I’m a 24 years old male, from Italy. Today was my first day at work since my family opened our hotel for summer and I work at the front desk.
We had a group of musicians staying over for lunch and one older man kept glancing at me and stopping by to chat.
I like my job and I like being nice to people so I thought nothing of it… I’m gay and I use grindr but I hadn’t used it at work, that man came to me and showed me one of my profile pictures and asked if it was me. I awkwardly said yes and he said he would ask me something later. I did my work and eventually he came to pay. After he paid he asked me to come to his room, and I said of course not. That’s when he started to push me into helping him with his bags cause he had arm/legs issues.
I knew… what he was up to and I told him: okay I’ll help you bring your stuff downstairs but nothing more.
I followed him outside his room and he pushed me in and locked the door. He stood there and he started to grab me and touch me in my private parts. I was so confused and I don’t know why I didn’t react, he kept trying to put his hands under my pants and I tried pushing him away but I tried to keep nice as I always am and that’s when he kissed me with the tongue. I tried to tell him I didn’t want to and tried and tried until eventually he let me go. He left the hotel and I still helped him with the bags. After he left I started shaking and I’ve been crying since this afternoon. It’s 1 am and I feel sick, almost like I have a fever. I talked to my family but I don’t know what to do, I feel sick and disgusted. I don’t know why things went that way and I think I might have led him to think I was interested cause I still helped him with his bags… when will the crying stop? I’m scared to sleep

Posting on my profile, the AITA mods denied this update on their sub which is fine.
Original post here
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She had another long fit last night. For two hours there was a lot of screaming and crying. Per some of your suggestions, I recorded some of it from my room at different intervals. I sent it in the housemate group chat with the following message:
“This is what I’m hearing night after night. It keeps me awake and at this point I feel like complete garbage every day because I can’t sleep. Can we address this tomorrow before I complain to the landlord.”
Well the housemate didn’t take too kindly to that and we had an argument (at 3 AM). He once again said I was an “unsympathetic AH.” He claimed to be good friends with the landlord and threatened to have my tenancy terminated if I complained. When I brought up the fact that I pay rent and she doesn’t he said she’s been paying rent to him which he then adds to his payment to the landlord. I let it go because I was too damn tired to be carrying on an argument.
​
This morning I had a conversation with the GF. She said the episodes are triggered by medication she uses to treat some sleep disorders/mental health concerns and she’s partially aware of the episodes occurring. She expressed why it’s important to her to stay in a less toxic environment than her home but I also tried to explain how badly this is impacting me. She and I are at an impasse. We both sympathize with the other but don’t want to budge on our stances.
​
Then the housemate blew up because she and I had talked about it. At this point the other guys were home too and it was honestly a chaotic mess of everyone talking/shouting over each other. I still have a headache from it. The landlord is supposed to be coming to inspect some maintenance issues later this week and I am going to tell him everything while he’s here.
​
The housemate is calling me an AH because the complaint might result in her having to stay at her place (odd because I thought he was "good friends" with the landlord) which is not a good environment for her emotionally. Surprisingly the other housemates are also saying I’m the AH because they’re afraid this will put them in jeopardy. I think their opinions would be different if they actually went through it while they were trying to sleep during the day.
​
At this point I am just going to be trying to sleep and pack because I don’t see this ending well.

In hindsight, I should have listened to the kill-bill alarm bells in my head when eight-year-old Cassie announced she and her cabin mates were going to skip out on camp activities and play Operation instead.
Though it’s not like I didn’t have things on my mind. Seven counsellors had gone missing—along with our head counsellor who was supposed to be taking care of us.
It started out fairly normal. I mean, one or two counselors wasn’t bad, right?
Lily and Joey had been drowning in sexual tension for a while, so nobody was surprised when they sneaked into the woods for what I could only guess was the most uncomfortable sex ever. But then they didn’t come back.
Teddy and Yuri went to look for them, and then they too also disappeared. It was almost like a wild animal was lying in wait for another unsuspecting teenager to cross its path.
With six of us left, I was definitely freaking out.
I wasn’t expecting summer camp to be like this. I did consider working in my local Sephora, but mom had a preference—and whether I was eighteen years old or not, she was getting her way. So, it was goodbye civilization, and hello Canadian wilderness.
There were fifteen kids queued up in front of me for lunch, and I was having a hard time keeping that optimistic Camp Redwood smile.
I couldn’t help constantly counting how many hours it had been since the latest disappearance, Connor.
He was supposed to be helping with getting the emergency generator going, after the electricity sizzled out.
The boy was gone an hour later. This was happening fast. Whatever was going on with the counsellors was burning through all of us. Would it happen to me?
I had seen so many TV shows and movies set in a summer camp where every camper and counsellor was doomed to die in the grossest way possible. Was that going to happen to us?
I tightened my grip around the stupid ladle I had found myself stirring, a giant pot of chocolate syrup. Watching watery chocolate drip from the edge, I felt nauseous. Of all the summer camp’s mom had to send me to, it had to be the one with vanishing counsellors and zero adult authority. Which meant we were the authority. Twelve teenagers who came to relax and babysit a bunch of little kids before college.
We had to put on brave faces and pretend everything was absolutely fine—and we weren’t all terrified out of our fucking minds.
At the corner of my eye, I glimpsed Harry offering piggybacks to a bunch of little kids, with one of the littles, Eleanor, wrapping her arms around his neck and squealing.
From the look on the boy’s face, he wanted to stop. It was hard to keep a façade when reality was becoming harder and harder to bear. Abandoning his hat completely, Harry was dripping with sweat, trying to twist his lips into the Camp Redwood grin. But looking closer, as he galloped across the cabin with Eleanor holding on for dear life, the guy was ready to collapse. I didn’t blame him.
Entertaining the kids was supposed to be Teddy’s assignment—and he was who knows where. I had taken over lunch duties for Lily, who had joined the long list of the missing.
Harry was supposed to be joining the search party for the missing councellors, but had ended up becoming the little’s personal punching bag.
When I first met him, Harry Carlisle had been the kid who sat on the side-lines and offered sarcastic remarks and crude jokes. Now, he had been reduced to a playground ride the kids pretended didn’t have an off switch.
He had enjoyed maybe the first two rides to raise morale, but now I could see the strain in his eyes. “Ow!” Harry winced when the little girl’s fingers prodded at his eyes. “Hey! Eleanor, not my eyes!” He was dangerously close to toppling over, though managed to catch his footing, ordering all of them off of his back. “Horse Rides are over!” He cupped his mouth, shouting across the cabin when a group of kids surrounded him with equally terrifying faces. Harry backed away and threw his hands up. “Come on, guys, my back isn’t built for all of you!”
“Horsey!” The kids shouted back in a cacophony of giggles.
It was 10 against one.
Against two, if I got involved. Which wasn’t going to happen. There was no way I was putting effort into play-fighting a bunch of eight-year-olds. Harry shot me a hopeful look, though I pretended not to see, busying myself with slightly burned nuggets.
Running his fingers through thick strands of sandy colored hair, Harry pulled a face when a little girl, Phoebe, was brave enough to step forward.
“No.” Harry shook his head, squeezing the front of his counsellor shirt practically glued to him. The temperature still hadn’t let up, and it was heading towards 8PM. Night-time, I thought dizzily. It was almost bedtime, and still no adults. “I refuse to surrender,” He told her. “Phoebe, I am not joking around when I’m saying my back is hurting. We’ve been playing horsey’s for two hours.”
“So?”
“So!” Harry couldn’t yell or hiss, or swear at them. That was a big no-no with kids.
However, I could see he was coming close to breaking that rule. “Because I’m tired,” he said through a Camp Redwood grin, which was quickly twitching into a grimace.
I think all of us had given up with the fake enthusiasm when our colleagues started to vanish. Now, we were just shells of our former happy selves. “And… uh… did you know that if you ride a horsey at this time, the ghosts will come and get you?”
When a boy opened his mouth, his eyes widening with fright, Harry realized his mistake.
“I mean the nice ghosts! Yeah! The uh, the nice ghosts who haunt..I mean play in these woods? It’s a well-known Camp Redwood legend that ghosts don’t like horse rides. In fact,” his lips curved into a devilish smile now he had several faces staring at him. The kids dropped onto the ground to listen, their hands clasped in their laps. This was the quietest they had been all day. I could understand though. Harry had taken the reins around the campfire telling ghost stories for three nights in a row, and the guy was a damn good storyteller.
With every eye on him, Harry lowered his voice into a whisper. “Do you guys want to know what they do?”
The kids nodded with wide eyes.
“They sneak into unsuspecting cabin’s…”
“Harry.”
Rowan’s voice came from outside in a warning. The window was open, and the guy was standing watch to see if any counsellors came back. Since the only adult had disappeared, he had been appointed leader—and the guy was taking himself a little too seriously.
His warning was valid though. Sometimes Harry’s ghost stories were a little too scary for little kids, who’s Imaginations tended to run wild—especially at night. Olive, my cabin-mate, had to give up her bed for a little girl who was convinced Harry’s depiction of Slenderman, “The tree boy” was going to sneak into her bed and turn her into an apple seed.
“Did I say sneak into cabin’s? I meant dance around the woods…” Harry corrected himself. “And they look for their next unsuspecting victim…”
“Harry!”
“Friend.” Harry swallowed his words when a little boy’s eyes went wide. “I mean they are looking for a friend! So, the point of my story is…”
“Horsey rides get us new friends?” Phoebe wasn’t buying it. I could tell from the slight arch of her brow and her widening smile.
The girl shook dark curls out of her face, smirking. I think it was her pleading eyes which won him over. Because, with a sigh which definitely wasn’t joking around, the guy dropped onto his knees and practically spat at her to climb on his back—and she did, plonking one sparkling shoe on top of the boy’s spine with enough force to send him onto his stomach. I might have been imagining it, but since when were these littles so outlandishly spiteful?
The little girl was grinning. Not because she could ride her “horsey” but because Harry looked like he was going to either wring her neck, or wring his own. Mom had a “talk” before I started here, and she made sure to tell me that if adult authority is nowhere to be seen, little kids will start to act out.
I could definitely call it acting out, but I had spent all day with her several days earlier playing with dolls and having a teddy bear picnic when she admitted she didn’t want to swim in the lake with the other kids. Phoebe had been shy and only spoke to me through her teddy bear, so what had changed?
Could the lack of adults really be scaring the kids that much?
“Miss Josie?”
I wasn’t paying attention, half noticing some kids had just helped themselves, piling chicken nuggets and cookies on plastic plates and hurrying to their seats like I couldn’t see them.
Blinking away brain fog, I found myself face to face with Eli, who was probably my favorite camper.
You’re not supposed to have personal preferences when working with little kids, because your opinions could upset them.
However, it was incredibly hard not to like Eli.
Hiding behind a mop of brown curls, the boy was one of the more vocal kids in the group. Eli said he wanted to be an inventor when he was older, and he wanted to make robots. The kid had asked me if I wanted to see his robot collection, but I was too busy with setting up camp activities. Standing in front of me and clutching his tray, the boy was frowning.
“Josie, I just saw some kids steal chicken nuggets.”
I shrugged, shovelling a large portion on his tray. “Well, you can have some extra too.”
Eli’s smile wasn’t as big as usual. “Where’s Teddy?”
I pretended to be oblivious, hastily adding more nuggets to his tray as if I could keep his mouth shut with extra food. “He’ll be back soon! Teddy is just playing in the woods.”
“No, he’s not.”
At first, I thought I’d heard the boy wrong. The kid wasn’t looking at me, counting his nuggets as usual with the prongs of his plastic fork.
I leaned forward with my best smile. “I’m sorry, what was that, Eli?”
The kid lifted his head with a wide grin. “Can I borrow a knife, Josie?”
“Why do you need a knife?”
Leaning forward, the boy shrugged. “There’s a squirrel caught in a trap,” he said. “I want to put it out of its misery, Miss Josie. It’s in a lot of pain.”
That was… dark.
“Well, I can’t give you a knife…” I trailed off, my gaze finding Harry and the growing line of kids awaiting a horse-ride. “But! How about you go and ask Harry for a piggy-back ride?” I pointed to myself with a forced grin. “I’ll save the squirrel!” And when the boy’s eyes filled with tears and he shook his head, I reached out, grasped his hand, and squeezed it as tight as I could. “Eli, we don’t need to do that, okay? I’m sure the squirrel can be saved and I’ll make sure to take it to the vet, okay?”
“But what if it doesn’t need saving?”
I squeezed tighter. “I’ll save it, Eli. I promise.”
Eli didn’t look convinced, but he nodded with a grumble. “Okay.” He said, before twisting around and joining the other kids torturing Harry. Immediately, I left my station—whether Rowan liked it or not—and headed outside to look for this supposedly dying squirrel. That was something we didn’t need. The sky was darkening when I made it into the woods, cotton candy clouds blurring through the thick canopy of trees. Eli said it was near the sign pointing towards the lake. Though I couldn’t see anything. Odd. That thought retracted in my head, however, when I stepped forward, and a squelching sound cut through the silence of my own heavy breaths mixing with insect chitters and nightlife buzzing above me and beneath me. The wet sounding squelch twisted my gut, and when I stared down at the ground, I didn't know what I was expecting.
A squashed squirrel, perhaps? In Eli’s words, the poor thing had been on the edge of death. Though, when I was thinking about it, there were no animal traps around camp. That was basic health and safety. So, what the fuck was I looking at? The bottom of my shoe was caked in dried blood, but it was the thing which was stamped into the dirt which sent my heart into my throat. It looked like an eye.
But looking closer as I lowered myself to the ground, I glimpsed something metallic, something glistening around the pupil. I picked up a stick and prodded it, though the thing didn’t move. It was definitely an eye—the eye of some kind of animal, judging from the pigmentation and the color of the iris.
But it was the metallic pieces around the eye which was throwing me off. Part of a trap, maybe? It wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility that a poor critter had been ripped apart, and a wild bear had dropped its dinner near the camp—and the metal encasing its eye was most likely pieces of trap.
Peering closer, though, I glimpsed silver slithers in what appeared to be the destroyed nerve caked to my shoe. After scraping most of it off, I caught glistening pieces of blood stained metal catching the late-setting sun. This time, I pinched a piece between my forefinger and thumb. It didn’t look like a bear-trap. The metal itself wasn’t serrated or old. In fact, it was new.
Which begged the question: What was this thing?
Whatever it was, it had started converting what looked like a critter’s eye, before stopping. Was it a virus? When that thought slammed into me, I fell back with a hiss, swiping my hands on my shirt.
“What are you doing?”
I almost jumped out of my skin, diving to my feet.
Carmel was standing behind me, grasping what looked like her sixth or seventh coffee. The girl had been running to and from the coffee machine all day, and I had been silently counting how much caffeine she was consuming. Carmel had been a well put together and fairly popular girl when camp started. She immediately had everyone following her beck and call, all of the boy’s (and girl’s) following her around.
Carmel wasn't straight. She made that clear on the bus to camp, announcing she wasn’t interested in guy’s, and that she had a girlfriend back home. Still though, the guy’s still followed her because... well, she was pretty.
Carmel was my bunk-mate and had woken me up on three separate occasions at 6am to go through the exact same hair and makeup routine. Now though, there was no sign of makeup or even that she had brushed her hair.
Instead of its usual tidy blonde ponytail, Carmel’s curls were tied into raggedy pigtails with ribbons I was sure she had stolen from a camper’s doll. I think what was keeping her going was coffee.
Carmel regarded me with too-wide eyes and a Camp Redwood smile we all knew was fake. She was grasping onto her coffee cup for dear life. “Josie!” she jumped when I jumped, which almost made me laugh. “Rowan’s having an emergency meeting in his cabin,” she said.
“So, whatever you’re doing can wait.”
Her gaze flicked to the ground. “What… are you doing?”
For a brief moment, I considered telling Carmel I may have found what looked like a virus which turned flesh and blood to metal—before I remembered her reaction when a spider had crept into our cabin.
Whatever this thing was, keeping it a secret for now was probably what was best. Making sure I was standing on the thing, I shrugged. “I was looking for the others.”
Carmel cocked her head, before resting her coffee on the ground. “In the dirt?”
“Footprints, Carmel.”
The girl looked confused before shaking her head. “Okay, whatever. Tell the others I’ll be there in a sec, I just need to make sure the kids are okay. We’re putting a movie on for them in the lunch hall, so that will hopefully distract them for maybe two hours.”
I nodded. “Did anyone find a phone?”
“Not with signal.”
“Carmel.” I had to fight back the urge to yell at her to keep her voice down. Kids were curious, and I wouldn’t be surprised if we had some littles peeking into our conversation. “You’re okay.” I said softly.
“I mean, we’re not okay, because yes, things are very.. screwed up right now, but we need to be… optimistic.” I exhaled out a breath, searching for eyes in the dark. I tried to smile, tried to keep up that Camp Redwood façade we were all held hostage by until the last day of camp (According to rule 5 in the Camp Redwood counsellor handbook, all counsellors must retain a smile and a positive attitude. If any counselor is caught making a frowny face, or spreading what we call “unhappiness” we will be forced to send the counselor home).
At this point, I didn’t give a fuck—but part of me didn’t want to scare the little kids.
“No, Josie.” The girl grasped hold of my shoulders with a grin rivalling the joker. “I am so sick of being told to keep smiling, because what is that doing? Three of my cabin-mates are missing! I’m the one left, and Rowan and co expect me to keep up this act? We are fucked!"
She cupped her mouth. “F. U. C. K. E. D. We have zero adults, an unexplainable loss of power every few hours which makes no sense in the middle of nowhere—I mean what the fuck is out there which is sucking that much power, huh? There is no explanation! There should be an explanation. I should be able to think, “oh, yeah! That’s why! But no. Things are happening, and I don’t know why they’re happening. Rowan is trying to force us to act like things are okay —but in reality? He is shitting himself, Josie! We are ALL shitting ourselves!”
I took a step back, keeping hold of her hand. Carmel was trembling, her hands clammy and slimy entangled in mine. “He's just trying to keep the kids from freaking out."
She groaned, tears glistening in her eyes. “Okay, yeah! I’m blaming them because they keep acting like everything is okay—”
“Everything IS okay.” I turned to her with what I hoped was a reassuring smile—knowing damn well about the thing I’d found in the dirt. If that thing could spread, it would have a field day in an enclosed space like a summer camp.
I noticed my own hands which had been touching the thing making contact with Carmel, and dropped my hands, inwardly squirming.
If that thing was a virus, I was already fucked.
Maybe Carmel too.
If it was fast acting, it could explain the counsellor disappearances. I was already putting together a plan in my head as we headed back to the main cabin. We had to put together a search party. Some of us would stay with the kids, while a small group would venture into the woods to try and look for traces of the missing. If I was right, we would find a horror scene in the woods, and yes, that would be the time to panic.
If I was wrong, however, there was still hope.
“Are we going to be okay?”
Carmel’s voice sliced into my thoughts, and I took a moment to drink in the camp around us.
Usually, when the sky was turning twilight, it would be bustling with campers and counselors toasting marshmallows on the fire and gathering around to fall asleep to Harry’s ghost stories. Carmel would be knelt with a bunch of kids, watching a YouTube video they had all insisted on her watching, while Rowan would be hiding behind his book with his knees to his chest, his gaze glued to every page he flicked through, ignoring everyone.
Teddy, making funny faces for kids who were scared, and Connor, handing out plates of burgers and hot dogs. I remembered feeling safe and at home, cosy around the flickering orange of the fire as chatter turned to laughter and white-noise in my head. After the kids went back to their cabins, the group of us would resume positions around the fire, but this time it was more… intimate. With Allison in her cabin, we kind of ignored her rules all together.
Making out happened, because of course it did. Beers stolen from Allison’s mini fridge and raging hormones, as well as late-night skinny dipping in the lake did that. Couples went off into the woods, and we all felt completely comfortable and at home with each other.
Looking around at that moment, I felt sick to my stomach. That feeling was gone.
The feeling of family and familiarity and friendship. What I was looking at now was that same log we had all sat on, now turned on its side—hot dog buns and candy wrappers littering the ground. It was a ghost camp.
I could still see Connor’s jacket slung on the ground, and Lili’s bright pink ray bans sitting on a beer can. Because there were no adults to yell at us to clean up after ourselves. I was frowning at the skeleton of the fire when Carmel nudged me. “Hey.” Her voice was shaking slightly. “Josie? You didn’t answer my question.” Carmel wanted me to be the voice of reason, and I wasn’t that. I was just as scared as her.
There was only so much I could sugar-coat, and I gave up doing that after the third counsellor disappeared. All I could offer her was forced optimism.
“Yes.” I said. “Just keep the kids busy, alright?”
“Right.”
When I was twisting around and power-walking to Rowan’s cabin, I shouted over my shoulder, “Give them some of those animal crackers!”
“What animal crackers?”
I turned to elaborate, but Carmel was gone.
When I finally got to Rowan’s cabin, I was sweating through my shirt, and had an idea of what I was going to tell the others. It was… a thing. Which could be considered a disease or a virus—so it was vital that we split into two groups; half of us would search for the others, while the others would look for anything to get in contact with the outside world. An emergency landline, laptop, or cell phone.
I did have one problem, which was lack of evidence. All which was left from the thing I’d found was stuck to my foot. The rest of it was buried in the dirt. It was too dark to search for it, and we would be wasting time doing so.
All of that was in my mind and tangled on my tongue, one single string of incomprehensible gibberish I wasn’t even sure was English, when I stepped into Rowan’s cabin, where four sets of eyes met mine. Olive, cross legged on the floor with her arms folded, Harry, pacing up and down with a brand new bruise blooming under his eye, courtesy of Eleanor almost poking his eyes out—and Rowan himself sitting on top bunk, his legs swinging off of the side.
The guy wasn’t built to be our leader, originally being the laziest of our group, opting for sitting in a tree with a book, rather than helping set up camp activities. Yet he had become our default guy in charge because he so happened to be wearing the head counsellor hat when Allison disappeared. Admittedly, it suited him, the bright red of the cap contrasted his dark curls under a late setting sun through the back window, setting strands of straying hair on fire.
The hat was a little too big for his head, though, slipping over his eyes.
Rowan looked like a divorced father of two, dark circles bruising his eyes, and a very “dad-like” scowl curling on his lips.
With a clipboard pressed to his chest, and a pen he was chewing on, the boy resembled a grown man who had just caught his daughter coming in after curfew. “Josie.” Spitting the pen’s lid out of his mouth, he scribbled something down. I had no doubt he was tracking my attendance for these stupid crisis meetings. His eyes were wild, scanning me for answers. “Where the fuck is Carmel?”
I shut the door behind me, leaning against it with my arms folded. “So, we can swear now?”
“Yes.” Rowan rolled his eyes. “There are no kids here, so go crazy,” he pointed at me with the pen. “Carmel. Where is she?”
“Keeping the kids busy,” Callan’s muffled voice came from the bottom bunk. I could barely see the guy lying on his stomach, his face stuffed into a pillow. “It was my idea to play Shrek for them, but the little shits said they haven’t seen it,” the boy lifted his head, his lips carved into a scowl. “I’m sorry, am I tripping? Everyone’s seen Shrek! Do these kids expect the Minecraft movie?”
“They don’t like that, either,” Harry stopped pacing the cabin. “Eleanor looked at me like I was crazy when I asked if she liked it."
“Fortnite, too.” Olive said, a cushion pressed to her chest. “I suggested playing it a few days ago, and like, zero kids knew what it was.”
“Six counsellors are missing,” Rowan raised his voice over the other’s chatter. “And you’re questioning what games they like?” His eyes found mine once more. “So, Carmel is with the kids? You’re absolutely sure of it?”
I nodded. “Yeah. I mean, I just saw her five minutes ago.”
“Great.” Rowan said, sarcastically. “I’m sure she won’t go missing under mysterious circumstances.”
“Stop.” Olive shot him a glare, throwing a cushion in his face. “I told you. They’re probably lost—- or maybe they went to get help?”
“We’ve all been trained to know every inch of these woods,” Rowan catapulted the cushion right back at her. “They’re not lost.”
“Well, where are they?!” Callan sat up, bringing his knees to his chest. I had never seen the guy looked this vulnerable. “Allison made sense. She probably had other duties, and left us to look after the kids. But six counselors? All of them disappearing—- our phone signal completely cutting out, electricity cutting off, not once, but twice? What is even sucking all of our power?”
“I got the emergency generator working,” Olive raised her arm. “Connor and I managed it before…” she trailed off.
“Before Connor disappeared.” Callan finished for her. “And before him, it was Joey, Lily, Mira, Yuri, Noah, and Teddy. Which isn’t a fucking coincidence,” he shot Rowan a look, who glared down at his lap. I could tell the boy didn’t want to lead all of us, come up with plans and answer questions we desperately needed answering. His job was to look after us, as well as the littles, and so far, he was doing a pretty good job. I could tell by his expression that he thought the opposite, but he had managed to keep the kids from finding out about something as sinister as someone actively kidnapping counsellors.
He made sure they were fed, entertained, and safe watching a movie—while we were scared for our lives. Rowan was keeping up the façade no matter how scared he was. The boy dropped his head into his lap with a sigh. It looked like he might fall asleep before he slammed the clipboard into his face to wake himself up.
Nobody wanted to admit what Callan was saying, but we were all definitely thinking it. “This was planned.” Callan continued.
“Someone out here is fucking with us, very clearly trying to freak us out. Now they've got six of us. ” He spread out his arms. “How long until one of the littles gets taken, huh? A bunch of 18 year olds aren’t going to satisfy them, so what about when they start taking campers? We are in the middle of fuckin’ nowhere with a serial kidnapper on the loose, and did we really just leave fifteen kids in the care of a girl who thought Australia was in England?”
“In Carmel’s defence, she was black-out drunk when she said that,” Olive murmured.
“Voice down!” Rowan hissed. “Do you want to scare them?!” His gaze flicked to me. “Did you do a headcount during dinner?”
I nodded. “Fifteen kids all accounted for. Ten are in the lunch hall, and five girls are in Cassie’s cabin playing Operation.”
“All day?” Olive spoke up. “Weren’t they playing that this morning? I tried to get into their cabin to give them breakfast, but they just shooed me away and locked the door.”
“Fuck.” Rowan ran his fingers down his face. “Alright, I’ll go and see what’s going on with them. Knowing Cassie and her friends, they’re probably zonked out on stolen candy. When all of the kids are accounted for in the lunch cabin, we gather outside.”
I swallowed, speaking up. “I actually wanted to talk to you guys about something.”
Rowan lifted his head, jutting the edge of the clipboard into his chin. “Go on…”
“I found something?” I pulled a face. “I mean, think I’ve found something?”
I wasn't sure how to explain to a dwindling group of exhausted teenagers that there may be something even more terrifying than potential kidnappers out there. Four blank faces started back at me, and Rowan leaned forward with a frown. “Like, in general? Josie, we don’t have time to go foraging.”
“You could call it a lead,” I said. “But I need your eyes to find it.”
“Uh-huh. But what is it?”
Thinking back to what exactly I had seen, I had no idea how to describe it. “It’s better if I just… showed you.”
Rowan looked sceptical, but nodded. “Alright. Josie comes with me. We’ll check out Allison’s cabin again to look for an emergency line, and you can show me whatever this ‘thing’ is you’ve found. Then we’ll escort Cassie and the other girl’s to the lunch cabin. Every camper needs an escort from now on. The rest of you? Act normal. If the kids see you freaking out, they will also freak out—and we need to keep up morale.” The boy pointed to Olive. “Olive, you sit in with the kids and look after them. Callan, check out the emergency generator. Harry, the kids see you as a playground ride, so use that to your advantage. Offer them horse rides if they’re scared. And with the ghost stories, it’s making it worse. Give them piggybacks.”
Harry rolled his eyes. “Do I have a choice?”
“No.”
Rowan cleared his throat. “We all keep up appearances. If the others turn up, after getting high or… I don’t know, having an orgy in the woods—- I will fucking kill them.” The way he smiled through his teeth, jumping off the bunk, his toes primed like a wild animal, I knew he wasn’t joking. If this was a well-constructed prank the other counselors were playing, I had no doubt Rowan would rip them apart for leaving him as a reluctant leader. To my surprise, the others wandered off with their tasks.
I watched Rowan lift up his pillow and pull out a pack of animal crackers, ripping open the bag and pouring the contents into his mouth. He caught my eye, crunching through mini animal crackers. “I didn’t have lunch,” he said through a mouthful.
I couldn’t help feeling a sense of relief as we headed across camp, Rowan in front of me, while I lagged behind.
“So, what’s the plan?” I caught up to him, almost tripping over a log.
The guy didn’t turn around. “I am completely winging it,” he said through a choked laugh. “I have no idea what I’m doing, and if I’m honest? I just want to go home, dude. I haven’t looked after this many kids in my life, and if I have to smile one more time as a little brat, I am going to fucking lose my mind.” He heaved out a breath. “I am making this up as I go along.”
I laughed that time. “That’s… comforting.”
“Yeah?” He turned to shoot me a grin. “Well, rest assured I am just about as scared—if not more scared than you,” as we stopped in front of Cassie’s cabin, his gaze found mine. “Is it me…” he said softly, “Or does the lunch cabin seem quiet.”
He was right. The windows were dark when they should have been illuminated by the TV screen. Instead of answering, I stepped in front of him, grasping hold of the cabin door. “Cassie?” I knocked three times. “Girl’s, are you okay in there? It’s Josie and Rowan.” I tried the door, and it slid open. Shooting a look at the boy behind me, I turned back to the door. “We’re coming in, okay?”
“Wait!”
Cassie squeaked from inside. “But he’s not finished!”
Ignoring the coil of dread unravelling in my gut, I forced the door open and stepped into unusually milky white light which flooded the cabin. The first thing I saw was eight-year-old Cassie, sitting cross legged with her back to me. She was sitting in a circle with the other girls, no doubt playing their game.
When I stepped closer, however, I noticed something pooling across the wooden floor. It must have been juice or water that they had spilled. I took another step, but this time, clammy fingers wrapped around my wrist and yanked me back. Rowan didn't speak, but his eyes were elsewhere. Initially, they had been drinking in the cabin before they found oblivion entirely. I heard his breath start to accelerate, his grip tightening on my wrist.
I had half a mind to pull away, before I saw the body shaped carcass the girls were sitting around. In the dim light of the cabin, it used to be a person. Teddy. I could still see parts of an identity, freckled cheeks and eyes which were still open, still staring at the sky.
But that was where the similarities to the missing counsellor ended. The thing which used to be Teddy was more of a shell, a scooped out thing resembling a human body. What sent me stumbling backwards, my mouth open in a silent scream, was the almost surgical efficiency of each organ's removal, like it really was a game of operation. His heart, lungs, and intestines were in one pile-- while his brain was cupped between little Cassie's bloody hands— and when my gaze found the little girl, Nina, hiding behind dark curly hair, I was seeing what looked like a toy robot’s head in her hands. In my head, I was thinking about the eye with the metallic pieces glittering around its pupil, and something turned in my gut.
Did I find a human eye?
I was staring at the crevice inside the boy's skull, and the boxes of surgical equipment piled on the girl's bunks, when Rowan finally pulled me back, and I was stumbling straight onto my ass. "We need to go." Rowan spoke through a croak. Cassie’s words rattled in my head. Teddy, I thought.
Teddy wasn’t finished.
"Josie. Get up. Now!" My head was spinning, and I was sure I'd thrown up. I didn’t even realize we had managed to stumble from the girl’s cabin before cool air grazed my face, tickling my cheeks. Something wet and warm, and lumpy was spattering the front of my shirt.
Before I could coerce words, the boy was pulling me to my feet, and I was seeing stars in my eyes, blinking brightly. When the two of us started forwards in a run, Rowan stopped abruptly. I followed his gaze to find several kids surrounding his cabin, where Harry, Olive and Callan were. Maybe I was hallucinating, but Eleanor and Phoebe, both of whom wielding weapons where I had no idea where they had gotten them—looked… taller? Rowan didn’t waste time, dragging me back. “Allison’s cabin.” He spoke in cry which became a sob, pulling me across camp, stumbling over rocky ground.
“We need a phone. Fuck, we need a phone. We need a phone.” Rowan was struggling to stand, occasionally bending over and choking up dust.
“They were playing Operation."
Literal operation.
“But they’re just kids!” I choked out.
Little kids, who had surgically removed every organ inside Teddy’s body.
Little kids, who were hunting the other counsellors down, and would surely be coming for us.
Allison’s cabin was thankfully further into the woods. When we were safe inside and Rowan was locking the door, I dry heaved several times, unable to get the sight of glistening gore splattering the cabin floor from my mind. “Josie.” Rowan was already tearing apart the cabin. “Work with me here, okay? We don’t… we don’t have fucking time to freak out, or to barf—we need to help. Now.” Rowan was almost in tears, and when he hit the ground on his knees, I took over. I searched Allison’s desk first. Nothing of importance, just documents and invoices. Digging through her draw, there was still nothing. We were running out of time.
Abandoning the desk, I went through her suitcase and bags. When I was crawling under her bed to try and find a weapon, Rowan hissed out. “Wait.” When I turned to him, he was still kneeling, but his foot was clamping down on a loose plank. The guy didn’t hesitate, pulling at the loose plank, which, to my confusion, revealed what looked to me like a trap door.
Rowan turned to me. “You’re kidding.”
I could only stare at the trap door revealing stone steps. He peered down, his voice echoing. “Allison has a fucking secret bunker?”
His lips curved into a surprisingly childish grin which took me off guard. “Oh, wow, that’s so cooooool!”
Lifting my head at the sound of loud squealing, I glimpsed a group of littles led by Eleanor stalking towards us. Eleanor had a hostage. Harry. And with the way she was sticking the blade of a scary looking knife to his throat, I figured she meant business.
Their height difference was almost comical. The eighteen year old guy had to hunch over so the little girl could successfully keep him prisoner. Behind them in the trees, I could see something illuminating the dark, an electric blue light bathing their faces.
So, that was there the power was going.
But what the fuck were these eight-year-old’s doing?
“Josie!” Rowan hissed from down below. He had already climbed down.
I joined him, struggling down the stone steps, before replacing the loose plank. If these kids were as smart as I thought, it wouldn’t take them long to realize the loose plank—also a trap door. Allison’s bunker was more of a control room. There were multiple screens lit up, a chair in front of a working MacBook. The phone-line was cut. But that didn’t make sense.
The kids were unaware of the bunker, so who cut the phone lines? Rowan was on the laptop, struggling to get through the password protection, so I turned my attention to piles of cardboard boxes.
When I opened them, I found myself staring at animal crackers.
There were hundreds of them, packed on top of each other. Looking further, digging through the boxes, I found a piece of old crumpled paper which looked ancient.
REGARDING PROJECT SPEARHEAD SUBJECTS:
PLEASE DO NOT INGEST UNLESS ABSOLUTELY NECESSARY. IF MULTIPLE SUBJECTS INGEST, PLEASE USE SELF DESTRUCT.
ONLY USE IN CASES SUCH AS IMMINENT DESTRUCTION TO THE PLANET/THREAT OF NUCLEAR WAR.
(PLEASE CONTACT FAMILIES IN ADVANCE. MAKE SURE TO INGEST WITH WATER TO AVOID NEUROLOGICAL SYMPTOMS SUCH AS PSYCHOSIS, EXTREME VIOLENCE. PLEASE APPROACH SUBJECTS WITH CAUTION.
Something ice cold slithered down my spine.
Abandoning the boxes, I searched through a cabinet filled with files which were crumbling apart from age. I picked one at random and flicked through it.
Eleanor Summer’s.
Sex: Female.
DOB: 08/05/1977.
Initially, I thought I was reading the dates wrong. But then, with my heart in my throat, I was grasping for other files.
Eli Evermore.
Sex: Male.
'DOB: 08/03/1979.
“Rowan.” I managed to get out through a breath.
“Mm?”
“They’re not children.”
The boy rubbed his eyes, frowning. His eyes were half lidded, almost confused. “Huh?”
“Eleanor.” I whispered. “Is forty five years old.”
He nodded slowly, turning back to the laptop. “How do you spell… documents? I’m looking for digital versions but I can’t find any.”
“You don’t know how to spell documents?”
“It’s been a hard day.” The boy whined, tipping his head back and blowing a raspberry.
Whatever I was going to say was choked in the back of my throat, when a loud bang sounded from above, the sounds of childish giggling coming through the floorboards. But the laughter didn’t sound like little kids. No, it sounded like teenager’s who were acting like little kids. I stared at the boxes of animal crackers, and then at the file confirming Eleanor’s real age.
My own words shuddered through me, and I remembered finding Teddy’s dismembered carcass in Cassie’s cabin. When I had caught her gaze, the little girl didn’t look scared, and somehow, her fingers wrapped around the scalpel looked just right.
Like the little bitch knew exactly what she was doing.
“Helloooo?” Harry’s voice was a hysterical giggle. “Olly, Olly, Oxen freeee!”
“Are you in heeeeeeere?” Carmel joined in. I could hear their footsteps above, dancing across the room.
Clamping my hand over my mouth, I dragged my knees to my chest and prayed they weren’t smart enough to figure out we were right underneath them.
Knowing the truth about them, though? I wasn’t counting on it.
….
That was an hour ago.
We’re still stuck down here, and I can get a connection here—thank god. For some reason, Alison has blocked all social media. We need help. We’re at Camp Redwood, and these kids ARE NOT KIDS.
Whatever Project Spearhead is was designed to keep them here.
The phone-line is cut so we can’t get help from whoever was helping Allison. I am counting on you guys.
Get us out of here!

“Last time on Total Drama Revenge of the Island! The campers did a fun game of Truth-or-Laser-Shark, which they revolted against, so we instead did a Harold-McGrady-brand-patented obstacle course! Lightning got the boot in the Catapult of Shame (Trademark Pending) because the bird is no longer with us. Or, so it seems. We also cut the Chris Mclean campfire due to budget constraints. Truly tragic, I know. What’ll happen in this episode? What embarrassing comment will Sam make this time? Find out right now on Total Drama Revenge of the Island!”
The Mutant Maggots were sleeping soundly in the luxurious spa hotel. Zoey, in particular, was loving the lavish lifestyle. Her family wasn’t the richest. The whole reason she joined to show was to make some money, to help her father out. It’d been a hard-knock life (Pun very much intended, Zoey loved that film) for her and her father ever since her mother had died. She was determined to bring the money home, no matter what. She’d also joined the show to (hopefully) make some friends. A lonely girl, she was. (Wow, she really was just stocked to the brim with references today.) But it was true! She’d make a friend in this a sweer body on her team, Mike. Nothing out of the ordinary…. Besides the fact that he was her DREAM GUY!! Nice, cute, and got her references! Just thinking about him made her swoon. She shrugged it off and got out of her bed. She did not want to leave, but she had to. After all, it was her tradition to wake up extra early in the mornings and take a walk around her neighborhood. Or, in this case, the island. She slowly inched out of bed, taking account of the sleeping Anne-Maria. She quickly got dressed and brushed her teeth, opening the door. The cool September air hit her, and she shivered. But she loved it. Everything about the island was so peaceful. The waves crashed against the beach. The birds squawked in the distance. She took in a deep breath. It was truly amazing. She started to walk around the island, soaking in the sunlight. Suddenly, she heard the creaking of a door. She turned around. It was Jo.
“Hey, Zoey,” she said, speeding up as she went.
Zoey realized she had the perfect opportunity to make a new friend!
“No, wait! I was wondering if-um, if- you’d like to go on a walk with me?”
(…she Nailed It.)
Jo looked at her, slightly confused. “Uh… Sure?”
Jo wasn’t used to anyone wanting to actually be next to her. Willingly. You couldn’t have waterboarded this information out of her, but the true reason she joined Total Drama was very different from the persona she displayed. Of course, she wanted the Million. Who didn’t? But she also wanted a friend. Someone real! Someone who wouldn’t be scared of her. She was quickly snapped out of her daydreams. Zoey was asking her something.
“Uh, so… Why’d you join Total Drama?” She asked. The early morning sunlight hit her face perfectly.
“Well, for the money! Why else would I join?” She lied.
“Well, I joined to make friends,” said Zoey.
Jo took a mental note of that. I guess she wasn’t the only lonely girl on the island.
“Do you have any siblings?” Zoey asked.
“Yeah. I Have 4 older brothers. But if you came by my house, it certainly wouldn’t seem like it!” Jo laughed. Her laugh was burly and loud. But it was also infectious and full of joy. Zoey smiled and started laughing too. Soon, all that could be heard was the joyous harmony of the two girl's laughter.
Staci was having a much worse time. It was 9:30 when she woke up. She had about 10 minutes to spare before that challenge began. All she could think about was how much she utterly hated herself. She would never dare to admit it, though. She constantly hid behind her thick layer of lies. She wished that she could just stop. But no matter how many times she’d say that she’d stop, it never came. She never stopped lying. Everyone in her life hated her, and she knew it. She was surprised that she wasn’t the first boot, for crying out loud. She slowly climbed out of the crappy bed and walked to the main lodge. She walked in, hunched over. She felt invisible.
“Hey! Come sit with us!”
…Was that to her?
She turned over to find Dawn and B, her fellow teammates, calling to her. Dawn was smiling at her.
That’s new, she thought.
She gingerly took a seat next to the two. The bigger one, whose name was B, wrote something down on his notepad.
Hello! You looked lonely, so I asked Dawn to invite you to our table! Don’t worry, we don’t bite.
Staci still couldn’t process this. Nobody had ever willingly let her sit with them.
“…Thank you.”
B wrote something on his notepad.
You seem a bit tense. You alright?
“Yeah. I was just thinking. You know, my great, great-”
But Staci stopped halfway.
“You know, this dude named William Holley invented that notepad! He invented the pad around when he innovated the idea to collect all the paper scraps from various factories.”
She had done it. She hadn’t lied, for once in her life! She had finally done it!
But before Staci could celebrate, Chris threw open the door, carrying a boombox. He strutted into the lodge, then planted his feet in the center of the room and started to do that one Fortnite dance we all collectively forgot about.
“Please stop,” said Dakota. She was comforting a crying Sam, who was devastated that anyone was still doing that dance.
After a grueling thirty seconds, he finally stopped doing the awful dance.
“Ok, ok, I'll stop! Anyways, today’s challenge is called Wawanakwa Musical! Teams must perform a skit. Everyone must have a speaking part, and it must have a corny message about something found in a typical High School Disney Channel movie. The team with the best number gets to pair up people to go to prom, while the other team gets it randomly. The couples need to face off in prom-themed challenges, such as drinking all the punch, dancing off, and something else I wouldn't want to spoil for you all. The campers who win the most challenges and make the best skit will win!"
“I don't even want to know what that last challenge will be," said Mike.
"Don't worry, nothing too dangerous!" Chris replied. Some of the campers exchanged worried glances.
“Oh, a skit! How exciting!” Chirped Ella, the secret 7th member of the Mutant Maggots. She was surrounded by animals, per the norm.
“Can you please get your stupid animal friends out of my face!?” Shouted Scott, who had become a resting place for the birds, having several perched on his head.
“Little ones, farewell! You must depart, at least for now,” she said, the heartbreak break in her voice crystal clear.
Confessional- Brick.
“Is it just me, or was that girl not here before? But I’m not complaining! Another member of our troop is just what we need!” Brick blushed.
End Confessional.
“I can already tell this one has a wonderful soul! Her aura is exceptionally bright pink, and it suits her wonderfully. As to how she teleported here? Beats me."
End Confessional.
We cut to all the campers outside the main lodge. The Mutant Maggots were doing a group huddle to brainstorm ideas.
“Ok. Mags. Let’s organize a game plan! We’ve got this in the bag if we work hard and persevere!” Said Brick.
“Never call us “Mags” again,” snarked Jo.
“I like that attitude, Brick! I think our message should be about spreading kindness and not bullying!” Chirped Ella.
“I, um, thank you,” fumbled Brick, who was not used to someone complimenting him for a change.
“We need to cast everyone as a part. First off, we’ll need a bully character. Any volunteers?”
Most eyes went to Mike, the self-proclaimed Actor. He started to sweat but soon realized his team needed him. He sighed and took off his shirt. He instantly switched to Vito, one of Mike’s many alters.
“Ayo, what seems to be the issue?” said Vito. Anne-Maria was enamored instantly.
Confessional- Zoey.
“Mike sure does take his acting seriously. Must be a method actor. Not going to lie, it’s a bit weird. But I like weird!”
End Confessional.
“Who knew you had such a bod under that shirt?” Swooned Anne-Maria. She jumped on Vito, who didn’t mind.
“Ok Mike, we get it, you’re a good actor. Are you doing this or not?” screamed an irritated Jo.
“Yeah. sure, whatever,” said a completely uninterested Vito.
“We’ll also need a victim and five other roles. Any ideas?” asked Brick.
“How about we have one bystander and three people who spread the anti-bully message?” Ella suggested.
“Fine with me,” said Brick.
“Anyone want a particular role?” Ella asked.
“I want to be one of the spreaders,” said Jo, which was a surprise of most.
“Ok! Me and Brick can be the other two, Anne-Maria can be the victim, and Zoey can be the bystander. I have an idea for the plot- Mike bullies Anne-Maria, and Zoey doesn’t do anything. Then we come in and tell them to be kind, and then it works, and we live happily ever after!” said Ella.
“Ok, why don’t we run through it?” Suggested Jo.
“Ayo, what am I doing again?” Vito asked.
“Ugh, cut the crap and start acting!” Screamed an irritated Jo.
“Yeesh, it’s cold in here. I’m putting my shirt back on,” pretended Vito, aware that Mike probably needed to switch in. Mike was at first quite confused, but quickly realized what had happened.
We cut to a montage of the Maggots working very hard at refining the script. Lines were changed, parts swapped, and then swapped back again, but in the end, they’d created the perfect skit- the ultimate work of their labor.
However, on the other side of the auditorium were the Toxic Rats, who had fewer hurdles.
B wrote something down on his notepad.
Just make it about how great Chris is and we’re sure to win.
“Sounds like a plan to me!” Said Scott, giving the silent giant a fist-bump.
“Yeah. We can improvise it as we go! We don’t even need a script!” Dakota said.
“Wait, what are we doing?” Asked Staci, who was once again out of the loop.
Soon, Chris, Chef, and some intern sat at a table, waiting for the skits to be presented. They were at the auditorium, where the Talent Contest challenge had been done a few years back.
“Ok, maggots! Wow me!”
Chris leaned back as Mike and Anne-Maria walked out on stage.
“Hey nerd, give me your lunch money!” Said Mike, utterly failing at sounding intimidating.
“Oh no! Whatever will I do??” Said Anne-Maria, who was wearing one of Cameron’s glasses he’d left behind as a pitiful attempt for a nerd costume.
Zoey then walked out. “Oh no! I want to do something, but I’m scared!”
Jo, Ella, and Brick then walked out.
“Hey! Bullying is bad!” Shouted Ella.
“You need to stand up for yourself!” Screamed Brick at Anne-Maria.
“You need to stop being a bully!” Screamed Jo, who was significantly louder than the rest.
“And you need to learn not to be silent! If you see something, say something!” Ella finished.
“Wow! Thank you! I will always stand up for the victim next time I see someone being bullied!” said Zoey.
“And I will be kind!” said Mike.
“You better!” Shouted Jo. “Now get got and leave this poor girl alone!” Jo shoved Mike much harder than she had anticipated.
He fell off the stage, landing right on his head. The others winced at his misfortune.
“…So be kind!” Finished Ella, who then quickly scampered down to check on Mike.
Mike faded in and out of consciousness. But he knew one thing- this was not a good sign. Mike had a 6th Alter. A particularly malevolent one, should I say… His name was… Mal.
Mike stood up, sporting fresh bags under his eyes. Well, the lone eye you could see, as the other was covered by hair. He stood up and grabbed Jo by the collar.
“Don’t touch me,” he said in an even tone.
Jo was hardly threatened by Mike grabbing her, considering she was twice his size. He had no strength. But when he spoke, it was different. Something about the way he spoke scared her. His even but still threatening voice. His unwavering face of pure anger. She backed away.
“Sorry.”
Confessional- Jo.
“I don’t know what came over me. He’s so non-threatening in the physical department, but the way he talks?” Jo looked at the camera. “Someone give that twig actor of the year!”
End Confessional.
We cut to Chris, Chef, and the intern. They all sat with mostly stunned and confused faces. They got into a group huddle before Chris finally spoke.
“…Okay, that was weird. But it was also pretty good, and you did everything right. We’ll give you… a 7/10.”
The maggots cheered loudly. Even though it wasn’t a nine or a ten, they were simply glad Chris gave them a satisfactory score, especially for how much work had been put into the project. Mal took in a deep breath and switched back into Mike.
“…What did I miss?” He asked. Nobody said anything, simply glaring at him.
Confessional- Mike.
“Ok, I’m pretty sure I switched into Mal which is definitely not a good thing.” He buried his face in his hands. “They probably all hate me now…”
End Confessional.
Confessional- Zoey.
“Ok, so about what Mike did back there? So weird! I know Jo shoved him, but that just felt way out of line. Or maybe I’m overthinking it. Is this normal? Am I the weird one??”
End Confessional.
“Ok, you can sit on the bleachers now. Rats, you’re up!”
All of the rats came out at once.
“Man, I really love Chris!” Said Scott.
“Yeah, he’s so cool, and handsome to boot!” Swooned Dakota.
“Chris… Is an interesting guy!” Forced out Dawn, who genuinely could not think of anything good to say about the host.
“I don’t think Chris is all that cool,” said Staci, who hadn’t caught on yet. Scott quickly shoved her to the ground.
“How could someone not like Chris??” Scott questioned.
“That girl is insane,” added Dakota.
B drew something on his notepad. It was a drawing of Chris, with a 12-pack (if that's even possible) and surrounded by adoring fans.
They all bowed, and Chris clapped loudly, much to the chagrin of the Maggots. They had no chance.
“I LOVE it!! 10/10, Rats win!!” Chris shouted, not even bothering to ask for Chef's and the intern’s opinions.
Confessional- Chef.
“If you ask me, the skit the Rats made was a bunch of Chris-propaganda-spouting-nonsense. The Maggots? Now that was amazing. Every part was well played, and every line was perfect. 10/10, truly the Mutant Maggot's magnum opus. What a cinematic masterpiece." Chef then burst out laughing.
End Confessional
“So, it’s clear to everyone that the Rats win. You may start pairing up now. I’ll pair the Maggots in a second.”
“I can go with B!” Suggested Dawn. B nodded.
“I’ll go with Sam!” Stated Dakota. Sam looked up, surprised.
Confessional- Sam.
“You’re telling me that a pretty girl willingly picked me to go to prom with them??!” Sam fainted.
End Confessional.
The only two left were Scott and Staci.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” groaned Scott.
“Ok. Mike can go with Zoey, Ella goes with Brick, and Jo goes with Anne-Maria,” said Chris, without much thought.
We cut to the teams in a warehouse that was decorated to look like a high school. The lights were a deep purple. In the center was a disco ball, and there was a dance floor underneath it.
“Ok, the way this works is that each couple will compete in one challenge each, starting with the punch drinking contest. Each couple will need to down two giant bowls of punch, one for each person. Whoever finished their punch first wins. Also, no spilling can occur our you’re out!”
“We’ll take punch,” said Jo immediately.
“Whoa, I did not sign up for that!” Anne-Maria protested.
“Don’t care, didn’t ask. We’re doing it!” Anne-Maria rolled her eyes but eventually agreed to it.
“I’ll take the punch. I just want to get my “date” with Mrs. Flabby-Mc-chatter-mouth over as soon as possible,” groaned Scott.
The couples were waiting at the punch table for Chris to call start.
“BEGIN!”
Jo quickly grabbed the bowl and downed the juice in two big gulps. She instantly turned to Anne-Maria.
“Come on, hurry up!”
Anne-Maria was having a difficult time getting the punch down. Eventually, she just couldn’t finish it. She spat all of the punch into Jo’s face. Jo screamed and clenched her fists.
“Great job, you lunatic! You cost us the challenge!” Shouted Jo.
“Maybe I woulda done betta if you weren’t SHOUTIN’ AT ME!!” Screamed Anne-Maria, her jersey accent at full display.
Jo lunged at Anne-Maria. Unfortunately for the Maggots, Scott and Staci had already finished their punch. Scott smirked and wiped the punch from his mouth.
“Easy!”
Staci also had punch around her mouth. She wiped the punch residue off her lips, but she couldn’t wipe the permanent grin off her face. She felt a deep sense of accomplishment, despite the fact it was just a bowl of punch. She felt like she'd made a genuine contribution to her team.
“The Toxic Rats win the first round!” Shouted Chris. They cheered loudly, and the Maggots knew their fate was sealed. Jo and Anne-Maria were both fighting each other. Both were covered in the sticky fruit punch, and screaming.
Confessional- Brick.
“That was so unsportsmanlike that I don’t even know what to say.”
End Confessional.
The next challenge was a dance-off. It was Ella and Brick versus Sam and Dakota.
“Ok. So, whoever can dance the longest without tripping up or giving up wins! Good luck!”
Royalty-free romance music started to play in the background. Brick had prepared for this moment his whole life. Well, he wouldn’t have expected it to be on a reality TV show with a girl he’d only known for a few days, but you win some and you lose some. Brick swooped Ella up and spun her around. Ella grabbed his hands and slowly rocked with him. They started to move around the dance floor. They continued to spin each other around in beautiful harmony. Ella couldn’t help but imagine how much this reminded her of the dance scene between Belle and the Beast. Her heart swelled. Had she found her prince? Brick was having similar thoughts. He’d never found someone quite as graceful as Ella.
Sam and Dakota were dancing much less formally. They mostly goofed off, doing random and silly dances. They were laughing very hard. Dakota couldn’t stop thinking about how cute Sam looked! The two continued to boogie, laughing all the way.
After about 30 minutes, the couples were still going strong. Well, one of them was going strong. Ella and Brick were dancing the night away, as their dance was slower and less physically demanding. Sam and Dakota weren’t fairing so well. Sam could only do so many video game dances before he tired out, and he was already on the verge of passing out. Dakota was also getting tired, but in the end, it was Sam who fell.
“The Mutant Maggots win!”
Ella and Brick collapsed into a tight embrace, happy that what felt like hours of dancing was over.
Confessional- Ella.
“Wow, I’ve never felt so magical in my life… And Brick! He was an amazing dancer!” Ella sighed longingly.
End Confessional
Confessional- Brick
“She’s quite the dancer...” Brick looked away from the confessional’s camera, hiding his tomato-red face.
End Confessional
Mike, Zoey, B, and Dawn were nervously waiting for the final part of the challenge. One can only imagine all the messed up things Chris can come up with. Soon, Chris came close to the four teenagers.
Four interns lead the contestants to a large platform that was elevated over a pool of water. The four contestants got onto the platform, and they were given water guns filled with a red liquid.
“Inside these guns are PIG BLOOD!! You must shoot your opponents off the table and into the water. The team who can knock their opponents down first wins!”
Zoey gasped. “Is this some sort of messed up homage to Carrie?!” She asked.
“I can’t state that for copyright reasons, but I think you know the answer,” said Chris.
The duos put their fingers on the trigger, waiting for Chris to let them begin.
“Three… Two… One!”
Mike and Zoey ended up both targeting Dawn, who immediately flew into the water, as she weighed almost as much as a feather. B put his finger over the nozzle of his gun, spraying blood uncontrollably. Mike and Zoey sputtered, and Zoey was close to falling into the water.
“Zoey!” Mike screamed. He quickly jumped in front of the redhead, saving her from a particularly nasty blow from B. Zoey took B’s strategy, and also put her finger over the nozzle. Soon everyone was covered in pig blood. B was standing strong and taking the blows like a champ. However, Mike was still covering Zoey and was not fairing so well. He’d never wondered how bad pig blood would taste, and now he was experiencing it in full force. The disgusting, iron-like liquid flooded his mouth. Soon, he could take no more.
“Zoey, you got this!” He shouted as he was finally knocked into the water. Zoey trembled a bit. It was her versus the smartest guy on the show! Well, maybe besides the skinny one who’d been eliminated in episode one, but she’d already forgotten his name. B continued to spray Zoey, getting increasingly closer and closer. There was almost nothing Zoey could do. Her blows were hardly affecting the juggernaut. It didn’t help that the other team was cheering B on incredibly loudly, whilst the only person cheering for Zoey was Mike. Eventually, she couldn’t handle the blows. She tumbled off the platform and into the water.
“The Toxic Rats win! Maggots, I’ll see you at the campfire tonight.” Everyone started to clear out, sans Mike and Zoey.
B twirled the water gun around and pretended to put it in an invisible holster, stepping off the platform and leaving the warehouse. Zoey was still processing the fall and all the pig blood in her mouth. The water was cold and soothing. She wiggled around in the water, trying to get all the blood off. Once she got most of it off, she resurfaced. Mike was eagerly waiting for her.
“You did so well!” Zoey couldn’t help but smile at his adorable buck-toothed grin. When he wasn’t acting as one of his kooky personas, he sure was sweet. But Zoey still didn’t feel right about him. When he played his characters, he’d act so vastly different. That might seem normal as he was an actor overall, but he was just way too method for her liking. She was planning on asking him to maybe tone it down, if it was ok with him.
“Hey… I’ve been meaning to ask you if you could maybe tone down your acting. If that’s okay with you. It’s just… With the whole jersey shore persona and whatever you did with Jo? It’s just kind of weird because I really like you and I thought you liked me, but then you start flirting with Anne-Maria and...” Zoey started to tear up. “Obviously I don’t owe you anything but...” Suddenly the was met with the warm -if not wet and bloody- feeling of Mike’s body wrapped around her.
“Zoey... I’ve got to confess something. I have this thing called MPD. Basically, it means I have multiple personalities. When I flirt with Anne-Maria and act like an old man? Those are just some of my personalities. I just lied about the acting thing. I didn’t want to seem weird and-” Zoey quickly kissed him.
“You should’ve led with that, you dummy! Why would I judge you for that? Hell, that just makes you ten times cooler!” Mike sighed a deep sigh of relief.
Confessional- Mike
“I can’t believe it! She accepts me! And I didn’t need anyone’s help telling her!”
End Confessional.
Confessional- Zoey
“Well, that explains everything. I suppose it’s best that I found out this now rather than later.”
End Confessional.
“Can you not tell anyone though? I don’t want anyone to get the wrong impression about me.” Mike saw something move in the corner of his eye, but he shrugged it off. Probably just a rat or something. The rest of the campers had left the warehouse, and it was just Mike and Zoey. Well, at least that’s what they thought.
“Of course! Your secret’s safe with me.”
The camera panned out to reveal a hidden Scott, who was hiding behind one of the lockers.
Confessional- Scott.
“So, Mike had MPD? I’m sure I can use that in the future. Zoey may not tell anyone, but I might!”
End Confessional.
Confessional- Mike.
“Ok. So, it’s great that Zoey is cool with me, but I haven’t forgotten that… He resurfaced. I might as well fill you all in. Mal is my 6th alter. He’s a protector. But he usually ends up overdoing his job and scaring people away. He knows I need this money, and I know he’ll do anything to get it. He hasn’t come out since my Juvie days.” Mike looked to the side. “But that’s another story.”
End Confessional.
The maggots were quite in a very somber mood. Zoey and Mike were covered in blood. Jo and Anne-Maria were covered in punch. Brick and Ella were the only people who seemed happy, albeit awkward.
“Ok, I think I’m going to take a shower,” said Mike.
The other three girls followed him, realizing that probably was a good idea. The only people left were Brick and Ella.
“Soo, what’d you think about my dance skills?” Brick asked in a joking tone.
“They were good! And I’m not lying, you really know how to dance!” Ella said, pointing at Brick.
“Thank you. I was actually saving that routine for a real prom. But I suppose a fake prom is just as good.”
“Oh! Well, you can always use it again. This of me as a practice round,” chuckled Ella.
“No, it was more than that!” Brick said. “I don’t know, it felt… Magical?”
“I know! It really did,” Ella said. Both parties looked away, blushing.
Confessional- Ella.
“I think I’ve found my prince…” she swooned. “And I didn’t even need to lose my shoe!”
End Confessional.
Ella and Brick both leaned in for a mutually agreed kiss. Their lips almost touched. Almost.
“Oh my god!” Sam shouted. Both Brick and Ella screamed back. Brick even fell off the log they were sitting on.
“I am so sorry! I won’t tell anyone.” Sam covered his eyes with his hands. He stumbled away.
Confessional- Sam.
"Brick? And Ella?! Who would've expected that?"
End Confessional.
Brick and Ella sat in awkward silence. It was finally broken by Brick’s infectious and hearty laugh. It was booming and loud, but it was still beautiful to Ella. She started to laugh too- her laugh was much lighter. It could’ve been mistaken for singing.
A few hours later, The Mutant Maggots were gathered at the campfire. They all exchanged nervous glances with each other. One member of their team would leave the island- permanently.
“Mutant Maggots. Welcome. There are five marshmallows on my plate. One of you will not receive one tonight, and you will catch a ride on the Bird of Shame.”
“I thought the bird died?”
“I lied. So go cast those votes and we’ll get to it!”
Voting Confessionals- Everyone on the Mutant Maggots.
“I’m voting for Jo. That bossy B-I-T-C-(Bleep) Has got to go!” Shouted Anne-Maria.
“Anne-Maria is annoying, and hardly a team player. She’s leaving tonight,” said Jo, casting her vote.
“I’m voting for Anne-Maria. I’d vote for Jo, but I feel bad after the whole Mal thing,” said Mike.
“Anne-Maria. If she keeps rubbing up on Mike, even as one of his alters, I’ll lose it!” Zoey shouted.
“I’ll vote for Jo. Sure, Anne-Maria messed up, but she initiated the fight. Not very sportsmanlike,” stated Brick, casting his vote.
“I’m voting for Jo. She lunged at Mike and set him off. Not very kind,” said Ella.
End Voting Confessionals.
“Okay. You’ve all cast your votes. Let’s get to it.”
“Zoey! Come get your marshmallow. You’re safe.”
Zoey eagerly jumped up and ate her marshmallow.
“Mike- so are you.”
He sighed a deep sigh of relief and took his marshmallow.
“Brick and Ella! Looks like you two lovers are safe.”
Brick and Ella exchanged a glance. “Uh, were not lo-”
“Sure, you aren’t. I can see the cameras, you know that, right?”
Everyone looked at the duo.
“Whatever.” Chris turned to Anne-Maria and Jo.
“Welcome, girls. You both got three votes each.”
The two looked at each other nervously.
“And because of this… You will engage in a tiebreaker!”
We cut to Jo and Anne-Maria on top of an elevated platform over water. In their hands were sticks with foam ends.
“Okay. Your goal is to knock your opponent into the water before the timer runs out. The winner will stay in the game, and the loser will take the bird home. BEGIN!”
Jo immediately lunged at Anne-Maria, expecting her to buckle underneath Jo’s so-called superior strength. But to Jo’s surprise, she held her ground. The metal sticks clashed against each other, and each girl took turns exchanging blows.
“Not bad, jersey girl!” Grunted Jo, who was genuinely struggling. Anne-Maria responded with a growl, knocking Jo to the ground.
“I’m staying in this game, Jo!” She shouted through her teeth.
Jo yelled and lunged at her, for the second time that day. She tackled Anne-Maria into the water, unfortunately taking herself down with her. The girls crashed into the water with a mighty splash. Jo quickly resurfaced.
“Do I win?!” She asked eagerly.
“Not exactly. You both fell into the water…” Chris grinned slyly.
“So?” Both girls asked.
“So, your both eliminated!” Chris shouted, laughing.
We cut to both girls on the docks.
“This is stupid. I won fair and square!” Jo yelled.
“Tell It to the bird!” Chris yelled back. The bird swooped down and took both girls by their arms. They yelled all the way.
“All right! Now that Jo and Anne-Maria are gone, how will the maggots fare? Will Brick and Ella continue their oh-so-secret romance? What will Mike do now that Scott knows about his MPD? Find out next time on,
Total!
Drama!
Revenge of the island!”

D&D is a game of incomplete information. The delta between the world in your head and the world in your players' heads is massive. You can be DBZ super sayain fusion of Picasso, Homer, and Matthew Mercer and you still won't fully communicate the facts about the world, no matter how hard you try.
Its often said that you should "Yes, And" your players. Do they want to try and create a makeshift grappling hook and batman their way into the noble tower instead of going through the encounters you've designed? Let them try and see what the dice say. Do they want to convince the necromancer to shore up the cities defenses with skeletons instead of the boss you've planned? See what happens!
But what happens if your players avoid doing something or wait for something ...that doesn't really exist? A simple one: your players discuss amongst themselves that they want to break into the noble's tower, but there are guards patrolling, as you point out. Your players then say "Well theres only 2 guards, what if we wait here a few hours, eventually they'll have to change shifts since they can't be doing this all themselves, that's our window!"
But you never scheduled guard shifts...if the players sat here and didn't say anything, the guards would keep doing their route. You could waste everyone's time and just let them wait and realize the guards don't have a hole in their schedule...or you could yes, and. "Sure enough, you all wait about 4 hours, make 3 stealth checks. Okay you're fine...you eventually watch as the two individuals who you've hypnotically analyzed for 4 hours take about 5 minutes longer to reach this position then you remembered." or "They take a look at the position of the sun, and walk in the other direction".
Sure, there was no guard shift in your notes before, but now there is.
Or, (to steal a skit from XP2Level3 that supposed to be ironic but I think is great DMing) your players fight a Death Kiss in a villiage. This was supposed to just be a little side quest, but one of your players (whose perhaps a Oath of the Watcher paladin or something) speculates that from their knowledge, Death Kisses are created by Beholders, and therefore there must be an entrance to the underdark leading to a Beholder's lair nearby. Maybe you just planned for them to beat the Kiss and move on, but this is the perfect opportunity to make your player feel like a genius.
Basically, always look for opportunities for your players to feel like they've solved a great puzzle, done a 200IQ play, or evaded a hidden threat, even if you had to invent shit out your ass to do it.

April 21st
So the other day my daughter asked if her mother and I could go to the park with her.
Given the situation, I told her that I would take her myself, but she said she wanted all of us to go. Of course I didn’t want to disappoint her so I told her to ask her mom, which she says she that she already did.
So we went to the park. It was an uncomfortable ride there but I tried getting my kid excited by telling her we’d build sandcastles in the sandpit and I’d push her on the swings and that we’d play tag. And the one that works for most five year olds, which is telling her that I’d get her ice cream. I’m telling you it works like a charm. It’s my not so secret weapon.
We get there and I follow through on my promises to my kid and I’m making sandcastles with her. Somewhere along the lines a guy went to sit next to my wife and was speaking with her. When she caught my eye she scooted away from the guy and had her hands laid flat on her legs. To be honest I could not be bothered. I could hear what they were speaking about from where I stood so I wasn’t really bothered. However, I did appreciate her attempt to show me that she is a safe partner.
By 5 o clock we were coming out of the ice cream shop and I gave my wife the car keys so that she would drive. I stayed in the backseat with my daughter. She was telling me some silly kids jokes and I was so indulged with this child that I didn’t even realize where we were going until we pulled up to her mother’s house.
That made me mad because my mother in law and I no longer have the best relationship anymore. I can even go as far as saying that I truly dislike her, but I said nothing.
My wife texted her mother who came out right after, greeted us and took my daughter. I was about to get out the car when my wife locked the doors. The car has child protective doors, so we have to open them from outside. More or less I was being held hostage by my wife. I know she wasn’t going to do anything bad but it was just a predicament that I could really do without having to deal with. Keep in mind that I still wasn’t talking to her at this point.
We sit there in the most uncomfortable silence I’ve ever experienced in all my life and eventually I pull out my phone only for her to take it out of my hands and drop it in the front seat.
The first thing she did was ask if I loved her anymore.
I was being difficult, and I didn’t want give her a response. I knew it would really bother her if I didn’t answer her and that’s what I wanted. I was still mad at her for putting her hands on me. Eventually I just nodded, because the truth of the matter is that I do love her and I do care about her, very much so, but the love is so hard to feel with all the rest of emotions just sitting there right beneath the surface.
She said that I don’t act like it and started crying. She apologised for her infidelity and for all the pain she put me through, and for hitting me.
She told me that she feels like I don’t care and that she was angry when I didn’t try to step in when the guy was talking to her at the park earlier. I had to explain that not only could I hear what they were saying, but that the guy knows who I am and his wife was literally there.
We sit there in the car, we listen to each other for once not going back and forth and by the time it was over found myself giving her a hug and a kiss on the cheek for the first time in I don’t know how long. It was very emotional for us both.
And then the therapy session came and it’s like we took ten steps back.
I got her to come with me to an MC appointment that I’d previously scheduled. I thought that this would be a step in the right direction but now I wish that we hadn’t done it.
To keep it short, we were speaking about what makes each other feel insecure and she said that my ‘withdrawn’ behaviour make her feel insecure, and the fact that I deal with a number of women every day makes her feel unsafe.
She admitted to going through my phone and looking through my iMessage and social media accounts because she didn’t trust that I was being faithful after her ONS. She checked my browser and found a search about divorce and child support settlements and she broke down while talking about it. It was not a recent search, but I just do not clear my browsing history.
While I do empathise with her, I don’t appreciate the fact that she, the wayward, checked MY phone. I’m not saying that she does have the right to but I have done nothing to make her mistrust me. And it’s not like I have something to hide, but it’s the thought that makes it hard for me.
I will not lie. I definitely got angry and I went off with no filter. Full blown cussing in the presence of the counsellor. I felt bad, but I put it in my head that it was justified.
Needless to say that the ride back home was not pleasant for either of us.
We make progress then it all goes up in flames. I don’t know if I would have rather that she didn’t say anything about it or not. I was doing fine until she’d mentioned it.
I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.

This whole post has multiple trigger warnings, from CSA to R**e even physical abuse of a minor and mentions of suicidal attempts
Growing up, I was traumatized witnessing the abuse of my mother at my bio father's hands. My earliest memory is screaming at my bio dad to stop as he held a broken light bulb to my mom's throat, threatening her if she ever left. He has always been on drugs since he was a teen. He is 5 years older than my mom, and my mom was on the cusp of 16 when she conceived me. I remember so much yelling, so many cops visiting. I am always told about happy memories, but I can't really remember them.
After my siblings were born, she finally got away, but it involved us bouncing around alaska until she was able to get us past the border into the lower 48. I was around 9. We moved to the southeastern part of the states, right in the Bible belt. When we first moved, my mom had to work several jobs and trusted my grandfather to watch us, but he was sick and had mobility issues. I remember cleaning his house and watching my siblings as he fell asleep watching TV. This was the norm until his son, my mom's brother, who was living with him, started staying home, I think he lost his job or something. He used to have my siblings watch TV while he would sit beside me to teach me Magic! and at first, it was fun. But then he started having me sit on his lap, and he would always end up with his hand on my upper thigh. I didn't know this was wrong. I'd grown up groomed, and I was still a child. He would try and separate my siblings from me any way he could. He would show me anime if I lay down on his bed quietly, but I wasn't allowed to look anywhere but the TV. He would have me take showers by accidentally spilling something on me and make me wear his shirt while he cleaned all my clothes. I wasn't allowed to decline, or I'd get in trouble. His punishments for me if I did anything wrong were spankings, but he would make me bare my ass, like naked. He started making the anime hentai, explaining in detail what they were doing and why. Then he started touching me. He would put a blanket over us and put his fingers inside. I would bleed a little bit and cry, but he would threaten to spank me again and yell my mom I was being bad, which at the time I didn't know any better, I still thought this was normal.
This went on for years, slowly getting worse as time went on. After we moved into our new place, around the time my mom met my step dad, i finally read the words molestation and rape and i finally understood what was happening to me. I was 11. My little brain. I thought about telling my mom, but she was in school and had 2 jobs, and we were barely making it. If i told her she would need to quit something and pay someone, we couldn't afford it. So i decided to just not allow him to touch me anymore until he would start looking at my sister. i knew i had to keep her safe. I would force his attention on me and send my siblings outside to play. The last time he touched me, I was 14, and it was my moms and step dads wedding. I was no longer a virgin.
In the midst of this, I made a friend with a young trans woman. She was 19 and on hormones to transition but hadn't had surgery yet, so she was still a biological man. she listened and offered a safe space. She would let me watch movies with her that I wasn't able to at home. The last movie I watched with her was Scary Movie. That's when she showed me her true intentions by telling me that it was ok because we were both girls as she held me down and used her tongue on me. I felt so disgusted with myself since then. How could it feel good? How could I like it? I got sick on myself, and she let me go. I never went back.
I told my mom about what her brother did to me when I was 16. The first time I tried to commit suicide was days after.
When my step-dad moved in with us, he was an alcoholic. He's since gotten treatment and doesn't drink anymore. He would get so mad if my chores weren't done as soon as he got home, usually 15 minutes after me. He would make me do everyone's chores if my siblings had after school activities ( which were most days, even if I had after school stuff too) he would belittle me, beat me with anything he could find, including 2x4s, extention cords, fiberglass fishing poles with all the metal pieces piercing my back, butt and legs, and even a riding crop. He once punched my stepbrother in the face because my stepbrother jumped between us to take the punch for me. I even called the police just for them to think I was exaggerating and telling me it was ok for parents to punish their kids. DCSF said the same thing. My mom was still going to school and work. She was never home. He even told me, when I was 17 and had just gotten a 185 on my asvab, that I would never amount to anything if I didn't get off my fat lazy ass and work out. I was in great physical health.
When I was 15, I went to a homecoming dance at a roller rink. I met a guy who was wearing a lot of anime stuff, and we hit it off as friends he was 23. Talking all the time about anime. I didn't realize it at the time because I didn't know what grooming was, but that's what was happening. He would always say things he likes in a woman, buying me things like jewelry and other expensive gifts, bringing me lunch at work when I was 16, taking me to movies. He gave me gift cards and would offer to take me to the stores ap I could try stuff on instead of using the computer to buy stuff. On my 18th birthday, he brought me flowers and asked me out. I was kicked out at this point because I told a friend what was happening at home, and she spred rumors about my family, and my step dad didn't feel comfortable with me in the house. No one believed me when I told them I didn't say that. He invited me to live with him. At first, it was great except for his roommate. I would clean the house while he was at work. And then wait for him to get home. He told me I didn't have to clean everything and to stop cleaning. The first day I didn't clean, I decided to play games on my system with my account. Important. He came home and yelled at me for not cleaning and playing games all day. He hit me. I had no one to turn to amd no where to go. I stayed until I tried to end my life a second time
When I was 17, almost 18, I was staying with a friend after I was initially kicked out. That "friend " invited 2 random men into her house while I was asleep and got a pack of cigarettes and half a pizza as well as 20$ to leave the house while they had their way with me. I never saw their faces, which I am thankful for, and I ended up pregnant. I love my oldest with all my heart. I never once told him how he was conceived, and I never will.
At 14, my grades went down, and I started losing sleep and making bad choices. I started drinking my mom's wine and step dad's beer. I was smoking cigarettes and weed. And I started sneaking out. I was assaulted several more times by different people, including an adult male I worked with and a student I went to school with.
This isn't even everything, just the major events. I've never told anyone including, my mom and husband, everything that happened. I've ghosted therapists because I feel like I'm being judged.
This has cause so much hardship in my life. I suffer from an overactive nervous system, depression, ptsd, and what I like to call, super anxiety. I cant have people in my house, I have a hard time leaving my house, I had an anxiety attack the other day because what if I got some disease from a beauty blender because someone spit in it and I had an open cut on my face or something(and that wasn't even the most ridiculous thing I overthought into an anxiety attack.) And it turns out, with all this happening, I went undiagnosed with autism my entire life.
I doubt I will ever be whole again.

(Taken from teenagers for better advice)
So my prom is coming up in just under 2 weeks, and I (18M) already asked out one of my female friends (18F) over a month ago since tickets went on sale pretty early at my school. She was super open to going to prom with me (I actually almost went with her last year too), and we both agreed we’d be going as friends. Now while we both live in the same town, we go to different schools, so I had to buy her tickets to my prom, and even though her prom isn’t until a few weeks after mine, she told me she was going to give her extra ticket to her (female) junior friend who brought her to their school’s junior prom a few weeks ago. (Ftr, they’re practically besties and on the same sports teams so I never found this weird.) I discussed “going” with her to that prom too by getting one of my guy friends at her school to buy me a ticket letting me meet her there, and she didn’t object to it.
I thought things were going great until we were looking at some of her recent insta posts and she told me to scroll past a photo of her with another guy, and she just said told me he was “her thing.” We’ve talked about some of her exes before, one of which I’m kinda friends with, but this time I just felt very uncomfortable and kind of embarrassed. This did help answer some questions I had about a snap she sent me the night before where she was leaning on “her thing’s” shoulders on a bus, and it also better understand the post I saw.
While I can say we’ve only been friends, I feel like she’s been sending me mixed signals for a bit: after I asked her to prom she started replying to some of my texts with “🥰🥰🥰”, she started saying we should “hang out more” before we go to prom, and she even suggested the idea of a movie night at my house that sounded like would just be the two of us. I will admit I’m not the most experienced at reading signals, but my friends said “she was obviously trying to get with me” when they saw some notifications I got from her. I admit that I do have feelings for her, especially now, and I while I don’t think she knows it, I don’t think it would be the best idea for me to tell her now given the situation.
I’m not trying to sound selfish, but the thought of having to tell all my friends that my prom date has a boyfriend does make me a little uncomfortable, especially bc some of them think we’re involved now. I want to know what way I can talk to her about this after she was so adamant to not talk about this, and I want to know “what type of friend” I am without making it awkward for either of us. (Note: I’m almost certain she wasn’t involved with anyone when I asked her out, and I’ve been a bit busy and partly away over the last month too.) Does anyone have any advice?

. . . was this message inside Van's store
​
https://preview.redd.it/99o8q6tzro2b1.jpg?width=1388&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=ef8d2c801066fce8b31c16c5aca52aa143573ae3
"Watch again". And maybe even a third time or more. This show is not always told in a straight-forward kind of way. Loose threads, you say? That's because it's woven together in non-linear pieces. Sometimes this works within episodes; sometimes within seasons; but sometimes it even crosses between seasons. In the pilot, we see a vision of Misty standing on the edge of the trees at the party-- Nat's acid trip vision. But this didn't pay off until S2E9 (and some might say could pay off even more, once we see more of the relationship between teen Nat and teen Misty in the wilderness in S3).
This show plays a long game.
Van seems cagey as an adult, you say? Doesn't quite feel like Van to you? Maybe teen Van doesn't hit the same either, by the end of S2. Here's a great post by u/AttorneyEqual7606 that addresses that better than I could. But the point I'm connecting to is this: the way you feel about adult Van in S2 might change after you watch S3. I know some people have used the term "loose threads" like it's a bad thing. And, in most TV shows, it is a bad thing. But I think Yellowjackets uses loose threads to its advantage and turns them into a strength by weaving them together season by season.
I know I've mentioned this several times in other posts over S2 (so I apologize if some of you have heard this before), but I totally saw teen Lottie differently in S1 after watching S2. My first time watching S1, I only saw her as a liability to the rest of the group. At one point in S1, Tai says something like, "I don't have time for your crazy right now, Lot." And, at the time, I agreed with Tai in that scene. I had convinced myself that the inevitable "pit girl" stuff that was coming would be all Lottie's fault.
But now I know it wasn't all Lottie's fault. She wasn't even conscious or in the room when they decided to do the first hunt. They decided that without her, and she then felt horrible about it when Misty told her what they'd done. People still kept telling her, "you started it." But, really, she was more pulled into it by outside forces. Like Mari saying, "Lottie doesn't need a gun." Some of them wanted/needed her to take that role for them. The role of spiritual leader.
And now when I rewatch teen Lottie in S1, I can see the sadness in her eyes and it just gets me right in the feels. I have done a complete 180 in how I view her. It's not "all her fault," and she's not even any more or less evil than any of the other girls. They're all little monsters in their own way, and I love them. I would be a little monster too if all that chaotic shit happened to me when I was 17 years old. They have to survive out there by any means necessary.
Other characters in S1 that hit different after watching S2: uhm . . . pretty much all of them? Who knew Jeff was a complete ride-or-die kind of guy with Shauna? Not me. He even wrote her a little love note in class before the crash even happened. It was always Shauna for him. She just refused to see it (or was too preoccupied to care).
Thought teen Nat was my moral compass in the wilderness. Nope. "I'm worse . . ." she tells Ben. "It chose," she says. And now she's the freakin' AQ (or whatever we want to call it).
Thought Callie was just a little brat. So annoying. But, no. She's just like her mom. Or, in adult Lottie's words: "She's so powerful." Like, WHAT?? I would not have predicted that in a million years, but here we are. All hail Queen Callie, I guess.
And Misty.
Misty fuckin' Quigley. I thought she was the most dangerous of them all. I thought she was the smartest of them all (and maybe she still does hold that particular title). But, after seeing S2 to its completion, I feel like we started seeing a softer and more genuine side to her. She accidently kills Crystal, and then does the same thing 25 years later. Thanks to Christina Ricci's performance in those final scenes, I believed her tears and heartbreak were genuine. This was a great tragedy. For all of them.
She also talks Ben out of unaliving himself. That felt genuine too. Is it possible she is not this cold hearted sociopath some of us assumed she was in S1? Okay, maybe still a sociopath, but . . . not totally cold hearted. She actually cares about some people. Wild.
So, what's to come in S3? We might have a long wait. While you're waiting, I think it's well worth it to rewatch both seasons a time or two. See what hits different in S1 once you "Watch again."
And then ask yourself, "what will S2 look like to me after I watch S3?" I bet it will surprise you, if you be like Jeff and go ride-or-die with the rest of us ;)

Today we are continuing the discussion we started last week about Wooyoung!
We've discussed our many confusions about this moment in the story where the boys finally lose the Cromer, and now we will work to make meaning through some sacred practices! Today, we're doing a sacred reading practice, which is where we attempt to make find new meaning through reading a single line very deeply.

03: Sacred Reading Practice

GD: The line is 4, which I'm interpreting as:

Tired of being chased and running away, we fell asleep immediately, and in the meantime, the girl healed my ankle.

But there are arguably two clauses in that sentence. We could just look at the second one "in the meantime, the girl healed my ankle."
BobbyJ: Not arguably even. There just are two clauses
GD: Lol yes
BobbyJ: Okay. Well. I'm down for whichever
GD: I think let's just do the second clause because it's the part that is mostly on 4. Alright, so, what's happening at a narrative level?
BobbyJ: Ateez have just escaped the guardians for the second time but lost the Cromer in the process because they chose to save Wooyoung. Though that might be conjecture on my part. So just--they escaped but lost the cromer
GD: Yeah, I have so many questions, but there are no answers. So the next step
BobbyJ: Actually it's not even that they escaped
GD: Right--they just left after getting the thing they wanted
BobbyJ: The guardians leave and then the Grimes girl opens up her secret cave entrance to let them in. Is it a cave actually?. . . Yes. A cave in the forest
GD: That's what it suggests. So, what's happening at an allegorical level? What does this remind you of in other stories, other parts of ateez lore, etc.
This is only mildly relevant, but it is what I immediately thought of: my writer friend and I often joke about how someone in our stories always hurts their ankle in third act
BobbyJ: The Grimes girl reminds me a bit of Primrose Everdeen. As like an archetype
GD: Oh! I agree
BobbyJ: The young innocent and trusting girl. I want to talk about how she trusts them immediately
GD: I have two differing thoughts/questions on that, actually. Does she trust them because she too recognizes their faces? Or is it more of an intuit/innocence thing?
BobbyJ: I was just thinking about that--does she recognize them? And my question is, do the people in strictland know what Halateez look like? They wear masks and hats. Like, she never says "wow y'all look just like the Black Pirates.” Not just because she can't. But I'm not sure that Halateez's faces are widely known
GD: Also, thinking ahead, the brother seems to explain a lot of things to Hwa, and he wouldn't need to do that if they assumed they were the Black Pirates
BobbyJ: Right. It's the uniform that is recognizable
GD: Have you read a Christmas Carol?
BobbyJ: Ages ago, but yes
GD: You know the ghost of Christmas present? How he has the two children underneath his robe that are for like want and ignorance? The grimes kids sort of remind me of that, but with like innocence and faith. The opposite side of humanity
BobbyJ: Wow I have no memory of that at all. But, yes. They seem to represent the goodness that is trying to survive
GD: I taught Christmas Carol to 7th graders so my knowledge of it runs bone deep
BobbyJ: I only taught it for one year before I was like "how about we don't?"
GD: LOL. 7th graders do not understand or appreciate it at all
It is, on the other hand, one of my favorite stories of all time, so I do listen to it every year
Anyways, every thing in the story is metaphorical, basically, since it's a parable. And it makes me think about some of the thoughts I've been having as we read this story. Like, the story itself is very streamlined, which you can argue is because they have to fit it into these short diaries
but, I guess I would argue that they're also relying on a shared understanding and metaphor to make the story work despite the streamlining of it. Which is why we are able to so easily connect with it and pull a lot of different meanings. And I do mean streamlined in that they leave a lot of things out and skip over a lot of parts--not that it's simple.
BobbyJ: But back to the original question--I do think that it is innocence that leads the girl to open her home to them. She probably saw that they were being chased by the guardians and likely knows what it's like to run for her life. She's been taken by them at least once before. I still think it's interesting that they chose to take her voice rather than recondition her.
GD: I agree on the innocence, and as an aside, I feel like the girl without a voice is an archetype as well? Like it represents something on a deeper level, and if you think about the story as a metaphor instead of a traditional hero’s journey, the only correct choice was to have an innocent girl with no voice.
I sort of have an interest in the phrase "in the mean time" and the word "heal.” We talked a bit about what does it mean that she healed it so quickly, and I guess looking at those words now, it reminds me of the saying "time heals all wounds"
BobbyJ: I interpret it more as she "treated" his ankle with some herbs or something.
GD: I also interpret it that way
BobbyJ: But it also isn't clear how long they spend in the cave
GD: Gave him some ice or something
BobbyJ: Where would she get ice?
GD: The magic fridge she keeps in the cave
BobbyJ: I can't get over that they just immediately fell asleep. I don't care how tired I was, I would be freaking out. But that makes them also seem very innocent and trusting. Not that they would need to be wary about a young boy and girl.
GD: This is what I mean when I say streamlined. We literally skip over any normal human behavior, and have to interpret their actions based on metaphor for what it tells us about them
They should, absolutely, be demanding answers and losing their god damn mind. But they don't
And I think that's a little similar to what the writers do in the intro when they first arrive? They have the android guardians come immediately so we miss the story beat of the characters interacting and freaking out about what just happened. Normal story beats being streamlined by the use of metaphor so that the story is intuited instead of told
BobbyJ: Like, because we've been armed with so much character knowledge, we're left to interpret or supply all character-based actions and interactions ourselves.
Quick note--I've been editing on the side and last week you mentioned that Strictland might have advanced medicine that can insta-heal. So I'm bringing that back to the table
GD: Yes, I do think that's a reasonable interpretation for how Woo was healed in the meantime
I feel like people are often frustrated by the lack of clear answers in the diaries about some story things--and I guess my whole point today is that I think that's by design. The writers could have easily spelled it out if they wanted to, but being told things clearly doesn't necessarily make for an engaging story.
BobbyJ: Here's what I know about kpop fans (and people in general): they don't like uncertainties. It's why we're so obsessed with numbers. How do we know who's the best if we don't know how many albums they sold or streams they've earned?
GD: The world is an uncertain place--people want answers. Answers often do not exist
BobbyJ: Yes, it's understandable. But I'm not interested in that energy applied to art
GD: I think that's why the word heal is interesting to me. Regardless of what she did or how she did it, the important thing is that this young girl with no voice still made a difference with the skills that she does have, and she has arguably set off a series of events that will lead to the change of the whole world. Because she was kind.
What would've happened if she'd left them out there? Would they have survived? Would they have figured out what was going on? Who knows, you know? The character itself represents the power that a childlike innocence and faith can have against the evils of the world, so who cares if she used an ice pack or actual magic?
BobbyJ: Right. Kindness and hospitality are very overlooked qualities. And it's not just Ateez that she has helped along the way. She and her brother become wrapped up in the story as well and join in on the journey. It leads to Left Eye and the healing he experiences thanks to Yunho
Given what they represent, it makes their end all the more tragic.
GD: But sort of fitting...
It reminds me a little of the ending of the Hunger Games series? Innocence and kindness are values that get lost when evil takes over, and it is sad. We should be sad about that--and that's why you can't ever let evil win long term. It's why everyone has to keep fighting. No one should be silent and let it happen.
BobbyJ: I think too that choosing to do what's good and right doesn't guarantee you protection from evil. I think it's also telling that their deaths (or whatever happens to them actually?) are senseless? Like they don't lead to any grand conclusion. They are just more casualties of the war and of Z's greed or lust for power or whatever his deal is.
GD: Death is often senseless.
BobbyJ: It's dissatisfying on a narrative level, but still important
GD: I read The Inheritance Games recently, and I will probably write a post about this for booktiny, but there's a line from one of the characters about how "moral choices depend solely on the outcome of an action"
And he was talking about how when he's giving to charity, the impact he can make with his money tells him the morality of the giving. So, giving to a single homeless person wouldn't be as moral as giving to a town. And I don't think he was right, but it reminds me of some of the things at play here. A question of scales maybe? Like, if you give to a town, the homeless person there could still die, but maybe someone else wouldn't? Or you could give to the homeless person directly in the town and make sure he survives, but not at all change the suffering level of the rest of the town
BobbyJ: That's a millionaire question
GD: They are in fact millionaires in the book, and that's basically exactly what the main character tells him
Anyways, I don't have any meaning to pull from that and what happens to the Grimes/Left Eye. But I guess both things remind me of the fact that senseless and tragic things happen regardless of what you do, the question is how do you live with yourself and how do you keep going
BobbyJ: We can only do what we each are capable of. There's no amount of money I could give to a town that would make any sort of impact. But I could give $50 to a homeless person for them to eat for a few days. Am I less moral than a millionaire because of the size of my contribution?
But I think that connects to GG because she did what she could with what she had. Sure she just provided shelter for some boys but that relatively small gesture, like you said, created a wave of change
GD: Make a wave. I'm reminded of The Giver a bit too?
BobbyJ: You mean Jonas really only saved Gabriel? Or rather--on the surface he just saves this one child, but it had greater impact than that
GD: Sort of? I guess I'm thinking.. if you ignore the sequels, the end of the book was open to interpretation. And I did interpret it as Jonas and Gabriel dying. So, if you interpret it that way, then they didn't even really save themselves or make that change. But, they did release the memories hoping that the memories would cause the town to wake up one day, which we don't actually see. So it's like, we did this thing that may or may not have an impact because we couldn't sit by and do nothing.
I guess I'm saying something like, evil doesn't win when good people die senseless deaths--evil wins when everyone gives up.
BobbyJ: Mmmm, yes. I'm also thinking of our discussion two weeks about choice. You can only choose the sort of person you will be, not the outcomes of your choices
GD: Yeah, and I think it's just important to show what characters do when senselessly tragic things happen. Are they defeated? Or do they keep going? So story wise, the deaths aren't senseless at all, and they do represent the very real chaos and unfairness inherent in many aspects of life
BobbyJ: Yunho is really a perfect example of this. We don't get to see any of the fallout of his brother's second death, but we know he doesn't give up but he keeps fighting the fight that is arguably the reason his brother died
GD: Oh my god, I realized we still have 2 more steps to our reading practice. Any other thoughts about allegory before we talk about our own lives?
BobbyJ: I don't think so
GD: Okay, then what does this remind you of in your own life?
For me specifically, I keep noting and coming back to the words "in the meantime", and I guess it is making me think about what I'm doing with my "meantime" if that makes sense?
BobbyJ: Right--like it feels like I spend a lot of time waiting for things to happen. But that period of waiting doesn't need to be a stagnant time for me, you know?
GD: My "what is the text inviting you to do?" is related to this. Anything else it reminds you of in your own life before we go to that?
BobbyJ: I think this idea that she did what she could with what she had. It often feels like I could be so much more [fill in the blank] if I could have/be/do this thing.
GD: Yeah, I agree completely. I could be the person I want to be only if [whatever]
BobbyJ: I don't know if this is an internet comparison thing or if it's my inability to measure up to my own standards. But I appreciate that GG didn't have a grand house, but she still offered her humble little cave
GD: We've talked about this before, but studies show that comparison is one of the most natural human things we do. Like even if we don't want to compare ourselves to others, our brains do it without conscious thought. The internet just gives us just more people to compare ourselves with
You're a teacher, and I was a teacher, and I'm thinking about what it was like to be a new teacher. IDK how it went for you, but I was given nothing and had to really figure it out for myself
BobbyJ: Same
GD: Looking back, I feel it would've been nice for someone to give me access to their cave, you know? Even if the cave was humble--it would've been nice
BobbyJ: Everyone told me that year that I did a great job, but I remember telling my mentor teacher (that I rarely spoke to bc she was super busy) that I felt bad for the kids that year because I knew I wasn't doing the best I was really capable of
I wish that I'd had a more developed mentor relationship with that teacher but it just wasn't a priority. And it's something that's very important to me even today where I feel pretty settled into my role. So, I've told my principal and my department chair that if they hire someone new to teaching, I'd be happy to partner with them because I feel like having someone you can just connect with on a regular basis who is invested in your success can really make or break your early teaching career
GD: I felt this way about the students too...
Like I had a list of students that I gave to my principle when I quit and said "all of these kids are kids that I meet with every week to check on. I go to their teachers and ask about their grades, and I talk to the kids in the halls before or after school. Someone has to do that when I go."
Relationships, and feeling like someone is on your side, are just so vitally important
BobbyJ: Yes. Building relationships with the kids is a big deal at my school. Which since I'm at a mid-sized private school is decidedly easier than most public schools. I have 93 students, which is still a lot to get to know, but I also have the advantage of having kids with parents who really care. So it's not like I'm the only adult in their lives who's trying to keep them afloat.
GD: Yeah, this was when I was 504 coordinator at a public school, so genuinely kids who would and probably did fall through the cracks when I left, which I felt soooo guilty about and still do
BobbyJ: But that's not and shouldn't be your responsibility. Which I know you know
GD: Logic and feelings rarely match up, unfortunately
BobbyJ: But the teaching profession really comes with a lot of guilt built in because we deal with children
GD: Teaching in public school, I had 140 students. As a 504 coordinator, I had the whole school
Anyways, if we get side tracked by the failing education system, we will never finish
BobbyJ: Seriously
GD: So, as far as what it's inviting me to do, it is to use my meantime more thoughtfully
My author friend is currently working on a book where the theme is about growth, and we had a 3 hour long conversation about what it means to grow and whether or not we had a moral choice to grow, and I argued that we didn't. And I maintain that change is constant, but growth is a capitalist trick/trap. But with the same breath, I'd say that I am often frustrated with the ways in which I fail to use my own meantime 'well'
Perhaps on the day, 'well' means productively, and perhaps some days it means something similar to healing, and maybe it could also mean something akin to what GG does: helping others, making a difference, etc. So I want to be more cognizant of how I'm using my meantime instead of just letting it pass me by and being frustrated when I get into bed at night thinking about where my day went
BobbyJ: I guess I would argue it depends on your definition of growth, but I disagree that growth is a capitalist trap/trick. There's a person that I want to be, and I don't believe the choices I make to become that person are related to capitalism at all. But if you're saying growth as in increased productivity--which I think is what you mean?--then yes. Capitalism all the way down. The idea that I MUST spend all my minutes productively is nonsense. I'm not a machine
GD: I suppose my real thought is something more like capitalism has invaded our vocabulary in such a way that it is hard to remove the capitalist baggage I associate with the word growth.
BobbyJ: Interesting. The concept of growth is entirely divorced from capitalism in my mind
GD: Perhaps this is why I'm so anti-capitalist. It's ruined me.
BobbyJ: Like I automatically think mental/emotional/spiritual
GD: I call that enlightenment and fulfillment, not growth, but of course it is a type of growth
BobbyJ: You need the specificity to create distance
GD: When I hear growth, I think "more" and "better" and "bigger"
BobbyJ: Huh.
GD: I grew up in a very capitalistic environment, including going to law school, and am really tapped into the hustle culture (like there is no one more likely to monetize a hobby than me) so I think it's just a product of my environment
BobbyJ: There is no one less likely to hustle than me
GD: Even on reddit--I could've just had a nice time discussing ateez, but I turned my hobby into a job (even if it is one I don't get paid for). I took us diving deep into these lore books and decided we should make it into content. I just cannot help myself
BobbyJ: Would bible study be as fulfilling for you if it never left our chat?
GD: I genuinely have no idea. I think it would probably maintain it's fulfillingness, but I think it would lose something else. I don't know what that something else is? We know most people aren't interested in this, but there is something about sharing it that feels Important in the big scheme of things
BobbyJ: I feel you're being too critical of yourself. There's a difference between trying to monetize something and simply wanting to share something with others who might appreciate it.
And I think it goes back to choosing to be the person you want to be? You find the diaries interesting and important and why wouldn't you want to share that?
GD: I think this is where my critique of capitalism comes from though
BobbyJ: That it makes things seem capitalist when they aren't?
GD: I am more likely than anyone to try to monetize things I enjoy, which I think is not so much my own capitalism as much as this feeling in my soul that finds it deeply frustrating that the things that make life worth living for me are not things that I can get paid to do. I think it's me being frustrated at having to play a game I don't want to play. If I knew of a way to monetize our bible studies, believe me, I'd be doing it.
BobbyJ: Podcast. It's right there
GD: The obvious answer is a podcast with ads, but the amount of things I'd need to learn compared to the very little money we would make is the only reason I haven't forced you into it
BobbyJ: Funny considering it's always been my idea
GD: I have made the very capitalist determination that I need to wait for you to learn all the things that need to be learned
BobbyJ: Well, my fatal flaw is inaction, so you will be waiting a good long while.
GD: I mean, it's entirely possible that I will decide enough is enough and this has to bring me some income, but for now, I can wait
BobbyJ: I can't wait to be earning $3 a month from bible study
GD: Incredible you think we'll get 3 whole dollars a month
BobbyJ: I dream big.
Okay, so. . . can I be honest and say that this passage is not inviting me to do anything at all?
GD: Yes
BobbyJ: And I can't say whether it's the passage itself just not fully resonating with me or if it's more where I am in my life right now
GD: We did shorten the passage to a relatively small sentence, but just in general, I think it's okay to be fine with examining something and then putting it back down without letting it really touch you
BobbyJ: I do think that's true. But I'm also in this weird and awkward place where I know something bad is on the horizon and I'm forced to just wait for it to happen without knowing when that might be. So, I'm in a meantime. And during this meantime, intentional growth is not for me.
GD: There is something to be said for not examining our meantime to closely too. We've certainly talked in bible study about living in the present and being grateful for small moments

04: A Closing Hymn

BobbyJ: What is our song for Wooyoung? Or for GG?
GD: Hmmm. This one feels hard to me. Have we used Better before?
BobbyJ: We have not.
Can I make an odd suggestion? Just go right off book
GD: Yes
BobbyJ: I would like to consider dedicating Eden's 'Little Bird' to GG
GD: Well in this household we love Eden. Let me look it up real quick. Remind myself of it
BobbyJ: It's very melancholy but a bit hopeful?
GD: Yes, I like it. So today's bible study song is Eden's Little Bird for GG?
BobbyJ: Yes, if you approve. (A quick note on the lyrics.)
GD: I love that bit about each translator doing it differently, which is why I would like KQ to give me all of their official translations for each song please.
I approve.

05: Closing Rosary

BobbyJ: I think my prayer for Wooyoung is that he will always be surrounded by as much love as he gives
GD: We see this in real life too--his love attracts love. Everyone loves Wooyoung, and I think it's because he gives his love so freely once he's decided you're one of his
BobbyJ: I have a rosary thought--are we ready to close?
GD: Yes
BobbyJ: Never alone
GD: Wooyoung
BobbyJ: Be the light
GD: Halazia
BobbyJ: Well done everybody
GD: High fives all around.
Nice work on the rosary. My brain has stopped braining.
BobbyJ: Wooyoung is an inspiration to us all
------
And that's it for our discussion on Wooyoung! Next week we will be back with the start of Seonghwa's page. Let us know what you thought of Wooyoung's section and whether you had any different thoughts on the quote we looked at today!

I had a discussion with a group of friends, they are both of Christian faith, however they enjoy debating Christianity with me (I am not a Christian). I will ask them, if God is all powerful and all knowing, then why does evil exist? Why does God require worship? That doesn't sound like a incomprehensible-all loving-all forgiving and 'egoless' God. It seems, however, that once I try to dig as deep as I can, I always get shut down by free will. "God created free will for everything, and because of that xyz can't happen."
So let me ask you bible scholars, what is a counter argument to free will? Please shed some knowledge on free will as well, I want to understand its purpose and why God created it.

This is a weekly reminder post of this sub's stance on potential copyright infringement. This is a serious issue that needs to be kept in mind when creating and listing NFTs.
Original post by u/HurleyBird1
Quick disclaimer: I AM NOT A LAWYER. THIS IS NOT LEGAL ADVICE - THIS IS SIMPLY INFORMATION WITH WHICH TO EDUCATE YOURSELVES AND PREPARE YOURSELF FOR LEGAL ADVICE FROM A LICENSED SOURCE.
Now that that's out of the way. My credentials are: MBA, with a bit of business law classes under my belt.
I want to give a quick explanation of how copyright works - and I'll do so through quick blurbs n some myth/reality bullets.
Source: copyright.gov (US)

1. Subject matter of copyright: In general28(a) Copyright protection subsists, in accordance with this title, in original works of authorship fixed in any tangible medium of expression, now known or later developed, from which they can be perceived, reproduced, or otherwise communicated, either directly or with the aid of a machine or device. Works of authorship include the following categories:(1) literary works;(2) musical works, including any accompanying words;(3) dramatic works, including any accompanying music;(4) pantomimes and choreographic works;(5) pictorial, graphic, and sculptural works;(6) motion pictures and other audiovisual works;(7) sound recordings; and(8) architectural works.(b) In no case does copyright protection for an original work of authorship extend to any idea, procedure, process, system, method of operation, concept, principle, or discovery, regardless of the form in which it is described, explained, illustrated, or embodied in such work.

- Myth: I can use any image/song/video/writing I want.
- Reality: No. Not true at all.
- Myth: Well they never said it's copyrighted.
- Reality: Upon publication (and even while a work in progress) a work is automatically protected via copyright under US Law.
- Myth: Well they never sold it.
- Reality: It doesn't have to be commercialized to be protected.
- Myth: Well it was a long time ago
- Reality: Possibly true...as long as the creator is deceased (or if multiple creators, the last living one is deceased) and the required time has passed...although this gets tricky with "estates."
(d) Duration of Rights.—(1) With respect to works of visual art created on or after the effective date set forth in section 610(a) of the Visual Artists Rights Act of 1990, the rights conferred by subsection (a) shall endure for a term consisting of the life of the author.
So what's this thing I hear called "Fair Use?"
Straight from the source:

1. Limitations on exclusive rights: Fair use41Notwithstanding the provisions of sections 106 and 106A, the fair use of a copyrighted work, including such use by reproduction in copies or phonorecords or by any other means specified by that section, for purposes such as criticism, comment, news reporting, teaching (including multiple copies for classroom use), scholarship, or research, is not an infringement of copyright. In determining whether the use made of a work in any particular case is a fair use the factors to be considered shall include—(1) the purpose and character of the use, including whether such use is of a commercial nature or is for nonprofit educational purposes;(2) the nature of the copyrighted work;(3) the amount and substantiality of the portion used in relation to the copyrighted work as a whole; and(4) the effect of the use upon the potential market for or value of the copyrighted work.The fact that a work is unpublished shall not itself bar a finding of fair use if such finding is made upon consideration of all the above factors.

Uhh...help me translate that please... (here's a decent official translation: https://www.copyright.gov/fair-use/more-info.html)

1. above...if it's non-profit educational use, you're usually good to go...if it's for money or trade (commercial nature) then you're usually NOT...unless YOUR piece is "transformative"

Transformative uses are those that add something new, with a further purpose or different character, and do not substitute for the original use of the work.
- Myth: Well this is paid for in Algos, not USD so it's not "commercial"
- Reality: IT IS commercial. You could even barter for bacon and it'd be commercial. It's an exchange of one good/service for another good/service.
- Myth: My piece with Batman inside a card is "transformative"
- Reality: No, unfortunately, more-than-likely the courts would say it's not. A good litmus test is..."If Warner Bros Entertainment (owner of Batman) wanted to make an NFT/ASA "Batman card" would yours compete with it or be possibly mistaken (by a reasonable person - so in America think 8th grade education) for real merchandise? Probably...thus it's not transformative enough.
"nature" gets a little tougher. This looks at protecting the "creative process." Thus, using other works of art is less-likely to be protected than using factual sources - like historical photographs since it's easier to "create art" and thus "transform" factual pieces than other art pieces. This is also talking to things like "parody." Satire is NOT protected. "Parody" is. What's the difference? LegalZoomputs it well: While a parody targets and mimics the original work to make a point, a satire uses the original work to criticize something else entirely. Another way to look at it is that satire uses another work as a way to comment on something happening in the world that has nothing to do with the original work.
- Myth: I added a different border, extra planets, and some blur effect to MTZ's World of Light - it's a new piece of art.
- Reality: Not likely the courts will see it that way.
- Myth: This guy added a filter, some burn effects, and collaged a bunch of newspaper headlines together - isn't that a violation!
- Reality: Probably not...the courts would probably see this as a creation of art out of factual sources.
amount/substantiality in relation to the whole...this is where using clips of songs that are only like 5 seconds long works! But using more than that...runs into problems. This is tough to decipher too...as some songs are EASILY identifiable from just 5 seconds (Ice, ice, baby) - and thus NOT fair use. But some aren't. Usually you're safe using a very small clip of a song or video - especially if you're adding more to it. But this is a dangerous game to play - and there's places to get free audio (some sources below)
effect of the use - this is probably the biggest one. Courts will look at simply...does YOUR work affect the sales or potential for sales of the copyright owner. Of note...this is looked at at the time of the issue being brought to the court, not at the time of sale. For example, let's say my batman card sells for 10 Algos today, but Algorand BLOWS UP and soon every NFT is on Algorand. And now my OG Batman NFT is seen as one of the first Batman ones and official. Warner Bros gonna sue the shit outta whoever owns it at the time they sue to get the rights to all sales of that NFT. So that person is left holding an empty bag when Warner Bros wins in court.
- Myth: Well they're not commercializing it NOW so I'm safe.
- Reality: Technically, yea Warner Bros probably won't spend the money to go after the OG artist and the hands the asset passed through...HOWEVER, they may. That's their right. Who knows - the Napster days showed us the lengths companies will go to. EVEN BIGGER HOWEVER, the last person holding it when Warner Bros DOES decide to go after that Batman NFT...uh oh for them - they just lost their asset.
- Myth: Well it's been like a year, and no one has brought up copyright. So I'm good.
- Reality: If this was in a normal market...maybe this argument would work. If McDonald's let you sell a Ronald McDonald poster for like a year on Amazon with no issues, some court may say "bro, you took too long to bring this to us." HOWEVER, with cryptocurrency being so new (and Algorand being so little known/discussed), most courts would see it as "reasonable" that a copyright owner failed to exercise their rights within a year - possibly even a decade. (Updated because I realized last example dealt with trademark not copyright :o)
So what am I safe to use?
US Government works (mostly)...any deemed free to use by creator...and any a copyright lawyer says they have your backs on (cuz now they're liable).
Here's some great sources for free use items (please add to this list below if you know of some!!!):
Pictures: https://buffer.com/library/free-images/ (Unsplash is one of my faves)
Music: https://www.wix.com/blog/photography/2019/11/27/free-music-for-videos/
Video: https://blog.hootsuite.com/free-stock-videos-sites/
You'll notice there's a lot of "shoulds" "coulds" "probably" etc. This is because copyright cases are all unique and go to the courts. The best bet is to go with stuff you KNOW is free and fair-use. If not, I'd look up copyright law, consult supreme court cases concerning copyright, and ultimately, talk to a lawyer.
AGAIN: I AM NOT A LAWYER. I AM NOT PROVIDING LEGAL ADVICE. I AM SIMPLY PROVIDING INFORMATION. THERE MAY BE ERRORS ABOVE THAT COULD CAUSE SUBSTANTIAL DAMAGES - CONSULT A COPYRIGHT ATTORNEY IF YOU WISH TO RECEIVE LEGAL ADVICE.

Howdy all, put simply Im looking for a thunder ridge tent lol. I graduated from scouting and work in national parks now, and a tent that can handle serious abuse is slowly becoming more and more of a necessity.
I know supply chain issues made them hard to come by, and checking the TOT website it looks like they ain’t back there yet. Any leads in where to find one would be appreciated
(And as a little side note, I’m fine with used, but I’d prefer to go through a known website)

Here you can find listed below general information on BDD and related foundations, the clinical classification and symptoms of BDD, advice for friends and family, as well as self-help and support groups, both in-person and online.
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General information
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The BDD Foundation
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OCD UK
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International OCD Foundation
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Mind.org
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Clinical classification
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ICD & DSM Criterias
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For friends and family
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The BDD Foundation, Supporting a close one with BDD
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Mind.org, How can friends and family help
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Self-help
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Body dysmorphia workbook by the CCI
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Building self-compassion workbook by the CCI
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Support groups
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Online support and therapy groups
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Support groups in the UK

I made a new account just for this post and also english isn’t my first language so i hope you can still follow along.
We’ve been together for 2 years and our relationship has been good (or so I thought). We both drink alcohol like once a month and go out with our friends. He never wants to go to bars with me, so we go separetly, even tho I have asked him to join with me many times.
The cheating happened last november and this was the day i wasn’t out because i had to work the next day, but he was at a club. I just found out two weeks ago, because the girl (f20) i used to go to school with, sent me text out of nowhere saying that she had sex with my bf six months ago. I was in shock because i thought he would never do that to me.
The girl who he cheated on me with basically said that they had been snapchatting for a while before and then met at the club. About 5am they left to his place by a bus and had sex. She didn’t know we were together and apparently in the morning he told her that she can’t talk about this to anyone
Of course immediately after finding out I called him (he was once again at the same club) and he didn’t pick up. After he woke up he read all of my texts and screenshots i send him of the messages the girl sent me. He called me crying and said that he can’t remember anything from that night and he was blackout drunk. He said he’d never cheat on me and the girl took advantage of him. I asked my bf why didn’t he just told me right after this happened and he said that he was afraid. I really wanna believe him because i love him so much
I’ve gotten too drunk sometimes but never even thought about cheating on him. My friends wouldn’t even let me go with a stranger if i was blackout drunk. I’m thinking that his friends didn’t even know he had a gf. Every time i try to talk to him about this again he just gets mad and says that i don’t believe him. His and the girls’ stories about what happened doesn’t match. Why does he get mad at me for asking about what happened?
Tldr: My bf got blackout drunk and had sex with the girl i know from school. Their stories are different and my boyfriend says that the girl took advantage of him.

Hello everyone, my issue is basically what is in the title. I have some really bad OCD/ Hyper Focusing Issues, and Anxiety. I stumbled across ENS before my Surgery but decided to go through when my Doctor acknowledged ENS and told me how he’d be doing my Surgery (Submucosal Resection VIA Microdebrider) whilst taking out a bone spur. (Dumb Decision I know.) Basically my issue is I cannot decipher if my symptoms are ENS based or me hyper focusing and worrying about my nose in general. To explain what I have to keep it short basically my Nose constantly feels slightly stuffed. I still produce Mucus and if my nose is clogged I can tell by breathing out and it feeling clogged. The thing is it’s almost like my turbinates swelled up again.(it’s been some time since my surgery) It feels kind of like “I don’t get enough air” when I breathe in, I have a good idea that it’s actual blockage since when I breathe out I can feel the pressure as if something is inside my nose, and the sensation of blockage varies which changes how much airflow I feel when breathing in hard, but I do notice my breathing a lot of the time and it’s hard to just calmly breathe and feel like I’m getting enough air. (When breathing in softly sometimes the airflow feels how I describe it as “faint”) Sometimes when I breathe in deep it feels like the air is “blocked” deeper inside of my nose. But when I shut one nostril and breathe in the same way I can feel it reach a little deeper. This hyper focusing on how it feels to breathe in through my nose questioning if the airflow is right or if something’s wrong has really worsened me. I know you guys cannot give an answer considering you’re not a ENT but I believed possibly you could help me decipher considering you know how it feels dealing with ENS (My deepest condolences to you all.) What keeps me believing I possibly don’t have ens is I don’t deal with the pain symptoms or struggle to sleep, but I know ens can vary depending on the individual. Thank you for all your responses and prayers to you.
Edit: To go into detail about the airflow sensation sometimes it feels like I don’t feel the air “flow” all the way. Kind of like it’s stagnant at times if I breathe in really soft, Or Also if I should be feeling the airflow more on the upper part of my nostrils as well as it goes in considering I don’t really feel my airflow there. If I sit there and just focus on my breathing for a while at times I can describe it as “weak”. I wonder if I wasn’t so hyper focused on my breathing if it would feel different or if something is actually wrong.

Pine needles brushed across Paul's arms as he charged through the trees with his bugout bag slung over his shoulders. Weighing in at forty pounds, it hardly slowed him down as he’d practiced this hike many times. He flicked his wrist and checked his Garmin Solar 2 Tactical Watch. The timer read: 2:23.
“You can do this, Paul.” He increased the pace and gritted his teeth, the weight finally having an effect. Paul bounded over a small creek, up a rolling hill, and pushed through a row of baby birches into a clearing. He doubled over to catch his breath and looked at his watch one more time. Two hours and twenty-eight minutes. Paul pumped his fist in victory.
After a short break, he approached a thorny bush in the center of the clearing. Paul brushed aside sand at the bush’s trunk, revealing a yellow rope. He pulled it, which lifted a hidden door in the ground covered with dirt, shrubbery, and other camouflage on the top side, and drab gray iron on the other. Underneath, wooden stairs descended into darkness. Paul retrieved a flashlight from his pack, clicked on the beam, and disappeared into the earth.
At the bottom of the steps, Paul faced a steel door and a combination lock. With several quick swipes of the dial, he opened the lock and tugged the metal door, which creaked as it cracked open. Paul flashed the beam on the offending hinges and shook his head. Something to fix later. He stepped into the secret chamber and pulled a hanging aluminum chain that turned on a large halogen light, illuminating a twenty-foot by eight-foot metal rectangle. The exposed corrugated walls revealed the bunker was nothing more than a shipping container. Paul buried it two years ago and had divided the interior into three spaces. The entry had a shelf with four dozen gallon jugs of sealed water along with a portable toilet, stacks of toilet paper, and a wastebasket. The middle section was the main living area and contained a futon, a TV with a DVD player, and a neat collection of movies underneath. A nightstand housed a small library of books, including the Bible, The Art of Meditation, Buddhism for Dummies, and other spiritual tomes. The back area of the unit had two shelves filled with canned food—black beans, green beans, peaches, peas, carrots, beef, and chicken. There was also a stationary bike, which was Paul’s proudest accomplishment because he had rigged it to a giant battery that provided power to all the electronics.
Paul was a prepper, and this would be his home when the end of the world came, an event he believed was imminent. The global economy was a house of cards built on greed, corruption, and inflated asset prices, but worst of all, it was based on a faith in paper and digital money.
His fear was triggered four years ago when he attended a lecture by a professor who explained the fragility of the world’s financial system. If a few banks failed, it would rattle people’s confidence, causing a herd-like response. Thousands of people would rush to withdraw their cash, which the banks no longer had because they’d invested it. The banks would either fail, and everyday folks would lose their life savings, or the government would print new money to replace the missing money, making all money worth a lot less. Anyone holding dollars would attempt to convert them to other assets.
Just like dominoes, the banks would topple over one by one, and as they crashed, people’s faith in money would crater. After all, what was money? It was just paper with printed images and numbers that we’d all accepted as having value. More recently, money had become numbers displayed on a computer screen, something Paul knew firsthand as he spent the first seven years of his career working at a regional bank in Asheville, North Carolina. Paul could literally change someone’s net worth with a few keystrokes. He could turn a pauper into a millionaire, or he could bankrupt the richest account holder. Sure, there were safeguards, but all were built on faith, which Paul believed was misplaced. Most people didn’t realize that the Federal Reserve only required each bank to hold at least ten percent of its deposits as a reserve. Ten percent. That’s it. The rest of the money was invested in loans or other financial instruments. As the rich bank owners and executives pushed for bigger and bigger returns, they invested in riskier and riskier assets. The lessons from the financial crisis of 2008 had been forgotten.
Once the monetary system collapsed, the entire economy would become paralyzed. Without a means of exchange, transactions would halt. Think about it. If someone tried to give you a slip of paper that you thought was worthless, would you give them anything of value in return?
The doomsday scenario would escalate. Food and water prices would skyrocket, but with no way to purchase them, many would starve. But people don’t just roll over and die, they would riot and take what they need to survive. Marshall Law would be implemented, but citizens would revolt against the government they felt had cheated them.
As Paul listened to the lecturer that fateful day, a depressing epiphany struck. Everything he’d learned and everything he’d spent his life acquiring was worthless.
Growing up, Paul had been taught the value of money, saving, and planning for retirement. He internalized these lessons as a teen after his father got sick and lost his job. His mother had died when he was very young, but his father still managed to provide him with a stable childhood, even though they were barely middle class. When his father fell ill, Paul witnessed firsthand how fast a family could sink into financial trouble, which couldn’t have come at a worse time. He was applying to colleges, and instead of choosing the one he liked best, he chose the one that gave him the most financial aid, which turned out to be a small school half-way across the country. He also didn’t choose a major he was excited about; he chose the one that would offer the safest financial prospects—economics with an emphasis on banking.
The distance from home meant that Paul didn’t see the rapid deterioration of his father. It wasn’t until he returned for the funeral that family friends told him how the disease had spread. His father had refused to let anyone tell Paul because he didn’t want that to distract Paul from his studies.
After graduating, Paul accepted a job at a bank, and immediately signed up for the company’s 401K match. Most college graduates can't grasp retirement when they enter the workforce, but a 401K match was free money. Over the next several years, Paul worked diligently to advance his career while saving most of his salary. He’d mapped out his life on an excel spreadsheet and calculated that he’d be financially secure at 53.
Everything went according to plan until that damn lecturer came along and blew it up. Sifting through the rubble of his grand scheme, Paul realized that in the new world order, he possessed no skills to survive. The savings he’d so meticulously built up would have little to no value. When the economy collapsed, he'd be like a baby, unable to do anything for himself.
After a week of wallowing in despair, Paul rallied himself. “I can still fix this” became a daily mantra. To start, he threw himself into survival classes. The first was a basic camping course where he learned how to create shelters and start a fire. The next class was more advanced and focused on water purification and building snares for small game.
Paul continued working at the bank, because he needed to pay for the classes and survival equipment he began hoarding, but on his next vacation, he put his training to the test. He planned to camp for a week in the Appalachian Mountains, but the temperature swings, especially at night, were too much. Paul lasted three nights in the wild. The humbling experience forced him to admit that he wasn’t a bushman. His depression returned until he stumbled upon an article about “preppers”—individuals who prepare for end of world disasters. Suddenly, things made sense. He didn’t need to abandon all the comforts of modern society. He needed to prepare for the end of the world the way he had planned for retirement.
As Paul traveled down the rabbit hole of prepping, he uncovered an underground society of people like him who knew the truth about the world’s demise. Of course, not everyone believed it would end because of an economic collapse. Some thought a nuclear war would destroy civilization. Others feared electromagnetic pulses from the sun would wipe out all modern electricity. And still others worried a massive volcanic eruption would spew enough ash and soot into the air to blot out the sun. There was no shortage of theories about the world ending, but one thing was clear. The world would end. Did it matter how it happened?
Paul began his prepping quest by purchasing ten acres an hour and a half outside of Asheville. It had plenty of small animals and a creek running through the middle. He then transported an unused cargo container to the land and buried it. This was the toughest part of the plan because it required heavy equipment. Next, he dug out a staircase and installed a steel door at the entrance. Finally, he furnished it with a mix of modern comforts and survival essentials.
Almost every weekend, Paul trekked to his underground sanctuary and made improvements. He also planned his bugout strategy. When the end of the world hit, he figured he needed to be safely hidden in his home within two and a half hours, a time he had achieved with this latest trip. Everything was set, and Paul could finally relax. He was prepared.
Paul slumped down on his futon and considered playing a movie or cracking the bottle of Jim Beam whiskey he stored in a special cabinet, but he shook off the urge. Those things were the rewards and comforts he’d enjoy after the world ended. His fingers rubbed the top of the Bible, something he planned to read cover to cover once the global economy cratered. He’d have plenty of time then to discover his spiritual side, but not now. Something else needed to be done. Something he’d missed.
The biggest mistake a prepper can make is assuming he had everything covered. This was the lesson taught by Yannis, the guru of the prepping world. He was so well-known within the doomsday community; he only went by one name. The guy was sharp as a whip and could live off the land, if necessary, but he preferred a more sophisticated lifestyle, so he created a luxurious cave that contained backup systems for all his backups. Food, water, shelter, and electricity were all taken care of, and it was projected that Yannis could survive ten years comfortably after the apocalypse. His famous blog titled “ABP” stood for Always Be Preparing. It was a motto Yannis lived by and something Paul aspired to, but as he sat in his bunker after the relentless hike, fatigue set in. He didn’t want to think about prepping or his bugout strategy. He wanted to just be.
Paul tilted his head back onto the futon’s cushion, and a loneliness crept into his mind. All his prepping left little time for relationships. He dated off and on in college, but it was never anything serious. It wasn’t like his high school sweetheart, Kristin Summer. They dated junior and senior year, but then Paul broke it off when his father got sick. Paul couldn’t focus on romance, and he knew the relationship wouldn’t have worked when he left for school 1,500 miles away. It still hurt when he learned from a friend that Kristin started dating Derek Gorman, an old classmate Paul hated. It hurt even more when he found out they had gotten married.
After college, Paul joined a couple of dating sites, but he hadn’t used them in over two years. Most women wouldn’t understand his prepping lifestyle, at least that’s what he feared, so he rejected dating before anyone could reject him. But most wasn't all, and with eight billion people on the planet, there had to be someone for him. Almost without thinking, Paul pulled out his phone and opened “My Match,” the site where he’d had the most luck. His profile still had a photo from his early banking days. He was clean shaven with a naïve smile. The face staring back in the picture differed greatly from the bearded survivalist he’d become. Would anyone consider a relationship with the new Paul? Only one way to find out. He snapped a selfie, uploaded it, and then updated his hobbies with the first being “prepping” followed by “survival skills training.” He finished by pressing the button that showed he was actively looking for someone. All he had to do now was wait.
After spending the night in his bunker, Paul checked the dating site in the morning. No response. “It was a stupid idea,” he told himself, and stuffed his phone back into his pocket. He locked his container and returned home.
Over the next two weeks, Paul received zero requests for a date. He didn’t even receive a message from anyone to start a conversation and test the waters. “Shake it off, dumbass,” he said alone in the confines of his cottage-style home. “The world is going to end, anyway.” He clenched his jaw and did what he always did. He researched more ways to survive. Paul poured over blog posts and imagined worst-case scenarios. How could his water be contaminated? Maybe he should bury some caches of water. What if someone finds his shelter? Maybe security cameras were needed. What if he gets lonely in his shelter? No ideas came to mind.
After his eyes got tired from reading, Paul clicked out of his browser, and the list of all his apps stared at him. For reasons unknown to him, he opened Facebook, something he hadn’t done for months. There were a handful of notifications and a couple of friend requests sent weeks ago. His heart raced when he saw the name of one—Kristin Summer. When he accepted, he saw she was on-line right then.
Should he message her? Would that be weird right after accepting her request? But wasn’t it weird that he hadn’t responded for several weeks? He pulled up the messenger and typed. “Hey. Sorry for the delay in accepting your request. Hadn’t been on Facebook in a while. Been busy. Hope you and Derek are well.”
He curled his lip in disgust as he typed Derek’s name and considered deleting it, but he took the moral high ground and hit “send” with his message unaltered.
Kristin Summer. Just the thought of her name brought a smile to Paul’s face.
Bing.
The sound alerted Paul to a response, which he read out loud. “Hey Paul. Good to hear from you. Derek and I divorced a little over a year ago. It was rough at first, but it was for the best. How are you?”
Paul’s eyes widened with shock and excitement. He couldn’t believe Derek was so stupid to let Kristin go. Paul could at least blame their breakup on his father’s illness. His fingers prattled away on the keyboard. “Things are amazing.” He stopped typing. That was a lie. Should he pretend like things were great or should he be honest and tell her about his prepping and the end of the world? Neither option sounded appealing. He tapped the keys without writing until he settled on something uncontroversial.
“Working at Trinity Bank in Asheville. It pays the bills. Where are you?”
Within a minute, the sweet sound of the notification binged. “I’m not too far away in Durham. If you’re ever in town, let me know.”
If you’re ever in town, let me know.
Paul couldn’t believe his eyes. Was Kristin asking him out? He shook his head. Nah, she’s probably just being polite. But maybe. If there was any chance, he had to find out. He chewed his lip and deliberated his next response. Fortune favors the bold, he told himself. Then he remembered Matt Damon telling people that in the now infamous commercial for FTX months before its collapse. When that occurred, Paul thought it was the beginning of the end, and he lived in his bunker for two days before emerging and finding the world still intact.
Paul clenched his fist. It was still good advice, and he had to try. Almost involuntarily, he typed, “I’ll be there tomorrow afternoon. If you want to get together, let me know.” His finger hit send before he could talk himself out of it. There was no qualification in the message. No waffling or hedging. It was clear Paul wanted to see Kristin. The only question now was whether she wanted to see him.
The next ten minutes felt like ten days. Paul paced back and forth with his hands over his head, and he glanced at the monitor every few seconds, just in case his ears had missed the notification alert.
There was nothing.
A dark depression filled the room. Why had he gotten his hopes up? What was the point, anyway? The world was going to end.
Bing.
Paul leapt to the computer and his eyes widened with each word he read. “How about a lunch at The Fig Tree Restaurant on 7th?”
People overuse the word literally, but Paul at least felt like his jaw was literally on the floor. He had a date with Kristin Summer, the one woman he had loved. His hands rattled away at the keyboard. “See you at 1 tomorrow.”
“Holy crap,” he muttered to himself.
Panic replaced his excitement when he imagined sitting down and talking to Kristin. What would he say? “Hey Kristin, what have you been up to? Oh me? I’ve been working at a job I hate and planning for the end of the world.”
He drifted into the bathroom and stared at the scruffy character in the mirror. Paul could only cringe at the thought of Kristin’s reaction upon seeing him. She might not recognize the bearded loner who resembled Ted Kaczynski more than the short-haired, clean-shaven teen she last saw.
Only one thing to do.
Paul had to prepare. He opened a drawer and pulled out a pair of clippers. He began trimming his beard and mustache as short as the clippers would allow. Next, he applied a generous amount of cream and shaved all of it off. Paul smirked at the young man hiding under the shabby beard, but it still wasn’t enough. He set the guard on the clippers to a four and began shaving his head. In college, Paul cut his own hair to save money, and the skill came back to him quickly. He dropped to a three and worked in a fade on the sides and then finished with a two. Paul turned to the left, then to the right, and assessed his work. Not bad.
Next thing to prepare was his outfit. Paul slid the door of his closet open and evaluated his choices. A banker’s suit was too stuffy, and his mountain man denim was too hermit inspired. He yanked the clothes aside and climbed deeper into the recesses of his wardrobe until he found a nice buttoned-down shirt and a dark pair of slacks. It gave just the right vibe of successful and stable, while not trying too hard to impress, even though that was his precisely his goal. Paul laid the selection on the chair by his bed. Durham was a three-and-a-half-hour drive away, and he wanted to make sure he got there with time to find parking, and maybe use the restroom. He set the alarm on his iPhone for 6 a.m. That would give him plenty of time to take a shower, have breakfast, and get dressed.
There was no chance of falling asleep easily. His mind raced with thoughts, questions, and various scenarios about what the day would bring. To relax, he poured himself a double whiskey, which he downed with a single slurp. He poured another and sipped.
Kristin Summer. He shook his head, still in disbelief.
As the effect of alcohol set in, Paul laid down on his bed and shut his eyes. Tomorrow would be a good day.
Paul slipped into a deep, satisfying sleep until his mind jolted him awake. It was past 6 a.m. He didn’t know how he knew. He just knew. Paul had slept through his alarm. He snatched his phone off the nightstand, but it was out of battery. He checked his watch and saw it was 7 a.m. There was still time to get to Durham.
Paul jumped out of bed and into the bathroom. He flicked on the light switch, but nothing came on. Paul toggled it on and off, but the outlet was dead.
Police sirens wailed in the distance. Paul meandered out of his house and onto the front lawn. Aside from the sirens, there was an uneasy stillness. Paul’s neighbor Kurt ran out from his home with two suitcases that he flung into the trunk of his car.
“Kurt. What’s going on?” Paul asked.
“Fort Knox was bombed. All the gold was obliterated. And something happened to the electricity and the internet. They shut it down.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know, man, but it’s not good. No one has access to news, no money, nothing.”
“Where are you going?” Paul asked.
“I don’t know. Somewhere isolated. I’m just hoping there are no more bombings or other attacks.” Kurt jumped into his car and sped away.
This was it. The world was ending. All of his preps were about to pay off. But what about Kristin? Paul didn’t want the world to end. If he tried to get Kristin, there was no chance he could reach his shelter before things get hairy. Plus, there was no way he could find her. He didn’t have her address, and she might have already left Durham for somewhere safe.
Paul forced himself to focus on his plan. This was what he had prepared for. He dashed back inside and changed into his camouflage gear, grabbed his bugout bag, and then sprinted to his truck. He drove through his neighborhood and reached the main road. His shelter and plans were to the left. Kristin and the unknown were to the right. The whites of Paul’s knuckles flared as he gripped the steering wheel. Now was not the time to waffle. He turned left and hit the accelerator.
Paul gritted his teeth and raced down the street. Keep going. Keep going. He urged himself on. Almost involuntarily, his foot slammed on the brakes. Paul couldn’t do it. He’d planned for the worst all his life, and while he sat alone with the engine idling, he had to admit the truth. He’d lived all his life in fear.
Paul yanked the wheel and turned around toward Durham.

So my best friend and I play DnD online and the two of us sit in the same room and talk into the same mic (HyperX Quadcast) on discord with the rest of the group. Everyone thinks we sound exactly the same and can’t tell our voices apart. One of them recently met the two of us in person for the first time and said that our voices don’t sound remotely similar in person.
Is there any reason why that might be that could be related to the mic/audio?

I’ve always had a hard time with these things. But I’ve always had my best friend from birth to help me through it. But just recently about a couple months ago she started dating this guy. It wasn’t an issue at first until he started attacking me. I’d get messages calling me a druggy (for smoking weed), accusing me of pressuring her into things, telling me to kill myself, etc. I’d always ask her about these things, specifically the pressuring stuff, and she’d always refute it saying he’s lying. But after some new insight I’ve found out that she’s probably been lying to me and telling him different things. Some other things have also caused me to not trust her anymore. She’s different now. I’m upset, because he gave her an ultimatum twice, me or him, and she’s always assured me that she’d choose me. But I watched her text him that she chooses him. But that part that really bothers me is that she let all this go on for as long as it did. A best friend wouldn’t let her boyfriend treat me like that. Wouldn’t lie to me. We had talks about it but I always felt like she either just didn’t care or it was in one ear out the other. I still don’t think she fully grasps how much and how deeply this has affected me, even though she says she does. The worst part is that I don’t even know how much of our friendship has been a lie now. I feel like I see my best friend sitting next to me but she feels so out of reach, so different. Now I have no one. 17 years of friendship, ruined by a guy. Something that we always thought would last forever. Now I have no one. I cant even think about the situation without wanting to die. I used to tell her everything, but now i cant. She doesn’t know that I want to kill myself. I feel like they’d both be happier without me. I feel just like a bother to her now.
On top of that, I have new medical issues that I keep having to get poked for, my country hates me and actively tries to take my healthcare away, I’ve been outed to everyone and get weird looks now, I fucking hate it here. I keep getting told to think about my future and college and jobs that’ll pay well when I haven’t even managed to make it through high school yet. I’ve always been the “gifted” one. Exceptionally high grades, always working. Now there’s so much expectations and pressure on me and I’m just so worn down. My grades have slipped a little and my grandma tells me that the only thing that’ll get me through life is an education so I better pick up my slack. The only thing keeping me here is that my family would blame themselves. I want to leave so bad. I don’t want to deal with this crushing weight in my chest anymore. This incident and losing my best friend was just the straw that broke the camels back. The past few night I’ll just sit on the floor in the dark with the shower running just wondering if tonight’s the night I finally decide to do it.