Toxic Rats: Geoff, Scott, Leshawna, Sammy, Trent
Mutant Maggots: Anne Maria, Katie, Molly, Scarlett, Dave, DJ
Episode 04: Finders Creepers
"Last time, on Total Drama Revenge of the Island!" Chris opened over a stock shot of the camp, the recap montage starting off with a clip of the contestants racing off towards the side of Mt. Looming Tragedy. "Twelve bumbling buffoons battled it out in a brutal buffet of bombastica," Chef was shown gleefully dropping ice blocks on the climbing campers, catching Geoff and Scott but narrowly missing Molly and almost catching Anne Maria.
"Why all the 'B' words?" B was shown demonstrating his couch invention created from junk, "Because, B proved he was a brave and brilliant improviser who scored big time for his team!" B used an ice pick to poke holes onto a shard of ice and placed it on top of the castle, directing the sun beam towards the Maggots' base and melting it effectively. "Until his bitter teammate Scott allowed brainy Molly to botch it on purpose and B got the boot," Molly threw a snowball onto the shard, melting the castle and B was shown being flung into the night.
"And now," Chris said, popping up in front of a shot of the full moon in a cloudy sky with a lit candle in his hand, marking the end of the recap montage, "tonight's challenge is about fear." He made a devilish look. "And everyone knows fear is a dish best served, in the dark!" he said in an exaggeratedly spooky manner, an eerie sound playing as he laughed evilly. "Huh?" he stopped suddenly, the camera pulling back to reveal Chef standing next to him...dressed like a showgirl with lots of peacock feathers. "Chef!" the host said in annoyance.
"Wardrobe was all out of vampire costumes," Chef explained as the series's capstone then began to play.
"It's all scary!" Chris said, walking off to the left. "Other than that," he scowled and gestured back toward his off-screen assistant. "Right here! Right now!" he resumed his usual demeanor. "On Total! Drama! Revenge, of the Island!" He adopted his spooky tone as he finished the title, and ended with another evil laugh.
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Frogs and crickets chirped and croaked, joined by an owl's hoots as the episode opened on a shot of the full moon. The camera panned down to the cabins as the sound of snoring was added to the nighttime mix, and the scene cut inside to the girls' side of the Maggots' cabin where Anne Maria and Katie were sleeping peacefully in the bunk they shared. Dave and DJ were also shown sound asleep on the boys' side, and the scene cut to the Rat boys to show Geoff also sound asleep.
The camera cut next to show Sammy waking up with a yawn. She stretched her arms out for a few good seconds and fell right back to sleep...until the sudden shrill wail of a blow horn pierced the air.
"RUN! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!" Chris hollered from off-screen as the scene cut back outside, the blowhorn continuing even over the panicked shouts of the campers.
The camera briefly cut to a close-up of the blowhorn still blowing, then over to the Maggots' cabin as they ran outside fully dressed – first Katie screaming "What's happening?!"; then DJ just screaming; then Scarlett yelling out "This is unethical!"; then Anne Maria just hollering; and then finally Dave coming out, calling out "I'm wide awake!"
The Rats were shown next, Scott grunting "Me first!" as he shoved Geoff down the stairs and slid down the railing; Leshawna quickly running after him; Sammy screaming at the top of her lungs; and Trent coming out last at around the same time while screaming.
They assembled nervously in the common area between cabins, where Chris – wearing a pair of heavy earmuffs – finally eased up on the blowhorn. "Glad you all could make it," he grinned as he took off his headgear.
Molly soon arrived later. "Is there an attack or what?" she asked her teammates.
Katie shot her a quick glare. "Of course not, but why would you care about anything but yourself?"
Confessional: Molly
"Olay, yes," Molly moaned. "I left my teammates behind, but that was because I wanted to win the challenge first. I was always taught to focus on one thing before moving on to the next, and that's what I did." She grew concerned. "I don't see any problems with that."
Confessional Ends
"I hope you're all ready," Chris continued, "'cause it's challenge time!" He stepped to the side as Chef rolled up a large widescreen television on a wheeled cart. It was currently displaying an aerial map of the island with several additional colored icons – six bright green skulls scattered around the island; three yellowish envelopes over the campfire pit, the western edge of the campgrounds, and deeper into the forest; and a large purple spider in the middle of it all.
"We're gonna do a challenge?" Anne Maria wondered. "In the middle of the woods? At night?"
Confessional: Anne Maria
"Doesn't Chris know that we need our hours of sleep?" Anne Maria criticized. "I haven't even done my hair."
Confessional Ends
"Your challenge," Chris continued as though there'd been no interruption, "a scavenger hunt for three creepy souvenirs. Your locations? A haunted forest," he walked across to the other side of the television, "a scaaary pet cemetery, and an extra spooktastic cave. First team to each location gets a special clue," he said, the camera zooming in as he pointed towards the westernmost letter icon on the screen. "But watch out for booby traps," he added jovially as he moved his finger to one of the skulls, "I really went to town with them, heheh." The campers were shown watching warily.
"So move fast," the host added, "and stick together. You'll be penalized for each player you lose!"
"Umm, what's with the giant spider?" Sammy asked.
"Oh yeah," Chris answered as the shot zoomed in on the icon in question, "there's some kinda gigantic mutated spider sorta running around loose on the island."
The cast immediately started to voice their fears and protests.
"A huge, humongous spider is on the loose?!" DJ hugged Katie out of fear.
"I guess so," Katie said frightfully, but was secretly enjoying DJ hugging her.
The shot zoomed in on Dave in particular as he looked around, moaning "Oh no..." in annoyance.
Confessional: Dave
"Ever since I was a kid, I've never been a huge fan of spiders," Dave admitted. "They leave messy webs everywhere they go, and it takes me a long time to clean them up in places like my uncle's attic or my aunt's basement." A spider soon crawled down on a string. "This is gonna be unpopular, but I'm not a huge fan of Spider-Man because of my dislike of spiders." The spider hissed after hearing the criticism, making Dave flinch.
Confessional: Leshawna
"I may seem fearless on the outside, but spiders are one of the few things I'm terrified of," Leshawna said nervously. "Anything with eight legs is frightening enough."
Confessional Ends
"And since I want to keep things fair for both teams," Chris continued, "I decided to bring back an eliminated contestant for the Rats."
"It's so good to be back here!" the familiar voice of Sierra was heard, becoming more recognizable when she ran next to Chris.
"Sierra! I haven't introduced you yet!" Chris snapped at her.
"If I waited any longer, the episode would've been past the usual 22-minute runtime," Sierra explained. "I'll just go join the Toxic Rats and save you the trouble of doing so since I've rejoined."
Chris watched the fangirl run up to the contestants in annoyance. "Long story short, Sierra is the returnee." Chris regained his smile, and the dramatic and almost heroic tune started playing again. "There's nothing to fear but mortal terror itself! Talk soon," he added impishly, sounding his blowhorn once again.
The twelve campers ran off towards the woods.
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The footage flashed ahead to another shot of the full moon over the forested hills of Wawanakwa, an owl hooting as the scene cut down to ground level. The logo of the Toxic Rats appeared in the corner of the screen just before the team itself did, running up and stopping in front of a tree with a loudspeaker set up in its branches.
"We're in first place! Sweet!" Geoff cheered just before the loudspeaker whined into activity.
"Welcome to the Haunted Forest!" Chris announced over it, the shot panning downward to show the six Rats gathering around a small crack in the ground. "Your clue can be found at the base of this tree!" Sierra reached into the hole...and screamed in pain as something metallic snapped inside the hole.
"Inside a bear trap," Chris finished his announcement with a laugh.
Sierra withdrew her hand from the hole, the trap clamped down firmly on her arm – though she was at least clutching a note in her hand. "Here! Read the clue," she said, passing it to a mildly shocked Sammy. Just as she was about to read it, the sound of approaching footsteps distracted her and her teammates.
"Bad news guys," Anne Maria commented from the six Maggots. "They have the clue."
"Even with a team advantage they still managed to beat us," Katie reminded them.
"We can let the opposing team have their clue," Scarlett said, looking back towards her teammates. "I have another plan," she said, running ahead with her teammates in tow.
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The shot cut to the Maggots as they stopped at a clearing further along the trail. "So what's the plan?" Katie asked the girl in front.
"Find a place to hide so we can follow the Rats and their clue to our first souvenir," Scarlett answered. "Into that bush!"
The Maggots dived and painfully tried to hide in a thorn bush.
"Be quiet," Dave hissed, "They're coming."
"Inside a knot is a nest," Sammy read as the scene cut to the Rats. "Your souvenir lives with a pest. Find Polaris to travel northwest? Polaris is the North Star."
"The North Star is right there, so this way's northwest! There's a path!" Trent declared. He ran off, the rest of his teammates following suit.
"Now we follow!" Scarlett declared as the rest of her teammates came out of the bush.
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The Rats' logo reappeared as the footage skipped ahead again to them running along through the woods.
"Inside a knot is a nest," Geoff muttered to himself as the shot zoomed in on him. "Hey Sammy, what was the rest of that poem again?" he called back without taking his eyes off the path ahead.
When he didn't get an answer he immediately skidded to a stop. "Sammy?!" he yelled in rising panic, and looked back to see nobody behind him.
The shot cut back to show that the rest of the Rats had stopped in their tracks. "What? Did we lose the mouse?" Scott asked.
Geoff gulped. "We get a penalty for each player we lose, right?" he asked nervously.
"And there's a spider crawling around, right?!" Leshawna said in panic. The shot cut outward as he did so, showing a large purple spider crawling down through the shadows of the forest trees.
"We're looking for a knot with a nest, right?" Scott looked off to the right; the camera quick-panned over to a large tree with a noticeable hollow knot in the trunk with the hints of a nest inside; a few green and red marks had been spray-painted on the bark under it.
"There it is!" Leshawna said, immediately rushing towards it.
"But what about Sammy?" Trent asked his team.
"We'll look for her after we get the souvenir," Sierra assured him.
Leshawna started climbing up the trunk as the rest of her team ran up to join her, and soon began to root through the tree hollow with one arm.
Suddenly, a large eye opened up inside the hollow and stared directly at Leshawna. She screamed, and several squid-like tentacles reached out of the tree's other hollows. One quickly grabbed her around the neck and held her up, while another gave her a few wet slaps then poked her in the eye.
"My eye!" Leshawna yelped in pain and terror. In response the tentacle tightened its grip, and Leshawna began to choke.
"What do we do!?" Sierra yelled in panic.
Geoff looked around, then bent down and picked up a handful of small rocks. "We can throw these stones at the octo guy!"
"Good idea!" Scott said as he and his team picked up rocks of their own and began throwing them at the creature, but they seemed to be hitting Leshawna more than the mutant squid-tree monster. Eventually, the thing just raised its captive up even higher, then slammed her down onto the ground and hissed at the others.
"RUN!" Geoff shouted, turning to flee as a tentacle shot towards them, forcing them to scatter.
Unfortunately, Trent was unable to get away in time and was lifted up by the leg. Trent cried in pain as the mutant began to punch him in the stomach with a curled-up tentacle.
The sounds of pain and wet punches caused Leshawna to get frustrated. "No way am I gonna get pushed around or let a squid attack my teammates!" she declared, getting back on her feet and climbing up the tree-squid's trunk while it was distracted. "Quit buggin' us!" she cried as she punched the mutant in the eye.
The beast bellowed in pain, dropping Trent and retracting into its tree. As soon as he got back up, a strand of spider's webbing shot down from above, sticking on to his head and pulling him away from the floor.
Leshawna reached into the knot once again, quickly and triumphantly pulling out a brass key. "And that's how I roll!" she called down to her teammates.
She dropped down to the forest floor, and landed in front of Geoff, who grinned when he saw it. "We got the key, Trent." Geoff received no response as Scott rejoined.
"Trent?!" Leshawna yelled out in concern. "Where are you?!"
As she panicked, the shot changed to a perspective further away, and the footage switched to an infrared shot of the four Rats.
"Guess he's gone," Sierra sighed sadly. "On the plus side, we found the key."
"We lost two players!" Leshawna said. "Shouldn't we go and look for them?"
"Knowing Chris, he probably has them trapped someplace else, so I'm not too worried right now," Scott brushed it off.
"You've got a point there," Geoff agreed.
Just then, the six Maggots arrived on the scene.
Scott was the first to notice them. "No luck here," he quickly said with faux disappointment, "Do you want to see if Sammy and Trent saw anything better over there?" he looked back and asked Sierra, Leshawna, and Geoff.
"Absolutely. It's not just the three of us," Sierra caught on before they turned and ran off.
"I see something!" Katie pointed off to the camera's right – the direction of the squid-tree. "Team colors!" The camera briefly cut over to the knot in question, with a focus on the marks below it in the two teams' colors.
"Excellent eye, Katie," Scarlett complimented while DJ ran to the tree.
"I'm not just a phone addict, y'know," Katie laughed a bit.
"I got the key, everyone," the camera cut to DJ who was in the tree's hollow and holding out a key. He threw the key in front of Dave and Molly.
"Way to go, DJ!" Molly said.
"Now you want to support us," Dave snarked at her. "Where was that when I was frozen?"
"Are you still mad about that?" Molly groaned.
"Of course we are," Katie snorted.
"You don't just leave your teammates behind," Dave lectured.
"Whatever happened happened," Anne Maria got in between them. "Let's focus more on the challenge and less on squabbling right now."
Confessional: Anne Maria
"I'm here to start no fights," Anne Maria confessed. "What Molly did was messed up, but they can scold her after the challenge."
Confessional: Molly
"Thank you, Anne Maria," Molly let out a sigh of relief. "Finally, someone who won't ride on me for my choices!"
Confessionals End
"You're right, Anne Maria," Dave sighed. "We shouldn't waste anymore time fighting."
As Dave bent down to pick up the key, however, a line of spider silk shot down from the treetops, wrapped around Molly, and pulled her up out of sight.
DJ regrouped with his team. "They said they saw something far away, so maybe-" he paused and looked behind his teammates. "Wait, where's Molly?"
The other four looked behind them and gasped. "Oh no, Molly's got taken by the spider!" Dave cried out.
"What do we do now?" Anne Maria griped.
Scarlett sighed. "Not to sound apathetic, but I think we're gonna have to continue on without her."
"Are you sure about that?" Katie questioned.
"I'm sure we can catch up to wherever she's being taken to," Scarlett waved off her concern.
"Well, I hope so," Katie said as she and the team exchanged nervous looks.
Confessional: Dave
"I don't see Molly in the best light right now, but that doesn't mean that I want her to be taken away," Dave began to shudder. "Especially by a spider."
Confessional Ends
"Why are we running so slow when we're in a challenge?" Geoff said as the scene moved back to him, Sierra, Scott, and Leshawna running through the forest. "We won't beat the other team at this rate."
"Relax, I know what I'm doing," Scott conversed with him.
Confessional: Scott
Scott was whittling another piece of wood with his shark tooth. "I'm heading us back into last place where we belong. Another elimination ceremony for the Rats and it's bye-bye Geoff! Or Sierra. I can't decide."
Confessional Ends
"C'mon, let's rock this! With years of exercise and partying, I've got energy to burn!" Geoff said, snatching the key from Leshawna and jogging ahead. The three followed him, but the camera kept its focus on Geoff as he passed a tree stump, then a rock; then stepped on a mysterious clump of dirt… which exploded and sent him flying.
Leshawna, Sierra, and Scott stopped immediately, the shot showing Sierra and Leshawna being shocked and Scott showing delight as Geoff got launched from one land mine to the next off-screen.
During this, however, a line of spider webbing was shot onto Sierra's leg. It quickly wrapped around it and tugged Sierra away from her team.
The camera finally cut back to Geoff, singed and groaning on the ground in an awkward but still holding the Rats' key. The Maggots approached him moments later. "Sorry that had to happen, doll!" Anne Maria comforted as she ran past Geoff.
Scott and Leshawna came to Geoff's need. "You gonna be alright?" Leshawna helped him up.
"I'll walk it off," Geoff tried to remain cool headed.
"Thanks, focus boy," Scott said.
"I don't want to strain my calves," Geoff added.
"We should leave in a few minutes just to make sure we catch up to the other team," Leshawna said. "Sierra just got captured, and I don't want us sticking around here."
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The scene cut to the lantern-lit cemetery. The camera panned left across its headstones and crosses, several of which were pet-themed, to the entrance as the five remaining Mutant Maggots arrived, huffing and puffing from their run.
"Welcome to the Wawanakwa Pet Cemetery!" Chris greeted them over the loudspeaker.
"We're first. Nice!" Dave said.
"What's the clue?" Anne Maria asked Scarlett.
The camera cut in close as she opened the lid to a small coffin in an open grave, revealing a ragged piece of paper within bearing a list of numbers: 5 in the first row; 5 in the second; 5 in the third. Notably, while most of the numbers were plain black there were three 6s and the 18 were all an eye-catching red. "Three 6's is normally not a good indication of luck," Scarlett said with a nervous look.
"Let's fan out and look for numbers!" DJ said as the perspective cut back to its usual sideview.
"By ourselves?" Anne Maria asked.
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"I'm in a creepy cemetery in the middle of the woods looking for three 6s. It's no big deal," Anne Maria said warily as she backed through the graveyard. "Good news is, there aren't any owls hooting around. I think I'm safe," she told herself, pausing to smile. "Now, let's see if I can find any numbers..."
She turned around and started examining the nearest headstone, and the shot cut to a view from afar, the footage switching back to infrared. The monster serving as the camera's viewpoint blinked, and when it opened its eyes it had gotten much closer to the jersey girl, and had extended four sharp limbs with tiny claws on the end towards her...
Anne Maria's scream echoed through the cemetery, quickly catching the attention of Katie, DJ, Scarlett, and Dave as they looked up in shock. "Anne Maria?" Dave asked out in concern, the footage quickly skipping ahead to show all four arriving at the location the tanned young lady had been snatched from.
"I could've sworn she was just here," Dave said in confusion.
They all gasped. "Where'd she go?" Katie asked in mild terror.
"I'm just as concerned as you all are," Scarlett started, "but like what happened with Molly, we should move along and hope to catch up with them."
"I know you're trying to be reasonable," DJ said, "but you're rubbing me off the wrong way."
"Yeah, it's like you don't care about what could happen to our teammates," Dave told her.
"I'm just used to not expressing my emotions on occasion," Scarlett told her team members. "Thank you very much."
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The scene flashed to the Rats, where Scott and Leshawna were next to grimy coffins propped upright against a couple statues.
"Find the souvenir, hide the souvenir, lose the game…" Scott went in to unlock the coffin, but was interrupted by Fang bursting out of the coffin with a menacing grin.
"AAAAHHHHH!" The devious ran away screaming when Fang moved to chase after him.
Geoff was looking at a grave that was open. "This grave smells like french fries. Weird, but I'm not complaining." He got shoved in thanks to Scott running away from Fang.
The camera followed Scott as he ran past two open graves, one of which with a mound of dirt in front of it.
The mutant shark followed his quarry, but when Scott leapt over the mound of dirt, Fang tripped over it. The shark fell into the open grave and growled.
"Why does this graveyard smell like fries?" Katie wondered aloud, following a scent as she walked through the cemetery. She soon came to the pit Geoff was in. "Maybe it's coming from there."
"Hello? Anybody? I need someone to help me down here!" Geoff called out.
Katie backed away a bit. "Did that hole just talk?"
"It's me. Geoff!" Geoff tried to denounce her belief.
"Oh right," Katie sighed in relief. "You're the guy with the cowboy hat."
"That's right," Geoff confirmed her statement. "I fell down this hole, and I'm covered in grease right now."
"So that explains the smell," Katie realized.
"Can you get me out of here?" Geoff begged her. "Grease doesn't mesh well with my shirt."
"I would, but I have to help my team right now," Katie declined. "One of your teammates could get you out. Bye," she left the scene.
"This sucks," Geoff whined, unaware of four maggots coming by the grave. As soon as they saw the grease and Geoff, they jumped in and attacked him, making him howl in agony.
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The scene cut to Chris, who was watching feeds of both teams on a trio of monitors and laughing hysterically. "Will anyone make it to the spooky cave?" he turned and asked the camera, holding a covered cup with a straw in it. "And if so, how can they possibly make it all the way to the finish line? Less brain, more pain, when we return!" he said, finishing with a sip of his drink.
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(Commercial Break)
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I have been obsessed with Elliott Smith for almost a decade now. I always wondered if he might have been disordered, BPD or possible vulnerable narc. Any one else a fan?
This post is going to be really hard for me. It is an act of vulnerability. Please be gentle.
Anyways. I guess I am writing about this story as a way of sharing something that a younger version of myself lacked the self-awareness to even question. It now causes me a lot of shame and grief, because it demonstrates just how out of touch with reality I have been my whole life.
When I was 23 (32m now), I used to work in a locally owned cafe/smoothie shop. Kind of a quirky, "hip" place in its day. A girl started working there. She was older, in her 30s, and struggled with an eating disorder. She was very literary, went to an Ivy League college right out of high school, and her life and mental health had recently taken a turn for the worse. She seemed to be in a vulnerable place. Even though she was much older than me, she looked young and had a sort of mousy appearance and was pretty in her own way.
At the time, I was sort of a shift leader or something. I remember the first time I really got to interacting with her, she was crashed out on the chair in front of the register. The place was a DISASTER: freezer doors left open, stuff spilled everywhere, milk left out. She might have been fucked up on something, but whatever was going on, she CLEARLY was struggling to function.
At first, being a shift leader, I kind of had to talk to her about what was going on. I started learning more about her, and she piqued my curiosity.
I was a lonely person, so sometimes I would go in on my days off to grab a smoothie and hang out. Some days, I'd go there and she was there. I got to talking to her more, and I learned more about her life story and her current circumstance. Basically, she had been struggling with her mental health for some time now, struggling to hold down a job. She received a DUI and caused a car accident with a pregnant woman, but everyone involved was okay. Since that point in time, her life had been crumbling apart: she was forced to resign from her job at the courthouse when all of this happened in a particularly humiliating, horrifying, and traumatic way. I really felt for her.
We started becoming friends, and I got to see her many different sides. She had a bit of an "attitude"-- a wholesome, endearing sort of feistyness-- a strength about her. She was wicked smart and funny. She had these silly little ways of saying things. She was religious, which was surprising to me, because (in stark contrast to my religious upbring), she wasn't a prude, was well-versed in music, literature, art, (both high-culture and low-culture stuff, she wasn't a snob), and she also had a really obscene and absurd sense of humor. Overall, I found her extremely endearing and fascinating.
Some days I would come in, and it was like a light had turned on inside of her, her smile would shine. It made me happy. Other days, she seemed bitter, angry, and depressed-- and there was no turning it around. Some days, she just seemed completely checked out, her speech was garbled--what she said often made no sense--and I became really concerned. I remember on those days she was so out of it, she often had a bead of snot just dangling from the tip of her nose.
What a mess. What a beauty.
Savior complex triggered much? Oh yes. Without even realizing, I started idealizing her and becoming completely infatuated.
There wasn't anything particularly wrong with this scenario, up until this point. I had a crush on an older woman who was becoming my friend, and she was in a rough spot in life. It felt like nothing was wrong with it. It felt innocent. It was innocent.
What I didn't realize at that time was that something in my interaction with her was triggering my insecurities, the old "push and pull". I couldn't tell if she just liked being my friend, liked-me-liked-me, or maybe was annoyed/indifferent to me? I would come in, grab a smoothie, start talking to her, and before I knew it, I was basically doing her job for her. On a few occasions, I stayed with until closing time, helped close up the shop, and give her a ride home. I was investing myself into her without even realizing.
Of course, my narcie bits didn't always feel appreciated. Sometimes, I felt a little resentful. To be clear: I don't think she did anything wrong here (especially now). She never asked me for her help. I just came in, saw a wounded little birdie, and instinctively wanted to swoop in and help out. Her vulnerability triggered a very childlike nurturing instinct in me.
What I didn't realize was how this "push-pull" (that was probably mostly imaginary), was triggering me. I started to feel small. I started to feel like everything I was doing to help her wasn't enough, that I wasn't enough.
The more I started liking her, the more I wanted to be like her. I wanted to be smarter, more literary, more funny, more prestigious--just, more. Something that wasn't a lame, abused, sheltered home-schooler. Someone who had life experience, who was intellectual, who had done things in life.
And then, slowly, I started attaching all of my fantasies produced by all of the unmet needs in childhood, to her. I started idealizing her life, her upbringing. I found myself thinking about what her life must have been like in public school, having friends, hopes, and dreams. Almost like a nostalgia over her past. I realize now, the nostalgia I felt was actually the nostalgia from my own childhood fantasies of being connected to the world, of having friends, hopes, and dreams. It was a nostalgia over a past I never had.
I started kind of becoming what I thought was "her". Rationalizing to myself that we shared qualities, traits, and interests. I found out she liked Cat Power. I started liking Cat Power. I found out she liked poetry. I started reading poetry. I found out she graduated high school with a prestigious scholarship. I started rewriting my own history, and later found myself making up stories to people at bars, how I too, had won that same scholarship out of high school.
Admitting even this much of this makes me feel so, so creepy and ashamed.
But that's far from the end of it. I was living and projecting my fantasy onto reality. Certain songs reminded me of her, even though there was no evidence that we had even shared listening to those songs together in reality. "In the Lost and Found" by Elliott Smith was one of those songs I attached this fantasy to.
I started actively changing myself to embody this weird fantasy version of myself. Creepily, I started to dig deeper into her history via her Facebook (which only had scant information about her to begin with). I found an ex-boyfriend of hers. He was a lawyer. She always talked about how she wanted to be a lawyer. Hey, I want to be a lawyer, too!--and then there would be subsequent rationalizations for why being a lawyer was the PERFECT job for me, and for why, clearly, what I was meant to do with my life was become a lawyer. Even more creepy, I started envying her ex-boyfriend, and found myself idealizing and emulating him, too. I saw a picture of him wearing hot pink socks. "How cool, unique, and quirky!". Guess who bought himself not just hot-pink socks, but hot pink SHOES?
I wanted to be like him. I wanted to absorb his qualities, this person that I had never met and only the most superficial, vague information about. My mind filled in the blanks. I found his goodreads account online and saw that he had read something like 200 uber-hip books on post-modernism, post-structuralism, and fashionable French philosophy. Guess who started buying and reading books on postmodernism and french philosophy? Guess who started modeling himself after a person he had never met?
Yikes.
At this point, I didn't even know if the girl cared for these things--by this point I was more wrapped up and concerned with creating this idealized version of myself based upon these internal fantasies of idealized objects, than really anything that had to do with her. She encouraged me to start working at the courthouse in her old role as a courtroom clerk, which I did end up doing for two years, until I realized that being a lawyer in real life actually sucks, and I don't actually want that job. (All of that is very complex--my dad had wanted to be a lawyer too, and I had reasons for wanting to become a lawyer before I met her, like wanting to be better than my dad, etc.)
Over time, we started drifting apart. But my sense of identity had completely changed. One day, a woman briefly walked into my little life at a smoothie shop, and completely changed me.
Or, I changed myself.
Writing all of this is extremely hard to face. It's extremely hard to face the fact that I have been living in a fantasy world for most of my life, and that my sense of self has been markedly shaped by it. That I manipulated myself and lied to myself and others, because deep down, my core identity is so weak, that I am constantly molding myself to be something acceptable, if even only to myself. That it's weak because I believe "being me" (whoever that even is now) isn't enough: I must DO. I must ACHIEVE in order to be worthy of love.
It's horrifying. I feel like such a creepy freak. More than anything, now, it just makes me really sad. It makes me sad that I have spent my entire life trying to become something worthy of love. It feels like my whole personality is made up of failed attempts at being good enough to receive all the things I desperately needed as a child. I was homeschooled, abused, and never even got to interact with the outside world. I never learned how to be a child--I was born into adulthood. I never learned how to make friends or interact with my peers, or how to be a real person in the real world.
It's had devastating impacts. Failed relationships. Addictions. Mal-adaptive daydreaming. Distorted, disturbed identity. Obsessive ruminations. Grief. Just, immense loss and disillusionment, my whole life.
Can I forgive myself? Can I forgive myself for this incessant self-abandonment?
It's hard. I've hurt people in my life. I never meant to, but I have. Most of all, I've hurt myself.
I really want to heal from this. I really want to live in the real world, be a real person. I want to know what it's like to "be me", but I don't even know if that's possible at this point. My whole identity feels like the skeletons of all the people I have tried and failed at becoming.
I'm trying to look at all of this insanity from a place of self-compassion. I can see how I got here. I can see it perfectly. It's just really painful to look at, and it makes me feel hopeless.
How can I ever really get to know "me"? At what point do I know that I have learned that I am good enough for me?

This film is so, so, so good.
(NO SPOILERS) Do NOT watch this film without having watched the first one (should be pretty obvious but I'll just throw that out there). If you saw the first one when it came out in 2018 in theatres (which I did), it will probably enhance your viewing of this sequel a lot if you revisit the first one. I wish I watched it before I saw the sequel today, since even though I remember the first one pretty well there's lots of details that I probably didn't pick up on. Also, the stories are reasonably tightly linked.
(NO SPOILERS) Pay attention to the dialogue. Some people apparently had problems hearing the dialogue, like in terms of volume balance? I didn't experience that personally. There were some moments where multiple characters are talking but that's when it's a more "chaotic" style of scene and there's nothing super important that's said in those moments. The reason why the dialogue is worth noting is because there are a few plot points that are discussed and not repeated. The audience is trusted to pay attention and it's worth it because they don't waste time going over those moments again. The only thing is that when characters are speaking, do listen up, particularly if English isn't your first language and you're watching an English release (or likewise for any other language).
(NO SPOILERS) This film is so creatively made and there's so much love and care that went into the making of the film. I know that phrase probably gets thrown around a lot but seriously, it's so true. There are lots of character moments that honour Spiderman's legacy, in film and comics, and there's a lot of Spiderman media I don't engage with so I'm sure there are plenty more moments I missed. The shots and camera angles are incredible. Action scenes are visually stimulating whilst still being clear and direct. The colour grading is so beautiful. There are moments where characters might have a pale or colder light cast on them in a warmer environment, or contrasts between light and dark, and it adds a lot of visual flair to a scene. The art styles of hand drawing/sketching/CMYK dots and all of those presentation quirks are even MORE stylistic than the first film. It adds so much character and every scene is so refreshing to engage with. And everything that I just said doesn't even include the writing, the plot, the characters, any of that. The first third or so is quite a classic story structure, and even if you're passively watching you'll still have a good guess of what's going to happen. Later in the film though, things just start happening and it's so exciting. You can tell that "something" is going to go down but you're never really sure how it's going to play out.
(NO SPOILERS) This film made me feel things that I haven't felt since EEAAO, which I also thought was extremely engaging and well made. I actually think that this film might have an edge over EEAAO to me, because the multiverse themes are kind of streamlined with the Spiderman character and concepts. EEAAO, for me, just toed over the line of "a bit too much happening at once" and I think this film walks the tightrope even better.
(SPOILERS) Some of my favourite moments includeall of the dialogue with Miles' family, which I felt was SO REAL, and so human. I thought that Spiderman 2099 (Miguel) being serious was very very good and a good tonal balance for the film, or else it edges a little too far into absurdity. They're already being very silly with some of the alternate Spiderheroes (like the dinosaur, Western style Spiderman etc.) and it's good that a character is played straight. The introduction of Spot was really well done, he's played for laughs at the start (like how Miles doesn't take him seriously) and then his role becomes more serious and dangerous (like how he does to Miles). I hope his character gets fleshed out more in the next film though because there's still a lot we can learn about him.
By far and away the best part was the conflict of "canon moments" and how "a police captain of some sort has to die in Spiderman's story". The fact that this was being held back from Miles by Gwen, Peter etc. and how tragedy is so core to the character is so intense to Miles' character. The fact that he's not been told adds depth to him feeling like an outcast with the Spider group and knowing that he's "always an anomaly" really adds to that feeling of exclusion, with the spider that bit him not coming from his dimension. All of the crazy twists at the end, with him ending up in the wrong dimension, and people scattering across to find him, and alternate Miles and alternate Uncle Aaron, all of it was just so engaging. I really felt like the last hour of the film could have gone in any direction without me guessing.
My only complaint, if I had to make one, is that sometimes the serious and solemn moments could have stayed a little less comedic. One that I do recall is when Gwen speaks with Miles' parents and then she says she's going to find her, and Miles' mother says tell him he's grounded for 5 months and that we love him. The grounding part is a cute callback I guess, and maybe in the moment it shows that his mother is struggling with the situation and is trying to make it less serious for herself, but I think that a scene like that could have hit a little harder without a more lighthearted line being thrown in. Keep in mind that this tonal shift thing is very very slight, the tone overall is extremely well balanced. Honestly, even as I type this, I feel more forgiving of the grounding line that I just mentioned. I do think that the dialogue could have been played slightly more seriously in some of the hard hitting moments, but that's seriously missing the balance for me by only like 1%.
Wow, I've typed a lot. I'll just conclude here and say that this film might be the best I've ever seen in my life, and I don't say that lightly - I don't really throw around phrases like that too often. Also, I don't read any Spiderman comics, and my history with the character is basically the Tobey Maguire films/Andrew Garfield films/MCU, as well as the first Spiderverse film. It's amazing to think I got so much out of this film and a "true" fan could somehow get even more.
This is one of the first pieces of media that I've felt compelled to seriously praise and spread good word of mouth on. Go and watch it. Odds are, even if you don't love it, you'll like it, and even if you somehow don't like it, you'll find something to like about it. I don't think that will be the case though. This film juggles a lot of character moments, and mature themes, that there will be something for everyone, and I would consider this to be one of the most accessible, artistic and enjoyable films that I've seen.

Hey fellow teddy fresh fan idk if you’ll see this, but I complimented your hat (teddy fresh beanie w the retro-rainbow patch) and you complimented my full TF drip (quilt sweat suit and plaid snap back) at the local craft market today. I was hoping you could introduce me to your boyfriend he was kinda cute. No hate please no alternative offers please.

ATP Singles

Jarry vs Ruud :

If you watched Geneva last week, you saw the scariest version of Nicolas Jarry that the tour has ever seen. He’s always been a dominant server, but his baseline game seems to have become consistent out of nowhere. That consistency hasn’t come at the expense of his aggressive shot selection either. Somehow, Jarry is ballin and it is a welcome sight.
At the same time that Jarry leveled up, Casper Ruud began finding his form again. He’s been such a consistent performer at times that when he loses, the whole conversation is about him. It all started with a lopsided loss to Shelton in Cincinnati last season. We now see that this is not so bad. He’s lost as a favorite against Daniel, Arnaldi, Struff, and Garin. These losses may seem like issues, but I think it’s just very difficult to maintain a high level on tour. Burnout is real, and we don’t always know the physical condition and motivation of the players. It’s a bit out of character for Ruud, because he has always taken a very professional approach to matches, but as he gets a few major finals and a number of 250 titles under his belt, the pressure of expectations fades. If he never wins another match, his legacy as top player on tour is already cemented. At this point, it’s entirely feasible that his team is looking to peak at the majors, since that would be the last big feather in his cap.
Ruud is playing near his best tennis this week, despite dropping a few sets on the way here. Zhizhen Zhang has become a mainstay on tour which is a pretty great transition from the Challenger level, but him winning a set against Ruud isn’t cause for alarm bells for me. Zhang has a very powerful serve and goes huge on his groundstrokes, so at times he’s just going to be unplayable, and more importantly he’s the type of opponent who is more dangerous on a big point. Jarry is going to bring a similar level of pressure and risk, and after winning in three heroic sets in Geneva he’ll be feeling confident here.
The market for this one opened with Ruud at -214, and it has gone all the way down to -173. I disagree. These are slower conditions, Jarry has played a lot of tennis in the past few weeks, and Ruud is playing well behind his forehand. Jarry’s backhand is more dangerous here, but it feels like a spot where he is even at best. Just considering that Ruud has been given a ton of footage to review with his team makes me think he might return a bit better, and the slower conditions mean the rapid fire baseline rallies they exchanged in Geneva (ultra fast conditions for clay) will be a bit more subdued. We’ve all seen these conditions lend the more stable player an edge as matches drag on, and I think that will be the case here. Jarry’s serve and power can’t be dismissed in straight sets, but I think that this will be an extreme physical test and that Ruud’s ability to create off his forehand will be very useful once both players are tired. Ruud in 5.

Rune vs Cerundolo :

Rune had a simple match against a very similar but weaker player, and he made it look easy. Olivieri couldn’t really get anything going, and Rune was able to remain neutral in rallies until he got a full swing. Once he did, it was usually only 2-3 shots before the point was over. Him being so technically sound makes it really hard for players without a big offense to beat him. It just becomes a matter of whether Rune will put in the work, and his strength and conditioning are very good, and his energy levels are Space Jam stuff at times. Here he has a difficult task, but one I think he can handle. These two met in 2019, with Cerundolo winning in straights. They are two entirely different players now though, and it’s Rune who looks much sharper now.
Cerundolo had a tough test in Taylor Fritz, but I thought fatigue would be the way he lost. He seemed fresh throughout, and that made life very difficult on Fritz. I don’t love Taylor’s demeanor on court when he’s losing, he’s very emotive and complains about the conditions and bad bounces and overall it just gives a lot of belief to an opponent. If you are easily moved by emotions, it’s better to sort of hold it together until it bubbles over. One, because it will gradually let you practice not being so reactive. Two, because a real big rageout scream or racquet smash can change momentum and rattle an opponent. It’s not classy, but when you’re already losing, anything that changes the feel of the match in the court has potential to help. Whining does very little, and the crowd in Paris is not a big fan of that at all. The crowd was fairly respectful, and Fritz’s shushing from his match against Rinderknech did not seem to be an issue with them. McEnroe remarked that most of the fans were probably unfamiliar with Fritz, which is actually absurd, but standard.
The Tennis Channel team does not seem to actively follow the tour, and their view of things is almost always a bit reductive and puzzling. McEnroe also did not seem to know that they had changed the balls this year, and honestly I wind up muting tennis audio far too often because of announcers. It makes it really refreshing actually to hear Gil Gross working a match. Is this an article about Gil Gross? Maybe. Gross seems like a kid who would insist on telling me that baby carrots are actually made from full-sized carrots, but the effort he puts into analyzing tennis and respecting the game is much appreciated. He actually was mid-sentence and said “and I’ll hold that thought because play is about to resume.” What? Unheard of. Announcers not talking over the rallies? Announcers not telling us exactly what we just saw? Announcers teaching us about tennis technique and matchup issues? Announcers not … talking … with weird pauses … because they think … that’s what announcers do? Announcers not leaving out half their sentences because they think we’re listening along to their internal monologue? Announcers who are familiar with the players on tour outside the top 100? Wow. Just wow. Anyway, Gil seems like he’d be fun to do a puzzle with, and I’m glad that he’s getting somewhere in the tennis world because he really seems like a fan of the game.
I don’t think Cerundolo can win this match. Against Fritz, he dominated things behind his dropshot and forehand. Fritz moves forward poorly on clay, something I honestly didn’t realize. He won nearly no rallies where Cerundolo used it. At the same time, he couldn’t get to Cerundolo’s forehand, so what was he covering? The reason he fell victim to both these balls is because he had zero variation on his backhand. Usually when I’m griping about Fritz, I exaggerate a bit, but I don’t think I saw him hit one backhand up the line during a neutral rally. He just kept trying to infuse a little bit of depth and height cross-court, but it became predictable very early on. The backhand up the line is bad because it opens up the cross-court forehand for Cerundolo, but you still have to hit it a good enough chunk of the time to keep your opponent from camping in the backhand corner, which is what Francisco did for the entire match. This just won’t be an option against Rune, because he has a way better backhand than Fritz, and because he has the speed to run down dropshots. He’s also a clay specialist in terms of his background, so he’ll be comfortable in long rallies where Taylor wasn’t.
I think Cerundolo is the Fritz in this matchup, because he has a ton of power but I think he has to look to score all his own points. Rune is fresh, and won’t give him many unforced errors. This should be a very close match in terms of the scoreline, but I think Rune’s speed and stability get him through here. Rune in 4.

Etcheverry vs Nishioka :

Nishioka and Seyboth Wild put on a great show. The Brazilian phenom ran out of gas, but he really gave us a ton of excitement in the first week of this event. For Yoshihito, these points are incredibly useful. He doesn’t have many clay points from last season at all, so this gives him a good chance to improve his ranking in the hardcourt season where he’s sure to win a handful of matches in the hot conditions. I usually find myself talking about what a great result people are having once their tournament is over, and I do think this is Nishioka’s last round. He’s been winning by outlasting his opponent, and there does not seem to be an end to Etcheverry. Coric and Etcheverry were expected to play an exhausting contest, and they did. The difference in power was clear from the start though. Etcheverry plays like a baseliner but he’s 6‘5” and he is really crushing the ball at this tournament. Coric hung tough, but he just couldn’t get a ball by him.
Etcheverry will need to be patient in this match, but I think he can break down Nishioka’s forehand. The loopy returns work well against shorter players, but Etcheverry should be able to lean into them since he’s a bit taller. His edge on serving is also huge, his delivery was a big key in keeping him fresh while Coric struggled to hold serve without putting in a ton of work. Nishioka is crushing his backhand, and that flat pace could prove a bit tough for the taller player, but I don’t see it winning him the match. Overall, I just think these guys have been competing in two different weight classes thus far, and Etcheverry is the pick. Etcheverry in 3-4.

Dimitrov vs Zverev :

Dimitrov is the ultimate trickster. Just when we think he’s too injury prone or too Dimitrov to be a threat on tour, he breaks out his best tennis. He’s been lights out this week, dismissing contenders in good form in a way that throughout most of his career he has never done. This is probably his best chance to beat Zverev, but the last 3 matches have gone Zverev’s way. If I had to guess, it’s because Zverev’s backhand is so stable. He doesn’t really go for a lot with it most of the time, and that means against Dimitrov’s slice he’s completely safe. If we eliminate danger on one wing entirely, then it’s forehands and serves. Zverev’s serve has double fault issues, and his location is poor, but he has a ton of power and returning it is easier said than done. Dimitrov has a huge edge on the forehand here, and he’s using that remarkably well this week.
It’s hard to watch Zverev play and think he’s going to beat Dimitrov. Him and Tiafoe played a solid match, and Tiafoe is a great player, but it wasn’t high quality stuff. The rallies seemed slow, both players seemed to be concentrating (and unfortunately not concentrating) on technique and on hitting the court. The wind and slower conditions just made the game seem slow, and I think the pace ended up frustrating Tiafoe into errors. Dimitrov has the ability to infuse pace off both wings and he’s been doing so this week. It’s the sort of match that I think Zverev is at risk of becoming frozen in. If Dimitrov can get the first set, I think he can win. Grigor has proven to be a dangerous frontrunner this week, and Zverev can get a little deer-in-the-headlights if he’s behind in the scoreline or if his serve isn’t working. I do think Zverev has been a bit more aggressive since his return from injury, so this should be pretty even in my eyes. In classic Dimitrov prankster style though, he has me thinking he’s going to win. Dimitrov in 4-5.

WTA Singles

Swiatek vs Tsurenko :

Ok Iga. I see that you are reading these. After predicting that Wang’s power and offense would get her 6 games, Swiatek chose to deny her a single game. I don’t think I’ve seen this type of blowout tennis ever. 0 games, to someone who beat a solid mid-tier tour player in Peterson. It makes my job easy here, because who can possible beat Swiatek? Rybakina is out of the tournament, everyone else is having to work extremely hard to win their matches, and Swiatek is going to be completely fresh for the quarterfinals. She has a tricky opponent here, because Tsurenko has beaten Krejcikova and Andreescu, but what does it matter? We are left wondering how many games Tsurenko can win, and if we have time to make a sammich and still make it back in time to catch the first set.
Tsurenko is very solid, and moves the ball well. Picture an Alize Cornet with a little more power and a bit less physicality. She’ll be a good opponent for Swiatek because there’ll be fewer unforced errors than Wang made, but it feels like Swiatek is not going to lose to her own errors and Tsurenko can’t serve well enough to hold onto any leads she may get. Swiatek in 2, with Tsurenko winning 4-5 games.

Sorribes Tormo vs Haddad Maia :

Puzzling line on this one as Sorribes Tormo is at just +120 for the match. I expected something more like +160. SST has been given a walkover after Rybakina withdrew with an illness. Haddad Maia had to play an extra match and it was a war with Alexandrova that she barely won, but I think she’s more well equipped to score in this matchup. Tormo has every shot in the book, and will extend rallies, but her serve isn’t as strong as Haddad Maia’s, and she doesn’t really hit the ball hard enough to get through the court. I’m guessing I don’t see something here, as SST has won the last few matches between the pair, and they’re ranked 120 spots apart so there’s a matchup issue I’m not seeing. Very hesitant to go with my gut on this one, but Haddad Maia has the defensive ability to hang even with Sorribes Tormo, and I think her forehand will give her the ability to create as the match drags on. Haddad Maia in 3.

Schmiedlova vs Gauff :

There have been a lot of matches this week where things were decided early. Both players seem very willing to engage in extended baseline rallies in the early going, but as one player proves slightly more resilient, their opponents have slowly deviated into trying to generate offense on more and more shots. This might be a decent plan B on hardcourt, but it’s near impossible on clay. If you could just smoke the ball and create angles and hit through the court, you’d be doing it as plan A, and you’d be a top 5 player. As it happened today, Kayla Day turned towards forcing things a bit. Schmiedlova was very steady to start the match and she hits a bit bigger than Day, so it wasn’t the worst choice, but it resulted in the scoreline getting out of hand quickly. In the second, Day made some progress and broke back a few times, but she couldn’t get ahead in rallies and that makes holding serve in the WTA very difficult because almost everyone on tour is tremendous returner.
Gauff had a ridiculously tough test in round one. Mirra Andreeva is so technically sound at such a young age. She really was slightly better in the first set because of it. Gauff made a few neutral ball errors that Andreeva just didn’t. It was clear though that Gauff was the bigger hitter. After winning the first in a thrilling tiebreak, Gauff was a bit looser. Having the pressure of the lead gone can be tough, but it also lets you swing freer. It became clear that Andreeva couldn’t hit through Gauff, and the match became a lopsided affair. This is the big hallmark of Gauff’s game, improving as the match goes on. Her training is great to be so strong physically, and her backhand, when she lets it fly, is a laser. If you let the ball get above her elbow height, she’s likely to just hit a clean winner. This next match is tricky because it’ll take a long time, but Gauff should be slightly stronger again. Schmiedlova has been playing solid tennis but she’s been the bigger hitter in most of the matches, and here it’s even. Expecting Gauff to win in two close sets.

Pera vs Jabeur :

This is a career changing run from Bernarda Pera. The clay ELO is proving accurate here, as she was able to outlast Elisabetta Cocciaretto in a wildly thrilling match. In the end, she was just a little more able to win short points, and her forehand cross is proving to be a big weapon when she’s on her game. It’s a big ask for her to beat Jabeur with that shot, especially since Ons has just gotten some invaluable training against another lefty. Olga Danilovic managed to push things to a third, but the problem with winning behind a big offense on clay becomes clear in a third. Jabeur has a ton of power and experience, and she’s fairing well this week. I do think that if Danilovic can win a set, Pera should be able to, but thus far Pera has been the bigger hitter in her matches and I’m curious to see how she trades power with Jabeur. She’ll have a bit of confidence at least, since she won their previous hardcourt meeting (too many seasons ago to be completely relevant) in straight sets. I just think Jabeur will be able to rush Pera and it will make all the difference. Jabeur in 2.

As a longtime Nuggets fan, it’s immensely frustrating that there have been no team-colored Finals or stock Nuggets fitted caps available since before the ECF completed online. As I search daily, I’m inundated with FB ads from the New Era site for hats that are sold out. NBA Shop and Attitude Authentics (Ball Arena Store) also had very little stock and are now sold out.
Considering the HUNDREDS of drops coming out weekly for all of the collectofashion caps on their site and the Hat Club-type sites, I find it hard to believe that New Era does not have capacity to restock their own F’ing site, plus the league store for a team in the NBA Finals RIGHT NOW.

Hallo there, now that you fell for my clickbait have a seat and keep reading.
I'm looking for new snail mail (or maybe email) connections who are willing to withstand my crappy handwriting and are interested in stuff like language exchanges or languages in general, food and how to cook it, weird movies and where to find them and stuff in general.
A fair warning: I 've never really been into crafting, decorating or designing letters, I was a fan of the writing idea not so much the crafty one. (for email I could use a different font color though)
I had a couple of penpals years ago and quite enjoyed it but after growing up and moving around I lost track of most connections and it was hard to find any new. And the older I got the less people I could find to have a great exchange. For me, penpaling has always been writing letters by hand and exchanging ideas, cultures, and languages. Sending tiny postcards, national dish recipes, or complete texts in foreign language if both parties were interested in language exchange.
So let's see if any of you are interested into that old school, plain paper handwriting or plain electronic mail.
Currently I'm mostly looking for people from
(LE: language exchange, I'm currently learning the language or want to in the future or want to refresh my knowledge, offering German)
Baltic countries
Norway(LE)
Finnland(LE)
Faroe Island(LE)
Mongolia(after receiving a book about mongolian language, I suddenly became fascinated in it),
Korea(LE at some point)
Italy(LE)
Canada (if you have knowledge of Mohawk, drop me line)
Short intro: I'm 36, male, from Berlin, Germany. Working in IT and trying to finish my second bachelor thesis in Scandinavian Studies and Historical Linguistics. My interests are mostly languages, cultures, food, cooking, movies, books, travelling...
cheers!

Hallo there, now that you fell for my clickbait have a seat and keep reading.
I'm looking for new snail mail (or maybe email) connections who are willing to withstand my crappy handwriting and are interested in stuff like language exchanges or languages in general, food and how to cook it, weird movies and where to find them and stuff in general.
A fair warning: I 've never really been into crafting, decorating or designing letters, I was a fan of the writing idea not so much the crafty one. (for email I could use a different font color though)
I had a couple of penpals years ago and quite enjoyed it but after growing up and moving around I lost track of most connections and it was hard to find any new. And the older I got the less people I could find to have a great exchange. For me, penpaling has always been writing letters by hand and exchanging ideas, cultures, and languages. Sending tiny postcards, national dish recipes, or complete texts in foreign language if both parties were interested in language exchange.
So let's see if any of you are interested into that old school, plain paper handwriting or plain electronic mail.
Currently I'm mostly looking for people from
(LE: language exchange, I'm currently learning the language or want to in the future or want to refresh my knowledge, offering German)
Baltic countries
Norway(LE)
Finnland(LE)
Faroe Island(LE)
Mongolia(after receiving a book about mongolian language, I suddenly became fascinated in it),
Korea(LE at some point)
Italy(LE)
Canada (if you have knowledge of Mohawk, drop me line)
Short intro: I'm 36, male, from Berlin, Germany. Working in IT and trying to finish my second bachelor thesis in Scandinavian Studies and Historical Linguistics. My interests are mostly languages, cultures, food, cooking, movies, books, travelling...
cheers!

I don’t know if it’s just me or what but I feel out of all the one piece community types whether powerscalers sanji fans luffy fans shanks/Mihawk fans, I feel as if zoro heads are the most toxic, most hard headed, and blatantly believe zoro is top tier above luffy SOMEHOW and have seen the worst talking points for why from this group just as bad if not worse as the “goku could beat him” ppl

I’ve seen a few comments about it and I feel that is a little bit toxic for the community. For example, I have felt discouraged to learn Portuguese just because my native language is spanish, and I know I shouldn't care about what they say and I don't but the feeling is still there. I do understand that might be just a few people doing it.
An example I saw was in a post about the most impressive polyglot, somebody mentions Luca Lampariello and someone answered by giving less credit to him just because his list is composed of a lot of romance languages and his native language is Italian. But I don't think that person understands how hard a language can be even if that language is “related” to yours. I’m not a fan of Luca or anything but I have seen this before like trying to put down a person just because.
I just want to know some opinion about it.

I saw the giveaway posts for travel the words a while ago, not really knowing hear it was. In fact I even misread the name as travel the worlds. And even when I looked at the pictures I still wasn't sure what the hell I was looking at. It wasn't until I downloaded the demo and tried out the 3 puzzles available. I thought it was really fun. It does have a few little quirks it would be nice to see worked out, and I'll get into those later, but overall it was a pretty nice experience.
I later showed my brother, who is 10 years old, not a fan of word searches, and just didn't care for it and went back to playing re8 (ik he's 10 and playing re8 but he's handling it surprisingly well. Only part that even kind of freaked him out was beneviento)
Then I showed my mom, a big fan of word searches. She said, and I quote "I wish real life word searches were as fun as this" and then my mom, who hates video games and has only liked a very select few VR games, bought her first video game. Travel the words. It was cheap and came with a bunch more puzzles and she was totally into it. Her favorites have been Kitchen, Wild West, and The Market (The Market is in the demo)
If it wasn't clear already, Travel the Words is a word search game. You spawn into this place and you have a giant wall of text in front of you. There are the words on the side you have to find, and you have a laser pointer to find them and cross them out. You're in a cool little environment with some ambient nose playing to fit the theme (like in the mines level which is available in the demo there's like cave drops). Also when you find a word there are some fun facts about the word. You are able to turn fun facts or ambience off if you find either one of them annoying.
That leads me to my small complaints. I know the devs are on this sub based on the posts a while ago so I hope you guys read this and take it into consideration.

1. The pointer is very finicky. It can be hard to press down on the right word. Also, because the words that aren't a first or last latter do literally nothing when you highlight them, it's pretty easy to just spam the trigger until you find a word without putting too much thought into it. A good solution would probably be letting you highlight in any direction on any words but it just sort of does nothing unless it's an actual word.
2. This one is the most minor, but I think a limit on the hints would help. Make it like 5. Hints are supposed to be a tool if you get stuck, not an automatic win. Also, if there is already a limit on hints, my bad. I've never used more than 5.
3. Settings menu. Or just a couple small options. There should probably be a setting for player height (looking up to see the whole board starting hurting after around 45 minutes). Also, you should be able to choose whether fun facts are automatically on or off. Same thing with ambience. Another big one would be to add an option for colors for the crossed out letters. On some board they can be overwhelming, and the white colors can be hard to see. Just an option in the settings for either "Default" or "Select a color" would be nice. For examplez the red ones tend to stand out. Changing them to be all red would be fool
4. It would be cool if the game didn't start in the same position every time. It made it so when I was showing it off to different people I already knew where everything was. Having it be randomly shuffled each time you load in woud be cool.
5. Why is there foveated rendering? I don't feel like the game fully needs it. This one isn't as much of a complaint as I am just gejinpt curious. Because if you are able to achieve a really sharp image on the level of walkabout (which you do) with foveated, then it would be interesting to see how good walkabout would look with it. Just wondering. Not a complaint. More games need to show this off anyway.
6. When one hand is in use, the other one should be disabled, like walkabout. There is no need for 2 hands.

It seems like I hate the game. I don't. I think it's really fun. It has some serious merit and is for the most part a pretty polished experience. Never had a lag or a crash. And I've had a great time, and my mom had a really great time. The game just had a couple of small quirks it would be cool to see worked out, and maybe either some free or paid dlc down the line to add more puzzles would be greatm I think I'd pay like a dollar for a new puzzle every once in a while. Considering how many possibilities there are with shuffle it would be very worth it.
Thanks devs, great game. And a pretty big portion of it in the demo. Keep up the great work!

Hi everyone.
To Kill a Predator is a work of fan fiction set in the Nature of Predators universe originally created by SpacePaladin15 whose Patreon you should subscribe to.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Depiction does not equal endorsement.
Hope you enjoy it!
[First] [Previous]
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Memory transcription subject: Martin Russo, Human Refugee
Date [standardized human time]: November 30th, 2136
​
“Wait”. The voice is so sudden I don’t even realize it’s my own at first.
Mosun looks up at me, confused. I’m confused too. Thiva’s right in there. I want to storm in, but there’s something wrong, there’s
A recording of a crying baby
I shake my head and step back, motioning for him to follow me.
Another scream echoes through the hall. Mosun swallows, but lets go of the handle.
Think. You’re in charge of a bunch of terrorists all gung-ho to go Helter Skelter on humanity. You’re a sadistic alien psychopath. You mutilate animals. You keep trophies. You don’t give a damn about your sister. You kill humans. Your tools for that are firebombs that go off when they open doors, and recordings of vulnerable things in distress.
But why here? Why set the trap here? Taking her to a second location makes more sense. Why your base, or this close to it? Why are you luring the human here?
It’s not because he’s here too soon. You expected the warpath right away. You know their empathy and protective instincts overrides their rationality. You might not have expected him to gather a posse, but you know the humans are social animals. You had to know it was a possibility.
So why… Here…
Mosun whispers. “Martin, what’s the matter? Why aren’t we going in?”
There’s something I’m missing. Think. Think! You were happy to get the first human kills while you weren’t even in the area. You might’ve placed the traps or had your mooks do it but either way you were fine with being absent when they went off. Why is this time different?
It’s because the humans were gathered in one place, isn’t it? The fire wasn’t about killing us. It was about scattering us and leaving us solitary enough to hunt. Or maybe... Maybe it didn’t satisfy, didn’t scratch that itch. No trophies, no mutilations.
Because you are a predator. An ambush predator. You want to be close to the trap, like a spider. You want to look the human in the eyes as he dies, and take something to remember the kill by.
You’re here, somewhere.
​
I swallow, and look at the door. It slides open, like almost all Venlil doors.
Alright, time to Human.
I take the strap to my rifle, and gingerly unsling it from the weapon. I grab one of my last zip ties and loop it around the handle, and in the buckle of the strap.
Mosun flicks his ear in a Venlil-esque sign for understanding and agreement at once, and moves down the hallway. I follow him.
The strap and zip-tie together are perhaps two meters in length, so with a bit of an annoyed grunt I take off my belt and add that to the makeshift rope. That gives me a little under a meter extra.
I hand the rifle to Mosun, and hold a hand up to him while clutching the rope in the other.
Three. Two. One.
I close my eyes and turn away in one single motion, tugging at the door handle. As soon as the door parts from the frame there’s a blast, sending me and Mosun to the ground. The air stinks of wood-pulp, smoke, and dust.
Jesus Christ!!
My ears are ringing as I get on my unsteady feet and grasp the rifle from Mosun, stumbling my way to the ruined doorway and peering inside.
The room is empty but for shrapnel and debris and a cloud of dust. None of it looks like it was alive.
Oh thank God, the bastards weren’t using live bait.
With the high-pitched ringing slowly subsiding I take a few steps down the hall, before falling to one knee from disorientation.
I don’t hear the Exterminator storm up the stairs. But I see them just fine.
​
The visor’s reflective. The armor’s bulky. The flamethrower’s lit.
With Mosun behind me in the small hallway, there’s nowhere to run. No time to think.
This isn’t aiming at someone’s back, or a sleeping and prone body. I don’t have time to hesitate, so I don’t.
I start shooting from the hip and raise the gun to my shoulder while firing. The weapon jumps in my hand with each pull of the trigger, and from my awkward stance I have quantity stand in for quality. Wood splinters fly from the wall behind the Exterminator, who jerks as some of the shots strike true.
After swaying for a second and losing their grip on their flamethrower, they tumble right down the stairs. The weapon clatters down after them, connected to their fuel tank.
I get to my feet and try to rush over to the stairs. I slam into the wall for my trouble, but get my bearings and raise the rifle.
The Exterminator’s laying prone at the foot of the stairs. They stir weakly and move a paw toward their weapon.
I fire another salvo of rounds. The sound echoes and makes my ears hurt even worse than the blast already did. The Exterminator jerks a couple of times, lets out a shuddering breath, and then goes still.
They’re dead. This is it. I killed someone.
I expect it to hit me like a sledgehammer. I expect to end up doubled over, hurling my guts out. That’s what you always see in the movies.
Instead my response is as anticlimactic as the killing itself: I just hope it was Renak.
​
I feel Mosun’s hand on my back. He speaks with quiet sympathy. “…Are you alright?”
I sigh slowly. “Yeah… Yeah. Predator, remember?”
Some of his usual energy creeps back into his voice. “Oh, I see how it is. You get to say it.”
We head down the stairs while I fiddle with my makeshift rope to restore my belt and rifle sling to their proper places. The sling needs to be tied into a knot to be put to use, as the buckle is beyond saving. “Yeah. I’m sure I’ll break down later, but for now we have a- MOVE!!”
I see a cylinder about half the size of a Pringles can roll into the room, and push Mosun forcibly into the kitchen. To his credit he doesn’t question it, instead lunging past me.
Instead of a pipe bomb blast as I had feared, the grenade starts leaking thick white smoke.
They don’t have CS gas and that thing looked homemade. So probably phosphorous.
I look around the kitchen desperately before finding a salad bowl in the dishes. I immediately turn the faucet to full blast to fill the bowl with water while the hissing grenade spreads its noxious fumes. I can start to smell and taste the acrid, garlic-like stench. My body starts coughing, my eyes watering and lungs itching.
Yeah. Phosphorous. Fuck.
Mosun coughs a few times and tries to cover his mouth with his arm. “What are you d-doing?!”
As soon as there’s enough water in the bowl, I turn around and lunge at the grenade. Using an awkward double-handed dunking motion, I trust centripetal force to make it work as I flip the water-filled bowl and slam it down around the grenade.
There’s a mess of sloshing, and a lot of hissing, but no more gas escapes. Water slowly starts to leak out from the bowl’s edges, but by the time it’s done it’ll have stopped the reaction.
“Mosun, w-wash your… Oh FUCK OFF!!”
Halfway through my statement I see another Exterminator enter the room. They step over their fellow’s body without a glance and raise their flamethrower toward us.
I raise my rifle in turn and begin firing: three shots in rapid succession.
Before I’ve had time to adjust my aim they’ve already disappeared from view down the hallway beside the stairs, long tail visible for a split second before vanishing. I’ve never seen a Venlil move as sinuously and quickly as that.
​
I cough a couple of times and wipe my eyes. It doesn’t help. When Mosun appears with a glass of water however, I can dump it directly onto my face. My stinging eyes cry out with relief.
After just a few seconds of exposure to the gas, I’d love a date with an eyewash station. But it’ll have to wait.
Mosun takes the lead wordlessly, motioning with a paw for me to follow. So I do, stepping over my kill in the process. Unlike the Exterminator, I can’t help but look down at it.
There’s so much less blood than I expected.
As Mosun rounds the corner into the next room, he’s forced into an awkward duck against the doorway as a stun rod swishes through the air. He kicks out at the assailant with a growl, and lunges forward into the other room.
I follow as quickly as I can.
In the living room, the two are already locked in a brawl. Mosun’s shorter than the Exterminator, and has less range.
I make a guess and try to distract them. If the Yotul gives me some distance I can shoot. “Renak!”
The Exterminator freezes for a split second, and Mosun gets a good kick in.
Guess that’s you then, motherfucker.
Renak rolls with the kick and manages to get Mosun’s leg caught in his arm. The stun rod swings down, and Mosun’s forced to block it with his arm. The electricity courses through him and he gasps out, dropping to a knee.
Without a good angle, I drop the rifle and trust my sling to keep it from hitting the ground. Instead I charge in to join the fray.
​
With a wild and poorly planned left hook, I manage to get Renak to take a single step back. Enough for Mosun to rise to unsteady legs. The little badass weaves a few times as he moves into an elegant-looking stance. “Ambush, ambush, ambush. You only know the one trick, huh?”
In response, Renak drops into his own stance. The stun rod’s held in one paw, high near his shoulder. The other paw’s held outward in a warding gesture.
Feeling left out, I get into a boxer’s stance. Though all this excitement’s making the wounds on my right arm ache and act up.
The three of us are still for a moment. “…There’s just you left, Renak. Your terrorist group’s done for.” Technically there’s one other Exterminator left unaccounted for. But I don’t see a reason to tell him that.
He tilts his head toward me for a second. I see myself reflected in the visor.
Mosun’s the first to move, lunging in low. I charge in right after. Renak doesn’t step back, instead swinging the rod down.
Mosun leans back so far he’s almost prone, using his tail and one arm as leverage to kick up at Renak’s arm and stop the descending blow. The movement is beautiful, and wouldn’t look out of place in some sort of Capoeira. By all rights it should break the arm, but the heavy Exterminator armor takes most of the force.
I come in with my own simple straight punch with my left, but I overextend and Renak swats it aside sharply with his own free arm. Instead of relenting, I jab with my right. I catch him on the shoulder and do little damage.
Renak shifts his stance and raises his baton to swing it downward at me. Mosun moves to intercept, but Renak’s leg lashes out and catches Mosun’s knee from the side. The swing that was coming my way turns into a descending thrust at the Yotul, who gets the baton jabbed straight into his torso.
Mosun’s shriek fills the room as he thrashes under the coruscating electrical blow, and I strike Renak with everything I’ve got in a desperate and unrefined haymaker.
I catch the bastard right in the visor and hear a loud sound. It hurts. Renak staggers back with a yelp, dropping the stun rod, and turns to look squarely at me. I’ve cracked his visor, and probably broken a finger or two in the bargain.
I stare for the length of a breath at the cracks in the reflective surface, seeing my own rage reflected in a dozen fractured images.
​
Renak calmly reaches behind him and pulls out his sidearm. He doesn’t even glance aside as he extends his arm and puts two bullets into Mosun. The gunshots echo in the enclosed space.
“NO!!” I hear myself shouting as I fumble for my rifle. Renak turns his arm toward me and fires again. I hear the crack and a whistle as a bullet flies right past my head.
A second bullet whizzes past and strikes the door frame, tumbling past with a ricochet whine. It missed only because I’m falling to one knee.
With my own rifle raised, I return fire. We’re firing at each other from mere feet away. I fire three times. I miss the first shot, but the second hits him in the thigh. The third takes him in the side somewhere.
He’s spun around, but empties the gun in my direction as he staggers into a dash out of the room, toward the basement.
It’s only when I rise to my feet that I realize I’ve been shot too. My left leg burns, and can’t carry my weight. I awkwardly hop over to Mosun and kneel to investigate his wounds.
​
His collarbone’s been shattered by one bullet. Another has caught him on the inside of the shoulder. I don’t know Yotul anatomy, but I’m guessing if it’s caught a lung or an artery he’s in real trouble. “Come on, you can’t leave me alone here; you’re the only one I can talk to.”
He takes a slow breath and doesn’t even bother trying to get up. He simply looks at me and plainly says “Ow.”
I can breathe again. The wound’s leaking, but not spurting. Oh thank God.
“Christ, okay, we gotta get you out of here. I don’t think it’s immediately fatal, but the blood loss is gonna get you if we don’t stop it.”
“Later. Get him, then help.”
I shake my head. “I can’t just-”
He swats at me with his good arm. “Not safe to extract. And still need the girl.”
I look around and end up taking a blanket folded over the couch and handing it to him. “Press this into the wounds, as hard as you can. I’ll be back.”
“Y-You better be. I’ll be upset if you m-make me walk back to the truck on my own.”
I get up and grasp my rifle, and limp my way after Renak.
Unless he’s got another ambush planned in the basement, Thiva is his last chance. And the bastard knows it.
​
I make my way down the basement steps, but it’s slow going. I have to use my injured right arm to brace myself, holding the rifle ahead with the left. My adrenaline’s starting to go down enough that the leg is starting to really hurt. So’s my left hand.
At the foot of the stairs, Renak’s discarded the helmet. The room contains several boxes of explosives, and flamethrowers.
Their weapons stores. Great.
In the middle of the room there’s a chair. Bound to it is Thiva. She’s got cuts and bruises over her body, and her beautiful fur is matted orange all over.
Behind her stands Renak. He’s got a knife to her throat.
I raise the rifle and stare right at Renak. “Let the girl go.”
Thiva gasps out as she sees me. “Martin!” She tries to lean forward, but the blade presses harder into her neck and she shrinks back into the chair.
Renak stares back at me, head-on and with both eyes. When he speaks, his voice is emotionless and without inflection. He sounds bored. “Move a muscle, predator, and Thiva dies.”
I look at my friend. She looks terrified. “Hey Thiva, don’t worry. I’m here. Everything’s gonna be fine. Alright?”
She gives the tiniest nod.
Renak growls. “Look at me, predator.”
My eyes shift back to his again. They’re dull and empty. Just black beads of glass set into his face. It’s like looking at a machine. A complex structure, but no soul animating it.
My leg is trembling, and I feel hot and sticky blood running down it. “You don’t need the girl. You can just let her go, and we can leave, and nobody else needs to die.”
He blinks slowly. “My sister is better off dead than as a predator’s mate. If I can’t save her body from you, I can save her honor.” To emphasize his point, he lets the knife dig further into her throat. I see some orange running down it, and the fur beneath Thiva’s eyes are damp with tears.
My breathing is heavy, and my aim is shaky. “I stormed a terrorist compound to get this far. I’m not leaving without her. You can have her over my dead body.”
​
He stares silently for a moment. “Fair enough.”
He raises his other arm toward me with a smooth and mechanical motion. His sidearm is in it.
I pull the trigger.
The bullet takes him in the head. With his strings cut, he drops in a heap.
​
I drop the rifle and rush forward to undo Thiva’s bindings. As soon as I do, her arms fly around me painfully tightly. I return the hug as best I can.
“Thiva, listen to me. Can you walk?”
She gets up and winces, but nods. “Y-yeah.”
“Okay, good. There’s a Yotul upstairs named Mosun. He needs immediate medical attention. We’ve got a truck waiting, we’re gonna head up and get both of you out there.”
One of her eyes suddenly moves up and stares behind me. I turn in place.
Vansi’s standing in stairway, taking in the scene.
“Thiva… Go. Now. Now!” I rise to my feet and put a hand on her back, walking alongside her for a few steps before she rushes the rest of the way past her mother and up the stairs.
Vansi doesn’t move to stop her. She just stares at the crumpled corpse behind us.
It’s only after I take another step that her eyes snap to me with fury.
And I realize my rifle’s right at her feet.
​
She snatches it up into trembling paws and aims it right at me.
“Vansi, listen, I-”
The weapon goes off.
I fall to my knees. My hands reach my stomach and feel sticky and wet.
She pulls the trigger again, and it clicks dry. She pulls another few times, but it’s empty.
​
I rise to my feet and try to lunge past her. But she simply swings the empty rifle at me. It hits my wounded stomach, and I fall to my side. She swings it down on me several more times, snarling and cursing, until the weapon breaks enough that she simply tosses what’s left aside.
It hurts. Jesus Christ it hurts so fucking bad.
I try to think of a way out of this as she staggers past me toward her son. I try to get to my feet again, but fail. I drag myself to the wall, and use it to pull myself up bit by bit. I limp along the wall, smearing trails of my own blood with my hands as I go.
I’m almost at the stairs when I hear an inarticulate scream and feel agony blooming out from my right side. I look down and see the knife, in Vansi’s paws.
Fuck.
​
I collapse on the ground and try to fend her off with my hands. She stabs me straight through the palm of my right hand, then stabs twice more at my left arm and shoulder. My left arm doesn’t respond to my signals, simply flopping down limply.
With only one chance left, I punch her with my right. Again and again, while she stabs at my torso.
There’s a cold math to blood loss. The more you lose, the weaker you get.
‘So you see, that's how I am going to die.’
Each of my blows does less than the last. My hands and feet feel ice cold, while my chest burns.
‘I'll sneeze in the sunlight, or turn my head a bit too fast when someone wants my attention from my blind spot’
Before long I can’t fight back. I simply lay still and hear my flesh tearing and Vansi screaming in my ears.
‘or show happiness with a smile or a laugh’
I can’t lift a finger or even turn my head as Vansi staggers off of me. My shallow breaths are agony, and I can feel one of my lungs has collapsed.
‘or god forbid I might try to save a life again.’
She returns with something else in her hands. I close my eyes.
‘And then someone like your son will show up and burn me alive for it.’
/// ERROR /// Memory transcription fragmented /// Subject no longer conscious.
---
[First] [Previous]

Hi, I am Baz, from the UK and I am just looking to make some new long term friends to play For Honor and Destiny 2 with, I dont mind how good or bad you are at either game, just please dont add me if you only want to play as a one time thing, I lost all my good friends a while ago now and have just spent my time hopping through Discord servers trying to find friends that way, and hasnt worked out, so instead I hope I can find some nice friends here instead.
I dont mind what kind of content we do on Destiny, I like to play everything, I only recently started playing Destiny again so i have only just hit the hard cap on my gear (1800), but I am down to try raiding, doing dungeons, grandmasters, or just chilling on the campaign or exotic quests! I also love playing gambit, unpopular opinion I know haha, and even though im really really bad at it, I enjoy playing crucible, just dont expect me to perform there :^)
On For Honor I am really bad at the game and am looking for a friend or group of friends to play and get better with, for me this game is incredible if you play it with a friend and isnt fun if you play it alone. I like to play Centurion and Shugoki.
Im a big fan of fighting games of fighting games when I have someone to play them with, so maybe we could also try another one together? I have SFV on Steam and I have the Xbox Game Pass so we could play one from there like GG Strive.
If you think we could make good friends, or just want to try talking or playing together, please add me and lets chat x) my Discord is Baz#6492 or you can message me on Reddit and I will try to remember to look.

Sincerely
Ba-doh, ba-doh, ba-doh, ba-doh-ba
Sincerely, oh yes, sincerely
'Cause I love you so dearly, please say you'll be mine
-The Moonglows
Part I - The End
This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening. If I keep saying it maybe it will be true.
But it was happening. Tough times. Humpty Dumpty times. Out of gas in the desert with no bars times.
And, just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse than a Tijuana root canal; she walked in. Out of the sweltering Mexican heat, into the dim bar, she came; the only thing standing between me and the blinding light. I heard a couple of gunshots somewhere in the distance.
I still remember how the sun illuminated my 2pm rise and shine, shit-faced full of no caffeine afternoon after, hair of the dog; tequila shot and beer. Like I said, tough times on the Ponderosa, Hoss.
Every time I think of that moment, I stand transfixed in time. Unable to move, frozen in-place tighter than a suckered kid’s tongue to a Chicago lamppost in a February ice storm. Maggie had long ago won my heart’s devotion only to betray both me, and it, in ways still inconceivable to my sauce pan of a brain.
So, a couple of months ago, my life in post-apocalyptic ruin, I did what any red-blooded American would do; I flew across the border to CDMX to drown my sorrows in tequila and cheap living. And now, incomprehensibly, here she was; back, again like the September monsoon. Had the bitch air tagged me?
It seemed with Maggie my heart’s devotion was not enough. Everything she wanted and received soon became a dull knife; just ain’t cutting. Mags had to have it all, all the time. And I thought she had gotten all of me and more. Who’d think she’d want to pick at the carcass? But inexplicably, there she was like my constant migraine, the one that never really left the base of my skull.
Without a word Mags swooped in close like she missed me and now hadda kiss me.
Then, quicker than lightning showing off, she plunged her delicate-boned hand deep into my chest. She then removed it with even greater alacrity holding it high above her jet-black mane. She waved it for all the bar to see, my still beating corazón in it, color-coordinating against it’s will with her manicure, making what looked like vague Italian gestures.
Nobody in the bar paid us any mind.
I, on the other hand, couldn’t help but avert my horrified gaze into my now exposed chest cavity, only to witness darkness within darkness gazing back at me.
“Heyyyyyy,” a voiceless voice greeted and saluted.
I looked up at Maggie. She took the seat opposite mine. Then reaching over with her free hand commandeered my tequila and knocked it back quick. Her encore was to grab my beer and drain it with all the mud she could muster into my eye. Then, with a satisfied look she dropped the now emptied bottle on the wooden table hard enough to make a thud.
Maggie then met my stare. My cardia beating peripatetically in her freshly manicured right-hand she made an elaborate shrug, her face smug as a tyrant’s fart.
I remembered wondering what the fuck was keeping my cardio so vascular. It sure as fuck wasn’t clean living. Then, that voiceless voice had yet more to say.
“Now what, Spenser?” it asked.
Now, it was now my turn to shrug. Surprisingly, despite being a now certifiably heartless son of a bitch, I, too, had something to say. So, I said it.
“You’re fucking diabolical, Maggie.”
My words of judgment echoed clear, permeating deep into the abyss, then back again at Maggie. She caught my words easier than a kitten catches smiles. She just shrugged again. It was starting to get annoying.
“You ruined me,” I added just to be doing something.
The shrug undulated down from her tan and toned shoulder through her arm, finally coming to a full stop at her finger’s tips.
Waving my heart at me with more vague Italian gestures Mags asked, “How can you be so sure, Spenser?”
Part II – The Middle
Sincerely, oh you know how I love you
I'll do anything for you, please say you'll be mine
...
This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening. My new mantra wasn’t working.
Six months ago, I thought Maggie was the answer to my dreams.
Swooping down like an angel to shower me with attention and affection. Dinners with wine. Hot sex. More hot sex. No strings attached. Getting to know you pillow talk.
Now, there’s one thing I need to add. I met her through a dating app but as it turned out we both worked for the same nonprofit. We didn’t know each other as it’s a fairly big company but it turned out I supported the code for both her projects. This turned out to be one of many coincidences.
We both hated our jobs. We both liked writing short stories but never could sell a thing despite writing dozens and dozens. We both could dance salsa, on 1 and 2 and loved to hablar en español que no era muy guapo.
We both wanted to run away to Mexico city and live the Bohemian life.
Coincidences like we both grew up in NYC and had issues with our respective families of origin. And while she was Chinese-American and I was Russian-American both our fathers were born in the same year and were obsessed with Woody Allen. We both had much younger siblings we didn’t speak to.
Yeah, we had both grown up with weak fathers and selfish narcissistic mothers in common. And worser still, we had both experienced unstable living situations in high school. In my case, I was kicked out of the house for smoking weed.
In Maggie’s case, I never really was sure what went down but the best I could get out of her was at 13 she got pissed at her mom for cheating on her dad and left the house with nowhere to go. She ended up with family friends or relatives but the details were always murky and I was not the nosey type.
Her words to me were, “My mother’s emotional IQ is low. I raised myself.”
Impressively, she had made it through the Ivy League and seemed to be someone down to earth I could spend time with. But truth be told from the minute I saw her profile picture I was hotter than a Texas chili sprout for her.
It was some kind of primal attraction I thought I was long past entertaining. It wasn’t lust. It wasn’t love. It was like the thought of coming home to a family I never knew I had or that even could exist.
This shit made old me feel like young me again. But, as oft is the case in life, there was a problem. I was old, broke and probably about to lose my job. I was in IT and I was having problems with my manager being a psychopath; for reals.
It wasn’t mere conjecture as he had a reputation of getting people fired, or worse, making their lives so miserable they would quit; even with no prospects. I had been the focus of his sabotaging efforts and it had been having a bad effect on my mental and physical well-being.
This had taken a turn for the worse and I was catching a lot of passive aggressive hostility on the project Maggie supported.
Anyway, she was the bright spot in my otherwise mostly solitary and emotionally bleak life. And she lived nearby. She had an ex and kids and shared custody but I never met them and she didn’t really talk much about it except to say once, “You should need a license to have kids.”
I never had quite known what to make of some of the things she said, but like I said, I was under her spell. And I liked it.
And the icing on top? I had a dominant kinky side and that was a fire Maggie poured gasoline on every chance she got. She was worse than an arsonist in Underoo Town.
One weird thing about Mags was her knitting habit. If we weren’t fucking or eating she was knitting. Even at restaurants and bars.
One day in November, with the sun golden in a sky so blue you thought you could touch it I asked, “What are you knitting?”
Maggie gave me a wry look. She got out of her chair and seemed to be examining my bald head which I had shaved just that morning.
“A hat,” she replied.
But as the holidays rolled around things started to change. One Sunday morning as we were having coffee Maggie looked around the crowded steamy café.
“Everybody’s hooking up for the holidays,” she remarked.
I didn’t really know what to do with that one so I let it be.
But as the days went on there was a change in the weather. Fewer texts. Less sex. Maggie going out of town to some vague destination. Sending me sexy pictures of herself in Santa outfits after I caught the flu during Christmas.
A few days after Christmas I got a text late one night.
“Is it okay if I come by?”
“Very okay,” was my reply.
Maggie showed up with chocolate, red wine and the hat she had been knitting. Orange Afghani wool softer than a golden retriever’s fur. She put the hat on my head and then removed all my clothes.
“Let’s celebrate Christmas, Spenser.”
And, we did.
When we were done and lying head-to-head, I said, “I love my hat.”
Maggie said, “I made it especially for you. No matter what, don’t lose it.”
It was another one of those weird Maggie things she said, like, “I used to shoplift,” and shit like that.
I nodded.
“Promise me you’ll hold on to your hat, Spenser.”
“I promise.”
Maggie observed my face, then nodded as if confirming something to herself.
“Okay.”
Then we did that thing again.
That was the pinnacle. Things quickly went downhill for no reason I could discern. Texts unanswered and when answered; kind of abrupt-like. Being unavailable. Stuff with her kids. Time away in Connecticut for some vague reason. After that I began feeling like the weakest card in a gambler’s hand.
But Maggie kept shoe horning me in at odd times, giving me just enough crumbs to keep me on the hook. And as we rode the roller coaster down everything always seemed to center around alcohol. And sex. More and more debauched sex. Finally, by New Year’s Eve things were getting straight-up weird no chaser.
“You know that thing we talked about?”
By her tone I knew what she meant. I nodded cautiously.
“You want to try it?”
Maggie dropped a smile on me that would have had the serpent in the garden applying for unemployment.
“Yes,” she said.
So, we did.
I thought I had been imagining things. I thought we were back at the pinnacle. I could feel the love drug course through my veins. Things couldn’t be better. Or, so I thought.
Oh Lord, won't you tell me why
I love that girlie so
The Following Monday
The next Monday I was called into what turned out to be the most fucking bizarre moment of my fifty-eight years on this planet; and I’ve had some bizarre fucking moments growing up in south Brooklyn in the 1970’s; believe you me.
The company’s CIO, compliance officer, head of legal, head of HR and my evil manager, Conte Rugen were all in attendance, cameras ROLLING.
It appears I was being dismissed after 8 years loyal service for sexual assault, extortion, harassment, hate speech, insults to farm animals and every fucking other offense against God and man one could commit in these holiest of holy United States of America.
And just who had I… who had I.. victimized? Who had I preyed upon? Harassed? Gone full nutso on?
Maggie.
They had the goods. Recordings. Video. Ropes. Whips. Chains. Bad Spanglish. Maggie screaming, “No, papi! No!!!!”
I believe I was, what is known in legal parlance as, summarily fucked.
Nobody wanted to hear my side. How things were taken out of context. Things we had mutually consented to out of exciting and bonding trust and exploration.
“Did I have consent agreement?” I parroted back in shock to the head of legal.
“Did you get one when you fucked your mother in the ass before she shat you out?” I added just to keep my mouth from puking.
I was in bombshell shock. Maggie was my angel. Our situationship was supposed to be fucking healing from our abused childhoods and here I am now some kind of Tarantinoesque, Mr. Fucking Rapist? And my fucking manager once bragging about throwing a cat out a window when he was a juvenile delinquent?!?
There would be charges pressed. I would need an attorney. I might be arrested.
And it all happened faster than you can say, “Blue Monday, How I hate Blue Monday”.
And then Maggie sued the company. Take no fucking prisoners, Maggie. Disco-fucking-inferno burn that mother down we don’t need no water let the motherfucker burn Maggie. I wondered if her ex had been left on food stamps after the divorce.
A few months and my life savings and retirement account after that the criminal case got pleaded down to misdemeanor assault and I was able to arbitrate with my employer and Maggie’s lawyer leaving me with some clothes, my passport and precisely enough plastic to fly into the sweltering Mexican heat. So, fly into it I did.
Part III – The Beginning
Sincerely, oh you know how I love you
I'll do anything for you, please say you'll be mine
Oh Lord, won't you tell me why
I love that girlie so
She doesn't want me
But I'll never never never never let her go
...
“I wish you’d stop waving that thing at me,” I said gesturing at my heart with my chin.
“You’re still upset,” Maggie said. It wasn’t a question.
“You fucking abused me. You fucking eviscerated me. Yeah, you could say I’m a little perturbed.”
“But you’re still wearing the hat,” she said smiling.
“It’s a bad ass hat,” I said. It was after all. Why cut off your nose to spite your face?
“I put a lot of time and thought into it,” she said. My heart continued to beat in her hand.
...
Oh Lord, won't you tell me why
I love that girlie so
She doesn't want me
But I'll never never never never let her go
...
“Look,” she said waving my heart at me.
“I really wish you wouldn’t wave that around like that.”
The voice in the abyss in my chest spoke. It said, “Wait for it.”
Maggie said, “Spenser, you poor fucking sap. You hate your fucking job. You try to do the right fucking thing and speak up and you get kicked around like a dog. You try to love hard and you get beat up and left in an alley. You try to write books and start businesses and you end up bankrupt or dead.
And now look at you! You don’t have a care in the fucking world. You don’t have a shitty job. You are in beautiful Mexico City with the girl of your dreams. You say your heart was hardened? Well, I say it feels pretty fucking soft and sweet to me. Like the hat I knitted you. With the pom pom. And you know what?”
“What?” I heard myself murmur?
The abyss in my chest said, “Yeah, what?”
“Well, one the fucking pom pom has a beacon so I knew where you were the whole fucking time you sap. So I can tell you this true. And I will. So here I am in fucking Mexico sweating my tits off. And I am telling you this," she said nodding at my cardio, "is a very good heart. And I am putting it back where it belongs.
There is nothing wrong with it and now nobody can hurt it again. And if you want to write a book now you have something, and someone,” she added with a wry smile, “to write about.”
Then lightning quick Maggie put it back in my chest and removing her hand made a quick flourish gesturing for the waitress.
“Botella de tequila, por favor!”
I looked down at my chest. Everything seemed to be the way it had been before she ripped out my heart. Only different.
I was about to speak. Maggie raised a hand.
The waitress appeared like a wraith and put down a bottle of Don Julio and two fresh shot glasses and two cold ones.
Maggie poured two shots and pushed one at me with the hand that had been holding my cardio captive. She then fished around in her pocket and found her phone.
“What the fuck, right," that's what your thinking, Spenser. Yeah, what the fuck is right. Look at this baby boy,” she said and then pushed her phone next to the shot glass.
I was looking at what appeared to be a bank balance that appeared ready, willing and able to face fuck an extraordinarily tall giraffe. I felt the migraine disappear like a bad dream.
Maggie gave me a wry smile.
She pushed the shot glass closer to me and picked hers up. I felt my elbow bending. It felt okay.
She tilted her shot at me and said, "Here's looking at you, kid," and took the shot. I drank mine.
We put our glasses down.
“You can negotiate anything," she said, then added, "sincerely.”
And then, then she kissed me.
Oh say you'll be mine
Oo-eee, oo-eee-oo, ooi-ooi-ooo
Sincerely

“Hey Raz, I got one!” Raz’s voice was cut by static as he called back, “Great! …at quarry …die.” Well, that wasn’t ominous at all, I thought to myself as I adjusted the rear-view mirror to check on the operator I had just blown past. They were doubled over coughing, their gas mask swayed side to side on the ground next to their feet. I don’t know what compelled me to not flatten what I had thought to be an AQ soldier, but I’m glad I didn’t.
I slammed my hummer in reverse, coming to a stop next to the helpless operator. “Hop in bud, we can get you to final exfill yet.” He slowly hauled himself into the bed of my hummer, landing with a dull thud and a groan as he fell onto his back. We cleared the gas, and I was immediately put on edge as my passenger started to gain consciousness. If he was planning anything nefarious, there wasn’t much I could do about it now. “You good back there? Normally I’d stop to send an invite but given the situation that might have just caused more problems.” He leaned through the non-existent rear window, “Nah, I understand man. When we get further from the gas we can stop and squad up. Don’t need to risk lighting each other up if things get hot at the exfill.” I couldn’t help but chuckle, “I don’t think that would be much of an issue regardless. Hey, we didn’t leave any of your friends back there, did we? I know we peeled out pretty quick.” I saw him shake his head and point to our left in the rear-view mirror. “We got split up, but they were running for a car, so I wasn’t too worried.” I followed his finger, a white hatchback cruised along parallel to us, swerving through buildings trying not to eat too many AQ bullets. “Hey boys, Dutch here is gonna roll with us to final. We’ll squad up when we get there.” I was barely able to make out one of his squad mates call out “Tight!” over his earpiece.
“Hey, listen, I’ve got friend I’m rolling with. His name’s Raz, he’s gonna meet us at final. If you see a red, white, and blue LTV, don’t shoot alright.” Raz chimed in, his radio finally clear of the static, “That’s very kind of you to tell them not to shoot me Dutch.” Before I could respond, a black turreted LTV slid out of Said City ahead of us. “Is that your boy Dutch?” I wanted to give my passenger the benefit of the doubt, it is windy in the box after all, he might not have heard me. “Nah man, wrong colour, and he didn’t have a turreted LTV last I saw.” The black LTV continued North along the main road as we cut away into the quarry proper. “Raz, company is headed your way. Looks like it’s just a solo in that truck but you can never be too careful.” “Thanks for the heads up Dutch.”
I rolled to a stop at the base of the helicopter ramp, gently flattening a couple of AQ who were getting a little to close to the bird for comfort, just shy of the battery running dry. The other two operators in the hatchback slid to a stop just down the hill from us. I got out of the hummer, a tad worried that my good fortune was about to come to an end at the hands of these fellas. As they ran up the hill, the notification finally popped. I accepted and ran down the hill to grab the hatchback, breathing a sigh of relief. “Wait, where you goin’ Dutch?” One of my clients called out. “Raz and I will run interference while we wait for the chopper to take off. Any AQ or unfriendly operators are gonna have to go through us.” “You keep talking about this Raz guy, but I’ve yet to see anyone other than that black LTV.” Almost on queue, a black LTV flew up the hill narrowly missing my hatchback. My clients went into a frenzy. “Operators pushing us! Take ‘em down!” The LTV spun in the sand in front of me, a glorious and perfectly oiled moustache glinting in the Al Mazrah sun. “Hold your fire! It’s Raz!” I called from below my clients. I sent an invite to him which he had hopped out and accepted faster than any of these guys could pull the trigger. “You see the operator that was in that earlier?” Raz shook his head, “No, I pulled up on it and they were gone. Must be out on foot somewhere.”
With 5 seconds left on the clock, there wasn’t enough time to go find them, our clients now panicking as they realized we weren’t on the bird. “What are you two doing?!” They shouted from the air as we waved goodbye. “Al Mazrah is our home gentlemen. That bird was never meant for us.” I gave Raz a pat on the shoulder as the gas rapidly approached, another successful day had come to a close.
The clack of a Kastov charging handle was almost unmistakable. We both turned to see the operator from the LTV standing there, rifle honed on us. “Well shit.” Their rifle dropped towards the dirt as they looked back over their shoulder at the nearly out of sight exfill chopper. They pushed through us, wandering towards the North side of the quarry. Raz and I locked eyes, shrugging in unison. That was one of those moments where we really wouldn’t have blamed them for their decision, whatever it might have been. “We better get back to HQ, Compton said I.T dropped off something for you.” Raz said as the gas engulfed us.
“I’m going back to the island boss.” My hands were shaking as I gripped the file folder that I.T had left for me. “Twitch.” “He’s back, it took him a bit, but he’s managed to re-take the castle and hunker down since we last saw him. And if he’s back then we might finally be able to get some proper intel on those blue tracers, direct from the source.” I handed the folder to Raz. He took it, turning to no doubt address the rest of the crew. I grabbed his shoulder, stopping him before he could speak. “Not everybody, not this time. They’ve doubled the defences; we’d be walking into a slaughterhouse.” “Well, you can’t go in there alone, we look out for our own Dutch, you know that.” Raz’s brow tightened, I could tell he was already trying to figure out what my plan was. “I’m bringing Maze and Alex. They’ll provide sniper cover while I infiltrate the castle. I still have my old uniform. As long as they haven’t drastically changed up their callsigns, I should be able to get in undetected.” I could tell Raz wasn’t convinced. “Dutch, like you said, you’d be walking into a slaughterhouse. How does you going in solo make that any better.” “After what happened in the complex…I’m not putting anyone else at risk, I can’t. The Bomb Maker…Twitch, I’ve gotta face him myself. Look him in the eyes so he knows I crawled out of Hell to drag him back down there.” “Alright, I couldn’t really stop you if I wanted to, could I?” Raz shrugged. “No, not unless you shot me, and honestly, I’d take those odds.” I punched his shoulder and started heading for the breakroom to grab Maze and Alex. “You keep that up I’ll be moving you back out to that sea can of yours.” Raz smirked.
The locks took a bit of fighting to get open. While this footlocker had only been on Ashika Island for a few months, the constant spray of salt water had worn away what little integrity it once had. The black uniform, emblazoned with the Rook and Spade of Shadow Company, was still in excellent condition, save for a bullet hole just under where the plate carrier would sit. I paused for a moment, holding it up in the air, memories of the past flooding in. “Not a lot of fond memories in that uniform I take it.” Maze called out from the catwalk in our home away from home. “I think part of the problem is that there are good memories. It’s a little concerning that such fond memories can hide out amongst so much evil.” “We’ve all done things we aren’t proud of. Some of us just did things other people also wouldn’t be proud of either.” Alex chuckled to himself as he cleaned his rifle on the cot next to me. I grimaced, mostly because he was right. I slipped into the old black fatigues and strapped on my old plate carrier. My weapons were all still intact too, I pulled my Taq-56 out of the footlocker, running my fingers over the engraving in the side, ROOK-XLIV. I cycled the charging handle a few times before loading in a fresh magazine and setting it on the cot next to me. I pulled out a pistol belt, two pearl handled revolvers, one with an ebony Rook on the grip, the other, an ebony Spade. Umbra Catavae engraved along each barrel. Maze had come down from the rafters now, a look of mixed intrigue and concern on her face, “I take it those don’t invoke fond memories.” I had done a poor job of hiding my look of disgust. “No, unfortunately they do.” I felt a wave of guilt wash over me. “Each of these was given to me for completing outstanding performance in the field. I did things I’m not proud of, and I was rewarded for it, handsomely. Holding these in my hands, I feel the same pride I had felt when they were first handed to me. It makes me sick.” I strapped the belt around my waist. The pearl handles shining against my all black silhouette. Alex piped up again, “Hey, at least you are trying to make amends for your sins, not many can say the same.” I let out a long sigh, “I suppose you’re right. You both remember the plan?” “Get to the radio towers and start lighting the place up when shit inevitably hits the fan.” Maze grinned. “Close enough.” I pulled my balaclava up and headed for the door.
The guard at the gate didn’t immediately shoot me which gave me some spark of hope that this might work. “In position!” Alex and Maze called out almost simultaneously. “Jinx, you owe me a beer!” Maze rejoiced. “What? Why would I give you a beer for that?” Alex sounded genuinely confused. “Hey, cut the chatter you two, don’t need to give them any reason to not let me in alright.” The guard held up his hand. “I don’t recognize you, let’s see your I.D.” I held up my old I.D card. “Well I’ll be damned, look who crawled out if his grave.” He pulled my mask down to confirm. “You look pretty good for a corpse, though your I.D card is out of regulation. You might want to stop by the I.T guy to get a new one made.” “Thanks, I’ll head right over.” The first thought that came to my mind was Bob. There’s no way he still worked for these assholes, is there.
“You used your old I.D?! You mad man!” Maze cackled over the radio. “Ok, I’ll admit, this wasn’t my greatest plan. I honestly thought they’d just capture me after seeing who I was.” Alex cut me off, “Go with the flow I suppose.” “Spade-499 up one-two.” The local radio channel began to drown out my squad’s comms. “Rook-3468 down one-one” “This is some odd radio traffic Dutch.” Alex quipped. I watched as a Shadow Company mercenary approached a stairwell, each step primed and ready to pop a leg off whichever unfortunate soul chose to ascend. “Spade-5454 up one-two.” “It’s how they know to deactivate the traps.” I whispered into our secure line. I approached the same stairwell. “Rook-44 up one-two.” I could hear the traps audibly click off. The guard at the to put his hand out as I reached the top step. “Sorry, no ghosts allowed on the second floor.” “Ghost? What…” He bent over laughing. “I’m just messing with you man. They said you died holding off the ULF while Bob and Twitch escaped, going out in a blaze of glory. Clearly, they didn’t have their facts straight. Glad to have you back.” I’m glad I had the balaclava on because I was struggling to hide my confusion. Last I checked I was the scape goat for the largest backstab in Shadow Company history, not a hero. I was never a hero when I worked for them. “I take it you are going to see the boss, call up two-zero, we don’t want people to be just guess on the fly, just in case someone tries to sneak in.” If only he knew.
“We don’t have eyes up there Dutch. Whatever happens, you’re on your own.” I could hear a tinge of worry in Alex’s voice. “Just make sure whoever is in here doesn’t get reinforcements.” “You got it!” Alex and Maze both called out in unison. “Jinx, you owe me another beer.” “There’s free beer at headquarters, why would I owe you a beer for that.” Alex called back clearly still confused. “Radio silence please. I’ve got a rat to kill.” I took a deep breath, pulling my Bryson from its sheath, the chrome exterior brushed over with a dull grey to blend in. “Rook-44 up two-zero.”
“Well, well, well. I was wondering when I’d see you again after our last encounter. Urzikstan and Al Mazrah clearly hadn’t kicked your ass enough so you decided to come crawling back to me for another round.” The traps clicked off. “Come on up, I’ve been looking forward to this.” I slowly ascended, keeping my Bryson trained at the top of the stairs, my eyes scanning each stair for an actual trap. As I crested the stairwell, my eyes were immediately drawn to him. His back turned to me, Trophy Systems whirring and clicking around him. “I missed you Dutch. Well, the old you. The one that would shoot through a hostage just to prove a point, the one that would dangle captives from buildings by their collar until they squawked like a bird, and then still dropped them anyways. I miss the Dutch that smoked Keller because his gas mask worked and yours didn’t when we those crazy Russian’s tried to hit us with mustard gas. I still get a little nauseous when I think about you peeling his face out of there.” “I’ve changed Twitch, I’ve moved past all that. I found a calling that doesn’t require me to be a conniving bastard.” Twitch laughed as he turned around, his hands empty. I kept my Bryson trained on him. “That’s what you think I am huh? I prefer shrewd businessman, but if that’s what helps you sleep at night.” He walked to one of the barred windows. “You really think what you and those taxi driving hooligans are doing matters?” “Clearly it does, or you and the Chemist wouldn’t be working so hard to sabotage us.” I took a few steps towards him. “Well, I suppose it matters to one of us. The Chemist and Raz go way back, but you know that. What I care about is the money, and I get a lot of money for helping that crazy bastard try to wipe out your little band of Merry Men.” “And Women. This guy just loves the sound of his own voice. Can I remove his head already? He’s looking right at me, practically begging me to pull the trigger.” I could hear the contempt in Maze’s voice. Twitch always did love a monologue. “You can still fix your mistakes Twitch. Gives us what info you have on those tracers of yours and I might consider not killing you.” I snarled. “When you went soft Dutch, you lost any respect I might have had for you. We are long past the point where you can intimidate me. Besides, any info I did have, is with the Chemist. He paid a handsome sum to get the formula, and really, it was becoming a logistical nightmare to ship enough of those little blue gems across the sea. Better for everyone to have it made close to the front lines.”
“Spade-101 up two-zero.” Bob’s voice cut through the tension. “Well I’ll be, it looks like we are gonna have a little family reunion.” Bob’s head poked up the stairs, “Hey boss, another server bank has shorted out from the sea air, I told you we should invest in better waterproofing the housings but if you still…” He trailed off as I dropped my Bryson, the sling catching it just before it hit the ground, and drawing my two revolvers. “Oh, hey Dutch. Nice to see you too.” Bob stammered. I cocked the hammer on each one, keeping one trained on each of my old squad mates. “Really Bob? Really! I understand you sticking around the day of the heist. But now? After everything that Shadow Company has done to these countries. To its own people.” Before he could respond, a siren blared over the intercom system. “Defensive positions! Hostile operators have breached the perimeter.” “Dutch you’ve got six operators approaching the castle, I think it’s time to bounce.” Maze was drowned out by her own gun fire, her Signal .50 raining death into the courtyard. “Looks like our time is up here Dutch. Since you clearly don’t have los cojones to pull the trigger, you might as well see yourself out, and let me and my men handle this.”
“Fuck it.” The hammer of the first revolver slammed down, dropping Bob instantly. I turned to face Twitch, his face a mix of surprise and pride. “Maybe I was wrong, the old Dutch still lives.” I charged forward, tackling him through the window and off the roof. Both of us lay on the ground, groaning as the chorus of gunfire roared around us. He dove for one of my pistols, but unfortunately for him, I had managed to hold on to the other, putting a round through his arm just before he could grab the gun. He rolled out of the way of the second round, bringing his one working hand up to the radio on his chest. The explosion from the castle threw both of us across the courtyard, debris raining down around us. I felt like I was reliving one of the worst days of my life all over again. I hauled myself to my feet, Shadow Company mercenaries and operators wandered aimlessly through the ashes. Everyone seemed too disoriented to fight. “I think it’s time to leave Dutch.” “I second that.” Maze and Alex were barely audible over the ringing in my ears. “Regroup at the boat. If I’m not there in 5, go without me.” I never heard a response, even if they tried, they wouldn’t have convinced me to leave, not with him still breathing.
I combed through the smoke and fire, carefully checking every nook and cranny I came across but the slippery rat was nowhere to be seen. “Looks like you 3 aren’t thick as thieves after all, eh Dutch. Poor Alex here was left all alone on the beach, no boat to be seen.” Twitch was sucking in air between words, no doubt kept standing by adrenaline. “You lay a finger on him, and I’ll make you wish you had died in that explosion.” I spat into my mic. “Don’t make me wait too long.”
I limped over a hill towards the beach where we were supposed to regroup. “Alex! Where’s Maze?” I called out as I stumbled down the sand bank. Alex didn’t respond, his head held in a tight headlock by Twitch, my second pistol against his temple. “She abandoned you both, and now I get the pleasure of killing you both after yet another betrayal. When will you learn Dutch. This world is a cruel place. Only the strong survive, clearly Maze knew that.” Twitch cut me off before I could retort. “Save the fight me with honour B.S that I know you are gonna spew.” I’m gonna kill you and your buddy and salvage what little I can of this operation. Then maybe retire to Cuba. I do love a good cigar.” “Adios, pendejo!” Alex brought his arm down, the knife concealed in his hand connecting with Twitch’s thigh. Twitch let out a high-pitched yelp, letting loose a round from the revolver which narrowly grazed Alex’s hair. Alex dove into the sand right as Twitch’s shoulder exploded in a pink mist followed shortly by the unmistakable crack of Maze’s Signal .50. I squinted trying to see where the shot came from, all I caught was the glint from her scope in the sun, the boat hardly visible in the rolling surf.
I limped forward, Bryson in hand, chrome starting to show through the worn grey paint. I kicked the revolver away from Twitch, placing a boot on his chest and the barrel of my Bryson against his forehead. He began to mumble and cry, hardly able to string together an understandable sentence. “Save it, you’re gonna need your energy for what comes next.” Our boat slammed into the shore, Maze hopping off, rifle raised and ready. “Oh shit I actually hit that!” “I’m not gonna lie, I thought you’d actually just bailed.” I laughed as she helped Alex to his feet. “You still go those claymores?” I asked Maze as Twitch continued to writhe in panic under my boot. “You wanted the old Dutch, eh Twitch. Ask and you shall receive.” Maze handed me the claymores, while Alex kept sidearm pointed at Twitch. I planted 4 around him, just far enough away that they wouldn’t go off unless he moved. I drew one of my revolvers, popping the cylinder out and emptying all but one round. I gave the cylinder a spin before flicking it closed. I tossed the revolver at Twitch. “Don’t waste that on me. You’ll only regret it in about an hour.” I took my other revolver, and hurled it towards the sea, the pearl grip glinting in the sun as it spun through the air, disappearing into the crashing waves. “Good riddance.” I sighed, that chapter of my life finally ended. Twitch was silent, his whimpering now just deep, laboured breathing. I turned back before I stepped onto the boat, watching as his hand slowly moved to the pistol in the sand next to him. “Well played Dutch, well played.”

Seid langem lese ich diesen Sub und mag ihn, schenkt er mir doch amüsante Nachmittage und nun freue mich darauf euch meine Geschichte zu erzählen. Ich bin mit dem Umweltschutz sehr penibel, trenne Müll, fahre Rad, bin ein fan von den verrückten die sich auf Strassen kleben, bin im Urlaub traurig weil bald all die süssen Meerestierchen wegen dem Klimawandel drauf gehen, kaufe bis auf Hosen meine Kleidung second Hand, ich bin ein radikaler etwas zanghafter Ökoflanders .
Bis auf heute, ich musste wochenlang im alleingang eine 4er WG entrümpeln, spendete Kleidung und altes Geschirr der Diakonie, sortierte aus und verschenkte, nahm selbst viel zu viel mit von dem was man noch gebrauchen könne und nun in der neuen WG doppelt da sein wird, ich war so richtig durch und fertig mit den Nerven.... Heute war der letzte Tag dieser nervenzehrenden Aktion. Das gröbste ist erledigt, heute noch den Sperrmüll auf die Strasse und den Müll wegbringen, fegen und dann weg mit dem Schlüssel. seid Wochen bin ich Krank und habe meine Tage und würde mich am liebsten nicht rühren, angesäuert melde ich mich zum Putzdienst, denn es ist das erste mal das die anderen sich um die Wohnungsauflösung kümmern und ich merke wie mein Körper sich vehement gegen alle körperliche Belastung wehrt. Irgendwann schaffe ich es mich von meinem ungesunden Pflichtgefühl zu lösen und zu sagen das ich jetzt nachhause gehe, habe ja limo gebracht ein paar kleine Dinge erledigt, sollen die anderen sich mal kümmern. Dann wird mir mittgeteilt, dass ich die alte Farbe ich noch mitzunehmen hätte, dabei habe ich sie ja nichteinmal angeschafft, ich fluche innerlich, denn jetzt kommt auf meine Todoliste ein Besuch beim Wertstoffhoff an dem Tag wo ich endlich den ganzen sitzen wollte. Es hilft kein subtiles jammern darüber das der Wertstoffhof weit weg ist, keine symbolische rechersche ob er nicht doch auf den Sperrmüll darf, die Farbe ist zur Hausmüllentsorgung zu flüssig da gibt es nichts zu rütteln und meine exmitbewohner lassen sich nicht erweichen unter grossen getue und innerlich fluchend packe ich alles um. Die Lebensmittel in den Rucksack, die dafür mitgenomme Styroporbox in die eine Hand, nehme den Eimer Farbe der für meinen zustand eh viel zu schwer ist in die andere Hand, verabschiede mich von meinem freien Tag und gehe zur Bahn. Da sehe ich es einen verlassenen Bauschuttcontainer, fein säuberlich abgedeckt wie er an der Hauptstrasse steht, ich fackele nicht lange nähere mich ihm und löse die Gummibänder von den Haken welche die Plane auf dem Container halten, eine nach dem anderen bis der Container weit genug offen ist um dem Farbeimer leise ohne etwas zu verschütten in den Container gleiten lassen kann, verschliesse den Container gründlich ja fast liebevoll und drehe mich um kritisch beobachtet mich der Koch aus dem syrischen Restaurant. Ich grinse breit er grinst zurück. Habe das Gefühl verstanden zu werden.
Liebes Internet ich gestehe illegaler weise einen Eimer dispersionsfarbe in einen Bauschuttcontainer entsorgt zu haben

Hello! Looking for suggestions on how to properly strip paint on oak cabinetry. Previous owners put blue, latex based paint and primer on kitchen cabinetry and we’d like to get it down to the wood as close as possible in hopes of staining them. So far I’ve tried Goof Off paint splatter remover and Klein Strip Premium Stripper using a putty knife to scrape the surface. The surface of the cabinets seems to have somewhat absorbed the paint making it hard to fully remove the color. Considering power sanding using a fine grit, but wanted some advice before we go forward and make mistakes. Appreciate any suggestions!

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EDIT: Keep on going with the ad hominem attacks. It's quite sad, but laughable more accurately.
One Piece might possibly be the most overrated shounen series of all time, and Oda is a bad writer.
First off, the plot. The plot in One Piece is incredibly formulaic. Most of the arcs have the exact same structure to them. Go to an island, meet allies, split up, find out that the island is either being terrorized by a bad guy, or it's about to be taken over by a bad guy. Then, the straw hats have to battle against the bad guys. After saving the day, they feast and proceed to the following island, where the same thing occurs. The entire stretch from the Sabaody Archipelago to Marineford is the only part of this series where the plot deviates from this same formula. Other than that, most arcs adhere to the same pattern. The plot is largely devoid of any originality.
A few arcs in the series have little to no relevance on the overall story, and do little to help the Straw Hats accomplish their goals. Skypiea was almost completely filler, aside from the last part where it's revealed that Gold Roger went up there. The entire conflict with Enels regime and the Shandians was completely filler. Same thing with Fishman Island. The New Fishman Pirates are fodder filler characters, and the entire conflict revolving around them had zero relevance to the story. Given that they aren't even significant characters in the One Piece world, the Straw Hats defeating them didn't progress the story whatsoever. The arc had some relevant parts to it, but the conflict revolving the New Fishman Pirates was not one of them. Long Ring Long Land is another irrelevant arc, but that's not even worth talking about. There are probably more than 100 chapters/episodes in all three of these arcs combined. That many chapters with little to none story progression.
Now onto my second reason as to why One Piece sucks. It's terribly cliche and shallow. People frequently criticize Fairy Tail for having the power of friendship, however One Piece does the exact same thing. One Piece has an excessive quantity of plot armor and friendship power-ups. In some cases, the author writes himself into a corner and is forced to resort to deus ex machina to correct his error. For example, the end of the Enies Lobby arc. Even though it was previously established that the Going Merry cant set sail anymore, they somehow got saved by it during a buster call. Even though the Aqua Laguna was happening. Even though a random pirate ship shouldn't be able to sail directly towards one of the three world government powerhouses. This, as well as other comparable events frequently occur in One Piece.
The conflicts in One Piece are very superficial and cliche. Most of the villains are only evil for the sake of being evil. They pursue things like power and influence, which is quite stereotypical and generic. The conflict is extremely straightforward, as well as black and white. Once you can identify an antagonist as pure evil with no justifications for why he does what he does, that throws any hope of ethical complexity out the window. There is no sort of clashing of ideals in One Piece, and the characters are never placed into any sort of ethical dilemmas. Again, the conflicts are very straightforward, black & white. One side is objectively good, while the other is objectively bad. Because of the lack of ethical complexity, the character dynamic between Luffy and pretty much every villain is relatively simplistic and generic. This is very evident based on the lack of complex dialogue in the series. Why do you think the only thing Luffy said during Alabasta is "I'm gonna kick Crocodile's ass". Again, if there's no sort of ethical complexity then there's also no room for a clashing of ideals. At least Naruto and Bleach had some sort of ethical complexity regrading Byakuya Kuchigi and Pain. The ethical complexity lead to an ideological clash between Ichigo & Byakuya, as well as Naruto & Pain. One Piece has none of that. Ethical complexity is also a great way to develop characters, and force them to think more deeply/self reflect. Constantly putting characters in black and white conflicts is one of the main reasons the characters in One Piece never develop.
Next up, the characters. This is probably the worst aspect of this story. Lets take Luffy for starters. Zero character development whatsoever. He has no introspection. He has no psychological or ethical complexity. He has no internal characterization. He has no internal dialogue. Writing a manga for 26 years and not giving a single thought to character development is shockingly sad. Overall, I find Luffy to be an incredibly boring character. Besides all of the problems I just mentioned, he has one aspect about him that I absolutely despise. Almost every conflict he gets embroiled in has complexities that he is completely unaware of. He only gets engaged in conflicts when his friends are hurt, which is extremely superficial and cliche. In certain situations, even minor characters are more relevant to the conflict than him (Waiper, Vivi). I find it very weird how the protagonist, the most important character in the story, barely has any sort of connection to the conflicts of the story. He was inside the stomach of a snake most of the Skypiea arc, not understanding any of the nuances of the deep conflict surrounding him. His importance in the conflict is minor or sometimes even non-existent until his final battles, and most of the villains he fights have no idea who he is, or don't know much about him. Because neither of them knows much about the other, this results in a rather uninteresting protagonist/antagonist character dynamic. However, even if Luffy understood the nuances of the conflicts he's involved in, not even that would make him more interesting. This is due to the earlier statement I made about how the conflicts are quite simplistic, clear-cut, and devoid of any ethical complexity. As long as one side is objectively good and the other is objectively bad, the dialogue and character interactions between Luffy and the villains will always be generic. "I'm gonna beat your ass", "You hurt my friends", "You're a bad person". That's all it really boils down to, and that's all that it'll ever be. Zero complexity.
All of the conflicts he's engaged in are never because he thinks it's the right thing to do to be engaged in these conflicts. It's never because his ideals differ from the villains ideals. He's always engaged into conflict because he just always happens to make friends with people who are on the morally right side of the conflict, and he makes those friends very quickly. That's bad characterization, and that's bad writing. That's a terrible way to make your main character get involved in conflicts. It's also the reason why we never see Luffy undergo any sort of moral reflection. When you're always placed onto the morally right side of the conflict by coincidence, then that leaves little to no room for moral reflection.
As for the other Straw Hats, all of them remain stagnant throughout the entire series. They are merely given tear bait backstories, and once that's over, they remain the same throughout the rest of the series. They're gimmicks have already gotten stale a long time ago. Brook has been making the same joke since he's been introduced. Same thing with Chopper, Franky, Usopp, Nami, etc. They've been acting the exact same way ever since they introduced. None of them receive any psychological or ethical complexity whatsoever. The lack of character development makes the characters so boring.
I have other reasons, but I'm not in the mood to type them out right now. I'll just summarize them quickly: terrible pacing, shitty art, ugly character designs, straw hats become side characters after the time-skip, ridiculously long arcs full of too many subplots, too many garbage arcs, and a few more I cant remember. Terrible series overall.
It gets insanely annoying when One Piece fans try to overcomplicate this series. I've heard people making the claim that Luffy is a complex character. Absolutely absurd. The people that make this claim obviously don't know what it means to be a complex character. A complex character would be someone like Toguro from Yu Yu Hakusho. Not only is he a psychologically complex character, but he's also an ethically complex character. That's a perfect example of a complex multi-dimensional character. One Piece has pretty much no complex characters. Again, if you want to see good writing, then read or watch Yu Yu Hakusho. Both of the major villains, Sensui and Toguro, are incredibly complex and well written. One Piece on the other hand has only one-dimensional villains. There's a very clear intellectual difference in Togashi and Oda's writing. One is better than the other. They're both intellectually dissimilar pieces of work.

I could not help but notice this after the recent episode. While many DID foresee Guel and Shaddiq fighting, the fact that there is STILL the subplot involving Guel and Lauda with the reveal that the former killed Vim really starts making me feel like Guel is overstaying his welcome at best, or worst is the one who gets to do all the heroic stuff over Suletta or Miorine despite them being the protagonists. The fact there's four episodes left, and Suletta has been far from the action sometimes makes me lack faith even if Suletta and Miorine will do something during the Quiet Zero storyline.
I know the story was written a long time ago, but I can't help but sometimes think the writers caved in to all the Guel fans who wanted more of him, but at Suletta and Miorine's expense.
It feels so disheartening that as the Gundam TV series with its first female protagonist, on top of having a female deuteragonist in addition: Both of them are being sidelined hard in favor of the male supporting character who falls in line with more "traditional" Gundam protagonists. It's starting to feel like them promoting Suletta and Miorine as the protagonists is just for the sake of "window dressing". Like sure they're the main characters and the main couple and they know they print money, but they won't let them to do anything remotely heroic whatsoever. It's one thing to yuribait, but it's another to "female protagonist bait" when said protagonists aren't doing anything.