I’m trying to translate a foreign word whose meaning reads something like: “a place (farm, business, or institution etc.) that preserves or stores seeds that retain the characteristics original to the species or variety for the purpose of preserving, improving, and supplying them.”
Obviously, I don’t know much about farming and I’m asking kind redditors to help me out with an English word that describes something like this.
Thanks!

Hi Reddit users! My name is Sofia. English is not my native language, so it can be bad and too formal sometimes. I hope that I will not embarrass my English teacher on the Internet and the translator will not let me down ;).
I'm a newbie in Reddit community, this net isn't very popular in my country. I sign up and write this post to tell you my story and hear your opinion and advise. I can't speak about this with my friends and especially parents, because I don't want to disturb them. Only 3 my close friends know about this situation, but they have no idea what is happening right now. I would be very happy if people with similar experience would share it with me. Maybe this can help me somehow
Okay.. On May 28, 2022, I was scrolling through my Tiktok feed and saw a video where girl asked to drop your id in a comments for bringing people to the Telegram chat. I already had the experience of being in chatrooms, most of my friends were abroad and I really lacked communication with others. That's why I sent my id and I don't regret it at all, because this chat became a real 2nd family for me (fortunately, there were no russians there, but there were people from Ukraine, Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, Belarus, etc.)
When I talked a little, a guy with Spike Spiegel avatar joined the conversation (it was thanks to him that I became so fond of "Cowboy Bebop" lmao). We were so different and so the similar at the same time. He was much more relaxed and confident than me, but we had almost the same problems and life experiences, so we got off on the right foot with him. Even the results in the stupid tests on the uquiz were identical with us. We became good friends almost immediately. I always waited for his messages and his thoughts, because they often coincided with us. So the fact that I fell in love with him was not surprising and very natural. However, there were some things, which made me wary (although I constantly tried to throw anxious thoughts out of my head):

1. His name - Zhenya. I should admit that Zhenia is a short non-formal form of 2 names - Evgen/Evgeniy(male) or Evgenia(female). Therefore, this form of the name is quite non-binary and is used by both men and women. Also, I know that his real name was Julian (feminine form - Juliana, Julia), and he later changed it to Evgeniy in documents. But even here the form of the name Zhenya was used, although less often. (Sorry if I spelled these names wrong)
2. His pronouns - he/she. He said that he didn't care how people addressed him on the Internet, but he usually used the he/him, that's why we all addressed him that way. Zhenya also used the passive voice of verbs and the infinitive when talked about himself and if necessary, he used verbs in the masculine gender. In the chat, we addressed each other as "you" in a respectful manner (like "Sie" in German language).
3. He spoke very little. Yes, it was part of his character - he didn't like to talk about himself for no reason and that made him a great listener. Unfortunately, I only now realized that he did it also in order not to say something superfluous.
4. His interests, hobbies, and behavior fit more within the "boy" boundaries than the "girl" ones. Of course, this sounds very subjective and a bit stereotypical, but I've never met a girl or woman who likes Resident Evil games or old Japanese motorcycles (by no means judging female readers who like those things, I do too their). It was also about his behavior, manner of correspondence and experiences that usually happen with men.
5. Zhenya never sent his photos. There were photos of nature, the sky, the streets, anything but my own( he has just sent photos of his hand and eye). He promised us for a long time that he would definitely send them when he bought a new camera or simply when he could, but we never saw them. Of course, no one pressured him, but everyone was very interested. Honestly, me too, but even if there was far from the standard of world beauty, I wouldn't give up my feelings for him.

Probably all these points were pretty obvious cause for concern. And I was worried. Although my defense mechanism or just cockroaches in my head kept saying and saying that all this is complete nonsense and not worth my attention.
I reached such a peak of feelings for him that I was absolutely not concerned about the appearance , only the person himself and his personality. I only had to fall in love with the personality. But not everything was so terrible (I thought so), because Zhenya described himself in words. Yes, it was quite silly to believe this, but I was a fool in love. I sat like a policeman with my drawing skills (I studied for 5 years at an art school and graduated from it) and composed his photo robot. I didn't get anything( It was reminiscent of putting together the characters from books - you understood their features in appearance, but could not imagine them together.
As I said above, members of the chat have literally become my second family and close friends. They began to dream of me. Everyone was beautiful, alive, as if they just came out of photographs, and so real that I remember these impressive dreams down to the smallest details. Zhenya was there too, with a blurred face, his incredible reddish-blonde hair and with soft dark hands with thin fingers. One day he did dream clearly to me. I was able to see in my dream all the things that I could not put in a heap for so long. That day I cried a lot, literally everything that I had kept inside for so long came out of me.
When I was having a bad time, I saw him online and decided to write about my well-being. He did not mind and helped me a lot. I started writing to him in private messages more often. If someone looked at our correspondence, they would say "Damn, they've been dating for 100 years!" We very often wrote to each other "I love you", words of thanks and support. He loved to listen and praise me. Every day I wanted to confess to him more and more, but I was afraid of it. I was afraid of his reaction or that our friendship would simply end. I could talk about it for a long time, but one event melted everything into place.
It was May 28, 2023, we were celebrating the chat's birthday. After greetings and wishes, we just started texting and reminiscing about how the Internet led us. Then the girl from the chat wrote: "Just imagine what phrases we will say to each other when we meet for the first time..." I wrote "OMG, Zhenya is a woman???", and he replied "Well, it's generally canon" . We were stunned because we thought it was a joke. He said he would explain everything now and logged off. During the 2 hour wait, my internet friend and I texted about this situation. She said that she frankly did not care what Zhenya used in the toilet, but she was worried about how he would tell us about it if his "joke" turned out to be true. I agreed with her words, but a volcano erupted inside me. In short, and as you already understood from the title of the post, it turned out to be true. Zhenya was a girl all this fcking time. I crashed.
I decided to confess to him right away what I felt for him. He apologized a lot. I, in turn, said that it was not his fault, that I would accept him as he is and apologized for my stupidity. He thanked.
Three nights have passed since then, all these nights I had nightmares. During the day, as if out of habit, I thought about him, but at one point I suddenly cut myself off and clearly said in my head "Sofia, THAT Zhenya does not exist, you stupid btch!!!!!" I do not blame him in any way, he did not tell this not because he did not trust us, but because he was afraid of condemnation. I'm not going to dump him after he's opened his soul, so what kind of friend am I? He said that he was most afraid of my reaction, because he simply did not understand what it would be. We are too alike.
I will understand and forgive. Everything except his stupidity and naivety. Everything was so obvious almost immediately, but I was under the influence of emotions. It was my first such serious crush, and even now I continue to love Zhenya and I don't know what to do. I'm hoping to get a job this summer and start saving up to go see all my internet friends. I have to hug them all, not only in my sleep. I'm sorry that the post is so long and rambling, but while I was writing all this, I felt a lot better. Please, if you had a similar experience, share it with him. You are not alone, and your memories can help others. Be kinder to people, because “You can only see things clearly with your heart. What is essential is invisible to the eye.” ― Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince.

I keep seeing many posts asking where to meet people without dating apps. I’ve always used this and it has always worked for me so I thought I’d make a post .
First off you need to date with intent. Which means you need to be very clear on exactly what you are after and the kind of person you are after.
This is important as you will end finding what/who you are after a lot faster than just the standard going to clubs or bars .
Grab a pen and write down what kind of person you are attracted to , what are their hobbies , habits , occupation etc .
For example if you are a girl , you might be attracted to outgoing men who love , fashion , coffee , maybe they enjoy hiking and building stuff or repairing things around the house .
For guys , maybe you like introverted girls , who’s a home body , likes reading , cooking and is maybe a school teacher and plays an instrument and collects antics .
The above examples are quite detailed but this level of detail is needed to paint an accurate picture . Once you have this level of details . Start thinking of all the places this person would go to and go to these places .
For the example of the guy : you can go to areas with trendy coffee shops , google where they make the best coffee in your city . Browse men fashion stores which matches the style of the person you want . Join hiking groups , go to stores for building and repair supplies. Go to manufacturing expo or conventions .
For the girl in the example I gave . Go to antic stores and flea markets, go to live music bars or concerts in your area . Volunteer at your local schools or churches . Join cooking classes or book clubs , this can even be online clubs and classes . I’ve seen chef doing zoom cooking classes where they give you a list of ingredients and wine to pair and you all do the classes via zoom .
My point is if you follow this , it’s a lot easier and more efficient thank just going to a bar and it’s very much tailored to the kind of person you are attracted to .
Hope this helps 😊

MASSIVE TRIGGER WARNING ⚠️ mention of various forms of abuse including SA, mention of suicide in some detail, mention of death
PREFACE
I understand this is the internet and I cannot expect people to have grace or mercy on me for any of this. All I can do is ask that if you’re going to give me your input, that you try and be as kind as possible. My heart is hurting and I really don’t feel I am in a place to hear that I need to entirely -drop- this therapist right now. My background of abuse and trauma will hopefully explain why that is, but I am not ready to let go. I am mostly posting this to vent, but also hoping that if anyone does have any advice that could help me even just in the short term with coping, that it will be gently shared.
BACKGROUND
I will try and keep this as short and sweet as possible but there’s a whole lot of history here. I am 27F, and I grew up in an unimaginably abusive home. Sex trafficking, severe physical, sexual, and emotional abuse from my father and my older brother (very patriarchal family), and a slew of very complicated and scary health issues including a liver disease and cancer. My family set me up to never be able to move out or live independently because they genuinely have viewed me to be their property. The severity of this can hopefully be summed up in just a few example:

• Was never allowed to even get myself a glass of water in the kitchen or learn to cook • Was not potty trained and had to rely on my mom to go to the bathroom into my teenage years • Drinking only from sippy cups until teenage years • Location monitored on my phone • Every credit card transaction / finance watched closely • Could not move away from college 

My brother was allowed and able to do all these things, but I was not. My entire life, teachers and “adults” that were supposed to catch these things did not even bat an eye. They instead placed me in remedial classes and ESL assuming that I just had a learning disability or a language barrier (which I do not). When I told teachers in the past about my abuse, it was handled extremely poorly and no authorities ever got involved. My life felt worthless; meaningless. Like I could scream from the rooftops of my school that I was being abused and no one cared.
This past January, I did the unthinkable. I left my family and got my own apartment. Friends, therapists, coworkers, everyone who remotely knew me has been pushing me to do this for years and I genuinely thought I would die in my situation. I developed severe Stockholm syndrome so a huge part of my lack of leaving was due to my own internal thought patterns. I did it through the help of my current therapist, which is my… fourth? therapist that’s attempted to help. The last ones took advantage of how naive I was and hurt me (one of them has been arrested). This therapist, however, invested everything to get me out. He really wanted to see me free. And I am forever grateful for him.
MY CURRENT THERAPIST & BACKSTORY
I started seeing this therapist early in 2022 when I was still living with my family. I became severely bedridden and could not even go to the bathroom without my mom or dad escorting me. My anxiety and panic were at an all time high. I was on a leave of absence from work, and this therapist was the only reason I had for HAVING to get out of bed and forcing myself to drive, and most days I couldn’t even do that. He was patient, compassionate, and was willing to go to great lengths to help. Though mostly irrelevant, he’s 45M. He got into school for counseling later in life so when I started seeing him, he was just an intern under the director of the practice. At the time, the director of the practice was seeing an old time friend of mine (who happened to recently become my coworker). My friend had gotten concerned about why I wasn’t showing up to work and why I was struggling so much. I didn’t want to open up to her about it because I couldn’t open up to anyone at the time. However, my friend asked the director of the place if she knew anything about me. The director broke into my therapist’s file under the guise of “he is my intern, I can look at his stuff” and then relayed all of that information to my friend. It became an entire case against the state board and I fought tooth and nail to get that director in trouble. In the end, nothing was done and in retaliation, the director fired my therapist and I had to wait until my therapist found a new job in order to see him (he was pre-graduation by just a few weeks so he couldn’t ethically talk to me until he had another practice). During the worst moments of my life, I was without my therapist (no fault of his, and he checked on me frequently), but it was really only for a few weeks. To me that was a lot since I had been going 2-3 times a week, sometimes 4 because of my situation.
THE CRYSTAL AND THE SAGE
My therapist had gone out of town briefly and came back with a crystal he got. He told me when he purchased it he knew he wanted to give it to someone. And he said that it made him think of me and he wants me to have it. He said he wants it to be a reminder that he cares and others care and that it represents my truth to hold close. Months later, he went on another trip and said he got sage that someone gave him that was super special and he wanted me to have it. He was very invested in making sure I felt like he cares and has my back. I was never into spirituality in the same way as him so I respectfully accepted his kindness but kind of scoffed at him. It became more of a joke.
HOW MY BROTHER AND MY THERAPIST STARTED TEXTING
The director of the previous practice had tried to harass me with a fake number, as well as to my therapist. She wanted to try and get us to drop the case, I guess? When I continued to get texts from fake numbers, my therapist asked me to give him the number that was blowing up my phone. It turns out, timing was absolutely terrible. My brother (who moved out of state) was the one who started harassing me. My parents/brother allowed me to go to therapy to “work on my panic attacks” but they began hating the fact that my therapist was helping me become independent. My brother was outraged and texted me anonymously to kill myself. Because I still thought at the time that it was the director of the place, I went ahead and shared the number with my therapist. And that’s how it all began.
THE VIDEO THREATS FROM MY THERAPIST
Things got out of hand over the months. My therapist felt extremely protective of me and a “savior complex” kicked in. The reasoning for this is worth noting / important. My therapist lost his sister to suicide when they were young, and he also lost his father shortly after. His sister apparently had also been assaulted and my therapist had mentioned to me before how he views me as a friend, someone to protect, like a sister. He admitted his struggle with transference and said his main and only concern was to get me to move out of my family’s house. To take a leap of faith. He was desperate to do that. He offered to help me get an apartment near him so he could help me out, he offered to babysit my dog for me (my golden retriever is my emotional support animal that my parents have used as a bargaining chip), he offered to see me in therapy 5 times a week if I just moved. I just wasn’t ready. But my brother would not relent.
My therapist still does not know that I know this, but my brother showed me some of the videos my therapist sent him. Three separate threatening videos. In them, my therapist was shirtless with a ski mask on saying he was part of the FBI and that if my brother didn’t behave himself, that he would have his people come after him. My brother said that I was threatening him and that if I didn’t get this man to stop, it would be trouble. My therapist got extremely activated and decided to take it as a challenge.
My therapist also at some points asked my brother “how to assault me” because he wanted to know what my brother did/wanted him to admit it. But if an outsider saw the texts, it would seem like my therapist was asking to participate in assaulting me. It looked HORRIBLY incriminating.
THE MOVE OUT
I got the courage one night. Drove my dog over to my therapist’s house and moved in with a friend while I apartment hunted. My therapist was incredibly proud of me and poured so much love and care into my dog. I truly felt hopeful and optimistic and I eventually applied for my own apartment and got approved. Because of severe Stockholm syndrome and lack of knowing how to do ANYTHING, I would end up visiting home (somehow, they allowed that and I did not die!)
THE ASSAULT
Long story short (I am not super comfortable going into this part), people from the temple I was sex trafficked in (linked with my family), showed up and assaulted me at gun point in a van. I told my therapist. He was extremely upset on my behalf and called the police. He told me it was essential that I get restraining orders and that I stop going over to my parents house even if I have Stockholm syndrome. He said he could no longer be patient on that because I was actively being attacked. I told him I was still too nervous to go no contact and I could tell he was frustrated with me.
WHEN MY THERAPIST SECRETLY SAT OUTSIDE MY APARTMENT*
My brother / someone from the temple decided to start things up once he figured out the person he was texting earlier was in fact my therapist. He threatened my therapist and challenged him to meet up. My brother was bluffing but my therapist took it seriously. My therapist arranged to meet him outside my apartment at 9pm that night. I had a weird gut feeling so I texted my therapist that night and asked him not to do anything stupid, but I had no idea what he had up his sleeve. Without telling me, my therapist sat outside my apartment waiting for my brother (who never showed) to meet him. Why my therapist chose to meet him RIGHT OUTSIDE my new residence was extremely irresponsible.
I went to take my dog out to the bathroom that night and my friend and I were hanging out. She noticed a dark car with someone sitting and staring with a mask on. We walked closer and it was my therapist. I yelled at him because I was so worried he would’ve gotten shot or attacked and that he would get hurt as a result of trying to fight. My therapist apologized and was so embarrassed. He awkwardly said “you weren’t supposed to know about this…” and drove off full force. We hopped in my friends car and followed him to wherever he tried to run off to. He then promised me he would leave. About 20 mins later, my friend and I decide to go out to get food and we see him sitting in another part of my apartment complex still ready to fight. I was so upset that he lied to me multiple times and that he was risking his life. What would’ve happened if he got attacked? But my therapist apologized again and said “I just need to look him in the eye” implying he was ready to kill.
THE DREAMS ABOUT MY THERAPIST’S LATE SISTER
As my therapist had told me, his sister had passed away from suicide when they were young. He admitted to have transference in a way where he viewed me in a sisterly way. For a while, I continually had dreams about his sister and it was very weird. I told him I don’t believe in a lot of things like crystals or burning sage but that these dreams felt incredibly vivid. In the dreams, her sister was assuring me that my therapist was sent in my life to be the brother I couldn’t have. That he was sent to me as a brother, and I to him as a sister.
THE HOSPITAL
Just within the span of days after he showed up to my apartment, I was hospitalized due to complications with my liver, and I reached out to my family for help. My therapist was upset with me for interacting with my family at all. My therapist even visited me in the hospital and said that I don’t need to call my family for help and that I have him and my other friends who will have my back. After I was discharged from the hospital, I asked my therapist if I could take my dog back for at least a weekend (he took my dog in while I went to the hospital in order to help me. He said he would hang onto him while I recovered and caught up on rest). So when he gave me my dog for the weekend, out of guilt, I took my dog with me to visit my family. I just felt the need to run back. My dad manipulated me a lot about missing my dog so I felt obligated.
MY THERAPIST’S FRUSTRATION
I admitted to my therapist that I had taken my dog to my parents for the weekend (after I already gave him my dog back). My therapist was so upset about it. He had put so much love and time into my dog and helping me, and then I took him back to the hands of my abusers. This is when him pulling back began. He felt like he was doing all of this extraneous stuff for me and I was just taking steps back.
THE SUICIDE METHOD
As he got over his frustration a little bit, I became very suicidal to the point where I purchased a rope and planned it out. I made him the beneficiary of my bank accounts as a thank you to him for everything. He told me he would do what he could to help me. He said I could bring my dog back to him if I just need a life break. He didn’t know I had the rope but he knew I was thinking suicide. When I went back to drop my dog off, I admitted I had a rope. I gave it to him. He realized I was genuinely going to kill myself and was so grateful I told him the truth. He told me he would be there for me to help me through it. Showed me grace and compassion and everything.
THE MAJOR PULLBACK
No warning. No indication. My therapist immediately pulled back. Hard. He told me to call him later that week (I usually have therapy 3x a week but he was out of town), and so I did as he said and called him to update him. He immediately flipped out. “Ugh, I cannot be in anything extra to your therapy space. I am going through things on my own and I need to pull back. I can’t take calls any hour of the day anymore. I can’t take your dog. You don’t even listen to me anyway. You do what you want and go to your parents. So, I don’t know what to say. I am committed to you as your therapist but that’s it. If you feel suicidal outside of that, go to a hospital and get sedated.” I was absolutely crushed and felt so awful and guilty like I did something wrong. I didn’t want to bother him. I didn’t want to lose him. He made me feel loved and cared for (platonically, as a brother) and I felt so safe with him. Until this moment. He was very hung up on the fact that I kept going home to my family despite his efforts.
After calming down he explained how he feels like he needs to step back because his emotions shouldn’t affect my therapy and that he’s doing it to help me. But it felt very selfish. He over exerted himself by showing up to my apartment and sending threatening videos when I never asked for it, all because HE wanted to. And now he pulls back because HE wants to. None of his decisions were based on what I would feel, but what would best serve him.
THE RELAPSE AND THE DREAMS
Because my therapist stepped back so hard, I relapsed and said “screw it” / went back to my parents. I still had my apartment but I backslid majorly.
During this time I was so distraught. This therapist made me feel supported. And no, I didn’t attach onto him in an unhealthy way where he became my only hope. But he did feel like the brother I wished I had, and he felt like such a deep and important part of my life and I was devastated.
I started having dreams again about his sister and I cried. I felt like I was given this gift and then it was taken away.
THE BACK AND FORTH
My therapist began telling me that he thinks I should have additional support in this season especially while he “takes a break from extraneous stuff” with me. He said when he was younger and going through things, he had two therapists.
A week later I told him I found a second therapist and he said: “ummm I don’t know. I feel protective over that. Maybe don’t get a second one. Find a support group but I don’t want you seeing another one.”
I stood my ground and said I might still find one and he said “well then make sure the other one is a woman and is closely in touch with me.”
It felt very wishy washy and he did a lot of similar things like this for a while.
But when I listened to him and decided against a second therapist, he pulled back again. He said he wouldn’t take any more texts or calls outside of session once again and made me feel like an obsessed freak when I wasn’t even really doing much at all. Or asking for anything.
VISITING MY THERAPIST’S LATE SISTER’S GRAVE
My therapist is a famous author and singesong writer. Online, it’s very easy to find his sister’s name and I did some digging and found out where her grave is located. I was feeling really awful, like I was grieving the loss myself which is so incredibly psychotic. I know. But it more so felt like I was grieving the loss of this brotherly love I once felt from my therapist. But it’s been a couple months at this point and he still refuses to take texts or calls, and is very argumentative and angry in sessions. And I just wanted to take some flowers to the grave in private, not tell him, and just accept that he can’t be what I needed him to be for me.
MY FAMILY FINDS OUT
When I went to the cemetery, the place was huge. So I had to go into the office and ask for the location of his sister’s grave. They gave me a piece of paper with her name and grave location on it and I eventually just threw it in my wallet. My dad stumbled upon my wallet while I was at home one of the days and noticed the last name and asked me if I was still seeing my therapist. They don’t like him for obvious reasons. But I admitted to my parents that I do still see my therapist and that he’s more like family than they’d ever be. They abused me. But I stood in my truth. At the end of the day I will not deny that my therapist DID help me immensely and if that means I have to be abused for the truth, I’ll do it.
MY THERAPIST INSISTS ON INFORMATION
He knew that I was hiding something. I told him my family was abusive again but I didn’t say why. He spent an entire session saying he needs to know what happened. I said no multiple times and that I didn’t want to talk about it. He used language like “you have to tell me before you leave my office” and “if you care so much about me you’ll tell me.” He even told me he was going to take my hand and promise me that he won’t react. He held it and looked me in the eye and promised he’d meet me with compassion. I refused. He then asked me if I’ve been lying to him. Deceptive. It broke me and I felt like it was just such an insult. But I stayed strong and he apologized for bothering me about it.
Last week comes around and it feels like such a hindrance. He’s continuing to be short with me and not answer my texts, not taking emergency calls, and just… is continuing to be cold. I even texted him that I was genuinely feeling suicidal and he told me he can’t help me outside of session. Period.
So then after my latest session, I told him I’d text him what happened because I was too uncomfortable to say it. I told him I visited his sister’s grave, about the dreams, everything. I said I felt really hurt at his pullback and how it felt selfish.
He responded by gaslighting me endlessly and it absolutely crushed me furthermore. He responded as follows:
“Ok crystals and dreams? I don’t believe in them. I don’t believe that was my sister. I don’t know how I feel about you visiting her grave. I am not your brother and I can’t be your brother. And yes it was a nice gesture I guess but clearly you are focusing on the wrong thing. Let’s not talk about the weeds and the details. Let’s focus on you.” And completely shut down any further conversation about it.
In the past I have insisted and begged him to process him showing up at my apartment with me because I am still shaken up. He just always says “I never should’ve gotten involved like that but we are NOT going to talk about this ever again” and has always refused to hear how I felt about it.
He went back on vacation this past weekend and refused to take my call when I needed help, refused to text me, or anything. I called off work two days in a row because I was so devastated at his anger toward me and the gaslighting. It felt so unfair. I wanted to talk to him over the weekend because I was genuinely so hurt and felt like I truly lost him. He didn’t care.
WHERE TO GO FROM HERE?
I had an appointment in person tonight. First in person one since I told him about everything. I am embarrassed and feel so guilty that I visited his sister’s grave behind his back. It makes me feel psychotic. But at least I was honest and didn’t wait until I got caught / did not gaslight him.
I have a major surgery tomorrow and he won’t help me with my dog. I’ve gone back to my parents for now until I am recovered.
I want to tell him how hurt I am but I have tried that. He never understands. I miss him. As a brother.
I ended up going to session and he asked me why I feel off in therapy. He literally said “other than me slightly having to pull back right now what have I really done?”
I don’t know if I ever can get him to see my side or my pain in this.
FINAL THOUGHTS
Again I know the majority of people will want to come at my therapist or me for doing wrong things. I know it doesn’t seem like this, but he really isn’t intentionally manipulative or gaslight-y, he’s just trying to regulate himself.
I have grace for him. And for myself. So please, please try and respond with compassion. I don’t want to lose him. But I feel like I kind of am.
What are your overall thoughts, in the most gentle way possible? Was I wrong for telling him the truth about the grave?

I have never built a pc or server before, so I don't know much about computer hardware. My brother upgraded his pc and gave me some of his old parts to do something with. I would like to turn it into a home server that can run Plex, has lots of storage to back up my Mac (iCloud Photos & files), and I'm not sure what else. Probably going to use this mostly for entertainment. I'm into visual novels & games on Steam, so is there a way to store them on the server and then play them on my Mac? They take up a bit of space on my Mac. If there is a way to do something like this, would I need to purchase a better graphics card?
Okay, so here is the list of parts I have:
- Western Digital PC SN730 nvme ssd 256GB
- ‎Nvidia Ge Force Gtx 1660 graphics card
- 16 GB ‎DDR4 SDRAM (2 sticks/4)
- No Processor
- Lenovo 400w power supply
- The case has 2 hard drive bays, 1 of which I can't open up
- I have enough case fans
- I have a decent cpu fan
- I don't have any hard drives
For what I am trying to do, what else do I need to buy? What things should I throw out and replace? I'm not sure of the extent of what you can do with a home server, so what other things should I do with it? My budget is pretty light, less than $500-$600. I'd also rather buy new parts instead of eBay, etc., but I'm pretty sure drives are cheaper second-hand.

I know this is a long story, but apparently it’s a very unique and rare story, and I’m really crossing my fingers that someone can give me a professional opinion…
I’m a 32F. On 4/22/19 I had RNY gastric bypass surgery. I’ve been very successful with my weight loss, and have never really had any serious complications to speak of. I worked my butt off and went from 256lbs to 120-125lbs and felt great. I maintained that weight loss for 3 years.
About a year ago I started having pain across my upper abdomen, usually after eating. It was mild-moderate, but bearable for the most part. After an abdominal ultrasound and a HIDA scan, my gallbladder came back as being mostly nonfunctional, and had tons of stones, so it needed to be removed.
On 4/12/23 I had my gallbladder removed, and about a day after I came home I started experiencing SEVERE burning from my stomach, up through my chest, almost to my throat. Constantly. 24/7. When I went to my doctor to explain I was still having symptoms, and that they were actually amplified by 10000 post gallbladder removal, he told me that during my surgery/endoscopy following surgery they noticed that the bile from my liver is flowing in the wrong direction. He said there was bile all over the inside of my abdomen in places it shouldn’t be (he’d used a green dye injection before surgery that made the bile light up green). He said this was very rare after gastric bypass surgery, but there was a way to fix it.
On 5/9 I had a second surgery, a small bowel resection and small bowel to small bowel anastomosis to fix my bile reflux. I ended up being hospitalized for 5 days because I had an internal bleed at my new connection site. My hemoglobin dropped down to 7. I was having bloody BMs, I was in so much pain, exhausted, had to have 3 blood platelet transfusions - the entire experience was HORRIBLE. I didn’t eat for 4 days. After several weeks of being unable to eat much at all, I dropped down to 111lbs from a very happy and comfortable 125lbs. I’m still well within my healthy BMI range being only 5’2”, but I don’t like being at this weight at all. I feel and look unhealthy.
Here comes the extra weird part. After all that… the second surgery didn’t even work. At all. As soon as I started eating again the burning feeling returned (even during the 4 days I didn’t eat, I could still kind of feel it but it wasn’t nearly as bad). My doctor said he’s never seen that in his 30 years of practicing medicine in the bariatric field. That this surgery has ALWAYS worked to correct the bile reflux issue. 100% success rate. That he could use the footage from my surgery as a case study because it’s so incredibly rare.
My doctor brought my case to a bariatric conference with other surgeons, solely focused on interesting and unique bariatric cases. The medical team at the conference came up with a theory, and they ended up being correct.
After a second HIDA scan post-gallbladder removal - it turns out that the bile is actually refluxing into my old, remnant stomach. The excluded one no longer being used post gastric bypass. He said it was a significant amount, and that this is practically unheard of. I’ve only been able to find two case studies in existence on the internet… less than 50 people in total between both. In one of the studies they removed the remnant stomach entirely (84% success rate 6+ years post op), and in the other they used a medication called Ursodiol (80% success rate).
I feel like this is an important piece of information, so I’m choosing to include it. During my gallbladder removal, my doctor fixed a small hernia and apparently there was a large piece of omentum (15 × 12 x 2 cm) partially obstructing my bowel that he also corrected and removed. The omentum was adhered to the biliopancreatic limb at the enteroenterostomy. I have a theory that this reflux issue has been happening much longer than I knew, and this piece of omentum was actually helping keep it at bay. That removing it essentially opened up the flood gates. No clue if this is a sound theory, but it’s the only one I have. My doctor couldn’t tell me why my symptoms became so much worst after my gallbladder was removed, but I read this bit in the surgical report and it struck a cord.
My doctor is currently out of town; I’m seeing him again mid-June to talk about my options. From what I remember of our conversation prior, my options will be: try Ursodiol (the side effects are scary; I’m already a very nauseous person and am really struggling with eating. This also feels like a bandaid fix to me), alternatively, reverse my gastric bypass surgery OR remove my remnant stomach.
It’s worth noting that I’ve been on Cholestryamine for about a week and a half and it’s been reducing the burning by about 25-30%, I’d say, which has been nice.
I’m so sorry for the novel. I’m reeeeally hoping there are some liver specialists and/or bariatric surgeons in this sub with knowledge and experience in this area. I guess my question to the physicians here is: if I were your daughter, which option would you recommend to me? Have any of you actually encountered this issue before?? If so, what worked for you and your patient(s)? I’m leaning toward removing my remnant stomach - only because it’s a permanent fix, and there is actually a case study suggesting it’s a pretty effective course of treatment (but the study only had 19 people in it). I can’t find a shred of evidence that shows reversing my bypass would correct this issue, but I’m obviously not a doctor.
I’m feeling pretty broken and alone with this issue. I just want to feel normal again, not feel like my abdomen/chest are on fire, eat like I was eating, maintain my weight where I was happy. I’m just… broken. Any advice, guidance or insight would be SO greatly appreciated.
Full surgical report from the 1st surgery & HIDA Scan report link in comments.

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Memory transcription subject: Professor Tevest, FTL Researcher
Date [standardized human time]: November 10, 2136
“They said 10:00 am. Do you think they’re still coming?” Virnix asked from the seat next to me.
I leaned my head against the car window. “It’s only 10:07, they’re just running a little late.”
“Maybe something happened to them. Or they forgot.”
“I messaged them. They know we’re here.”
“Then why didn’t they respond? The car drives itself, what could they be doing?”
I didn’t have an answer to that. I went back to silently wishing they would show up. We’d been waiting in car in the corner of the parking lot for over fifteen minutes. I’d honestly thought we’d be the ones late today given how long it took to get Dwlin to go to the bathroom and Kover not being able to find his data pad.
My pad buzzed. ”Sorry we’re late. We just parked and will be waiting for you out front” I read aloud.
Virnix looked to the back seat. “Everybody stick together. Stay within arm’s reach at all times. Got it?”
We got out of the car and began walking to the front. “Hold my paw Dwlin,” Virnix said, stress and worry seeping into her tone. Her eyes kept jumping around as if an arxur was going jump out from behind one of the parked cars. Was I that nervous my first day out? I grabbed her free paw and gave a reassuring squeeze.
Kover glanced over at us. “I’m not holding hands. Don’t ask.”
“Hey!” A voice yipped out between the cars. Virnix’s grip tightened at the noise, then tightened again further when a yotul jumped out between parked cars in front of us.
“Come on! They’re over here!” Sock yelled out, waving someone over. Following Socks, Kyle and another human woman I didn’t recognize appeared.
The woman smiled, stepped forward with a hand outstretched. “Hi, my name’s Catherine. Pleased to meet ya.” Virnix’s claws began to dig into my paw as she stared in terror. She looked to be on the verge of bolting.
“It’s good to meet you too,” I said grimacing over the pain in my paw. “My name’s Tevest.”
The human woman must had taken notice at my tone in my voice because she took a look at my wife and took a step back. “Sorry about that,” she said, her smile dropping. “You guys got a thing about teeth and stuff. I’m guessing the one on your left is Mrs. Tevest?”
Mrs. Tevest? “Yeah. This is my wife Virnix. Why don’t you introduce yourself Virnix.”
“H-hello. I’m Virnix,” my wife voiced with a robotic stutter.
“It’s great to meet you Virnix,” Catherine said turning her attention to Dwlin. “And what’s your name?”
“Dwlin.” The little gojid said proudly.
“Dwlin, that’s a nice name. Is that your uncle over there?”
“Uncle?” Dwlin said confused. Virnix’s paw went limp. I followed the woman’s gaze to where it landed on my son.
“The tall gojid over there.”
I burst out laughing. “That’s my son Kover!”
Human woman’s smile returned. “I guess I walked into that,” she said with a chuckle.
Virnix looked more confused than I’ve ever seen her in her life. “We’re like over twice his age, how can you not tell?” Virnix asked dumbfounded.
“Hey, I’ve never met a gojid before. The extent of my knowledge is that you guys have spikes and were gene-modded to be herbivores.”
Kyle looked up at Kover. “How old are you kid?”
“Fourteen,” he replied simply.
“Damn….”
“If you guys are done talking, can we go shopping now? I need more frozen burritos,” Socks interceded. “I’m Sokvous by the way.”
---
We walked through the sliding doors and into a brightly lit store with rows and rows of aisles. Soft music played overhead. If there was meat in the store I couldn’t see or smell it yet. I heard a crash to the side as Socks yanked carts from a receptacle.
Virnix huddled closer to me. “Tevest, I don’t like that look,” she whispered with as she pointed to the humans in the lines near the front. They had a look I was all too familiar with.
“Relax. That look doesn’t mean I’m hungry and want to eat you. It means What is a gojid doing here? Why did the gojid come to where I am. Should I talk to the gojid? Just look at what they’re doing.” Several humans in the lines were whispering to one another and others were taking pictures. “It’s not hunger, it’s interest.”
Socks handed me a cart. “You get used to it. Mostly. At least you have spikes. Last time I was here people kept trying to touch me.”
“Touch you?”
“Grab the tail. Sneak up behind you and stroke your fur. Real annoying stuff.”
Catherine led the way into the store. “So, what’s on your shopping list?” She inquired.
“Fruits and vegetables at the very least.” Virnix responded. “I liked whatever those orange tubers were called….”
“Sweet potatoes,” Kover said helpfully.
“That’s it, sweet potatoes. They weren’t half-bad after boiling.”
“How’d you season them?”
“Salt?” Virnix said confused.
Catherine looked like she just heard we ate dirt. “You just boiled them and used salt? That’s not dinner, that’s a food crime. Whatcha gotta do is to toss them in brown sugar, cinnamon, and pecans and roast those suckers. If your feeling real frisky you put a touch of ginger in them too. What else you looking for?”
“Whatever the red smushy ones were called. I think the package said tomatoes.”
“Another good choice, great in all kinds of things. Soups, casseroles, pasta, sandwiches…”
She kept going on like this. Virnix would mention something she wanted to get and the human would expound on it. Sweet potatoes, tomatoes, oranges, onions, among other fruits and vegetables were added, including a few that weren’t at the home when we arrive.
“You sure this one’s edible?”
“Wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t. You just got to slice it open. Don’t let me forget, we need to get you some spices before you leave. What else do you need?”
“Juice! I want juice!” A few humans turned to the noise my daughter was making.
My wife pointed a claw. “Dwlin, use your indoor voice.”
“But I want juice!”
“Then don’t yell and ask nicely. If you want people to listen, then speak like a sapient.”
My daughter’s demeanor softened a touch. “Can we get some juice now please?”
“Better. Do you know where the juice is Catherine?”
“Down past the refrigerated section by the meat section. I’ll show you.” Dutifully we followed woman. The meat section. Whatever you do Tevest, don’t panic. If you panic then Virnix panics, then its trouble. Just don’t make a scene… We walked down, and down the aisle and it came into view.
Behind glass encased freezers there was flesh within, packed within plastic wraps. I couldn’t tell what kind of creatures these had once been. Did I even want to know? Virnix looked like she wanted to get away from here as soon as possible. Kover loomed over one of the freezers, peering in. Sokvous walked up to a freezer, grabbed several bags and handed one to me. “You guys need to try this, it’s delicious”
I dropped the bag. That’s it, I’ve lost it. The herbivore is buying meat. I’m stuck in a nightmare. The humans corrupting us wasn’t paranoia. Protector protect me, wait, no, oh god, wh-
“You okay Tevest?” Sokvous asked. My legs swayed and I began heading to the floor. Halfway down something grabbed me by the arm. “Geez man, get a grip.”
I sat on the tile and stared at the man who had a hold of me. “M-meat?”
Sokvous let go of my arm. “It’s not meat. Read the damn package.”
I slowly sat up. Not meat? I pointed my visual translator at the bag on the floor.

Plant-based meatballs. 30 count. Now with new and improved flavor!

“What?” I said confused.
Kyle offered me a hand. “It’s plant-based meat. It means that it’s plants that are processed to taste like meat.”
“Why?” I asked, still confused.
He grabbed my paw and me to my feet. “Because sometimes people like the taste of meat, but can’t or don’t want to eat the real stuff. Reasons vary from religious, to health, to environmental. The real stuff’s better, but with the war going on and the cattle exchange it’s hard to get.”
“So why are you buying it Socks?”
“Because it tastes good,” the marsupial replied roughly. I opened my mouth, but was cut off. “And before you ask no, I do not have predator disease. The Venlil, the Zurulians, and all those other Federation stooges can shove that fucking diagnosis up their ass. It’s a goddamn flavored plant. Besides, eating plants didn’t stop the Kolshians from assassinating diplomats. Where was the predator diagnosis on Nikonous you damn quacks!”
Where’d that come from? I picked the bag off the floor and looked at it. “I’m… not quite sure I’m comfortable with eating this.”
“I’d be willing to try it,” Kover said. “I wouldn’t tell anyone. Besides, even if they do what are they going do? Banish us to Earth?”
Virnix took the bag from my hands and shoved it back into the freezer. “I think we’re good. Let’s get your juice Dwlin.” She looked down only to find an empty space beside her. “Dwlin?”
My stomach dropped. Did we lose her? A moment later I spotted her at the far side of the section by the juice.
Which was on the topmost part of the shelves.
The shelves she was in the process of climbing.
I started dashing over. Nope nope nope nope nope nope.
This was going to be a long day.
First Prev

I had a labral hip repair in Feb. 2022. It was a long recovery, but I'm so glad I did it because I am no longer in constant pain. Once in a while there's a flare-up, but it's no where near what I used to have. The bonus of my surgery was that the back pain I had for MANY years (long before hip issues) also mostly disappeared which makes me wonder if I've actual had a labral hip tear for much longer than I originally thought. I'm now at a point where I want to start exercising because I need to lose weight and get healthy again (have needed to lose weight for a while even before any hip problems). I figured I'd start with walking since I can do that for a long stretch without a problem, but does anyone have any suggestions for types of activities that won't aggravate hips? I'm so scared of re-tearing and being back in constant pain. I'll also ask my GP when I go for my annual physical (he's the one who suspected the tear and referred me to the wonderful surgeon), but I don't see him for another two months. I do not have access to a pool so swimming is out, but open to other low impact ideas. Bonus if they are things that can be done with my 3 year old son.

I bought a second hand Nitro about 4 years back and its had issues, usually being really slow (even though I have only a handful of things installed on it), using up to 100% of the CPU or Disk but these tend to indicate it needs an update.
Recently things started getting weird. A game launcher just was stuck on continuous loading and the Internet connection kept dropping even though the Internet was fine, so I restarted the laptop, I tried to load the launcher again and nothing had changed. So I went to Google, it explained to reinstall the launcher from the Microsoft store, but that also needed updating. So I clicked update and it just kept saying it was unable to with an error message. Google suggested reinstalling the Microsoft store or deleting log files (which I couldn't as they were in use even once I had closed the app). Then it turned out that Windows update wasn't able to connect to their servers, so I gave up for the night.
Tonight, I connected the laptop to the router via ethernet (thinking it may help) but the windows update still showed an error message telling me to connect to the Internet. The Microsoft store still wasn't able to download its update, but the game launcher was now fine.
So I went down the rabbit hole of trying to fix whatever was causing the window update to believe it had no Internet while using ethernet and showing Internet connection. I tried updating, reinstalling and reseting network adapters and Internet connections several different ways. Downloading lines of code to reset the Windows updater, opening command prompt and downloading root certificates. Troubleshooting the actual windows updater seemed to show the most promise, it ended up detecting an issue but not fixing it. A lot of waiting for downloads to time out, restarting the laptop every so often when told to and googling of different word configurations to see if it came up with anything new, for either that general no Internet error or error code for a specific windows update.
So after feeling I had exhausted all options I thought "well I guess I need a professional to take a look at it", I knew my laptop wouldn't be in warranty but looked into what Acer offered before going to a independent repair shop. So I'm wondering if anyone has any previous experience with buying the extended warranty packages and more specifically, if their laptops were repaired or worth the repair under those packages? Is it worth my money and effort before going independent?

MASSIVE TRIGGER WARNING ⚠️ mention of various forms of abuse including SA, mention of suicide in some detail, mention of death
PREFACE
I understand this is the internet and I cannot expect people to have grace or mercy on me for any of this. All I can do is ask that if you’re going to give me your input, that you try and be as kind as possible. My heart is hurting and I really don’t feel I am in a place to hear that I need to entirely -drop- this therapist right now. My background of abuse and trauma will hopefully explain why that is, but I am not ready to let go. I am mostly posting this to vent, but also hoping that if anyone does have any advice that could help me even just in the short term with coping, that it will be gently shared.
BACKGROUND
I will try and keep this as short and sweet as possible but there’s a whole lot of history here. I am 27F, and I grew up in an unimaginably abusive home. Sex trafficking, severe physical, sexual, and emotional abuse from my father and my older brother (very patriarchal family), and a slew of very complicated and scary health issues including a liver disease and cancer. My family set me up to never be able to move out or live independently because they genuinely have viewed me to be their property. The severity of this can hopefully be summed up in just a few example:

• Was never allowed to even get myself a glass of water in the kitchen or learn to cook • Was not potty trained and had to rely on my mom to go to the bathroom into my teenage years • Drinking only from sippy cups until teenage years • Location monitored on my phone • Every credit card transaction / finance watched closely • Could not move away from college 

My brother was allowed and able to do all these things, but I was not. My entire life, teachers and “adults” that were supposed to catch these things did not even bat an eye. They instead placed me in remedial classes and ESL assuming that I just had a learning disability or a language barrier (which I do not). When I told teachers in the past about my abuse, it was handled extremely poorly and no authorities ever got involved. My life felt worthless; meaningless. Like I could scream from the rooftops of my school that I was being abused and no one cared.
This past January, I did the unthinkable. I left my family and got my own apartment. Friends, therapists, coworkers, everyone who remotely knew me has been pushing me to do this for years and I genuinely thought I would die in my situation. I developed severe Stockholm syndrome so a huge part of my lack of leaving was due to my own internal thought patterns. I did it through the help of my current therapist, which is my… fourth? therapist that’s attempted to help. The last ones took advantage of how naive I was and hurt me (one of them has been arrested). This therapist, however, invested everything to get me out. He really wanted to see me free. And I am forever grateful for him.
MY CURRENT THERAPIST & BACKSTORY
I started seeing this therapist early in 2022 when I was still living with my family. I became severely bedridden and could not even go to the bathroom without my mom or dad escorting me. My anxiety and panic were at an all time high. I was on a leave of absence from work, and this therapist was the only reason I had for HAVING to get out of bed and forcing myself to drive, and most days I couldn’t even do that. He was patient, compassionate, and was willing to go to great lengths to help. Though mostly irrelevant, he’s 45M. He got into school for counseling later in life so when I started seeing him, he was just an intern under the director of the practice. At the time, the director of the practice was seeing an old time friend of mine (who happened to recently become my coworker). My friend had gotten concerned about why I wasn’t showing up to work and why I was struggling so much. I didn’t want to open up to her about it because I couldn’t open up to anyone at the time. However, my friend asked the director of the place if she knew anything about me. The director broke into my therapist’s file under the guise of “he is my intern, I can look at his stuff” and then relayed all of that information to my friend. It became an entire case against the state board and I fought tooth and nail to get that director in trouble. In the end, nothing was done and in retaliation, the director fired my therapist and I had to wait until my therapist found a new job in order to see him (he was pre-graduation by just a few weeks so he couldn’t ethically talk to me until he had another practice). During the worst moments of my life, I was without my therapist (no fault of his, and he checked on me frequently), but it was really only for a few weeks. To me that was a lot since I had been going 2-3 times a week, sometimes 4 because of my situation.
THE CRYSTAL AND THE SAGE
My therapist had gone out of town briefly and came back with a crystal he got. He told me when he purchased it he knew he wanted to give it to someone. And he said that it made him think of me and he wants me to have it. He said he wants it to be a reminder that he cares and others care and that it represents my truth to hold close. Months later, he went on another trip and said he got sage that someone gave him that was super special and he wanted me to have it. He was very invested in making sure I felt like he cares and has my back. I was never into spirituality in the same way as him so I respectfully accepted his kindness but kind of scoffed at him. It became more of a joke.
HOW MY BROTHER AND MY THERAPIST STARTED TEXTING
The director of the previous practice had tried to harass me with a fake number, as well as to my therapist. She wanted to try and get us to drop the case, I guess? When I continued to get texts from fake numbers, my therapist asked me to give him the number that was blowing up my phone. It turns out, timing was absolutely terrible. My brother (who moved out of state) was the one who started harassing me. My parents/brother allowed me to go to therapy to “work on my panic attacks” but they began hating the fact that my therapist was helping me become independent. My brother was outraged and texted me anonymously to kill myself. Because I still thought at the time that it was the director of the place, I went ahead and shared the number with my therapist. And that’s how it all began.
THE VIDEO THREATS FROM MY THERAPIST
Things got out of hand over the months. My therapist felt extremely protective of me and a “savior complex” kicked in. The reasoning for this is worth noting / important. My therapist lost his sister to suicide when they were young, and he also lost his father shortly after. His sister apparently had also been assaulted and my therapist had mentioned to me before how he views me as a friend, someone to protect, like a sister. He admitted his struggle with transference and said his main and only concern was to get me to move out of my family’s house. To take a leap of faith. He was desperate to do that. He offered to help me get an apartment near him so he could help me out, he offered to babysit my dog for me (my golden retriever is my emotional support animal that my parents have used as a bargaining chip), he offered to see me in therapy 5 times a week if I just moved. I just wasn’t ready. But my brother would not relent.
My therapist still does not know that I know this, but my brother showed me some of the videos my therapist sent him. Three separate threatening videos. In them, my therapist was shirtless with a ski mask on saying he was part of the FBI and that if my brother didn’t behave himself, that he would have his people come after him. My brother said that I was threatening him and that if I didn’t get this man to stop, it would be trouble. My therapist got extremely activated and decided to take it as a challenge.
My therapist also at some points asked my brother “how to assault me” because he wanted to know what my brother did/wanted him to admit it. But if an outsider saw the texts, it would seem like my therapist was asking to participate in assaulting me. It looked HORRIBLY incriminating.
THE MOVE OUT
I got the courage one night. Drove my dog over to my therapist’s house and moved in with a friend while I apartment hunted. My therapist was incredibly proud of me and poured so much love and care into my dog. I truly felt hopeful and optimistic and I eventually applied for my own apartment and got approved. Because of severe Stockholm syndrome and lack of knowing how to do ANYTHING, I would end up visiting home (somehow, they allowed that and I did not die!)
THE ASSAULT
Long story short (I am not super comfortable going into this part), people from the temple I was sex trafficked in (linked with my family), showed up and assaulted me at gun point in a van. I told my therapist. He was extremely upset on my behalf and called the police. He told me it was essential that I get restraining orders and that I stop going over to my parents house even if I have Stockholm syndrome. He said he could no longer be patient on that because I was actively being attacked. I told him I was still too nervous to go no contact and I could tell he was frustrated with me.
WHEN MY THERAPIST SECRETLY SAT OUTSIDE MY APARTMENT
My brother / someone from the temple decided to start things up once he figured out the person he was texting earlier was in fact my therapist. He threatened my therapist and challenged him to meet up. My brother was bluffing but my therapist took it seriously. My therapist arranged to meet him outside my apartment at 9pm that night. I had a weird gut feeling so I texted my therapist that night and asked him not to do anything stupid, but I had no idea what he had up his sleeve. Without telling me, my therapist sat outside my apartment waiting for my brother (who never showed) to meet him. Why my therapist chose to meet him RIGHT OUTSIDE my new residence was extremely irresponsible.
I went to take my dog out to the bathroom that night and my friend and I were hanging out. She noticed a dark car with someone sitting and staring with a mask on. We walked closer and it was my therapist. I yelled at him because I was so worried he would’ve gotten shot or attacked and that he would get hurt as a result of trying to fight. My therapist apologized and was so embarrassed. He awkwardly said “you weren’t supposed to know about this…” and drove off full force. We hopped in my friends car and followed him to wherever he tried to run off to. He then promised me he would leave. About 20 mins later, my friend and I decide to go out to get food and we see him sitting in another part of my apartment complex still ready to fight. I was so upset that he lied to me multiple times and that he was risking his life. What would’ve happened if he got attacked? But my therapist apologized again and said “I just need to look him in the eye” implying he was ready to kill.
THE DREAMS ABOUT MY THERAPIST’S LATE SISTER
As my therapist had told me, his sister had passed away from suicide when they were young. He admitted to have transference in a way where he viewed me in a sisterly way. For a while, I continually had dreams about his sister and it was very weird. I told him I don’t believe in a lot of things like crystals or burning sage but that these dreams felt incredibly vivid. In the dreams, her sister was assuring me that my therapist was sent in my life to be the brother I couldn’t have. That he was sent to me as a brother, and I to him as a sister.
THE HOSPITAL
Just within the span of days after he showed up to my apartment, I was hospitalized due to complications with my liver, and I reached out to my family for help. My therapist was upset with me for interacting with my family at all. My therapist even visited me in the hospital and said that I don’t need to call my family for help and that I have him and my other friends who will have my back. After I was discharged from the hospital, I asked my therapist if I could take my dog back for at least a weekend (he took my dog in while I went to the hospital in order to help me. He said he would hang onto him while I recovered and caught up on rest). So when he gave me my dog for the weekend, out of guilt, I took my dog with me to visit my family. I just felt the need to run back. My dad manipulated me a lot about missing my dog so I felt obligated.
MY THERAPIST’S FRUSTRATION
I admitted to my therapist that I had taken my dog to my parents for the weekend (after I already gave him my dog back). My therapist was so upset about it. He had put so much love and time into my dog and helping me, and then I took him back to the hands of my abusers. This is when him pulling back began. He felt like he was doing all of this extraneous stuff for me and I was just taking steps back.
THE SUICIDE METHOD
As he got over his frustration a little bit, I became very suicidal to the point where I purchased a rope and planned it out. I made him the beneficiary of my bank accounts as a thank you to him for everything. He told me he would do what he could to help me. He said I could bring my dog back to him if I just need a life break. He didn’t know I had the rope but he knew I was thinking suicide. When I went back to drop my dog off, I admitted I had a rope. I gave it to him. He realized I was genuinely going to kill myself and was so grateful I told him the truth. He told me he would be there for me to help me through it. Showed me grace and compassion and everything.
THE MAJOR PULLBACK
No warning. No indication. My therapist immediately pulled back. Hard. He told me to call him later that week (I usually have therapy 3x a week but he was out of town), and so I did as he said and called him to update him. He immediately flipped out. “Ugh, I cannot be in anything extra to your therapy space. I am going through things on my own and I need to pull back. I can’t take calls any hour of the day anymore. I can’t take your dog. You don’t even listen to me anyway. You do what you want and go to your parents. So, I don’t know what to say. I am committed to you as your therapist but that’s it. If you feel suicidal outside of that, go to a hospital and get sedated.” I was absolutely crushed and felt so awful and guilty like I did something wrong. I didn’t want to bother him. I didn’t want to lose him. He made me feel loved and cared for (platonically, as a brother) and I felt so safe with him. Until this moment. He was very hung up on the fact that I kept going home to my family despite his efforts.
After calming down he explained how he feels like he needs to step back because his emotions shouldn’t affect my therapy and that he’s doing it to help me. But it felt very selfish. He over exerted himself by showing up to my apartment and sending threatening videos when I never asked for it, all because HE wanted to. And now he pulls back because HE wants to. None of his decisions were based on what I would feel, but what would best serve him.
THE RELAPSE AND THE DREAMS
Because my therapist stepped back so hard, I relapsed and said “screw it” / went back to my parents. I still had my apartment but I backslid majorly.
During this time I was so distraught. This therapist made me feel supported. And no, I didn’t attach onto him in an unhealthy way where he became my only hope. But he did feel like the brother I wished I had, and he felt like such a deep and important part of my life and I was devastated.
I started having dreams again about his sister and I cried. I felt like I was given this gift and then it was taken away.
THE BACK AND FORTH
My therapist began telling me that he thinks I should have additional support in this season especially while he “takes a break from extraneous stuff” with me. He said when he was younger and going through things, he had two therapists.
A week later I told him I found a second therapist and he said: “ummm I don’t know. I feel protective over that. Maybe don’t get a second one. Find a support group but I don’t want you seeing another one.”
I stood my ground and said I might still find one and he said “well then make sure the other one is a woman and is closely in touch with me.”
It felt very wishy washy and he did a lot of similar things like this for a while.
But when I listened to him and decided against a second therapist, he pulled back again. He said he wouldn’t take any more texts or calls outside of session once again and made me feel like an obsessed freak when I wasn’t even really doing much at all. Or asking for anything.
VISITING MY THERAPIST’S LATE SISTER’S GRAVE
My therapist is a famous author and singesong writer. Online, it’s very easy to find his sister’s name and I did some digging and found out where her grave is located. I was feeling really awful, like I was grieving the loss myself which is so incredibly psychotic. I know. But it more so felt like I was grieving the loss of this brotherly love I once felt from my therapist. But it’s been a couple months at this point and he still refuses to take texts or calls, and is very argumentative and angry in sessions. And I just wanted to take some flowers to the grave in private, not tell him, and just accept that he can’t be what I needed him to be for me.
MY FAMILY FINDS OUT
When I went to the cemetery, the place was huge. So I had to go into the office and ask for the location of his sister’s grave. They gave me a piece of paper with her name and grave location on it and I eventually just threw it in my wallet. My dad stumbled upon my wallet while I was at home one of the days and noticed the last name and asked me if I was still seeing my therapist. They don’t like him for obvious reasons. But I admitted to my parents that I do still see my therapist and that he’s more like family than they’d ever be. They abused me. But I stood in my truth. At the end of the day I will not deny that my therapist DID help me immensely and if that means I have to be abused for the truth, I’ll do it.
MY THERAPIST INSISTS ON INFORMATION
He knew that I was hiding something. I told him my family was abusive again but I didn’t say why. He spent an entire session saying he needs to know what happened. I said no multiple times and that I didn’t want to talk about it. He used language like “you have to tell me before you leave my office” and “if you care so much about me you’ll tell me.” He even told me he was going to take my hand and promise me that he won’t react. He held it and looked me in the eye and promised he’d meet me with compassion. I refused. He then asked me if I’ve been lying to him. Deceptive. It broke me and I felt like it was just such an insult. But I stayed strong and he apologized for bothering me about it.
Last week comes around and it feels like such a hindrance. He’s continuing to be short with me and not answer my texts, not taking emergency calls, and just… is continuing to be cold. I even texted him that I was genuinely feeling suicidal and he told me he can’t help me outside of session. Period.
So then after my latest session, I told him I’d text him what happened because I was too uncomfortable to say it. I told him I visited his sister’s grave, about the dreams, everything. I said I felt really hurt at his pullback and how it felt selfish.
He responded by gaslighting me endlessly and it absolutely crushed me furthermore. He responded as follows:
“Ok crystals and dreams? I don’t believe in them. I don’t believe that was my sister. I don’t know how I feel about you visiting her grave. I am not your brother and I can’t be your brother. And yes it was a nice gesture I guess but clearly you are focusing on the wrong thing. Let’s not talk about the weeds and the details. Let’s focus on you.” And completely shut down any further conversation about it.
In the past I have insisted and begged him to process him showing up at my apartment with me because I am still shaken up. He just always says “I never should’ve gotten involved like that but we are NOT going to talk about this ever again” and has always refused to hear how I felt about it.
He went back on vacation this past weekend and refused to take my call when I needed help, refused to text me, or anything. I called off work two days in a row because I was so devastated at his anger toward me and the gaslighting. It felt so unfair. I wanted to talk to him over the weekend because I was genuinely so hurt and felt like I truly lost him. He didn’t care.
WHERE TO GO FROM HERE?
I had an appointment in person tonight. First in person one since I told him about everything. I am embarrassed and feel so guilty that I visited his sister’s grave behind his back. It makes me feel psychotic. But at least I was honest and didn’t wait until I got caught / did not gaslight him.
I have a major surgery tomorrow and he won’t help me with my dog. I’ve gone back to my parents for now until I am recovered.
I want to tell him how hurt I am but I have tried that. He never understands. I miss him. As a brother.
I ended up going to session and he asked me why I feel off in therapy. He literally said “other than me slightly having to pull back right now what have I really done?”
I don’t know if I ever can get him to see my side or my pain in this.
FINAL THOUGHTS
Again I know the majority of people will want to come at my therapist or me for doing wrong things. I know it doesn’t seem like this, but he really isn’t intentionally manipulative or gaslight-y, he’s just trying to regulate himself.
I have grace for him. And for myself. So please, please try and respond with compassion. I don’t want to lose him. But I feel like I kind of am.
What are your overall thoughts, in the most gentle way possible? Was I wrong for telling him the truth about the grave?

Chapter 18

Another tightly interwoven chapter this time around, with Erikson's pacing and plate-juggling kicking into overdrive. I'll slightly disentangle them for summary/observation pacing and coherency, but as always, the effect is wonderful in narrative prose form. We finally get a reunion between the Captain and the Bridgeburners, some major revelations regarding the background machinations of the former 2nd, and the Tyrant is awakened. Additionally, this chapter had a few loose ends (hopefully) click for me, as well as provide several "file for later" moments. So without further ado...

Epigraph

Another excerpt of The Conspiracy and continues the tradition of excerpts of ostensibly the same work sharing nothing of their formatting in common. It also continues the tradition of Blind Gallan ruining my life by being by far the most cryptic author quoted. There is a reference to an "eight-limbed Paralt-" so whom or whatever that is is likely the same as the spider mentioned in the previous Conspiracy Epigraph. It also helps that they're/it's explicitly referred to as a spider, lol. But to my recollection I have no knowledge of who or what a Paralt is, but am on high alert for the term moving forward. Most interesting is that it "dives home Power's//gentle balance" The capitalization of Power seems significant, but again IDK what to make of it.

The Chapter Itself -

- begins with Sergeant Whiskeyjack on edge, awaiting the upcoming fights, increasingly aware of the mounting complications and still wrestling with his forced ambivalence. The other Bridgeburners are preparing as well, Fiddler and Hedge inspecting and tweaking an arbalest, Quick Ben attempting and failing to scry (the presumably dead) Sorry, and Kalam doing everything in his power to accelerate the healing process. The ex-Claw is preparing for one last ditch effort to draw out and contact the cities assassins, but it's a long shot. To do so, he will enter the same Inn as before. If this doesn't pan out, they'll default back to plan A with the intersections. Given the situation, Whiskeyjack is as desperately callous as ever, and Fiddler calls him out on this. While encouraged, WJ does not regain his optimism on a dime. He sees Kalam out, and orders the others to get back to work; not without some good humor.
Coll, meanwhile, is getting worse by the second, his leg swelling and seeping blood. Considering what we learn later regarding the severity of his injury, it's a wonder Coll manages to endure as long as he did. The former lord and Captain received some small measure of help, but far, far less than Coll needs. As they approach Worry Gate Coll informs Paran of the need to reach the Phoenix Inn. When they reach the gate itself, Coll has gone comatose, and Paran rejects their offer of a surgeon, trusting Coll's request. One of the guards recognizes Coll, despite the city's records insisting he's dead, and is thus able to order a cart for the dying man. We don't get any indication of who this guard is, other than the fact that he's one of Coll's former guards.* Getting Coll onto the cart, he notices a flash of movement along a distant, square platform. In a moment, the movement subsides, and Paran moves on. They quickly rush to the Inn, getting observed by Irilta on the way in. Paran then sends for a medic and sits down to eat. Upstairs, Meese, guarding a sleeping Crokus and Apsalar, is informed of the development. Irilta notes Paran's good looks and abnormally good Daru, but can't make much sense of the man. The two converse about things getting tense, even for the Eel, and oddly, complain about catching glimpses of individuals within their periphery. I'll get back to that note in a moment.
* I'd entertained the idea that this was Circle Breaker, helping even after his duties were technically done. The gate is incredibly close to Despot's Barbican, per the map of Darujhistan, so it's not inconceivable that the gate is one of the last stations along his rounds. Additionally, if Kruppe is the Eel, it would fit that he'd recruit from Coll's staff. So while we, again, get no indication either way, I'd like to think so. The biggest point against this, however, is CB's history as a privateer, so there's likely a narrow window wherein that'd even be possible.
The flash of movement Paran observed was the clash between Rallick Nom and Ocelot. Rallick had climbed up the back (or depending how you look at it, the front) way, draining most of his strength to even approach the Clan leader. This drain winds up being a critical weakness in the upcoming fight. The sorcery of Ocelot and the exhaustion of RN manage to open a window for the Clan leader to retaliate. Fortunately, the powder Baruk gave still works, and the conjured bolt dissipates on contact. The two knife fight, quickly adapting to one another's counter strategies, and each receiving fatal wounds. Even with all of his magics, and RN's weakened state, Ocelot losses, or perhaps the fight ends in a draw with him succumbing first. As RN fades out, the blood spilled in the temple once again invigorates K'Rul. Between the Elder god's attention and the now proven potency of the "changes you" powder, there is some hope for RN's survival, but it is unlikely to be pretty.
Speculation Time: Could it be possible that the battle K'Rul is preparing for is against the Jaghut Tyrant? Is Oppon steering the nearly-impotent elder god towards the Tyrant? While that sounds like a fantasticaly dumb idea, if Rake, the Cabal, and K'Rul were to come out swinging, none of the three parties could come out seriously weakened, rendering Laseen's three-birds-one-stone strategy worthless. Or worse yet, the Tyrant subsumes K'Rul, someone he remembers as immensely powerful, but is suck with a weak thrall and one with cultivated weaknesses and exploits. One produced as a "back door" of sorts to get at the monster. I'll admit, this is likely my least grounded guess yet, mostly because it's pure motive speculation, but at the very least, I feel good guessing K'Rul is on a collision course with the Tyrant.
Meanwhile, Serrat got jumped, preventing her interfering with the Coin Bearrer's escape. We don't learn who did so, only that it was unlikely to be a god and especially unlikely to be Oppon. I'll just shelve this for now, but find it interesting that, in the chapter, it's revealed immediately after blood is spilt within the temple.
Paran sits eating and drinking in the Phoenix Inn, contemplating his options. He suspects his luck has turned, as foretold by Anomander Rake, but is unsure of what to do with that information. He notices a chance spill of beer dripping into a crack in the counter, and wedges Chance within it, resolving to destroy the blade. He fears that despite being freed from Oppon, Chance is a sufficent conduit to the Twins that they're continuing to shape him, destroying and alienating those he loves. Live a life the gods don't notice. Just as he reaches for the sword, Kalam enters the room. He catches a glimpse of of the Captain, and intercedes before the blade can be destroyed. He somehow managed to peice together what it was Paran intended to do, speaking to his experience. I'm not quite certain how he managed it, but I can speculate. One such clue was a series of sensations being observed, "four times in quick succession." Either it was repeated glances from Oppon, or four individuals. If I had to guess, its the Twins, along with Meese and Iralta, still watching the street from the attic. How he picked up on two of them being gods, (or one composite god?) I still don't know.
Paran, once he recognizes the corporal, demands he fetch Mallet. He then moves upstairs, with the surgeon the Inn retrieved being unable to save Coll. For whatever reason, I found the interaction between the surgeon and the Captain particularly affective. "Why, nothing, sir. I failed." Says so much in so little time, particularly when we find out how poor of a physician he is. In a story with dozens of hypercompetent characters, seeing someone profess their mediocrity stands way out. Ganoes then rests by Colls bed, practically willing the man to hang on for a few more minutes.
Eventually, Whiskeyjack, Kalam, and Mallet barge in. Coll is so far gone even the healler breifly mistakes him for a corpse, then shoos them into a distant corner. They debrief each other on their goings on, and asses how dire things are. After getting Paran's version of events, Whiskeyjack uses a K'chain Che'Malle relic to page High Fist Dujek Onearm. Dujek provides an update for the Bridgeburners (and the audience) regarding the goings on in Pale. Tayscheren is practically self destructing trying to catch up with the plot, Hairlock apparently killed someone in Nathilog (for reasons or lack thereof I cannot even begin to speculate) and Laseen is growing more intense in her attempts to undermine Dujek. He'll likely be moved to Seven Cities to put down the brewing rebellion mentioned earlier. It's to late, however, as the situation on Genebakis has deteriorated so far that anything could set off what little remains of the 2nd, likely the disbanding of the Bridgeburners. Whiskeyjack vouches for Paran, and we get some updates on Toc and another hint that Dujek and his father were close. It seems to be accepted that he died from Hairlock's attack. I'll hold my reservations for meta reasons, but I really don't have any method or explanation to anticipate his survival.
It is accepted that no one present could accept the continued authority of Laseen, and while Dujek hints at some potential openings, things aren't looking good for defection either. The Crimson Guard continue to make headway, the formerly free cities are on the verge of revolt, and something is eroding the Moranth alliance. What's worse, the Pannion Seer* is some big looming threat, preparing to make moves of their own. The conversation ends, and while I didn't bring it up, it is noteworthy that GP chose not to mention Silverfox. Paran defers command of the BBs to WJ, experience superseding rank via necessity.
*Who's been mentioned maybe twice, if we don't count the map. Like I literally keep forgetting this guy exists.
Kalam asks Whiskeyjack what had changed the High Fist's mind on revolt, and WJ points out that it was obvious someone intends to torch the Genebakis campaign to do away with the remainder of the Old Guard. This doesn't quite jive with Laseen's current needs for certain members of the OG, so I'm curious as to who. WJ convinces Paran that Lorn needs to survive at the very least long enough to draw out the Jaghut Tyrant and waives away the Captain's concerns regarding their use of explosives in a gas powered city. (On a review, Paran doesn't even know that much, and I can see why the Sergeant would like to keep him in the dark) Paran leaves to retreive Chance once he learns Coll is safe, and refrains from updating the BBs regarding Sorry.
We end the chapter with a brief update in the Barrow. Tool explains to Lorn that she needs to find what's called a Finnest, efectivly a "self contained Warren" because that's a thing that makes sence. I'm growing increasingly sympathetic to the template model of Warrens. Any Warren built like Omose Phellack is Omtose Phellack. She finds it, in the form of an acorn, betraying once again the Jaghut's pacifism. Tool admits that they had to be goaded into warfare and self destruction. They quickly leave as the Tyrant stirs.
And there we go, one more chapter and we're likely in the climax proper. No where to go but further into the tightening mess, waiting eagerly to see how it all unfolds...

I’m writing this in the present year, but this isn’t my time. I’m from a dark and terrible future, but I’ve been given the chance to write this warning to you. I’m hoping it will help you save survive what’s coming. First a little about me, I’m from the south born and raised. Due to some complicated family drama I ended up the twenty-four year old guardian of my younger sister Teri who was fourteen in 2033, right before…well I’ll get to that soon enough. But either way, the two of us lived in a small house on the outskirts of a tiny town off the beaten path. I worked hard back then to take care of my sister while she focused on her school. It was an OK life if rough at times. We couldn’t have known what was coming no one could. They were coming.
​
I know it sounds unbelievable, but it happened or will happen I should say. Aliens invaded every corner of the planet and world war three began overnight. Of course, it didn’t go well for us humans. In the space of about a month, the narrative of, “We’ll send these aliens back from where they came from,” collapsed and humanity ended up in a losing running battle as the aliens’ robot armies overran city after city, country after country. One morning, a couple of weeks into it my sister and I were eating at the kitchen table. The schools had been closed even though the battles were going down on the other side of the state. We both saw the news on our screens, but I tried telling my little sister everything was going to be OK, although even back then I didn’t believe it. The planet was divided into free land and occupied zones the latter run by the aliens. No one knew what went on in the zones since no reports or news got out of them, but even then I knew it couldn’t be anything good. I had no idea how right I was, but I would find out.
​
Our family homestead ended up behind enemy lines. I decided we’d hunker down and see how things went. I don’t know what I thought was going to happen no one was going to save us at least not yet. Unfortunately, as our supplies dwindled and the fighting got closer I told my sister we needed to make a run for it. We didn’t make it. After being captured by some drone scouts while trekking through the wilderness we ended up in an empty field outside of a burning city in a mob of thousands of people. The aliens divided us humans up into groups and then loaded those groups into trucks. A drone pulled my sister away from me. I started a scene to keep her with me, but all I had to show for it was a mark on my cheek.
​
Next I ended up in the back of a windowless truck. Light peeked in through the canvas at the back allowing us ragged prisoners to look at each other, but no one dared speak a word. The brakes squealed, some people fell out of their seats from the force. The tension in the back thickened until the gray canvas parted revealing the front of an elongated beige alien head its beady red eyes examining us. He swept aside the canvas cover and several drones were around him. The alien spoke in a series of harsh snarls and growls, which I later found out amounted to their language. The wild swings and gestures with his long skeletal arms gave us the message to get out as soon as possible. This alien was freakishly tall at least nine feet about average for their species. He had beige colored skin and a freakishly long head with sunken red eyes and big teeth jutting out of its mouth. I hopped out and joined the group forming in the grass on the side of the road. Another guy hesitated at the sight of the drop. The alien grabbed his arm and yanked him off. The man landed with a thud and then floundered in the dirt as the thing screeched at him. The drones hovered around my group. One of them said to us in a deep voice, “The meat will finish the journey on foot.”
​
The skies above were gray as we trudged towards our destination off in the distance. Chain link fences hanging on wooden poles surrounding drab metal buildings. This was one of dozens of the aliens’ camps spread across the planet. We passed another truck in front of the one we got here in. Smoke bellowed out from under the hood as robots climbed all over it. Closer to the gate some commotion erupted. One guy made a break for it. There was a huge field to the right and at the end of it a forest. There was no way he was going to make it on foot. “Halt meat! Halt!” a drone said holding up a metal hand. Our group waited to see if the man would get his freedom. One of the aliens screeched and stepped away from the caravan. The man raced across the wide field. The alien raised its weapon. One of his friends colored a pale shade of white got behind him and watched from over his shoulder. The runner closed in on the tree line. The gun fired. He dropped in the mud a few feet from his destination. The alien lifted its gun in triumph. His pale friend put a hand on his shoulder and opened his mouth into what I guess was a smile. We got moving again. I passed through the gates into the yard as eyes from the watch towers bore down on me and my fellow prisoners. There was no tour we went straight into the building in front of us. The smell hit me first, blood and other fluids hung in the air as a permanent musk that burned my nose and eyes. The screams of humans and the thumping of heavy machinery in the distant parts of the building mixed together and assaulted my ears. I didn’t see anything that day. The drones herded us into an enclosed area completely walled off and lit with the same low red lighting as the rest of the place. In the middle of room were pens made of sharp wire reaching up towards the ceiling. Ten or so of us squeezed into one pen and the doors closed behind us and were tied off with heavy chains. For weeks, although it felt like months (it was hard to keep track) most of my time was spent there. My days consisted of waking up surrounded by ten random people, being escorted through the maze of hallways to the feeding area, and ending up back where we started. Sometimes the same pen sometimes a different one and usually with a new group of faces. The aliens feed as blue slop, which tasted bad and I would later learn had a very undesirable ingredient.
​
For a month this was my life until the big night.
​
I sat on the cold floor with a sea of legs around me (it was my turn to sit) and then the heavy doors at the front of the room creaked slowly. The aliens didn’t bother us at night one of our few comforts so thoughts of fear and worry erupted in my mind. Clamoring traveled my way from the pens closer to the door. I pushed my way to the wires so I could face the hallway. Figures in the dark moved around the cages. A bearded man in fatigues holding a rifle approached, “Keep it down, we’re here to bust you out,” he said in a harsh whisper. Another man came over with huge bolt cutters. The chain clasped around the door fell with a metallic thud. I went with the flow as we all spilled out into the area around the cages. Our rescuers were part of a resistance group and one of them ordered us to stay put. No one argued. Some of the resistance members went to work on the other locks while others remained in the growing crowd of escapees. Among these armed saviors I spotted a familiar face one I never thought I’d see again. “Kyle!” I said wading through the crowd toward the tall muscular man armed to the teeth. He wore the same discount vigilante outfit like when I first met him the longest month before. I should have mentioned this earlier, but about a month before the aliens arrived, this guy Lew Kyle saved me and my sister from being mugged in a parking lot. He said he was an intergalactic vigilante or something. I thought he was crazy. Back then, I didn’t think aliens existed. Boy was I wrong. In my defense Kyle passed as human if an extremely athletic one. He glared at me with squinted eyes, but then they widened with recognition, “Oh hey dork, good to see you. I thought you’d be dead by now.” "Wait, why would I be dead?” I said. “Well you know, between the global war, Mad Max savages, and being put on the alien’s menu, it was a distinct possibility.”
​
“There are Mad Max savages?” “Not anymore,” he said tapping his massive gun. “I thought you said you were leaving the planet?” “I was until the aliens made getting off a bit of a mess so I fell in with these guys. They’re not the best soldiers, but don’t worry stick close to me and I’ll get you out alive.” He shoved me aside and fired into the rafters. Bullets clanged as they ricocheted off metal. A second later the limp mechanical body of a drone hung over the railing of a catwalk above us. Several of my fellow prisoners got off the ground removing their hands from their ears, while other remained crouched. A resistance member glared at the man holding the machine gun. “Think they heard that?” Kyle said. Alarms blared and the lights came on. “Well,” Kyle said while pulling something out of his vest, “Since our covers’ blown might us well do this.” “What’s that?” I asked. “You’ll see, but first let’s get out of here.”
​
The group of soldiers led us out of the holding room and into the hall. I stuck close to the mighty Kyle confident he’d keep his word. Halfway on our trip the walls shook as a huge explosion roared in the distance in the direction of the front gate. “What was that?” I said resuming my pace. Kyle smiled, “Nothing, I just rammed a truck loaded with explosives through the front door.” The group turned down a hall I hadn’t visited before. There were two doors at the end. “Get ready to run,” Kyle said. Resistance members shoved the gates open. Prisoners flowed out the narrow exit and then scattered. I was in the middle of the crowd, but even in the dim moonlight one quick glance let me know we had come out the side exit meaning the vast field the unfortunate runner tried to cross the day I arrived lay between all of us and the fence along the woods. A floodlight light pierced the darkness and lit up a gaggle of ragged people running across the field of dead grass. I traced the searching beam to one of the guard towers. More spotlights lit up the field coming from all sides of us. The dozen or more spotlights lit up the hundreds of human sweeping the field. Some guy tumbled beside me and I saw he had a weird dart sticking out of his back. He contorted on the ground as everyone ran around him. No one had time to help the wounded. My trigger happy friend halted and I followed his lead. He fired in the direction of a building to our left. Aliens, drones, and spotlights congregated on its roof. His gunfire added to the deafening chaos and more resistance fighters joined the chorus of gunfire. Bullets whizzed by, hundreds of voices screamed, alarms wailed, and electro darts flew through the night sky in blue streaks.
​
“Keep going! I’m right behind you!” He shouted at the top of his lungs his gun going off the whole time. I raced to catch up with the front of the group. I was still a good way from the fence by the woods, but I saw soldiers milled around a hole in the fence through which my fellow captives streamed through. They worked under a spotlight until it vanished probably hit by a bullet. Either way, I had gotten a quick glance of the way to freedom. Though, it wouldn’t be my way. Bullets ripped through the crowd of people to my right. Dirt kicked up, people dropped and either flailed on the ground screaming or else lay still. Resistance soldiers rushed past me. A few seconds later the gunfire intensified and then died. I spared a glanced in their direction. One of the roaming lights passed over a pile of mangled bodies. “Kyle! If we don’t take out that technical we’re blown!” A man said to the vigilante or at least that’s what he told me. I was going the opposite direction when Kyle got his mission. I didn’t get much further though. I felt a sharp pain in my back like someone stabbed me with a giant needle. I tumbled as electricity flowed through my entire body. My muscles wouldn’t obey me so I was left on the ground as legs stomped past me. I couldn’t see well from the angle I landed in, but I could hear just fine. “Hounds! The Hounds!” Someone shouted. I rolled over with a struggle and something drew my attention. I craned my neck and saw the huge figure of Kyle a short distance away. Two soldiers had their arms wrapped around him. They were practically pulling him off the battlefield. “I’ll come back for you! I promise!”
​
He left my limited field of vision and soon the steady stream of running legs dwindled and then ended. One of the hounds followed them with all eight of its legs thundering along the ground. Its body was coated in silver fur and it was the size of a small elephant. A wave of drones and aliens followed the beast. They surged across the field of trampled grass to continue the pursuit into the woods. I wouldn’t see it any of it; my part in the night’s events was over. Except for one last thing…
One of the aliens halted next to me. He towered over me more than usual and we shared glances. He carried a weird baton in one hand with blue sparks flying off it. The thing jabbed me in the stomach as I lay there helpless. I cried out, but he responded by driving the weapon deeper into my flesh. I stayed there on the ground starring at the grinning face of the alien lit up by the blue light of the prod.
​
This is getting long. I’ll continue in another post, but for now watch the skies.

Transmission
by Brian Martinez
Let me start my story by telling you something about me, the most important thing, in fact: I find things, and I fix them. That’s who I am. If you don’t know that, you don’t know me.
I’m a second-generation auto mechanic, born-and-bred. I’ve been repairing cars since before Ford Pintos were blowing up, when cars were made of steel and Route 66 wasn’t just something for the cartoons. These days I’m fortunate enough to own a shop downtown between two of those chain coffee places. It’s small, sure, but it has a reputation for saving cars so far-gone no one else will even touch ‘em. So if you live in the area, and you’ve ever been stuck with the sourest of lemons, or maybe your kid drove your minivan into the pool, we just might have crossed paths, you and I.
That reputation is what led to me getting a phone call from a guy I’d never met, saying he had something that might interest me. His name was Burt and he’d apparently just purchased a piece of property that sat unowned for the better part of twenty years. I knew of the area he was talking about. It’s out in the hills, where there isn’t much to look at. Most of the land there went to weed years ago; acres and acres of old woods and burnt-down barns just waiting for nobody in particular to see the value in them. And, well, it seems Burt was that nobody in particular.
I honestly didn’t know what Burt’s purchase had to do with me, and told him just that, figuring he must have had the wrong number. But the next words out of his mouth told me he knew exactly who he was talking to.
Apparently when old Burt started walking around his new property, digging around in the dirt, so to speak, he made an interesting discovery. So interesting, in fact, that it got me to grab my keys, hop in my truck, and drive up into the hills without so much as a pause to wash my hands.
Some things, you see, don’t wait for a man to look presentable.
As I drove up into the hills to meet Burt, I started to think about my father and the drives he used to take me on. He liked to get a feel for whichever car he was working on, and those drives, they always ended with a detour into the hills. ‘Nothing tests a vehicle like elevation,’ he used to say, and I have to admit, I still agree with that statement. All those long inclines, sharp turns and fast descents- not to mention the occasional slam on the brakes- really put a car through its paces.
Dad knew a thing or two about cars, even if he knew nothing about how to raise a family.
Other than maybe a slight fear of commitment, the main thing I got from my father was a passion for restoring old cars in my spare time. It’s a hobby of mine, and I do it in the garage at my house. I’m especially a sucker for rare cars, and the rarer the better. That little hobby of mine, more so than my day business, was why I ended up driving out to the middle of nowhere with dirty hands and a head full of ideas.
The road up was just as long and winding as I remembered. I almost missed the entrance for the property, a hidden driveway marked with little more than a broken mailbox and a rotting signpost. The private road got smaller and smaller by the minute until I swore the trees were going to swallow me whole and spit the bones back out.
When I finally reached what could pass for a clearing, a guy with a face like a junkyard dog was waiting for me next to the newest, cleanest Ford pick-up I’d seen outside of a dealership. He introduced himself to me as Eddie, an associate of old Burt. I told him I’d been expecting to meet Burt himself, but Eddie explained that Burt didn’t like to meet new people, and rarely came out in the cold weather. It was a bit raw, I had to admit, so I dropped the whole thing and let Eddie get down to the business at hand.
We left our cars behind and Eddie led me into the woods, where the walking was slow-going on account of the overgrowth of vines and dead branches. I’m not one to spook easily, but the more we walked the creepier those woods got, until I was fairly sure Eddie was going to use that French Mastiff face of his to tear my throat out. But just when I was thinking about turning back and saying screw it to the whole thing, I caught sight of what we’d come for.
The very first car I saw was a white, 1974 Pontiac Trans-Am. It was missing its door and tires, and it was buried under a layer of dead vines, but the body shape was unmistakable. Under the rust I could even see what was left of the telltale Firebird emblazoned across its hood in blue.
I couldn’t believe a car like that was just sitting out in the middle of the woods, waiting for anyone to come along and find it. As I got closer, though, I saw just how bad the condition of the car was. The insides were rotted out from rain and mold, and the floor was so eaten up by rust it was ready to fall out.
Before my brain could process the loss of such a beautiful machine, I caught sight of another car. This one was a Datsun 210 with a tree growing right through the hole where its trunk used to be. Wet leaves and newspaper filled the back seat, and the dashboard was an abandoned nest that crawled with leggy insects.
Old Burt hadn’t been pulling my leg: those woods were a graveyard for abandoned cars. From what I could tell, about three acres of woods were absolutely littered with the corpses of old autos. Some were in pieces, most were covered in dead leaves and rust and all the other things that happen when anything is left outside for years and years, but they were there. The sight of so many classic cars in one place, virtually unknown to anyone, both excited and saddened me.
For close to an hour I walked around random piles of tires and glass to stare at rusted-out Range Rovers and Jeeps with their headlights hanging out like popped eyeballs. Finally, like I’d woken up from a spell, I asked Eddie what Burt expected from me. And that’s when he told me the strangest, most interesting offer he could have told me in that moment.
He said if I could make every, single one of those cars disappear in three day’s time, at no cost to old Burt, I could keep them.
The words nearly knocked me off my feet. I’d have to call in every favor to every salvage yard and tow truck operator I knew, but it was possible. Still, nearly all of the cars I’d seen were beyond repair, even for a guy like me. At most I saw some parts that could be salvaged. Maybe a few of the newer, less damaged ones could be saved. I knew a few guys in my circle who might be interested, and I figured if I played my cards right I could make a few bucks out of the deal to boot- or at least land a good trade or two. Still, there weren’t any cars that I was interested in for myself.
Until, at the edge of the property, tucked away in a spot I’d nearly overlooked, I saw it. It was as if I’d been drawn there. Like I was meant to find it.
The car was familiar-looking, yet like nothing I’d ever seen. Cross a Chevelle Malibu Classic SE with the modern retro feel of the ‘97 Plymouth Prowler, add the large rear spoiler and flared wheel arches of a ‘99 Nissan Skyline GT-R, and you still won’t come close. It looked like something one of the big three manufacturers had made and yet I’d never seen or heard of its like ever before. It had no logos, no hood ornament, no identification of any kind. I practically ran around to the back of it to look for a name, a logo, something to identify it, tripping over hidden rocks and broken glass to do it.
But there was nothing. Nothing to betray the make and mark of the strange car in front of me. I even asked Eddie if he knew what it was. He only shrugged, clearly wanting to wrap up our little outdoor meeting. I half-heartedly agreed. It was later than I’d realized. Between the dwindling sun and the discovery I’d made, I’d started to get a chill I couldn’t shake. I had a bad tooth I’d been neglecting, and even that was starting to hurt from the cold.
So I agreed to Burt’s deal. I shook Eddie’s hand on it and got out of there, giving one last glance at the strange car in the woods on the way out.
The next day, after making more phone calls than a politician on election night, a swarm of flatbeds, wheel-lifts and salvage trucks descended on those woods. For two days they scooped out every piece of metal and glass in the place, while I oversaw the operation like a choir conductor from hell. I directed trucks this way and cutting crews that way. They snipped and cut and tore out every dead tree standing in the way so the truck crews could do the rest. I even got in there myself with the old chainsaw when it was needed.
It was an exhausting two days, but I managed to keep my word to Burt and clear every abandoned car off his property with about an hour to spare. Some of the cars went to the junkyard, others to various garages I’d made arrangements with.
I was dead on my feet by the time I got home. I was ready for a shower and a bed, in what order I wasn’t sure. And yet a crackle of energy went through me when I saw what had been dropped off in my garage.
My mystery car. Without the shadows of the woods hiding it, I could see it had been painted silver before the rust took over. It had been a fast sucker once, like a bullet to a werewolf’s chest. That had been a long time ago, and yet I sensed there was still some life in the old girl. I wanted so badly to start digging around under the hood, to see what I could find out, but my legs were ready to collapse and my eyes could barely focus. Intending to wake up early and hit the garage, I stumbled off to bed.
You know that feeling you get when you realize someone’s been talking to you for the past minute, thinking you’ve been listening, and you only just figured it out?
That’s the feeling I woke up to.
I sat straight up like a vampire rising from his coffin. My bedroom was still dark, which meant it was the middle of the night. In my half-sleep I tried to make out the clock on my nightstand but couldn’t read the numbers, so I fumbled for my glasses and shoved them on. It was just past two in the morning: way too early, even for me. No way was I getting up, strange feeling or no.
I was about to take my glasses off and lay back down when I heard the reason I’d woken up.
Whispering.
A man was in my room, whispering in the dark. I lunged across my bed and turned on the lamp, nearly knocking it over. I didn’t have a weapon, but if I could see the intruder I could do something about it. I spun back, back to the whispering, to see who it was, to shout at them or jump on them, whatever I had to do to save my life from the psycho in my bedroom.
But the room was empty. Just me and a pounding heart.
I was so confused, I jumped out of bed and tore around the room, making sure no one was hiding, but I didn’t find anyone. I was alone.
Then I heard it again, and I knew: the whispers were coming from down the hall.
With bare feet I followed it, trying to make out what it was saying, but it was too low to understand. I grabbed a knife as I passed through the kitchen and held it in front of me with sweat beading on my face despite how cold I kept the house.
I followed the whispering to the garage. The overhead light flickered on, lighting up the strange car in my garage. In my half-sleep, half-terror I’d nearly forgotten about it. But there it was, like a bear hibernating in its cave, waiting for the end of winter. It felt alive somehow. Not dead, just asleep and dreaming.
And it was whispering.
I knew how crazy that sounded, how crazy that was, but I swallowed hard and approached the car, knife first. The blade shook in front of me. The whispering got louder the closer I got, and yet I still couldn’t understand the words it was saying. Was someone hiding inside the car? Had I inherited a homeless man when I’d had it towed to my house? If so I had to get him out of there. Get him help, sure, make sure he had a place to sleep, but he couldn’t stay in my garage, whispering through the night. No way.
With my free hand I yanked on the driver’s side door. It didn’t open. Rusted shut. I slowly walked around to the passenger side and yanked again. It opened.
The whispering was louder now, louder but not clearer, like an old television tuned between channels, like a frequency not being picked up, like a…
Like a radio.
The whispers were coming from the radio. I laughed under my breath, realizing how ridiculous I’d been. But then I remembered there was no way the radio could be working. The car wasn’t turned on. If it even had a battery under the hood, it was probably little more than a square pile of rust and battery acid.
I clutched the kitchen knife tight, and with the other hand I slowly reached out to turn the volume knob. I needed to know if the whispers were coming from the radio, and if they were, I needed to know what they were saying. My temple throbbed as the whispers grew louder and louder, louder and louder, louder and-
The moment my finger touched the knob, the whispers stopped.
I felt like I was going crazy. I looked around the inside of the car, noting the strong smell of mildew and animal with a tinge of rotten leather. Other than my own breath echoing back at me, it was silent.
No whispers. No nothing.
I went back to bed, but I barely slept.
The next day was the day I usually took off from the shop, which was a relief since I woke up almost as tired as when I’d gone to bed. As I ate my breakfast, the night before still sat fresh in my mind. But the more I went over it, the more I thought it had been a bad dream, brought on by exhaustion and an imagination run wild. I had to admit the mystery car sitting in my garage had gotten my mind racing faster than a Formula 1.
I’m the kind of guy who likes a simple explanation, something I can touch and feel and, yes, fix, so I started to think that I could have picked up some kind of rogue radio transmission from a trucker, or even a passing plane. The police scanner I owned in my younger days had certainly picked up its share of random broadcasts, and when it comes to working on junkers I’ve learned to expect the unexpected.
After I’d eaten my breakfast and downed my coffee I got right to work on the car. I wanted to clear the air of whatever had happened, and I was dying to see what that baby had going on under the hood. The mystery of who the hell had made the thing was still heavy on me.
But the enigma only deepened the more I looked. Under all that rust and dirt and oil I couldn’t find one damn mark that told me who’d made the car. I almost wanted to say it was a custom build, but the work was too precise, the system too well-planned out to be an after-market job.
I worked on it all day, so wrapped up in it I forgot to eat lunch. I ate dinner like a raccoon digging through a dumpster. Then I worked on it some more.
I was just crawling into bed when I heard it again.
The whispering.
This time I ignored it, hoping it would go away on its own. But it didn’t stop. Not until I got up, walked across my house, went into the garage, and touched the radio. Then, it stopped.
I decided right then and there not to go to the shop the next day. There was just too much work to be done.
I’d been working on the car for four days straight before I got it started up. Four days of stripping and cleaning and rebuilding. Four nights of whispering. I was even starting to hear it during the day, but low, barely audible, like a television playing somewhere in the house.
After I got the engine started, the first thing I did was pull my code reader down from my tool wall and hook it up to the dashboard input. I’d been pleasantly surprised to find an input on the car, even though I was fairly certain it had been built after '96. To my shock the screen filled up with a bunch of random trouble codes I’d never seen before, then went blank. I tried to get it powered up again but apparently the connection had completely overloaded the device.
I’d had the reader for years and it had never given me a problem. I put it down and got back to the car, deciding to stick to the old-fashioned way and get a feel for what was wrong with it. Just like dad used to do.
With my foot on the gas I revved the engine good. It sounded better than I’d expected, like a beast waking up from deep sleep. But there was also something rattling around under the hood, something loose knocking around inside the carburetor or possibly even the manifold.
I tried a few options, opening up this and that, until I narrowed it down to something completely unexpected: the transmission.
With considerable force I managed to open up the transmission, and sure enough I found something inside. Something dark and red. I pulled it out and studied it under the light. It looked like a small rock covered in old transmission fluid. How it got in there I didn’t have a clue. But I decided to clean it off and get a better look at it, in case it pointed to a bigger problem. As I walked it to the slop sink, I noticed the whispering, usually a dull static during the day, had started to grow louder. I could almost make out individual words now. But I ignored it and ran the small rock under the faucet, watching the dark red fluid swirl down the drain.
That was when I discovered something I wasn’t prepared for. The thing in my hand wasn’t a rock- it was a tooth.
A human tooth.
The whispers had grown so loud I could barely hear myself think, barely feel the disgust rising in the pit of my stomach. With the whispers practically shouting in my ear I dropped the tooth and it bounced and clattered inside the sink, coming to a rest near the edge of the drain.
The whispers grew quiet again. A dull roar tickling at the back of my skull. I stared at it, the tooth in the sink, the impossible tooth from the impossible car. I had the urge to throw it out. To get it out of my house and never see it again. But I didn’t do that. I couldn’t tell you why not.
Maybe because that meant touching it again.
Maybe something else.
Feeling like I should give the car a rest, I worked on getting my code reader working again, otherwise I’d have to run to the store and buy a new one. I changed out the batteries and gave it a good, solid whack. A few seconds later I was happy to see the screen turn on. I thought I’d have to do a factory reset to use it again but I was surprised to find it worked perfectly fine. Not only that, the trouble codes it had read off the car were still stored in its memory.
There were pages and pages of codes like I’d never seen in my life, more than I think are even in the tool’s programming. In fact I couldn’t find a single one of them anywhere in the manual. I figured they were probably just random numbers, and yet there was something strange about them, like they had a pattern to them. I dusted off my old computer and typed in the problem codes, figuring if I could get a better look at them I might be able to figure out their meaning. If not, I could at least print them out and show them to somebody who could.
After twenty minutes I’d barely made a dent in typing up all the codes. I gave up on the idea that I could copy them all. I pushed away from my computer and stood up, rubbing my eyes from the strain. Between the glare of the old screen and the noise in my ears, my head was killing me. It all felt so pointless. So inconsequential.
Just before I shut the computer down, I happened to glance one last time at the screen. And when I did, I noticed something that made my skin go cold.
The codes. The pattern. The numbers and letters and spaces between them. They were starting to form a face. A human face, with two eyes and a screaming-
I shut the computer down as fast as I could, then unplugged it to be safe. Then I marched to the garage and disconnected the radio, practically ripping it out of the car.
The whispers stopped.
The house was quiet.
But not for long.
For three days I told myself to get rid of that car, tow it out of my garage and dump it somewhere no one could find it. Maybe even drench it in gasoline and light a match. For three days I ignored the whispers and the doorbell and the phone calls from my shop asking when I was coming back. For three days I buried my head under the hood and worked and worked and worked.
On the fourth day, when the whispers from the radio had grown louder than my own thoughts, louder but still unclear, without words I could understand, I lost it. I threw my wrench at the tool wall, knocking down chisels and socket wrenches and a dozen other tools clattering to the ground. I pounded on my ears, cursing them, willing them to go deaf and stop hearing the whispers.
But they didn’t stop hearing. And the whispers didn’t stop. So I decided. I decided that if I couldn’t stop hearing them, I at least needed to know what they were saying.
I went back to the slop sink. The tooth was still there, perched near the edge of the drain. I’d prayed for it to slip down and wash away on its own but there it was, round and sharp and real as ever. So I picked it up, and the whispers grew louder. Clearer. But still not clear enough to hear. Not enough to make out what the radio was saying. To understand what it wanted from me. It was like a broken antenna, only tuning in half the frequency.
The garage was a mess. I was a mess. Rancid grease stains everywhere. A hole in my tool wall where the wrench had struck it, the ground littered with hammers and screwdrivers and …
Pliers.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I grabbed the pliers from the ground, shoved it onto my mouth, got a good hold of my bad tooth, and ripped it out. It was easier than I expected, but it still hurt, and it bled a lot. But I didn’t hesitate. I pushed the tooth I’d found in the transmission into its place.
The moment I did, it was as if everything came into focus. As if the radio was inside my skull. No, as if my skull was the radio, and I was the antenna. I could hear the transmission clear as day now, a man’s voice inside my head.
Whispering to me.
Telling me where to find the rest of him.
I told you all of this, not because I expect you to believe me, but because I’m about to walk out my door and do something I might not come back from. And if that’s the case, if I don’t return today or any other day from this thing I need to do, I want people to know why.
Because I find things. I find things and fix them. If you don’t know that, you don’t know me.

Several weeks ago, I made a post here regarding my puppy being over-stimulated the entirety of our first puppy class, which looks like him looking rapidly around at his triggers (people, dogs), wagging his tail the entire time and panting heavily, to the point of trembling. Advice ranged from pulling him from the classes altogether or asking for modifications like a visual barrier which wasn’t available. The classes were in a very small room which really didn’t help. After speaking with the trainer, they suggested we move to advanced classes as my puppy was still responding well in his high arousal state and the location was a lot bigger. We gave this a try and while he definitely was still over-stimulated, he did do really well and I saw progress over the weeks. We had a class outdoors and he was by far one of the best behaved. I was proud.
Until last night.
For whatever reason, last night, he couldn’t handle it. He went back to the same intense arousal as the first class in the small room, but worse. He was trembling so bad. I was going to pull him out after 30min, but then we moved onto a “leave it” game which didn’t involve proximity to other dogs and he knocked it out of the park. I should have pulled him out then though, because the next activity involved a “meet and greet” where we walked towards another owner and dog, with dogs on opposite ends so they couldn’t actually meet. My puppy couldn’t handle this and to my dismay he started jumping at the owners and lunging at the dogs. Other owners criticized us and I walked out early in tears.
I had a very bad feeling about the repercussions, and I was right. Today has been horrible.
He is getting intense zoomies indoors as soon as the crate door opens which NEVER happens. He was finally starting to settle on his own and now he just wanders and pants non-stop again. We have a routine as we walk down the stairs in our apartment where he checks in with me on each flight, and I might as well have not have existed to him today. I knew before we even walked outside what I was in for…
He was extremely hyper alert and over aroused. We live above a shopping plaza so he has been exposed to people, dogs, heavy traffic, all the bells and whistles since day one. I have worked on properly exposing him to these things so he doesn’t get over aroused. But today, he was the worst behaved that he has ever been. The moment he saw a person or dog, no matter how far, he hyper fixated and either stopped dead in his tracks while ignoring my commands or pulled towards them. He pulled hard towards every single person who passed us which was extremely embarrassing. He had almost no unprompted engagement with me even though I have worked so hard on this every single day. Normally he looks at me every minute or so. He has NEVER been this bad. All it took was one stupid puppy class.
We obviously won’t be going to the final class next week, and he will be getting conditioned to a halti to hopefully stop him from pulling towards people. I was so proud of him because he didn’t need one…
I think a big reason why it’s so bad is because we don’t have a yard for him to run around in (I do take him on long line walks all the time, but haven’t much for the past week because of car issues). Another big reason is probably because I have no friends that live near me, so he doesn’t get to play with other dogs or learn how to greet new people properly. I’m not only an introvert, but kind of anti-social in general… it is extremely difficult for me to try to make new connections. That’s why I got a dog, to be my best friend. But I have tried countless times to connect with others for this dog so he can get the outlets he needs. None of these times have worked out. I have gone way above and beyond what 90% of dog owners do for this dog (not just meeting strangers for dog dates, but multiple rounds of puppy classes, private training, many books and hundreds of hours spent researching)…. and it’s still not enough.
I really like this dog. I am bonded to him. I know he is bonded to me.
But if we can’t even go for a walk in our neighbourhood without him being overstimulated the moment we walk out the door. Or find a quiet trail without off leash dogs running around. I just don’t know if this is sustainable for either of us.
This is the closest I have felt to wanting to throw in the towel. And now more than ever, it’s not even about me, but about this dog and what’s best for him. I don’t know how much longer I should hold out before I tell the rescue that he needs to go to a home with either a yard or another dog, or ideally both.
I am just so, so exhausted. And I feel so, so bad for my dog. I hate this.

I'm not sure why I'm posting this. I've talked with two people about this but I guess I'd like to know if anyone's had a similar experience and how they've handled it. Even just more thoughts of other people might help me. Okay, so this is what happened and what my thoughts are. (Feel free to read and comment/chat/DM me if you feel like it :) )
I met a guy on Bumble (BFF mode) in April and we've only met twice IRL. I felt like we connected really well and this was the start of a beautiful friendship.
However, things very much changed after our 2nd meet-up. We were soon planning a 3d meet-up, for which he was suggesting things we could do. He asked me if I was available on a certain date but then shortly after he replied to his own message saying couldn't meet because he had to work. On that day a few days later I happened to have an appointment very close to his work place and texted him that I just passed by the restaurant he worked at. He replied that he wasn't working bc it was his usual day off, so I obviously got confused and asked him why he told me that he had to work. He explained to me that he had started dating someone and it was all very intense (apparently this started shortly after we met up for a 2nd time (purely friendship-oriented)) and he found it hard to talk about his dating life. I told him that he could share anything he liked to share but also mentioned that it's totally fine for him to keep things private. I wished him the best with his hopefully beautiful love story and didn't ask any question about his dating story. I asked him if he wanted to meet up again or if this was kind of the end of our friendship that had only just started, and he replied that it wasn't necessarily the end and that we'd still grab a coffee some time. He was just very pre-occupied suddenly and didn't want to make plans right away (and I respected that). I did express that I would find it difficult to suddenly go from making a lot of plans together to not being sure when (and maybe even if) we would see each other again and mentioned that losing people/connections is something that I've always been afraid of. Maybe that was TMI/selfish, but the fact that he lied to me and this sudden change made me anxious. We ended this chat on a good note and he said something like "we're just a bunch of introverts who don't know how to deal with all these feelings". He also assured me that this change had nothing to do with me and all with him, and that we had a really good start together, so he knew this was kind of a weird switch that I might take personal. He really wanted to prevent that. I said "alright, talk to you soon" and we wished each other good night.
Unfortunately, we never had a single conversation, either online or IRL, after this chat. I gave him space but did kind of miss him and decided to message him 3 weeks later (just a simple "hey, how's life?). I didn't feel like I was being pushy after messaging him weeks later, also bc he assured me it wouldn't be the end of our friendship. It's now more than 3 weeks later and he still hasn't replied to my message (and hasn't read it). I haven't sent any follow-up message bc I don't know what he's going through and want to give him the space he might need (even tho this ghosting behavior hurts). However, last weekend I noticed he had suddenly unfollowed me on Instagram, and it felt like this happened shortly after I'd posted a holiday pic. When I noticed this I started struggling even more with the ghosting. He didn't remove me from his followers and he also didn't block me on Instagram and WhatsApp. It really hurts bc it feels like an immature way to tell me he's not interested in me anymore. At the same time I have no idea what is actually behind his behavior.
Some of the options I've been thinking about: - He doesn't want to be friends with me for whatever reason but is avoiding any sort of confrontation. - He's going through something difficult and doesn't want to open up about it. - He might have unfollowed me bc it's difficult for him to be confronted in some way with the person he's ghosting. - He's now in a relationship and has no time for (relatively) new friends (basically has other priorities) and for some reason doesn't feel the need to just be honest.
Some of my thoughts on this: - I know ghosting is immature and that this shows he doesn't respect me. In theory I shouldn't want to be friends with someone who lacks basic communication skills, and there is no point in thinking about possible reasons for why this is happening. - I was thinking about sending him an honest message. That I'd respect if he doesn't want to be friends with me, that I'm there for him if he's going through something, but that I'd also respect if he doesn't want to open up to me. I didn't send the message, bc I'm afraid I'd feel worse if he keeps ghosting me. I'm also giving him more attention by doing that while maybe I should just be moving on. - It's rare to have such a good platonic connection with someone after having met them just twice. It really hurts to be left in the dark like this. Rationally, I know that I don't deserve this kind of silent treatment and that I should move on. However, it's still difficult at this point.
Didn't expect to write all of this down, but it really helps. Not really expecting anyone to read this, but thanks to anyone who has lol. Apologies for any typos/mistakes, I haven't done a spelling check.

Hello everyone!
We just adopted a 10 month old mixed breed dog (Australian Shepard, Jindo, and other breeds) and as the title says, she is absolutely terrified. When we took her out of the car and I was holding her to carry her inside, she peed and pooed. We brought her in and laid her on our old dog's bed until our dog crate arrived.
It has been less than 24 hrs, I know it takes time, but please read on I have been trying to leave her alone, not making eye contact and just throwing treats near her. She doesn't take them right away, but eventually she eats them. I have put a bowl of her food with her and a water dish nearby and she hasn't touched either. I have to physically take her out to go potty and she just freezes and pees and poops right where she is standing, then tries to run.
I don't want to stress her out by doing this anymore. She is obviously terrified and hyperventilates for a bit and grinds her teeth. The crate came, so now if she does have an accident, it will be much easier to clean.
A vet told us in the past to get a dog to hydrate, give them plain chicken broth. We were thinking about doing that and adding it to some of her food for it to be more enticing. Right now she is in the crate (door open) with a cover over it. I don't plan on bothering her as I know it takes time for them to acclimate to their new environment, so I don't expect her to cuddle with me by tonight, just for clarification.
Does anyone have any advice on getting her to go potty, eat, and drink without me stressing her out more than she already is? Thank you for any help!
Update:
I hear her moving and sniffing around in her crate. Progress! She hasn't moved on her own since she got here!

(Shoutouts to u/TheSlyKoopa for the match concept!)
Scenario: Isla de Piedra, Somewhere in the Mediterranean Sea — 11:44AM
Dédalo Viatger, adventurer, archaeologist and explorer extraordinaire, had filled his travelog with countless exploits on his never-ending quest to uncover the secrets of the ancient world. Following the trail of the lost civilization of Pieduro was proving to be his lengthiest entry yet. Armed with powerful Pieduron artifacts known as the Temples, Dédalo and the Pieduron entity ｢Perdida｣ had forged a path across the Mediterranean, getting ever closer to solving the mystery of their disappearance.
With assistance from Cullinan Dwarf Star, Patron of the House of Muses, Dédalo and Perdida were on the verge of discovering the final piece of the puzzle. Their journey had come full circle, and Dédalo and Perdida’s adventure would end where it began; on the island of Isla de Piedra.
Situated between the coasts of Southern Spain and North Africa, Isla de Piedra had been uninhabited for all of recorded history, though not for lack of trying. The dense forests and greenery that covered every square meter of the island made it a ripe target for logging companies and greedy colonists to strip it for all it was worth. None had succeeded—their abandoned camps had long since been reclaimed by the forest.
The only other sign of human life on the island was the ancient Pieduron outpost where Dédalo’s journey first began, and where it would now hopefully end. The trek to get there was as difficult as the first time—but he didn’t have to do it alone now. At his side were his ever faithful companion Perdida, the inquisitive swordswoman Ninian, the extraordinary android 2095, and the illustrious ice skater Electra (although he didn’t call them that out loud).
Dédalo led the party up a long, winding stone staircase, pointing out the many partially-disabled traps along the way. He and Ninian had long been in contact, and the latter could personally vouch for her +1s—2095 one of the few Bastards she could trust and Electra having earned her trust in for her actions against Enyalius & Enyo Pharmaceuticals in San Battista.
“...and here’s a wall of spikes that shoot out when you pass over that threshold,” he pointed out with a tour guide’s enthusiasm. “I managed to jam up the mechanism with some cloth, but we should probably tread carefully around here.”
Electra rolled her eyes, even though Dédalo couldn’t see the gesture. “Should have just blown it up,” she muttered, annoyed. While her experiences in San Battista had somewhat melted her frosty demeanor, it had still been a long, hot, exhausting trip to get here, and old habits died hard.
“Watch your tone, miss,” Perdida said from behind her ear, making her jump. “My people’s architecture is not something to “blow up”.”
“And it might not have worked,” 2095 chimed in. “If this outpost could survive all those centuries of wear, I doubt a mundane explosion would do much damage to it.”
“The Piedurons built everything to last, from their treasures to their traps.” Dédalo gingerly ducked under the blade of a massive pendulum axe that jutted out from the ceiling. “Fortunate in some ways, unfortunate in others.”
At last, they reached the center chamber. Carved from stone and coated with moss, it appeared just as untouched as the rest of the outpost—save for the podium in the middle of the chamber and the conspicuously empty space on top of it, where the moss grew a little bit thinner.
“Ah, this brings back memories,” Dédalo chuckled. “This is where Perdida and I first met. The El Cor Terra necklace lay in this very spot at the heart of the chamber. When I unfastened it, poof! There she appeared in all of her resplendent glory. We hit it off right away.”
“He tried to cut my head off with a machete.”
“In self-defense!”
“Ok, move it along, lovebirds,” Electra huffed. “Where’s the thing we were looking for? It’s somewhere in here, right?”
Brushing past the “lovebirds” comment, Dédalo retrieved a piece of parchment from his explorer’s pack marked with the symbol of the House of Muses. “According to Cullinan, the hidden door should be right over on that wall.” He pointed over 2095’s shoulder at the northern wall of the chamber. “The question is…how do we open it?”
2095 gave the room a once-over. Aside from the layer of moss and vegetation covering the chamber, it was pretty bare. Its only noticeable feature seemed to be the podium.
“Perhaps the podium could offer some answers.” The party gathered around the stone podium—a stone cylinder, atop which stood a carving which vaguely resembled the neck and collarbone area of a human, with a thin groove running where a necklace would hang. Perdida instantly recognized the Cleria stone inlays around the circumference of the podium.
She traced a finger along the length of the groove, and the Cleria stone beneath it glowed—and, at a volume only audible to 2095’s mechanical hearing, it began to hum.
“Keep going, Perdida,” she whispered. Perdida closed her eyes, feeling herself attune to the place where she lay dormant for thousands of years. The Cleria stone grew brighter and brighter, the hum getting louder and louder.
Suddenly, the room shook. Electra leaped back, expecting another trap. Instead, she watched as the north wall slid open like the doors of an elevator, revealing two hallways; one leading up, the other leading down, both with Cleria stone markings along the walls that pulsed with a gentle light.
“Thank goodness,” Dédalo sighed. “I was worried the real treasure was going to be the friends we made along the way.”
Dédalo and Perdida continued to trek up the hallway, climbing what was likely the control tower of the outpost. Ninian dutifully followed behind them, ready to draw her blade at whatever might strike from the newly unknown section of the outpost. The sound of exhaled breath made her jump...but it was only a sigh from Dédalo. “A shame you came aboard so late, Ninian; our journey’s almost up.”
Ninian’s confusion spiked to alarm as the explorer motioned to lean against the wall. “Watch out-”
Dédalo made contact and nothing happened. He tilted his head to the end of the corridor, a doorway just a few meters away. “We’re far enough in that we’ve most likely avoided the worst of the traps. Besides, I don’t think the Piedurons would have placed many traps so close to a place of importance.” He wistfully rubbed his arm, massaging the strain of adventures and injuries in equal measure. “Feels almost bittersweet. So many months of travel and turmoil, and the end of our journey is in sight.”
“Hey, don’t say that yet. We still need to find a way to get my human body back.” Pedida gently punched him in his shoulder. Still, her pout eventually softened as she looked back towards the final chamber. “I guess you are correct, though. The answer to the Pieduron collapse lies beyond those doors. What comes after…nobody knows”
“Quite right,” Dédalo nodded, and the group moved onwards. “I hope that Electra and 2095 are doing okay down there, in any case.”
“I hope that the rest of the outpost is okay,” Perdida frowned. “They didn’t seem to appreciate how precious this place is—I don’t want to lose another one.”
“I don’t think we have to worry too much about losing them,” A grin of cat-like mischief unfurled on Ninian’s face as hoarse laughter echoed on a draft. There were adventures to come and to be seen, but one to reach its conclusion here and now, and the anticipation made Ninian’s hair stand on end.
The group carefully entered the room, and Perdida flickered out of existence. Before any of them could respond, the control room flickered to life. The stone walls that extended higher and higher suddenly turned “on” as if they were screens, but these were more akin to slabs whose light-emitting runes and rocks flickered and changed in the appearance of Perdida—Perdidas, in fact. All of them, on the many screens, acted in unison as Dédalo rushed forward. “Dédalo, what’s going on?”
“We’re figuring it out,” he shouted as he and Ninian raced to the panels below, trying to decipher the text streaming by. Soon, however, one message displayed on a readout screen:

MYSTICALLY AUTOMATED KNOWLEDGE SYSTEM 0 DETECTED
RESUMING RING FUNCTIONALITY

Meanwhile, having taken the outpost’s lower path, 2095 and Electra entered into a large atrium. Like the rest of the outpost, the walls and floor were composed of the usual, teal stone that seemed impossibly durable. The fact that they could use it to form buildings, carve intricate murals, and keep it all hidden was impressive, but they craned their heads upwards towards the skylight that would let rain and sun in. Through the overgrown foliage, they could see a massive flat ring of Cleria floating above the ground in stubborn defiance of the laws of physics. Gravity-defying gyroscopes of stone spun and swirled in the air above, rotating with the same slow grace as the ancient gears that whirred to life around them. The glow of the Cleria blended together with the light of the noonday sun; the hum of power permeated the entire chamber.
“...shit,” Electra murmured, not sure what else to say.
2095 scanned the rest of the atrium, but ultimately found nothing beyond a discolored, glowing pad on the floor by the opposite wall, outcroppings on the walls that resembled benches, and the remnants of what appeared to be ancient drinking fountains. Rest now before it’s too late, the room seemed to scream.
“I believe we should wait for the others before we go deeper,” 2095 announced. “We could retrace our steps and explore the previous areas, in case we missed another hidden passageway or an undiscovered treasure. It would be a shame to proceed not knowing whether we’ve left every stone unturned-”
“Not a chance,” Electra huffed. “I’m not letting us get killed because of your FOMO. Come on.”
She grabbed 2095 by the wrist and began to drag her over to the pads. 2095 let her—partly because she weighed significantly more than Electra did and she didn’t want her to hurt herself trying to pull her by force, but partly because she was right. She could feel the air buzzing with energy, intensifying by the second. Something big was about to happen.
The two stepped onto the floor pad and immediately felt themselves being shunted into a different space as the teleporter activated. When their vision cleared, they found themselves standing on top of the Cleria ring itself. Electra could smell the ozone in the air and taste the prickling on her tongue. This ring was the key to the whole mechanism—either it was powering the outpost…or the outpost was powering it.
2095 gazed in awe at the machinery surrounding them. It reminded her of the technology from her time; except instead of steel and chrome, it was made of rock and crystal. What secrets died with the Piedurons when they disappeared?
She turned to Electra to express her wonder and nearly screamed when she saw the vantablack vines burst out of her shadowed face, ready to smash the ring to pieces.
“What are you doing?!” 2095 yelled, ｢Yours Truly｣ appearing at her side, tentacles raised.
“I’m destroying this thing, duh,” spat Electra. “I know a superweapon when I see one, and I’m not about to let some dipshit corporation get their hands on it after we leave.”
The chamber shook, bits of rocks and dust falling from the ceiling. “B-but we don’t even know whether this is a superweapon! Aren’t you acting a bit rash?”
“Rash? Seriously? You have no idea what some people in Dead Drop Bay would do for an artifact like this.” Electra remembered what she saw in San Battista—the monster that she had to put down, fuelled by a desire to abuse the remnants of the past for her own gain. “Farewell to Kings, Dead Man’s Hand; hell, even my own company. They’d sink this island to the bottom of the ocean for the chance to have this thing for themselves. This way, I’m solving the problem before it has a chance to start.”
“And risk destroying the legacy of an entire civilization?!” 2095 felt anger boiling in her metallic chest. A part of her resonated with the Piedurons in this moment—she knew what it was like to be a relic of an era far from the present, the last remaining piece of a time nobody would ever know. “What gives you the right to decide what to do with an artifact of this magnitude? To bury what could be the last hope of Pieduro to be remembered as anything but a footnote in history?”
The chamber shook again—this time, both 2095 and Electra felt the ground shift under their feet. Without warning, walls of stone burst out of the ground around them, tearing through centuries-old roots and vines to surround the ring on all sides. Slabs of Cleria stone with deep divots carved into the top of them emerged from the ring itself and floated just above its surface like a magnet levitating atop another.
In the control tower below them, Dédalo and Ninian scrambled from panel to panel, desperately trying to decipher what was going on. Dédalo could see the two other members of the party facing off inside the ring—but before he could call out to them, he heard Perdida’s voice resonate from every screen.
“The Temples…I can see them.”
Ninian watched the panel in front of her light up, displaying a holographic map of the Mediterranean, hundreds of glowing blue dots scattered across the projection.
Dédalo rushed to the nearest screen and grabbed it. “Perdida! Are you alright?!”
“Y-yes, I’m fine.” Perdida blinked hard, putting a hand to the side of her head. “I can feel every Temple in the Mediterranean. I…I think I can gain access to them from here.”
“Access? Like…you can turn them on?” Ninian asked.
“Yes. All of them.” Before Perdida could say any more, the chamber shook once more. In the room below, the ring glowed even more brightly, the two would-be explorers now utterly trapped within it by the sloped walls surrounding it.
“See what I mean?!” Electra clenched her fists, snapping flytrap jaws emerging from the shadow underneath her. “We need to put this entire place in the ground. For good. And like hell am I going to let you stop me!”
Suddenly, all across the surface of the ring, crackling orbs of energy sparked to life, both 2095 and Electra just managing to avoid them. The orbs spun in a circle around the ring, accelerating rapidly until they were nothing but a blur. 2095 recognized the movements of the orbs immediately; it looked like a particle accelerator.
“I hoped we could resolve this peacefully, Electra.” 2095 flicked the silver locks out of her face. “But now I have to convince you in the only language you seem to understand—the language of violence. Don’t hold back.”
The age-old machinery around them hummed to a crescendo. If either of the two combatants wanted to see their convictions through, they would need to survive the full power of Pieduro first.
OPEN THE GAME!
Location: On Isla de Piedra, (Shoutouts to u/TheSlyKoopa for the match art) inside the Floating Ring. The arena shown here has Electra on the north side and 2095 on the south side represented by their character tokens. The players are in the area inside the ring and have no way to exit with sloping walls on all sides.
The ring has a diameter of 60 meters and the internal width is 15 meters; the entire structure is A Durability.
The brown rectangles inside the ring are Pieduron Temples that resemble short, knee-tall minecarts made out of stone slabs.
Goal: RETIRE your opponent!
Additional Information: Over the course of 10 minutes, the ring will spawn 6-inch diameter orbs of light that will accelerate and move in an orbit around the ring at A Speed. Each orb takes 4 seconds to spawn-in, glowing in place and translucent, before it becomes a solid orb.
Trajectory of the orbs move completely along the curvature of the ring, counterclockwise (denoted by the arrows on the map) and can be spawned anywhere inside the ring. When they hit something solid, they will detonate at C Power—powerful enough to destroy vines and ink left by ｢Venus Fly Trap｣ and tentacles from ｢Yours Truly｣—and cause another orb to spawn where the original one started. The orbs have a blast radius of half a meter and other orbs exploding around them will not trigger them to detonate.
Orbs will complete one revolution around the ring anywhere from 3 seconds (inside track) to 6 seconds (along the rim).
Assuming you are standing still, the rough number of orbs that pass by will be 5 orbs per second at the first minute mark, 10 orbs per second at the second minute mark, and so on until the maximum of 50 orbs per second at the ten minute mark.
Starting near each player and around the map are Pieduron temples that resemble minecarts. Each kart can comfortably fit one person, have a handle on either side, and a single rudder-like steering peripheral. The wheels of the kart will always stick to the ring, but they can drive just fine along the walls or even the ceiling of the ring. Karts move at up to B Speed and players intuitively have a 4 in driving them. At max speed, karts can complete one revolution in 4 to 8 seconds (4 seconds on the inside track and 8 seconds on the rim).
All karts have three other special features that can be activated when a driver is steering it, the Turtle, the Spider, and the Crab:

• The Turtle is a forcefield-like shield that can cover the kart and anybody riding inside it. This forcefield only protects against the fast moving orbs and their explosions and is intangible to everything else. It lasts up to 2 seconds and has a 6 second cooldown before it can be activated again. It can also be set to automatically activate if the minecart is about to hit or be affected by an orb, otherwise it can be manually activated by the driver.
  
• The Spider is a net-like shield that functions somewhat similarly to the forcefield the Turtle. The main difference is that instead of blocking orbs, it catches them and converts them into an inert palm-sized orb that is stowed inside the minecart. This shield does also block explosions produced by orbs, but will not produce an inert orb in those cases. The Spider lasts up to 1 second and shares a cooldown with the Turtle. Inert orbs are orbs that can be converted back into fast moving orbs by being thrown with force and intent. They can be made to move exactly in a straight line or along the curvature of the ring when thrown. Inert orbs have no other special properties, other than being A Durability.
  
• The Crab is a fast sideways dash up to 8 meters, with a minimum distance of 1 meter. Once the dash is finished, the kart will resume moving in the direction and speed it had before initiating the dash, making it useful for dodging without turning or changing the direction the kart is going in. This feature has a stamina bar where the longer your dash distance is, the more stamina will be used up. It takes 4 seconds for the stamina bar to fill up from empty.
  

The cooldowns and stamina bars are tied to the person, not the karts themselves.

Team	Combatant	JoJolity
Anvil Procession	Electra Heart	"I need to master this Spin..." Have a good plan for how to avoid and deal with the orbs spinning around you!
Bastards of Barcas	10538-2095	"The secret to the Steel Ball is the search for infinity..." Have a good plan for how to avoid and deal with the orbs spinning around you!

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