My daughter will be two next month. Sleep has always been a bit turbulent for her, but never more than what is to be expected. About three weeks ago, she woke up after about two hours of sleep. We calmed her down and got her back into bed. Two hours later, she’s right back up. This has been going on all night, every single night without deviation for over three weeks now. My wife and I are taking shifts getting her back down, so no one in the house has slept soundly for almost a month. It’s really starting to take a toll on us. We’ve basically just been in survival mode.
I’ll try to provide as much context as I can:
-Before this, she would typically sleep 8 or 9 hours through the night.
-She’s falling asleep easily, just not staying asleep. My wife or I will sit in a chair in the nursery and hold her in our arms until she’s sound asleep, then gently place her in the bed. She’s usually asleep within 5 minutes.
-She was in a crib in her own room, but she was getting dangerously close to climbing out of it and falling, so we took the front rail off.
-We adhere to a fairly strict schedule for dinner, bath time and bed time.
-We watch her on a monitor. Before this started happening, it wasn’t uncommon to see her poke her head up in the middle of the night, look around the room for a second, and lay back down and fall back asleep. Now she pokes her head up, realizes she’s alone and immediately runs to the door and starts crying for my wife and me.
-She typically falls asleep with a white noise machine and a star projector light on in her room. We have tried every combination of having those on and off, to no avail.
-We have tried an appropriate dose of melatonin, lavender essential oils in her bath and in a diffuser, and magnesium lotion. None of those have had the slightest effect.
-We’ve tried shorter naps during the day. We’ve tried longer naps during the day. We’ve tried no nap during the day. We’ve tried exhausting her with play time in the late afternoon, all to no avail.
-We tried the “cry it out” method. She screamed at the top of her lungs until she made herself throw up, at which point my wife and I went in to clean her up and calm her down. This bit us in the butt, because now she’s waking up and trying to throw up, because she knows it will get us in the room with her faster.
-We took her to the pediatrician about a week and a half ago to see if they could offer any insight, to no avail. She’s a happy, healthy kid.
This has hit us like a freight train. My wife and I are really struggling, and it feels like there is no end in sight. Any insight at all would be greatly appreciated.

Knuckles the Echidna

"I am the last guardian of Angel Island. I will protect the Master Emerald. And I will do it alone if I have to."

To make a very long, complicated, and confusing story short, Knuckles the Echidna is the Guardian of the mythical Master Emerald and protector of the floating Angel Island (interchangeably called the Floating Island). He comes from a long line of Guardians, each serving as Guardian before him. Before his birth, his father, Locke, saw a dream he thought of as prophetic, and prepared his unborn baby with the power to handle his future responsibility...by blasting his egg with Chaos radiation, granting Knuckles his spiked fists and an aptitude for Chaos Energy manipulation.
Knuckles would go through many hardships throughout his life: His father's death, discovering his home then watching its destruction, and his endless fight against Dr. Eggman and the forces of the Dark Legion. Knuckles would even die and be brought back to life. However hard the going gets, though, Knuckles always manages to recover and hit harder. He's not just rougher than the rest of them; he's the best of them.

Section Key: I. Strength II. Speed/Agility III. Durability IV. Chaos Power V. Other VI. Hyper Knuckles VII. Chaos Knuckles Source Key: Knuckles' Chaotix - Chaotix Knuckles the Echidna - KtE# Sonic and Knuckles - S&K Sonic's Friendly Nemesis, Knuckles Miniseries - Nem# Sonic Quest - Quest# Sonic the Hedgehog (1993) - StC# Sonic the Hedgehog Free Comic Book Day - FCD# Sonic the Hedgehog Triple Trouble - Triple Sonic Super Special - Spe# Sonic Universe - SU# Sonic vs. Knuckles - SvK Super Sonic vs. Hyper Knuckles - SSvHK 

Feats are posted in chronological order.

For additional context on some feats, see a map of Angel Island here.

To see his feats during his time as the Enerjak, see here (Respect Thread by theusjshjdhdne)

I. Strength

Striking

• Breaks a fake Chaos Emerald.
• Breaks down a brick wall in one punch.
• Knocks out Fang with one punch.
• Destroys Metal Sonic in one blow when they’re both at a giant size.
• Brawls with Enerjak.
• Punches a hole in a giant machine.
• Brawls with Sonic until they’re both exhausted.
• Rams through a large metal robot.
• Breaks through an indeterminate amount of stone.
• Punches Sonic so hard Sally worries that Knuckles could have knocked Sonic’s head off.
• Shatters a few Egg Grapes.
• Punches Finivetus hard enough for him to bounce.
• Punches a sturdy trap wall hard enough to climb up it.
• Clashes fists against Finitevus hard enough to cause a shockwave.
• Punches the ground enough to crack it and create smoke.

Lifting/Grabbing

• While Perfect Chaos is flooding a city and Knuckles is in this water, he lifts a heavy generator that powers the entire city.
• Restrains an out-of-control Bunnie alongside Mighty and Vector.
• Catches a giant drill and prevents its rotation.
• Holds up rubble alongside Amy to prevent a cave-in.
• Snaps off an arm of the Egg Beater with Vector’s help.
• Grabs Finivetus by his cape and slams him into a wall hard enough to crack it.

Throwing

• Throws a dingo from one room to another to hit another dingo.
• Tosses Sonic above cloud level.
• Throws Thrash through a stone wall.

Other

• Anchors himself with his spikes during a tornado.
• Easily cuts a tree with ease.
• Powers through Thrash’s screams.

II. Speed/Agility

Combat/Evasion

• Evades falling boulders.
• Dodges a lot of traps completely unscathed including machine guns.
• Spins in a cyclone fast enough to throw a biker gang into the distance.
• Dodges a laser.
• Dodges a robot’s mace.
• Keeps up with Sonic going all-out pretty handily, at one point holding him down.
• Dodges multiple close-proximity lasers.
• Dodges Espio’s kunai in very close range.

Movement

• Speeds from near the outside of Angel Island to a distant mountain.
• Swims from the deepest point of the ocean floor to the surface before he loses oxygen, only not succeeding due to outside interference.
• Outruns a blast that quickly engulfs the Floating Island, only being hit when he reaches the end of the island. Out of everyone on the island, Knuckles is the only one able to outrun the blast and even reacts fast enough to throw a Dark Legion member into the blast before he starts actually running.
• Hops over a fence.
• Hops from one floating vehicle to another.

Gliding

• Can glide above the trees even in turbulent winds.
• For some reason his gliding works by using his dreadlocks???
• Okay, that isn't gliding, that's just flying, Knuckles.
• Can glide (fly) high enough to be significantly above Angel Island.

Other

• Swapped emeralds without Sonic and Eggman noticing.
• Able to keep balance on an Extreme Gear while grappling with Storm.

III. Durability

Blunt

• Struck by Sonic going at full speed.
• Bonked by Sonic hitting him with an entire tree.
• Hurt but able to handle being surprise attacked by Espio, Vector, and Mighty in succession.
• Tanks blows from Enerjak whose raw strength is stated to dwarf Knuckles’.
• Shot down by a giant laser.
• Takes a few blows from an alternate (Irish) version of himself.
• Hit by Sonic hard enough to create a hole in Castle Acorn.
• Launched into a wall by Thrash’s scream.
• Blasted repeatedly by Thrash’s screams, visibly no worse for wear.

Energy/Fire/Electricity

• Blasted by Enerjak.
• Gets the inside of his mouth burnt by Archimedes.
• Zapped by Enerjak.
• Hurt but generally fine after being splashed by lava.
• Tanks the edge of a blast that engulfed a large chunk of the Floating Island, still has enough energy to drag himself out of the ocean onto a piece of debris though he falls unconscious for twelve hours.
• Takes some hits from dingo goons armed with electric weapons.

Other

• Harmed but unfazed by getting drained by the energy siphon used on the Master Emerald that allows the Floating Island to stay, well, afloat.
• Seemingly unaffected by the pressure caused from being inside the very bottom of an ocean aside, more so worried about having no oxygen.
• Only worried about the cold while 30,000 meters above the already cloud level floating island.
• Is the first to regain consciousness after a crash.
• Crushed by a mechanical lobster.
• Gets caught in an avalanche, recovers quickly.

IV. Chaos Power

For a period during his conflicts with the Dark Legion, his latent Chaos power increased with time until an explosion would turn his skin green and properly transform him into Chaos Knuckles, losing his powers when he later died and revived. He didn't rekindle his powers until a conflict with Dr. Finivetus reawakened his latent abilities.
Knuckles usually doesn't use these abilities, but can break them out again when necessary.

Offensive

• Dismantles a machine on his neck then blasts Hunter into unconsciousness.
• Clashes with Finivetus hard enough to create a huge sphere of energy on Angel Island.

Non-Offensive

• Passively regenerates from a splash of lava.
• Creates a portal from Mobius’ surface to Angel Island.
• Flies with his eyes closed and “sees” his surroundings with help from the Guiding Star Gem.
• Either doesn’t register on an infrared sensor or genuinely has no body heat.
• Throws a few Chaos Spears.

Energy Generation

• Called a living Chaos Emerald as he projects a message to a fellow Guardian in an entirely different Zone; later corroborated by an examination performed by the Dark Legion.
• Generates enough natural power to overload a power system that winds up blowing up a complex and is implied to radiate enough energy after 15 minutes to be akin to nuclear fallout.

V. Other

• Can tell where Espio is even when he’s invisible.
• Carries a laser gun that destroys a door he cannot with brawn.
• Has the worst family tree.
• Called in by Sally to fight Sonic all-out on his level while Sonic is mind-controlled, Knuckles appearing right after Sonic wipes the floor with both the Freedom Fighters and Chaotix.
• Holds the Guiding Star, an artifact that creates a magical transport back to Angel Island from any place.
• Holds a Warp Ring which allows him to teleport to any location he sets his mind to.
• Resists Finivetus’ hypnotization.

VI. Hyper Knuckles

Also referred to as Super Knuckles, this form occurs when Knuckles absorbs sufficient Chaos Energy from the Chaos Emeralds, the Master Emerald, or a similarly potent source. With the power, he has the ability to take on powerful foes like Super Sonic and Master Mogul.

Strength

• Described as “a thousand times stronger” than usual.
• Tears apart reality fighting Super Sonic, destroying the Zone they fight in.
• Alongside Super Sonic, punches Master Mogul through buildings.
• Breaks the top of a mountain then throws Hunter across Angel Island.

Speed

• Keeps up with Super Sonic.
• Described as moving at “incalculable speeds”.

Durability

• Takes hits from Super Sonic.
• Tanks the Zone-busting clash between himself and Super Sonic but reverts back to normal.
• Completely ignores Chaos energy that was hurting him at base form.

Chaos Power

• Unleashes a surge of power that ends the war between the echidnas and dingoes.

VII. Chaos Knuckles

Due to Knuckles' father microwaving the baby imbuing Knuckles' egg with Chaos radiation, Knuckles' own Chaos energy grew until achieving the god-like Chaos Knuckles form, becoming closer to a living Chaos Emerald than an echidna. During his time as Chaos Knuckles, he was one of the most powerful beings in the multiverse if not the strongest outright, or at least stronger than (Turbo Tails and Dimitri as the Enerjak). However, his grasp of his powers was questionable at best and uncontrollable at worst, which would eventually lead to his demise.

Strength

• Bops Tails on the head.
• Beats Turbo Tails unconscious in a short fight.

Speed

• Unleashes a blast of energy before Tails can react, though he wasn’t in control of his actions.
• Keeps up with Turbo Tails.

Durability

• Stands undamaged in an epicenter of an explosion that knocked out multiple people including a Roboticized Mobian.
• Endures being siphoned of his energy until Charmy and Saffron free him.
• Surprise attacked by Turbo Tails.
• Tanks blows from Turbo Tails.
• Makes the scenario of Angel Island crashing and/or blowing up from Chaos energy nonlethal by taking the brunt of it himself; also a Chaos Power feat.
• Undamaged from a shot to the head that would have killed base Knuckles.

Chaos Power

Offensive

• Paralyzes a Roboticized Mobian.
• A shout throws around everybody surrounding him and teleports them to various places across the world.
• Unleashes a “tidal wave” of energy.
• An energy blast goes straight through Angel Island with the debris knocking out Tails.
• An optic laser harms Turbo Tails.
• Shoots down a meteor that would have destroyed the city of Echidnaopolis.

Non-Offensive

• Warps through time and space on accident; later does so on purpose.
• Teleports through time and space to Dimitri’s ship which moves at Mach 5.
• Detects the death of two echidna who crashed into the ship he is on.
• Read someone’s mind, though at the time he wasn’t sure how to do so consciously.
• Sends a telepathic message and projection of himself to his father across the Floating Island.
• Stops his heart to play dead.
• Heals somebody from critical condition.

Reality Warping

• Unconsciously warps reality on a fundamental scale, changing reality to different versions of itself: First to one resembling the OVA, then a reality without the Dark Legion, then a reality resembling SatAM, then to a reality where Sally is dead, finally to reality as it once was. Notably, both Sonic and Sally had full awareness of the changes during the changes, and everyone else had full awareness only after the fact.
• [Limit] Can’t stop events that would be inevitable through multiple methods such as Echidnaopolis’ destruction or the failure of Dimitri’s plan in the past.
• Manipulates time on an island-wide level to restore Angel Island to its original state before its inhabitants were teleported to another Zone.
• Creates flowers.
• [Limit] Blows himself up and dies saving Dimitri and destroying Mogul’s Chaos Siphon, ascending to a higher plane of existence in the Chaos Force (temporarily).
• Ejects himself from the Chaos Force and revives himself, but loses access to his powers.
• In one version of the future, warps the entirety of Mobius to his whim.

Characters Used for Scaling (all pre-Super Genesis Wave):

• Dimitri the Echidna.
• Dr. Finitevus.
• Egg Beater, Respect Thread by Proletlariet.
• Enerjak (as Dimitri), Respect Thread by theusjshjdhdne.
• Espio the Chameleon.
• Metal Sonic.
• Mighty the Armadillo, Respect Thread by theusjshjdhdne.
• Sonic the Hedgehog, Respect Thread by 76SUP and Joshless.
• Thrash the Tasmanian Devil.
• Vector the Crocodile.
• Tails the Fox.

Full report here:
The ‘Bull’ Perspective
Intel Corp (INTC): A Smart Investment for Forward-Thinking Investors
Summary:

1. Robust R&D Investment: Intel's $16 billion investment in R&D in 2023 positions the company to lead future technological innovation.
2. Strategic Expansion: Intel's aggressive expansion with five new manufacturing nodes in four years could significantly enhance its competitive edge.
3. Diversified Product Portfolio: Intel's diversified approach, including ventures into discrete GPUs and AI accelerators, opens up new revenue streams.
4. Smart Capital Strategy: Intel's Smart Capital approach leverages alternative financing and government grants to mitigate financial risks.
5. Supply Chain Resilience: Despite global challenges, Intel's supply chain strategy aims to maintain production efficiency and meet demand.

The ‘Bear’ Perspective
Navigating Turbulent Waters: Why Intel Corp May Not Be a Buy Right Now
Summary:

1. Rising Competition and Market Shifts: Intel faces fierce competition from AMD, Qualcomm, and NVIDIA, with Apple's vertical integration further intensifying the battle for market share.
2. Hefty R&D and Capital Expenditures: Intel's R&D spending hit $16 billion in 2023, and rising capital expenditures to update facilities could strain financial resources.
3. Manufacturing and Technological Risks: Intel's ambitious plans to launch five manufacturing nodes in four years come with the risk of delays and increased costs, reminiscent of past setbacks with 10nm and 7nm technologies.
4. Geopolitical and Supply Chain Vulnerabilities: Geopolitical tensions and a complex global supply chain expose Intel to potential disruptions, increased costs, and manufacturing delays.
5. Reliance on Third-Party Foundries and Market Volatility: Intel's pivot to third-party foundries and the unpredictable nature of the semiconductor market add layers of risk to its operational stability and financial outcomes.

My daughter will be two next month. Sleep has always been a bit turbulent for her, but never more than what is to be expected. About three weeks ago, she woke up after about two hours of sleep. We calmed her down and got her back into bed. Two hours later, she’s right back up. This has been going on all night, every single night without deviation for over three weeks now. My wife and I are taking shifts getting her back down, so no one in the house has slept soundly for almost a month. It’s really starting to take a toll on us. We’ve basically just been in survival mode.
I’ll try to provide as much context as I can:
-Before this, she would typically sleep 8 or 9 hours through the night.
-She’s falling asleep easily, just not staying asleep. My wife or I will sit in a chair in the nursery and hold her in our arms until she’s sound asleep, then gently place her in the bed. She’s usually asleep within 5 minutes.
-She was in a crib in her own room, but she was getting dangerously close to climbing out of it and falling, so we took the front rail off.
-We adhere to a fairly strict schedule for dinner, bath time and bed time.
-We watch her on a monitor. Before this started happening, it wasn’t uncommon to see her poke her head up in the middle of the night, look around the room for a second, and lay back down and fall back asleep. Now she pokes her head up, realizes she’s alone and immediately runs to the door and starts crying for my wife and me.
-She typically falls asleep with a white noise machine and a star projector light on in her room. We have tried every combination of having those on and off, to no avail.
-We have tried an appropriate dose of melatonin, lavender essential oils in her bath and in a diffuser, and magnesium lotion. None of those have had the slightest effect.
-We’ve tried shorter naps during the day. We’ve tried longer naps during the day. We’ve tried no nap during the day. We’ve tried exhausting her with play time in the late afternoon, all to no avail.
-We tried the “cry it out” method. She screamed at the top of her lungs until she made herself throw up, at which point my wife and I went in to clean her up and calm her down. This bit us in the butt, because now she’s waking up and trying to throw up, because she knows it will get us in the room with her faster.
-We took her to the pediatrician about a week and a half ago to see if they could offer any insight, to no avail. She’s a happy, healthy kid.
This has hit us like a freight train. My wife and I are really struggling, and it feels like there is no end in sight. Any insight at all would be greatly appreciated.

So I’ve never had precognitive dreams, but I’ve had voices twice recently now that have warned me about imminent disaster.
First time was my own accident. I used to always wear my seatbelt with just the lap belt on correctly, and my shoulder strap tucked behind. I’d been doing that for years. This one particular day, I had my seatbelt on that way, but at a red light I had a voice… really more like an overwhelming thought, that I need to put it on correctly. So I did. Ten minutes later I hydroplaned at 75 mph, hit a rock ditch in the median, and flipped four times. I was miraculously uninjured, but doubt it would have ended that way if I hadn’t heeded the voice.
Saturday, I had a similar experience. I’m a skydiver, but I wasn’t on the jump. Watching my friend coming in to land, I had an overwhelming voice, much like the seatbelt voice, that something horrible was about to happen. I ignored it, brushed it off—not much I could do at that point anyway. About 10 seconds later, her canopy collapsed from turbulence (she was injured but lived, thank God).
Is this a common/normal thing that happens to people, having this warning voice/thought before accidents or bad events? I guess I’m posting here to hear about others’ stories, and see if this is a common occurrence.

29M - USA - 2.5 Months
One concern that I had with the idea of SR when I first began contemplating the topic was that once "charged up" I would begin to behave foolishly concerning my dating prospects, and that the buildup of sexual energy would cause me to simp after women more heavily than if I was depleted, where I perceived I would be able to "play it cool" with girls. This was certainly the case to a significant extent during my initial streaks, and these types of outcomes were an impediment for me to realizing the advantages of SR in my early twenties.
The reason this was initially an issue for me is that the beginning of the beginning, as in, before any streaks longer than a month were accomplished my brain was highly sexualized causing me to behave in a deranged way once the buildup began. This still occurs, and is why in my opinion SR can be detrimental to a successful dating life because it oftentimes pedestalizes the act of sex, which can create a loop of Oxytocin deficiency which I believe is what causes people to enter their 'loner' phase.
I believe the cure for this is to break through successfully in personal endeavors unrelated to sex, which creates positive dopamine associated with elements outside of scoring with the opposite gender. My current realization is that before you're able to see improvements in behavior, there's going to be a dip and your behavior is actually going to get worse in many cases. This is of course referred to as a flatline, the longer you're able to go without O, the less extended flatlines will become with each subsequent streak. I also believe in the elasticity of streaks, for several years ago when I first began this journey I accomplished a 5 month streak, and my overall demeanor became pretty negative. That first 5 month streak was probably the most depressive period of my life, but it was a culmination of reaping what I had sewed for upwards of 10 years prior to that. Therefore, I can't blame the streak itself for this depressive time.
However, it did create some antisocial behaviors that I'm still unlearning and that I didn't have an issue with as much prior to that great streak. For one thing, my internet behavior became far more anonymous, and to this day my social media habits have shifted from representing my real identity through instagram/facebook, to browsing anonymously through reddit, youtube. This shift I believe created a psychological dissociation from my real world social media profiles, and now I have a l higher evel of anxiety about going on Instagram as myself that I consider to be an impediment. Of course, Social Media is generally considered harmful overall, but if the reason I'm not going on it is because of an anxiety, I consider that just as harmful. So that's something I'm working on.
When one goes 'monk mode' for too long, one may begin to cultivate the desire to begin forming attachments to girls again in the future, but find it more challenging to ride that bicycle compared to if they had not allowed the muscle of PUA to atrophy. That being said, re-integrating socially is definitely possible after a long SR streak, and in doing so you'll still possess any SR benefits that you cultivated during a lonersome period. Overall, I'd say the effort to change behaviors and re-invent yourself is more valuable than the loss of social calibration that can occur. I'm speaking on this topic from the experience of being unemployed for 8 months and then being thrust back into a job that required a high volume of person-to-person interactions.
Benefits on this streak:

• Found a new better higher paying job. I've been barbacking at a prominent restaurant for the last 4 months but I finally received a bartending offer at a different quality downtown establishment. I'm using all these adjectives because many restaurants are trash to bartend at, but the new spot is a place I am actually blessed to be working at.
  
• Reconnected with a childhood friend. They're doing quite well in their career and the wellness gained from my SR streak definitely leveled any psychological issues this would have otherwise caused between our friendship.
  
• Polarization with coworkers. Even though I'm sometimes overly aggressive / moody at work, SR positions me to be the person people are talking about rather than a sideline gossiper (this could be in my head, I'm not sure).
  
• Overall sense of optimism and deeper sense of purpose, even if that purpose is struggling to find an outlet.
  
• Physical: muscle growth, low body fat, Improvement in muscle tone, I'm lean af, my hairline is rock solid, teeth haven't been in pain once.
  
• Attraction from females at work, one extremely hot girl put her face right by mine the other day and told her friend who I knew from high school 'yep this guy is good vibes'. Still not cold approaching people outside of work as much as I would like, but people can tell I've got an energy to me
  
• This one girl at work hit me with a pullback and I've overall been handling it like a boss, even though these situations cause a greater sense of despair when on a decent streak, I've gained increased resilience to rejection and have maintained a strong demeanor, and I'm slowly become better at 'spinning plates' than I otherwise would be.
  
• This other girl at work has defended me in multiple instances and generally been supportive of my turbulent period of SR and in over-pursuing this other girl. This bartender was giving me a hard time and I eventually told her to 'chill tf out', she informed the manager. The other girl fist bumped me after she heard about it, and more recently when a manager snapped at me, she later defended me and said she "got my back".
  
• Haven't checked my T levels but I would estimate they have likely doubled based off how I feel.
  
• Resting chad face, the first physical changes that come with longer-term consistent streaks of at least a month over 2 years have certainly caused my jawline to improve and my face to widen. Natural 'mewing'
  
• Disassociation from past identity and sense of self. SR lets me feel that real change is possible. This sometimes manifests as a decrease in tasks/side hustles pursued in a day, but that is because I am consolidated and more conscious of avoiding spreading myself thin in too many directions, the way I would do in the past.
  
• Become capable of saying 'I love you' to my parents, something that we were never able to do for years. Overcame certain mental blocks.
  
• Decreased programming from YouTube & Social Media, I've found myself questioning some of the self-improvement content / general content I consume more than I probably would otherwise. Without SR, I would just be using this type of content to cope & clinging to every word. Greater critical thinking skills & self awareness.
  

The only downsides I've seen are that I have increased cravings for weed, although I've been able to take upwards of 5 days - 2 weeks at a time off. The issue is that with SR I'm able to handle THC and still function in a way I simply wouldn't be able to if I wasn't on a decent streak. I Haven't been as successful with quitting weed as I have with SR yet because I've been dreading the dip in performance that comes with quitting any substance, but I still do find the therapeutic benefits of use to be a silver lining and I feel the discipline I'm cultivating with SR will allow me to effectively quit in the future.
So far, this streak I've been mainly focused on interpersonal dynamics, but today for the first time in a while I was able to go deeper into my own world once again. I grabbed that bull by the horns & wrote this post, and focused on a side hustle.

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You are not recommended to try spells to bring a lover back if you are going through the following: You know that your relationship with your ex is toxic and the best painful option to take in this is to move on. It is not a good choice to be in a relationship that is un-natural, one that is built on witchcraft. The love spark as to be their at all times.
Even the most powerful love spell may not fulfill the things that are required for a real relationship to be in place. Love should be natural and if your partner looses interest in you, its better that you let them follow the heart. If one door closes, expect another open infront of you.
Therefore witchcraft or love spells should not be the ultimate solution to mending a broken heart in a relationship, one has to make love exist naturally by doing the right things to your partner, the things that will recapture the inner feelings of love and affection as you did in the start of the relationship.
Only if and when all has been tried and failed to work that one should order for my love spells that actually work, and indeed this will be the last nail in the coffin to fix your troubled relationship permanently.
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Skibidi gyatt rizz only in ohio duke dennis did you pray today livvy dunne rizzing up baby gronk sussy imposter pibby glitch in real life sigma alpha omega male grindset andrew tate goon cave freddy fazbear colleen ballinger smurf cat vs strawberry elephant blud dawg shmlawg ishowspeed a whole bunch of turbulence ambatukam bro really thinks he's carti literally hitting the griddy the ocky way kai cenat fanum tax garten of banban no edging in class not the mosquito again bussing axel in harlem whopper whopper whopper whopper 1 2 buckle my shoe goofy ahh aiden ross sin city monday left me broken quirked up white boy busting it down sexual style goated with the sauce john pork grimace shake kiki do you love me huggy wuggy nathaniel b lightskin stare biggest bird omar the referee amogus uncanny wholesome reddit chungus keanu reeves pizza tower zesty poggers kumalala savesta quandale dingle glizzy rose toy ankha zone thug shaker morbin time dj khaled sisyphus oceangate shadow wizard money gang ayo the pizza here PLUH nair butthole waxing t-pose ugandan knuckles family guy funny moments compilation with subway surfers gameplay at the bottom nickeh30 ratio uwu delulu opium bird cg5 mewing fortnite battle pass all my fellas gta 6 backrooms gigachad based cringe kino redpilled no nut november pokénut november wojak literally 1984 foot fetish F in the chat i love lean looksmaxxing gassy incredible theodore john kaczynski social credit bing chilling xbox live mrbeast kid named finger better caul saul i am a surgeon one in a krillion hit or miss i guess they never miss huh i like ya cut g ice spice we go gym kevin james josh hutcherson edit coffin of andy and leyley metal pipe falling

Sorry this took so long, kinda got caught up.
Don't have too much to say, other than Maple Whiskey is rapidly becoming one of my favorite drinks, and I'm sorry this took so long to come out. Real life kinda got in the way for a bit (I have one of those?), and I had to put stuff on the backburner. Sorry.
That about covers it.
Previous/Main/Discord/Next
_________________________________
Fries limped his way down the ship’s hallways, using the wall to his right to support himself. Twisted metal and debris littered the hallways, but it had clearly not come from this sector. He was in the center of the ship, far enough away that nothing was dangerously damaged yet, but they were obviously putting stuff in the wide, CEVA-rated hallways for the time being. He gritted his teeth from the pain and was forced to take short, shallow breaths as he walked. He clutched his side as he shuffled along, almost wishing that he was in one of the suits to help support him.
“Fuck me.” He muttered, pausing for a moment outside of his room to breathe. He was about to type in his code to unlock the door when he realized that it was already unlocked. Not sure why and fearing the worst, he drew his personal pistol from the back of his suit’s waistband, keeping it close in to himself to make sure that it couldn’t get pulled away from him. Exhaling sharply as he brought his arm away from his chest to hit the button that opened the door.
It quickly slid open with a sharp hiss and allowed him into the room. The lights were on, and the room didn’t seem to be different, but he distinctly remembered having locked the room prior. He slowly walked in, trying to clear as much as possible while coming in. He took note of the new bag in the room, but couldn’t see anything else new in the room.
His attention was rapidly divided by a shipwide alert that the admiral had left the vessel, causing him to turn around suddenly.
“You alright?” a voice behind him asked, causing him to rapidly turn around to aim the gun, but wound up hurting him more and causing him to drop to one knee.
“What in the fuck are you doing in my room?” the ODST whispered, barely able to speak from pain.
“Got moved down here for safety, you can ask Donahue.” she stated, helping him up and taking the gun from him.
“Got it… he just left the ship?” he asked, immediately attempting to lay himself down on the bed.
“Yeah, he’s heading to see the Tikaqick.” Firdaus stated with a slight bit of disdain in her voice.
“You got a problem with them?” the ODST muttered, barely looking at her.
“Not as many as with my own people, but certainly a fair number of problems with them.” she hissed, helping the man move towards the bathroom.
“You’re going to need to explain, but in a bit. I have like six different bandages to switch.” Fries grunted, closing the door behind him.
_____
“Sir?” the lieutenant Marine beside him asked, racking a round into her rifle’s chamber, “You alright?”
“Hmm?” The man asked, his head quickly snapping up to look at her, “Oh, yes. I’m fine.”
“You’re sure?” she asked again, watching as the man sealed on his helmet.
“Yes.” He nodded, shooting a glance back at the ship they left from, “Yes… it’s not my first time doing this…”
The crew continued on in relative silence. The Marines and ODSTs were a mix of the two crews, one of each being from the old crew and one of each being the replacement crew. The Marine Lieutenant was one of the new crew, along with the ODST Sergeant. The Marine Sergeant and ODST Captain, however, were both well experienced in combat.
“We’re approaching the landing bay.” The pilot called out over radio, “Thirty seconds.”
“Copy that.” Donahue nodded, standing up and bracing himself against the roof to avoid floating around, “Well… Guess it’s that time again.”
“There’s no CIA on board and the ship isn’t a USS.” The Marine sergeant stated, unbuckling himself but not standing up, “It’ll be different this time.”
“Let’s hope not. Flu’ron’s still on board.” James Orwell, the xenobiologist muttered, attempting to raise his reflective visor, to little avail.
The Marine floated over and helped the man with his visor before floating towards the pilots’ cabin door and letting himself in, floating between the two so he could see out the front window.
“Siddown, Sergeant.” One of the pilots muttered, not looking back as he did minute adjustments to the ship’s trajectory as they approached.
“This whole damn thing could be made of gold…” The Marine muttered, magnetically locking himself to the floor and kneeling down as they approached.
“Crossing threshold, standby for turbulence.” One of the pilots radioed out, a hydraulic whine reverberating through the ship’s hull as they lowered the landing gear.
“Back and seal the hatch, Sergeant.” The other pilot snapped, barely looking back at the Marine, instead focusing on the windows and displays ahead of them.
“Copy that.” The Marine nodded, taking the time to check the two pilots’ weapons stowed behind their chairs before floating himself back into the crew compartment and sealing the hatch behind him.
“Ten seconds to landing. Artificial Gravity is off in the bay, disarming OMS.” A pilot called out, still keeping a smooth voice about him, “Threshold crossed, stand by.”
The ship seemed to do nothing for a moment before a very light shudder echoed through the hull, followed by a sharp, metallic ‘thud’.
“We have contact, maglocks engaged.” The first pilot informed.
“Gravity systems and harmonics coming online. Disengaging RCS.” the second pilot called out, likely talking to his partner over the crew in the back. After a few seconds of silence, the ship seemed to spool down and orange lights came on in the back of the crew compartment, showing up just over the CEVA-sized, round airlock doors at the sides of the craft and above the regularly-sized hexagonal door at the back of the craft. After a moment, a female robotic voice called out ‘Pressure stable’ and the lights switched to green.
“We’re down. Thank you for flying Air Peregrine, please take your bags from the overhead compartments and leave in an orderly fashion.” one of the pilots called out, putting on an extremely good and smooth ‘airline’ voice.
“You are aware that you’re talking to an Admiral, right.?” the Marine Lieutenant asked, seemingly disappointed at the pilot.
“Oh, I imagine he does.” Donahue smiled, motioning for the ODSTs to head out the door first.
The two armored figures were already moving towards the door, letting the ladder come out first before checking pressure one last time and opening the rear door. To their shock and horror, the void of space lay just outside the door, though nothing was losing pressure.
“Plasma barrier?” a Marine asked, his voice faltering slightly when he saw the smoking form of the Dracula in the distance.
“Something like that…” James muttered, waiting for the Admiral to head down the ladder after the ODSTs before following him down.
There were no aliens directly off their ship, which surprised them slightly, but gave the crew time to prepare themselves. They were supposed to form a ‘triangle’ with Donahue at the front, the two ODSTs behind him, and the two Marines on either side of James, behind the ODSTs. However, they had more than enough time to prepare, to the point of it becoming awkward. The team moved to the left side of the Ranger, and sat in waiting. The Marine Sergeant began to get skeptical and checked the chamber of his rifle while his reflective visor dropped into place, subtly preparing for a conflict.
However, before their thoughts could fester any further, a door off the left-side nose of the Ranger opened to reveal the creatures that owned the ship. They were around the same height as a Human, albeit seeming a little taller on average. They were obviously Avian-esque, with short, stubby, owl-like faces, in opposition to the long beaks of Afi’end. They had two large eyes just behind their beak, with what appeared to be two sets of closed eyelids underneath them. Their feathers were gray and black, with a small amount of crow-like iridescence in them. They had long wings which wrapped around their bodies, making a ‘cloak’ around them. Their legs were similar to that of an Afi’end’s, but seemed slightly thinner.
They wore thick, heavily stylized armor. It had gold plating with ivory and blue-diamond accents, glassy pauldrons, and other, seemingly glowing, lines and accents in it.
The rest of the ship looked similar; with gold, ivory, and blue-diamond glass seeming to come from all parts of the ship. The ship looked incredibly clean, with no smudging seeming to come from anything except the Humans. The flight deck they were on was made of some kind of ivory-esque compound as well, with the only scuffs on it being from the RCS thrusters the Ranger had used earlier. Against the gold, whites, and blues of the alien vessel, the greens, grays, and oranges of the Human suits contrasted hard;
Donahue’s suit was nothing special, nor was it too dirty, but it was not perfectly hermetic, like the rest of the ship seemed to be. James’ suit did seem to fit their criteria of cleanliness everywhere except his boots, where it was obvious that he hadn’t put hours of work into cleaning the dirt out of the fabric on the last surface mission he had done. The Marines’s suits were the most well-loved; boasting patches of stained mud, foliage, and other assorted junk all over the suit. The ODSTs were clearly battle-damaged, however: Cuts and scrapes into the plating could be seen around the arms and chest, with plasma burns etched into the metal of the helmet on the more experienced man.
Donahue almost wished he had been able to wash his suit now, but he hoped they would understand.
“Hey, we’re not the only ones to bring armed guards.” The ODST to his right stated.
“Oh thank Christ.” Donahue muttered, shifting his reflective faceplate up, “I would have felt awful if they trusted us that much.”
“Feel better, they don’t.” The ODST muttered back, standing up straighter as the aliens approached.
“Admiral Donahue?” the creature at the front of the group asked, looking at the admiral in the front of his own group.
“Captain Kinlykc?” Donahue asked, stepping towards the aliens. The creature seemed mildly amused at the Admiral’s suit, but went back to looking him in the eyes shortly after.
There was an awkward silence for a moment before the alien decided that it was likely in everyone’s best interests if something was said.
“Apologies for my awkwardness in this situation; it has been a long time since I’ve had the pleasure of doing a proper first-contact scenario.” it stated, clearly motioning for his own guards behind him to be less on-guard. The Humans were taken aback a bit, as the creature didn’t move his mouth to speak, but more seemed to emanate the words from itself.
Donahue nodded, but didn’t have to motion to his own men, as they had already come to stand down themselves.
“Entertainingly enough, I was still captaining that ship out there for our true first contact.” Donahue nodded, making sure that both his hands were visible in front of him.
“Really?” the avian asked, motioning for the admiral to follow him deeper into the ship, “Is your ship the only one in your fleet?”
Donahue paused for a moment before following the alien Captain, motioning for his team to follow shortly behind him.
“Negative, we’re just lucky.” The Admiral smiled, attempting to hide his trepidation through humor. The ODSTs were just as slow to follow behind, but eventually caught back up, seemingly worried about leaving the pilots alone. They were brought into a wide hallway. It had the same stylings as the docking bay had, but seemed to have ‘tiling’ instead of the solid piece that the other room had. James slowly pushed his way through the column of armored personnel and wound up beside the Admiral.
“Umm, excuse me, Captain Kinlykc?” He asked, fiddling with his suit to attempt to make sure the external speakers were working.
“Yes?” the avian asked, looking back at the scientist.
“How… are you talking?” He asked, not sure whether the question was to be considered rude or not, “As in, your mouth isn’t moving, how are you talking to us?”
After the scientist clarified himself, the avian seemed to understand the question.
“We do not breathe through our mouth, I’m assuming like you do then.” It nodded, tapping on its beak and unfolding its wings. It raised its arms and pointed at a set of openings under the creature’s armpits, “We breathe and vocalize through these.”
James was speechless for a moment, but the Admiral was relatively sure that was because he was deciding whether or not it was entirely wrong to lean in closer for a better look.
“If you do not mind me asking a question of my own, what are the clothes you’re wearing?” The avian asked, motioning to everybody except the ODSTs, “Are they your uniforms?”
“These?” James repeated, pulling at his suit, “These are pressure suits. To keep our own atmosphere in.”
“But why?” The bird asked, continuing down the path, “We scanned your vessel as the door opened to analyze what your atmosphere was to accommodate, and they were almost identical.”
"We pressurized our vessel to the bay’s atmosphere.” Donahue stated, nodding at the two, “Our atmospheres are similar, and very breathable, but not the same.”
“Why the pressurized suits then? We can breathe the same atmosphere, no?”
“Our people are not nearly as advanced as some others, who can do bacterial scans of atmospheres before they even land to make sure that neither side will infect the other. We cannot do that, so we hermetically seal off from everybody else to avoid infecting them.” James stated, finishing Donahue’s explanation.
That was an answer that seemed to sit well with the avian, who nodded at them and continued down the hallways.
_____
Kinsey practically dive-rolled out of her vessel’s docking port and into the Dracula’s gravity field, her helmetless RHEV suit’s bulk causing her to roll erratically to the side. She quickly got back up and started jogging her way to the other side of the ship, her quickly-moving, armored figure moving everybody out of her way. She wasn’t in any actual hurry, but the message did have to be delivered relatively quickly.
She quickly dog-legged down a side hallway and towards flight bay 3, near the primary medical bay. As soon as she was at the area, she started heading back towards the outer hull of the ship again, turning only when she was directly on a course with the med bay. After a few moments of running, she turned into the medbay, where Flu’ron was inspecting a rifle another Marine had given him.
“Feathers!” she called out, skidding to a halt outside the door.
“Oh Hells.” Flu’ron muttered as he looked up at her. He handed the rifle back to the Marine and walked towards her, “What do you need, Doctor?”
“Only us Marines can call him ‘Feathers’.” the Marine muttered, putting on a fake pout for her.
“Look!” She exclaimed, ignoring the Marine’s protest and shoving a datapad into the avian’s face.
After pulling back a bit, he took the pad from her and started reading the text on it. After a moment, during which the Marine came over to see what the commotion was, Flu’ron looked up from the pad and nodded at her.
“Well… Goddamn!” He smiled, handing the pad back and pulling out his own tablet, “One-hundred. Going your way.”
“Woah, hold on, I think I missed something. What’s going on?” the Marine asked, confused as to why the Afi’end was sending the scientist money.
“Her brother, who was listed KIA a month and a half ago, is not dead.” Flu’ron explained calmly, watching as the scientist practically bounced off the walls with excitement. He wasn’t sure whether it was because of the money or that Frost was still alive.
“And the fucker made it onto Xalantun before me!” Kinsey stated, calming down enough to get the words out.
“You saw the ‘sent’ date, right?” Flu’ron stated, making sure she knew how recently she had received it.
“Three hours, forty-five minutes ago!” she stated, nodding enthusiastically.
“If the round-trip time isn’t that long, why’d it take him nearly a month to respond?” Flu’ron asked, just sitting down to enjoy the show.
“I’ve got two theories; either he’s been too busy to respond, or this is the first time he’s gotten a data dump in months.” She stated, “Where’s Firdaus, she owes me money!”
Flu’ron shrugged, but the Marine perked up, “To my knowledge, she’s down in Deck 5, section 6, subsection 3, room 156. She’s keeping hidden from the alien ships around us.”
Kinsey perked up at that knowledge, suddenly looking concerned, “Hold on, what?”
“Yeah, she’s residing in an ODST’s room, to my knowledge. Not sure why she’s hiding though. I’m not saying anything to anybody who isn’t a crewmember on board this ship though, aside from you, doc; she wants to stay hidden, we’ll keep her that way.”
“In an ODST’s room?” Kinsey asked, looking immediately at Flu’ron.
“He’s got four broken ribs, you need to go stop her.” the avian stated, rolling his eyes, “I’ll prep the machines, just in case.”
“Ok, I gotta check on two things with her then.” Kinsey stated, nodding at the two before running out of the room and yelling “Carry on!” at the pair.
_____
“Peregrine, we’re going deeper into the vessel, think you can handle yourselves?” The Marine Sergeant asked, slinging his rifle onto his back.
“Hey! Keep that thing out!” the Lieutenant snapped, motioning to his gun again.
The man rolled his eyes, but unlimbered his rifle again.
“Copy that, Praetor. We’re good for the time being.”
“Understood. Keep us apprised, yeah?” the Marine radioed back, shifting his suit around to relieve a pinch he had created in his armpit.
“Copy that, Praetor. Out.” one of the pilots responded back, killing the communications network afterwards. The Marines and ODSTs walked alongside the Admiral and xenobiologist in silence, taking intrigued glances down hallways as they passed them, and receiving intrigued glances back from aliens as they passed them in the hallways. They weren’t entirely privy to the conversation that was happening ahead of them, but they weren’t looking to be part of it either. The two veterans were far more interested in getting a good look at the ship than having to talk to anybody, and the two newer members were still too paranoid to pay attention to anything other than their duties.
They were brought into an unoccupied room with a large window that looked out into the deep space just beyond, though the Dracula and other alien vessel blocked the view. The guards from both species gave a quick visual sweep of the room as they came in. Upon watching the Tikaqick guards sit down or generally relax, the veteran ODST and Marine slung their weapons and moved towards the back of the room, motioning for the other two to do so as well. Despite obvious hesitation to do so, they eventually moved to the back with the other two soldiers.
“So what, if you are able to tell me, are your people doing out here?” Captain Kinlykc asked, glancing back at the soldiers momentarily before returning his gaze to the Human ship.
“Sadly, I am not able to give you our reasoning for being out here. That’s not exactly something I can give away freely.” Donahue sighed, not even sure why he’d actually have to explain that, “What I can tell you is that we weren’t planning to be out this far.”
“Really?” the avian asked, looking at the man with surprise, “Scans have indicated that your vessel is prepared for long-range assignments, based on compartmentalization and areas theorized to be for food.”
Donahue raised an eyebrow at the statement, realizing that they likely had a near-perfect model of the interior of the ship if they could theorize about the ship’s rooms, even if they couldn’t entirely see the contents of the rooms. He was relatively concerned at the revelation, but didn’t let it show.
“Well, that ship is a modification of our first attempt at a long-range exploration ship, but the project was canceled five years before first contact.” Donahue explained, watching as a few suited figures climbed around the hull of his vessel, “There were only ever three of the ships created, all of which got converted to combat duty."
“Really? I know they got converted, but what became of the other vessels?” the avian asked, seemingly entranced by the same men on the hull.
“Well, the Armstrong-Class exploration vessels, named the AC-00 J.T.K., AC-01 J. Harker, and AC-02 M. Reynolds, were all brought back to our home planet as soon as possible, be that from assignment or construction, for retrofit.” Donahue explained, turning away from the window so he could better look at the avian, who saw the gesture and did the same, “The J.T.K. was a prototype, and was axed shortly thereafter. The Reynolds was renamed to Serenity and moved to be part of the United States Space Force, but was destroyed on assignment after the newly-fitted reactors went on runaway and melted half the ship off.”
“And the J. Harker?” it asked, indicating towards the window, clearly already knowing the answer.
Donahue nodded and motioned out the window, “Refused the new reactors, renamed to Dracula, joined the USSF, made first contact, made first contact negotiations, made first Human-to-alien combat, limped back to our space, received the first official ship-systems AI, became the first ship in the UNITF a year later, and still remains in combat as the oldest space combat ship in our service. As a species.”
The bird looked at the vessel with a new form of respect in its eyes, though whether for the crew or the vessel was unknown. It gave a shallow nod to the vessel before turning back to the man in front of him, “How old is it?”
Donahue had to pause to think for a moment, trying to remember everything he could about his ship.
“Well… the program to make them started nearly seventy years ago, and she was the first ‘production’ model. After decades of systems upgrades and additions, she’s the embodiment of Theseus’s ship, but her original christening would have been… forty-eight years ago.” He muttered, ignoring the confused look on the alien’s head when he mentioned Theseus, “I remember her first launch. I would have been around seven at the time.”
“How… Do you keep something like that running for that long? Especially if it’s a combat device.”
“Same way we keep the grandfather clock and jukebox in the primary lounge running; good care from a good crew.” Donahue nodded, watching as the blue sparks from a plasma cutter lit up a section of hull that was surrounded by CEVAs.
_____
“Watch it! Merde!” The Marine snapped out as Kinsey sprinted past him, intent on quickly making it to the room.
“Sorry! A life is at stake!” she called back, hearing another string of words in French that she didn’t care to translate yelled back at her.
The scientist slid to a halt in front of room 156, trying the door, then knocking on it rapidly. When nobody came to the door, she looked up and down the halls, locking eyes with the Marine, who was still watching her.
While still looking at him, she grabbed a tool out of her belt and started to plug it into a receptacle below the keypad.
“Code is two-five-four-eight.” The Marine called out, shaking his head and just walking away.
“Oh.” was all she could manage, pausing for a second to put the tool away before waving back at the Marine, “Thanks, Frenchie.”
“Je m'appelle Mauvieux…” he mumbled from down the hall, turning down another hall, seemingly to get away from her and the scene of the crime.
She ignored him entirely as she punched in the code and hit the button to open the door. The door had barely slid open entirely before she slipped inside and looked around for the snake.
“Firdaus, don’t! His ribs are-” She started, pausing when she realized that the snake was not doing anything other than sitting curled up in a corner of the room, a book in her hands. She looked surprised when she saw the suited Kinsey enter the room.
A door slid open to the scientist’s right, revealing the ODST she was looking for. Unfortunately, he was covered only by a towel around his waist, was clutching at his floating ribs with one arm, and had a pistol in his other hand, pointed directly at her head. As soon he recognized who he was looking at, he lowered the sidearm and leaned against the doorframe.
“Jesus Christ, Ev. What th’ fuck yeh doin’ in here?” He hissed, letting her take the gun from his hand and put it on a nearby desk, “And who th’ fuck gave you the emergency code to my door?”
“Someone who I forgot the name of.” Kinsey shrugged, stopping the man from bending over to pick up his clothes, which had been unceremoniously dumped onto the floor. She handed them to the ODST, who nodded at her and headed back into the bathroom, leaving the door open and hoping, or simply not caring, that the two women didn’t look into the room while he was dressing.
“Ok then, better question; and one I already asked you: Why the fuck are ya barging in here?” he wheezed out from the bathroom, obviously struggling a bit as he tried to dress himself.
“Making sure the thirty-odd foot long constrictor isn’t doing anything to the poor man with the four broken ribs.” She shrugged, shooting a shit-eating grin back at the snake, who flipped off the woman as she smiled back.
“Hey, don’t worry, I drew a gun on her as well.” Fries chuckled, grunting immediately afterwards. After a moment, he came out of the bathroom far more clothed than previous. He immediately went towards the scientist and gave her a quick, one-armed hug that leaned a fair deal of his weight on her, something that took her off-guard.
“Hey… you alright?” She asked, clearly realizing that something was wrong. She knew how the ODST usually acted, and he wasn’t generally the kind to hug without a stiff drink or three in him, let alone put weight on somebody else.
“Yeah, just… didn’t like what happened out there.” He sighed, pulling his weight off of her and going to lean against a wall.
“Didn’t hear what happened. You mind filling me in?” She muttered, moving to sit in a nearby chair. It creaked in protest to the woman’s suited 6’2” frame sitting down, but didn’t break.
“Thought I was going to die stranded out in the middle of fuck-off=nowhere space.” Fries wheezed, knocking his head on the wall behind him, “Kinda… put into perspective what I was told from day one was still a possibility.”
“Well, now I’m more interested in who told you what from the start.” She chuckled, clearly attempting to lighten the mood.
“Me mum always told me that I’d die alone in space, a billion and a half miles away from home.” He muttered somberly. He thought for a moment before his face twisted into a sad grin, “First time she’d shown concern for me in years.”
“Jesus, man. I’m sorry.” the woman muttered, feeling bad about her previous attempt at humor.
“Seriously; my condolences.” Firdaus piped up, simply sitting in her coils and watching the ODST sadly.
“Ehh… Whatever. That cunt never wanted to have me to begin with.” the man shrugged, grunting slightly as he sat down, “I did her a favor when I joined the forces.”
“That’s… not how you should look at that…” Kinsey muttered, standing up slightly when the man sat down, but sat back down when he waved her down.
“Ehh. Don’t care anymore. She’s six feet under an’ can’t bitch at me anymore.” He stated callously, rolling his eyes.
Kinsey quickly snapped to look at him, an expression of horror and sadness on her face. Firdaus seemed to share the same reaction as her, but was far less expressive in her movements.
“What the hell, dude?! Your mother died?! When! How?!” she exclaimed, getting out of her chair and motioning her arms out.
“Three years ago, MDMA overdose.” he muttered, clearly wanting the subject to change.
“Fuck…” the scientist muttered, picking up on the man’s clear reluctance to continue the conversation, “You could have said something.”
Fries paused for a moment, before simply shaking his head, “Nope.”
Kinsey paused for a heartbeat before nodding and stepping back towards the door, “Well, I’m sorry that there’s no better place to leave this at, but I’m going to head out.”
“Alright. Have a good time doc.” the ODST muttered, looking down at the floor for a moment before looking back up at her and nodding again, “Check in again sometime soon, yeah?”
“Yeah. Can do.” She nodded, opening his door and stepping out.

The blockchain platform Solana, previously celebrated as a rival to Ethereum, is navigating rough seas. Following a peak value of $203 in March 2024, Solana price has undergone a notable downturn, now standing at $139. Market experts caution that a steeper decline may be on the horizon, attributing this to a combination of broader market trends and specific challenges within Solana’s network. What do you think?

I was wondering if anyone else has noticed this or if any pilots have input
I’ve noticed different airlines talk about turbulence differently/handle talking about it differently In January I was on an American flight and we had mild turbulence for a couple hours straight. Nothing crazy but noticeable enough where I felt like I couldn’t quite get comfortable. The seatbelt sign was off during this whole period - even with turbulence. The pilots never even addressed this turbulence.
Friday I flew with southwest and 30 min into the flight the pilot came on and verbatim said “unfortunately we have some REALLY bumpy air coming up” I was surprised he said “really bumpy” because I figured that might scare people (it scared me) and so I was super anxious. The turbulence we experienced was very normal …. Nothing scary. But the fact that he described it as very bumpy probably made more than just me worried
Today I flew with United and the pilot said it’s going to be a smooth flight. Upon descent we hit a decent amount of turbulence … enough to get the heart rate going and ppl looked uncomfortable. Worse turbulence than the two flights mentioned above.
Has anyone else noticed this?! I wonder if the verbiage truly just varies from pilot to pilot or if it’s an airline thing …

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I have a flight the first week of September from NYC to London. I hope to be pregnant before then. Can severe turbulence cause a miscarriage? I had a miscarriage in February. I’m already afraid of flying and this adds another layer. I don’t want to necessarily wait to try to get pregnant and this flight is for my high school best friend’s wedding that I’m a bridesmaid in. She means so much to me; I have a small circle of very close friends. What do you think? Is anyone a medical professional who knows the answer to this?

NOTE FROM AUTHOR: Hello Hello! I am a first-time writer embarking on my first dumpster fire; input is most welcome. I'm not the best self-editor, so get your hiking boots on. It's rough out there. Whenever I read it, I find or create more errors (:
OPTIONAL READS: For the Retro Computer or Programming Enthusiast OR if you are open to other formats of story telling. I tried to combine my love for programming as an UNDERSTANDABLE way to tell a story through a Visual Experience in the Command Line Interface;
A Stand-Alone VISUAL ASCII 'Programming Terminal' Story Prologue. Follow through(Screen Shots of my Command Line Interface) the UNE-EYE Observational Satellite Terminal as Kable extracts Classified Data about his Beloved Military Unit, THE HUMMINGBIRDS, a flying exoskeleton unit. This includes the origin story of a Technology Tree in Book 1.

####

INDEX

1. DEADCOAST - THE HUMMINGBIRDS PROLOGUE -> HERE <-
   
2. DEADCOAST - COMPLETE ILLUSTRATED INTRO -> HERE <-
   
3. HEAT & GRIZZLY REDS - CHAPTER 1 ILLUSTRATED -> HERE <-
   

"Deadcoast Book 1: Heat and the Grizzly Reds" transports readers to a 2063 Earth, a world on the brink, where the scarcity of fresh water has led to previously unseen geopolitical tensions. Amidst this backdrop, the nation-backed militant group DAGGR has emerged as a formidable force, leveraging advanced technology to assert control over Canada’s abundant water resources. At the heart of their arsenal is 'slugTech,' a technology pioneered by James Broadshaw, intended for ecological restoration but repurposed for militaristic dominance.
The story unfolds with the chilling invasion of Vancouver, marking a turning point as DAGGR makes its ambitions clear, culminating in the assassination of the Canadian Prime Minister. This act of aggression leaves the country reeling, exposing vulnerabilities and igniting a global reaction.
The UNE-EYE satellite is central to the international response, a significant narrative element representing the world's most advanced orbital tracking system. Once decommissioned in favour of privacy, the Dutch reactivated the satellite as a strategic move to monitor DAGGR's movements and coordinate a unified international effort against the aggressors. This revival of UNE-EYE symbolizes a crucial turning point, highlighting the global stakes and the interconnectedness of nations in the face of a common enemy.
As Canada grapples with its plight, the DAMU (Deserted American Military Units) rise in solidarity, breaching borders to fight alongside their Canadian counterparts. This act of defiance is mirrored by international forces, including the Netherlands and Ukraine, each bringing their unique strengths to the coalition, underscored by the strategic oversight provided by the UNE-EYE satellite.
Amidst the geopolitical chaos, a man who had all but given up, a boxer on the ropes, emerges from Vancouver's Gastown. Known as HEAT, this leader of the Grizzly Reds becomes a symbol of resistance and hope. HEAT's story, and that of the Grizzly Reds, is one of resilience, rallying not only Canadians but also global citizens to stand against DAGGR's tyranny.
" Deadcoast Book 1: Heat and the Grizzly Reds" is a compelling narrative of survival, alliance, and resistance. It deftly weaves together elements of advanced technology, international politics, and the indomitable human spirit. The inclusion of the UNE-EYE satellite serves as a testament to the complexities of modern warfare and the critical role of global surveillance and coordination in maintaining security and freedom. But something else stirs amongst it. The UNE still shrouds its use, albeit assuring it is for record-keeping purposes- there is no way to be sure. Join HEAT and the Grizzly Reds as they navigate the challenges of Time, War, Science and liberating their fellow man in Vancouver. THE GRIZZLIES NEED YOU, in this action-packed, emotional saga, speaks to the resilience and camaraderie inherent in the human condition.
CHAPTER 1 - The Blood Spattered Maples
ILLUSTRATED VERSION -> HERE <-
The early morning sun cast a serene glow over Vancouver, its golden rays gently coaxing the city from its slumber. The harbour lay still, bathed in a tranquil blend of crimson and amber, defiantly calm as if aware of the day's latent potential for tumult. The awakening streets, pulsating with the vibrant beat of daily enterprise, transformed into bustling arteries of life.
Amidst this urban renaissance, Ryan stood by his apartment window, one eye still tinged a fading shade of deep lavender from last night's ordeals. He absorbed the duality of the world outside – a peaceful façade masking an undercurrent of chaos, much like his own existence. The apartment, a silent guardian of his life's chapters, was awash with tangible memories; some stood proudly like trophies, and others lingered like indelible scars.
"Eugh, need to sort out this money mess," Ryan muttered, his voice a gravelly mix of resolve and weariness. He gingerly touched the bruise beneath his eye, a stark reminder of the previous night's fight. He wasn't just a boxer but a living, breathing paradox. His undefeated record of 12-0 was more than a tally of victories; it was a map of a life spent dancing in and out of shadows. At 17, he was a beacon of hope for Canadian Olympic Futures. Now, at 33, he was a spotlight in his subconscious, illuminating the relentless passage of time and a road riddled with 'what ifs.' Eleven of those wins were echoes from a past steeped in the sweat and blood of the ring before life's currents swept him into the city's gritty underbelly. There, he became an enforcer, not out of choice but a necessity, bound by ties, not of blood but of unbreakable bonds forged in adversity. Stepping back into the ring at 33, Ryan wasn't chasing glory; he was hunting redemption, a chance to rewrite a narrative that had veered off course.
Today's boxing was far from what he once knew; it had transformed into a digital spectacle, a charade he refused to partake in. The sport now paraded fighters adorned with loud chains and face tattoos, pretending to live a life of crime they don't. Vile symbols of fame he doesn't wish for. Ryan had always skirted the fringes of the spotlight, respecting the sport but despising what it had become - a glorified masquerade that he believed led the youth astray. He stared out at the awakening city, contemplating his place in this ever-changing world, just as the first notes of a familiar yet unwelcome voice crackled from the vintage radio on his shelf.
"Ah, jimmy2piece," he scoffed, the name leaving a bitter taste. The vintage radio crackled on, announcing the dazzling exploits of the heavyweight boxing champion, an embodiment of everything Ryan detested about the sport's current state. Ryan's hand lingered over the old radio, a relic amidst the bountiful thrift and trinket that abundantly filled his apartment. The announcer's voice, overly flamboyant in its praise of 'jimmy2piece,' clashed with the morning's tranquillity, grating against Ryan's every nerve. With a flick brimming with contempt, he silenced the intrusive chatter. The ensuing silence was a stark reminder of his path's divergence from the once-noble art of boxing to a life mired in moral ambiguity.
"Enough of this nonsense," he muttered, the disdain in his voice mirroring the snarl on his lips as he spun the dial back to silence.
*Click*
Ryan was a man of contemplation; opening his balcony door, he let the morning breeze mingle with the memories that haunted him daily. These reflections were a tormenting ritual, no matter the joys and love surrounding him. His only respite was constant movement – hobbies, work, art – anything to fend off the sharp claws of the past that threatened to shred the remnants of his self-respect. He had lost ten years to choices and actions that replayed in his mind relentlessly every single day.
"This 'jimmy2shoes' or whatever...pal throws pillows, a poser pretending he's about that gang life; I can see it in his eyes, he's not a killer," he grumbled, gazing out at the awakening city. This day promised a respite from his underground fights – at least for a while. His recent backstreet brawls, a far cry from the glory of the boxing ring, were what paid the bills now. "At least I've bought myself three more months..."
Leaning on the railing of his miniature balcony, Ryan cradled a cup of steaming coffee, his gaze drifting over the streets below. At this moment, the chaos of his life seemed distant, replaced by a transient calm. Despite his bruised, rough presentation, a certain peace enveloped him, a rare stillness that belied the storm of his existence. His thoughts meandered through the serene hum of the city and the gentle brush of the ocean breeze. The skyscape, with clouds dancing to the ocean's rhythm, offered a brief escape from his turbulent past.
Memories of Robin, his mentor and friend, floated into his consciousness. Robin's untimely death in Dubai was a wound that never healed. The sacrifices he had made to keep Robin safe, only to be absent on the fateful trip that claimed his friend's life, weighed heavily on him. "Why did it have to be you, Robin?" he whispered to the horizon, the question, a haunting torment upon his daily routines.
Ryan was a thinker; as he slid over his ashtray from the stool, he sparked up A morning 'dart' (cigarette), as he called them. His past began to creep into his head, as it did every morning. With each inhalation of addiction-soothing nicotine, his blazing thoughts followed as his brain began to become fully active from his sleep. It was a raven on his shoulder tormenting him, pecking at him ever haunting his consciousness. No matter the love he may have found or the happiness, friends, or family surrounding him. The time to reflect was always grim and consistently unbearable. If he stood still, the Ravel's claws sunk more profoundly; the only reprieve was constant distractions. It's why he kept so busy, creative, and active. Ryan constantly kept moving with hobbies, work, or art. Pushing off the switchblade thoughts ready to cut into his subconscious and bleed out whatever self-respect he had left that day. He threw away ten years of his life, and he relives them every. Single. Day.
"Damn man, what's the point of it all?" Ryan's voice was barely a whisper, lost in the morning breeze. His gaze lingered on the horizon, eyes clouded with confusion and pain. "Robin's gone, and here I am, a ship adrift; up shits creek without a paddle. What good can I do? What purpose do I serve? My skillset? My knowledge? Ive wasted my life, nothing is applicable." The questions hung in the air, unanswered. Ryan's life had indeed been a storm of violence and turmoil, from the gritty days working alongside Robin, watching his back to his hard-fought victories in the boxing ring. He had dreamt of leaving the world of fights behind, yet fate seemed to have woven a different path for him, one that he couldn't escape...
The distant sound of boat horns broke his train of thought. These weren't the usual rhythmic calls that echoed along Vancouver's shores; they carried a sense of urgency, growing louder and more frantic by the second. Ryan leaned forward, squinting into the morning light. The sight that greeted him was anything but ordinary. Dark, ominous and foreboding shapes were cutting through the waters toward the Seawall – military-grade ships that seemed like phantoms against the sun's bright backdrop.
"What the...?" Ryan murmured, a wry smile touching his lips as he recalled a line from a 1930s radio show. "Ah yes, the 'Anti-Frackers' upping their game, bravo!" He often found solace in humour, a shield against the world's harsh realities. Ryan was an unbreakable anvil to the world, always struck to sharpen others' steel. But what about his iron resolve? He bore the burdens so others didn't have to, a silent guardian shouldering the world's weight in stoic silence. Yet beneath that armour of stoicism beat the heart of a man grappling with his vulnerabilities, a man with a core as soft as it was intense.
Just like that- The world as we knew it, changed forever.
The morning's peace shattered abruptly as sirens wailed into life, slicing through the air with a sense of impending doom. The tranquil dawn was now a backdrop to a nightmare unfolding in real time. Ryan's eyes, mirroring the turbulent hues of a stormy sea, narrowed in primal alertness. These were not friendly vessels coming to grace the city's harbour; they were harbingers of chaos, their arrival a silent scream in the gardens of Vancouver's tranquility. As the city around him carried on, blissfully unaware of the looming threat, Ryan's mind shifted into high gear, honed by years of confrontation, conflict and reading other peoples intentions. He understood the unspoken language of death, the subtle shift in the air that preluded catastrophe. The serene calm that had greeted the day now seemed like the deceptive stillness before a devastating storm.
PFFFFT~~
Ryan's coffee ejected out his mouth, a clean mist dispersed, dancing in the ocean winds.
His eyes widened in shock. "That... No, that's not right. That honeycomb structure on the bow – that's rumoured military tech, not something you'd find on a civilian vessel. That's definitely not one of our decommissioned ships; Canada has always had a modest military budget- It's not the U.S. either; they've moved on to those massive city carriers," he muttered, recalling the recent unveiling of the U.S.'s latest naval behemoth designed to be a self-sustaining war ecosystem.
"These are destroyers...carriers...and what in the world are those landing crafts?" His voice trailed off as a wave of realization washed over him. A heavy breath escaped his lips, his heartbeat thundering in unison with a growing sense of dread. This kind of military might, sleek and menacing, was straight out of the pages of a dystopian novel. Ryan's pulse quickened, adrenaline coursing through his veins, mingling with an unsettling fear. Vancouver, with its serene beauty and peaceful reputation, was the last place one would expect a military invasion. Yet, as he stood there, the city around him persevered in blissful ignorance. Laughter and the sounds of daily life echoed up to his balcony, starkly juxtaposed against the darkening horizon of his thoughts.
Something sinister was unfolding, and he felt an urgent need to act. "Ah, damn it!" he exclaimed, frustration boiling over as he hurled his mug to the ground, where it shattered into razer sharp ceramic shards—a glimpse of futures past.
The walls of Ryan's apartment, once a gallery of memories from a life half-lived, now felt like they were closing in on him. The space that had been his refuge, adorned with mementos of a tumultuous past, suddenly felt like a prison. He felt trapped, not by physical barriers, but by the weight of the unfolding crisis. Who could he call? Who would believe him about an impending military assault? Was there even time?
Each option seemed as hopeless as the next, leaving him feeling powerless. His fists, which had once brought him victory in the ring, now seemed futile in the face of this immense and unknown threat.
BOOM
A thunderous crash tore through the city's fabric, piercing the veil of laughter and routine. Giggles changed to Shrieks, the buzzing of cars in the city turned screeching of panicked tires. It was a boom resonating with such force that it seemed to shake the very resolve of the most robust steel, a sound that demands attention and captivates a person, a sound of death; it rattles you to the bone. This explosion marked a pivotal moment that would forever alter the course of Vancouver's history and, indeed, the world's.
The resounding echo of the first explosion heralded a declaration of war on all that was ordinary. In Ryan, the shockwave ignited a transformation. Despair morphed into an unyielding determination, a fire kindled deep within. His skin prickled, each hair standing on end as if his nerves were braille, spelling out the moment's urgency.
"Are they firing at us?" Ryan's voice was a mix of disbelief and rising panic. The thought seemed almost too surreal to entertain. He hesitated momentarily, grappling with the reality of the situation. The explosion's roar, so fierce it shook the foundations of his apartment, jolted him back to the present. Racing back to his balcony, what he saw confirmed his darkest fears.
The ships in the harbour were no longer silent, ominous spectators; they had unleashed their fury, sending plumes of smoke and debris skyward. Vancouver's skyline, once a proud testament to peace and progress, now served as a harrowing backdrop to an unfolding apocalypse. Below, the streets descended into chaos. People scattered in a frantic attempt to escape, their screams piercing the air, a chorus of dawning terror.
Ryan's heart pounded against his chest, each beat a call to action. He was no hero, never the 'good guy' in his story, but he did value life above all. Standing there, witnessing his city being torn apart, he knew he couldn't remain a passive observer. Indecision and shock gave way to resolve.
"MOTHA FU-" he cursed, his words lost in the burst of an explosion, spotted at the last second.
The world around him had erupted into a maelstrom of fire and fury.
An air burst shell detonated with ferocious intensity a mere 50 meters from Ryan's sanctuary. The explosion ripped through the building, an unforgiving hatred that jolted reality itself. The blast wave, a monstrous force of destruction, assaulted his apartment, shattering the windows with an ease that mocked Vancouver's fragility. Glass shards, transformed into lethal projectiles, hurtled through the air with a hunter's precision, each piece seeking its target. Instinctively, Ryan lunged for cover, his only protection a vintage oak promotional board, a relic of a bygone era. This wooden guardian, decorated with the iconic image of Stan Lee, stood as a stoic defender, a symbol of comic heroism now repurposed to shield flesh and blood from the brutal onslaught.
A low hum erupts from the depths of his being as the fireball swirled around him. "Breathe... I can't... don't fall asleep... don't...sleep..." he whispered, fighting the encroaching darkness. His cobalt eyes, glazing over open, fighting to the last light, flickered between consciousness and oblivion. The distant, muffled voices of mentors past echoed in his mind, a fading chorus in the theatre of his memories. Ryan looked to his left, cast one last lingering look at the Vancouver sky, a canvas of blue that seemed so distant now. As his vision began to narrow, a tunnel drawing him away from the light, Ryan felt the grip of darkness pulling him under heavy, yet weightless. Once so vivid and alive, the world around him was fading into shadows.
Amid shrapnel-induced unconsciousness, Ryan's mind catapulted him back to a pivotal moment from his youth – the Ontario Canadian Olympic Trials.
The stadium's noise swirled around him, but it was an entirely different world within the ring. There, it was just Ryan and his opponent, every move a testament to the sacrifices he and Robin(Ryan's longtime mentor both inside, and outside the ring) had made together.
Ryan's style in the ring was unique, a blend of calculated ferocity in speed and agility. He adopted the elusive, angular movements that Robin had honed while serving alongside the hardened Ukrainians on the frontlines of Kyiv. This style was compelling and unpredictable, frustrating his opponents with swift and efficient strikes. Ryan's ability to slip away from counters, almost serpentine in its execution, left them grasping at straws.
Point fighting for the Olympics was a system that worked well with Ryan's style but not necessarily with his mindset. Ryan was a fighter at heart, and sometimes, when pushed, the disciplined techniques would give way to a rawer form of combat. Robin, who always believed in Ryan's potential, saw this as his greatest fault and biggest asset to "push past." In his gruff but encouraging voice, Robin would often spew "The stink in that mind, You've got a head on you that'd make an onion cry," highlighting Ryan's occasionally impulsive nature, and inability to control his emotions when it mattered. This characteristic made Ryan fearless in the ring but also sloppy, open, and vulnerable. It often led him into trouble outside of the solace in prizefighting.
In these trials, Ryan's physical attributes – his slender frame, broad shoulders, wide back and a peculiarly long wingspan that gave him an imposing presence in his weight class – it made him stand out. His frame synchronized with his style, creating a truly unique spectacle of genetic gifts, hard work, and skill.
These memories blended nostalgia and pain as they flickered through Ryan's mind. They were reminders of a path once trodden, a journey shaped by the influence of a mentor and the determination of a fighter's spirit.
As the Olympic Trials set to begin, Robin looked to Ryan to instill confidence for his upcoming bouts, but Ryan was in his element. It was fight day, the fun day, the day to show off all of the hard work. Ryan had confidence, and his style in the ring displayed it in full. He moved with an angular rhythm that was both art and battle – slipping, landing a quick stiff counter cross, then gracefully stepping out of reach inches from returning fire. He made it look fun and easy, as if playing with his prey before fangs clench throat, delivering the killing bite. Looking closer, you can only see fire and determination in his bright eyes. He found purpose in the beautiful science of boxing. His strategy was that of a technical boxer, The Counterpuncher; 1. To bait his opponent into committing, then counter, fight long, fight smart. 2. Beat em' up, Frustrate em', then start slinging the heat in the uppercuts and lead hooks.
The bell rang and the fight was officially underway. Ryan controlled the ring with his long frame. Each exchange was rapid yet controlled, a dance of precise strikes and evasive maneuvers. The world's complexities faded in these moments, leaving only Ryan and the pure essence of the sport he loved. He felt invincible, a force of nature within the confines of the ring. To Ryan, the fight was more than a competition; it was a performance, an exhilarating escape from the mundane. It was true Purpose.
The intensity of the round reached a frustrating outburst by his opponent, who grabbed Ryan by the back of his head– 'SPLIT' called by the referee, his hand placed between them. A judge calls for a correction, catching the referee's attention only for a split second. In this second, Ryan's Opponent saw an opportunity. Lifting his head to move away, Ryan locks eyes with his Opponent, sporting a grin and delivering a sly headbutt as a parting gift. It's against the rules, but part of the game's harsh reality if gone unnoticed. Expelling energy and detesting it was a waste of fuel. It was a jolting reminder of "at all times"(protect yourself), a stark contrast to the discipline and respect Ryan upheld, starting his boxing journey in Thailand under "Muay Thai" rules, ideology of the worrior spirit and discipline. There was a sense of Honor in Lumpinee Stadium.
The outcome of these unsavoury tactics here is an advantage for the opponent. Ryan's inner pools erupt, his mind swirled with raging white waters, crashing and colliding against each other, two oceans with opposite currents meeting in his consciousness. His once technical thoughts, muscle memory mixed with fight iq burst with flames, erupting and incinerating all strategy in his path. His eyes widened, open like he'd found his primal genetic ancestry hidden deep within. The slaughter and the war of history. The bloodshed of 1000 lifetimes. He felt it all. Manic in thought. Ryan wanted to take his glove off and rip his cheeks open from the inside out--
BREAK - Ryan snaps back into it, erupting in stoic, silent, primal rage.

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The fight escalated, Ryan's disciplined technique unravelled under the seething tide of his rage. The finesse and agility that once defined his footwork gave way to a heavier, more aggressive stance. His feet, usually light and swift under his commanding frame, now felt anchored to the floor, each step driven more by fury than finesse. This transformation in style played perilously into his opponent's advantage. Ryan, usually a master of stick-and-move tactics, found himself engaging in close-quarter brawls, trading his advantage for a risky gamble. His in-and-out maneuvers, once a blur of grace, turned into brutish, in-the-pocket exchanges. This was a terrain where his more muscular and compact opponent had the upper hand. A raw, primal contest of power replaced the tactical dance that Ryan excelled at. Ryan's precise strikes became wild swings, his movements predictable to his seasoned adversary. Seizing the moment, the opponent unleashed a devastating barrage of inside hooks with their compact frame. A vicious right hook, lands clean in the exchange, thrown with the grace of a milkbag, the power hooks brute force, cut through Ryan's defences. The blow landed with a bone-jarring impact, sending a shockwave through Ryan's frame. His world spun as he stumbled, his once dominant presence in the ring now faltering under the weight of his unchecked emotions.
The ground rushed up to meet him as he crashed onto the canvas, the taste of iron and the sting of defeat mingling in his mouth. The crowd's roar faded into a distant echo, a stark reminder of how quickly the tides of battle could turn. Robin's voice sliced through the ringing from the corner, resonating with a force that commanded attention.
"Get your shit together, JUMPIN JESUS RYAN! HEART OF GOLD AND HEAD OF STONE – GET UP, YOU LITTLE COWARD! YOU'RE LETTING IT WIN, AGAIN! STOP THIS ONION HEAD NONSENSE AND DANCE, BOX THIS FELLA – YOU'RE BETTER THAN THIS, ACT LIKE IT, BELIEVE IN IT!"
His words were more than just a call to action; they were a lifeline thrown into the stormy seas of Ryan's mind. Each syllable was drenched in the raw, unfiltered wisdom that only a life spent in the cauldron of combat could forge. Robin's tone was a volatile cocktail of fury and concern, the urgency palpable in his voice. His palms crashed against the ring mat; each hit thunderous punctuation to his fiery sermon.
"You've got the talent, kid, but it's as good as ash if you keep burning it to the ground. I'M HERE FOR YOU, IM RIGHT HERE. SNAP OUT OF IT AND BOX THIS PLASTIC PATTY! MOVE GOD DAMNIT, GET UP!"
On the canvas, Ryan lay dazed, the echo of Robin's voice ringing in his ears. It was more than a mere pep talk; it was a wake-up call that struck a chord deep within him. Amidst the haze of the crowd murmurs and the pulsating pain that coursed through his body, clarity began to emerge. Lying there, Ryan grasped the essence of Robin's message –
"coward? letting it win? Playing my ego are ya Robin...hes right though. Im throwing this shit away."
This moment, sprawled on the canvas under the glaring lights and the crowd's gaze, became a crucible of transformation. The raw emotion and the hard-hitting truth in Robin's words ignited a spark in Ryan. It was time to rise, shake off the shadows of rage, and embrace a fighter's true spirit like he had learned in Thailand – not just with fists but with heart and mind in unison.
Staggered yet stirred by the dual impact of the physical hit and Robin's piercing words, A padded fist crushed into the rings canvas, followed by a kneee and the eruption of the crowd. Ryan was back, and he began to pull himself up from the canvas. His resolve, momentarily dimmed, now reignited with a fierce, clear, calculated intensity. Memories of the gruelling hours spent in the gym flooded back to him – the relentless sparring sessions, the time spent in Thailand, the sweat and toil, and the invaluable lessons etched into his being under Robin's stern tutelage.
With a renewed spirit, Ryan stepped back into the battle, his movements now embodying controlled power and a fluidity to his step. He recalled his time fighting beside the backdrop of the "Sarama" a traditional Thai music played when in combat. The times of learning to move, fight with the music, to flow, to be fluid, to be concise. Ryan finally put it all together in the heat of battle. He had merged his inherent ferocity with the disciplined technique that Robin relentlessly drilled into him, and the mindfull practises of the years he spent under Burklerk Pinsinchai in the jungles of Chiang Mai. His style was now fully displayed, raw and visceral yet refined by countless hours of practice in mind, body and spirit.
The final rounds bell clang to a start in a clinic of skill and sheer willpower. Ryan, driven by a blend of desperation and unwavering determination, unleashed a barrage of calculated and explosive strikes. Each punch and maneuver was a nod to the efficient, no-nonsense Ukrainian style that Robin had imparted to him. Ryan moved rhythmically across the mat, steps measured and precise, executing short, angular movements and deft outside counterpunches. He had returned to his element – the dance of combat, where he felt most alive, a symphony of movement where every step and punch was a testament to his life's journey and experiences as a human being first, and as a fighter second.
In this wake-up call, Ryan reinvigorated and reminded himself of his love for the sport, the exhilarating blend of art and athleticism. He was not just fighting to win; he was celebrating boxing, combat, honouring the path he had walked with Robin, and reclaiming what it meant to be a true fighter through Burklurk Pinsinchai's Teachings.
The round pressed on, and Ryan executed his maneuvers with a surgeon's precision. First;
-- The counterpuncher; a display in timing and accuracy, delivered with the full force of training and innate skill. --

1. He deftly slipped his opponent's cross, a move as fluid as it was swift.
   
2. He angled off, creating a space wide enough for his next move.
   
3. With an almost predatory precision, Ryan unleashed a powerful right cross, targeting his opponent's cheek from the angle he had just created. But Ryan wasn't done yet.
   
4. He slipped out again, evading any potential counter from his disoriented opponent. The rhythm, he danced in and out with his precise timing, perfected down to inches and angles.
   
5. In a final, decisive movement of the exchange, Ryan slipped in. He timed his step with a long cross that came off-beat, catching his opponent utterly off-guard. The punch landed with a satisfying impact, culminating in a perfectly executed combination. As he watched his opponent stagger, Ryan couldn't help but think, 'cya sleepy boi,' a silent acknowledgment of his dominance in this singular exchange.
   

This sequence was a statement. Ryan was not only back in the fight but also commanding it.
ONE!…TWO!…THREE!…FOUR!…FIVE!…SIX!...SEVEN!..EIGHT!
Ryan's opponent stands, admirable, but futile, driven by sheer will but hampered by sluggish movements, the man rose to his feet, it was clear the fight was reaching its zenith.
The opponent, gathering his remaining strength for a final stand, launched a jab, a last-ditch effort relying more on brute force than finesse. But this was a fatal mistake in Ryan's world – playing right into what Ryan was best at. Counters.
Ryan read the move with the clarity of a seasoned fighter. As the jab came, he effortlessly slipped to the right, evading the punch with a short angular step that spoke of his ring intelligence. Instantly, he countered with the same sharp cross from his right hand, followed by a devastating hook that cut through the air with lethal intent in his left. Grasping at straws, reeling from the counter, Ryans opponent threw a desperate, looping last stand punch, Ryan dipped down and left, rolling the punch with an elegance that made it seem almost effortless. He was Hunting for the Kill Shot. Seizing the moment, Ryan unleashed a ferocious left uppercut, the force of the blow lifting his opponent's chin skyward. He followed up with a right overhand, but just before impact, he halted the punch. There was no need for it; his opponent was already collapsing, the "Lights were on, but no one was Home". The fight was effectively over, Ryan's last combination is the final note, a crescendo that echoed through the ring.
As his opponent hit the canvas, the crowd erupted. Ryan stood in the center of the ring, his chest heaving, every fibre of his being alight with the thrill of victory. This wasn't just a win; it was a performance, a display of skill, heart, and the indomitable spirit of a fighter who had walked through fire and flames to the otherside and emerge victorious.
The final bell Rings with not a single chair in the arena warm; a thunderous clap erupts from the crowd. It was more than just applause; it was an acknowledgment of a battle fiercely fought by both men. In that moment ringside, in a triumphant victory, Ryan and Robin shared a look that spoke volumes, a connection far beyond the usual bounds of mentor and protégé. Their bond, tempered in the crucible of hardship and struggle, was now sealed in the glory of this defining triumph.
Standing amidst the cheers and the adrenaline-fueled euphoria, Ryan found himself momentarily lost in the tide of memories. It was a poignant reminder of the journey that had brought him here, a path marked by triumphs and losses. Robin's teachings transcended the confines of boxing; they were life lessons imprinted deep onto him. Ryan began to slowly step out of the ring; the weight of these reflections settled upon him. The victory was sweet, but it carried the weight of all sacrificed to achieve it. Robin's presence was felt strongly, a guiding force that continued to shape his path, illuminating the way forward even in the most challenging times.

Sorry in advance…. This is kind of long 😬
I’ve been having a series of odd dreams- none are “reoccurring” but I know that the locations are? The dreams always take place on a shoreline. There’s always a boardwalk or pathway between the beach and the other side (which is always blurry or out of focus but I know it’s buildings and things). The beach and the water are always far below the boardwalk- usually a steep cliff and once I’m on the beach, there’s no way up. That’s where I remain for the rest of the dream. The beach itself is ALWAYS a narrow strip of sand with heavy, massive shore break. I don’t always find myself in the water, but when I do, it’s rough, turbulent, and dark and angry on top- but underneath it’s clear and calm(more like a lake).
This most recent dream, I was on a surfboard, paddling around and somehow affiliated with some kind of group or committee made up of random people from my past (the few I’m sure of their identities I was never close with and ranged from high school acquaintances to people I worked with indirectly at old jobs). In this dream, this committee/ group changed its leader and the new leader had called a gathering (took place in my childhood home that was on this beach somehow). Previous “years” discussions with this committee would be pleasant and everyone was able to say their piece and discuss openly and equally, but this gathering the new leader picked favorites and silenced everyone who wasn’t in that category, but did it in very two faced way? Like “I’m so nice and understanding, you can trust me, I’ve got you” and then turn around and make something up to alienate you from everyone else. There were 4 or 5 ‘non-favorites’ out of maybe 15 +/- people and I was the loudest and most vocal about the ridiculousness going on. It got me kicked from the meeting, ostracized from the others, and I found myself back on the beach. This time the strip of sand was completely submerged and the waves were massive. There was no way for me to climb up to the higher ground, so I waded further out and willingly submerged myself with each wave. Underneath the water, it was crystal clear. This calmed me, helped me think. I felt safe and at ease. I could see all these piles of shells and rocks and other things each time I’d go under. I’d dig through the sea treasures every time I’d go under and keep finding shark teeth, various bones, and what I knew to be very old fossils. Each find felt like I’d hit the jackpot. I made a collection of them and brought them to the committee to share and it turned out the new head called the old one and had made up false scenarios about me. The old leader believed them- as I tried to plead my case and show that what was said was NOT true, I began to feel VERY hopeless and betrayed- The old leader was always just and fair. My argument was something like “we’ve had this group for years and I’ve never done anything like (accusation) in all the time you’ve known me/ headed the group “. Their response to this was basically: “I know, you’re right. That doesn’t sound like something you’d do but ¯_(ツ)_/¯. I can’t just tell the new leader that”.
I then went back to the cliff face frustrated and hopeless- tried to figure out how to get away from them all/ climb up and then I woke up.
I’m honestly not sure what half of this could possibly mean, so if you’ve made it this far(thank you!)- maybe you might have some insight?
-have dreamt of the general shore location MANY times, but different sections of it - have dreamt of finding predator teeth, bones, skulls multiple times now (all under water that’s dark and rough on the surface, but calm and clear below) - this shoreline dream is the first incident where there have been multiple acquaintances from my past -also the first time my childhood home has been part of the shoreline dreams -most of the shoreline dreams I can easily remember for long periods of time - they’re mostly lucid, I can control most aspects, but not all

This is a long story so grab some popcorn lol
We met in college instantly fell in love and wanted to be together, after about a year she went to Sydney to help her psychotic father and I went to Melbourne to help a friend look after her daighter and run a little motel on the mornington penninsula. We had a falling out because I was really excited to talk to her but she claimed I was just talking about myself which, well I was but just excited to talk to her, she got upset with me then wanted to break up, that was the first breakup....
We ended up talking again after we came back home, the connection was always really strong, and we were together for a bit. We went to a friends place for a little gathering and there were these guys that were trying to seperate us, being drunk i was just having a good time dancing and thinking i could fully trust my partner, when it came to sleep, I was sortof shuffled into the bedroom, i laid down for a second before I was like where is my partner? I walk out and see my partner locking lips with our other friend. That was the second breakup... I was sooo deeply hurt because i was really in love with her, I felt ultimately betrayed. I left and the next day she rocked up at my work begging me to forgive her. I dont know why I did but I forgave her and we were together again. So we end up being together for a bit because I was just so infatuated with her, we end up having a falling out because It was hard to trust her, I was trying but we ended up breaking up again after about 6 months. I ended up going out one night to the LGBT bar and met someone, became in love with their sister and ended up being with them on and off for 6 years. It was turbulent pretty much the whole time with both exes, I still kept in contact with the college ex because it was on and off with the ex at the time, lets call the college ex Poo and the other ex Tubs just to make it easier lol So I was on a off period with Tubs and I kept wanting to spend time with Poo, we ended up going to this dudes house and just hanging out, we werent really together at the time but she knew how much I wanted her, I went to the toilet and I walk out to find there was nowhere around cause I swear I just saw them, i hear a noise out into the laundry area and shes on top of the washing machine getting plowed by this guy shes virtually just met, I burst through the door considering they were trying to hold the door from me getting in. I lost my shit but I did actually try to get her to leave the guy because it was kindof abusive, she was still technically my friend and she is a lesbian so it was pretty fucked to see, plus I never stopped having feelings for her so it was hard. She was with this piece of shit guy for 2 years.
So after a little while of trying to get my life back together, Tubs messages me again we go back together. About 6 years in Tubs cheated on me with our friend at the time but I still lived with her for another 2 years after that. Believe me when I tell you it was a struggle. I walked into the other room in our rental and she was just on top of him, I just turned around and walked away. I was in a dark depression for a while. Because I continued to live with her After a while of not hearing from Poo i get a message from her wondering what ive been doing. We started messaging back and forth, then started hanging out, Idk why my ex that I was with for 6 years was upset we were hanging out we were living in the same house but after she cheated that was it, she knew how much I loved my ex from college plus i didnt want to live with Tubs because she was not only physically abusive but emotionally as well. So I left and Poo starts hanging out at the place im at, a share house with a tiny room. I was also doing a diploma of interactive gaming and digital media at the time, but i was the one making her food and paying for the Rent/Utilities on a study payment. it was doing my head in because she would just complain about everything. I could see where it was going so I threw her bag out and told her to leave, it was hard but I was struggling and she wasnt caring about my situation enough. it was a struggle back and forth because I just felt so hurt after everything that happened with Tubs. I ended up really trying with Poo, we ended up moving in with her family for a bit, then we went and stayed with my family and my family were a bit of a nightmare. We had alot of arguments, some good moments but we needed to get out so we found a place, it was beautiful, right by the beach. It was a great place, we were starting to thrive, it was the first time in a long time I felt really safe and secure so I proposed to her after being together for about 3 years and knowing each other for even longer, and she said yes. I was the happiest for a little bit. We ended up having her brother stay with us rent free because he had no where to go apparently, and tried very hard to break us up, which imo he succeeded at. He used to say the most awful things, I should have told him to leave week 1 but I was trying to do the right thing by my partner he was family so i just had to deal, but Poo was just soo angry all the time, one of arguments ended up with her punching the wall and put a hole in it, I was angry too I actually kicked our tomato plant and destroyed it after she punch the wall :/I cried instantly because the poor plant didnt deserve it :/ i felt so bad.. Anyway Covid hit and Poo went into panic mode. We ended up buying a caravan and going down to my parents farm to live, there wasnt anything down there, no power, no water nadda. She couldnt handle it, everyday was a struggle,my parents were getting increasingly annoyed and we tried finding a place to move into but it got overwealming, she asked me if I was her Soul Mate and I said I didnt know, she took that as a no and left before I woke up the next day. It was probably the biggest regret, it was in the heat of an argument and I dont know why I said I didnt know because I did know after all that time of waiting for her of course, i thought my actions would have said that I was dedicated to her... My heart shattered. She left me with the 2 cats and a severely broken heart. I felt like I was going to die and for a time I wasnt opposed to the idea. My parents moved out like a couple of weeks later which was even more heartbreaking, I was there by myself with no car and barely any food. Was a crazy fun time :/
I ended up moving to a friends place after my father got incredibly abusive and physically attacked me, hes been through alot, had cancer almost died, had his family betray him constantly he was a bit broken for a while but we have repaired our family a bit since then, but im still very very cautious around them. i changed my life completely, I started getting back into music, I joined a band as the Drummer we are becoming more successful, I made 2 albums and im currently working on a personal special album with all my skills ive learnt over the years into one. So Poo decides she wants to keep talking to me, because my mental health is improving and considering we have been friends for a long time I just wanted to catchup. So we hang out for a bit then we end up sleeping together, I tell her how much I missed her and ask if theres ever a chance it could go back to the way it was, she says no and that she cant ever have a relationship with me again because we were both toxic in the relationship and we have too many arguments. I started going downhill really badly because of it, sleeping with someone as a mon demisexual and not having that reassurance really messed with me. I tried to distant myself from her but also feeling like I didnt want to let her go because she was the one I wanted to marry. I went on the dating app after being rejected a few times and met someone who I went on a few dates with, I went to her house, had the most uncomfortable sex ever, it almost felt like SA because I wasnt ready...I cried all the way home and uninstalled the apps for a while. I decided i would give it another go after about 6 months, which I thought was actually alright because she was really compassionate, it was long distance, I thought that would be better but then after 3 months told me she had been seeing someone else the entire time..that sucked. I ended up moving out the back of my mates place in the caravan, Poo starts coming around more regularly and we start spending alot of time together. I was insecure the entire time, I kept losing it everytime she would leave because of abandonment issues thinking she was just sleeping with a bunch of people considering she would stay for a couple of days and then go back to her mums (where shes been living), I kept expressing the promise you make to someone when you sleep with them and it wasnt just sex there was a real connection, we would laugh and have alot of fun together. I kept pouring my heart out only to get rejected. I really wanted her to be committed to me and only me because I just wanted to be with her and only her, but also being rejected after a while of not having that connection i got lonely and wanted to find that connection with someone again, but I feel like everytime I try Poo is just there ready to break all my walls just so I cant be with anyone else, then when she has me she doesnt want me...its so fucking confusing! 5 months ago just before Christmas we were just hanging out and it has been a little bit that we were sleeping together and I get this strange feeling, an intuition if you want to call it that, that she is seeing other people, I look through her phone and find a few dating apps on there, she spots me looking at her phone and loses it, i remember specifically though her saying she was banned from one of them a while ago, Ive never looked through her phone even when she wasnt looking I just needed to be sure. I felt lied to and i told her I didnt want to see her anymore for a while. I tried messaging her to catchup as friends around Christmas and to see her, its been years since I havent spent a Christmas and New Year with her all I got was a Happy Christmas and New Year message it was weird that she went really quiet, I had this feeling that she met someone. Well we end up catching up a couple of months ago and she told me shes met someone and shes married with a kid but they are seperated but shes sleeping with her. I tried to get past it and to be friends but shes a completely different person, the way she talks everything, super closed off. It was a looong conversation about me not being able to get over the fact that i felt abandoned by her AGAIN for the millionth time, I said I fucking hated her for putting me through all this shit and blocked her. She made me feel incredibly insecure and I feel like I lost my best friend/soul mate but she just keeps hurting me, I wasnt sure if Im the asshole in all of this...she has blamed me for so many years for so many things. I admit I havent been the easiest at times, I have PTSD from sexual assault and depression, but I have fought really really hard to just live my life and try and be happy, most people say really nice things about me, people say im a catch so i guess I cant be that bad, but I have had moments with Poo specifically where I didnt recognise myself, and I felt like a different person that I didnt like. AITA?

This post is not about the books themselves, more about how the books have affected me. Also, it's going to be a bit of a long rambling post, so if that's not your thing you, be warned.
So here is a bit about me and my situation before I get to my main point.
I'm 30 years old, Autistic, and have struggled with issues like severe depression and anxiety my whole life. That's in addition to endless sensory issues, and social/behavioural issues, because of the autism. I've also struggled with some substance use issues that arose from trying to cope with everything else (Cannabis mostly, and alcohol a little too). Naturally, there are A LOT of characters throughout The Stormlight Archive that I relate to in some way or another.
In the past couple years my life has undergone some massive changes that I've really struggled to deal with. 2 years ago I was diagnosed with late stage 4 cancer, Hodgkins Lymphoma. I had to stop working and begin treatment immediately. (Luckily, I live in Canada so I didn't have to pay outrageous amounts of money, most things were fully covered by governmental assistance) The treatment process took a year, involving many rounds of chemo, and a stem cell transplant, and almost an entire year of recovery. I'm glad to say I am now in full remission! However, not working for two years takes a big financial toll, even if your not paying hundreds of thousands of dollars in medical bills like in other countries. So between all that, and some other issues I won't get into, I decided to move in with my parents, who live in another part of the province, to help me get back on my feet. I've now been living with my parents for about 3 weeks, and I've been settling in and looking for work. I say all of this not for sympathy or anything like that, but because I think it's important context.
Lately, my depression and anxiety have been hitting lows I haven't felt since my most turbulent teenage years, if not lower. I'm sure other people with Autism will understand, change is hard, let alone when nearly every aspect of your life has changed massively. All of this has led me to a lot of introspection, even more than what I'm already prone to do. I've also been doing a reread of the series to prep for book 5. And it's had me thinking about trying to structure my life with oaths/ideals to strive towards. I don't want to just copy them from the characters in the book though. And they tend to be tailored to the individual in a lot of ways anyways. So I've decided to write out my ideals, or at least some, as I haven't figured them all out yet.
The first is of course shared by all: Life before death, strength before weakness, journey before destination.
Obviously my inspiration for the following is strongly inspired by and reminiscent of the books, and structured in the same manner.
I mentioned before that I struggle with severe depression. I've always struggled to find any sort of happiness, joy, or satisfaction in life. Whether its in my personal life, work life, or whatever. But while I seem incapable of finding my own happiness, I know I can make other peoples lives easiebetter and hopefully make their days a little brighter and bring them some happiness. I've always liked helping people and being useful to someone in some way.
So for my second Ideal: I will help people (and animals) around me, I will prioritize their needs before my own desires.
And my third Ideal: I will serve my community and strive to better it. Not for profit or recognition or any sort of personal gain, but because it is right.
I haven't thought of a 4th or 5th yet. I guess I'm not there yet, still need to work on the first ones. But they give me a sense of purpose, which is something I've been lacking for most of my life. I can't be a great fantasy hero who changes the world or anything like that, I'm just an average guy who hasn't even achieved anything meaningful in his life, but maybe I can make a small difference in this small town, and improve the lives of the people near me.

I’m mid flight on my way back from a work trip (BOS to SLC). I arrived on Wednesday and we hit some terrible turbulence on the decent. I love roller coasters and usually love the descent (hate takeoff) but it felt like impending doom. I started having a hefty dose of panic. I’m now mid flight on my way back and feel like my body can’t relax. The weather seems much better today, but I could use any support or tracking. I already have intense OCD and ruminate so this has been really difficult.
edit: I’m DL0558

It was still midway through the second half when Michael Olise hit the corner with a beautiful shot from outside the box, leaving goalkeeper André Onana with no chance. It was his second goal of the day for Crystal Palace against Manchester United — it was his fourth in total. Before him, Jean-Philippe Mateta and Tyrick Mitchell also didn't have much trouble breaking through the Red Devils' defense.
The scene accurately symbolized what a broken giant is. Onana , brought in to be the starting goalkeeper, kneels. Casemiro , an almost incomparable winner in football, standing up after being disarmed on his own pitch. Mason Mount, the season's biggest signing, holds his head in his hands as he looks up at the sky. Three pillars of the first team who are unable to bring the success they had at other clubs to Old Trafford.
Not to mention the 10 absences due to injury – Rashford, Lisandro Martínez and Varane among them – whose reactions from the sofa at home were not exposed, but could not have been better.
After all, the defeat suffered by the current 14th place in the Premier League is far from being just an accident on the road. On the contrary: it is the most recent episode of the crisis experienced by Manchester United in the 2023/24 season.
Manchester United's moment
In the Premier League , the biggest winner in English football is in 8th place in the table. If it ended now, it would be the worst campaign since 1989/90 , when Sir Alex Ferguson was just a promising manager. In the Champions League , the team finished last in its group; In the League Cup , they fell without offering any resistance to Newcastle; In the FA Cup , the last gasp: they are in the final, but only after beating the modest Coventry City on penalties, after seeing a 3-0 in favor turn into 3-3. The players didn't even have the courage to celebrate qualifying .
There are 81 goals conceded in all competitions, the highest number in almost 50 years.
A giant who, after average years, ended last season champion and with a great third place. He maintained the base of the squad and the work of a coach who seemed ideal to make them protagonists again. Until the train derailed
Behind the scenes: the factors that explain Manchester United's crisis
What you read below is an investigation by PL Brasil with exclusive information about United's internal environment. Material that, in addition to pointing the finger at individual performances, shows how the relationship between players, Erik Ten Hag and other club employees took the Red Devils to hell.
Too many difficult and sleepy tactical meetings
The way Erik Ten Hag approaches preparing for matches is the subject of complaints in the Manchester United dressing room. What we heard is that the Dutch coach has a habit of holding tactical meetings before each game in an unusual way. They tend to be long, lasting 30 to 40 minutes, and are repeated three or four times weekly — a frequency that bothers and surprises the locker room.
More than one athlete in the squad says they had more talks of this type with Ten Hag at United than in the rest of their career. Reports are of players' lack of concentration and even drowsiness during the sessions.
This in itself would explain the difficulty United have against teams that are unmatched in terms of talent. There were 12 goals conceded to Palace, Burnley, Sheffield, Coventry and Bournemouth, for example, in the last five games.
Episode against Everton undermined the squad’s confidence
But, as if bad teaching wasn't enough, there are still cases where the problem was bigger than assimilation. PL Brasil heard that a specific episode undermined the coach's credibility with the squad.
Before the game against Everton, on March 9, Ten Hag spent long hours explaining to the team that the Toffees would play at Old Trafford with low lines, without putting pressure on the home team to get the ball out. The game started and it was exactly the opposite: Everton stifled United's defense from the first second.
There were at least four good chances created in the opening 15 minutes. Before the end of the first half, Dalot lost a ball in the defense field that was not a goal because Onana avoided it. Evans was another tackled near the area, in a move that Varane saved the team.
United ended up winning the game. Garnacho found two penalties in individual plays in the first half, which were converted by Bruno Fernandes and Rashford. But the case was enough to increase the distrust of those under command towards the commander.
Manchester (dis)United: group management heavily criticized
Regardless of his ability as a coach, Ten Hag's relationship with the players is not a strong point of his time at United.
There is no shortage of recent evidence of this. Just remember how Cristiano Ronaldo was “kicked” from the club, in the middle of the 2022/23 season. Recently, Jadon Sancho had a public fight with the Dutchman before being loaned to Borussia Dortmund — and reaching the Champions League final. Rashford also added cases of indiscipline.
The way Ten Hag deals with these personal situations has not gone down well with the squad leaders since his termination with CR7. There is a view in the dressing room that he does not have enough experience to manage the squad of a club the size of Manchester United.
Another complaint concerns the “heavy” atmosphere that the coach creates after the team’s defeats. It is not uncommon for him to opt for “exaggerated” individual demands while still in the locker room, including with athletes who arrived in Manchester at the Dutchman’s request.
Even in episodes where the punishment is fair and the attitude is condemned by the majority of the cast, the lack of criteria is highlighted. We found that other players committed indiscipline “of the same degree” as Sancho and were not close to the same “conviction”.
(Preventable) unprecedented injury crisis
A survey by the “Mirror” shows that the number of physical problems at Manchester United since August last year exceeds 60. It is more than double that of recent years. Although there is some credit to the bloated English calendar, internally, many athletes credit Erik Ten Hag's training for the excess of injuries.
According to some, he makes the mistake of maintaining the same training load throughout the season, even if the accumulated fatigue is much greater in the final stretch.
“He blows everyone away” , PL Brasil heard. Exhausting sessions, canceling days off and complaining about training have been pertinent topics at United for some time.
In December, “Sky Sports” did an article about how the Dutchman had already lost the support of half the squad due to his questionable methods. It was already clear how much his choices were “blowing out” several athletes.
But if Ten Hag makes so many mistakes, is no one capable of correcting it? There are two main problems that go beyond the Dutchman's drawing board. The first is that United is going through a transition phase at the club in which it does not have a sporting director.
Without a director, Ten Hag commands and dismantles
The club made a deal with Dan Ashworth, from Newcastle, but the target is still spending his last few weeks at the club in the north of England. This means that there is no one strong enough to prune Ten Hag in the football hierarchy.
And the second involves a structural problem at the club. The new owner, Jim Ratcliffe, has already given interviews about the precariousness he found in United's facilities. The medical department is no exception.
Medical department generates complaints
Manchester is seen as a football team that has fallen behind its rivals when it comes to scientific methods and modernization. Poor DM performance is also cited as a cause of recurrent injuries.
We found out that, not surprisingly, players sometimes prefer to consult a private specialist or ignore the injury rather than opting for treatment from the club's physiotherapists. In addition to quantity, rarity. This season, Casemiro injured his hamstring – it was the first muscle injury in the 32-year-old midfielder's entire career. He got injured in training, came back, had the same injury and missed important commitments for the Brazilian team.
Luke Shaw was another who was injured in August, returned in November and had the same injury in February. They were the most serious muscle injuries of his career. The left-back missed 30 games this season. Last year, he was only out of three.
What has changed in a year?
What is striking is that none of this can be treated as new. Ten Hag was already at the club when United had their most successful recent season in 2022/23. League Cup champion , third place in the Premier League. The structure did not regress either. So what has changed?
PL Brasil understands, based on internal reports, that the context has changed. In the first season, working in England for the first time, Ten Hag chose a less abrupt and more conciliatory stance — although episodes like Ronaldo's happened.
The same happened on the part of the players, who were “feeling the style” of the coach upon his arrival. A sum of concessions that, combined with good results on the field, got the team going.
However, what was an advantage turned into a shot in the foot. Empowered by the title and morale, the coach felt more comfortable imposing his style in the second year. And the players, meanwhile, found themselves increasingly worn out. Therein lies the recipe for decadence.
Ratcliffe is also named
It is true that United are going through a transition phase. The Glazer family, which has owned the club for the past few decades, has sold its controlling interest to billionaire Sir Jim Ratcliffe. What this means in terms of change is still unclear.
Ratcliffe makes no secret of the fact that he wants to carry out renovations, ranging from the Old Trafford stadium to the squad, including the training center. But he does not believe in Ten Hag staying or leaving, nor any player.
The impression given is that the new owners do not feel comfortable taking drastic action before the end of the season. Especially because, in the event of failure — which is almost a certainty in the current context — they will already bear the weight of their mistakes.
The distance is so great that Ratcliffe only met the cast once. And the meeting still took place at the request of the players, and not the boss. Symptomatic.
Trying to save the worst campaign in history in the Premier League, United hosts Arsenal this Sunday (12), in the third to last round. It is difficult to imagine a more difficult confrontation at a more turbulent time than this. We await scenes from the next chapters at Old Trafford.

I just don't know where to start. There too many things to say.
I think that, for starters, I should tell things from the beginning.
I come from a big family, both our parents and 5 siblings: 26M, 24F, 22M, me and my twin sister 15F and 13F.
You might think the problem is between my twin or little sister, just a normal teen fight due to immaturity and selfishness. The "beef"is actually between me and my oldest sister (24F), woth whom I have never been really close.
I'm not a saint in this situation but neither is she. Despite our relationship I really care about her as my sister and I think she does as well. When I was a kid she was always at her friends so I never managed to actually create a bond with her like I've made with my other siblings and I feel kinda sad about it.
Another important fact for this story is that back in 2019 her exbf bought her a dog ( her name is Mia). At the beginning she was really attached to Mia and I could barley touch her. But as she went to college ,once the pandemic came to an end, it was my mom who really took the responsability to look over Mia, making a strong bond with her and becoming her owner over my sister. My mom and sisters relationship is also kind of turbulent, and she was def not happy with this either. Even today, she keeps on making comments about this. And many other things. 90% of the time she is talking can be sum up by complains, sarcastic comments towards everyone, astrology, numerology, her bloated stomach, and conspiracy theories about the government and reptilians. Not making fun of her beliefs but that's really much it.
We could say our beef started 3 years ago, when we moved to an other country and she decided to stay with her bf at our home country, visiting us time to time for 3 months or so. She dropped the uni, started a digital marketing course while working in a retail store. (Gotta say that's really amazing and I was really proud of her).
Around that time I develope an ED, due to the stress, being separated from my oldest brother, undiagnosed anxiety disorder, etc. When she came home she would usually made comments between about me gaslighting everyone for attention ( we could translate to manipulative bitch or smith) which I really believed and still believe. When I was admitted to the hospital I received videocalls and letters showing support from all my family. All my family but her.
During my anxiety attacks she would scream at me and insult me. I did to. During this outbursts I can scream, binge eat ( now I'm bulimic and gained lots of weight) hit myself and, recently, started with the dangerous activiyrunning away from home ( usually in the middle of the night). I've even got to the point to sleep in the streets. And even though I don't do this on purpose, im eaten by the thought that she is right, that Im a manipulative bitch.
She also hates that I take care of Mia, since after my mom, I'm the person who spends more time with her; playing, taking her out to walk, making sure she's got food and water ( since my sister doesn't) and other stuff. She talks to her friends about me on my "back" and sometimes makes sure i hear her. She also badmouths my mom or dad, which really pisses me off.
This is just a summary about the whole situation. Without my parents, she is the only adult in the house as one of my brothers studies in another city and the other lives in another country.
This might sound mean but, I wish she was the one to leave.
PD: I've missed things but ik this post is already a Bible. Forgive me for my grammar mistakes and I'd be glad if you pointed them out 😘. Thanks if you read this far.
EDIT: This is a major detail I missed. She finished the course and now is working (well paid job but still shitty environment). The bf who gave her the dog is the same for whom she stayed. She cheated on her and she is permanently living with us.