Dog grooming school tuition

I have some really big decisions to make.
For some context: I just graduated w/ my bachelors in health education a couple days ago (finished in December but just had my ceremony but whatever that’s not relevant). I have been wanting to get my MPH. Love learning about public health and I feel like an MPH would be appropriate. However these price tags for one are insane. I had an extremely horrible financial situation in undergrad. Took out about $50k in federal loans, $7k in private loans, used so many credit cards (mine & families), and it was just a mess. That experience kinda gave me trauma. I told myself I would never put myself in that situation EVER again, and that I could take my time with grad school. I also promised my parents I would never put them in that situation again and that grad school is all on me. Well, I said this AFTER already applying to grad schools for this year because I was so set on going this year, now I’m not so sure.
I applied to 4 schools. Got accepted into 3 of them and still waiting to hear back from the other one.
1st school: located in my state, tuition is slightly on the cheaper side but they gave me no aid. According to their website, out of pocket costs for just one year are about $12,000. NOT including any type of indirect costs like housing, meals, etc. but I researched this area the rent is kinda high.
2nd school: located in VA. Got $2500 for only one semester which would be my very first semester. Tuition might be $30,000 per year not including housing, meals, etc. Rent is a little lower near this university.
3rd school: This was my top choice, located in DC. The tuition is about $85,000 for the entire program (2 years). They gave me a $36,000 scholarship. Would love to go here, but the tuition is more or less the same as my undergrad (which was way too expensive for me) and DC is already a high area.
So i guess im just asking for some sort of advice at this point. I’m itching to get my MPH, but dont wanna risk putting myself back in that situation. How do people even pay for grad school WITHOUT loans?

Received admission to both schools, and I need to make a decision by 5/20. I haven't had a chance to visit either school in person. I'm shooting for MBB consulting after school, if I strikeout I would look to pivot into a different role, maybe corp fin. I also want to end up back in Texas after I complete my MBA.
Darden pros: Darden is a consulting powerhouse, and Texas MBB offices are full of Draden grads.
Darden Cons: Rigorous curriculum, less active social life.
Ross Pros: Still a target for MBB, awesome social life, sports, can see myself happier in AA than Cville.
Ross Cons: not as many alum in Texas in MBB offices.
I would much rather prefer going to Ross for the "experience" aspect of the two years, but Darden seems to have some professional advantages on paper. Ross will be slightly less expensive ($15k total) due to tuition and scholarship differences. I suppose my ultimate question is how important having alumni in the offices I want to go to is? Could I still get myself to Texas from Michigan just as easily as I could through Darden?

I'm 15 ftm and I have so many exams coming up and I sabotaged my relationship becuase I'm just a bad person and I'll never escape my trauma or anything it just ruined me and made me terrible I've been molested twice once by a family friend then by my mum and I constantly get sexually hareased at school and I've been groomed loads it's something I literally can never escape and even though it's been 3 years I'm still in this absolute paralysing state of grief from my dad dying indont know what to do i feel like I'm choking on everything and it's ruined the only good relationship I've had with someone my age I really hope I can fix it and get better and be together forever I used to imagine us getting married and having kne of those nice knot tying ceremonies or us just laying down and hugging but I will never escape the fact that I'm a shit person I miss being groomed and wish I could feel love like that even though its wrong I just want to be good again ill do whatever it takes

Two years ago, I had just moved to a new house from a different neighbourhood for work. I was settling in and getting used to the place, but I was still lonely and went through bouts of depression.
My ex-boyfriend of five years had ended the relationship a while before I moved, and I wasn't having much luck going on dates. I eventually decided to focus my energy into work and fitness instead, but the loneliness lingered. The house still felt empty at times, and the silence was painful. I went through the motions numbly as the days passed by.
About two months after I had moved in, I started noticed a stray dog pacing around my front yard from time to time. It had big, brown, sad eyes, and there was no collar around its neck. I couldn't tell you what breed it was - a reverse Google image search tells me it looks like an Indian Pariah dog. I could always recognize it, as its left eye was slightly larger and darker than the right, but that gave it some unique charm. After seeing it outside my front door for three days straight, I put up some posters along my street inviting anyone who might have lost a dog to call me. I quickly learned that I probably shouldn't have done that, after getting a few silent calls from an unknown number that I eventually chalked up to being a prankster or some scammer.
I called a local animal shelter and them pictures of the dog. A guy came over to scan the dog for a microchip, but found nothing. He said it was most likely abandoned as a puppy. He could take it back to the shelter, or I could look after it for the time being - they would contact me if anyone ever tried to claim it. My grandad had a german shepherd that I used to love playing with, so I always had a soft spot for dogs and agreed to look after it, even if it was for a while. The guy from the animal shelter advised that if I didn't hear back in a week, I should take it to the vet to get it checked out and microchipped, or to the shelter if I didn't want to keep it.
I took care of the dog and let it roam around the living room, with free access to the back yard. I decided to name him Charlie, and purchased more dog food, a labelled dog collar, some brushes to groom him with and dog toys. The nearest vet was a two hour drive away. Work was busy so I wasn't incredibly flexible for a visit, but I managed to get an appointment booked in two weeks' time.
The first night I spent with Charlie, I realized that he might just be what I needed in my life. Late in the evening, I sat on the couch looking at him, sitting quietly in the middle of the room on my wooden floor. I began talking out loud to Charlie. It seemed stupid at first, but the way he sat quietly and listened was comforting. After a while, I got more into it, and vented about my loneliness and frustrations to the point of tears.
How I stayed with my cheating, gaslighting ex-boyfriend because I was too insecure to be alone, until he dumped me. All my failed dates, and how I thought I would die alone and unloved. I poured my heart out to my new companion, spilling my deepest secrets until I cried myself to sleep. The next day, I again began talking to Charlie about the pain and depression I had been through, and he listened patiently once more. I discovered that spending time with my new friend was cathartic. Perhaps I needed to get it all out, and be listened to for once, even if not fully understood.
The third day after I had taken Charlie in, I woke up to realize that I'd overslept half an hour. I poured some food into Charlie's bowl and brushed my teeth at lightning speed, then grabbed my bag and flung the door open, ready to bolt into my car. A surprise greeted me at the front door, that made me stop.
There was a bouquet of red and pink roses on my front door step.
I picked it up and looked at it, confused. There was no note attached or anything. I couldn't think of who it would be from - I obviously hadn't been on any dates recently. Being late for work, I didn't have much time to ponder, so I dropped the roses back on my doorstep and drove off. During the drive, I panicked for a second at the thought that it could have been my ex, but then realized he didn't know my new address, or even that I had moved. The mystery bugged me all day at work. When I came back home, the roses were gone, so I assumed someone had accidentally left them at the wrong address.
That night, I woke to the sound of creaking. As I opened my eyes slightly, I saw something at the foot of my bed and bolted upright, adrenaline rushing through me. As the fogginess faded, my heart rate settled a little.
"It’s just you, Charlie," I sighed, "you scared me."
Charlie continued to stare at me from the foot of my bed. After a minute, he stood up and left the room. I didn't think much of it, and fell back asleep.
For the next week, I continued the usual ritual of talking to Charlie before I went to bed. I would talk about my day, my plans, hopes, dreams and other such things. I found our one way conversations getting more positive each day - they were very therapeutic. Charlie would always stare at me with those big brown eyes and sit quietly still as I talked.
On the morning of the vet appointment, for which I had taken the day off work, I noticed that my car was much cleaner than usual. Had it always been this shiny? I thought. I had driven it to work the Friday before, but I hadn't taken notice of how clean it was then. The last time I had, I could swear there were bird droppings on the back window, and some general grime that covered it all round, but it was now spotless. I pondered for a few seconds, and came to the conclusion that it must've just be a brain lapse on my part - it was probably always clean. Those droppings must have washed away over time with a few rainy nights.
I drove Charlie down to the vet and explained the story of how I'd found him.
"He's very well behaved," she beamed, as she began examining Charlie on the table. "We see a few of these cases from time to time. People's dogs have puppies, and they get sold or abandoned."
"It's a real shame," I sighed. "Charlie's been a star, I'm lucky to have him really. I live alone, so as odd as it sounds, I've been talking to him and it's helped me through some difficult moments."
"That's not strange at all," replied the vet, checking his teeth. "Owning a dog can do wonders for your mental health, especially if you live alo-"
She suddenly stopped.
I stared as she squinted and moved Charlie's head up and down, trying to get a look at something. She plucked a light out of her pocket and aimed it into Charlie's left eye.
"What's wrong?" I asked. She didn't answer, and kept looking at Charlie from different angles. He whimpered slightly.
"Did his eye look like this when you found him?" She asked. I leaned in closer.
"Yeah, I did notice his left eye was slightly darker and larger than his right."
She looked at me for a second and raised her eyebrows, then back at Charlie.
"I'd like to get a closer look at his eye and examine it in the next room, if that's okay?"
"Uh, sure," I said, confused.
Without further explanation, she hastily picked Charlie up and carried him off into a different room. I sat down and waited, reading the news on my phone, expecting her to be back in a few minutes. However, when the vet didn’t come back for a while, my concern began to grow. I paced around the room and tried to glance into the door she had left through a few times.
Then I sat back down and watched the minutes pass by, getting more anxious. Hopefully it's nothing, I thought to myself. An easily curable eye infection perhaps, or a defect he was born with - hopefully it was something like that or nothing. I'd only spent a few weeks with Charlie, but he was the best friend I'd ever had. I had told him so much about me, and he was the only one that had ever really listened to me. I had grown very attached to him quickly, so I almost felt like a worried parent, blaming myself for not bringing him to the vet sooner.
An hour and a half passed, but it felt like eternity. The vet finally came back through the door. I stood up.
"Everything okay?" I asked.
"Have you noticed any odd events recently?" she asked, "Like, anything you couldn't explain?"
"To do with Charlie?"
"No, just in general. Anything you've seen or heard around you that felt out of place in your life?" She insisted. I took a second to think.
"I'm pretty sure this isn't gonna be relevant," I said, "But I have a couple of times. For instance, this morning I thought my car was a lot cleaner than usual. I've been getting some unknown calls, and hearing some creaking noises at night lately, but I'm sure it's just Charlie walking around and waking me up. And… someone left roses on my front doorstep one day. Didn't say from who, but… Sorry, I'm not sure why I'm even telling you this."
I looked up at the vet, who now had a very concerned look on her face.
"I'm going to have to call the police," she said.
It took a few seconds to register. A million thoughts started racing through my mind. Did I say something wrong? Did she think I was abusing Charlie?
"I swear," I said, "Everything I've told you is true, I'm really sorry it took me so long to bring him in, it's my first time owning a dog and all…"
"No, no, it's not that," she said. She gestured for me to follow her into the room through the door.
Charlie was sitting on a table in the middle of the room. There were a few other tables surrounding it, with dog toys and surgical equipment on them. There was a large hole where his left eye had been, now a gaping black cavity.
The vet pointed at a sheet of blue paper on a table next to the one Charlie was on. There were two black domes resting on it, like two halves of a black ping pong ball had been split in half. A clear fluid was covering the outer sides, and staining the blue paper. There was also a tiny black cube. I looked closer, and saw some red and green wires coming out of the tube.
"I took this out of Charlie's left eye," the vet explained, "I thought my eyes were fooling me, but I took a closer look and was sure this thing definitely shouldn't have been in his head. When I took it out, I thought it was some kind of prosthetic eye, until I heard something moving inside it. I opened it up, and found this."
She pointed at the tiny cube and picked it up with some tweezers, revealing a transparent circular window on one side.
"Now I'm no expert, but I took that apart just now and to me it looked a lot like the inside of a camera lens you'd get on a smartphone."
She looked back at me.
"Do you think…" She paused.
"Do you think it's possible someone could have been watching you for the past few days?"
The police were eventually called and an investigation started. The tiny device inside Charlie's eye was indeed a camera lens with a built in audio recording device, and it had a wireless connection. It was an advanced piece of kit, but with some technical expertise they were able to examine its traffic logs and identify an IP address to which the miniature device was streaming.
That IP address belonged to my neighbor, who lived in the house opposite to mine.
I had never seen him leave the house before, although when I moved in I did see his silhouette in the top floor window a couple of times. He was a fifty five year old balding, slightly overweight man who worked as an engineer, but otherwise lived a reclusive lifestyle. I later found out that he had multiple restraining orders placed against him from ex partners. He had a collection of tiny bugging devices which he had been planting in various places including public women's bathrooms for years. These devices could livestream video and audio to his computer, and in his spare time he would watch and listen to this footage he collected.
A while before I moved into the house, he had purchased a puppy from someone he knew, and kept it as a pet without registering it. I assume he got bored of spying on women in bathroom stalls, and when he saw me move into the house opposite, he suddenly got a wild idea of how he could get a peek at something more intimate. The rest is some truly horrific history.
Charlie had been in my room while I slept and even a couple of times while I undressed. But worst of all, I had told him everything about me. The names of previous partners, things about my family, companies I had worked for and more. I wish I could say that I kept Charlie, but I just couldn't. Not after that. The vet arranged for him to be sent to the animal shelter where I'm glad to say he eventually did find a new home. I also relocated and changed my phone number.
For anyone out there wondering, I'm still single. The difference is that nowadays, I'm completely at peace with being alone. I've experienced a worse alternative, that's for sure.

If you’d told me that the visitation with my son, an event that happened only every other weekend, would be extended indefinitely, I would’ve jumped with joy. In the end, I wish the circumstances under which they unfolded had never happened.
The clouds were sightless in the clear sky the day Jasmine dropped off my boy, a perfect day to play a little catch in the yard or go fishing at the nearby stock pond. Cyrus bounced out of the car and ran joyously toward me, unaware that his old man was a perpetual fuck up that had broken up the family in the first place. Oh well.
It was a happy day, the birds sang their old nostalgic tunes of a lost Summer in my own childhood. It was warm, not too warm, and the neighborhood was buzzing with excitement as the Spring showers had come to a close. It was as close as it could get to perfect.
The evening light danced against the tree tops, turning a violet hue as dusk began to settle in. Burnt orange water reflected the dying sun as it continued sinking away to nothing. We grabbed our tackle box, the giant beige one my uncle gifted me before he was stolen by cancer, and filled it with the empty, crumpled up bits of plastic that once held bologna sandwiches. As I said, it was a perfect day, very reminiscent of my own childhood.
We’d thrown the fat bluegill back that we had caught, I hadn’t felt like messing with cleaning and cooking them. Instead, dinner would likely be mac n’ cheese with some cut up hot dogs, a staple in my household whether or not Cyrus was visiting. Hopefully I hadn’t run through Oscar Meyer supply.
Home never felt so lonely, the walls never seemed so barren of old family pictures when Cyrus wasn’t around. Sometimes, he only added to the pain. I would never tell him that, though.
Even with the faucet turned all the way up, the water dribbled out and made boiling pasta a very patient game. Cyrus was babbling about some game he was playing on my phone. ‘He’s just a kid’, I thought, and pretended to be interested in whatever the hell he was talking about.
The sun had vanished and the moon was especially bright that night, having slid nearly halfway to its crescendo before dinner was finally done. Cyrus had stolen my phone to the living room, staring at the bright characters absentmindedly as a nondescript Netflix show played in the background.
“Here, buddy, sorry about the wait”, I sat the bowl of neon yellow stuff in front of him, the pink scramble of hotdog jutting out made me feel… a little ashamed? I plopped down next to him and flipped through the various titles on Netflix, most of which I had already seen a couple of times. Cyrus tossed the phone aside and picked at the mess of ‘food’ in the bowl. I can’t remember if he took a bite or not.
“Dad!”, I jumped, reeling from the doze I had fallen in. If Jasmine was here, it would’ve been such a perfect day, such a perfect day. Instead, this is where it all fell apart.
He massaged furiously at his temples, his knees pulled tight against his heaving chest.
“What’s the matter, are you okay?”, I jumped from the couch and got on one knee, putting my hands around his shoulders. I watched helplessly as Cyrus twisted and contorted his body, trying to run away from whatever pain was in his head.
Suddenly he fell still.
I studied him for a while, nearly on the verge of tears as his body had become totally limp. Then, a noise. At first it was quiet, then it grew and grew until it filled the room with totality. It’s hard to describe that noise, almost like a wind turbine if you were up close to it.
From behind the couch, just above my sons head, it peeked at me. Its thick, black fingers ended at sharp, nailess points. Just as I met its eyes, it slithered behind the couch and that’s when Cyrus awoke in a screaming fit.
I jumped awake again, Cyrus sitting next to me as pale as a sheet. His eyes were bulging, glued to the blank TV ahead.
I couldn’t help but check behind the couch, to make sure it wasn’t still there. Then, to my son who was still staring at the nothing on the television. His mouth was hanging open, just enough to allow the continuous stream of drool to fall out.
I ran to the kitchen to grab a paper towel and cleaned the odd amount of drool from his chin. There wasn’t a thermometer in the house but it didn’t take a rocket scientist to tell that he was burning up. A fever, I thought.
I carried the boy to his bedroom, feeling as though I was being watched the entire way, and tucked him into bed. A doctors visit would soon be on the horizon. I returned to the couch in the living room, careful to keep my gaze fixed on the TV and nothing else. Truthfully, I was too afraid to look in the shadowy corners.
That night was filled with nightmares.
The next day I rang Jasmine, letting her know that Cy was sick and needed to go to the doctor. Ordinarily, this wouldn’t have been an issue, but Jas was immunocompromised (she’d been diagnosed with breast cancer a few months before we divorced) and my son would be staying with me for the foreseeable future. I couldn’t complain, I didn’t get to see him nearly enough as it was.
That day was very much the opposite of the previous, the sky was gloomy and spits of rain fell consistently from dawn to nightfall.
The doctor had said that Cyrus had a particularly severe ear infection, but nothing that some antibiotics couldn’t fix. He sent us home with a tube of the stuff, my wallet noticeably lighter.
“Apply some of this twice a day, once in the morning and once before bedtime”, the older gentleman had said. He squeezed my shoulder and smiled, though there seemed to be something else behind his wary eyes.
He stopped me again as I turned to leave.
“Sir…”, he started, though he seemed to study his words carefully, “your son kept mentioning something he called the flumes”.
I shrugged, the only time I had heard the word was in reference to a ravine on the edge of town where we’d all smoke pot in high school. Nothing struck me as odd about it at the time.
“They come from the flumes, those noises, those noises, he kept saying”, the doctor pushed closer, his eyes growing wild. I stepped backward, tugging at Cy’s hand as we left the building wordlessly.
Aside from my busy mind, the car ride home was utterly silent. I could hear my boys heavy, labored breaths all the way from the backseat. ‘Inner ear infection, my ass’, I thought.
After laying Cyrus back down for bed, I fixed him a bowl of instant chicken and noodles and decided to give Jasmine a call. The phone rang endlessly before the robotic voice indicated that the caller wasn’t available. I tried once more but gave up after it rang a few more times. Probably sleeping.
I returned to the couch, deciding to rewatch Nightmare on Elm Street for the fourth or fifth time.
After a while, I decided to put on cable, growing tired of the listless titles on Netflix. I was never too interested in the local news, but today seemed as good as any to catch up on the towns happenings. The Grantfield Gators girls softball team had advanced to sectionals and one of the townsfolk were celebrating their 100th birthday.
A ‘Breaking News’ graphic slid below the frazzled newslady on the television. Wherever she was, it sure looked familiar.
‘Wild dog shits on mayors front yard’, I laughed at my own stupid joke and surely turned as white as Cyrus had the previous night as the lady on the TV continued.
“A local woman was found tied to a tree and disemboweled at the scene. Police are saying various symbols were branded all over the womans body, and the material used to bind her to the Elm tree was ‘of unusual property’”, she continued on for a while but I hadn’t noticed, the air had fallen heavy and that familiar warbling had filled the room again.
Heavy footsteps slammed up the staircase at an otherworldly pace. Up the staircase and towards my sons room.
I ran, I swear I ran as fast as I could but I knew… I knew.
When I got to his room, he was gone, the curtains blowing aimlessly in the wind as the window had been slammed open so hard that the glass had shattered in the panes. The bowl of chicken and noodles sat on the bedside table, untouched.
I tried calling Jasmine again and again and again. Still, no answer.
I wanted to write this, to whoever may be reading, so that you know where to look if I don’t return. I know where my son is, I know where Jasmine is.
The flumes took them, or whatever might be lurking in it.

Hey!
I am starting cosmetology school next month. Tuition is about US$24,000. I graduated undergrad thankfully with no debt so I am in an okay spot financially. I am flexible with putting down $3,000-5,000 of my own money to the school. My credit is 775.
So how do I go about getting this loan? I think I want to take one out for probably $20,000-25,000 (going to be lots of odds and ends expenses like uniforms, materials for working outside of school) but honestly, I need advice.
Do I need just a generic personal loan or is this federal student aid territory?
Do I waltz into a bank and sign some paperwork?
How long does it take for the loan to be granted?
Who is a good lender for this kind of situation?
Thank you. I am clueless!

Genocide looked to the sky. He thought of his mentor. The one who had saved him. He remembered his childhood. How powerless he was. He remembered the anger. He never wanted to hurt anybody. He thought of all the times he showed compassion. How much they hurt him for it. He saw the world before him, a graveyard. Humans. People that were supposed to be made in the image of some divine creator. They were but maggots feasting upon his remains. They ate away at his very being until nothing human remained. His thoughts were no longer his own. He had no joys in life that mattered. He hated humanity more than he could love anything about himself. He remember his first killing spree. Being gunned down by police. Left for dead. He remembered a hooded figure moving towards him. Getting closer the more he neared his death. He saw its pale face. Its impossibly black eyes. It was a man. This figure in question appeared to be of Japanese nationality with long, straight, loose hair. It emanated extreme malice. It offered him a choice. A purpose. Power. He thought the figure a reaper but it identified itself as Amakusa Masataka. Masataka guided him on how to kill and gave him specific locations to kill people in. In a sense, he became a hitman for quotas of people. He inquired what Masataka was. The presence of evil, his ability to appear and disappear at will, how he could control what people could see him and what people couldn't. While vague, years of killing for this being offered some insight. Amakusa Masataka belonged to a group of people not of this world. His people had been corrupted by a dark force long ago and had aligned themselves with the warlord who had subjugated their version of Japan. Their dark high priest assisted the warlord along with two others. These four rulers in turn served a larger order. The four were tasked with bringing about the end of the current world as an act of retribution for some fallen deity. Masataka's people acted as covert operatives for this empire. They were feared across the land and were collectively referred to as "Shinigami". An agent of the coming apocalypse, a servant of evil possessed by the will of those gods of death, Genocide would walk the earth.
Genocide stepped toward the station. A police cruiser rammed into him. He pulled out a knife and stabbed the hood of the car. The inhuman force of the knife created sparks which burst the engine into flames. The car crashed into a streetlight and exploded. A second cruiser neared the scene. No way a man could have done this. Yet still, out of the fires Genocide strode forth. It set upon the second vehicle, shooting out it's tires while jumping 9 feet into the air. The car tries to reverse but crashes into a wall. Genocide lands on the hood and kicks through the front window. Glass shatters under its boot, blinding the two officers inside. Genocide shoots one of the officers with a shotgun, killing him. The second officer in the passenger seat readies his pistol and takes aim. Only two shots fired, both directed at Genocide's head. It casually cocks its neck to avoid them. Then it grabs the officer's arm, breaking it. Genocide uses its free hand to grab the officer's head and bangs it into the dashboard no less than 5 times. The skull is shattered on the final impact. Genocide jumps off the car and continues on his mission.
Detective Evans speaks through a megaphone," This is your first and final warning. Stand down or we will use any and all means at our disposal to put you down." Genocide dropped its shotgun and raised its hands. A group of five SWAT team members rushed out the station, surrounding Genocide with riot shields. An officer accompanies them, edging behind the figure to apply handcuffs. Suddenly, Genocide springs to life , grabbing the officer behind him. He flips the officer over his head, slamming him into the pavement at his feet. Then Genocide stomps his head causing it to burst. Genocide drops a flash bomb from his coat sleeve, blinding the SWAT team as he draws his knife. He drives it into one SWAT member, the knife puncturing the shield and piercing his chest. Genocide kicks the corpse away withdrawing his knife. He goes to another, this time using the end of his boot toe in a rising kick to disarm their shield. He grabs them by the throat and drives the knife slowly into their eye socket. Another is tackled to the ground and beaten to death despite still being under the shield. Another is picked up and thrown into the fires still burning from the first auto incident. In no time, Genocide stood before an indistinguishable mass of gore, blood streaking across his black leather outfit. He laughed" So this is all you can give me. I'm not entertained." Officers took aim from the station windows, and snipers did so from other rooftops. Genocide laughed maniacally as he was rained down upon from all sides by a hailstorm of bullets. His body convulsed, but he did not fall. Moments more and he was on his knees. Still though, their efforts were futile. Gracia looked out and saw a black mist coalescing around the man in black. His blood. Blood erupted from his body only to transform into this dark mist that reentered his wounds. Genocide screamed. No. It was just an elevated pitch in his laughter. Optimism failed everyone yet again. Gracia saw Genocide holding something in his right hand. She could only make out a beeping red light. Genocide pushed the button triggering the carefully concealed explosives he laid in preparation for this event. C4 explosives went off in all the places he saw fit. The sniping posts he couldn't reach. The assault of lead lightened. Then Genocide drew an RPG from...somewhere. He collected himself and fired at the station's entrance. The explosion shook the station. From inside, the lights began to flicker. Communications were down on all fronts. Had he modified the rocket with some type of EMP? Not good. Amisdst the confusion Genocide entered using smoke bombs to mask his presence. Moving like a shadow, he killed everyone in the lobby silently with his knife. He made his way to the holding cells. Still they chanted. Still they praised. Still they raved for the arrival of genocide. Genocide shot the lock opening the cell. Jim Jimenez walked out and bowed before his master. Genocide smiled. He couldn't have imagined how proficient he had gotten with possession. Well, not quite possession. He had known of the Shinigami's ability to share their thoughts and emotions with humans. Shinigami like his mentor were ancient. They had so many years of memories, such strong a hatred for life that they overwhelmed the personality of the victim. The victim sees themselves as one of them. Shinigami can't force the will of the victim, so they find those who are already similar to them in some way. Genocide found the collective universal distrust of police to be a prime sentiment to capitalize on. He armed the inmates, infecting them with samples of his own dark essence.One particular inmate caught Genocide's eye. He knew the man's work. An arsonist. The one whom he recalls was responsible for blowing up his first car way back in high school. Rather than a standard firearm, Genocide gave the man a random assortment of grenades containing a special surprise. Genocide showed them visions of anarchy, of sending a message to a society that used and disregarded them. While this was also true of how he felt, years of living in darkness had changed him. He needed no purpose. No end goal. No justification. He just wanted to watch the world burn.
Genocide's small army broke off to engage several different wings of the station. Genocide went to the security room. He found Wayne, his informant, playing some FPS on one of the monitors. Wayne took of his headphones and asked," You kill everyone yet?" Genocide responded," No. You should get going before that happens. Your life becomes fair game if I run out of pigs to cook." Wayne clapped his hands, "Aight, GC my man, say less." He packed his things and left. Genocide drew a twin pair of handguns and laid waste to the station. He followed a group that took cover in the men's restroom. Kicking open multiple stalls he was surprised to find...nothing. Where had they gone? He turned around and saw his mentor, Masataka, smiling at him. It looked like him. Long, dark hair, black clothing, and soulless, empty eyes. But it wasn't. It was Genocide's own reflection in the mirror. Genocide smiled. He didn't notice the changes at first. They must have happened gradually. Subconsciously. From the final stall, an officer sprung into action, rushing Genocide, hitting him point blank with a shockgun round. Genocide felt the tingling sensation electrifying his body and grew numb. In spite of the pain, he took a single step. Then, another. He came within striking range of the officer and snatched the shockgun. Two more officers erupted from another stall, battering him with baton strikes. Genocide felt nothing. He clutched the shockgun in his hand like a bat and went to work pulverizing his attackers. An officer kicked in the bathroom door, a woman holding a pistol. She fired multiple times to no effect. Genocide stood covered in blood. He even let her reload. Twice. He wanted to see her despair. Her hopelessness. He walked towards her, shrugging off bullets as they pierced his body. His wounds healed nigh instantly due to the dark essence he had been imbued with. He held her face with both hands, lifting her body off the ground. As she screamed, he used her head to shatter the restroom mirror, running down the full length of it while smashing her into it at several points. He dropped the remains of what he held, washed his hands with soap, dried them, then exited the restroom.
The inmates that rallied for the cause of genocide attacked the station. Fortunately, they were nowhere near Genocide in terms of power and only carried one type of firearm each. They shared his healing ability but could be killed quite easily. Gracia encountered a sniper on the end or a west wing hallway. Other officers waited behind corners unable to get close. Gracia noticed the faulty lighting. In this hallway, the lights flickered in intervals of 3 seconds. Finding a pattern and timing her movements, she rushed the sniper at the exact moment the lights went out. Running the length of the hall, Gracia zigzagged, dodging the sniper inmate's bullets. She jumped on a wall, ran 3 feet on it, then kicked off it, pouncing on the assailant. She fired five shots into him, making sure to hit the brain and the heart. Two severe injuries that were impossible for Shinigami essence to heal simultaneously. Elsewhere, Evans took on another escaped inmate. A vehicular arsonist named Carson. Carson had a bag filled with an assortment of different grenades and was happily giving them out like candy on Halloween. "A flash bang here, a bit of tear gas there. Oh. Wait! Was that an ice grenade? Did the explosion freeze your leg to the floor? Whoops. Maybe a fire grenade will melt that for you. Hold on let me get one fore you," Carson rambled gleefully. Evans looked at the carnage before him. Officers burning. Officers partially frozen in blocks of ice. He took a breath and aimed his wristgun. He steadied his right forearm. Carson readied to throw a random grenade. Evans shot it the moment it left Carson's hand. The grenade exploded directly in front of Carson. Both Evans and Carson looked at each other in shock. Confetti. A party grenade? Carson quickly fumbled for another but was tackled and restrained by several officers. Meanwhile in the South wing, Lary had some colleagues set a trap for another shotgun toting inmate. He had them bait the inmate and flee. Giving chase he turned a corner and ran straight into Lary's fist. The inmate recovered and motioned to shoot Lary. "Let's tango. " Lary gave the code word. Nearby officers activated a device. A signal jammer of sorts. The inmate shoved the barrel of his gun into Lary's gut and pulled the trigger. Nothing. The special signal jammer in question was designed for firearms. It was a last resort as it left officers just as defenseless. Lary was having fun. He boxed the inmate in hand to hand combat. Despite the inmate's enhanced strength, Lary's technique pulled through. Lary ducked under one of the inmate's wide punches and did some type of rising uppercut where he jumped off the ground while spinning. One of the other officers whispered" The rising dragon." Lary smiled giving a thumbs up" Yeah, it was a rising dragon uppercut. Saw it in one O my kid's vidya games. Thought I'd try it out while I'm jacked on adrenaline".
Jim Jimenez looked long and hard at himself in the mirror. He was in the women's restroom. Some brainless woman had broken the men's restroom mirror with her face. For the first time in a long while Jim could think clearly. He was becoming sane. At the least he was no longer a raving lunatic. The life essence of the dark gods had healed the wounds to both his body and his mind. He saw his face, his scraggly dirty beard. He found a razor and shaved. He trimmed his beard somewhat. He liked it. He washed his hair. It fell down his face like silk, no longer greasy. His bloodshot eyes once burning with crazed intensity had cooled. He blinked. Just for a second, he saw the man known as Genocide. The man that attacked him. The one that killed him and gave him new life. The drug dealers. The police. They were all the same in his eyes now. They were all to blame for the world being what it is. Jim wanted to hate them. He wanted to take revenge, but he felt nothing. It didn't matter. He knew he was wronged, could logically justify acting against them, but he just didn't care anymore. About anything. He was finally free. Sensing his presence was no longer needed here, Jim vanished into the night. He needed to find someone who had had the answers he needed. Himself. Who had he been? Who was he now? Who could he become? Where was he going? So many questions to ponder indefinitely. So much time left in the rest of his life.
Genocide ran down the station's halls raining hailstorms of bullets upon its occupants. He had a handgun in each hand as well as a wristgun on each wrist. This effectively gave him 4 separate firearms that he could use simultaneously. Lary regrouped with Gracia, Evans, and a handful of others. They radioed all surviving officers near Genocide to flee to the roof. This plan had been set in motion days before the assault and had been kept hidden from most of the force. The plan involved scheduling flights for several helicopters to arrive at some point after Genocide arrived. There would be no way for him to prepare for them and pre-scheduling their arrival ensured they arrived regardless of if they were called or not. Lary and the others set about preparing the second jamming device. Genocide stood among a hallway of bodies. He saw one man clinging to life trying to crawl away. He decided on trying that other thing he saw his master do. He grabbed the dying man and pinned him to the wall. Slowly he drove a knife into his chest. As the man's life slipped away, something else entered his body. Genocide channeled a small amount of his essence into the vessel. He had steadily done this with other casualties around the station whose bodies were somewhat salvageable. He dropped the body he was holding and looked upon the others. He closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, his eyed were black, both sclera and iris. The scene before him changed. Genocide had a vision. He saw a dead gray wasteland littered with bodies. These people however weren't cops and wore traditional Japanese attire. In his hand wasn't a gun or knife but a short sickle akin to a farming tool. He heard a dark voice call out to him. Slowly, the corpses around him began to rise, now mere puppets bound eternally to their master's whim. The bodies sold to the reaper who had claimed their lives. Genocide's vision ended. His eyes had returned normal. Around him, dead cops began to rise. His dark essence had entered their bodies and reanimated them. He sent his dead army to attack the officers fleeing to the roof of the station. These zombies swarmed the stairwell giving chase to the few survivors. There were five of them. They had two flights of stairs to climb and a horde of their former colleagues close behind them. One officer tripped and was set upon by the horde. The zombies didn't bite them but held them firmly in place. The other four officers stared down wondering what to do. They could hear Genocide chuckling. They could hear humming. They could feel the temperature rising. Their colleague and the two zombies holding him were hit by an enormous green fireball. Genocide had fired a Magnum Opus and had charged the bullet to level 3. The Magnum Opus was simply a magnum that shot fireballs, with bullets that could be charged by holding down the trigger. It had three levels of charges. Level 1 was a small reddish ball of plasma. Level 2 was slightly larger and yellow. Level 3 was the maximum charge and resulted in a large slow moving green blast of energy. The officer was ignited and Genocide watched gleefully as the force of the blast sent him flying through a wall. The four officers continued up firing occasionally to slow down the zombies. Soon they made it to a door leading to the roof. Before one officer could reach it, he was sniped by Genocide, a bullet to the head killing him instantly. The remaining three made it out. They regrouped with the others already there, 12 in total, including Lary, Evans, and Gracia. This would be their final stand. They just had to hold out until Genocide made it up there. They just had to keep Genocide occupied until the helicopters arrived. Genocide slowly ascended the stairs behind his horde. On the roof, the remaining survivors faced off against waves of the undead. Evans recognized the attackers. These zombies were being controlled by nanomachines. He heard the stories of several weapons encountered by soldiers on the battlefield. These creatures were called Metaldeads as they were reanimated via machines. They had been officially banned by most of the worlds' governments for being unethical. However, this did not stop the technology from being spread still between shady organizations, terrorists, etc. Evans wondered how Genocide got this form of nanotechnology. Evans long speculated that the dark essence used by most of the killers they encountered was a a form of nanotech however it was different from anything else he had seen or heard about. The dark essence seemed to be an amalgamation of other types of nanotech. Evans had to save his inquiries for later. He reloaded his wristgun and took aim at the approaching group of Metaldeads. Gracia steadied her handgun and shot two Metaldeads in the head. From the single door countless arms seemed to spill forth from the darkness. The other officers took turns firing in intervals. this allowed them to create a steady stream of fire where no more that three guns needed to be reloaded at once. The horde seemed to thin out over time as if they were making progress. In actuality, the Metaldeads were just making room for Genocide to enter. Genocide exploded in a sprint from the door. Everyone fired upon the killer. Genocide had now chosen a wrist mounted mini flamethrower to use as his weapon. He stormed past the oncoming bullets taking some damage, but refused to slow down. He unleashed a stream of fire that caught five of the officers in one fell swoop. Gracia fired five rounds into Genocide's face. He stumbled back. Lary took the chance to fire several mine gun bullets at Genocide's feet. The mines quickly detected his movement and exploded. In seconds, Genocide was on his back.
Staring at the night sky Genocide saw the moon. He reached for it. He called for the darkness to give him more power. His wounds began healing. In the sky he could hear the whirl of propellers. There were six helicopters in total. The first two had evacuated the survivors while the others stayed to engage Genocide. Genocide got up and unstrapped the sniper rifle from his back. He stood before the searchlights as a black silhouette, cornered but unwilling to back down. Lary stared down at him smiling. "Okay!" He shouted, "Let's Tango!" Upon this declaration the second jamming device was activated. Now, isolated on the roof, Genocide's guns couldn't be fired and the helicopters were out of range of the device. Now Genocide stood like a sitting duck. A helicopter fired a rocket. Genocide side stepped and grabbed it. He turned his body redirecting the rocket to hit another helicopter. As it exploded Genocide drew his knife and threw it at another helicopter. Behind the knife was such force that it shattered the helicopter window's glass, embedding itself in the pilot. This helicopter too went down where it exploded. "Holy clucknuggets!Did you see that!?" Lary said dumbfounded. Evans looked out the helicopter door he was in jaw open in shock. "There's no way." He collected himself quickly and radioed the remaining two helicopters to keep moving and to use their machineguns as much as possible. The helicopters reigned down upon Genocide tearing apart his body. Shreds of leather and darkened blood sprayed across the pavement of the roof. Gracia watched as Genocide's body was destroyed repeatedly as it tried to heal. Surely he had to stop at some point. After 10 minutes the helicopters had exhausted their cache of ammunition and soldiers opted to fire their own rifles and occasionally throw grenades. After about six minutes, they too had run out of bullets. Genocide stood unfazed. He had long since healed himself and now appeared intangible with gunfire seeming to pass through his body. His coat once ripped , now appeared whole though on closer inspection seemed to writhe. Gracia looked in horror as she remembered the tales her adopted father had told her. Tales he had in turn heard from his predecessors. Every so often officers had reported encounters with ghost like beings cloaked in a cloud of living dark mist. The beings were rumored to be responsible for the deaths of multiple people ranging from scientists, veterans, mafia, politicians, etc. They were seen near such crime scenes and even more shockingly appeared around several sites where suicides were committed. These beings were reportedly impervious to bullets and filled anyone who got near with an impending sense of dread. If Genocide was connected to them or somehow turning into one , there was little chance they would be able to defeat him. Gracia's fears were confirmed when she saw that Genocide's leather coat had been destroyed and he had replaced it with the dark mist coalescing from his own spilled blood. The dark mist, swirling, grew larger and several tendrils sprouted out from it. Gracia could briefly make out a figure standing next to Genocide. A hooded figure cloaked in the same black substance. The figure stared up at her with soulless, blackened eyes which seemed to beckon her to jump from the aircraft she was standing in. Compelling her to give in to the death that plagued the earth. Genocide kneeled to his master. The Shinigami, Masataka stared down at his disciple. "You have done a great service to us. Even now the sealed god stirs in its slumber. Its...Awakening will soon be upon us. It calls out for war. It begs for famine. It longs to continue its conquest. We are the death it so desires. The death that is necessary for this civilization to grow. Use the power that I have bestowed upon you. Finish the mission as you see fit." The Shinigami vanished and Genocide stood.Genocide stared at his hands. He remembered the first killing spree. He was on a bus. It stopped. A woman got on the bus and walked to the back smiling as she passed him. Something about her eyes unnerved him. They were so bright but something dark reflected inside them. He ignored the thought and put in his headphones. In minutes he had dozed off. He jumped awake. He looked around and froze in panic. All around him, everyone had been hacked to pieces. He saw the driver, actively being stabbed by a masked assailant. The mask, painted white with black eyeholes, stared back at him. It raised a finger over where its lips would be. Even under the expressionless visage, he could feel that same smile. He ran home that morning. He went to his room to find it destroyed. His posters, his computer, his tv, everything, had been ruined. He turned around and saw a man at the end of the hallway holding a sledge hammer. "The hell you been, boy?", his stepdad sneered. The man dropped his hammer and walked closer, veins pulsing with rage. He tried to explain how his car had caught fire forcing him to walk 4 miles to the nearest bus stop, but the man's fist was faster than his words. "Boy!Answer me when I talk to you!!" the man says as he backhands the taste out of the would be Genocide's mouth. He took that beating for several minutes before being left to stare at his ransacked room. He hated how his stepdad went out of his way to destroy the things he loved. Soon, another set of footsteps could be heard. It was his mother standing behind his locked door. She didn't knock, or say anything. She just stood there, doing nothing as always. He never knew if she came to talk to him or apologize. All he knew was that she could never bring herself to speak to or even acknowledge him. Maybe out of guilt or perhaps shame. A year or two later after he had had enough he ran away from home. Living out on the streets alone, without friends, or family, he would embark on countless killing sprees. These killings weren't of his own volition however. He was coerced by some corrupt officers from The Unit. They made him kill on their behalf. Sometimes they were protesters, sometimes they were drug dealers, other times, petty criminals they couldn't be bothered to process. It was routine for him to be used to kill entire houses of drug riddled addicts. During one such venture he entered a drug den, killing the dealer as instructed. He took out several junkies before turning to leave. A woman who survived her injuries clung to his heel begging him to stop. Looking down he aimed the handgun he was carrying at her head of long disheveled brown hair and fired. Feeling nothing, he kicked her body aside like trash when it hit him. Her face. This woman had been his mother. What was she doing in a place like this? He felt a shock of emotion. He wondered if she had always been like this, or had she changed after he left. He never made amends, but decided to stop killing from then on. The unit did not like that. Once it became apparent that he was no longer of use to them they started a manhunt to apprehend him with lethal force. They found him. They killed him. But he survived.
He remembered the girl on the bus. He remembered her eyes. Those of a sadistic killer. Still there was something else inside them. Something faint but deeper. So. Much. Sadness. Just like him. He felt the hatred begin to spread. His purpose, he decided, was to make all humans rot in the hell they created for him.
These people, he thought to himself, these living diseases, all needed to die. Their struggles, their problems, they spread like cancer to others. The only cure for humanity's sin, its collective wrongdoings, was genocide.
Around him, dark tendrils continued to form and expand, spinning in a vortex. Genocide pulled out two pistols. He squeezed the triggers to no effect. "As I see fit, huh? Hehe." He squeezed both guns in his hands, breaking them into pieces. He concentrated. In his hands, two more guns materialized now completely black due to being forged from the dark essence. Forged by his will. Immune to the jamming device that shut down conventional firearms. He raised his arms at each remaining helicopter and opened fire. Countless tendrils whipped out and slashed at his targets joining the dark essence bullets. It was chaos. Dark tendrils and bullets tore through every direction as Genocide spun and swirled around in 360 degrees firing randomly with purpose. A tendril pierced Gracia's right arm, another, her abdomen. She was however, fortunate, as the other passengers of her helicopter were dismembered. She barely had time to jump from the vehicle before it crashed. She fell 2 yards onto solid concrete. She felt immense pain as her right shoulder shattered on impact. She looked up to see Genocide's blade like appendages ripping through the other escape helicopters. She rolled onto her back and tried to steady herself. Within seconds her body began to repair itself. The nanocells inside her had saved her life but were now depleted. She would need another supplement lest she receive another fatal injury. The standard nanocells she and the others had were much less potent than those of the killers they faced. In truth, they had only minimal strength boosts being able to lift 5-8 more pounds than before and healing being limited to one or two fatal injuries so long as death didn't occur instantly. Gracia blacked out. She awoke the next morning in a hospital. There the doctors refilled her nanocells. She learned that the station had been left in ruins. Genocide had detonated some type of minature nuke following his rampage. He always blew up the stations as if to send a message. Gracia looked out the window thinking about why she became a cop. Twice her family had been murdered by them. Her biological family had been killed in an on record drug raid committed by a group of corrupt officers called The Unit. She had been adopted by another officer that arrived at the scene who found her as a child hiding in a closed. Sadly, he too was killed for trying to expose the activities of The Unit. Gracia joined the force to avenge both losses and bring justice to the killers that disguised themselves as normal people. Law enforcement was neither good, nor bad. It depended upon the people that made it up. In the dying corrupt world Gracia lived in, she vowed to be a beacon of light. Evans laid in a bed adjacent to Lary. "That damn Genocide's somethin else in' he?Like the stories you told us were understatements. That man could legit not die at this point in the story. Like he has friggin plot armor or somthin.'' Evans cut him off" I get it. We all got our asses handed to us. But did you see that ..thing that appeared next to him. Right before he created that black vortex that wiped us out. That must have something to do with his power. Maybe there's a still a way to stop him."Lary chimed in," That fella looked like he was on the way to a black metal concert wit all the black facepaint he was wearin' Creeped me out to be honest." As the survivors mulled over their predicament, the cycle of evil continued to spread elsewhere.
Budley flips through the pages of a magazine. He checks his watch. He looks around the gas station and doesn't see any customers. Seizing the opportunity, he puts in his headphones and begins playing an imaginary guitar as he jams to a progressive deathcore album. Oblivious to the screams coming from outside, the store clerk moves on to thumping two candy bars on the counter to simulate drums. Budley sees that his shift has ended and begins locking up the store. He sweeps the aisles and jumps as a shadow appears behind him. He turns and sees a well groomed bearded man dressed in a black hoodie, black shirt, and black and gray camo pants. The man holds out his hand and smiles. Budley rings up the pack of nicotine substitute gum. "Tryin to kick the habit huh?" Budley asks. The man replies, "Somethin like that. Gotta get my priorities back in check. Focus on the things that really matter. That damn KonCreep's a hell of a band aren't they?" He nods to the playlist on Budley's phone. "Yeah, they're killer. just got into them a month back." Budley answers. "You know, I'm something of a musician myself. Maybe you'll hear of me on the news someday." Jim Jimenez says as he sees himself out. He walks to the back of the building and passes an ominous form of graffiti. A woman lays unmoving and above her, written on concrete in red is a message that simply says "Genocide Reigns".

Yo. I tend to keep to myself but fuck that. I’m a 4 month YouTube apprentice with no job because this mother fucking school can’t even get working computers in PLC class. Since Mr. Guerra or whatever his name is can’t give me my money back, have fun with this shit you punk mother Fucker.
Forward : I paid $20,000 for this bullshit.
Here you go internet: tear it up.
WHEN the instructor doesn’t show up. Then, they are just like “idk? Go home?” Happened probably 7 times. Dude has 7-8 absences. He was the instructor. Prob showed up for 1/4 of the zoom meetings, go to fuckin rehab, and get your shit together.
I had a legit absence cuz I had gallstones and I was in the hospital but they just told me to take the L on (second month) cuz “students were making their own schedule”. What? I made up the fucking lab, dude. Solo. By your means. That shit has nothing to do with me. Fuck that shit. So you ruined my (meaningless) perfect attendance. Dope. Moving on.
They gave us a chrome book that was constructed by a fucking dachshund wearing a tin foil hat, I’ve never seen a tablet dented straight out the box. This is just fucking sad.
This country is oppressed wherever you got that from.
And shame on you for that.
(Only actual things I can do, install switches and bend conduit. Cuz I taught myself, by myself. Thanks for the fucking conduit, but I coulda bought that myself with that tuition money, so fuck that)
Fun fact: Everyone in admin got a nice watch. You could give me that watch , Pa. We’d then be fuckin square. Actually shoes, too. And the belt. Run that shit.
Third month was a joke, not even sure what the Fuck we did, watched YouTube videos I think one day we watched the fucking cable guy. Yeah. The movie. With Jim Carey. “Basic safety”.
They gave us the 2020 code book, not the CURRENT one. (I enrolled in January 2024), and they have not done shit with it besides arbitrarily tell us how to use the index, which was in itself fucking stupid cuz I paid 20 grand for this. And I’m not 12, and I know how to read? For real? I have pointless tabs now in an out-dated code book that I have no idea what the application is for.
Online class is a fucking joke, instructors and students don’t even put on the fucking cameras. I’m the only sweaty mf with a camera still on my nasty mug. Wtf? Half the students have avatars so it looks like I’m on a god damn children safari rainforest cafe Cept with no PLCS or a working panel. It’s fucking wack. Put the fucking camera on your face, dog. I don’t give a shit you think you’re pretty or not. That’s not showing up. That’s a bitch move.
IBEW said I am fucked cuz I gotta deal with this shit first. Fuck this place. And fucking shame on this administration.
They promised tools, I don’t have shit. They promise and education, I don’t have it. They promised a job, don’t have it.
And to be honest, I know they won’t deliver.
FUcK UEI PHOENIX
-big guy

it’s my first type posting on reddit so i apologize for anything i did wrong on here BUT i’ve been working at this doggy daycare for awhile now and there is this golden doodle (u see were this is going) that comes in for both daycare and boarding pretty often and the owner refuse to get this guy regularly groomed. He’ll wait up to almost a year before he’d schedule a groom and by then the dog is completely matted and covered in grime from head to toe.
so my question is, how should i go about asking the customer for their dog? I asked everyone who has interacted with the owner and they all straight up called him a douche and that he never really seems to care about anything related to his dog (notes about his health, behavior, etc) or that he gets insanely angry/defensive whenever management or a receptionist talks about scheduling a grooming appointment. I don’t plan on going in guns blazing and asking for his dog directly cause that might piss him off but how would yall go about it?

First thing, I love my parents and my family. I am adopted, by my biological aunt and her husband. They are my mom and dad, I call them that, I don't view them as any less. I do have biological half siblings, but they were all adopted outside of the family and due to the circumstances of my bio mom, it is for the best that I do not contact them. I am my mothers oldest, and the rest are still young and my bio mom passed away a few years ago. I am the only one of her kids she had a relationship with.
I am an adult now, and have always craved having siblings. When I was in school, I always lied and told grandiose stories about siblings. "Oh my older brother is in the navy and my sister goes to fashion school in LA, thats why they aren't around", but really I was just lonely and wanted to fit in with everyone else. I can't help but find myself being incredibly jealous of my friends and boyfriend, who all have siblings that they are close with.
I feel robbed of a life experience that seemingly everyone else gets to have. Growing up together, sharing DNA with someone, having the same stories and memories to share together, going through the hardships together. What makes it worse is my parents always said "Well we have dogs! those are your siblings!" and I felt so mocked by that. Especially because THEY both have siblings that they love and spend time with.
Whenever I would act selfish as a child (ex. "I want to eat at THIS restaurant, not THAT one" my dad would say "You are such an only child. You have only child syndrome and can't compromise", as if it was my fault I am an only child? I was otherwise a very good kid but began acting out in my teenage years
Seeing my parents aging, knowing that I will have no one to help me when they begin to need assistance as they get older, is terrifying. No sibling to help with the finances, nobody to help me figure that out and navigate the help they may need. I see myself standing alone at their funerals one day and it makes the sad thought even worse. I resent them for it at times, I find there reasons for not wanting more kids so selfish and I feel I suffered as a result.
I will never truly get to be an aunt, I won't get to be at my siblings weddings or graduations or anything and I won't have siblings in my corner for those milestones either. My kids will only have their aunts from their dads side, and barely any family at all from mine.
I feel so much turmoil because now, there is no fixing or remedying this. What's done is done, I need to work on accepting my life as it is and not focusing so much on what I don't have.

Hello po, I need honest opinions po tungkol sa plano ko. Isa po akong graduating student ng SHS STEM strand. If may plans ba po ako mag migrate sa ibang bansa, would it be easier to get a job there if doon ako mismo nag school or okay na ba po na mag school ako dito then mag work doon?
I've talked to an agency for moving to Canada po kasi, and l've come to the conclusion na mas okay po nung option na mag undergrad diploma course muna ako doon (which will likely take two years), since mas mura muna siya. Then pwede rin po habang nag aaral ako nag papart time job para hindi na rin masyadong magastusan sa living expenses ang magulang ko (sila po kasi mostly mag fufund). Then they will give me a work permit applicable for 3 years after getting my diploma, where I'll be able to apply for permanent residency dahil sabi nila mas mapapamura na po ako ng tuition that way sa kukunin kong course na may degree na po + makaka ipon pa. Hopefully ma-credit rin po nung diploma ko for the course that I will be taking.
Ang problema po kasi is gusto ko po ngayon na year na ako mag start and sobrang mahal ng initial na gastusin compared sa pag aaral dito sa Pilipinas.
Or mag college nalang po ako muna dito sa Pilipinas? Then move once I graduate? Natatakot po kasi ako na baka pag dating ko sa ibang bansa di nila masyado ma acknowledge ang degree na makukuha ko po dito sa pinas.
Ang iniisip ko rin po kasi hindi na masyadong nagkakaiba ang gastusin dahil galing po akong province and mag cocollege po ako sa University sa Manila. So mapaparami pa rin po ang gastusin namin (tuition, living expenses, tood, ect.).
Gusto ko po kasi kunin na course is either BS Pharmacy, BS Biomedical Engineering, Veterinary Medicine, or Dentistry (Dental Medicine).
And kung mag undergrad diploma course pa po ako, ang pinaka alam ko po, as of now, na pwede kong kunin is Pharmacy Technician. May iba pa ba po kaya na Undergrad diploma course na pwede macredit sa pag kuha ko ng degree courses later on? Kinoconsider ko rin po kasi nung diploma course na mas in demand at mas makakatulong saakin makahanap ng trabaho bago ako mag degree course.
Ano po satingin niyo ang pinaka okay na option?
Sorry po sa long post haha

I am in my late 40's and I just buried my father after a nine year struggle with Alzheimer's. My mother is in a care home for advanced dementia. She will likely die in a year or two. I am an only child. My children, boys, are fairly young (7 and 11). My husband is my age and very kind.
With the loss of my parents, I find myself feeling very vulnerable and alone. I still have my husband (THANK GOD!) but I wake up in the night, terrified of what I would do if something happens to him. There is no other family for me. It's not about managing financially... it's about managing emotionally. What will I do when my kids are grown and I am widowed? Can I die alone?
EVERYTHING feels so temporary (and strangely, stale), sometimes... like I am falling through a world of things, collecting bits and throwing out bits in a whirlwind of endless, screaming change. And, yet, stale, in that the same old mid-morning sunlight that once fell on my mother's book collection in the early 1980's as I ran my fingers across the spines, is now falling on my own book collection as my children do the same. My mother's book collection is long since dispersed. When will mine also, be thrown back out into the world? But it's the same old light and the same old midmorning and the same old morning dove coos and the same old dog barking noises that exist in every neighborhood and even though it's new to my family, it's the same old house that's been here since 1928 and the only things that change are the people and the things in it... just falling through it in time.
This temporariness, this staleness.... it leaves me feeling very frightened.
When the school calls because my son is not behaving well, when the memory care facility calls because something is wrong, when the mail comes with a letter I wasn't expecting, when the doorbell rings at night, when my calendar begins to fill up with doctors appointment in an eerily similar way to my parents, when the Walgreens smells like the room my father died in, when I go to the dentist and everyone from receptionist to dentist is younger than me and the world seems to be filling up with people who don't have the experience I do... All I want to do is call my parents and have them comfort me. What will I do when I cannot call my husband?
So, I wonder, to those of you who have lived through this... what do you do when you are alone and afraid?
Thank you.

Yesterday I had to take my boy Chichi (Miniature Pinscher) who was almost 12 years old this month to an emergency vet. He'd been having health issues since last year, and about a week ago he started getting worse. Sunday morning we discovered a huge hole in his testicles but couldn't get him to see anyone until Monday afternoon. Our vet told us that with how bad his heart had gotten, he most likely wouldn't survive surgery, but there was a possibility he could, but we were reminded that given his age and how bad everything had gotten, those chances were low. I didn't want my baby to die with us not being with him, I didn't want to put him through that so I had to make the hardest decision I'd ever had to make, and I had to say goodbye.
There's this part of me that knew I was going to have to put him down, but there was this false sense of hope that he'd have a few more years with us. I don't think you can ever be prepared mentally even if you know that you have to make this sort of decision. I knew I was doing the right thing, but it didn't make me feel less guilty for bringing him there.
The thing is, this dog was my mom's dog originally, we'd gotten him when I was still in high school, I was almost 17 and my mom brought home this little dog that I thought was annoying, I don't really like smaller breeds but I think they're cute. He was such a drama queen and super sassy about everything. He figured out how to push the door open get into my room and started to sleep in there with me without me knowing. And after awhile he somehow became my dog, he chose me as his person and I couldn't say no to a dog that loved me as much as he did. I'm 28 now, I've had him for so long that him being gone just feels off, there's a part of me that's missing, and I miss him so much. Sorry for the long post, I just needed to get this off my chest.

Hello,
To preface I am on SSI not SSDI. I was told to contact a lawyer by somebody who told me this is a legal matter so I'd figure I'd start here first and pay for a lawyer if I really have to.
So I'm currently in school to get a Master's. I had applied for financial aid last year and I applied again this year not knowing that I couldn't get a new loan because I god TPD discharge. I didn't request the TPD it just happened on it's own. I'm at a cross roads because I'm unsure what to do as my school gave me a form for my doctor to determine whether I can participate in GSA or not. Until I get this form filled out my aid is on hold. My dilemma is that if he/she puts 'yes' would I lose my SSI? Would I have to report this to SSI or would it be something I mention when I'm up for review? If he puts I am disabled I won't get a loan. Now, I did call my loaner and request for a reinstatement as I never requested I had a discharge. They told me it automatically happened for me. Had I known I would have reinstated it sooner because they said they don't know when it will be reinstated so currently it's just in a request period and not reinstated yet.
I do also have a family member that is willing to pay for my tuition. not give me money personally, but pay my school the tuition which I understand is allowed as I've looked through this reddit for days and found somebody provided a link that it's allowed for people to pay your tuition and doesn't count as income: https://secure.ssa.gov/poms.nsf/lnx/0500830520#:\~:text=Gifts%20used%20to%20pay%20tuition%2C%20fees%2C%20or%20other%20necessary%20educational%20expenses&text=Income%20%2D%20Gifts%20(or%20a%20portion,education%2C%20are%20excluded%20from%20income. If I'm understanding this correctly or not please let me know.
Additionally I did talk to someone who has told me taking out a loan when you had one discharged is illegal. My only goal here is to do the right thing while also keeping myself alive and not end up in prison because i'm not trying to get by on anybody. Like if I have to get the form filled out and my dr puts I can do GSA I'll tell SSA if I'm supposed. If I lose SSI I can apply to medicaid through my state so that is what I'll just have to do. I just don't want to do the wrong thing or get in trouble.
So I was wondering should I get this form filled out? I dont know what my doctor will put seeing as he isn't the one who initially helped me get on SSI. The person I spoke to doesnt think my doctor will put I can't do GSA because of a new medication that came out that has drastically improved people's lives. While it has improved my life it hasn't increasingly improved it. I'm still a very borderline case, but according to the person I spoke to she said my dr won't help anybody on this medication to get disability. should I simply call up my financial aid office and tell them I didn't know, I made a mistake and ask if they can cancel it and just see if my family member is still willing to pay? Any other advice that I didn't mention would be greatly appreciated.

I went to this school for one year and paid off my tuition so I could transfer to another university. I paid this account about six or seven years ago. They released my transcript and everything. They don’t have a working phone number for me to call and when I went to the office, they told me there was nothing they could do. Is there anything legal I can do?

Next month will be two years since my boyfriend (22M) and I (22W) broke up. We started dating in 2019, which was the summer before out senior year of highschool. Prior to us dating, I accepted a college offer in Florida and he planned on going to aviation school in our home state in the midwest. Everything was perfect when we were together and we had no problems. It was the healthiest relationship, that made me feel on top of the world. We would do spontaneous stuff all the time, hangout almost everyday, and he was my absolute best friend.
The first year at college came around quick. He helped move me into my dorm and the day we left each other we were both crying in the airport. We both would visit at least once a month the first year and everything was normal. Towards the end of our first year in college and seemed to stop caring and trying much less. I was the only one asking to facetime, planning trips to see one another, and virtual dates. He was in aviation school and had to spend a great amount of time with his studies and flying, so I tried to understand that we are both just busy. He started to make a ton of friends, which was different thatn me because I was only allowed to be in my dorm due to covid so my only friends were my roomates.
This was a bit of a change because he would be busy often with his friends and I would sometimes feel like a loser when I would be waiting around for his calls.. but when he would call I would get SO excited and it was the beset part of my day. The calls started to be less and less. I would call him too of course, but he started to seem to have less and less time for me.
My sophomore year the relationship gradually started to get worse. He forgot to buy me anything for Valentines day and forgot my birthday. He would constantly miss online dates I was planning ( I planned because he didn't make initiative to). All I ever told him was that it didn't matter at all what he got me EVER, I just really appreciate the thought. I even told him I would send him the card and as long as he wrote in it I would love it (now looking back.. pathetic). After valentines, he said happy birthday on the wrong day and sent me an e-gift card to chipotle to my email. Of course I appreciated anything, but I was sad because I knew once again that he just hadn't cared enough and forgotten.
The thing that really changed our relationship was when I caught him lying about going to a strip club. I personally don't like strip clubs. I have been and find it disgusting. The men watch like absolute dogs and often times show little respect for the women. My boyfriend's friends on facetime would say " Can he go to the strip club? Come on! The place has ugly strippers anyways so It'll be funny". I said he can do whatever he wants and whatever he finds respectful to our relationship. I had the discussion in private with my boyfriend before and he showed no interest in going to a strip club and has declined himself in the past. Either way if they were going to either make fun or these women or to observe hot women, I find it disrepectful.
I ended up finding out via his friends snapchat story that they went. I confronted him the next morning and he tried lying and saying they didnt go. He ended up admitting and apologizing and saying he "knew I would be mad". I was more bothered that he lied to me rather than the fac the actually went. I NEVERRR took him for someone who would lie. He always told the truth because he didn't see any point in lying. In highschool one of his friends got caught smoking and his parents asked if he did it. Even though he wasn't even caught he just said yes because he said he saw no point in lying to them. There were just so many indications that he wasn't someone I would ever have to worry abou tlying or cheating. We fully trusted each other and were always honest.
This changed the dynamic for myself and I stopped trusting him. I remember checking through his phone once, which is something I would never ever imagine myself doing. At this time I was struggling with mental illness bad which didn't help the situation for me. I found nothing on his phone except for all pictures of us and messages between us and his family. I felt really guilty and knew I should never had done it, but I knew I no longer had trusted him the same anymore, which would eventually never come back.
Fast forward a few months into sophmore year of college and we start talkin gless and less. He was going without talking to me for days, I probably could've been missing for 48 hours and he wouldnt have known lolll. I eventually asked if he didn't want to be together anymore and got a "Thats what its feeling like" so I called it off from there. I discussed with him his lack of effort and he said it was because of the distance. Me personally, I am someone who would rather wait 2 years until we are out of college rather than never see him again,, but that feeling was not mutual. He also told me it just " wasn't fun anymore" , I needed to work on myself, and that he felt like he didn't know how to help me at times ( I have bad depression but often tried not to show it to him)
We went no contact for months and then ended up seeing each other again. We saw eachother for three days and slept together on the last day. I remember crying in his bathroom the last day because I knew it wasn't right and nothing changed. Since It just really didn't seem like anything changed and I distanced myself after this trip. We really didn't talk after that and within a short few months he had a new girlfriend. I was not surprised from this because he had never gone long without being in a relationship and seemed to always be in one since we knew each other from a young age. He was my first boyfriend and first person I had ever had sex with, so I think this has something to do with why I am having a hard time getting over it.
When we first broke up I would check his socials all the time and even found he had a new girlfriend from his Venmo account. I couldnt help myself from looking and would make myself feel worse everytime i looked. This last 6 months to a year I have really tried to not look at all his stuff, but I CONSTANTLY have dreams of him. Sometimes more than others, but I would say I at least have one dream every two weeks. This week I have dreamed about him the past three days every time i close my eyes. The dreams range from being happy to sad to angry. Lately they have been happy, but I try hard to differentiate that the dream is really not who he is.
He changed over the years we were together, and by the time we were done it just was not the same guy I fell in love with. My issues are the constant dreams reminding me of him and the fact I still feel really crushed over it. I don't understand how he could say he wanted to be with me forever and is my soul mate, and then do that to me. I often have questioned if Love is real after the break up, and find it hard believing I will ever find a connection like that again. I find it extremely hard to find someone I have feeling for in a romantic way because I refuse to drop my standards and the fish in the sea are seeming a little limited.
My question is how can I get over this broken heart? I feel I have done the right things and have not slept around with anyone, went to the gym, started new hobbies, but the aching feeling doesn't go away. It's felt unbearable lately and I feel the similar chest pain as the initial heartbreak. I want to move on and not feel sadness towards this anymore.

So I have my little guy here. I’m living in Georgia and originally the plan wasn’t to go to college. Which is why I got him in the first place. But now it’s been decided that I move to Arizona with some family to go to flight school which is roughly two years more or less. But I’m not sure what to do. I dont think it’s a good idea to bring him with me because my aunts family is a little crazy bc she has 3 very curious kids all under the age of 13. Along with cats and dogs. But if he stays here my mom has agreed to feeding him but I just worry about him having the right temperatures and humidity’s because she’s not too interested in him and I can see her leaving the lights on at night where it gets too hot and the humidity too low or she forgets to turn the lights on in the morning where it becomes too cold. I can’t see her touching him and taking him out to feed him either. Any suggestions?

About a month back I was laying in bed with a weighted stuffed animal on my chest and started crying. I was hit suddenly by the memory of waking up to my dog, dead on my chest.
I woke up eight years ago to a room temperature corpse on top of me, her head pushed up against me under my arm. Where she would always go to when I needed comforting. Yet I still went to school, kicking and screaming. Her corpse and everything I had of hers was gone when I got home. My mother wouldn’t tell me anything and I didn’t push too hard under fear of more abuse.
I grew up in a shitty house, well houses, we moved a lot. My mother would follow around anyone stupid enough to fuck her at the time, I was just the product of another fling to her. I never got the chance to process the grief or learn how to deal with any of my emotions. Thankfully my SO came into my life a few months later, they saved me but I feel like I’ve ignored my feelings this whole time.
For a month now I’ll just be working or at home relaxing and suddenly be holding back tears. I’m doing okay financially and all that but still in a rough spot in my life and I don’t know how to process these feelings. I keep trinkets from days or people I like, I had to leave everything when I “ran” away from home and started my life.
I don’t know how to stop feeling this way but it’s affecting my sleep which is effecting my work. If I can’t keep this job, I can’t buy land and retire early. I can’t keep a job for a multitude of reasons. And I can’t end it and leave my SO alone.
Sorry for the rambling, holding back tears at work, I just need advice or help… something.

Hello,
To preface I am on SSI not SSDI
So I'm currently in school to get a Master's. I had applied for financial aid last year and I applied again this year not knowing that I couldn't get a new loan because I god TPD. I didn't request the TPD it just happened on it's own. I'm at a cross roads because I'm unsure what to do as my school gave me a form for my doctor to determine whether I can participate in GSA or not. Until I get this form filled out my aid is on hold. My dilemma is that if he/she puts 'yes' would I lose my SSI? Would I have to report this to SSI or would it be something I mention when I'm up for review? If he puts I am disabled I won't get a loan. Now, I did call my loaner and request for a reinstatement as I never requested I had a discharge. They told me it automatically happened for me. Had I known I would have reinstated it sooner because they said they don't know when it will be reinstated so currently it's just in a request period and not reinstated yet.
I do also have a family member that is willing to pay for my tuition. not give me money personally, but pay my school the tuition which I understand is allowed as I've looked through this reddit for days and found somebody provided a link that it's allowed for people to pay your tuition and doesn't count as income: https://secure.ssa.gov/poms.nsf/lnx/0500830520#:\~:text=Gifts%20used%20to%20pay%20tuition%2C%20fees%2C%20or%20other%20necessary%20educational%20expenses&text=Income%20%2D%20Gifts%20(or%20a%20portion,education%2C%20are%20excluded%20from%20income. If I'm understanding this correctly or not please let me know.
Additionally I did talk to someone who has told me taking out a loan when you had one discharged is illegal. My only goal here is to do the right thing while also keeping myself alive and not end up in prison because i'm not trying to get by on anybody. Like if I have to get the form filled out and my dr puts I can do GSA I'll tell SSA if I'm supposed. If I lose SSI I can apply to medicaid through my state so that is what I'll just have to do. I just don't want to do the wrong thing or get in trouble.
So I was wondering should I get this form filled out? ( I dont know what my doctor will put seeing as he isn't the one who initially helped me get on SSI) or should I simply call up my financial aid office and tell them I didn't know, I made a mistake and ask if they can cancel it and just see if my family member is still willing to pay? or should I contact a lawyer?
edit: by the way I am still disabled. I'll never not be disabled. My condition just varies in intensity and some medication I've gotten access to has improved my life but I'm not suddenly cured. SO I am still disabled