Bright lights blinded me, the constant conversations caused my ears to pin back. The serial killer could be among these people, the very thought exhilarating.
“This can be a bit much for your first day out of jail. I would have left you at home but our bond won’t allow it.” He assured me sweetly, placing my hands on the cart. Holding me from behind, he rested his chin on my head. Talking for a minute to the butcher, a special symbol on his neck informed me that he was an ally. Susan rolled up next to me, one of her lackeys boxing me in. Leaning on the end of my cart, she cast insult after insult at me. Ignoring her words, a familiar face stole my attention. His wrinkles matched the father’s from back in the medieval times, a pair of sage eyes meeting mine. He smelled human, a Celtic symbol glowed on his neck. Susan waved her hands in front of me, a strained huh escaping my lips. His black priest’s uniform sickened me, clammy sweat soaking my skin.
“Did you hear me!” Susan demanded childishly, holding out an invitation. “This is something we call a book club.” Seconds from crumbling it up, Stanton snatched it from her fingers. Pecking me on the lips, she rolled her eyes in a huff. Father Rowell had disappeared into the crowd, my husband carrying on the conversation for me.
“I have to go to the bathroom!” I blurted out awkwardly, leaping over the carts. Crashing through the people, I skidded to a stop in front of Rowell. Reaching his hand out to me, a bolt of lightning zapped him the moment our skin touched. Clearing his throat, he pointed to the automatic doors.
“Shall we go outside?” He suggested with a sly grin, my ankle failing me at the wrong time. Crashing onto my ass, he snapped his finger. A rotting church towered over us, so many questions rested on the tip of my tongue. One pew remained, the wood groaning as we sat down on it. Why did this feel warmer than before?
“Are you the serial killer, you old man?” I interrogated intensely, his head shaking. Sliding me a Celtic spell book with the proper page open, the spell he was using only required the sacrifice of a lamb. Leaning back, he touched the glowing symbol on his neck. I guess it all added up.
“It’s not me. This damn thing prevents me from killing anyone. I turned it around, I swear. “ He attempted to assure me, my look of disbelief not pleasing him. “I am sorry for using you. You seemed so lost and I was lost by the propaganda they were spreading. The church today is much more honest. I can be a pair of ears for you. Will that help you out?” The church bell rang, the wood quaking underneath my boots, his eyes allowing me to peer into his soul. The white aura was enough to convince me, my hand touching his.
“Besides the killing, you did everything right.” I admitted sheepishly, allowing him to smile subtly. “You found me after one of my bloody massacres and still hid me from the church.” Snow drifted aimlessly, his palm catching a couple of snowflakes. Watching them melt in his palms, he turned to me.
“Do you remember when I found you? Ruby painted the snow but you looked at me with the biggest plea for help. You were but a ten year old child with fangs in my eyes.” He commented in a fatherly tone, both us leaning back to watch the snow fall. Resting our hands on our flat stomachs, he let out a soft chuckle
“I am surprised you helped me after finding out I was the daughter of the first vampire.” I laughed gently, his hand reaching for mine. “I got married yesterday. I am sorry that I went to prison. I must have disappointed you with that tidbit.” Taking my hand, he examined the ring. Snapping his fingers, we were back at the grocery store. Dropping a card into my palm, he shoved his hands into his pocket.
“I came to seek you out. The killer is among your little area I call Hell. Good luck with that marriage.” He called out as he walked to a waiting car, Stanton coming out with a bag of groceries. Peeking into the bag, it was two bags of coffee. Providing the perfect distraction, the contacts amusing me.
“It really looks like we eat.” I joked tenderly, nudging his shoulder. “Can we go home now?” Winking in my direction, his arm curled around my waist. Flipping me the invitation, his next words pissed me off.
“You are going to that book club tomorrow. Play nice and try not to stand out too much. The trick to winning Susie over is through the love of reading. As I recall, you had a cell full of the latest books.” He ordered sharply, rubbing his chin. “I know you read them all. Can you handle that tomorrow?” Whispering something in his ears, a devilish grin spread cheek to cheek.

I swear. Even when I do a perfect dash jump and avoid the the punching machines.
Half the time they just DONT fling up high enough with enough momentum to reach the top and make the bouncer. And you just wind up falling back down.
It doesn't matter if I make it to the center of the fan, or slightly off center. If I touch the bottom of the fan first and jump. Or if I make it mid way.
It just doesn't always work and can cost you precious seconds to make it to the next state. Or having to try your luck with RNG all over again.
Its probably the only final out of these crazy hard 4 rounds I can beat but man its so annoying sometimes. I would have preferred if they had made the fan obstacle not as high to jump over and maybe one more mini obstacle afterwards to get through to do it. But the way it is now is just so annoying to play through =___=

Part 2 of 2: All constructive criticism is welcome and the more specific, the better.

Bringing a pitchfork to an android fight

This leaves the ruled with the sole strategic deterrent of their collective potential for violence. The deterrent is twofold:

1. Their potential as agents of coercive violence on the part of intra-class competitors
2. Their collective power as a ‘mob’ or mass movement that if necessary can overwhelm through numbers (a la Bastille)

In societies, where the institutions of legitimacy are hereditary, intra-class rivalries are more likely given the largely unconditional and irrevocable nature of legitimacy conferred by birth. No effective mechanism can remove class membership without challenging the legitimacy of the institution conferring membership.
Privileges and special treatment are often accorded to members of the same class in external societies with matching institutions of legitimacy. These privileges can even hold in wartime where either special treatment during capture or prohibitions against shedding ‘royal’ or ‘noble’ blood set class members apart from the ruled populace of either society.
This irrevocability of status limits the ability of a class to neutralize rogue members. Even if rejected by other class members, rogue members are often able to still garner support internally and externally based on their claim to legitimacy as in the case of James Francis Edward Stuart.
This inherent instability results in the courting of the ruled by competing members of the ruling elite as agents of violence. It can be as gross as the direct financing of the Clodian and Milonian gangs by Caesar and his opponents or the actual bidding war for the Roman Imperial purple by Didius Julianus. Or it can be as professional as purchasing the services of condottieri during the Italian city-state conflicts. The commonality is gathering enough of the ruled to bludgeon other members of the ruling elite into submission.
The 20th century saw the beginning of the end for hereditary institutions of legitimacy. The Chinese and Russian Communist revolutions as well as the ascent of Nazism in Germany represented the rise to power of ideologies that were fatally antagonistic to the aristocracy) and royalty. The post World II breakup of the British Empire - especially in India - saw the removal of more hereditary rulers as former colonies coalesced into independent modern nation-states. Even the former imperial leader saw radical institutional shakeups. The Labour Party’s victory in the 1945 elections started Great Britain’s transition from hereditary legitimacy as well culminating in the House of Lords Act 1999 and its following updates. In less than 100 years, a substantial portion of humanity transitioned their institutions of legitimacy and the basis of ruling elite power.

The end of elite intra-class conflict

Modernity has seen the irrevocable legitimacy of birth and descent replaced with the conditional legitimacy of intellectual compliance with the ruling elite’s philosophy or ideology. This phenomenon is most easily discerned in the Soviet Union, Communist China and other formecurrent Communist countries.
Elites were subject to constant surveillance and purged for even small infractions of ideological deviation. Surveillance was pervasive - so pervasive that in East Germany it was estimated that there was one Stasi (secret police) informer for every 6.5 citizens. Once identified as deviants, purged members were de-legitimized prior to removal in tightly controlled trials where ‘extracted’ confessions were presented as damning evidence of ideological nonconformity. This ‘delegitimization’ was so effective that popular uprisings on behalf of purged members were/are virtually nonexistent. With no legitimate claim or access to energy in the system, the purged members are rendered powerless to raise groups of the ruled to save them.
In Western Europe and the vast majority of the Anglosphere, credentialism is the preferred institution of legitimacy and can be revoked unlike inherited nobility or spiritual superiority. Credentialism (nominal meritocracy coupled with ideological compliance) forms a framework of class control slightly less punitive, yet every bit as pervasive as the Communist regimes.
In a credentials-based system, the institutions that bestow credentials - such as elite universities - represent a significant chokepoint of control over ruling elite members.
Attendance has its privileges. In the United States, Ivy League and Ivy League plus graduates are overrepresented in the upper echelons of US government, business and non-profit institutions. Currently 8 out of 9 US Supreme Court justices are graduates of just two law schools: Yale and Harvard Law. 4 out 5 of the last US Presidents graduated from Ivy League schools.
However, despite representation as a ‘meritocracy’, admission to and attendance at these institutions are not contingent solely on merit. The most obvious exceptions being legacy preferences and affirmative action. Legacy preferences and affirmative action are non-merit criteria for admission that enables ruling elites to play gatekeeper and prefer members of their class or preferred candidates for addition to the class.
Less obvious though is the implied ideological conformity to become a member of these credential granting institutions. During the 1950s and 1960s, the whiff of Communist sympathies could blacklist an individual from these institutions. In present times, differing views on gender, race, immigration or even ‘lack of personality’ can bar an individual from admission, cause rescission of admission or expulsion from these credential granting institutions. Earned credentials can be revoked for academic disagreement if it buts against the class consensus as is the case in California where disagreement with the ‘consensus’ over COVID now allows medical license revocation.
Technology makes possible the ubiquitous yet decentralized class policing to maintain conformity in the West. Stray comments from years in the past during literal childhood are now grounds for exclusion or ‘cancellation’. Social media and cancel culture allows class coordination in real-time with everything captured on phones and immediately shared on Twitter, Tiktok, Instagram to generate instant class outrage and cancellation - all without recourse to a government institution. There’s no longer a need to ‘eliminate’ someone when a bot can post inciting content that results in the loss of credentials, employment and social status for the problematic individual.
Whether the punitive Communist system or the slightly less punitive yet every bit as controlling Western system, the revocable nature of legitimacy in both systems enables modern elites to resolve intraclass disputes without having to resort to mass violence. Expulsion from the institutions of legitimacy is possible without death and can be instantaneous since unlike birth-descent legitimacy which only ends upon death, removal of a credential or Party membership doesn’t require the individual to be found, seized and killed. A few keystrokes and boom! - virtual death.
This ease and swiftness of delegitimization means class dissidents are less likely to be able to garner and maintain enough popular support necessary to violently contest for supremacy.
While beneficial to the ruling class, this removes participation in the informal violence of intraclass conflict within the ruling elite as a path of advancement or accommodation for the ruled. The ruled are no longer needed to maintain the intra-class balance.

We need pitchforks. Lots of pitchforks.

The ruled populace’s sole remaining leverage is to act as members of the formal security institutions of the society such as the armed forces or law enforcement.
The structure of the armed forces mimics the same control structure as other social institutions with the officers corps overpopulated with members of the ruling elites and the bulk of recruits from the other strata of society.
In the US, the bulk of the enlisted recruits - 80% - 90% of the total - are from households under $100k annual income. With an average income of slightly over $50,000, these recruits’ household incomes are significantly below the top 10% annual income average of $173,000 .
Doing the bulk of the fighting and dying has meant that the ruled populace has enough strategic value to the ruling elite as violent counterbalances to external elites that accommodations in energy distribution and class membership are a grudging but recurring feature of political history.
There’s a roughly direct relationship between conflict severity and the level of accommodation. The violent global paroxysms of the 20th century (WWI, WW2, the Korean War) saw the advent of socialized medicine), the GI Bill and other concessions throughout Western Europe and the Anglosphere. The Cold War saw the further growth of the welfare state in the societies of the West as well the advent of a series of development/aid programs directed towards the developing world. The ruling elites of the West and the Communist bloc competed with accommodations to shore up their popular support domestically and globally in case of another world conflict that might be nuclear and apocalyptic in nature.
The Vietnam War represented the beginning of the end of this type of popular accommodation in the United States. The usual inequities of socioeconomic status vs combat exposure were hyper-magnified as college and health related exemptions allowed many scions and aspiring members of the ruling elite to avoid the conflict altogether.
This left the armed forces composed of draftees - disproportionately from the lower socioeconomic classes - commanded by the few volunteer members of the ruling elite. The results were disastrous. Social justice protests, McNamara’s Morons, ‘fragging’ and other disciplinary and performance issues - caused by the imbalanced force structure - proved such a toxic stew that the US moved to an all-volunteer force in 1973.
The move to a professional army removed the need for broad-based popular consent to ensure force cohesion during conflict (or so the theory went). And with the decreased need for broad-based support, the US ruling elites began to contract the post-World War accommodations and welfare-state.
First to suffer was veteran treatment as the soldiers exposed to Agent Orange were denied compensation and care for the myriad health problems resulting from their exposure. The 1980s saw the beginning of the end for The Great Society welfare state and culminated with the ‘end of welfare as we know it’ being signed into law by President Bill Clinton in the 1990s. Offshoring began in the 1980s and accelerated with NAFTA and China’s accession to the WTO. This coupled with the Reagan-Bush-Trump tax cuts further eviscerated the middle class which typically provides the bulk of armed forces recruits.
Initial impacts on operational readiness appeared during the first Gulf War, Afghanistan and the second Gulf War but were ameliorated by extended and repetitive use of reserve forces. However, recruiting has plummeted across the board and the soldiers that fought the last three American conflicts are aging out of service eligibility. In 2022 and 2023, it is projected that all branches except the Space Force will have failed to meet recruitment goals.
The likelihood that new recruitment techniques will improve the situation are grim as the Army estimates that only 23% of the 17-to-24 year olds in the US would even qualify as recruits. The other 77% are unable to pass the basic armed forces entrance exam or are too overweight/obese to meet minimum fitness requirements.
A shrinking pool of recruits has not impaired the ruling elites’ willingness to engage in armed conflict to achieve their geopolitical goals. Currently, the United States and its NATO allies are engaged in a proxy war in Ukraine against Russia. The United States, Taiwan, Australia, South Korea, Japan and the Philippines stand on the verge of conflict over Taiwan and access to the South China Sea.
All of the actors in these brewing or ongoing conflicts are experiencing some degree of demographic decline with severe population declines projected for Russia, Ukraine, China, South Korea, Japan and much of Europe. The United States is projected to be buoyed by immigration however the native birth rate has already plummeted below replacement levels.
This leaves the ruling elites with the confounding situation where the current economic and political institutions they control have ennervated the ruled populace to the point it impairs their ability to project power externally. Rebuilding the middle class that provides the bulk of recruits would necessitate major structural changes that would greatly lessen their class’ control and at least a generation of time for enough children to be born to erase the recruitment deficit.
Reversing 40-years of rigged economic and political policy alone would represent a Herculean task. But couple this with natural class resistance to any loss of control egged on by the psychopathy of the class leaders, the necessary changes are improbable to the point of impossible.
With no change and conflicts on the immediate horizon, the ruling elites have one solution left to them to replace the dispossessed recruitment pools of the middle class - artificial intelligence and autonomous weapons.

Move over humans. It’s time for something scarier.

A.I. powered weapons offer a number of advantages over human combatants. Not only does A.I. already demonstrate tactical superiority against human opponents in simulation, but its unique nature is particularly appealing to the ruling elites.
Without conscience or kinship ties or moral safeguards, the A.I. soldiers will pursue any objective regardless of the dubious nature of the orders. History would have been markedly different if A.I. soldiers had been present in the Soviet Union during the hardline coup against Gorbachev or available to the Arab rulers during the Arab Spring. Implementing Asimov’s Laws of Robotics would be foolhardy in a combat android but even if implemented, the noted problems of AI control could result in unintended casualties.
Additionally, as non-humans, casualties no longer equal declining morale in the armed forces and society as a whole. The Vietnam War demonstrated the impact of seeing body bags of soldiers returned home. During the Afghanistan, Gulf and Iraq wars, this type of footage was banned (until 2009) to stop the type of social unrest that occurred during the Vietnam War when the public was faced with the direct cost of conflict. It is doubtful that humans will see injured or killed A.I. soldiers in the same empathetic light as they do human casualties. Risky missions start to have acceptable loss levels and this change enables more aggression on the part of ruling elites.
But the greatest advantage of the new A.I. soldier is that there is absolutely no need for accommodation by the ruling elites to the ruled populace to maintain their base of power. A newer, remorseless and completely obedient purveyor of violence is now available to the ruling elite. It makes no demands beyond bare functioning and feels no emotional remorse for immoral acts.
These A.I. soldiers that are capable of maintaining the developed world’s strategic parity to the global masses’ numbers can be also used internally to quell any possible dissent or mass movement. A.I. generally offers unlimited potential for surveillance and internal class discipline but coupled with advances in robotics, it will offer an ethics-free physical enforcer to combat protests like Sri Lanka, Canada, the Netherlands and the United States. There are no repercussions available for the A.I. soldier since they have no personhood or control so even the spotty administration of ICC justice isn’t a deterrent. Already law enforcement agencies in Los Angeles, New York and other jurisdictions are deploying robotic dogs - which is eerily reminiscent of the usage of attack dogs by oppressors through history. An A.I. soldier that was used for similar purposes would have no fear of punishment or injury or fear at all unlike the officer or even the dog in past situations.
Attempts to control this new technology and A.I. soldiers are manifesting in calls for A.I. regulation and licensing by the ruling elites of the US and Western Europe. The potential for positive change through a human-A.I. partnership is tremendous and widespread availability has the potential to provide the ruled populace with substantial technical and economic advancements without the overhead of the ruling elite. Citing the danger of extinction by A.I. while simultaneously continuing development of the technology highlights how disingenuous the call for regulation is by the ruling elites. In reality this is a call to restrict any dangers presented to their institutional control of education, finance and healthcare as well as their monopoly of violence within society.
The future is grim for the ruled populaces of humanity. At a time that technology could power the solutions to climate change, economic collapse and space exploration, the technology is being evolved and restricted to prop up the ruling class’ domination. And with no bargaining chips left - whether as producers or gangs or soldiers - the real extinction crisis may not be for humanity as a whole but for the ruled.

Appendix: A Classical Case of Control

Pre-Marian reforms

In the pre-Marian reform Roman Republic, strict divisions were made between patricians )and plebeians with severe restrictions on political and religious participation placed on the plebeian class. Military service was strictly limited to property owners to ensure that the landowning class maintained a monopoly on violence. A credo of tribal superiority ranking Roman -> Latin -> Italian -> non-peninsulars was embodied legally in tiered political membership of Citizen -> Latin Rights holder -> Foreigner. Membership was zealously policed by officials called censors who were initially exclusively patrician.
The patricians of Rome were successful in maintaining their monopoly of power until a series of secessio plebis (Latin: withdrawal of the commoners or secession of the plebs) or general strikes by the plebeian class forced the patricians to cede some power, privileges and land to the plebeian class. Faced with complete economic standstill, a series of accommodations were made to maintain the viability of the power structure itself.
This cession of power was largely illusory though. While technical class distinctions were removed, the old patrician class and the wealthiest of the plebeian class merged through co-option and intermarriage to form a new nobility that enforced their new collective will through property qualifications restricting political participation.
This new nobility fought any further accommodations to middle and lower classes such as the Gracchan, Marian and Livian reforms. The brothers Gracchi and Livius Drusus) were killed and Marius died in the middle of a civil war with Sulla and his noble adherents.
Conquest and the resulting ubiquity of slavery destroyed any further economic leverage the lower classes had. With literally millions of slaves now cheaply available, laborers, craftspeople, shopkeepers and domestic employees were dispossessed of their livelihoods as slaves replaced them in their jobs. Small landholders were driven off their farms and into the urban stews as the treasure of conquest inflated the price of real estate astronomically.

Post-Marian reforms

The Marian reforms left one avenue for the lower classes - the military. As the rich and powerful (Marius v Sulla, Pompey v Caesar, Augustus v Antony) fought each other for supremacy within their own class, the poor were courted with numerous concessions and bonuses to serve as soldiers for the powerful.
While always at the whim of the commander (barring assassination) who was always a member of the ruling class, military necessity served as a check on the ruler's ambitions. Armies need soldiers and another ambitious member of the same class could always bribe or recruit soldiers with better terms to topple the current leader. A degree of class balance was a necessity to preserve the power structure.
For those who couldn’t or wouldn’t join the army, panem et circenses (bread and circuses) dulled the need for rebellion. Gladiator games, free food distributions and occasional money distributions maintained a docile subsistence-based population that remained fairly quiescent until the late Western Empire despite depredations by the landed elite and nobility.
The system despite all its inequities suffered along for multiple centuries until external pressures and the depredations of the nobility overwhelmed the economic and military capacity of the Empire and resulted in its fall in 476 CE. But it’s important to note that the system wasn’t overthrown from within but overwhelmed from the outside.

DC Next proudly presents:

KARA: DAUGHTER OF KRYPTON

In The Dreamer
Issue Seven: First Day
Written by ClaraEclair
Edited by AdamantAce
 
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“So, if you’re really going to go through with this, you’re going to need a costume,” said Nia Nal, standing in front of Kara within the Fortress of Solitude. Kara furrowed her brow.
“Why?” she asked.
“Well, one; so you’re easily recognizable,” Nia continued. “And two; I don’t think wearing a space suit like that—” she pointed toward Kara’s one-piece space suit that she had been wearing since arriving on Earth, “—is going to cut it in terms of iconography.”
“But it’s comfortable,” Kara replied, looking down at herself. “I don’t see why I need to have some sort of ‘super’ suit.”
“Kara, has that suit you’re wearing ever been washed?” Nia asked, giving an accusatory look.
“I shower!” Kara exclaimed in response, crossing her arms.
“Yeah, I asked about whether the suit’s been washed,” Nia said, tilting her head slightly, raising her eyebrows. Kara remained silent. “Right, so get on that later, first—”
“Why do I even need something like this anyway?” asked Kara once more. “Is there some quirk in human biology that prevents you from remembering my face or, I don’t know, my powers?” Nia sighed. “I see the point you’re making, but if I’m helping people, isn’t that the point?”
“Why not both?” Nia asked, shrugging her shoulders. “You can be both immediately recognizable and focus on helping people. Why don’t we start with something simple? I know you don’t want to be Superwoman or have any moniker, but why don’t you wear something with your family crest on it?”
“That was the plan,” Kara interjected.
“Perfect, I can make—” Nia paused as she looked down at Kara, who was slowly tapping away at the crest of the House of El on the chest of her space suit, a smug expression on her face. Nia sighed. “Alright, fine,” Nia conceded, “wear it. Just wash it first, please.” With a self-satisfied smirk, Kara stood from her seat and walked toward the nearest wash room, leaving Nia behind.
 
 
Nia’s own suit was constructed out of pure Dream Energy, a seemingly mythical substance that only she seemed able to exert control over. Every so often she saw an ominous face on the back of her eyes, but she could never make out any features beyond pitch black eyes reflecting the universe back at her. All memories of the face save those piercing eyes disappeared from her mind the moment her eyes would open.
“What do you hear?” asked Nia, looking up at Kara, who was floating a few metres above the skyscraper they both stood upon. Kara’s face seemed in a permanent wince, dozens of thousands of individual sounds of a city containing millions of citizens.
“There’s… everything,” Kara said, her voice strained against the effort of trying to filter every minutiae of the world around her. “I can’t tell anything apart.”
“That’s alright,” Nia said, her voice soft. “Take your time. If you need help, I can–”
“No!” Kara nearly shouted, interrupting the oneiromancer. “I can do it… I just need to focus.” Nia nodded without words, watching the Kryptonian closely, prepared to soften the psychic blow if anything were to change. “I can… someone’s in trouble…”
“Can you tell where they are?” Nia asked excitedly, prepared to travel anywhere the two would be needed.
“I–” Kara began, her voice breaking as the cacophony of sound breached her mind, obscuring the calls for help she had only barely caught. Someone was in trouble, and yet they were left to suffer simply because Kara could not differentiate simple sounds. Her head pounded, as if she were being hit repeatedly by a hammer, enough to feel it in her jaw, resonating through her body and rattling in her knuckles. “I can’t–!”
Nia tried once again, interrupted a second time by the struggling woman floating above her. “Kara, I can–!”
“No!” Kara shouted once more, pushing through the pain as best she could, desperately searching for the voice. High pitched shouting, low rumbling of cars and planes, barking dogs, and pens scraping paper infiltrated her mind before the sound of a man crying out for help finally arose through the static of life, returning to her senses just enough for– “That way!” Kara said quickly, pointing eastward, toward the pacific coast.
Quickly throwing her hands over her ears as she floated back down toward the roof, Kara took a series of long, deep, instinctual breaths.
Rao help me, I can’t do this, she thought to herself, forcing her eyes shut. A few moments passed before she noticed Nia’s gentle hand on her shoulder, pulling her back to reality. Rao, be my guide. Mordo, my strength. Telle, my mind.
“Are you okay?” Asked Nia, concern in her voice. “If you need to sit out…”
“No,” Kara interrupted her once more, shaking her head harshly as she removed her hands from her ears and looked toward the direction she had pointed to. “I can do it.”
Without further words, Kara shot into the sky, ripping through the air toward her destination.
 
 
As Kara touched down outside of the coastal fishing shop, Nia appeared next to her, discomfort clear on her face.
“You’re lucky that rats dream, Kara,” she groaned, wiping her forehead. “But I’d rather avoid travelling through the dreams of animals.”
“Sorry, I…” Kara began, her turn to be interrupted.
“It’s fine,” said Dreamer, looking forward to the shop, pointing a quick finger at it. “That’s the place?” Kara nodded.
“There was a metallic echo in his voice, I think he’s in some sort of cellar or something,” said Kara, using her alternate vision to scan the building. “There are a lot of people in there, more than six.”
“How do you want to do this?” Nia asked, looking over at Kara, curious as to how she would approach the situation.
“We can’t let anyone get hurt,” Kara said. “We need to get the person in trouble out of there as fast as possible. It looks like they’re in a chair, hands tied behind their back. Most of the people inside are standing in a circle around them, a few are in different rooms.”
“You wanna head in the front and distract them while I project into the room and get whoever’s in trouble out of there?” Nia asked.
“That works for me,” Kara responded, slowly making her way toward the front of the shop. It was an innocent looking building, filled with fishing tackle and other supplies, lined on numerous shelves and clothes racks. Entering was easy enough, the door was unlocked and none of the men inside seemed to be looking that way.
Crouching behind a shelf, Kara took a moment to think of how she would approach her distraction.
Looking across the room, the opposite side of the entrance, Kara pressed her fingers together and, using her newfound super strength, snapped her fingers so tightly, so powerfully, that the sound began inaudible, dissipating enough as it travelled to form the sound on the other side of the building.
One of the men muttered to themselves after his head shot toward the entrance, unsure of what would have caused the sound. Cautious as he approached, he pulled a pistol from his waist and prepared to fire as he turned around a shelf, looking at the vending machine across from Kara. The moment he stepped out in front of her, she zipped forward, palming him harshly, sending him flying across the store, colliding with the vending machine.
The loud noise gave Nia the signal she needed, examining the back room for the very moment that the hostage-takers cleared out. The noise Kara was causing at the front of the shop was more than enough to catch their attention, however not all of them left. Dreamer could handle fighting three men more than well enough.
Kara found herself surrounded by four men, aiming weapons at her, yet visibly nervous. She had thrown their friend multiple feet across the shop, and even then, they didn’t know her true capabilities.
“You’re holding someone back there,” said Kara, pointing to the door at the back of the room, a cocky grin on her face. “Either you let them go without issue, or I fight through you and take them anyway.”
Without hesitation, a shot was fired directly at Kara’s face, the bullet speeding through the air, only to come to a complete stop against her cheek, ricocheting off and embedding itself in the wall to her left.
“I did warn you,” Kara said, shrugging her shoulders as she let out a quick puff of air, throwing two of the four men — as well as various shelves and fishing products — across the room.
Shifting to an ethereal form, using latent dream energy from the world around her, Dreamer walked through the back walls of the shop, seeing the three remaining men guarding their victim. Shouts of shock arose from one before Nia returned to corporeality as she threw her arm in his direction, snapping her fingers to send a sparkling flow of dream energy through his eyes and forcing him asleep standing up.
Forcing a nightmare, Nia proceeded to pry a vicious beast of darkness from the sleeper’s dream, equipped with sharp, blade-like claws and gnarly teeth. An ear piercing roar erupted from its throat, breeding fear in the minds of the other two men, who immediately dropped their weapons, backing away in fear as the beast approached.
With the twist of her hand, each of the light bulbs in the room were destroyed, leaving the room pitch black, eliciting terrified screams from her prey. Pulling the victim from their chair, Nia returned to ethereal form to get them out of the building, at the same time dissipating the illusory beast.
Kara dispatched her own remaining opponents easily, barely expending much energy to incapacitate the two last men. Meeting Dreamer outside of the shop, Kara quickly unbound the man with her incredible strength and helped him sit on a bench nearby.
“Are you alright?” asked Nia, kneeling in front of him.
“Y-Yeah, I’m…” began the man, shuddering as he wiped his eyes. “I’m okay.” He took a deep breath, running a hand down his face before looking up at Dreamer. Every emotion seemed to leave his face as he realised just who was in front of him. “You–?!”
“Me?” asked Nia, sharing a confused glance with Kara. “Do I know you?”
“Dream Girl, right?” asked the man, leaning away from her as she nodded with a crooked face. “You’re supposed to be dead.” Without warning, the man pushed Dreamer back, causing her to lose balance and fall on her rear as the man stood and began running down the street, slowed significantly by the limp caused by his captors.
Nia stood, dusting herself off, and furrowed her brow, watching him slowly run down the street.
“Think he knows something?” Kara asked incredulously, her eyes heating up slowly.
“Probably,” said Nia, her demeanour shifted down to sorrow. She learned more about who the Nia Nal of this earth was — a hero — and more seemed to be revealed of just who this world had lost.
With a brilliant flash of light, Kara’s eyes emitted a long, bright magenta beam of light that fried the ground around the man’s feet, sending him cowering to the ground, shouting various expletives in fear and anger.
“Listen, man,” Nia said as she and Kara approached him. “We just want to know what happened to me.”
“Shouldn’t you know?” He shouted in response, slowly crawling back away from them. “It’s you who’s supposed to be dead!”
“Well, it’s not that easy,” Dreamer replied. “I just need to know who did it.”
“I don’t know!” He shouted, turning onto his stomach to crawl. “I don’t know nothing!”
“The longer this goes on, the more frustrated we get,” Nia continued. “I don’t think you want to find out how strong Kryptonians are.” Kara flashed Nia a puzzled look, her turn to furrow her brow, to which Nia simply responded by shrugging her shoulders.
“A Kryptonian?” he muttered under his breath quickly, “Fine!” Turning back over, he looked up at Dreamer and Kara, his lower lip quivering, and sighed. “I don’t know who did it, but I heard — heard — that my boss, Johnny, was involved somehow.”
“How?” Nia asked.
“I don’t know! I’m not his priest!” The man shouted. “His name’s Johnny Reb, he hangs out on the east side, in a dive called Al’s.” Nia nodded, satisfied with the information, and turned away.
“Stay out of trouble!” Kara called out as she followed behind her friend, leaving the man in the street.
 
 
“I don’t think I’ve ever been in a dive bar before,” said Kara as she and Nia arrived out front of Al’s, hidden behind a warehouse on the outskirts of National City. While Nia had dissipated the form of her suit, Kara was still equipped in her simple pod suit, sticking out more than a sore thumb.
“Yeah, that’s clear,” said Nia, clearly agitated. Her hands never stopped moving, constantly twiddling her thumbs or fidgeting with a set of keys. “Look, stay close and I can dream you up some clothes to wear. You really don’t fit the vibes with this getup.” Kara tilted her head, wincing slightly as she began listening to her friend’s heartbeat, still trying to filter out the extra noise of the world.
“You alright?” she asked. “Your heart’s going crazy.”
“I’m fine,” Nia dismissed her, trying to turn and walk up to the door to knock and deliver the passcode.
“Nia…” Kara began, reaching out for Nia’s arm.
“I’m scared,” Nia said suddenly, shaking Kara’s hand away. “It’s not like finding my own murderer is a fun romp around town. I’m happy to have you here, but actually being here isn’t something I ever wanted to face.”
“What do you mean?” Kara asked.
“I mean that I could always just say that I couldn’t find any leads, or play it off like it’s some complex mystery, but even just the thought of coming face-to-face with someone who knew how I died on this world is terrifying.” Kara remained silent as Nia spoke, unsure of what to say.
Kara lost her planet, but she always had herself, her mind, and her experiences. Nia had every aspect of herself erased when she changed universes, thrown into a world where, not only was her equivalent self dead, but nothing she knew ever existed as she knew it.
“I know we’ve both lost everything we held dear,” Kara began, her voice soft. Nia took a deep breath. “But there’s room for closure here, Nia. You can set things right, find out what happened and finally move on. I can’t… and I really want to help you find your way. We just have to keep moving forward.” With a deep sigh, Nia nodded.
“Yeah,” she said solemnly. “Yeah, you’re right.” There were no more words from the woman as she moved toward the door, waving her hand in front of Kara to form an illusory glossy leather jacket over her torso, skinny jeans, and a pair of leather boots. “Let’s go.”

Advent Home
trigger warnings
rape, suicide, physical abuse, emotional abuse.
https://www.wvgazettemail.com/news/legal_affairs/more-former-students-sue-over-alleged-abuse-at-boarding-school/article_db70c152-c8db-5711-82dc-52e3d26303ab.html
chrome-extension://efaidnbmnnnibpcajpcglclefindmkaj/https://www.courthousenews.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/02/WEST-VIRGINIA.pdf
note: Several organizations share a name with the Advent Home. I am specifically referring to the now defunct group home near Calhoun, Tennessee.
We talk a lot today about trauma in a way I don't remember it being discussed even in the broader cultural consciousness when I was young. Mental health was just viewed differently. Adventists have always had a weird relationship with mental health, but I think rarely more strange and harmful than the ideas of Dr. Senior and the Advent home. Through most of this I will use fake names but as Dr. Senior's name is intrinsically and publicly tied to the school he is my one exception. Also, if any reading this had the misfortune of also attending the school, you will know we were told to call him Dr. B or Dr. Blondel but we are adults and his title was Dr. Senior.
I've wanted to write about this for some time and this will likely be a first draft of a larger discussion. Psychology isn't my field of expertise and I've never felt I found the right platform to talk about such a niche subject but finding the Ex Adventist sub and with more being said about mental health I at least feel qualified to discuss where I feel Adventism was used to twist psychology into something harmful by Dr. Senior.
Before I continue, I wasn't there for the worst of what was to happen nor did I receive the worst of what happened in my time there. I also cannot entirely claim innocence of some of the emotional bullying that was tolerated if not encouraged. I hope I have grown since then and have learned from mistakes I made when I was 13 and do believe I am largely innocent of the physical bullying and certainly the sexual assault.
First, I want to address the lawsuit. As I say, I wasn't there for most of this as by 2014 the Advent Home and Miracle Meadows seem to have become much more closely related, swapping students to hide them from law enforcement and deposition. The school closed around 2014 , the time a lawsuit was filed. More lawsuits have since been filed and the director of the sister school miracle meadows was imprisoned. I will link the lawsuit and articles above. As the events detailed in it represent a massive escalation from what was happening while I was there, but I do think the events described are merely the codification of the policies being unofficially implemented on a smaller scale in my time. In short it lays out regular forced sexual assault by students and staff, duct taping students in rooms for days if they were violent and forcing them to study the bible for days at a time as punishment. Thinking back, I can see how the deference to authority and refusal to treat mental health as anything other than a religious failing could lead to the behavior detailed in these allegations. To be clear I am linking the allegation and articles below though I wasn't part of any of these trials and don't know which charges exactly stuck.
Even though the school is closed and from what I can tell Dr. Senior is retired, I think there is a larger discussion to be had about how the Adventist Church handles mental health and firebrands. So, what was the Advent Home? The Advent Home was a young men's reform school begun by Dr. Blondel Senior in Calhoun, Tennessee. There isn't much left to find on it as it shut down around 2014 and never had a great online presence. I suspect a lawsuit around the same time was to blame, as, if any of its allegations were proven, it would have cost the advent home, Dr Senior, and the conference a lot of money and embarrassment. More on this later.
The Advent Home advertised a range of services from treating ADHD and general misbehavior to serious developmental disorders and outright criminals. Basicall, he wanted it to be everything from a more structured middle school to a juvenile detention center, and predictably, it would fail at both.
I don't know how my mom found out about the Advent Home, but I know her reasons for sending me. A nasty divorce between my parents caused me to lose interest in schoo, so I barely passed 8th grade, and I had started listening to Eminem. That's it. it seems so laughably tame but that's all it took for Dr. Senior to be able to convince my mom that this behavior would escalate and the only recourse was his school which was built on and advertised correction through a strict adherence to Adventist principles. Every student came with fundamentally different problems. Some, like me were struggling scholastically while several had been ordered there by courts for violent offenses and several had what I cannot give another name other than a complete stall in mental development (one student thought and acted like a toddler, mentally and emotionally well below his age).
We were all, however, given the same treatment regimen, Maturation Therapy. This I will argue is the root of the problem. Dr. Senior claimed to have gotten his PHD in psychology from the University of Jamaica. I am not going to cast aspersions on this institution, but if he did have this degree he missed some crucial lessons and did not keep up on developments in the field. Dr. Senior had identified 70 ideals he believed every young man should emulate as he matures. I could not possibly list them, but they ranged from keeping a clean room, respect for staff to whether you used harsh language to how often you prayed. These would have made for fine rules for a religious correctional facility, but this was the entire treatment plan. Each of the 70 points would have you ranked 1-5, and you graduated by achieving a 4.5 average. 230 points overall. An important note here is all of these points were external. There was no mention of healing trauma or discussion of past actions. We were seen as immature children and by forcing mature behavior our other issues would right themselves. Right? In short, Dr. Seniors idea of therapy was entirely about becoming presentable, respect for authority, and respect for God. I want to go through these because in each I see a failing not only of the school but Adventism's handling of mental health in general. Also while I cannot speak to the lawsuit I will be linking it below as I believe sexual assault survivors and I want to say what these points contribute to how this environment may have developed.
His entire idea of personal growth was based on becoming outwardly his idea of a respectable man. He was willing to cross any number of boundaries violating others' religious taboos, disregarding the desires of the parents and showing no interest in the students as individuals. We were broken and needed only to be put in his mold and recast. One student was Rastafarian and his father wrote a letter explaining their faith and why he shouldn't cut his hair. His father had barely left town when the boy was forced to get his hair shorn off. Our 'civilian' clothes were confiscated on arrival and sorted for how appropriate he felt they were. Anything he didn't like we would get back when we left. I never did. As for speech we were strictly regulated on what words we could say. Cuss words, and even adjacent words like darn, would result in a loss of points and thus longer before we would be able to go home. Instead of psychological healing, his priority was always to make us look healed on the outside.
The most egregious example of this was a boy I will call Zach. Zach had a severe developmental disorder that in my opinion Dr. Senior was woefully ill-equipped to treat but that never dulled his confidence. Because of his neurodivergence Zach was habitually unpresentable. Zach would frequently have food dripped down his shirt, throw temper tantrums in public areas and speak loudly about bodily functions that would have been amusing from a four year old but Zach was almost 14 and just beginning puberty if you get my meaning. At every turn, Zach was not met with treatment but ridicule. To the Advent Home staff, he wasn't sick, he was misbehaved and punished severely for it. We all had to run up to 3 laps of 1/3 of a mile as discipline regularly, but Zach's condition often racked him up more laps than could be humanly run. at one point, a new staff member refused to allow Zach to eat at all until he completed a number of laps I doubt would be humanly possible, let alone for a confused neurodivergent. One of the proudest moments of my life is that I stood up for Zach and pointed out, whatever punishment was meted out, food was an illegal method of punishment in the state. My shame, however, is how often I joined in the ridicule and bullying of Zach when the staff made punishments for his misbehavior punishments for all of us. As I say, I hope I have grown.
Dr. Senior saw scruffiness and cultural differences very much the way the Dursleys from Harry Potter did. These were not the markers of young men expressing themselves or of cultural differences but of moral failings to be stamped out or hidden until they faded into normalcy. We didn't need to discover ourselves, we needed to learn the joy of conformity
The real problems would come with his reliance on authoritative structures. Both the staff and students had clear hierarchies within them. New students would be Group Members, GM, while you could be promoted to Assistant Group Leader, AGL, a Group Leader, GL, with a possible Super Group Leader SGL at the top All leaders had the authority to report misbehavior and physically restrain violent students. Here, we start to see the problems. What constituted violent behavior was entirely up to the authority figure, and unless there were witnesses who ranked equally, Dr. Senior would implicitly believe the higher ranked individual. Keep in mind that some of these kids had real criminal records, and as I've established, we were not getting our problems treated.
I want to use one student as an example. I'll give him a fake name (James) as I hope he's reformed and also should not be judged entirely on his actions when he was 16 but these are actions I either witnessed or saw the fall out of so believer their veracity. I was walking by him one day. he had been given a job he didn't want to do. Instead, he was sitting talking to a group he bullied but passed for his friends. He called out to me to do the job for him. I laughed and kept walking. he took offense and deciding I had disrespected him, chased me down, hit me, tackled me into the gravel road, and held me there until I begged to be released. Those words; I beg you to release me. I was cut, bruised, crying and bleeding. James was unharmed, but when I told Dr. Senior, he believed James because he was a group leader and I a lowly Group member.
One of the students who had been sitting on the steps with James, who I will call Sam, would get caught performing oral sex on James only a few months later. James assured Dr. Senior Sam had asked practically begged to do it, and here again, James authority had him taken at this word. They both received punishment, but Sam got the lion's share as he had initiated and must be gay. I firmly believe James pressured Sam into this, and likely not just this once.
Dr. Senior said the word "manipulative" more than anyone i have ever known. often as we lowly students tried to explain actions or avoid discipline for petty offences, he would accuse us of manipulating. In hindsight, this is how he viewed the relationship between those with power and those without. There were those the system had put in power and those below who now would try to manipulate those who had the power. from the bottom of the ladder, he was incapable of seeing sincerity or pain. only manipulation. To be clear, I don't know how much of the reality reached Dr. Senior's ears, but enough had to he had to be actively ignoring warning signs in favor of authority. I talk about this to show how Dr. Senior felt strongly that respect for authority was essential regardless how abusive the authority figure might be. Hold on to that too.
The final point is religion. It should not need said, but Dr. Senior wanted all of us studying the bible and practicing a very conservative faith even for SDA. This is fine(ish), but he also believed that Christ had predictable healing powers and that mental health was only a failing of the individual to have the faith necessary for healing.
We were all encouraged to discontinue any medications we might be taking. For me, with ADHD and Ritalin this was probably fine, but for one student with borderline schizophrenia this led to several violent episodes he was blamed for despite the staff convincing him to get off his meds. A diabetic student was eventually pulled from the program after his 4th hospitalization when he was allowed to opt out of his insulin/ blood sugar checker. Christ, as a placebo alongside medicine, is silly but fine, but as a replacement for lifesaving drugs, it can have dangerous consequences, and Dr. Senior refused to see this. In Dr Senior's mind, I believe, these boys weren't sick, they were failing to let Jesus in to heal them and that's what needed to change.
Furthermore, behavioral incidents were often met with explicitly Christiaan remedies. Issues of bullying and cursing would require not time out but a scripture reading. sometimes alone sometimes publicly, along with a public admission of what we did. This was done at a weekly meeting when Dr. Senior came down from his literal house on the hill to play mediator and in no metaphorical sense moral arbiter of our actions. in essence, he got to play God for 2 hours a week.
The most heinous example of the use of religion however was, Mr. V who I believe saw jail time. This man was a thousand walking red flags. He went to boys' rooms to pray alone, and he insisted on a separate bible study with a group of boys he was particularly close to. Outwardly, however, he was fanatically religious, and this was enough to assuage Dr. Senior of concerns. Mr. V was the guy who when the pastor said kneel for prayer he would stand with his arms to heaven, when the pastor asked for a moment of silent reflection he would exclaim AMEN! every five seconds, He played moral police intervening in behavioral issues after considering a matter settled if a student agreed to a private prayer session (yup, nothing sus here). Dr, Senior employed and sung the praises of Mr. V's work even as this concerning behavior began to escalate to the point that some students, formerly in his inner circle, began to actively distance themselves from him but were unwilling to discuss why.
Dr. Senior could not, however, ignore when Mr. V took a kid off campus without telling anyone to a small mountain cabin to "diet" for three days. Only once the police were involved could Mr. V. 's behavior no longer be ignored and his religious authority be given priority. If you are wondering Mr. V gets a fake name because, while I am telling the truth to the best of my knowledge, we were never told the full story. The student in question was withdrawn before he was willing to talk about it, and Mr. V was not seen again. I don't know what he was charged with or what stuck but I think we can put the pieces together.
Fortunately, other than some more bullying and getting through a nasty flu with nothing more than pepper water as medicine, I graduated. Yeah, shocker, he also didn't like doctors. The shock of seeing how normal people practiced Adventism after a year of this cult like fanaticism has a lot to do with why I'm on this sub and not the SDA sub, but I got off easy. For the criminals and really troubled kids recidivism was high, with several being in a proper prison weeks or months after. Several would turn around and be back at the Advent Home in months because the behavior never stopped, they just learned to act like it did. But the real harm was a boy I'll call Dan. He had depression when he arrived, it was never treated but pushed down. He pushed it down so far he became the best of us. he was very nice and a bit of a mentor to me. he worked hard and became SGL (the highest one remember) with one of the highest scores that an Advent home graduate had had. One year after leaving the school, he committed suicide by diving into an empty pool. Only then, did I realize he wasn't fine. He was never fine. He had mastered acting fine. The furthest I got in Psychology was a single college course and some youtubers (and the small bit of real therapy I've had) but even with this, I can see how Dr. Senior was out of step with the psychological practices even of the early 2000s. He was so much more focused on appearance and behavior than he was ever interested in the root cause, his system often became a new trauma rather than treating an old one. An excessive respect for authority led to abusive behavior being overlooked if not encouraged, and Jesus was treated in a professional setting as a supreme healer despite real medical issues. I saw these issues in the church I left, and my mom and extended family still practice in. This is why I really feel compelled to write this. People like Dr. Senior may seem like an Adventist version of Godwin's law. "Oh, yeah? If we can look at Jesus to heal, it'll end up like the Advent Home!" (Or Miracle Meadows) I know this sentence has never been uttered by anyone but me and maybe Sam, hope you're ok buddy, but the fact is Dr. Senior is the end stage of the ideas put into their most harmful practice, and some like Dan paid with their life.
Finally, through all of this, I remember how Dr. Senior was treated by outsiders. Entire churches prayed for his good work to continue, meetings were held for him to teach others to copy his program, he was featured multiple times in the herald and other Adventist publications. Like Mr. V his religiosity was a shield despite all the red flags, and like Mr. V he was given the respect and admiration that came with his position all the way up until there were consequences. It isn't that no one could see there were problems. He flew his red flags high. Its that the church didn't want to see the problem and didn't care until the outside world took action.
Please, if you take anything from this, look out for your SDA relatives who struggle with mental health. The church sure won't. But on a larger note, I hope this to be part of a larger discussion about bringing awareness to the churches failing on mental health and how they overlook monsters in their ranks who just haven't embarrassed them yet. Dr. Senior never sexually assaulted a kid as far as I'm aware, but he enabled and protected abusers in service of pushing his ideology all while the church sang his praises. Disclaimer: At no point in this do I feel I deliberately lied or exaggerated, but these are 20 year old memories of a traumatized 13 year old who was never given the full story. I tried to leave hearsay out, but I did find out what happened to Dan through the grapevine, though from someone I believe completely. If there are minor inaccuracies, I do apologize, but I believe I have been accurate in the larger points.
Names are changed for obvious reasons, though my change style switched cause I am bad at coming up with names when stressed, my D&D group will confirm, and this is stressful to write about even now.
The Advent Home I attended is shut and a very attractive hotel now. My research showed he partnered closely with miracle meadows, which is also now shut. If by chance Dr. Senior is still practicing somewhere, or has appointed a successor, please persuade family to look closely and critically at his practices before signing anything. He used to complain kids were manipulative but, as with all projectors, he was the master manipulator. He convinced people to consent to incredible things. I believe everyone can change if they want and as far as I know he had the education to do good work. Instead, he chose to ignore that education in service of his biases. Unless he has updated his treatment, please at the very least accompany his work with another well regarded psychologist.

Background
Canary Islands is a Spanish archipelago of volcanic nature located in the eastern Atlantic ocean, just west of southern Morocco. The chain of islands extends for approximately 490 kilometers (300 miles).
Canary Islands is both geologically and climatologically almost identical to Hawaii, and as such, international tourism has been the main pillar of its economy since the 1960s.
The Event
At around 10:15 PM of June 22nd, 1976, emergency services in all the main seven islands received a flood of calls, with people reporting having seen a strange and frightening phenomenon taking place in the night sky. Most of these callers described what they were seeing as 'a gigantic explosion of light' or 'a massive ball of fire', and all of them said the phenomenon seemed to be taking place somewhere far in the west. These accounts were quickly confirmed true by local authorities, since the 'explosion of light' in question shone for several minutes before dissipating.
Many witnesses also added having seen one or two much smaller red lights moving strangely before the 'explosion' took place -rising from the horizon or from behind the mountains at very high speed, although others added that the lights flew following 'a zig-zag trajectory'.
No sound was heard or reported regarding the phenomenon, and no consequences seemed to follow except for a frightened population.
A foreign tourist vacationing in the island of Gran Canaria took the only known legit picture available of the phenomenon, from the balcony of his hotel room in Maspalomas. Here you can see a bigger version of the picture with enhanced contrast.
Here's a drawing extracted from an official report made by the Spanish Air Force. The drawing depicts a description of the event made with the information gathered from witnesses reports in the western coast of Gran Canaria. The mountains in the drawing are a depiction of the silhouette of Tenerife, the island immediately west of Gran Canaria. In order to understand the extreme magnitude of the 'explosion of light', please take into account that Tenerife is 70 kilometers (44 miles) away and its tallest peak -Mount Teide, which is in fact Spain's tallest mountain- is 3,718 meters tall (12,198 feet). Here's a real picture of the landscape depicted in the drawing, for a better perspective.
Hong Kong's bulk carrier vessel Osaka Bay was sailing from Capetown (South Africa) to Southampton (United Kingdom). The event took place when she was some 400 kilometers (250 miles) south of the island of La Gomera, and her crew did also witness the phenomenon. Here's a drawing made out of their witness reports.
The crew of the Spanish Navy's corvette Atrevida (F-61) observed the phenomenon as she was sailing just south of the island of Fuerteventura. Her captain's account of the event;
"At 22:27 local time of June 22nd it was seen, for the first time, a bright light of an intense bluish yellow color, taking off and rising in altitude towards our position... Once it reached certain height (15º-18º) it stood still, turning its light projection and showing its light source. It remained like that for approximately two minutes, before bursting into a large circle of bright bluish yellow light that remained in that position for forty minutes even after the original preceding phenomenon had faded away.
Two minutes later the light source split, its lower half being smaller and standing in the middle of the circle of light, turning into a bluish cloud as the split half that had originated this bluish mass faded away. The upper half gained altitude while describing a fast but irregular spiraling trajectory, vanishing afterwards. None of these movements had any effect whatsoever on the initial circle of light, whose features remained the same, partially illuminating land and sea, which leads to believe that it wasn't an object far in the distance, but rather close".
Here's the translation of local newspaper excerpts detailing the event;
"It was spotted between 10:15 and 10:30 PM and, according to one of our journalists who has his residence at Valle de Aridane (La Palma island), at that time he observed something that looked like a rocket emerging from the sea and flying towards El Time peak shining with an intense red light. The same phenomenon was spotted in Tazacorte (in La Palma island too). The ferry Villa de Agaete, sailing from Las Palmas, could observe a great shining at exactly 10:20 PM, shortly before docking in Santa Cruz de Tenerife. The shining, which lasted about five minutes, appeared like a rocket that had come out of the sea". - El Día (June 23rd, 1976)
"Last night, at around half past ten, a strange object was spotted from several points of our region, especially in the areas of Gáldar and Telde (Gran Canaria), where most phone calls we received in that regard were from. Our callers explained to us that it was a round object that grew massively in size as it rose, clearly defined before it began to fade.
The aforementioned phenomenon began as a couple of red objects that moved in zig-zag, forming into some sort of spiral whose lower half ended in three clearly differentiated but overlaying stripes with some degree of separation between them. They were of a very bright red color and faded gradually. On top of these stripes there was what looked like two powerful blue focal lights, which began to diminish in intensity too before turning into a thin haze afterwards". - La Provincia (June 23rd, 1976)
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Thanks to these accounts and description of the events, calculations could be made in order to ascertain the phenomenon's origins. At the moment of its beginning (which many witnesses described as a rocket taking off) the sun was already 13.7º under the horizon and its azimuth angle was 307º (northwest). Setting a hypothetical POV in the geographical center of the archipelago (28.50º N, 15.75º W, just north of Gran Canaria, it was calculated that during it's first phase (the 'rocket lights') the phenomenon was located some 762 kilometers (473 miles) straight west, at an approximate altitude of 46 kilometers (28 miles). By the end of its final phase (the 'explosion of light') it had traveled to a point located at around 1,062 kilometers (662 miles) west and had risen to a final altitude of 90 kilometers (56 miles).
These calculations became a very important piece of data, we'll get back to them later.
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The UFO/Aliens narrative (AKA the press cherry-picks the statement of one particularly imaginative witness in order to sell a story of very questionable credibility)
Being the 1970s, almost immediately certain sectors of the press began talking about UFO -and subsequently about aliens, even though there was no further evidence to suggest such thing. The local authorities (the Army especially) focused their efforts into reassuring the population that there was nothing to fear, while at the same time gathering all the information they could gather in order to investigate the phenomenon.
In June of 1994, exactly eighteen years after that night, the Spanish Army declassified the 107-pages long investigation report of what by then it had been baptized as the "OVNI de Canarias 22/06/1976" ("Canary Islands' 06/22/1976 UFO"). Back then very few people in Spain had internet access, and as such the release of these documents went unnoticed for most people. However, many journalists rushed to get a copy of the report, and many of these worked for UFO/paranormal magazines of dubious scientific accuracy. And, aware of the kind of reaction they wanted to generate from the public they target, they focused in just one part of the report; Dr. Padrón's story.
Francisco Julio Padrón León (who passed away in 2013) was a general practitioner that lived and had his office in the rural municipality of Gáldar, which is located precisely in the northwestern part of the island of Gran Canaria (and precisely, where a lot of people reported witnessing the phenomenon. Unlike most witnessed, however, Padrón told Spanish authorities a much more extravagant version of the events.
That night he had been called in person to check on a local patient at her home, and the doctor had called a taxi in order to reach the patient's residence; Padrón lived in the town of Guía, and the patient lived at a small parish some 10 kilometers away (6 miles) named Las Rosas. Padrón, his companion and the taxi driver claimed having observed the phenomenon when the car was covering the last two kilometers of the route (at that point, a very narrow and barely paved rural road). Or more specifically, Padrón and the taxi driver claimed having bumped into it; because, according to the statement, at that moment the car's headlights illuminated a sphere that was floating right in front of them. The Padrón and the taxi driver described it as measuring some 30 meters (98 feet), slightly bright and slightly translucent. They (the doctor, especially) described seeing two humanoid entities inside the sphere, surrounded by what looked to be inner aluminum structural parts of the sphere. These figures were, per their statements, between 2.5 and 3 meters tall (8'2" to 9'10"), one taller than the other, and they were dressed in red skin-tight suits. Padrón claimed that these beings stood facing each other, apparently interacting among them but didn't seem to notice his or the taxi driver's presence. It then began to grow in size until (his words) "becoming as big as a 20-story building" and began ascending. At this point of his statement he said he went to check on her patient, after which he told all people present at the patients' home, inviting everyone to go outside and check by themselves what he claimed he had seen. By the time everyone joined Dr. Padrón to watch, the sphere was already very big, standing high in the sky and then it flew away at extreme speed ("faster than any aircraft I've seen in my life", Padrón said in the report) leaving a trail of blue smoke behind before vanishing in the distance, towards Tenerife island.
In his individual report, the taxi driver made just a very skimp corroboration of Padrón's statement, omitting most details of his version of the phenomenon. It was just a few sentences long. The taxi driver was a man in his sixties (and wore glasses) of very little formal education -in fact, his preliminary handwritten statement had to be redacted to correct numerous grammar and spelling mistakes.
As for the companion (a relative of the patient, who was traveling in the backseat), this man only describes seeing "intense bright light everywhere" and noticing "both the doctor and the taxi driver's agitation". He claimed the amount of light, plus the fact that by sitting in the backseat the taxi driver and the doctor's bodies blocked his view, hadn't allowed him to see what Padrón claimed having witnessed.
The declassified document contained many more witness reports gathered from the same area, but none of them matched Dr. Padrón's story about a sphere with two humanoids figures in it; every other description -most of them provided by locals- mentions the same enormous disc of light in the west night sky. A car mechanic and his wife described it as "a car's headlight thrice as large as the full moon". A school teacher mentioned having seen it from his house's window through a pair of binoculars when it began to fade, noticing its "fog-like appearance, and the night stars could be seen through", and mentioning what looked like a couple of bluish beams inside. A farmer explained in his statement that it looked like "a fire spot", he too mentioned seeing "two blue lines" in it. Not even the sick woman Padrón had come to provide medical attention to nor her relatives confirmed the Dr.'s description of the phenomenon, matching instead everyone else's.
That didn't stop the journalists working for UFO/paranormal-themed magazines or even some journalists working for reputable newspapers from disregarding all these credible witnesses and instead focusing on the most outlandish one; Dr. Padrón. In summer of 1994, several of these Spanish magazines like Enigmas, Año Cero or Más Allá rushed to publish a drawing depicting Padrón's description of the 'humanoid figures dressed in red' in their articles, not only making absolutely no mention of any of the other witnesses but also claimed that the propulsion system of the alleged 'alien spacecraft' had scorched a nearby onion field -the area is full of that type of crops- and that posterior chemical analysis of the scorched terrain had yielded wildly unusual results. We'll come back to this point later.
Sketch depicting Padrón's (unique, literally) description of the event. Yes, someone from the Army - more specifically from the Air Force- was tasked with sitting down next to this guy and spending a good deal of time drawing whatever ludicrous thing Padrón felt like coming up with.
Something worth mentioning; these publications made heavy emphasis on Padrón's education -he was a GP, after all. As in, as extraordinary as his claims were, these were being made by a man of a high level of education, intelligent and therefore (in the eyes of many) automatically worth of credibility. In fact, the patient's relative traveling in the taxi's backseat -a farmhand that had never received formal schooling and was illiterate- said in his witness report that one of the reasons why he did not question Padrón's statement was precisely the abysmal difference in education between him and the doctor, and kind of assumed that if an educated man like Padrón said that such thing had indeed happened, then it must have been true.
A local newspaper interviewed Dr. Padrón shortly after the documents were declassified. And by then, eighteen years after that night, Padrón added some more details to his already bizarre account, providing these journalists with something that wouldn't have been out of place in an episode of The X-Files (which back in 1994 had begun to be broadcasted in Spain, with significant success). Back in 1976 Padrón had already added in his statement that he did not feel fear but 'a strange sense of wellbeing and excitement' in his encounter with the alleged spacecraft; now he was also saying that these beings -which never communicated with him in any way, per his account- had not only the ability to erase anyone's memories off their brains, but they also can "make you see whatever they want you to do for months or years, replacing an 'energy' [his word] in your brain". If these statements weren't absurd enough, Dr. Padrón warned the journalists about not taking him seriously, because in the last three years he "had observed that anyone who had been skeptical of my statements and hurt my credibility in public has passed away within six or seven months, all of them to cancer, eight people in total so far".
Although the documents that included the description of his ludicrous story hadn't been declassified until 1994, ever since 1976 many journalists had managed to get in touch with Padrón and hear his story -the doctor himself wasn't exactly quiet about it either -and some of these are allegedly the cancer victims Padrón would've been referring to. There's no way to check the veracity of that, since the only source of that statement was Padrón himself.
Between 1976 and 1994 the doctor's story circulated in a somewhat obscure manner, being referred to in some UFO articles here and there -and adding their own artistic depictions of his outlandish story. Padrón was already telling any 'paranormal' journalist willing to listen about the scorched onion field. Turned out, back in June of 1976 a farmer in the municipality of Guía did indeed notice an area in one of his onion crops that seemed to have been burned, but that man had specified that that hadn't happened until the morning of June 24th, a good day and half after Padrón's alleged 'alien encounter'. What is more, although the cause of these burns couldn't be ascertained, they were indistinguishable from fire damage. To this day it's thought that these burnt onion plants were nothing but the result of vandalism or a prank. Some UFO skepticism authors have raised the possibility of the doctor himself being responsible.
Picture of one of the many onion fields in Guía and Gáldar. To this day, Dr. Padrón's 'scorched onion field' remains a running joke among the older residents in these municipalities.
At the time Padrón even managed, out of sheer insistence, to get that soil tested. Surprisingly to no one, all chemical, physical and radiological analyses performed yielded no unusual results. The sampling and testing was conducted by Hungarian-Spanish physician Alejandro Carlos de Gyorko-Gyorkos, who at the time was curious about paranormal phenomena and had interviewed Padrón many times in 1976. According to a journalist for Naukas (A Spanish online science and technology magazine that specializes in skepticism and debunking of pseudoscience), in 1992 Gyorko-Gyorkos described Padrón as a man that "interprets everything he comes up with as real". By 1994 Padrón was also claiming that the Spanish Air Force had threatened him with legal action to silence him, and that Gyorko-Gyorkos was a man whose "ethics he'd rather not talk about". Padrón had never mentioned these alleged legal threats at any point before June of that year, precisely once the documents were declassified, a coincidence that hadn't gone unnoticed.
Some skepticism authors have elucubrated about the possible inspiration for Padrón's 'tall men in dressed in red spacesuits'. Not exactly very original.
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Explanation (1994 and 2001)
The 1976 document concludes that the origen of the 22/06/976 UFO -although in reality the Spanish Air force used then the acronym FANI (Fenómeno Aéreo No Identificado', 'Unidentified Aerial Phenomenon') when referring to it- was unknown. In 1994 these paranormal journalists presented such conclusion as an automatic evidence of aliens, or at least UFOs in the sense popular culture depicts then. In reality, as anyone can notice upon checking the report, 'unknown' means precisely that; unknown. At no point in the report the authors bring up rebuttals for any possible logical or rational explanation, but rather they conclude that back in 1976 there was just not enough evidence to provide an accurate explanation of its origin.
The same report contains the transcription of precisely Dr. Gyorko-Gyorkos's opinion about Dr. Padrón's reasoning (safe to assume, by then had already made up his mind about the man) in a military court. In the transcription, and in what looks like a generous maneuver to dismiss Padrón's claims without going as far to humiliate him, Gyorko-Gyorkos explains a military judge that that night Dr. Padrón, possibly overworked and sleep-deprived, misremembered what had seen and his fatigued psyche had create a mixed recollection with what he had seen and what had crossed his mind. As for the taxi driver, this man was probably highly impressionable -apparently the Dr. had behaved in a very excited manner during the phenomenon- and thus in a way Padrón had 'passed' his delusional belief onto him. The military court ruled that "Padrón's credibility could not, for the time being, be corroborated".
Of course, at this point of this writeup a question still lingers; what was whatever thing close to a million and half people saw in the night sky back on June 22nd, 1976? First, let's go over the world's state of affairs at the time, because this is one of these 'mysteries' in which history had been hinting at the answer almost from the beginning;
In 1976 the world was still amidst of a low-key conflict between two superpowers with lots of political tensions; the United States (plus NATO) versus the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics (plus other members of the Warsaw Pact). AKA, Cold War. As part of the Western Bloc, at the time Spain had been a long-time ally of NATO. However, the country wouldn't become a NATO member itself until 1982 -which was so controversial within Spain that a referendum would be held in 1986 questioning Spanish people's desire to remain in the military alliance.
As such, while Spain was a Western ally, back in 1976 it was not really 'in the game' yet, especially when taking into account that, unlike in other countries, NATO membership wasn't that welcome. Please notice the year the Spanish army declassified the documents; 1994. The collapse of the Soviet Union in 1991 (and with it , the fall of the Iron Curtain) helped lower the stakes this international poker game, and as such the world would learn about all sorts of crazy things that had been going on at both sides of the conflict in absolute secrecy.
Earlier in this writeup there is a data-based description of the phenomenon's behavior, but most importantly, it's ballistic trajectory. Adding to that, countless witnesses had described seeing either one or a couple of lights 'taking off like a rocket'. Let's remember; it had been ascertained that it originated at about 700 kilometers west and had moved further west in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean while reaching an altitude of 90 kilometers -which is about the lower thermosphere. This had already raised the first suspicions among the members of the Spanish intelligence services, suspicions that gained weight in 1994 -and that likely led to the declassification of the report- when much clearer and straightforward communication between the United States' government and Spain's allowed for a more open investigation of the sort of testing the Americans were engaging in. In 2001 an article of research journalism, coauthored by science journalists Ricardo Campo and Vicente-Juan Ballester Olmos finally identified what was behind the 1976 aerial phenomenon.
Campo and Ballester had already noticed its ballistic trajectory calculated in 1976. In 1999, suspecting already who (country) was the 'culprit', they accessed Jonathan McDowell's database of ballistic missile launches. Previous to that Campo and Ballester had failed to find any useful information in NASA's archives, as none of the launches in their registry matched the evidence, and prior to that -right after the 1994 declassification, in fact- they had traveled to Moscow looking for the possible explanation there. Russian military authorities had adamantly denied their involvement in the phenomena, which directed the investigators towards other leads (while at the same time not disregarding the possibility of Russia being behind it after all.
Finally, Campo and Ballester bumped into these two rows of the database. First column indicates the launch identification number. Second and third, the date (in the Julian and Gregorian calendars. Fourth is GMT time (which, adjusting for a compilation error, coincides with Canary Islands' GMT+1 local time when the phenomenon took place). The fifth column tells the type of missile, the sixth on identifies the launch platform and finally the seventh one indicates who was responsible for the launch.
Simply put, the information in these rows means; on June 22nd, 1976, two Poseidon C3 thermonuclear missiles were launched from US Navy's submarine USS Von Steuben), at 20:16 and 20:17 GTM.
The database does not include location (that information remains classified) but during their research Campo and Ballester learned from McDowell himself that the US Navy's eastern test range covers from Cape Canaveral (Florida, US) all the way Ascension Island. The location of the 1976's phenomenon falls well within such range.
From here, Campos and Ballester offered an explanation of its optics. The Poseidon C3 missile carries several 40-kiloton nuclear warheads (normally ten) -for comparison, Little Boy was a single 15-kiloton bomb. Once the two 400-kiloton missiles detonated in the thermosphere, the quick expansion of extremely hot atmospheric gases reflected the sunlight back to Earth, even though by then in Canary Islands the sun was already well below the horizon and the sky was pitch black; at 90 kilometers of altitude, these expanding gases were still in direct path of the sunlight. This reflection is what made the phenomenon appear so bright and big in spite of the 700+ kilometers of distance between witnesses and its source.
Campo and Ballester's article provided also an explanation for other similar events -albeit not that espectacular as the one pertaining this writeup- that had taken place in the islands between 1973 and 1979. All except one were found to be the result of other American thermonuclear tests, with the exception of this one seen south of the archipelago in 1979 -and finally acknowledged by Russia in 2017, although they did not explain what exactly it was.
Conclusion
TL;DR: It was a couple of thermonuclear missiles launched in secrecy by the US Navy in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. The 'aliens' witness was, to put it mildy, an individual with an extreme tendency to make ludicrous statements and a marked need to be the centre of attention.
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Campo and Ballester's work is available online for free, and anyone who speak Spanish can check the story of their investigation for themselves.
This is not to say that the whole 'aliens' narrative died down. To this day, the story of the 1976 phenomenon continues to be shared sometimes in media as 'proof' of UFO/aliens, even though it's literally neither -coincidentally, failing to mention the vast amount of evidence pointing at a thermonuclear test. In June of 2016 several newspapers published articles remembering the phenomenon in its 40th anniversary, and pretty much all of them reminded the reader right from the headline that the 'mystery' had long been solved.
Links and Sources
"Two red giants riding a missile" - Excellent article in the aforementioned online magazine Naukas written by Ricardo Campo himself on the phenomenon (Spanish)
The Spanish Army's declassified document on the event. It can be downloaded for free as a 107-pages long PDF
2016 Article (Spanish)