The title explains the whole post. I just wrote the following text on a notepad earlier in the day while at work.
For some context, I think I was groomed by a family friend/ church member fourteen-years my senior. I'm slowly coming to terms with it. Anyway, just wanted to share my recovery process with you guys in case any of you resonate with my thoughts and feelings.
——————
"Sometimes I can't believe I let him touch me. My body is no longer a home because of him. My mountainous curves now foreign in my lover's hands.
I can no longer look at my breasts in the mirror without wanting to cry.
I shouldn't have gone to his car. Played his "truth or dare."
When I undress, I turn my breasts away from my lover's eyes, knowing full well he would not touch me without my express consent.
I hate that I ever let him touch me. That I let him put his dick inside me.
I hate it.
I hate it.
I hate it!
I wish I could scrub the memory of him away."

Hey Everyone!
Let’s go….
Newly Covered Today:

1. Sorry, Dragon. A senator from the least populated state in the union just deeply wounded your entire agenda in one day. https://x.com/ArmySpies/status/1791572836076921128
2. Very interesting! Fallout from the Dragon's failure in the Senate vote? https://twitter.com/EricBalchunas/status/1792636523050906102
3. Wow! Is this shit actually happening? If it is, we have the Senate SAB 121 beatdown to thank for this HUGE shift in policy. https://twitter.com/WatcherGuru/status/1792656860379844875
4. The anti-crypto betas might be trying to strike back with opposition to Fit 21. https://x.com/lex_node/status/1792677933557146103
5. Looks like the message is only "strong opposition" as opposed to "don't you dare vote for this crypto bullshit". https://x.com/Eleanor_Muellestatus/1792701481575170341
6. The US state government rush to crypto has begun. https://twitter.com/BTC_Archive/status/1790395762506977502
7. This is what we wanna see: states competing to host us. https://x.com/SenLummis/status/1791112039982653550
8. Don't know anything about the project, but this is a pretty decent sized raise. https://x.com/splashprotocol/status/1791862205215801800
9. A huge thank you is due to Lummis and Gillibrand for pushing so hard for crypto in the Senate. https://x.com/SenLummis/status/1791146216522240118
10. McHenry on pushing Fit21 crypto legislation forward. https://twitter.com/PatrickMcHenry/status/1789017167821778946
11. The DOJ is talking about "MEV" and "fraud" in this indictment. Shocked I tell you! Shocked! https://twitter.com/tier10k/status/1790777058810789900
12. Schumer knows they're at a pivotal moment vs. Warren and the White House. https://twitter.com/twobitidiot/status/1790736453669949646
13. Senate Dems are trying to find a fix for the White House being. Having to veto the will of your own party's senators wouldn't be a good look in an election year. https://twitter.com/taylorjbarstatus/1790724374405828664
14. Which one of you was this? https://x.com/ArmySpies/status/1791915321529671965
15. Why Cardano? Because: https://twitter.com/josephdelong/status/1790862858244206942
16. Ahhhh...as it should be. https://twitter.com/StakeWithPride/status/1790857991488782351
17. The English translation of what's coming out of the Dutch Tornado Cash case is brutal. https://twitter.com/BillHughesDC/status/1790438032098631990
18. Paul Ryan is talking about stablecoins as a solution to help treasury auctions? https://twitter.com/nic__cartestatus/1790540747466223921
19. Epic community note about TPS in blockchains. https://x.com/coingecko/status/1791406157468504289
20. Apparently, Cardano's biggest competitor is inflationary again. https://www.coindesk.com/tech/2024/05/09/eth-reverts-to-inflationary-asset-following-fee-reducing-dencun-upgrade/
21. Mr. T pities the fools in banking who are gonna get wrecked by Commercial Real Estate. https://twitter.com/balajis/status/1790832468767220113
22. Nothing to see here! https://twitter.com/balajis/status/1789402248293818573
23. It's easy to forget there are only a few "decentralized" blockchains bigger than Cardano. https://twitter.com/Av_Sebastian/status/1789016340755276228
24. Development on Kraken's SEC battle. https://twitter.com/msantoriESQ/status/1788944762608754731
25. Thank you non-octogenarian members of Congress. No surprise to see our crypto ally Torres in there. https://twitter.com/SamLyman33/status/1788612636428374183
26. White House threatens veto of House Bill repealing SAB121. https://twitter.com/EleanorTerrett/status/1788279283229904976
27. The White House is wild for doing this in an election year. https://twitter.com/jchervinsky/status/1788281811086221646
28. Why is it happening? Because the White House economic staff is answering to the Dragon, not the guy who needs to win re-election as President. https://twitter.com/CaitlinLong_/status/178827894030354890
29. McHenry on SAB121. https://financialservices.house.gov/news/documentsingle.aspx?DocumentID=409247
30. House bill to repeal SAB121 passes with the support of 21 Democrats even after the White House veto threat. This is huge. Now on to the Senate. https://twitter.com/CaitlinLong_/status/1788328626250813657
31. Doom on Hydra! https://twitter.com/IOHK_Charles/status/1788292907679514677
32. Dragon also taking heat on her reaction to the FDIC scandal. https://twitter.com/nic__cartestatus/1788284368009437571
33. People are still massively sleeping on typescript in the ecosystem, totally separate from the addition of regulatorily compliant privacy. https://twitter.com/MidnightNtwrk/status/1787784475499208773
34. Grewal getting spicy in his retort to Gensler double talk. https://twitter.com/iampaulgrewal/status/1787852258572661214
35. Lubin on the SEC crackdown and MetaMask Wells Notice. https://www.wired.com/story/ethereums-co-founder-says-sec-is-gaslighting-us-about-crypto/
36. Robinhood received a Wells Notice. They're definitely trying to cover all the big on-ramps. https://twitter.com/CoinDesk/status/1787468580902088795
37. Politico article on the SeC and crypto. https://www.politico.com/news/2024/05/05/gary-gensler-sec-crypto-00154769
38. Druckenmiller on how easy this could have been. https://twitter.com/BillHughesDC/status/1787887702538420598
39. Fairly accurate. https://twitter.com/CryptoWendyO/status/1787847385328275514
40. Did someone say airdrop? Wait…what about the tokenomics? https://twitter.com/MladenLm/status/1787524932689174796
41. Why Haskell? Ask Anduril. https://twitter.com/TravisMWhitakestatus/1787516740961964338
42. The dirty little secret of Cardano’s main competitors? https://twitter.com/decryptmedia/status/1787513483606536560
43. The first treasury buy-back since 2002?!? So the treasuries are removed in exchange for more fiat being issued into the ecosystem. Definitely doesn’t sound like the start of things that look like QE under a new name. https://twitter.com/martypartymusic/status/1785681525746663925
44. Look at the difference 150 bps makes. https://twitter.com/balajis/status/1786510472214462967
45. What Biden’s guy wishes he said (of course with the nuance that actual physical printing…not what we’re worried about here…is done by Bureau of Engraving & Printing of Treasury). https://twitter.com/theSamPadilla/status/1786439794605572245
46. Set “Apply Thresholding” to “None” to see the real numbers. https://groups.inf.ed.ac.uk/blockchainlab/edi-dashboard/
47. Not gonna lie. This is pretty fire from Sen. Lummis. https://twitter.com/SenLummis/status/1786055913922494838
48. Three different non-BTC crypto ETFs are now listed on Hong Kong. Progress! https://www.theblock.co/post/291599/hong-kong-officially-debuts-asias-first-spot-bitcoin-ether-etfs
49. Grayscale is basically the worst ex ever. Getting our stuff out of their place has been painful and seems to never end. https://dailyhodl.com/2024/04/30/crypto-markets-break-down-as-grayscale-sends-over-245000000-worth-of-bitcoin-to-coinbase/
50. Consensys has sued the SEC seeking clarity around Ethereum and securities laws. https://twitter.com/BillHughesDC/status/1783561618741236177
51. Biden: Long-term capital gains to 44.6% + unrealized gains tax! Crypto: No thanks. https://twitter.com/WatcherGuru/status/1783028521549299932
52. Damn…they want CZ to get three years! https://twitter.com/WatcherGuru/status/1783028521549299932
53. Pragma: a new Cardano members based organization! Initial focus to be on Aiken and Amaru (a second client for Cardano…which we need). https://twitter.com/IOHK_Charles/status/1782828212273443063
54. I think we all knew this was coming at some point for Tron. https://www.sec.gov/news/press-release/2023-59
55. The SEC attorneys who were on Debt Box have exited the SEC. https://twitter.com/leomschwartz/status/1782470866766340300
56. Kennedy is talking about putting the US Government budget on the blockchain. Dude may be predicting the future. But, how far out is it? https://twitter.com/Holden_Culotta/status/1782240403879576041
57. We made it! Halving complete
58. Damn! Kennedy is embracing the ChazHosk endorsement! https://twitter.com/RobertKennedyJstatus/1780726997020508562
59. So close, but yet so far! https://twitter.com/GaryGenslestatus/1780685461020663888
60. Once again, we are the best blockchain. https://twitter.com/StakeWithPride/status/1780711598375809162
61. Hong Kong ETFs, you say?!? https://www.forbes.com/sites/digital-assets/2024/04/15/shock-leak-reveals-china-could-be-about-to-blow-up-the-price-of-bitcoin-ethereum-and-xrp/
62. As predicted when the investigation was revealed and Uniswap Labs took synthetics off their front end, the SEC has dropped a Wells Notice on Uniswap. https://twitter.com/Uniswap/status/1778127813138071904
63. A full suit against Uniswap is only a matter of time given the current composition of the Gensler led Commission. https://twitter.com/BillHughesDC/status/1778146519125774761
64. The founder of Uniswap on their willingness to fight the upcoming battle with the SEC. https://twitter.com/haydenzadams/status/1778126466984575166
65. It's definitely a little crazy given the recent ruling on Coinbase Wallet not being a broker. But, this is the result of an agenda, not fair and impartial treatment. https://twitter.com/iampaulgrewal/status/1778149863072670169
66. Ouch! Hotter than expected CPI for April. https://www.cnn.com/2024/04/10/economy/cpi-consumer-price-index-inflation-march/index.html
67. So-called "super core" inflation (no shelter, energy, or food costs) is even hotter. https://www.cnbc.com/2024/04/10/the-supercore-inflation-measure-shows-fed-may-have-a-real-problem-on-its-hands.html
68. Cardano's biggest competitor can't even decide what its issuance rate should be. https://unchainedcrypto.com/why-the-ethereum-community-is-up-in-arms-against-a-proposal-to-change-the-monetary-policy/
69. People are sleeping so hard on how much demographics are going to affect economies over the next few decades. Wild decisions will be made in attempts to remedy these problems. https://twitter.com/iamyesyouareno/status/1775535726383222928
70. Even Chairman Ryan sees the severity of the problem. https://twitter.com/SmokeAwayyy/status/1787925300757807226
71. This shows all the biggest depopulation trends. https://twitter.com/stats_feed/status/1786482160272118041
72. Operation Chokepoint 2.0 continues, apparently! https://twitter.com/CaitlinLong_/status/1775982855169995246
73. Weird that it hurts so little when you know they're on the descent. https://twitter.com/Grayscale/status/1775983039832904014
74. No private liability for secondary trading on exchanges. https://twitter.com/iampaulgrewal/status/1776292735063888374
75. No matter how much people will obsess over various wild-niche-bullshit things, the real story over this cycle will (as always) just be this: https://twitter.com/cardano_whale/status/1776229889743728657

Previously covered, but still interesting:

1. Not to worry: the on/off function of a large Cardano competitor is still functioning as usual. https://twitter.com/WatcherGuru/status/1754828269180903727
2. Oh...so bitcoin mining is an emergency now....okay. Makes perfect sense. https://twitter.com/BitcoinPierre/status/1752842700548718644
3. ..and as expected, their reaction is censorship. https://twitter.com/StakeWithPride/status/1764316770398289996
4. Pretty much what happened. https://twitter.com/AutismCapital/status/1762238298008006931
5. Watching Deaton challenge for the Dragon's seat is going to be some incredible fun. https://twitter.com/DeatonforSenate/status/1759935884978225340
6. Definitely no bias built into Big Tech AI! These MFers can't be trusted. https://twitter.com/NateSilver538/status/1761800684272308302
7. This one could end up addressing some interesting questions around government intervention in...basically just computation. https://twitter.com/WatcherGuru/status/1761112782253240810
8. 2020: "Binance is unstoppable." 2024: https://twitter.com/WatcherGuru/status/1761115366275596526
9. Very telling that it's just becoming clear to them that "crypto is here to stay". https://bitcoinist.com/sec-leader-resigns-stating-crypto-is-here-to-stay/
10. Maybe..crypto is just dreaming. But, it would send a shockwave through DC if Deaton won! https://twitter.com/Belisarius2020/status/1760499141296427405
11. Arthur Hayes with the unabashed Cardano hate. Why? Because it's valued??? https://twitter.com/CryptoHayes/status/1760055332364292219
12. Yep. The KYCing of self-custodied wallets is upon us. https://news.bitcoin.com/kraken-starts-requiring-info-on-self-custody-crypto-wallet-ownership-in-the-uk/
13. Still ranked crazy high in the brand intimacy rankings. https://twitter.com/CloverNodes/status/1769136178924769358
14. What do we have here? https://pool.pm/asset12ffdj8kk2w485sr7a5ekmjjdyecz8ps2cm5ze
15. We haven't seen this before. https://twitter.com/sachs_johnny/status/1768281470005588162
16. The crystal ball not looking good for an ETH ETF approval in May. https://twitter.com/jchervinsky/status/1767175990285857006
17. At least one candidate is with us. https://twitter.com/Holden_Culotta/status/1767344261081489793
18. The Dubai police are using the Cardano blockchain? https://twitter.com/ZombieLife2019/status/1766753115632480539
19. The truth will out...https://twitter.com/CCMOD_/status/1764379842911330776
20. Vechain is posting about Cardano and Charles. https://twitter.com/vechainofficial/status/1765014603220586706
21. We're still doing this CFTC vs. SEC thing? https://bitcoinist.com/ethereum-designated-as-commodity-by-cftc/
22. Welcome to the show of magic, mystery, and sorcery where I, the GREAT VALDINO, will turn Ethereum into Cardano before your very eyes! https://twitter.com/StakeWithPride/status/1771180467745669407
23. And then the ETH Foundation warrant canary vanished. Interesting move in an election year. They really don't put any respeck on the name of our voting power. https://unchainedcrypto.com/sec-investigating-ethereum-foundation-regarding-proof-of-stake-transition-report/
24. Unsurprisingly, a16z seems to disagree with any assertion by the SEC that ETH (in it's new proof-of-stake form) is a security. https://bitcoinist.com/ethereum-not-security-sec-probe-a16z/
25. 2024 is not going well for SEC litigation. https://twitter.com/iampaulgrewal/status/1769835308559032608
26. Oh okay...Japanese stagflation after 17 years of lowezero/negative interest rates. Yeah, sounds like everything's fine. https://twitter.com/profstonge/status/1769703427586605549

~Army of Spies

Found this article after doing a quick deep-dive after this post from u/evilez:
https://www.reddit.com/UFOs/comments/1d33m4l/does_anybody_remember_what_podcast_this_was/
"Hello fine ladies and gentlemen! I remember listening to a podcast less than a year ago. The main subject of the podcast was UFOs (I think)... anyways the guest told a story that a congressman or senator wrote a bill that was against the CIA or going to defund the CIA, in the 80's... and shortly thereafter, someone broke into his home, dragged his wife out into the street and stuck a gun in her mouth and told her to kill the bill."
Some light Googling brought up this article about the history of the CIA, the OSS, and Daniel Patrick Moynihan's attempts at defunding the agency in the 90s.
Here's an article about that attempt brought by Moynihan published on the Carnegie Endowment Website on December 20, 2005.
https://carnegieendowment.org/posts/2005/12/the-case-for-abolishing-the-cia?lang=en
Here's the New Yorker piece about all of this from October 3rd, 2022.

Spooked -- What’s wrong with the C.I.A.? -- By Amy Davidson Sorkin -- October 3, 2022

https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2022/10/10/has-the-cia-done-more-harm-than-good
According to the article regarding the resuscitation of the OSS as the CIA immediately following Roswell and the Twining Memo:
"Many of its officers moved straight to the new C.I.A. Most consequentially, perhaps, four future directors of the C.I.A. were O.S.S. veterans: Allen Dulles, Richard Helms, William Colby, and William Casey."
Here's the New Yorker article in full:
"On January 4, 1995, Senator Daniel Patrick Moynihan, of New York, introduced a bill called the Abolition of the Central Intelligence Agency Act. It had been a rough stretch for the C.I.A. The year before, Aldrich Ames, a longtime officer, had been convicted of being a longtime mole for Soviet (and then Russian) intelligence. Despite having a reputation among his colleagues as a problem drinker who appeared to live far beyond his means, Ames had been given high-level assignments with access to the names of American sources in the U.S.S.R. When the F.B.I. finally arrested him, he was in the Jaguar he used for commuting to work at Langley; by then, he was responsible for the death of at least ten agents. Moynihan said that the case was such a flamboyant display of incompetence that it might actually be a distraction from “the most fundamental defects of the C.I.A.” He meant that the agency—in what he considered to be its “defining failure”—had both missed the fact that the Soviet Union was on the verge of collapse and done little to hasten its end.
He gave a diagnosis for what had gone wrong. “Secrecy keeps mistakes secret,” he said. “Secrecy is a disease. It causes a hardening of the arteries of the mind.” He quoted John le Carré on that point, adding that the best information actually came from the likes of area specialists, diplomats, historians, and journalists. If the C.I.A. was disbanded, he said, the State Department could pick up the intelligence work, and do a better job.
Moynihan was, in some respects, being disingenuous. As he well knew, even if his bill had passed, spies and spying wouldn’t have gone away. The State Department already had its own mini agency, the Bureau of Intelligence and Research. The Departments of Energy and Treasury each had one, too. The Defense Intelligence Agency conducted clandestine operations; U.S. Army Intelligence, Air Force Intelligence, and the Office of Naval Intelligence kept themselves busy as well. The National Security Agency was nearly two decades away from the revelation, by Edward Snowden, a contractor and a former C.I.A. employee, that it had collected information about the phone calls of most Americans, but it was a behemoth even in Moynihan’s time. So was the Federal Bureau of Investigation. There were about a dozen agencies then; now, after reforms that were supposed to streamline things, there are eighteen, including the Office of the Director of National Intelligence (O.D.N.I.), a sort of meta-C.I.A. that has a couple of thousand employees, and the Department of Homeland Security’s Office of Intelligence and Analysis. The Drug Enforcement Administration (which currently has foreign offices in sixty-nine countries) has an Office of National Security Intelligence. Four million people in the United States now have security clearances.
It can be hard to sort out which agencies do what; players in the espionage business aren’t always good with boundaries. Both the C.I.A. and the N.S.A. make use of satellite resources, including commercial ones, but there is a separate agency in charge of a spy-satellite fleet, the National Reconnaissance Office—not to be confused with the National Geospatial-Intelligence Agency, which deals with both space-based and ground-level imaging, or with Space Delta 18, the nation’s newest intelligence agency, which is attached to the Space Force. Abolishing the C.I.A. might do nothing more than reconfigure the turf wars.
[NOTE: both Sean Kirkpatrick and David Grusch worked for the NRO and at least Grusch worked for the NGA]
As the senator from New York also knew, a large proportion of the C.I.A.’s resources are devoted not to intelligence gathering but to covert operations, some of which look like military operations. In “Spies, Lies, and Algorithms: The History and Future of American Intelligence” (Princeton)—one of several recent books that coincide with the seventy-fifth anniversary of the agency’s founding—Amy B. Zegart, a political scientist at Stanford, writes that it’s “getting harder to know just where the CIA’s role ends and the military’s role begins.” Yet the agency’s paramilitary pursuits and related covert activities go back decades. They include the botched Bay of Pigs landing, the brutal Phoenix Program in Vietnam, and a long list of assassination attempts, coup plots, the mining of a harbor (with explosive devices the agency built itself), and drone strikes. These operations have very seldom ended well.
Moynihan’s bill had no more luck than another that he introduced the same day, aimed at ending Major League Baseball’s exemption from antitrust laws. In each case, people understood that there was a problem, but both institutions were protected by the sense that there was something essential, and perhaps authentically American, about them, including their very brokenness. A sudden turn of events can convince even the C.I.A.’s most sober critics that the agency will save us all, whether from terrorists or from Donald Trump. But, seventy-five years in, it’s far from clear whether the C.I.A. is good at its job, or what that job is or should be, or how we could get rid of the agency if we wanted to.
How did we end up with the C.I.A.? A familiar explanation is that the shock of Pearl Harbor made the United States realize it needed more spies; the Office of Strategic Services was formed and jumped into action; and, when the war ended, the O.S.S. evolved seamlessly into the C.I.A., ready to go out and win the Cold War. But that narrative isn’t quite right, particularly regarding the relationship between the O.S.S. and the C.I.A.
[NOTE: We know how ended up with the CIA. ROSWELL.]
The United States has always used spies of some sort. George Washington had a discretionary espionage budget for which he didn’t have to turn in receipts. In the early part of the twentieth century, the State Department had an intelligence-analysis unit, along with a cryptography group called the Black Chamber, which operated out of a brownstone in New York’s Murray Hill until it was shut down, in 1929. The Army and the Navy had cryptography and reconnaissance units, too. When the Second World War began, their operations ramped up dramatically, and, as Nicholas Reynolds recounts in “Need to Know: World War II and the Rise of American Intelligence” (Mariner), these units, not the O.S.S., handled most of the code-breaking. The problem became the volume of raw intelligence. The task of making sense of it and of turning it into something that policymakers could use went to an office within the Army’s military-intelligence division (or G-2), which, Reynolds says, produced “the country’s best strategic intelligence” during the war. That office’s work was directed by Alfred McCormack, a former clerk for Supreme Court Justice Harlan Stone and a partner at Cravath, Swaine & Moore. Many of the people he brought in were young corporate lawyers; the theory was that their training in plowing through mountains of documents made them ideal intelligence analysts.
William J. Donovan, who led and largely conceived of the O.S.S., was also a Wall Street lawyer, but one with an aversion to the “legalistic.” What Donovan envisioned was essentially an array of commando units that would operate stealthily and behind enemy lines. In practice, what he tried to build, according to a colleague, was a “private army.” His escapades often risked too much and gained too little. In late 1943, one of his own officers wrote to him that “the set-up has been incredibly wasteful in manpower and, except for a few spotty accomplishments, has been a national failure.” And it had produced “chaos in the field.” Donovan’s nickname was Wild Bill, but his staff called him Seabiscuit, after the thoroughbred, because of his tendency to race around, engaging in what was basically war tourism. In the end, though, the O.S.S. made real contributions, including through its contacts with the French Resistance. But Donovan’s complaint about D Day was that there was “too much planning.” Counterintelligence and strategic thinking bored him, and the O.S.S.’s analysis division was seen as secondary to its operations.
When Harry Truman became President, in April, 1945, he took a look at the O.S.S. and, in September, 1945, abolished it. About two years later, he signed the National Security Act, which established the C.I.A. (and the Department of Defense), but he didn’t want the new agency to be like the group Donovan had run. Instead, it was supposed to do what its name suggested: centralize the intelligence that various agencies gathered, analyze it, and turn it into something the President could use.
[NOTE: I tried doing some research after reading something yesterday about how the NSA was developed in 1952 under Project Sigma to try and decode "alien" communications. If anyone can offer anything, you'd be helping humanity.]
“It was not intended as a ‘Cloak and Dagger’ Outfit!,” Truman later wrote. He also had to deal with public apprehensions that he might create what a Chicago Tribune headline called a “Super Gestapo Agency”—which is why, in its charter, the C.I.A. was banned from domestic spying.
Reynolds’s book is the best of the recent batch, and the most readable. It does not retrofit the history of the O.S.S. around the assumption that the C.I.A. was the inevitable lead postwar intelligence agency. There were other contenders, including a version of McCormack’s office in the State Department—something like what Moynihan wanted. J. Edgar Hoover argued that “World Wide Intelligence” should be turned over to the F.B.I., with military intelligence subservient to him. In some alternative history, he might have pulled that off; by 1943, he was running undercover operations in twenty Latin American countries. And so things could have been worse.
[WHAT UNDERCOVER OPERATIONS WERE WE RUNNING IN LATIN AMERICANS COUNTRIES IN 1943.]
Donovan was an adept publicist, but what mattered most, in the end, was that he was good, or lucky, when it came to hiring people. Despite the “pale, male, and Yale” stereotype, the O.S.S. was somewhat more diverse than other units, and certainly more eclectic. Among its ranks were Ralph Bunche, Herbert Marcuse, and Julia Child. Many of its officers moved straight to the new C.I.A. Most consequentially, perhaps, four future directors of the C.I.A. were O.S.S. veterans: Allen Dulles, Richard Helms, William Colby, and William Casey. Each seems to have had glory-day memories of the O.S.S., which is to say that each, in various ways, was afflicted with what a general in Army intelligence called “the screwball Donovan effect.” Casey, who put a picture of Donovan on his wall, said of his old boss, “We all glowed in his presence.” Wild Bill lost the bureaucratic fight but won the personnel and mythology wars.
And, of course, the agency found customers and collaborators in the White House. There was no mention of covert action in the law that chartered the C.I.A., but Presidents—starting with Truman—began using it that way. One of the agency’s first operations involved meddling in the 1948 Italian election, to insure the victory of the Christian Democrats. The subsidies and outright bribery of Italian politicians, some of them on the far, far right, continued into the nineteen-seventies.
Almost from its creation, though, there was a sense that something about the C.I.A. was off. The split between covert action and intelligence gathering and analysis was part of it. The director of the agency was also supposed to be the leader of U.S. intelligence as a whole, but, invariably, the person in the job seemed more invested in preëminence than in coördination. That setup remained in place until the establishment of the O.D.N.I., in 2004, a move that thus far has mostly continued a tradition of trying to deal with the C.I.A.’s dysfunction by setting up ever more agencies, offices, and centers. (The N.S.A. was established, in 1952, in response to a series of cryptography-related failures.) “Legacy of Ashes,” Tim Weiner’s 2008 history of the C.I.A.—and still an invaluable overview—takes its title from a lament by Eisenhower about what he’d be leaving his successors if the “faulty” structure of American intelligence wasn’t changed. Since Weiner’s book was published, the ashes, and the agencies, have only been piling up.
Zegart’s “Spies, Lies, and Algorithms” aims to bring that history to the present. Zegart has served as an adviser to intelligence agencies, and she provides a decent guide to our current bureaucracy. Throughout, her book is clear and well organized—maybe a little too well organized, one feels, after taking in the “Seven Deadly Biases” of intelligence analysis, the “Four Main Adversaries” and the “Five Types of Attack” in the crypto area, and the “Three Words, Four Types” that define covert action. (The covert-action words, incidentally, are “influence,” “acknowledged,” and “abroad.”) Not a few paragraphs read like PowerPoint charts; contradictions are displayed without really being reckoned with. She observes that the balance between “hunting” and “gathering” seems off, but, in her telling, the fact that Presidents of both parties regularly turn to the C.I.A. for paramilitary and other covert tasks constitutes proof that doing so is part of the order of things. The impression she leaves is that if it all goes wrong, it’s because some checklist has been missed. One of the top priorities of U.S. intelligence today, she thinks, should be persuading tech companies to get with the program and help out. She moots the creation of yet another agency, to deal with OSINT—open-source intelligence.
In one chapter, Zegart provides a list of scandals involving spying within the U.S. by various intelligence agencies—notably the N.S.A., the F.B.I., and the C.I.A. “All of these activities violated American law,” she writes. “But that’s the point: domestic laws forbid this kind of surveillance of Americans.” How is that the point, exactly? She depicts the Senate’s 2014 Torture Report, which detailed profound abuses in the C.I.A.’s so-called black sites, as a they-said, the-agency-said, who-knows case. She turns it into a parable about the problems with Congress—suggesting that, although the committee structure may have needed rejiggering, the moral compass of those involved in the program of torture was just fine.
Another new volume, “A Question of Standing: A History of the CIA” (Oxford), by Rhodri Jeffreys-Jones, a professor emeritus of history at the University of Edinburgh, offers the insights of a more distant observer. He can be astute about how “false memories” of the O.S.S.’s accomplishments have led the C.I.A. astray. Part of his argument is that the agency has acted as if its influence depended on its standing with whoever is in the White House, thus motivating it to offer Presidents quick fixes that fix nothing. The net effect is to reduce its standing, and that of the U.S., with the public at home and abroad. But Jeffreys-Jones is prone to rash generalizations and pronouncements. He theorizes that, in the run-up to the 2003 invasion of Iraq, George W. Bush’s national-security adviser, Condoleezza Rice, may have been susceptible to “war mongering” due to her status as “a descendant of slaves,” and that the working-class background of the C.I.A.’s director, George Tenet, made him more likely to vouch for the faulty intelligence on weapons of mass destruction used to justify the war. “Social mobility so often leads to conformity,” warns Jeffreys-Jones, himself the son of an academic historian.
During the Vietnam War, the C.I.A. had discouraging intelligence to offer, and, when successive Administrations didn’t want to hear it, focussed on being helpful by providing those supposedly quick fixes. That meant abetting a coup in 1963, spying on antiwar protesters, and launching the Phoenix Program, an anti-Vietcong campaign marked by torture and by arbitrary executions; in total, more than twenty thousand people were killed under Phoenix’s auspices.
Phoenix was run by William Colby, the O.S.S. alum, who was soon promoted to C.I.A. director. At lower levels, discontent about Vietnam fueled leaks. In December, 1974, the journalist Seymour Hersh told the agency that he was about to publish a story in the Times exposing its domestic spying. Whether in a miscalculation or (as Jeffreys-Jones somewhat breathlessly speculates) as an act of personal expiation, Colby gave Hersh partial confirmation. Amid the scandals and the Congressional hearings that followed, Colby angered some of his colleagues, and Henry Kissinger, by laying bare even more. It emerged that, in 1973, Colby’s predecessor had asked senior agency officials to produce a list of things the C.I.A. had done that might have been unlawful. The resulting document, covering just the prior fifteen years, was known in-house as “The Family Jewels,” and was almost seven hundred pages long.
The question of how much it matters who works at the C.I.A. is a perennial one. The influence of Donovan’s acolytes shows that decisions about whom you recruit can, in a formative period or at a critical juncture, make a big difference. But, once an institutional culture has become entrenched, it can be easier to see how the institution shapes the people within it than vice versa.
“Wise Gals: The Spies Who Built the CIA and Changed the Future of Espionage” (Putnam), by Nathalia Holt, comes at the question from a different angle. It’s about five women who worked for the early C.I.A.; three also worked at the O.S.S., and one, Eloise Page, began her career as Bill Donovan’s secretary. Holt is also the author of “Rise of the Rocket Girls,” about women in the early years of the Jet Propulsion Laboratory, and “The Queens of Animation,” about women at the Walt Disney Company. Her book contains fine material for a beautifully art-directed streaming series, with set pieces in postwar Paris, nineteen-fifties Baghdad, and nineteen-seventies Greece, where Page was the C.I.A.’s first woman station chief. It even has a framing device in the form of the “Petticoat Panel,” a working group of C.I.A. women that convened in 1953 to document their unequal pay and treatment. Holt quotes the transcript of the meeting at which the leadership of the agency summarily rejected their findings. Helms, the future director, says, “It is just nonsense for these gals to come on here and think that the government is going to fall apart because their brains aren’t going to be used to the maximum.” (In 1977, Helms was convicted of lying to Congress about the C.I.A.’s machinations in Chile.) What the book is not, unfortunately, is a coherent history of the C.I.A., of the era it depicts, or even of these women’s work.
Holt’s research does turn up evidence that Jane Burrell, one of her subjects, was the first C.I.A. officer to die in the line of duty, in a plane crash in France, in 1948, a fact that the agency itself apparently missed. Holt ends her book with a call for a star honoring Burrell to be added to the C.I.A.’s memorial wall. Of the hundred and thirty-seven officers represented there, she writes, forty-five died accidentally, the majority in plane crashes, meaning that Burrell’s case would be fairly typical. Burrell was on the return leg of a trip to Brussels, where she’d been sent to talk to war-crimes investigators about a mess the C.I.A. had created by relying on an agent who turned out to have worked with the S.S. and was now in custody. In that respect, too, Burrell, who had personally handled the agent, was typical of the C.I.A. (After Burrell vouched for him, the man was released.) The subject of the C.I.A.’s postwar relations with former Nazis—some of whom, like Reinhard Gehlen, it helped to install in West Germany’s new intelligence service—and with collaborationist émigré groups is, no doubt, a morass. Holt, alas, manages to make the story even more garbled than it has to be. In the end, she basically treats the whole sordid episode as a learning experience for the Gals.
The problem is that the agency doesn’t seem to learn much. Holt credits Mary Hutchison with helping to build a network of émigré Ukrainian nationalists. Beginning in 1949, the agency parachuted some of them (including one whom Hutchison apparently distrusted) behind the Soviet border, where they were quickly captured—and repeated the same procedure for a number of years. “Despite the catastrophe, the Ukraine operation would serve as a template moving forward,” Holt writes. “The C.I.A. had more success with back-to-back operations in Iran and Guatemala, where covert action was able to deftly oust leaders considered undesirable.” It’s odd to describe these coups as deft. One of Zegart’s handy lists is of the “unintended consequences” in Iran: “religious extremism, a revolutionary overthrow, the American hostage crisis, severed ties, regional instability, and today’s rising nuclear dangers.” Guatemala is still dealing with the violent legacy of the coup that the C.I.A. visited upon it. Then there’s the question of the intended consequences, which were, respectively, to elevate a shah and a military regime. Secret wars tend not to be so secret in the country where they take place.
It was, no doubt, frustrating for Hutchison when, a few years later, her colleagues on the Bay of Pigs task force failed to make use of her Spanish-language skills. But are we supposed to think that the whole misconceived enterprise would have gone off without a hitch were it not for the C.I.A.’s misogyny? One of Holt’s minor themes is that women in the C.I.A. were seen as more natural analysts than operatives—with analysis, in turn, seen as less manly, and less valuable, to everybody’s detriment. But she is more intent on showing that these women were also daring. The main point of “Wise Gals” is that it’s cool that women were in the early C.I.A., and therefore that the C.I.A. itself was cooler than we’d realized. Holt celebrates a big promotion Page got that afforded her access to the secret of a safe containing shellfish-derived poison. You don’t have to be pale, male, and Yale to be complicit in a bungled assassination plot, or, for that matter, a program of rendition and torture.
Why do so many books about the C.I.A. have trouble getting their story straight? It can’t just be the secrecy of the work itself, at least with regard to the earlier years, about which much has been declassified. (Much remains under wraps: Moynihan complained that classification created more than six million supposed secrets in 1993; Zegart writes that the number in 2016 was fifty-five million—not all of which can possibly have been critical.) The aura of secrecy, by contrast, probably does distort the judgment of its chroniclers. And the scope of the agency’s work is a challenge: it’s hard to write expertly on places as far-ranging as the Democratic Republic of Congo (where the agency initially planned to poison President Patrice Lumumba’s toothpaste, and instead ended up handing a quarter of a million dollars to Joseph Mobutu, the country’s future dictator, who facilitated the assassination) and Afghanistan (where the C.I.A. has had forty years of illusory gains and worse losses). But the biggest problem may be the agency’s own pattern of self-deception. Holt, for example, sometimes seems to go wrong when, rummaging through the archives, she gives too much credit to contemporaneous internal assessments of an agent’s or an operation’s worth.
In truth, the C.I.A. has had a “defining failure” for every decade of its existence—sometimes more than one. For Moynihan, in the nineteen-nineties, it was the lack of foresight about the Soviet Union; in the two-thousands, it was the phantom weapons of mass destruction, followed by torture and, in still evolving ways, by the drone-based program of targeted killings, with its high toll of civilian deaths. Barack Obama’s rapport with John Brennan, the C.I.A.’s director from 2013 to 2017, seems to have brought him to accept the view that the killing of American citizens abroad was acceptable, if managed prudently. The overuse of the agency on the battlefield is due not to a military-manpower shortage but to wishful thinking about the benefits of secrecy and of a lack of accountability.
It’s difficult to know, at this point, what the C.I.A.’s next defining failure—or, if one tries to be optimistic, its stabilizing success—will be. Donald Trump has had a complicated relationship with the intelligence community—increasingly capitalized and abbreviated to I.C.—which is presently conducting a damage assessment regarding documents with classified markings that he kept at Mar-a-Lago, his Florida home. He might, of course, be reëlected, and have the C.I.A.’s tools at his disposal again. If the C.I.A. isn’t the place to turn for an expedient solution to foreign-policy problems, neither is it bound to be the place to turn for a solution to our democracy’s political problems.
“If you ask intelligence officers what misperceptions bother them most, odds are they’ll mention ethics,” Zegart writes. She quotes an official who complains that “people think we’re lawbreakers, we’re human rights violators.” She insists that “officers think about ethics a lot.” She portrays the agency as being filled with hardworking moms and dads who do a great deal of “agonizing.” No doubt she’s right. But if the C.I.A. keeps falling down all the same, something must be tragically amiss in the agency’s structure or culture, or both. All the talk of coups and assassination plots, Zegart worries, distracts people from understanding the C.I.A.’s more basic intelligence mission. In fact, the party most distracted by such activities—and by the military role it has taken on—seems to be the agency itself. ♦
An earlier version of this article misstated the numerical designation of the Space Force unit dedicated to intelligence.
Published in the print edition of the October 10, 2022, issue.

Hello Everyone,
I’m trying my best to live out each day normally after a specific situation but it’s mentally and emotionally taxing. I guess I want to vent & hopefully receive advice to get a clearer perspective.
— Some background — The months leading up to our engaement were stressful. There was a lot of “miscommunication.” I use quotes because the communication was (still is) so bad to the point of me questioning and asking myself if it’s this bad to miscommunicate or am I missing something? Is it me? For example, my fiance said “When you get back from your trip, I want to get engaged / married.” I came back from the trip…2 months of nothing (we already lived together for 2 years and were talking about marriage since we were moving forward in our life in other ways with faith, home purchase, and also, I don’t like surprises, it’s a serious thing). I eventually asked if we were going to get married (I was sad and upset), but he got mad and said he never said when… (???)
— What happened — My mom eventually told me (after being married) that while I was on said trip & my fiance asked for my hand in marriage. My mom invited him to lunch (he wasn’t going to talk about anything yet because in his mind he never said when, according to him) and when he asked for my hand in marriage he also asked if his mom could date my dad (?!). I know my parents are divorced but my husband has never brought this up, and my dad has “sugar babies” (it’s awkward to say but that’s basically what it is).
— My dilema — I know my parents are divorced (since forever) and can date anyone. I’m torn because my husband knows how much my dads awkward dating life (dating people my age) has affected me, also past step mom gave my dad an ultimatum and I chose to move out to not hurt his marriage, etc. So if it’s true, why would he ask my mom this? Why would he dare to hook up his mom with my dad? And I can believe he’s lying to me saying “no that didn’t happen” because our communication is so bad. On the other hand, my mom could be lying too because she doesn’t want anyone getting between her and my dad potentially (magically) getting together. Also, my mom didn’t like that we asked his mom to live with us to help us save up money for our new home (both my dad & mom gifted down payment, they live on their own and are well off). Also, my husbands mom made a joke about “omg, imagine I’m your new step mom & date ur dad” (our parents had met and I felt like they flirted and I was very uncomfortable, i didn’t say anything, I didn’t know how to navigate that awkwardness)…Anyways, I just feel so unsettled because I don’t know what’s true. Is my mom or my husband lying to me? What really happened? I feel like this all happened at my expense ? Am I wrong to be upset? I struggle to trust already, how can I move forward in life when I feel like I’m walking in the dark? Who are they really?
Tl;dr — Potentially my mother lied about my husband & vice versa. The two people I’m the closest to & I love, I no longer fully trust. How does one live well & not drive themselves crazy when you don’t know the truth?

Oh, very long post. Sorry.
Hello, everyone! I know it’s been a while. Being completely honest with you, I am not okay… well, I’m feeling better now. I’ve been feeling horrible, hella anxious, and, yeah, depressed. I don’t even know how to start this post or how to explain what has happened. Maybe it’s really nothing, but it took a toll on my mental health.
Thank you for all your comments and messages. For real, thank you for your concern. It wasn’t my intention to worry you all, but yeah, I wasn’t having a great time. I’m still fighting against my own demons, but it’s all better now. So, thank you, really. I appreciate it so much. I wish we all could go out for a coffee in real life or something.
I’ll let you know what has happened.
A lot of things happened around Mother’s Day, and it brought up old feelings and bad impulses against myself that I had left long in the past. There was a day when I simply didn’t want to exist anymore, to say it kindly. I know my hormones are not being helpful, and the only feeling I can trust right now is my love for hubby and baby and our upcoming little girls. I honestly don’t know what I would do without them. They are my entire world and universe. They simply save me. And I need to be strong for these babies, they are not doing so well. Maybe that’s also part of what made me feel so down like this.
I was already feeling down a few days before Mother’s Day and didn’t feel like celebrating. I know my mom had betrayed me and done unforgivable things up to that point, but I couldn’t help but feel sad because… well, I no longer have a mom. I asked the aunties and grauntie not to acknowledge the day for me, and they understood. Grauntie did call me early in the morning, and it made me sob hard, we talked for about an hour, so go figure. Hubby and I got her a big gift to show our appreciation and gratitude because he says she has also stood as a mother figure for him during these chaotic months. Oh, yea, grauntie is a great woman, and she laughed so much about her nickname, btw, she loves it. Baby calls her that now, well “grantie.” Aunties started saying happy mother’s day the next day lol.
Anyway, hubby didn’t let the day pass for me. He brought me breakfast in bed, he cooked all day, and since we decided to stay home, he brought healthy junk food (approved by my doctors, he made sure about that) for us to stay in bed, or on the couch, watching movies, Bluey, and a marathon of my shitty show that he doesn’t like (but he enjoys in secret lol). He gave me some presents and flowers that baby picked herself. I don’t know when this man took the time to also help baby make a craft for me without me noticing. It was very cute. We decided to stay home, turn the lights off, and stay upstairs pretending we weren’t really there. We both couldn’t help but be concerned and a bit anxious about ILs showing up. We stayed locked upstairs just resting, snuggling, and cuddling.
I will try to summarize what happened when they showed up.
Baby was taking a nap in her room, and we were into our own stuff when they interrupted. We tried to ignore them, but MIL kept insisting, saying she knew we were home. She kept ringing the bell and then knocking on the door. They claimed they were visiting us because we couldn’t attend her reunion. It was only MIL and SIL (not beast SIL), and they were carrying bowls with food. Later I noticed it was only food they know I am allergic to or that I don’t like. After some minutes, we decided to just get rid of them. Hubby changed and went downstairs to warn them he was calling the police (he did that for proof that he asked them to leave, knowing they were not going to go away). MIL was very calm and kept saying shit, but hubby didn’t engage in her conversation. Important information: she asked a lot about me and baby, about our safety. I stayed upstairs, and peeking through the window, I noticed their car was parked on the other side of the street, out of the range of our door cam. Fucking creepy BIL was inside, I guess waiting for them.
I picked up my phone to take a picture of him and I had some unread texts from good SIL warning us ILs were coming and saying things like “be careful,” blah blah. She also said good BIL was heading over here so he could help take them out of our place, I guess. I gotta give points in favor of BIL because he stood up for hubby and even called their mother a liar.
So, we called the police on them, but they also called the police on us, on hubby. Fucking idiots. Fucking MIL. They called the police on hubby saying they believed there was a case of domestic violence happening in our house. They said we didn’t open the door and they were scared because they suspected I’ve been in danger and they hadn’t heard my voice or baby inside. To this point, we are not sure who made the call, but I believe it was creeypy BIL. Hubby had to open the door to talk to the officers, I also had to go out because they wanted to speak to me. Mind you, I was so stressed and just wanted to help hubby with the bullshit that I didn’t realize I was only wearing a top and leggings because, mind you again, I was comfy in my house before they decided to arrive. So, yea, they saw my belly and they officially know that I am pregnant. I, somehow, feel so violated by them knowing. Ugh, fucking idiot creepy BIL’s face and smirk and his eyes all over me still give me the chills. I want to believe he only does it because he knows it frightens me. Good BIL had arrived at this point too, so he also saw me but his reaction was the most normal of all. I guess he just got sad. I know he wanted to get close to me but he didn’t dare. Good, I guess.
A female officer separated me from the drama and asked me a bunch of questions in private. I brought her inside the house because baby was still sleeping upstairs. She kept glaring around, like looking for something suspicious, I suppose. The other officer talked with hubby and with a neighbor and he very soon concluded the accusations were all bullshit. They just asked to check on baby because MIL kept insisting. We had to explain that baby was actually her grandkid because she kept asking about her daughter, I just wanted to punch her in the face. I went to pick baby up, she was still asleep, and the cop I was talking with was nice enough to keep both of us inside the house. Baby ended up waking up and crying with all the trouble from outside, anyway. MIL heard her crying and she lost her calm, started to raise her voice. I couldn’t control myself and I poked my head out and told MIL that of course, baby was crying and it was all her fault, and I called her a bitch 🙄 This led to a verbal fight, just imagine everyone involved… and the cops. SIL was crying. I stayed inside but close enough to the door because I was worried about hubby. I overheard him asking if it was done and if he could go inside with us. They were leaving, officers were making them go away but MIL couldn’t just leave without causing more distress and told hubby she wished I bleed out and die while giving birth and that she hopes my baby is not his (because they changed the game, now I am the cheater). I instinctively opened the door to stop hubby from reacting but he was just there standing and staring at her. Ok, background: I had preeclampsia when baby was born, then after being sent home I got very ill and had to be rushed to the hospital because I got an infection. Hubby and everyone got super worried when I had to go back to the hospital. It was bad. Hubby thought the worst and he obviously talked with MIL about it, back at the time so yeah, she knew where to hurt him. Hubby said to good BIL something like “yes, this is the family you keep choosing.” He was like in shock. Hubby and I just went back inside and we hugged. Good BIL tried to talk to us but we ignored him, I know he was upset. He recently sent me a text I haven’t answered back. I have seen hubby sad and vulnerable, but the only time I’ve seen him actually cry was when his father passed away. This time he cried too and couldn’t let us go an inch away from him. I held back my tears. We were very jumpy and uncomfortable so we took some blankets and went to sleep in the other house. There’s no furniture, no lights, and no water yet in my dad’s house but it was better to know we were nowhere to be found. It was like camping for baby, she even asked for vampire stories that we invented for her right there. Then, hubby and I just hugged and cried our eyes out to sleep. I was simply angry and sad and upset that they took away our peace. I cried because this bitch keeps hurting my family, because they are making us run away from our own house, from wverything we have built and for what!? I am thankful we have my dad’s house to escape but it brings me bad memories and I also got a bit triggered that night, I guess. We talked a lot that night and we came to the same conclusion: the only thing that matters is that we have each other and we will never let them win.
No, it wasn’t enough for a RO. Police didn’t want to try for charges because all they saw was a family drama, which it was if you see it as an isolated incident. No, they didn’t go against the beats RO. We told and showed and give everythign to our lawyer.
Then my mom happened. I had a few voicemails from her, and I was weak, so I listened to them. This happened the next day. I waited for hubby so I wouldn’t have to listen to them alone. This was the biggest mistake of my life. We planned to have a nice dinner at home to save Mother’s Day and as an excuse to have a date but I ruined it all. I don’t know why I listened to all of them. She started all calm, victimizing herself but calm. She said happy Mother's Day to me, started to talk about baby, about me, and about my brother. She said she is very sad to be a mother without her kids. She said it would be easier if we were dead (yes, she said that), she would cope better with that truth. It escalated with each voicemail, to the point where she blamed me for what happened with her POS boyfriend and me. I had never heard her say something like this to me while growing up. Never. She claims she’s now all lonely because of me. She said she should have aborted me when she had the chance, as my dad suggested. This… I made me go numb. She accused me of seducing this man and that’s why he fell for me. Only thing I can think is that this POS has been manipulating her, idk but it hurt like hell. She told me that I should have stopped him. She blamed me too because, after that incident, she had lost all opportunities to recover her relationship with my dad. She then basically said our dad never really loved me and my brother, and that’s why he left and never came back. I started to spiral and, well, I barely remember my dad since they divorced. He came back when everything exploded, but before that… I don’t really have memories. I don’t know, she made me question a lot of things. Her tone was calm and sweet, which made it worse. She didn’t use the words or phrasing I am using right now either, her discourse made sense, this is basically what she meant. Of course, she also called me a bad mom too, and I couldn’t help but think about all the things good SIL said about baby and how I didn’t notice it. I started to blame myself for the condition of my baby twins. I am not a bad mom, I know that, but it got me right there. I thought about baby being bullied by her cousins, about MIL throwing up the food I packed for her right in front of her, about our little baby eating food from the floor and trembling because she was frightened. I can’t take out of my mind the image of baby trembling. And I cried as I hadn’t cried in a while. And then I started to remember a lot of other things about my life. I questioned myself again if my mom ever really loved us because growing up, it felt like she did, and I was so grateful I had my mom with me because she was by my side all the time after the POS happened. She was there when I started to struggle in my teens, when I wanted to die, when I started to hurt myself. My dad was there too, and I have beautiful memories with him, he stood for us, I became really close to him, he helped us a lot during that time, but there are a lot of blank spaces where he’s not around. He got another girlfriend, and that time he stayed close to us in the same city but he stopped visiting. Until we went to college, he got together with his current wife, and flew away. He was there if we ever needed money, he paid for our education, but I never reached out to him asking for any other type of help. We barely talked, I tell you he didn’t even knew hubby or baby. To be fair, he was comming over for our wedding but we had to cancel it because of covid. I kept spiraling about it. I got tangled in my mom’s words. I remembered the POS boyfriends I had and how I let them mistreat me, do whatever they wanted to do with me. I let that happen, but I now realize my mom was comfortable with it. I got over that and stopped letting it happen because of the aunties and therapy. Not my proudest moment, but I broke my phone after listening to all her audios.
My train of thought ended up the same: I am so, so thankful I met hubby, and the only thing that matters is that we have each other. Hubby and baby and the twins are the only things that kept me alive these days. They are my world. Still, I was/am? dealing with urges to hurt myself. It’s alright when I am with baby, it’s alright when I am with hubby, but night time and the moment I open my eyes in the morning… it has been tough. My mom put me in a very bad place. I let her put me in a very bad place again, but it will be the last time. She won’t take the good from me. No way. Hubby says she’s trying to isolate me and he might be right but she won’t get it.
Hubby says I should talk with my dad. I’ve been very distant with him lately, and I know he can feel it. I want to talk with him too about this, but I don’t even know what to say. I miss the aunties, I’ve been distant with them too. Last weekend, hubby and I went out to eat with one of them (the auntie that wrote the text when I told them I’m pregnant) and her husband. It was nice, we had fun. I’m telling them it is two girls this week. I didn’t want to tell them before because I am really scared about my babies. They are a bit smaller than they should be, and even if they are just supposed to be small babies, it worries me as this is not so good for twins. Also, they suspect baby B has a heart condition :( I told this to the auntie, she’s the only one of the group that knows about all the difficulties of my pregnancy, and it helps a lot that she knows. I can’t help to be worried, but I can be positive and happy and excited for them. I have to be positive and happy and excited for them. I know the love aunties will give them even in my womb is much needed now. And hubby and I are doing and will do whatever it takes to keep them safe.
So, I said fuckyoumom and changed my mood, Hubby was worried because we really don’t have ANYTHING for the twins, and we are also in the process of moving. He had tried to convinced me to start looking for stuff to clear my mind but I wasn’t in the mood. Well, we finally started to look for cribs (very difficult task tbh) and we bought their first onesies :) I’m letting the aunties shop for them too now (they’ve been insisting a lot lol) and it is very funny when they start sending pictures of plushies or toys or clothes and asking if they should buy everything x2 (I love them because they keep thinking about the big sister). They are still trying to win points to be the godmothers lmao. I called grauntie last week and apologized for not being so communicative lately, and she started to come over again during the mornings, she’s been helping me with house shores and with my feelings. This has also helped hubby a lot because he was so worried when I was home alone. I cried so much with grauntie about my mom, and she showed me some of her Facebook posts. I just wish she would stop posting baby’s pictures. Grauntie also encouraged me to talk to my dad and yea, I will. And we went out to look for baby stuff together. She also knows about my pregnancy problems, but she’s confident we all will be alright.
The most important thing of all: we told baby she’s going to be a big sister :) She believed my belly was growing because I ate a watermelon seed lol If you want to know her reaction, I’ll make another post about it because I don’t want to mix it with all the shit above.
We ended up having a late Mother’s Day (also a pretext to be close to each other) the next Sunday after the actual day. It was nice and it cheered me up. It was a surprise from hubby.
My car is all fixed now and bills were sent to the beast family but they haven’t paid. We have the RO but the idea of them still scares me a bit from time to time. We’ve been calm these days at home but we have been going to visit the other house from time to time to get used to it. We’ve been planning where to place our furniture and how to decorate just to clear our minds. Hubby said maybe we will be able to start moving in a week and a half or two complete weeks. Yup, we’re moving even if we only have our bed there. I have mixed feelings about it but I know it’s for the best.
What his family and my mom don’t realize is that their bullshit only makes hubby and me stronger as a couple. He relies on me and I rely on him, we don’t fall. We always come to the same conclusion that we are simply meant to be together and for our kids. I can feel how our love and respect to each other grows stronger. And I am holding tight to this. As I said before, the only feeling I can really trust right now is my love for my little (and growing) family. The love they give me is something I have never doubt, not even in my darkest moments. I still have urges from time to time, I feel anxious and sometimes I can’t sleep, as right now, but all this love keeps me sane within my not so sane moments. I’m alright, I’m getting better (also yes, I’m going to therapy and having more sessions than usual).
I know I always say this but I can’t be thankful enough for hubby… You know? Hubby always says that I saved him, but I believe it is the opposite.
We’re going to be alright. I have always known that.
And I’m back hehe

First off, I want to say Meet the Grahams is the best diss between both artists. In terms of songwriting, it is easily the most impressive from an artistic perspective, especially over Family Matters which was objectively all over the place. The Alchemist beat, Dot’s delivery, cadence, the 2nd and 4th verses, and the way Kendrick made it sound like he was looking at Drake as he rapped. Not to mention that ass whooping at the end of the song.
It’s been hilarious watching certain people try to disqualify the track because of the daughter ordeal (which was the worst out of the 4 verses on the song), meanwhile Drake is spreading (false) rumors and spraying allegations up and down each of his tracks yet none of those are ‘disqualified’.
In short, you have to take all these songs at face value. Either be consistent and call out all lies, or take the tracks at face value and judge them without playing truth or dare. If you do that, Kendrick blew Drake out of the water. Euphoria was the eulogy, Meet the Graham’s was the funeral and Not Like Us pissed on his grave. But Drake fans alike know that Kendrick needs to be held at a severe handicap (disregarding the best and most impactful diss) for this to even be a discussion.
Have some shame.

Hello, My name is Karol, I'm from Minnesota, and I'm new to Reddit. I don't expect this to get much attention, but I've been needing to get this off my chest for a while. So to jump right into it, there's this girl ive known for about eight years now and she has been a bit of a big part of my life. For the sake of this story, we are just going to call her by her middle name, Grace. I had first met her when I was sitting alone at breakfast one day in my elementary school cafeteria, and she and her sister came and sat with me. I was confused until we started talking, and I got to know her quite a bit. Flash forward to the first day of 3rd grade, where I walked into the classroom with my best friend Norma, and I saw Grace again, but this time she had much longer hair and was a little taller. I started to develop feelings for grace, not just normal feelings, though I felt like I really liked her. I didn't recognize Grace at the time; I thought this was a new student. I worked up the courage to talk to her, and that's when I realized it was grace. I didn't think she knew how much of a crush I had on her at the time. A few months into the school year, I met this girl, whom we'll call Lina. Me, Grace, and Lina started to all become friends, and one day we had indoor recess, and my friend Kayla invited me to play Uno with her and some other girls, but Lina also invited me to play Truth or Dare with her, Grace, and some other girls. I decided to go play truth or dare with Lina. It was my turn, and Lina said to me, "Truth or dare?" and I chose dare. She then proceeded to say, "Whisper in your crush's ear and tell them you like them." I began to grow nervous as I felt everyone in the circle looking at me, so I leaned over to Grace and whispered to her, "I like you, but if you don't like me back, don't say it while everyone is watching." Grace whispered back to me, "Well, I do like you," and that was the beginning of an era. Looking back on that moment as I am about to go into my sophomore year, I really wish I had never played truth or dare with them. I could've saved myself from so much bullying, so much drama, and from the worst thing that's ever happened to me: grace. But let me know if you want Part 2, since this is just the beginning.

Go ahead, ask me anything.

Cover Art!
Just because you’re transported to another world, doesn’t mean you’ll escape from your pain.
Abused by her parents, thirteen-year-old Frances only wants to be safe and for her life not to hurt so much. And when she and her class are transported to the magical world of Durannon to fight the monsters invading the human kingdoms and defeat the self-titled Demon King, Frances is presented with a golden opportunity. If she succeeds, Frances will have the home she never had. If she fails, Frances will be summoned back to the home she escaped.
Yet, despite her newfound magic and friends, Frances finds that trauma is not so easily lost. She is dogged by her abuse and its physical and invisible scars. Not only does she have to learn magic, she has to survive the nightmares of her past, and wrestle with her feelings of doubt and self-loathing.
If she can heal from her trauma, though, she might be able to defeat the Demon King and maybe, just maybe, she can find a home for herself.
[The Beginning] [<=Chapter 217] [Chapter Index and Blurb] [Chapter 219 June 11 or see the next chapter now on Patreon]
The Fractured Song Index
Discord Channel Just let me know when you arrive in the server that you’re a Patreon so you can access your special channel.
***
Ginger makes an offer to Lakadara. The rest of Telkandra's remaining brood discuss the fate of their allies.
“Not good?” Sara asked as Helias strode into the tent and made his way straight to the bottle of wine.
“Not good,” Helias muttered.
Sara nodded woodenly. “Privacy spell?
The tauroll waved his sheathed Fangroar and after pouring himself and his wife a drink, sat down. “We’re safe. Oh Galena, this is really not good.”
“How dead are we?” Sara asked, her tone light.
“We’re not dead. We’re just in a lot of danger and even if we somehow force the humans to retreat, we’ve lost this war,” said Helias.
“Explain.”
Helias drank deep, noting that Sara was also drinking deep as well. “Thorgoth is going after the humans. That part of the plan is as good as it gets. We’ll be attacking them, and using the dragons, whilst our forces hold off Titania. Our objectives are also well-chosen.” Helias buried his head into his hands and let out a deep groan. “But winning this doesn’t change anything.”
“If we can defeat the humans, why won’t that change anything?” Sara bit her lip. “Unless it renders us unable to beat Titania?”
“Yes. Even on the chance we beat the humans we won’t be able to invade them, we won’t be able to defeat Titania. We’d be at a stalemate and both armies would have to withdraw.” His hands dropping to the table, Helias stared at his wife. “And we don’t have any reserves left. We’re going to lose the war, even if Thorgoth lives.”
“If we defeat the humans—”
The general shook his head. “By defeat, I mean we’ll hurt them but we can’t prevent them from withdrawing. We might kill a few of their leaders, their important mages and Otherworlders, but they will still have soldiers. After coming so close, they won’t surrender. They’ll keep attacking until they kill enough of Thorgoth and Berengaria’s supporters that nobody will help them, or until both of them die.”
“Alright so, what do we do?” Sara asked. Helias looked at his wife, noting how still she sat. Her wings were clamped tight to her back and her lips were drawn tight.
“Sara, I don’t have good answers.”
Sara steepled her trembling fingers as best she could. “They’re going to be better than mine. I don’t know anything about war.”
“Right. Well, you need to surrender to the humans if you are captured. Present yourself as a non-combatant. Cry, scream, anything to declare that you don’t mean any harm,” Helias said.
“Why not Titania?” Sara asked.
“She has every incentive to kill you off and far less compunction about doing so. Killing our family off would allow her to have more land to give away to her loyalists. In contrast, the humans have Erlenberg troops fighting with them along with those of the Lightning Battalion. They’re going to be far more friendly to Alavari civilians,” Helias said.
Soft hands, grabbed onto Helias’s waist with a surprisingly firm grip. “What about you? I can get away, but how are you going to survive this?”
“I don’t know. I—”
“Don’t you dare! Our daughter needs her father and I need my husband!”
The general stared at his wife. “Sara, I can’t surrender to the humans if we win. They want me dead.”
Sara refilled Helias’s glass. “Then you need to help Thorgoth defeat them.”
“Then what? We’re never winning this war. Thorgoth is going to be invaded and—”
Cutting him off with the clink of her goblet against the table, Sara hissed, “And what? Why think that far? We can plan for that after this battle, so long as you are still here and with me.”
Letting out a breath Helias pushed his hair back and allowed himself a sigh. Reaching across the table, he took his wife’s hand.
“Sara, you’re right, but you know you can escape this if Thorgoth is defeated.”
The harorc placed her other hand on top of his. “We’re partners. I need you. We need you. So promise me that you’ll do your damndest to live.”
Helias closed his eyes and nodded. “I promise. First things first, before we turn in we need to talk to the dragons.”
***
Fennokra stalked slowly toward the camp. This wasn’t the collapsed side-passage where she and Yolandra had some privacy. This was the main camp where Thorgoth and their army were preparing for what had to be the final battle.
It was also where her siblings were swallowing the last of what seemed to be a side of salted pork.
“Velkandra, Makentra, we need to talk.”
Their second-eldest sister licked her lips, her neck rising to Fennokra’s level. “I am assuming you mean in private?”
“Of course.” Fennokra could see Velkandra’s haunches tensing to raise herself higher. Her sister was trying to look down on her. Allowing her head to dip, she held her height.
“Alright.” Velkandra flicked her tail and Makentra, licking his lips, followed them.
Since their enemies had set up their siege camp behind them, the Alavari camp had been reduced in size. Still, there was the alcove of the collapsed tunnel. Whilst couriers and soldiers crossed across this natural cavern to the defenses on the other side, they kept a good distance away.
Yolandra was waiting for them, scratching something into the cave wall. Fennokra let out a rumble in her throat and her sister turned from the wall suddenly, shaking her head.
“Velkandra, Mankentra—”
Velkandra puffed a cloud of smoke out. “What’s this all about?” she hissed, lips drawn back to show teeth.
Fennokra took a step away from her sister to take Yolandra’s side, her eyes narrowed. “Are you joking? Do you not think we should at least discuss what is going on?”
“And what would be the point? It is a bit late to be having this discussion. The course of the winds have been chosen,” said Velkandra.
Yolandra rose to her full height on her four legs, but even so she was still shorter than the silent Makendra. “The winds can be fickle, Velkandra, and where we are is proof.”
Velkandra pursed her lips, eyes for the first time, looking toward the ground. “The survival of our family is tied to that of Thorgoth. To abandon him would be death by the hand of the Stormcaller and her allies or by his hand.”
“Besides, if we were to abandon Thorgoth’s cause, that would be dishonorable. We promised to assist him,” said Makendra.
Fennokra blinked at her brother’s tone. It was quiet and yet there was a touch of a deep growl to his voice. His claws were ever so slightly digging into the ground.
“We are dragons. We can think and make decisions for ourselves. We are allowed to consider other options, are we not?” Fennokra asked.
Velkandra’s tail flicked violently side to side as her neck turned to her younger sibling. “Then why does it sound as if you wish to follow in the wingbeats of our elder sister?”
“Who we killed. I was there. I lost a claw striking her down!” Fennokra raised one clawed hand, flexing the remaining digits.
“On that, why did we have to kill Lakadara?”
All golden eyes fixed on Yolandra, who held the gaze of her siblings with a contemptuous scowl.
“Lakadara betrayed us,” said Velkandra, almost growling.
“I’ve been thinking over what happened. Lakadara said nothing about betraying our mother. She merely was questioning if Thorgoth was trustworthy,” Yolandra said.
A scowl flaring his nostrils, Makentra growled. “He fed us, trained us in how the humans and their allies fought. Hid us from their eyes—”
“And now Caldra is dead!” Yolandra exclaimed.
“Which is why we must kill the Stormcaller and her friends! So we can avenge him and our mother!” Velkandra almost completely unfurled her wings. Only the tips slapping the stone forced her to pull them back.
“Then what?” Yolandra asked.
Velkandra frowned. “Then what? We’d have our revenge—”
Yolandra’s tail cracked against the ground. “Then what? You all must have heard of what Thorgoth is capable of. What he’s done to others.”
Makentra rolled his eyes. “Sara’s story is just a story. She might have been just trying to turn you.”
“She was honest and she is not the only tale I’ve heard. You must have heard rumors of what Thorgoth did to his own son, Teutobal,” said Fennokra.
“Propaganda,” Velkandra hissed through her gritted teeth, while smoke wafted through the gaps. “In any case, we have no other option. We fight or we die.”
Fennokra, her claws grinding against the floor, had had enough.
“Velkandra, Makentra, have you ever considered that Thorgoth is perhaps using us for his own goals? We have not even considered what he might do to us after we’ve destroyed the humans and their allies. How do we know the Stormcaller and her allies might treat us better? Besides in the first place, she never intended to kill our mother—”
Fennokra blinked. She was flying backwards, something hard was bearing her into the wall. Dizzy as if struck by one of the Stormcaller’s spells, she realized that the force was the foreclaws of her elder sister. Mad rage lit those golden eyes that were the exact same shade as hers. Horrified, Fennokra tried to throw Velkandra off, but her sister was larger and heavier than her.
“Say that again. I dare you to say that again—ARGH!”
Velkandra rolled off, forced off of Fennokra by the Yolandra shoving into her side. As the elder dragon recovered, the smallest of Telkandra’s brood hissed, “It’s the truth! You are a fool to deny it!”
An ugly sneer on her lips, wings quivering with fury, Velkandra snorted. “The truth? Oh right so we are speaking the truth then. Well here’s the truth. Our kind is doomed!”
Makentra blinked. “Sister?”
“Of course Thorgoth is going to get rid of us or try to after this campaign. He has to, but right now he needs us and that’s what we need to rely on until we gain more strength. Of course, whether he wins or the Stormcaller’s allies win, how can we expect to survive in a world dominated by these lesser species hm? How could they ever not see us as a threat?”
Velkandra stalked toward the wide-eyed Fennokra and Yoandra. Her head turned side to side as she fixed her sisters with wild wide eyes.
“Well? Tell me Fennokra. Speak the truth Yolandra. Or are you both too afraid to admit that our kind are doomed and the only thing is to live as long as we can and hopefully avenge those that hurt us as we do so.”
“You’d have us fly to our deaths?” Makentra asked.
The stammering voice brought Velkandra around. Extending a wing, she touched its tip to her brother’s. “I would at least have us fly together.”
Fennokra shook her head. “We’d knowingly fly with a murderer of children and someone who would want to kill us after we’ve stopped being helpful to him.”
“And we have no other options,” said Makentra. Letting out a breath, he rose to his claws and walked away. “I’ll see you tomorrow, sisters.”
Velkandra, without another word, turned for the exit. “You know it’s true, Fennokra, Yolandra.”
Fennokra closed her eyes. Yolandra, though, narrowed hers. “Doesn’t change that Lakadra’s blood is on our claws.”
Velkandra flinched and left. She strode away so quickly she nearly stepped on Helias and Sara as they came to the cave. She gave the pair no acknowledgement other than a growl.
“See you tomorrow, General,” said Makentra, his tone curt. “We will talk to King Thorgoth ourselves for the plan’s details.”
“Of course,” said Helias. He bowed as the pair left before turning to Yolandra and Fennokra. “I believe we missed something important?”
“Be honest, General Helias. Even if we succeed tomorrow, your king has no use for us after we help him kill the Stormcaller, am I correct?” Fennokra asked.
Sara and Helias didn’t say anything. Their slight move to stand closer so they could hold hands was enough.
“I thought so,” said Fennokra. She let out a sigh and glanced at Yolandra, who nodded. “We will be on the battlefield tomorrow. Where are we going?”
“You’re going with me. We’re attacking the forces sallying from Kairon-Aoun. The plan is that you dragons breathe flame over their army to soften them before we attack.
“Understood. Any questions Fennokra?” Yolandra asked.
Fennokra shook her head. What could be asked anyway?”
Yolandra flashed the pair a joyless smile. “For what it is worth, you two have been good caretakers to us. Even if it was to preserve your own lives.”
Helias didn’t bow. Instead he extended a hand. Yolandra stared at him, but Fennokra, recognizing the gesture, extended a single talon.
“May you always be able to see the sun.” At the dragon’s blink, Helias smiled. “It’s an Alavari saying. It may come from when we used to be enslaved by the Goblin Empire. It means good luck.”
Yolandra nodded and Fennokra found herself smiling.
“Our mother taught us a saying as well. May you never fly alone. I wish that for you both,” said Fennokra.
“Thank you,” said Sara in a quiet voice. She curtsied and the two dragons dipped their heads. They watched Helias and Sara leave with placid smiles.
Then, when nobody was looking, they turned from the entrance to hide their bulks as best they could. The gloomy light of the alcove their only curtain of privacy.
***
Frances slowed slightly as they approached Lakadara’s enclosure. However, Ginger did not slow down.
“Hold on, Ginger, what’s the plan?” Frances asked.
Adjusting her new crown mid-stride, Ginger said, “I’ll show you. I’m certain it’ll work, though.”
Frances’ eyebrows rose. “Is that crown getting to your head already?”
The new Queen of Erisdale flashed a slightly nervous grin over her shoulder. “Yes actually, but I think that’s a good thing in some way. Don’t you?”
Frances found herself nodding. It was strange to see her friend even more confident than usual and so comfortable in the regal crown that she wore atop of a standard Lightning Battalion light blue uniform. Yet she rather enjoyed the new gait that Ginger had.
“I do.” Frances smirked. “Your Majesty.”
Ginger rolled her eyes. “Fuck you.”
Giggling, Frances stopped herself as they drew even closer to Lakadara. The dragon was drawing herself up, placing her massive foreclaws over each other.
“Lakadara. I am Ginger, the new Queen of Erisdale. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”
The dragon coughed, blowing out a puff of smoke. “Greetings Ginger, Queen of Erisdale. I’m sorry for your predecessor’s demise.” Lakadara’s golden eyes narrowed. “Why are you here?”
Ginger dipped her head. “Thank you and as to why I’m here. I have a proposition. If you accept it, I will grant you and your kin, the domain of the Erisdalian mountains marked by the Kwent River Valley, Freeburg and Athelda-Aoun as your home in perpetuity, so long as you do not attack humans unless in self-defense.”
“I am unfamiliar with human geography. From the Stormcaller’s expression, I assume that is a lot.”
Frances swallowed and closed her mouth, but she didn’t question her friend. Ginger, still smiling slyly, nudged her. “It is. Frances, can you lend me a hand here?”
Nodding, Frances closed her eyes and imagined a rough map of Erisdale and its territories. With a wave of Ivy’s Sting she created an image of Erisdale, highlighting in red the expanse of the mountains that bordered Alavaria and Erisdale. The area that Ginger had described sketched a rough red triangle between the three points. It was a fairly sizeable area with a low and Alavari human population.
“My husband is in negotiations with Queen Titania and I’ll have to talk to Frances and Prince Timur, but we are quite certain that Athelda-Aoun will also be included in this area,” Ginger said.
Lakadara’s golden eyes were flickering as she examined the land. Suddenly, she turned, long neck arching toward the Erisdalian Queen. “And what must I do? Fight on your kingdom’s behalf?”
Ginger shook her head. “No.”
“No?”
“Nope. If you would like to do so we can renegotiate the agreement, but my husband and I fully intend to grant you this land.”
The dragon’s tail lifted up as her eyes narrowed. “Explain yourself and the favor you seek. This is far too generous.”
“Let me explain myself first. If what I’m told by my experts is correct, you can lay eggs by yourself without a mate, but it takes time right? A few decades?”
“Yes. Still, that doesn’t explain—”
“Here me out. This war is going to end. We may lose, but if we win, banishing you to the north is making you Queen Titania’s problem and she’ll have more than enough problems to deal with. You might just end up coming south again and we know how that ended. I’d prefer to avoid that so that means we need to make an agreement. You need a new home and I need peace for Erisdale. If the kingdom has to give up some poor agricultural land then I’m all for it.”
The dragon nodded. “I see, but why so much land? Why not just give me a cave? Or request my service as Thorgoth did?”
“And how will you eat? Hunt? Where will your grown children go? I’m making an agreement that will last for decades, not just a few years. As for service? I was tempted, but you wouldn’t agree to that anyway and why should you? We haven’t given you any reason to agree.” Ginger gave Frances a wave to dispel the map. “Maybe in the future we can work something out, especially if the dragon population increases. Your service in return for more food, but again, I want to start us off on the right path, not the left path.”
“Left path?” Lakadara asked.
“Erisdalian expression. It means the wrong path,” Frances said helpfully.
Lakadara nodded slowly. “You still ask for a boon, though.”
Ginger nodded. “Yes. I want you to speak to your siblings. Before the upcoming battle starts, tell them of my deal with you. So long as they choose to accept that deal and defect, then I will have it so our forces will not hurt them. After that, you may leave. I will not request you to fight with us.”
“You want me to show myself to Thorgoth? To the siblings that tried to kill me?” Lakadara asked, mouth agape.
Ginger stepped closer to the dragon, who lifted her head away from the queen. “I want you to save your siblings. I want you to save yourself from becoming the last purple dragon in existence. I would rather you not be alone, stewing in hatred for my kingdom and our allies who brought down your family, even if we had just cause. I want peace. What do you want?”
“How do I know I can trust you?” The dragon suddenly grimaced. “Ah, right, you want a lasting peace. You have every reason to want peace.”
Ginger, arms crossed tapped her foot. Frances could see how stiff her friend was, but the action was also comforting. That her magic-less friend had such control over the situation, despite being faced with the dragon was rather…badass.
Letting out a puff of smoke that slowly drifted into the cavern, the dragon pondered the queen’s proposal. Frances held her breath and yet the dragon remained silent, only her tail moving from side to side.
Ginger waited, still content to wait for the dragon’s answer. Frances couldn’t. The tension coiled in her chest, waiting to explode.
“Lakadara, what do you want for your future?” Frances asked.
The dragon glanced at Frances, golden eyes wide. She turned back to Ginger, who continued to stand tall, awaiting Lakadara’s answer patiently.
“I accept your offer, and your promise for the future,” said Lakadara, dipping her head.
“We are glad that you wish the same as we do,” said Ginger. She extended her hand and Lakadara, took her claw and put the tip of it on the queen’s palm.
*Author’s Note: Queenly Ginger was really neat to write 😀 *

I've been thinking about this a lot, how can a Music/song be considered objectively Good? So I've gathered a few points to enlighten this subject.
Firstly, music like most things can be quantifiable and arranged. By definition, music is the art of composing different sounds to form a melody or an harmony so that should be the basis of what would be a good song, in other words a nicely arranged group of sounds. Now, there are different rules when arranging these sounds and musicians throughout history have developed whole lot of theories about it that are still used today to actually make songs. With different instruments we should be able to make sounds that represents something like a feeling or an image and that's what makes them so meaningful. Like the song on the beach in the movie "her" for example, it was made in a way that we feel the warmth and love the two characters are experiencing or in exit music by Radiohead where the music crescendo into that incredible peak where whe know it's the culminant point of Romeo and Juliet's story. Well obviously it isn't only about following rules and making textbook music it's also about mixing and breaking rules.
Secondly, my all time favorite about creating art especially music is experimenting. Obviously genres where created so we can locate ourselves in this big musical iceberg but they can also be used in a way to create revolutionary sounds by mixing them and getting creative with them. I know it can be a double-edged weapon and it can turn into a disastrous load of "what the f am i hearing" but sticking to only one rule could get boring overtime and we constantly need evolution in our world. Most of the music we know today would never existed if it wasn't for the pioneers that dared to experiment. I think one of the biggest example of that is Hip Hop, a pillar of modern music right now that wouldn't exist if it weren't for DJs that looped drums and old music samples and the MCs that had the idea to rhyme over a beat. Now that we're talking culture, what makes a Music good is also it's cultural value, right?
So thirdly, the quality of the music could be mirrored in it's values for us the listeners as an individual and as a community. Music as an art has the burden of carrying years and years of history and culture so it has a considerable impact on our society as a whole. Music weights heavy on how we perceive things and helps us at better understanding ourselves and each other, it serves as a catalyst whether it's for the artists or the listeners. Music can bring the wind of revolution or the sweet taste of nostalgia, it could represent a whole movement or just one tortured soul in a bedroom. Professor John Keating once said "Poetry, Beauty and Romance... These are what we stay alive for" and for me Music is the embodiment of that and should be truthful to that in order to be considered good.
To wrap it up, music must then be well arranged while fused with different inspirations and should represent something powerful to be considered objectively Good. However we can't ignore the subjectivity variable because we all have our own tastes, vulnerability and cultural belonging to judge music.

I am officially out. Two nights I made the decision to finally walk out, and I am definitely officially out of that household. All the years, all the abuse, all the venom and narcissism and manipulation, gone in one night. I am starting to feel so light, so free. And it all started with one little argument to finally push me over the edge. So for context, I'm 22. I'm an international student from Mexico, and I'm living right now in the United States, studying a I tried running away from the house a little over a year ago, back when I still lived in Mexico. It didn't work. I didn't have a support network, it wasn't a generally good environment, and my parents had way too many connections to make it safe for me to go outside and enjoy life without being stalked. I ended up going back to their home, giving them a second chance under the guise of them "having changed" and us going to therapy.(All of this of course after they broke into my home to get me to "talk") Obviously, things went back to what they always are. Now the whole fallout starts about two weeks ago. My parents went on a trip back to Mexico. I stayed home alone, and the entire week I kept thinking to myself, I was so free. I felt more at peace than I had been in months without them at home. While they were gone, I went on a trip with my cousin to my aunt's house. I had a talk with that whole side of the family (My aunt, my uncle, my cousins) and I finally opened up to them about years of abuse. Years of pain and complaints that I kept in me. And I had to be honest with myself and tell them "I'm not happy there anymore". I received hugs, they cried with me, and they told me that they've known she had a problem for years, they just didn't know the extent and depth. Pretty much my entire extended family has beef with my mom because she's put in so much effort in burning every bridge in her life with the way she treats people. I was finally seen and understood and validated by family, they told me "This is not okay". They told me "We are here for you"
Fast forward to two nights ago. My family and I have, by this point, moved to a new place to rent, and my dad buys some Ikea furniture for our rooms. It's night time and I'm in my room assembling a bedframe and a night stand. I am so tired and done with the whole process, and my Narcissist mother comes in. I placed my bed away from either wall of my room so that there's space for me to jump into bed from either side. I guess she didn't appreciate that (even though it's MY room and it doesn't affect her), and the following conversation ensued: "You're gonna need 2 night stands for that bed placement to work" "Huh? What do you mean?" "One space is gonna be empty if you put your bed there (??)" "Oh but I'm not placing the night stand there" "What do you mean you're not?" "Yeah, I'm gonna place it over here. Not next to the bed" "Well that's not where it goes, it's supposed to go next to your bed" "Yeah, but I don't like it next to my bed, I like it here" By this point she starts raising her voice "Yeah! And I'm telling you that's not what night stands are made for." "Well I don't like it there! It's my room" "Lower your tone!" "I'm not even yelling at you" "Yes you are!!!" My dad comes in the room. As usual, he immediately takes her side without asking questions "Hey!! Calm down!! Lower your tone [my name]!!" "I'm not even yelling" "Yes you are, you don't realize the way you talk to us" My mom suddenly brings up something from earlier in the day. I introduced her to a college classmate I ran into, and I guess she made up some narrative in her mind: "And you know what!! The way your friend said hi to me earlier today, I know you've been talking about me. He didn't even want to hug me!!! I know you've been talking badly about me behind my back, like you always do!!!" (This literally never happened. I'm not even that close to this classmate. He knows next to nothing about my personal life) "What are you even talking about?? No I didn't!" "Yes you did!!" "No I did not" "I know for a fact you did!! You've done it before, liar" "Ugh you know what? You're imagining stuff. You're making stuff up that isn't there. I'm telling you I didn't." She walks out of the room rolling eyes at me like I'm some idiot she has to deal with, and my dad stays in the room with me. He goes on this very vague and inflammatory lecture about 'the boy who cried wolf' and how my actions have repercussions on my reputation. About how 8 years ago I complained about them to some friend and now they can't trust me anymore. I tell him that I'm not doing that and that, I'm not sure what hoops they expect me to jump through to "prove" I'm trustworthy again. My mom suddenly walks in the room again, and she says "If you've changed so much, why don't you let us go through your computer, huh?? since you're so different now and you've changed so much!! Go on [dad's name], take his computer and go through it, let's see what we find" This of course with the intent of checking all my emails, messages, content, anything. As I've posted here before, my parents absolutely hate my significant other, and I know that if they go on my computer and see my messages with her, it's going to catapult me into a whole new realm of abuse and isolation. Plus, I'm 22. Why should my parents have access to MY computer and my private matters?? This whole time I am thinking, "I can't do this anymore. I can't stand this. I can't live like this, I can't anymore. When will I put a stop to this??" My dad stands up from where he was sitting next to me, and he goes "Well come on then, [my name]. Are you gonna show us?" My mom, like a comedically evil witch is barking orders with a sinister smile and a vengeful tone on her "Take his computer now!" "You WILL give us the password [my name]" This entire time, I am silent. I am silent for what seems like an eternity. In reality it must have been a minute or two. Finally, they snap after watching me silently "Give us the password now!!" And finally my survival instincts kick in. All those years, all that time. And I have had it. I can't do it anymore. I stood up, I shrugged, I adjusted my pants, and with my firm voice I went "No." The shock on their faces was like the shock you saw at the Oscars when Will Smith slapped Chris Rock "EXCUSE YOU!! GIVE IT TO US NOW!! REBELLIOUS CHILD!! GIVE IT UP NOW!!" "No. I won't." And immediately as if on cue "Get out of this house. Get out right now" "Okay!" I started grabbing a bunch of sweaters and items, and my mom immediately goes "You're not taking anything out of this house!!" "Okay!" And I head downstairs to get out. Immediately they run after me to block the door "You're not leaving" "Yes I am, you just kicked me out" "Oh you ARE kicked out!!! After we talk!" "Nope, I'm leaving now" There's a small tussle and fight. They try to grab me, I'm stronger than them, I make it out of the house while my mother is saying something about calling the police or whatever. I'm outside the house with my dad and he won't let go, it's just me and him now while that woman is inside doing who knows what. My dad is holding on to my arm "[my name], please let's talk please please" "Let go of me" "Please, I don't want to" "If you don't let go of me right now, I'm gonna start screaming and pounding on the neighbor's door, and it's gonna escalate" He lets go, and finally, I lay it all on him. Years and years of misery, of frustration, which probably warrants a whole other post and which I recorded in my voice memos just in case" I even told him that I know my mom has a mental illness, something I've never expressed to him before. He told me "Please don't tell me what it is", and I respected that. We were outside in the cold talking for about an hour and a half. Until finally my mother opened the door again, this time trying to act innocent and shy and harmless. "You guys are still out here? Come back inside, it's cold. Please, talk the rest inside". My dad tells her: "He doesn't want to come back inside. He says he won't" "Ugh, well then honey, let him grab his things and leave! He doesn't want to, fine!" and I go "Thank you" I head back inside and start packing everything. My mom tries to make small talk, and I'm very civil and answer back normally. Until she goes "You can't take the laptop with you though" "Um yes I can." and back again with her condescending tone "Umm no you can't" "Yes I can, it's mine." "No it's not, we bought it for you" "Yeah, but you gave it to me as a gift. You can't just take gifts back. It's mine" "No!!! That's ours!! And you are LEAVING IT!!" "No!" She reaches for the computer, at the same time I reach for a shirt next to the computer, she sees my arm approaching and she starts screeching like an animal "DONT YOU TOUCH ME!!! DON'T DARE LAY A SINGLE FINGER ON ME!! IF YOU TOUCH A SINGLE HAIR I'LL HAVE YOU IN JAIL FOR A YEAR" (yeah ok) I just had to smile at how dramatic she is. "No one's touching you. Calm down" "YOU'RE A MANIPULATOR. YOU LIAR!! YOU'RE A REBELLIOUS UNGRATEFUL CHILD IS WHAT YOU ARE. YOU THINK YOU'RE LEAVING THIS HOUSE WITH THIS COMPUTER? YOU'LL HAVE TO GO THROUGH ME. YOU THINK YOU'RE TAKING THIS COMPUTER? HUH?" And then she joyfully slammed my laptop against the table. It broke open and pieces flew out. It got completely bent out of shape and obviously rendered useless. She had that narcissistic smile, thinking full of joy, that this would be my last straw, waiting to see how much pain she had inflicted on me by smashing something I worked with. But instead, I laughed in her face. I laughed, and it ignited the fire even more. What followed was a barrage of insults and manipulation tactics "YOU DESERVED ALL THOSE TIMES I BEAT YOU!! TRAITOR. LEECH. JUDAS" (even though she denied she ever even beat me. also, if I'm Judas does that make her god herself in her mind?) I finally finish packing my stuff after going "Ok. Mhm. Wow. Ok. Sure. Uh huh" for 10 minutes. Finally she's done unloading her venom after I mock her face and voice, and she tells me "When you leave, close your door on the way out" "Uh huh, okay" My dad is disappointed. I'm not sure he even knows what I'm feeling or thinking "I see you've made your decision. I wish you'd think about it." "I've been thinking about it for years" "It hurts me that you're doing this" "It hurts me too dad. Sorry this happened" I called my cousin that I mentioned at the start "Hey, sorry to do this so late. Could you come pick me up?" "Yeah, are you okay? What's going on?" "Something happened. I need a place to stay" "Okay, on my way" While I was outside waiting for him to pick me up, my mother tried one last tactic. "Goodbye son" with a warm motherly voice she could only fake. "Goodbye." "You know I love you right? and I forgive you for everything you did" "Hm." "Can I get a hug before you leave?" I wanted to be petty, but for my own conscience I felt that if they crash and died tomorrow, I'd regret not having some sort of goodbye hug. However fake and spiteful it was. So I hugged her very briefly and with a bit of disgust. "I'm glad you called your cousin. Just tell him the truth, say you decided to walk out of here. Not that we kicked you out" Those were the last words we spoke. That we will probably ever speak to each other. That was her concern, what I'd say about her to others.
Once my cousin picked me up, I loaded everything I had in his car, and off we went to his house. I told him everything, and he was glad I had finally put a stop to it. He understood, and now we are here. This is the most free I've ever felt. I'm going to continue my studies without feeling judged at home. I have a proper home now, where I am treated fairly, wanted. There's been so many phone calls, with my aunt, my mother. These days my mother hasn't bothered contacting me. I think she knows she's lost all power on me. My dad on the other hand has sent texts concerned about my well being. I've answered them briefly and he's been respectful enough to not try to do more. My mother from what I last heard called my cousin (He's 33 btw) threatening him with all sorts of insults. My cousin told her she's officially not welcome at the house, and if she shows up, cops will be called on her. My girlfriend is so happy to finally see me out of this horrible house, as am I. I don't know what to even do with all this freedom. I'll take it easy and slow for a bit. No drinking, no crazy stuff. I need to process a lot still, but I'm so glad this is finally over. For years she loved to tell me "Everything you do in secret will be shouted from the rooftops" To threaten and scare me into "confessing" things. Well, if you're reading this, you witch, I am now shouting what you did, and will continue to shout from the rooftops that I beat you. Witch, I know you hate that word. Sorry, not sorry. Thank you everyone. TL;DR: Huge argument with parents about night stand that escalated into me leaving the house for good. Am staying with cousin. Mother has been warned to not come close or cops will be called.

PLAYBOY Interview With Conan O'Brien Interview by Kevin Cook For Playboy Magazine February 1998
A candid conversation with the preppie prince of "Late Night" about his rocky start, his show's secret one-day cancellation and how David Letterman saved the day.
He was polite. He was funny. He gave us a communicable disease.
At 34 Conan O'Brien is hotter than the fever he was running when we met in his private domain above the "Late Night" sound stage. A gangly freckle-faced ex-high school geek he is "one of TV's hottest properties" according to "People" magazine. The host of "Late Night With Conan O'Brien" has become his generation's king of comedy.
Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown. Congested too, but O'Brien has far more to worry about than his head cold. A perfectionist who broods over one bad minute in an otherwise perfect hour of TV, he worries he might be anhedonic, "I have trouble with success," he says, "I was raised to believe that if something good happens something bad is coming." Sure things look good now "Rolling Stone" calls "Late Night" "the hottest comedy show on TV." Ratings are better than ever, particularly among 18- to 34-year-olds, the viewers advertisers crave.
But O'Brien only works harder. Despite his illness he taped two shows in 26 hours on three hours' sleep. He smoothly interviewed Elton John then burst into coughing fits during commercials. Later in his crammed corner office overlooking Manhattan traffic Conan the Cool gulped Dayquil gel caps. He coughed spewing microbes.
"Sorry, sorry," he said. Of course O'Brien can't complain. He came seriously close to falling to being banished behind the scenes as just another failed talk show host.
At his first "Late Night" press conference he corrected a reporter who called him a relative unknown, "Sir I am a complete unknown," he said. That line got a laugh, but soon O'Brien looked doomed. His September 13, 1993 debut began with O'Brien in his dressing room preparing to hang himself only to be interrupted by the start of his show. Before long his career was hanging by a thread. Ratings were terrible. Critics hated the show. Tom Shales of "The Washington Post" called it as "lifeless and messy as roadkill." Shales said O'Brien should quit.
Network officials held urgent meetings discussing the Conan O'Brien debacle. Should they fire him? How should they explain their mistake?
In the end of course he turned it around. The network hung with him long enough for the ratings to improve and the host of the cooler-than-ever "Late Night" now defines comedy's cutting edge just as Letterman did ten years ago.
Even Shales loves "Late Night" these days. He calls O'Brien's turnaround "one of the most amazing transformations in television history."
O'Brien was born on April 18, 1963 in Brookline, Massachusetts. His father, a doctor, is a professor at Harvard Medical School. His mother, a lawyer, is a partner at an elite Boston Law firm. Conan, the third of six children became a lector at church and a misfit at school. Tall and goofy, bedeviled with acne, he tried to impress girls with jokes. That plan usually bombed, but O'Brien eventually found his niche at Harvard where he won the presidency of the "Harvard Lampoon" in 1983 and again in 1984 - the first two-time "Lampoon" president since humorist Robert Benchley held the honor 85 years ago.
After graduating magna cum laude with a double major in literature and American history he turned pro. Writing for HBO's "Not Necessarily The News." O'Brien was earning $100,000 a year before his 24th birthday. But writing was never enough.
He honed his performance skills with the Groundlings, a Los Angeles improv group. There he worked with his onetime girlfriend Lisa Kudrow, now starring on "Friends." But Conan was not such a standout. In 1988 he landed a job at "Saturday Night Live" - but as a writer, not as on-air talent. In almost four years on the show O'Brien made only fleeting appearances, usually as a crowd member or security guard. His writing was more memorable. He wrote (or co-wrote) Tom hanks' "Mr Short-Term Memory" skits as well as the "pump you up" infosatire of Hanz and Franz and the nude beach sketch in which Matthew Broderick and "SNL" members played nudists admiring one another's penises. With dozens of mentions of the word that hit was the most penis-heavy moment in TV history. It helped O'Brien win an Emmy for comedy writing.
In 1991 he quit "SNL" and moved on to "The Simpsons" where he worked for two years. His urge to perform came out in wall-bouncing antics in writers' meetings. "Conan makes you fall out of your chair" said "Simpsons" creator Matt Groening. O'Brien's yen to act out was so strong that he spurned Fox's reported seven-figure offer to continue as a writer. He was driving for the spotlight.
By then David Letterman had announced he was turning shin - leaving NBC taking his ton-rated act to CBS. Suddenly NBC was up a creek without a host. The network turned to Lorne Michaels, O'Brien's "Saturday Night Live" boss. Michaels enlisted Conan's help in the host search planning to use him in a behind-the-scenes job. But when Garry Shandling, Dana Carvey and almost every other star turned down the chore of following Letterman, Michaels finally listened to Conan's crazy suggestion, "Let me do it!" Michaels persuaded the network to entrust it's 12:30 slot which Letterman had turned into a gold mine to an untested wiseass from Harvard.
O'Brien was working on one of his last "Simpsons" episodes when he got the news. He turned "paler than usual," Groening recalled. The Conan moseyed back to where the other writers were working, "I'll come back with the Homer Simspon joke later. I have to go replace Letterman," he said.
NBC executives now get credit for their foresight during those dark days of 1993 and 1994. They snared the axe and now reap the multimillion-dollar spoils of that decision. In fact, the story is not so simple. We sent Contributing Editor Kevin Cook to unravel the tale of O'Brien's survival, which he tells here for the first time. Cook reports:
"His office is chock-full of significa. There's a three-foot plastic pickle the Letterman staff left behind in 1993 - perhaps to suggest what a predicament he was in. There's a copy of Jack Paar's 'I Kid You Not' and a coffee-table book called 'Saturday Night Live: The First 20 Years.' His bulletin board features letters from fans such as John Watters and Bob Dole and an 8" x 10" glossy of Andy Richter with the inscription: "To Conan - Your bitter jealousy warms my black heart. Love and Kisses Andy."
"Of course it's all for show. From the photos of kitch icons Adam West and Robert Stack to the framed Stan Laurel autograph, from the deathbed painting of Abraham Lincoln, to the ironic star taped to Conan's door - they're all clever signals that tell a visitor how to view the star. Lincoln was his collegiate preoccupation: stardom is his occupation. Somewhere between the two I hoped to find the real O'Brien.
"As a Playboy reader he wanted to give me a better-than-average interview. I wanted something more - a definitive look at the guy who may end up being the Johnny Carson of his generation."
"Here's hoping we succeeded. If not I carried his germs 3000 miles and infected dozens of Californians for no good reason.
O'Brien: Yes, this is how to do a Playboy Interview -- completely tanked on cold medicine. I'll pick it up and read, "Yes, I'm gay."
Playboy: We could talk another time. O'Brien: (coughing) No, it's OK. I memorized Dennis Rodman's answers. Can I use them?
Playboy: You sound really sick. Do you ever take a day off? O'Brien: No. The age of talk show hosts taking days off is over. Johnny Carson could go to Africa when he was the only game in town -- "See you in two weeks!" But nobody does that now. I will give you a million dollars on the first day Jay takes off for illness.
Playboy: Do you ever slow down and enjoy your success? O'Brien: If anything, the pace is picking up. Restaurateurs insist on giving me a table even if I'm only passing by, so I'm eating nine meals a night. Women stop me on the street and hand me their phone numbers.
Playboy: So you have groupies? O'Brien: Oh yes. And other fans. Drifters. Prisoners. Insomniacs. Cab Drivers, who must watch a lot of late night TV, seem to love me lately. They keep saying, "You will not pay, you will not pay, you make me happy!"
Playboy: How happy did your new contract make you? O'Brien: Terrified. The network said, "We're all set for five years." I said, "Shut up, shut up! I can't think that far ahead." Tonight, for instance, I do my jokes, then interview Elton John and Tim Meadows. We finished taping about 6:30. By 6:45 my memory was erased and my only thought was, Tomorrow: John Tesh. And I started to obsess about John Tesh. Sad, don't you think?
Playboy: Not too sad. You got off to a rocky start but now you're so hot that People magazine recently said, "that was then, this is wow." O'Brien: I try not to pay much attention. Since I ignored the critics who said I should shoot myself in the head with a German Luger, it would be cheating to tear out nice reviews now and rub them all over my body, giggling. Though I have thought about it.
Playboy: Tell us about your trademark gag. You interview a photo of Bill Clinton or some other celeb, and a pair of superimposed lips provide outrageous answers. O'Brien: We call it the Clutch Cargo bit, after that terrible old cartoon series. They saved money on animation by superimposing real lips on the cartoons. I wanted to do topical jokes in a cartoony way -- not just Conan doing quips at a desk. TV is visual; I want things to look funny. But we're not Saturday Night Live; we couldn't spend $100,000 on it. Hence, the cheap, cheesy lips, You'd be surprised how many people we fool.
Playboy: Viewers believe that's really the president yelling, "Yee-haw! Who's got a joint?" O'Brien: It's strange. You may know intellectually that Clinton doesn't talk like Foghorn Leghorn. Ninety-eight percent of your brain knows the president wouldn't say, "Whoa Conan get a load of that girl!" But there are a few brain cells that aren't sure. When Bob Dole was running for president we had him doing a past-life regression: "My cave, get away." And then back further, "Must form flippers to crawl on to rocky soil," he says. There may be people out there who believe that Bob Dole was the first amphibian.
Playboy: Do you ever go too far? O'Brien: The fun is in going too far. It's a nice device because you get Bill Clinton to do the nastiest Bill Clinton jokes. We'll have Clinton making fart noises while I say "Sir! Please!"
Playboy: Are you enjoying your job now, with your new success? O'Brien: Well, there are surprises. I hate surprises. Like most comics, I'm a control freak. But I am learning that the show works best when things are out of control. Tonight I ask Elton John if he likes being neighbors with Joan Collins. He says he isn't neighbors with Joan Collins. He lives next door to Tina Turner. So I panic -- huge mistake! But Elton saves the day. "Joan Collins, Tina Turner, it doesn't matter. Either way I could borrow a wig," he says. Huge laugh, all because I fucked up. Later he surprised me by blurting out that he's hung like a horse. The camera cuts to me shaking my head: That crazy Elton. What can I do? Of course, I'm delighted that he went too far.
Playboy: That "What can I do?" look resembles a classic take of Jack Benny's. O'Brien: There's an old saying in literature: "Good poets borrow; great poets steal." I think T.S. Eliot stole it from Ezra Pound. Comics steal, too. Constantly. When I watched Johnny Carson, I noticed that he got a few takes from Benny and Bob Hope. When a comedy writer told me how much Woody Allen had borrowed from Hope, I thought, What? They're nothing alike. Then I went back and watched Son of Paleface, and there's Hope, the nervous city guy backing up on his heels, wringing his hands and saying, "Sorry, I'll just be moving along." Now look at early Woody Allen. You see big authority figures and Woody nervously saying, "Look, I'll just be on my way." Of course Woody made it his own, but he must have watched and loved Bob Hope.
Playboy: Who are your role models? O'Brien: Carson. Woody Allen. SCTV. Peter Sellers. When Peter Sellers died I felt such a loss, thinking, There won't be anymore of that. There's some Steve Martin in my false bravado with female guests: "Why, hel-lo there!" And I won't deny having some Letterman in my bones.
Playboy: You were surprise as Letterman's successor. At first you seemed like the wrong choice. O'Brien: I didn't get ratings. That doesn't mean I didn't get laughs. Yes, I had a giant pompadour and I looked like a rockabilly freak. I was too excited, pushed too hard, and people said, "That guy isn't a polished performer." Fine! But it isn't my goal to be Joe Handsomehead cool, smooth talk show host. Late Night with Conan O'Brien is supposed to be a work in progress, and now that we've had some success there's a danger of our getting too polished and morphing into something smoothly professional. Which would suck.
Do you know why I wanted this show? Because Late Night with David Letterman played with the rules and it looked like fun. Here was a place where people did risky comedy every night for millions of people. We had to keep this thing alive. There should be a place on a big network where people are still messing around.
Playboy: How bad were your early days on the show? O'Brien: Bad. Dave left here under a cloud: his fans and the media were angry with NBC. Then NBC picks a guy with crazy hair and a weird name. And the world says, "Harvard? Those guys are assholes." I sincerely hope that the winter of December 1993, our first winter, was the worst time I will ever have. I'd go out to do the warm up and the back two rows of seats would be empty. That's hard to look at. I would tell a joke and then hear someone whisper, "Who's he? Where's Dave?"
Playboy: You had trouble getting guests. O'Brien: Bob Denver canceled on us. We shot a test show with Al Lewis of The Munsters. We did the clutch cargo thing with a photo of Herman Munster. Unfortunately, Fred Gwynne, who played Herman, had recently died, and Al Lewis kept pointing at the screen, saying, "You're dead! I was at your funeral!"
Playboy: For months you got worried notes from network executives. What did they say? O'Brien: They were worried. The fact that Lorne Michaels was involved bought me some time. But Lorne had turned to me at the start and said, "OK, Conan. What do you want to do?" Now television critics were after me and the network was starting to realize what a risk I was. Suggestions came fast and furious. I kept the note that said, "Why don't you just die?"
Playboy: Did they suggest ways to be funnier? O'Brien: They were more specific and tactical. The network gets very specific data. Say there was a drop in ratings between 12:44 and 12:48 when I was talking to Jon Bon Jovi. I'll be told, "Don't ever talk to him again" Or they'll want me to tease viewers into staying with us: "You should tease that -- say, 'We'll have nudity coming up next!'"
Playboy: You did come close to being cancelled. O'Brien: We were cancelled.
Playboy: Really? You have never admitted that. O'Brien: This is the first time I've talked about it. When I had been on for about a year, there was a meeting at the network. They decided to cancel my show. They said, "It's cancelled." Next day they realized they had nothing to put in the 12:30 slot, so we got a reprieve.
Playboy: Were you worried sick? O'Brien: I went into denial. I tried hard not to think, Yes, I'm bad on the air and my show has none of the things a TV show needs to survive. We had no ratings. No critics in our corner. Advertisers didn't like us. Affiliates wanted to drop us. Sometimes I'd meet a programming director from a local station where we had no rating at all. The guy would show me a printout with no number for Late Night's rating, just a hash mark or pound sign. I didn't dare think about that when I went out to do the show.
Playboy: Are you defending denial? O'Brien: How else does anyone get through a terrible experience? The odds were against me. Rationally, I didn't have much chance. Denial was my only friend. When I look back on the first year, it's like a scene from an old war movie: Ordinary guy gets thrown into combat, somehow beats impossible odds, staggers to safety. His buddy say, "You could have been killed!" The guy stops and thinks. "Could have been killed?" he says. His eyes cross and he faints.
Playboy: How did you dodge the bullet? O'Brien: There were people at NBC who stood up for me. I will always be indebted to Don Ohlmeyer, who stuck to his guns. Don said, "We chose this guy. We should stick with him unless we get a better plan." He was brutally honest. He came to me and said, "Give me about a 15 percent bump in the ratings and you'll stay on the air. If not, we're going to move on."
Playboy: Ohlmeyer started his career in the sports division. O'Brien: Exactly, his take was, "You're on our team." Of course, it wasn't exactly rational of Don to hope I'd be 15 percent funnier. It was like telling a farmer, "It better rain this week or we'll take your farm away."
Playboy: What did you say to Ohlmeyer? O'Brien: There wasn't time. I had to go out and do a monologue. But I will always be indebted to Don because he told me the truth. Wait a minute -- you have tricked me into talking lovingly about an NBC executive. Let me say that there were others who were beneath contempt -- executives who wouldn't know a good show if it swam up their asses and lit a campfire.
Playboy: Finally the ratings went your way. Hard work rewarded? O'Brien: Well, I also paid off the Nielsen people. That was $140,000 well spent.
Playboy: Ohlmeyer plus bribery saved you? O'Brien: There was something else. Just when everyone was kicking the crap out of the show, Letterman defended me.
Playboy: Letterman had signed off on NBC saying, "I don't really know Conan O'Brien, but I heard he killed someone." O'Brien: Then I pick up the paper and he's saying he thinks I am going to make it. "They do some interesting, innovative stuff over there," he says. "I think Conan will prevail." And then he came on as a guest. Remember, this was when we were at our nadir. There was no Machiavellian reason for David Letterman, who at the time was the biggest thing in show business, to be on my show.
Playboy: Why did he do it? O'Brien: I'm still not sure. Maybe out of a sense of honor. Fair play. And it woke me up. It made me think. Hey, we have a real fucking television show here.
Of six or seven pivotal points in my short history here, that was the first and maybe the biggest. I wouldn't be sitting here -- I probably wouldn't even exist today -- if he hadn't done our show.
Playboy: The Late Night wars were hardly noted for friendly gestures. O'Brien: How little you understand. Jay, Dave and I pal around all the time. We often ride a bicycle built for three up to the country. "Nice job with Fran Drescher!" "Thanks, pal. You weren't so bad with John Tesh." We sleep in triple-decker bunk beds and snore in unison like the Three Stooges.
Playboy: You talk more about Letterman than your NBC teammate Leno. O'Brien: I hate the "Leno or Letterman, who's better?" question. I can tell you that Jay has been great to me. He calls me occasionally.
Playboy: To say what? O'Brien: (Doing Leno's voice) "Hey, liked that bit you did last night." Or he'll say he saw we got a good rating. I call him at work, too. It can be a strange conversation because we're so different. Jay, for instance, really loves cars. He's got antique cars with kerosene lanterns, cars that run on peat moss. He'll be telling me about some classic car he has, made entirely of brass and leather, and I'll say, "Yeah, man, I got the Taurus with the vinyl." One thing we have in common is bad guests. There are certain actors, celebrities with nothing to say, who move through the talk show world wreaking havoc. They lay waste to Dave's town and Jay's town, then head my way.
Playboy: You must be getting some good guests. Your ratings have shown a marked improvement. O'Brien: Remember, when you're on at 12:30 the Nielsens are based on 80 people. My ratings drop if one person has a head cold and goes to bed early.
Playboy: Actually, you're seen by about 3 million people a night. Your ratings would be even higher if college dorms weren't excluded from the Nielsens. How many points does that cost you? O'Brien: I told you I'm an idiot. Now I have to do math too?
Playboy: Do you still get suggestions from NBC executives? O'Brien: Not as many. The number of notes you get is inversely proportional to your ratings.
Playboy: What keeps you motivated? O'Brien: Superstition. We have a stagehand, Bobby Bowman, who holds up the curtain when I run out for the monologue. He is the last person I see before the show starts, and I have to make him laugh before I go out. It started with mild jabs: "Bobby, you're drunk again." Bobby laughs, "Heehee."" Then it was, "Still having trouble with the wife, Bobby?" But after hundreds of shows, you find yourself running out of lines. It's gotten to where I do crass things at the last second. I'll put his hand on my ass and yell, "You fucking pervert!" Or drop to my knees and say, "Come on, Bobby, I'll give you a blow job!"
"Ha-ha. Conan, you're crazy," he says. But even that stuff wears off. Soon, I'll be making the writers work late to give me new jokes for Bobby.
Playboy: Did you plan to be a talk show host or did you fall into the job? O'Brien: I was an Irish Catholic kid from St. Ignatius parish in Brookline, outside of Boston. And that meant: Don't call attention to yourself. Don't ask for too much when the pie comes around. Don't get a girl pregnant and fuck up your life.
Playboy: Were you an alter boy? O'Brien: I wanted to be an alter boy, but the priest at St. Ignatius said, "No, no. You're good on your feet, kid," and made me a lector. A scripture reader at Mass. He was the one who spotted my talent.
Playboy: What did you think of sex in those days? O'Brien: I was sexually repressed. At 16 I still thought human reproduction was by mitosis.
Playboy: How did you get over your sexual repression? O'Brien: Who says I got over it? My leg has been jiggling this whole time.
Playboy: What were you like in high school? O'Brien: Like a crane galumphing down the hall. A crane with weird hair, bad skin and Clearasil. Big enough for basketball but lousy at it. My older brothers were better. I would compensate by running around the court doing comedy, saying, "Look out, this player has a drug addiction. He's incredibly egotistical."
I was an asshole at home, too. My little brother Justin loved playing cops and robbers, but I kept tying him up with bureaucratic bullshit. When he'd catch me, I'd say, "I get to call my lawyer." Then it was, "OK, Justin, we're at trial and you've been charged with illegal arrest. Fill out these forms in triplicate." Justin was eight; he hated all the lawsuits and countersuits. He just cried.
Playboy: Were you a class clown? O'Brien: Never. I was never someone who walked into a room full of strangers and started telling jokes. You had to get to know me before I could make you laugh. The same thing happened with Late Night. I needed to get the right rhythm with Andy and Max and the audience.
Playboy: So how did you finally learn about sex? O'Brien: My parents gave me a book, but it was useless. At the crucial moment, all it showed was a man and a woman with the bed covers pulled up to their chins. I tried to find out more from friends, but it didn't help. One childhood friend told me it was like parking a car in a garage. I kept worrying about poisonous fumes. What if the fumes build up? Should you shut off the engine?
Playboy: For all your talk about being repressed, you can be rowdy on the air. O'Brien: The show is my escape valve. When I tear off my shirt and gyrate my pelvis like Robert Plant, feigning orgasm into the microphone, that shows how repressed I am -- a guy who wants to push his sex at the lens but can only do it as a joke.
Playboy: Aren't you tempted to live it up? O'Brien: I always imagined that if I were a TV star I would live the way I pictured Johnny Carson living. Carousing, stepping out of a limo wearing a velvet ascot with a model on my arm. Now that I have the TV show, I drive up to Connecticut on the weekends and tool around in my car. I could probably join a free-sex cult, smoke crack between orgies and drive sports cars into swimming pools, and my Catholic guilt would still be there, throbbing like a toothache. Be careful. If something good happens, something bad is on the way.
Playboy: Yet you don't mind licking the supermodels. O'Brien: At one point a few of them lived in my building, women who are so beautiful they almost look weird, like aliens. To me, a woman who has a certain approachable amount of beauty becomes almost funny. It's the same with male supermodels. They look like big puppets. So while I admire their beauty I probably won't be "romantically linked" with a model. I'd catch my reflection in a ballroom mirror and break up laughing.
Playboy: The horny Roy Orbison growl you use on gorgeous guests sounds real enough -- O'Brien: Oh, I've been doing that shit since high school. It just never worked before.
Playboy: Your father is a doctor, your mother an attorney. What do they think of their son the comedian? O'Brien: My dad was the one who told me denial was a virtue. "Denial is how people get through horrible things," he said. He also cut out a newspaper article in which I said I was making money off something for which I should probably be treated. So true, he thought. But when I got an Emmy for helping write Saturday Night Live, my parents put it on the mantel next to the crucifix. Here's Jesus looking over, saying, "Wow, I saved mankind from sin, but I wish I had an Emmy."
Playboy: Ever been in therapy? O'Brien: Yes. I don't trust it. I have told therapists that I don't particularly want to feel good. "Repression and fear, that's my fuel." But the therapists said that I had nothing to worry about. "Don't worry Conan you will always be plenty fucked up."
Playboy: When a female guest comes out, how do you know whether to shake her hand or kiss her? Is that rehearsed O'Brien: No, and it's awkward. If you go to shake her hand and her head starts coming right at you, you have to change strategy fast. I have thought about using the show to make women kiss me, but that would probably creep out the people at home. I decided not to kiss Elton John.
Playboy: Do you get all fired up if Cindy Crawford or Rebecca Romijn does the show? O'Brien: I like making women laugh. Always have, ever since I discovered you can get girls' attention by acting like an ass. That's one of the joys of the show -- I'm working my eyebrows and going grrr and she's laughing, the audience is laughing. It's all a big put-on and I'm thinking. This is great. Here is a beautiful woman who has no choice but to put up with this shit.
But it's not always put on. Sometimes they flirt back. Sometimes there's a bit of chemistry. That happened with Jennifer Connelly of The Rocketeer.
Playboy: One guest, Jill Hennessy, took off her pants for you. Then you removed yours. Even Penn and Teller took off their pants. O'Brien: Something comes over me. It happened with Rebecca Romijn -- I was practically climbing her. Those are the times when Andy and the audience seem to disappear and it's just me and this lovely woman sitting there flirting. I keep expecting a waiter to say, "More wine, Monsieur?"
Playboy: Would you lick the wine bottle? O'Brien: It's true, there's a lot of licking on the show. I have licked guests. I have licked Andy. Comedy professionals will read this and say, "Great work, Conan. Impressive." But I have learned that if you lick a guest, people laugh. If I pick this shoe off the floor, examine it, Hmmm, and then lick it, people laugh. I learned this lesson on The Simpsons, where I was the writer who was forever trying to entertain the other writers. I still try desperately to make our writers laugh, which is probably a sign of sickness since they work for me now. Licking is one of those things that look funny.
Playboy: Johnny Carson never licked Ed McMahon. O'Brien: We are much more physical and more stupid than the old Tonight Show. Even in our offices before the show there's always some writer acting out a scene crashing his head through my door. A behind-the-scenes look at our show might frighten people.
Playboy: One night you showed a doctored photo of Craig T. Nelson having sex with Jerry Van Dyke. Did they complain about it? O'Brien: I haven't heard from them. Of course I'm blessed not to be a part of the celebrity pond. I have a television show in New York, an NBC outpost. I don't run with or even run into many Hollywood people.
Playboy: You also announced that Tori Spelling has a penis. O'Brien: I did not. Polly the Peacock said that.
Playboy: Another character you use to say the outrageous stuff. O'Brien: Polly is not popular with the network.
Playboy: You mock Fabio, too. O'Brien: If he sues me, it'll be the best thing that ever happened. A publicity bonanza: Courtroom sketches of Fabio with his man-boobs quivering, shaking his fist, and me shouting at him across the courtroom. I'm not afraid of Fabio. He knows where to find me. I'm saying it right here for the record: Fabio, let's get it on.
Playboy: Ever have a run-in with an angry celeb? O'Brien: I did a Kelsey Grammar joke a few years ago, something about his interesting lifestyle, then heard through the network that he was upset. He had appeared on my show and expected some support. At this point my intellect says, "Kelsey Grammar is a public figure. I was in the right." Then I saw him in an airport. Kelsey didn't see me at first: I could have kept walking. But there he was, eating a cruller in the airport lounge. I thought I should go over. I said hello and then said, "Kelsey, I'm sorry if I upset you." And he was glad. He looked relieved. He said, "Oh, that's OK." We both felt better.
....See my other post with the last third of the interview

A couple days ago, I ended up sleeping over with one of my friends and his sister also had a sleepover w her friends so in total it was around 7 people. At some point in the night, All 7 of us aside from his sister are in his room because his sister got caught with alcohol (Long story- and for the record I don’t drink or smoke she’s just an alcoholic) and this girl and I pretty much introduce ourselves to each other. Later in the night, two people have gone to sleep and his sister is bawling her eyes out in his bedroom so that leaves me, my friend, the girl, andanother person and we end up playing truth or dare. In short, she asks me “what my biggest impulse” is in the moment and my dumbass says “to kiss her”. It happens and we kiss for a few good seconds. Anyways, she vapes and smokes and lives like 30 minutes away from me- should I pursue her or focus on myself and stay away from all that drug bs? Edit: Wheb everyone else went to sleep we were talking and my corny ass decided to trauma dump to her and apparently she “likes” me

I'm bored and wanting to spice up my inbox! So lets play a game, SFW or NSFW is fine by me 😁 Would you rather? Truth or dare? Or any other games you can think of!

I tried reposting it on another post but It wasn’t letting comment after i edited.
This is the book summary. Sorry if there are mistakes; I tried my best.
The two girls meet when Kim’s family moves next door to Wan’s family. Wan has been dreaming about a girl since she was young and realizes Kim is the girl in her dreams. Wan finds out that her dad is strangely close to Kim's dad. It happens several times, and Wan figures out they are lovers. The two Dads run away together, leaving their daughters and wives behind. Some time passes, and when they go back to school, rumors emerge about the two father run away together at their school. Wan tries to get close to Kim, but she ignores her and tries to avoid her at all costs. Wan wants to be close to someone who can understand the pain of their father leaving, and Kim is that person.
They eventually get close, but Kim and Wan makes it clear they are not friends. Wan and Kim have dreams of each other, and they do romantic things in their dreams. Some of this affects their real life because if they fight in real life, they make up in their dream world. The four friends get closer as time goes by. They have a lot of tension in their friendship. They have feelings for each other but neither of them wants to confess. Also, Kim doesn't like same-sex relationships because of her trauma of her father abandoning them for Wan's dad. This is why Wan is even more afraid to confess her feelings towards Kim. Wan, in school, one day, says that whoever is the first person to give her a gift, she will date them. After school, Wan checks the bag for the gift to see who gave it to her but cannot find it. Mon, one of the friends in their group, makes some time to talk to Wan alone. She tells Wan that another student at school saw Kim throw away the gift given to Wan on Valentine's Day! Later that day, she gifts a drawing of Wan sleeping to her ☺️ Mon (the friend questions Dawan if they like each other and asks her if Kim gave her a gift, and Dawan denies it ).
Dwan is planning to tell Kimhan her feelings. In chapter 19 of the book, as she heads home for dinner, she finds that her mom is not home. So she checks to see if she's at the neighbor's house, Aunt Aey’s (Kimhans mother). She finds an unexpected scene. She sees her mother and Aunt Aey kissing each other. She keeps it a secret. This prevents Dawan and Kim Han’s romantic relationship from progressing. Wan finds it impossible to confess now because both of their father had an affair and ran away together. Now, their moms are also in love, and Kim and Wan love each other. She finds it too much to bear and doesn't want Kim to find out and get hurt again. The four friends make a time capsule where, in 10 years, they will open the letters they wrote to each other. Kim and Wan write letters, confessing their feelings to each other, and leave them in the time capsule.
Time passes by, and Dawan becomes a famous actress. Kim works for her, and they protect each other and live together in a condo. Dawan insists they live together to prevent Kimhan from discovering the truth about their moms. Dawan knows her mom and Aunt Aey suffered after their husbands left them and doesn't want to separate them because she knows they are in love. Wan doesn't want to take her mom's happiness away. Eventually, Kimhan meets a man named Mawhin. Kim introduces Mawhin to Wan as her boyfriend. She is jealous but cannot complain because she has had boyfriends in the past as well. The difference is that when Wan went on the dates with her ex boyfriends, she takes Kimhan along with her on her dates—leaving the boyfriends as the third wheels🤣. Wan's ex-bfs always gave her an ultimatum to choose between them (Wan’s bf’s) and Kim. Dawan always chose Kim, and her boyfriends broke up with her. Wan has never slept with her ex-boyfriends, and when they tried to get her drunk to have sex with her, Kim always rescued her. Mawim Wants to marry Kim Han. Mawhin has a conversation with Dawan, asking her if he should go ahead and ask Kimhan to marry him. Mawhin wants to know if Dawan has feelings For Kim, telling her that he knows how Kim feels for her and wants to see if Dawan also feels the same for Kim. Making sure he can safely propose to Kim with out Dawan getting in the way. Mawhin asks this in an indirect way. Dawan understands, but she is still in denial or doesn't dare to confess the truth about her feelings for Kim. It's finally Time to open the time capsule. Wan goes before the friend Groups goes together to retrieve the time capsule. She secretly steals the letter she wrote, confessing her feelings for Kimhan. When all the friends go retrieve it, Kim hands the letter to Wan. Days pass, and Wan still does not dare to open the letter Kim wrote to her 10 years ago. Kim calls Dhawan and asks if she read the letter, and Wan says yes and asks what she thinks. (But Wan still has not read the letter) Kim wants to know what she thinks. Dahwan responds she has no opinion on it. So before Kimhan ends the call, she goes silent and tells Wan, “It's time for me to let go”. On Kim's wedding day, Wan finally reads the letter. It reads:
A Dahwan, If you're reading this, it means ten years have passed. I've spent a long time contemplating whether I should write to you about this. But by the time you read it, ten years will have gone by, and we will probably laugh because we will have grown and matured.
Among all my friends, you are the one I love the most. You are the best person who will always hold a special place in my heart, and no one can replace you. If I were to tell you that we were so close that I dreamt about you, would you think it's strange? I saw you even before we became friends.
In my dreams...
For as long as I can remember, I've had a friend in my dreams. It's a completely blue and white world. There's a big tree and a river, and the surroundings change over time, though I don't know why. I never knew if you truly existed. Every time I woke up, I would forget who that friend was.
Until we met in reality. That girl from my dreams turned out to be you.
We did many things... Ah, I don't know how to put it into words. Let's just say they were very good dreams. Every time I dreamt, I didn't want to wake up. But if I didn't wake up, I would regret not being able to go to school and come home to you, just like we do.
You were always with me. And now, it turns out that you're always in my thoughts and in my heart. You're a friend, a big sister, a little sister, and sometimes a pain in the ass. But I love everything about you.
I think I'm in love with you... Even though I don't like deviating from heterosexuality because of our parents, you are my exception. I love you for who you are. I don't care if you're a man or a woman. But I don't know if, after ten years, when this letter is opened, I will still feel the same.
If either of us already has a lover, read this letter and laugh awkwardly with each other.
But for now, as I write this letter, this is how I truly feel. And if what I feel in ten years is still the same, and you feel the same way, let me know.
Dhawan, I dream of you.
End of letter.
After Dhawan reads the letter, she rushes to Kim's wedding ceremony and enters when Kim is getting ready for the ceremony. Dhawan tells her, “Kim Han, I also dream of you”! They confess to each other their love. Just as the wedding is about to start, paparazzi and new stations are waiting for the couple to get married. Wan takes and escapes with Kim together. They run away to a hotel, And Kim and Wan spend the wedding night together. News goes out to the public that a famous actress took the bride and escaped with her, embarrassing the rich groom.
There is more to the story, but they have a happy ending

Chapter 9
Location: On the Road to the Citadel. Outside Tulla Hold
POV: Orfantal
Tulla Hold is built in a cliffside and is massive. Haral tells Orfantal that Lady Hish is not here, so they don't have to go inside, which is good, because Orfantal's horse would not make the climb. Instead they camp. Orfantal does not share the captain's view of his horse. Orfantal thinks his horse is strong and will take him all the way to Kharkanas. Gripp notices the gate to the hold opening. Orfantal creates another fantasy where he gets kidnapped by bandits, but through cleverness becomes the bandit king until he is betrayed. Breaking him out of his reverie, Gripp tells him there is a highborn in a carriage coming out of the hold. About the same age as Orfantal. When they arrive they bring food and supplies as is the Tulla tradition. The young noble is Sukul Ankhadu, sister of Sharenas. Orfantal asks if she is a hostage like him. Haral tells him lesser families only exchange hostages with their equals. Tulla is of the Greater Families in court. Orfantal thanks Sukul for the food and supplies and she responds that he definitely didn't learn his manners from his grandmother who showed no honor to Urusander's Legion. Orfantal apologizes for his grandmother and Sukul who is touched by his words, says, "Should the need arise in your life for an ally, you may call upon Sukul Ankhadu." She beckons him to join her at a campfire. Orfantal imagines they will be great friends, but vaguely in the future awaits their betrayer.
Orfantal is dismayed that Gripp and the others left the two nobles to their own fire. While in their company he had begun to think there was no difference between them in regards to class. He was one of them. But now the division was obvious and he was reminded of the rules of behavior that made no sense and kept people apart. Sukul asks Orfantal to tell her about himself, saying that she knows about his grandmother and thought their line dried out. She says he must have come from far away. Orfantal knows the story he is supposed to tell when people ask him, but as Sukul is to be his companion he tells her the truth. He says Sandalath is his mother and his father died in the wars saving many famous highborn. Sukul says that Orfantal surely has a different story he's supposed to tell. Orfantal says yes, but that it doesn't make sense. Sukul asks if they are truly friends now. Orfantal nods. Sukul then gives him advice on what to do when he gets to the Citadel. She says he may be lonely as all the adults have very busy lives. He is surprised by this, thinking they would all welcome him warmly as they did his mother. Sukul tells him to seek out Lady Hish Tulla. Sukul will give him a message to give to the lady. Orfantal agrees and asks why she is a guest in Tulla Hold.
She says her sister has taken a wayward path and her mother did not want her to follow. Her mother was friends with Lady Hish from the battlefield and asked her for a favor. Lady Hish had also been on a wayward path, but has since pulled back. Sukul then tells Orfantal, "blood is not the only loyalty in the world. Two spirits, matched of vision, can reach across any divide. Remember that, Orfantal, for on this night such a friendship has begun, between us." She says that Hish Tulla is trying to forge bonds between nobles and officers in Urusander's Legion in order to prevent a civil war.. But that many officers like her sister have no interest in peace. Orfantal says he wishes that Sukul was his sister, Sukul says friends are better and more reliable. She also tells him to make the story he is supposed to tell, the truth in his mind. She makes him promise that he will tell no one else what he has told her. Sukul tells him, "You can create whatever truth you choose. We live long, Orfantal – much longer than the Jheleck, or the Dog- Runners. Live long enough and you will find yourself in the company of other liars, other inventors, and all that they make of their youth shines so bright as to blind the eye. Listen to their tales, and know them for the liars they are – no different from you. No different from any of us." A small voice in his head says that he does not like liars. Lying meant betraying loyalty.
Location: Citadel
POV: Rise Herat
Rise Herat and Legyl Behust, a small girl, are out on a merlon. Rise is telling her not to fall off. She is excited to be this close to the edge. He tells her to look out of the city, but to ignore the industrial section. She wants to see the forest he keeps talking about, but it has receded to a dark line on the horizon. He goes on to compare Kharkanas with a body with it's areas of industry. She doesn't understand him and says, "Cedorpul's a better teacher than you. He makes sense. You don’t." She leaves to play in her room. She is the lone hostage in the Citadel. Cedorpul had ambushed him and made him give her a lesson during his morning ritual. Before he could say no, Cedorpul was gone. Rise Herat is the court historian and attempted to give Legyl a history lesson, but her questions and comments confused him, so he gave up. He knows he's a terrible historian. He prefers sweeping color over obsessive detail and feeling over intense analysis.
He sees the shadow of Mother Dark's indrawn breath. The priestesses believe that she feeds on the light. He laments what must be if Mother Dark becomes absolute. The loss of light. He thinks of Kadaspala. The priestesses say that all who would dwell in the coming darkness would be able to see in it. He knew that would come from sorcery and so would not be free. Cedorpul joins him at the tower. Round face and round body huffing. Someone else comes with him. Cedorpul asks where Legyl is and Rise tells him in her room. He says that Rise has abdicated his responsibilities. Rise responds, just like you did this morning. Endest Silann pushes past Cedorpul to look out over the city. Rise asks what he sees. Endest says it is more what he feels and he feels unburdened. The weight on his shoulders will return when he goes below.
Cedorpul tells Rise that Warlock Resh brings a guest to see Mother Dark. He says that she is from the Vitr. Rise faces Cedorpul surprised by his statement and the man's lack of eyebrows or other facial hair. Cedorpul says they should reach the edge of the forest soon. They wanted to see if they could witness it from the tower. Endest jokes about the proper decorum. Cedorpul doesn't like his irreverence. Endest reminds Cedorpul in which state he found him this morning. Under 3 priestess candidates. He tells Rise that Cedorpul tells them that their prowess in bed must be tested prior to becoming priestesses. He also swears them to secrecy. Cedorpul is mad at Endest for outing him and also tells Rise that Endest doesn't mind taking his cast-offs every night.
POV: Sister Emral Lanear
Sister Emral Lanear is one of two High Priestesses in the court of Mother Dark. She thinks about the illusions they all must keep up. The lesser priestesses around her are gossiping about the visitor. Sister Syntara, the other High Priestess, calls to Sister Emral and tells her it is time. She does not like the young powerful woman. She thinks there is no need for two High Priestesses. The temple they occupied was built as a tribute to the long forgotten god of the Dorssan Ryl. The Yan and Yedan cults were of that time, but she dismissed those as they invented rules of suffering confusing that with faith. Syntara is annoyed that Emral continues to look in her mirror. She has topics to discuss with the other High Priestess. She tells Emral that they must be ready to take advantage of any opportunity. Emral has resisted her at every turn. Syntara says it's not her fault that Emral is old and she's sure Mother Dark only elevated her because she pities her.
Hunn Raal is in the city and Emral had denied his petition for an audience with Mother Dark. Syntara says that was a mistake and tells her about T'riss. Emral says she hasn't denied his petition, only delayed. She wonders aloud at the reasoning for Hunn Raal going to Syntara filling her ear. She surmises that he wishes to use this Azathanai from the Vitr to get a command from Mother Dark to mobilize Urusander's legion and reinstate it's veterans. Emral asks how the highborns will react to a full strength Legion in light of the proposed marriage between Urusander and Mother Dark. Syntara responds that Draconus's response to said marriage is the only thing people are worried about. Emral asks if he will indeed be sacrificed. Even if he is, that would be a short term mollification if Urusander's legion is full strength and holding their swords over the heads of the highborn. She asks Syntara if she would dance for them. This comment hits Syntara as there are rumors of her being a sex worker dancing in alleys in her youth. Emral says that hating Draconus is only a sign of jealousy and that he is granted no power from being Mother Dark's lover.
Location: Outside Kharkanas
POV: Caplo Dreem
The party escorting T'riss to Kharkanas is coming upon the edge of the forest. Previously they had stayed at the Yan monastery. Caplo thinks about how unfortunately he had made Faror Hend his enemy and how he would now have to assault her reputation. He thinks about when he brought T'riss to meet with Mother Sheccanto. Mother Sheccanto asks T'riss is she will be a guest here and T'riss responds how dry it is and it is not befitting a mother. Sheccanto says if she will not be a guest she can go on her way without delay. T'riss says that Mother Sheccanto's faith is empty, but that she likely knows that. She goes on to tell her that there was once a river spirit/god near here. Once they had dug the well and put in a fountain, they had made the god a prisoner. Prisoners die.
Sheccanto observes that T'riss lacks the tact of most Azathanai. T'riss tells her that tact is really just amused condescension. She tells Sheccanto that she is dying and her cult is dying. Sheccanto says of course she's dying and tells Caplo to get her out, but then T'riss accepts and says she will be a guest. She tells them that she thinks Mother Dark has made a grave error in judgment. Then she says she will now go bathe in the fountain. Sheccanto tells Caplo to stay and berates him for letting the bandits kill their children. The cult needs children to stay alive. Caplo was shocked by Mother Sheccanto's admission that of course she was dying. She had been alive for 2,000 years. Amid this reverie, she says, I'm not dead yet staring directly at Caplo. Caplo says he thinks the Vitr damaged T'riss. Mother Sheccanto responds, "Mad she may be, but her power remains, and it is unmitigated by the restraint of reason." She tells him he will be her escort to Mother Dark and to keep his skills at hand. He is an assassin and wonders if it's possible to kill an Azathanai. He also questions whether or not Mother Dark can protect herself. He thinks she surely can. Sheccanto says Mother Dark only trusts one man and he is an outsider who has gone to the Azathanai lands. Her old suspicions are awakened by this.
She goes on to say that while they cannot pierce the veil of mother dark, her spies tell her that Anomander may be able to, so that proves that others might as well. Caplo wonders aloud if he should just kill her here. But she is known to be here, so that would invite the wrath of the wardens. Caplo is doubtful of his ability to kill T'riss in the chamber of night as he has seen Anomander fight and knows he is fast enough to stop Caplo. Mother Sheccanto is fine with the odds and Caplo knowing his low chance of success understands that he may be a sacrifice. Mother Sheccanto tells him to only strike if T'riss intends harm to Mother Dark. They need Mother Dark's gratitude. Caplo's death is worth that gratitude in Sheccanto's eyes. She gives him other tasks to do while in Kharkanas. Caplo joins Resh at the fountain where T'riss swims naked. They philosophize for a long time, then T'riss gets out and asks Caplo, "Your Mother advised against my murder, then? It is well. You would not like my blood on your hands, lieutenant." Caplo denies, but then says they will defend our own. T'riss questions what constitutes 'their own' and that he relies on that ambiguity to justify his killing. She goes on to say, "I believe you are a killer, and that you are both given reasons for the necessity, and assemble in private more of your own, bolstering such justifications as needed." Warlock Resh gagging asks T'riss to restrain her power. T'riss responds that it isn't her. Caplo asks who's power if not hers. T'riss responds, "Your river god was dead. It is dead no longer." Warlock Resh says the god is enraged.
T'riss remained in her room for the next two days as the settlement is plunged into chaos. Mother Sheccanto has lost all control of her body and is confined to her bed. Resh had sent a rider to the Yedan monastery telling Father Skelenal. The thirteen eldest sisters among them had died. In the great well of the ancient god, the water boiled. As T'riss is readying to leave, Resh says he will wait for Father Skelenal to arrive. T'riss says no and that Resh is not needed here. Mother Sheccanto will recover and speak in private with Skelenal. T'riss orders Resh to accompany her. Resh accepts her command, but asks why. T'riss says he needs to witness what will happen. Caplo asks if she is a threat to Mother Dark. T'riss says if she is, there is nothing anyone can do about it, but she says no she is no threat. She says she brings change and how Mother Dark responds is up to her.
While on the way Resh tells Caplo that something is building and that the forest people are free and when they kill the last tree, the last free people of the realm will cease to be. After long discussion of this, T'riss breaks in and says their rituals are meaningless. Once subservience becomes rote, it ceases to be subservient. In any case that is not the relationship the river god wants. It wants comprehension on it's existence. T'riss goes on. You offer your life to the river god, but that's not what the river god wants and it has no idea what to do with your longing, helpless soul. If the god could make you understand something it would be, "the only thing worthy of worship is humility itself." Caplo starts to respond with derision, but Resh gestures him to be silent. Caplo thinks that though he was going to argue, he sees the truth in their predictable behaviors. Resh then exasperatedly asks, "what does our god want of us?" T'riss responds, "he wants you to be free." Caplo is rocked by this revelation. Warlock Resh is brought to tears. "In tears, water runs free."
Location: Citadel
POV: High Priestess Emral Lanear
Emral and Syntara are on their way to see Mother Dark and the way gets progressively darker as they get closer. Emral thinks that there is no beauty in the citadel and the old temple looks a skull with ants trying to escape. The Tiste are the ants. As they get closer Mother Darks presence weighs on them and they must slow down and their breath becomes more shallow. Most of the priestesses and those close to the goddess have developed some ability to see in the dark. Emral is shocked to feel a rain drop fall on her head. The water freezes as it rolls down her face. There was never any rain in the citadel. Alarmed she announces that something is happening. The rain starts to fall harder and the lesser priestesses are panicking. Emral tells them they are dismissed and that the High Priestesses need to speak with Mother Dark. Syntara is mad because Emral doesn't command the procession.
Anomander and his brothers arrive and tell the High Priestesses that the Azathanai is through the gate and that the river is flooding and water streams the streets. He asks for Emral's thoughts. Emral says the Shake. Syntara is looking around confused. Anomander tells Emral that it's unlikely that this is the doing of the Shake. They've never attempted to reclaim the old temple. Emral posits that perhaps they would be allies then. Anomander says they are unreliable, "One thing the worship of a dead god assures, and that is unmitigated freedom for the priesthood" They are off balance now. Emral says if the Shake are nimble they can turn this to their advantage. Anomander says Mother Sheccanto is very ill. Silchas responds that they must look to Warlock Resh then. Emral thinks this shows that Silchas too is very sharp. She tells the brothers that T'riss's escort is Resh and Caplo Dreem. Anomander says that they must think on why Caplo is here. They sniff out that Caplo is there to kill the Azathanai if necessary. Anomander says that he doesn't share Sheccanto's panic. Emral asks if the brothers can stop him. They aren't sure. Caplo is the fastest with a blade that either has seen. Syntara frustratingly says Anomander should then stand between Caplo and T'riss and that they are wasting a lot of time as the group approaches.
Syntara says they must warn Mother Dark. Anomander assures her that Mother Dark already knows and doesn't need anything from them. He goes on, "Sister Syntara, we hens have much to decide here, yet you persist in pecking the ground." Syntara asserts that she is a High Priestess. Anomander verbally eviscerates her, "Your elevation was intended to ease the burden of administration from Sister Emral. Little did Mother Dark realize your venal ambition, and if you think high tits and a damp nest are the surest paths to power, might I refer you to Gallan’s poem, “Trophies of Youth”? Anomander says he will address the Caplo situation. Emral is shocked by Anomander's revelation. She was not aware that Syntara's elevation was to help her. Emral feels a great fondness for all three of the brothers. They remind her of their father whom she loved.
Anomander says they will wait for the Shake party to come to them. Andarist points out that having so many here is a sign of weakness and says he will leave. Silchas says he will join him as his talents are made redundant by Anomander remaining. Silchas suggests that they go find Captain Kellaras who has recently returned to the citadel and enquire about Hust Henarald's answer to Anomander's request. Emral once again contemplates Anomander's competence and attributes it to the same qualities in his father. In the same thought she also hopes that none them have their mother's flaws.
Syntara asks if they will just stand there. Anomander responds that she's not needed and should go seek shelter in Mother Dark's presence. Syntara agrees, but says she won't sink to their level of rudeness. She says she seems to be the only one to understand the position of High Priestess. Anomander responds, "Would that be on your knees, Syntara?" Syntara, enraged, leaves. Emral cautions Anomander that while she is awful, she is not powerless. Anomander agrees that he was unwise, but thinks Syntara's rage will fall on Emral and for that he is sorry.
Location: Streets of Kharkanas
POV: Caplo Dreem
As they move through the streets of Kharkanas they encounter it's citizens in panic. Caplo, Resh, and T'riss stop their mounts in front of the rising water. T'riss says she will walk from here. Resh asks if all of the bridges and stone banks must be destroyed in order for the river to be free. T'riss responds that, "Mother Dark is awakened to its presence. She asserts her domain." The flood is subsiding and T'riss comments on Mother Dark's impressive power. T'riss continues on in the water. Caplo and Resh remain mounted and follow. Caplo looks and sees steam. Mother Dark's power is growing. T'riss wonders why if there is highborn and lowborn why there is no royalty among the Tiste. Caplo says their was, but the queen died on the battlefield trying to find her husband's body. The queen's body was never recovered. She was Mother Dark's half-sister. T'riss asks why she couldn't have just assumed the mantle of Queen. Caplo says it was possible, but that she was deemed unsuitable. Resh says that she was not political. She was idealistic and romantic. T'riss says she thinks the empty throne suits the tiste highborn. Resh says that the throne is now the throne of night and Mother Dark does indeed sit upon it. T'riss asks if she will be sitting on it when they have their audience. Caplo says he has no idea. It's in darkness after all. T'riss guesses that while the queen had no direct descendants that she did have other relations. She correctly guesses that these are Mother Sheccanto and Father Skelenal. She says that they could claim the throne. Resh stops Caplo and asks him why she knows this and why she's bringing it up. He doesn't know, but assures Resh that the age of Kings and Queens is over. For love the queen cast the realm into chaos. The lesson was not lost on the Tiste.
Location: Kharkanas Old Tower
POV: Rise Herat
Rise, Cedorpul and Endest Silann watch as T'riss and her escort walk down the street. Rise wonders if warlock Resh will lay claim to the Old Temple they are watching from as it was an ancient temple to the river god. They watch as Resh and Caplo dismount and continue on with T'riss leaving the other Shake behind. Rise wonders about the nature of Mother Dark's godhood. How it is difficult to worship negation and that if T'riss is in opposition it may help define how they worship their goddess. He also correctly guesses that T'riss is the one in danger at this meeting. Rise challenges Cedorpul's faith and Cedorpul takes Endest and leaves asking Rise to check on the child.
Location: CItadel
POV: High Priestess Emral Lanear
Emral and Anomander await T'riss and her escort. Syntara has gone in to commune with Mother Dark. Emral knows how frustrating that can be as she offers no clear answers. She says that Mother Dark is idealistic and romantic and that probably suits an object of faith and worship. As T'riss approaches a bloom of light does as well. Ice had sheathed the walls and it now cracked. T'riss displays great power. Emral wonders why the Azathanai are not worshipped as gods. Caplo and Resh follow close behind and look uncertain and exhausted. T'riss stops in front of Anomander and says, "Night will claim your skin. Before your eyes, darkness will be revealed. But I will make visible the defiance within you, as a gift." Anomander responds that he asks for no gifts and has no defiance. To Emral T'riss says, "Your sorrow, High Priestess, is lonely, and you are driven to share your truths. I advise against it. Give voice to your secrets and you will be rejected by those for whom you care the most." Anomander tells her if she seeks answers, she may be disappointed. T'riss says, "The Tiste view the Vitr as an enemy, It is no such thing. It exists for itself. It is a sea of possibilities, of potential. It holds life in the manner that blood holds life." Anomander asks if it created her, she says no. He says it is expanding towards Kurald Galain. T'riss responds, "The sea does not dream of you." T'riss says she will see Mother Dark now and moves past Emral. Caplo and Resh make to follow, but Anomander snaps out a hand and pins Caplo to the wall. Emral sees the gleam of a knife in Caplo's hand. Resh shakes his head and it abruptly vanishes. T'riss does not react to this and continues forward. Anomander tells Caplo that no blood is to spilled within the chamber. Caplo says the command is unnecessary. Anomander then addresses Resh and tells him to tell Sheccanto that if she ever sends her Assassin into audience with Mother Dark again, they will spike his head on the wall of the citadel. Resh agrees to relay the message.
From the doorway, T'riss's light vanishes and Syntara stumbles out skin changed to white. When Emral goes to assist her, Syntara declines and calls her a hag. She says she chose her gift and rushes out of the corridor. Resh groans and says, "She's gone." Anomander asks if she was banished. Resh asks if Mother Dark gives him nothing. He says she might, but he doesn't ask. Resh says time twisted in the chamber. It could have been days and that T'riss brought some of the Vitr with her. They didn't know. Anomander asks if it was weapon. Resh says, no it was a gift.
Anomander commands the Shake to stay and takes Emral into the chamber. Emral notices that the darkness is less oppressive to her and that she can now make out details of the chamber. Mother Dark is on the Throne of Night . She is now black-skinned. Anomander asks if Mother Dark is harmed. She responds that she is not. Anomander asks if she sent her away. Mother Dark instead addresses Emral saying she is now the only High Priestess and that Syntara chose to create a schism. It cannot be undone. Anomander asks about the ancient river god being resurrected. Mother Dark responds, "There is peace between us. You see too many enemies, First Son. We are not threatened from without; only from within." Anomander asks what T'riss has done here and how she has changed the darkness. Mother Dark again doesn't respond. She addresses Emral and says that the temple is now sanctified. Emral thinks sanctified by the Vitr? She wonders how Syntara was changed as she thought her faith unassailable. Mother Dark says T'riss was able to see deep into a mortal soul, but doesn't understand tact. She gifted Syntara with something that put her beyond Mother Dark. Mother Dark says that they both now have the ability to see in darkness and everyone who comes before her will receive the blessing. Emral looks to Anomander and sees his black skin, but is shocked at his silver hair. Mother Dark says she is troubled by this and that one day she will tell him of his mother. Anomander says he has no interest and that, "Love cannot survive the absence of memories, and for that woman we have none."
Anomander asks if she will meet with the Shake. Mother Dark says not yet. Anomander shouts, "then name your enemy!". Mother Dark says she has none. She asks him to win the peace for her. Anomander continues to ask about threats and to say that he is a soldier and cannot win peace without war. He asks how Syntara poses a threat. He says the Shake will not take her. Mother Dark says her gift will draw people to her and that they cannot stop it. The schism must be made so it can be healed. Anomander asks, what about Draconus. Mother Dark stills and tells him to leave. Anomander says without him he cannot accomplish his task. She tells him to leave again.
Location: Kharkanas
POV: Hunn Raal
Syntara has come into Hunn Raal's tent. He is shocked by her skin change and asks if Mother Dark had blessed her with new sorcery. Syntara responds that she has been cast out and that T'riss had said she could see in her soul and saw terrible things. She then touched her and did this. She demands sanctuary and says she needs the protection of the legion. He says it's now complicated. She says it wasn't yesterday when he groveled about everything being in place. He says she isn't a High Priestess anymore, so things are different. She asks if he is too drunk to fuck. He says probably. She asks if Urusander will take her.
She asks contemptuously if Hunn Raal will now wage war on the Azathanai. She says that T'riss disappeared as if she open a door in the air itself and Mother Dark recoiled from this power. Hunn Raal sees that Syntara is the same as him and tells her to take this information to Urusander. He tells her exactly what to say. He says she has light within her. She says she will now be a High Priestess of light. She says Liossan and asks who their enemies are. Hunn Raal responds that their enemies are anyone that seeks to hurt Mother Dark. He asks who could challenge this. She responds what about Draconus. He says Draconus uses Mother Dark, so is a threat along with The Deniers, and the brothers and sisters of the Monasteries. Syntara says they will plunge Kurald Galain into Civil War. Hunn Raal says they will prevent one. He says after they purge the realm it will be the end of war and Light will balance out the Dark. She says she wants Emral dead. He says no. Syntara dubs Urusander Father Light. She says she must leave immediately. She tells him his troops must wait now, the Highborn are no longer their enemies. He says he fears it may already be too late. She tells him to make sure it isn't.
Location: On the road to the Citadel
POV: Orfantal
The caravan comes upon some well equipped riders that are definitely not bandits. Haral moves the wagons to the side to allow them to pass. Orfantal notices the equipment of Urusander's legion. He asks Gripp if they are hunting bandits. He begins to say they are Legion. Gripp pinches him and tells him to shut up. Orfantal notices that Gripp is pale. Orfantal twists around to look at the soldiers and Gripp tells him to turn back around and ride on. Orfantal asks what's wrong. Gripp looks for a sign from Haral and sees it when he frowns. Gripp tells Orfantal to listen to him and that the soldiers are coming back. Orfantal asks why and Gripp says because the soldiers shouldn't be here. At least three of them were from disbanded units. He tells him to ride ahead and once he has a straight path to gallop. He says no more questions and don't look back. He slaps the nag's rump and she takes off. Orfantal hears swords being pulled as he runs away. He hears screaming. He presses the horse on and she gallops, but eventually slows.
He hears another horse galloping behind him and fears a knife in the back. The horse rushes past and he sees that it's Haral's but with no rider. It is soaked in blood and gore. He looks back, but is around a corner. He sees two riders emerge and they take off after him. His horse is laboring. Orfantal looks around for a place to hide. He pulls off onto a different path and hears the riders getting closer. He sees their swords are out. He kicks the horse forward and she sinks through the clay into mud. She pushes through. They are half way to the other side when she sinks to her belly and stops. Orfantal now crying sees that the two riders do not dare to follow into the mud. He dismounts and rolls away. The nag had now sunk to her shoulders. He knows she will die and knows that he betrayed her. He's not supposed to be the betrayer. He is able to stay on the crust because he is very light. He makes it across this bog and looks back to see the two riders leaving. He also sees two columns of black smoke and knows that all of his companions are dead. He knew they weren't bandits because they would not fire the wagons. He looks back at his horse. He goes back to her. He puts his arms around her neck and holds tight. The nag puts her cheek against his head and Orfantal weeps. The horse takes her last breath. He is now numb. He knows that the real world doesn't care about his fantasies. That anyone can be a betrayer and that he can trust no one, not even himself.

2 years ago I managed to lose about 100 pounds (from 255 to 155). Happiest I had ever been. The next two years have been college years, and in some areas, I started to slip a little with my habits, but managed to keep a decent weight (would range between 155 and 165). Truth be told, I had done some pretty intensive methods to reach that weight (daily workout and calorie counting), so it was EXTREMELY easy to slip, skip a day, etc etc. Just enough to jump me back into old habits.
Cut to now, my clothes are starting to get tight... I've been binging or picking up bad habits from eons ago. I haven't dared check the weight because the mirror is just enough to destroy me. I'm really scared and I don't know what to do... Obviously my brain tells me I have to go back to the drastic schedule I had beforehand, but thats obviously going to lead me to slip again (or perhaps not, a major factor was school stress, which is now over).
Has anyone ever crashed like this? How did you pick yourself back up? It feels like I'm losing a progress I'm never gonna get back...

Sometime in February we went for a work trip and since most of the work ended at around 4pm, we had the rest of the time to rest and just do extra activities. So this one time during the trip, some colleagues held a house party at the place they were staying. They invited us (who were staying in a different place) so on arriving, there were drinks and games and it was so much fun. After a series of games, came Truth or Dare and one of the dares was to mention who we find attractive in the office. Then it moved to who we have crushes on and i mentioned that i had a crush on the 32F. She said she had a crush on me too and we kissed. It was so quick. [BACKSTORY]
This didn't end here. On getting back home, we met so many times and shared amazing memories and in all this time, feelings were caught. The idea was to just live in the moment but, i was falling for her. So we had a discussion and figured, putting labels was a good idea. Remember, we're colleagues so it was VERY secretive. I still saw her at work and things were strictly professional. I liked that.
After a while, we were having one of those deep conversations and part of it was the ideal person we would both want to spend the rest of our lives with. This was where things got messy. Since she's older and even has kids, i didn't see her as someone I'd spend my life with and so in all honesty, i said this but didn't mention the fact that she is older and a mother. Now it got to a point where we decided that due to this, it's best to get rid of the labels and just live in the moment (do everything else that people in relationships do and see where it goes or doesn't go). This felt like a mini break up. But see now my issue was that we had feelings for each other and cutting them off was all good on paper. We are on the fence about what we both want. Healing has to take place and we need to give each other space. But I don't want to lose her.
I finally managed to convince myself to make the hard call and cut things off completely as we go back to being colleagues and that if at all things get better, it's easier to become platonic. This would also make it easier to be at peace within, cutting any doubts and having better odds at healing and moving on. So was ending things a good idea or would it have been better to stick around and figure things out in the already hot or cold situation? I'd be happy to clarify wherever necessary. I've cut some parts out cause it would have been too long.