It's going to be way easier to get you guys battle reports more consistently!
Today's battle report is the lowest point score I've ever played; a 300 point duel inside an urban setting! Perhaps this is a small part of a larger engagement of sorts?
This game features a unique layout that would be hard to replicate in physical play; a bridge over a deep river. The dark blue of the river counts as Deep Water terrain; furthermore, it's the lowest level of elevation, so the pavement, bridge, and buildings (which are High Ground anyway) all count as High Ground against the river. The centermost control point is the bridge's center, making it a deadly choke point!
Being an ultra low point game, squad composition is absolutely crucial. You have very little to work with, so you need to maximize your forces with what's available.
Principality of Zeon
Yours truly is running the Zeeks again. My strategy is simple; lock down the center lane, and try to buff cannon fodder to punch above their weight class. I've chosen a Zaku I Sniper as my unit to build around; I've upgraded them to an Ace, and made them my Commander. I'm going to give him Grand Strategist and Commando, making him extremely hard to target, able to give my Zaku I's and II's free Focus Actions en masse, and lock down the center lane while on top of a building, trying to cover my advancing forces.

• x1 Zaku I Sniper Ace Commander (Grand Strategist, Commando)
  
• x2 Zaku II (Machine Gun)
  
• x2 Zaku II (Magella Cannon)
  
• x5 Zaku I (OYW Playtest Unit)
  

Earth Federation Forces
Daisucc again is my opponent. He has a smaller team with a diverse set of weapons; three GM Ground Types, and a GM Striker Ace as his Commander. His Ace has Elusive and Close Combat Expert; both very complementary to its strengths. However, that's not what has me worried; it's a close combat Ace with Decimator. This is actually an extremely potent choice, because he could easily use Tear Through The Ranks on a unit with a highly proven track record to swing Momentum in his favor, putting us at a difference of FIVE if successful. We're only starting with three! I will need to play this very, very carefully.

• x1 GM Striker Ace Commander (Close Combat Expert, Elusive, Decimator)
  
• x1 GM Ground Type (Bazooka)
  
• x1 GM Ground Type (Beam Rifle)
  
• x1 GM Ground Type (Machine Gun)
  

Round 1
In a rare turn of events, I win the die roll! I distribute my Focus Actions to my Zaku II’s and a Zaku I. I start off with an artillery barrage, trying to force Daisucc’s hand. He responds by targeting the cover of his assailant directly, blasting down the building and toppling it. Uncool, man!
I push forward with a Zaku II, trying to get pressure on the bridge. He sends out his Machine Gun GM, and puts a few rounds into him. Fortunately, that means my Zaku I Sniper can cleanly…
…not kill the GM? Didn’t roll as well as I’d hoped, because my opponent pops two Momentum to save him. Bleh. Fortunately, my Zaku II survives the Beam Rifler attacking him, and my other Magella Cannon Zaku II finished off the Machine Gunner. His GM Striker vainly fires off his Machine Gun before taking cover behind a… we’ll say an exceptionally large… truck, of sorts, on the bridge. My Zaku I’s take up High Ground positions to conclude the Round.
Round 2
This round was a blur, because it mostly involved a lot of people shooting at each other, missing, and just barely being out of one another’s ranges. Our strategies have us at odds; he needs to advance to cause havoc, but I have the range and numbers advantage, 3-to-1 at this point. I need to hold back until the right time, or the Striker Ace will make victory impossible, using my larger team size against me. He manages to knock out my Zaku II on the bridge, but has to retreat behind cover in order to not get wiped against my many High Ground Zaku I’s with Focus Actions. It’s tense!
Round 3
My opponent wins the die roll. He advances his Bazooka GM out from cover, and knocks out a Zaku I that had crossed the river with Full Throttle last round. However, the other Machine Gun Zaku II on the bridge responds by jumping on the “truck,” using the Accelerate Pilot Skill to get the position, use a Focus Action and High Ground to get four free hits, pluse another three from Rapid Fire…
And rolls a bunch of crits! He has enough movement to hop down to protect himself.
We’re getting somewhere now, but there’s a problem. See, my higher quantity of forces leaves me with the distinct risk of my opponent earning too many Victory Points to win, especially if I can’t nail down the Striker Ace. At this point, my opponent is actually tying the game 2-2… and the Striker could turn this around very fast.
This is emphasized by the Beam Rifle GM popping on the building it’s behind with Accelerate, putting a clean hole in the cockpit of my Zaku II with a Magella Cannon across the bridge with Tactical Advantage, and hopping back down. 3-2. Shit.
I continue to jockey for positions, moving my Zaku I Sniper off its perch with Full Throttle, with a new strategy in mind…
Round 4
I win the die roll, and push my Zaku I Sniper forward JUST ENOUGH to get my opponent at 25.3 inches away. This is a crucial distance for the Zaku I Sniper; just within Sensors Range, just outside of Rapid Fire. This is the ideal kill distance… and also allows me to Target Lock, and shoot through the Striker’s cover…
But it lives! Augh! How?!
I lose another Zaku I. 4-2. Victory is looking poor, unless I get that Striker Ace, which would put us at 2-5… another Zaku I manages to use Rapid Fire and a Focus Action to knock it down. It’s real close to the GM Striker… this could be rough.
But, as my Magella Zaku II pops its Focus Action to get an extra hit on him, the cover of the Striker collapses! This is the crucial thing I needed to clinch the win! Exposed, it rapidly capitulates to Focus Action enhanced Machine Gun barrages, securing the win.
Conclusion
This was a fun, tense game! I feel that this could’ve swung in a different direction entirely if I wasn’t playing really conservatively. If my opponent had brought even one Artillery Cannon on a Ground Type or a Guntank MP, this could’ve been a very different game! Even still, his units were capable of much higher damage than my many, many cannon fodder units, and it was only through careful planning did I prevent my opponent’s lethal strategy from properly going off.
I have another report in the works! Stay tuned!

Please use this post to discuss your training for the day or any simple questions you have! Talk about how lifts went, your workouts PRs achieved, goals set, whatever!

USEFUL LINKS

• 5/3/1 FAQs <<<<< start here!
• 5/3/1: Common Errors and Ideas on how to Customize it to your Needs
• Routine Picker - template decision tree
• 5/3/1 Primer - 531 principles & concepts
• 5 Common Misconceptions... About 5/3/1
• Training After an Illness
• Jim Wendler's Blog
• 5/3/1 Forever book
• 5/3/1 Forever Table of Contents

COMMON TEMPLATES

• 5/3/1 for Beginners
• Boring But Big: Beefcake Training
• 5/3/1 Beach Body Challenge
• Boring But Big 3-Month Challenge
• 5/3/1: How to Build Pure Strength
• Building the Monolith - 5/3/1 for Size
• Comprehensive list of public templates

TOOLS

I had a dream probably 12 years ago that I’ve never forgotten, during one of the darkest times in my life when I was scared I’d fail in life
The dream began in a volcanic Ashland where I was traveling with a ragtag band of refugees trying to escape some horrible volcanic event or maybe even super volcanic event, so we were all journeying through this grey valley flanked by ashen mountains with a few distant volcanoes, I was the leader of this group and they were depending on me to hopefully guide them to survival.
We came to a huge obsidian temple structure and it was built onto the valley wall so we had to climb it to ascend out of the valley, so we entered. But the building had an ominous energy like something dark was sleeping inside of it.
Part of the way up, a young boy in my group was running ahead even though I told him to wait and tried to run after him, but as happens in dreams my legs were like lead and I couldn’t keep up. I had this growing sense of dread.
Then the boy slipped off the edge over an overhang and as I looked down after him he plunged into a lava pool, burning to death. My sense of dread didn’t go away it only increased. Somehow I knew (maybe because it was a dream made by my own mind) that that wasn’t the only horror that awaited us in here, this place wanted all of us not just the boy.
That dread manifested as the boy came clawing his way out from the lava pit and let out a horrifying cry like a nazgul or a ghoulish undead, with his flesh bubbling and dripping off of his bones in places he began sprinting with inhuman speed back towards the entrance of the obsidian temple he had fallen from, right back into the entrance.
My band of refugees began panicking, torn between the anguish of watching the boy die and the horror dawning on them of what he had become- a monster- and why he would come sprinting back into the temple some floors below us.
We all heard the inhuman commotion as his undead body slammed into corners, so great was his speed, and we all realized rather abruptly that he was closing in on our group.
I urged the group to begin climbing the stairwells that wrapped around the precipices of this obsidian temple, up towards the valley wall. We had only one possible escape: somehow reaching the top and whatever salvation waited for us up there from the desolate volcanic wasteland and the undead monster that had once been a little boy. So we all begun to sprint, but we were slow.
some of the refugees had bags, some were elderly men and women, it began to dawn on me that we had no hope to escape as i heard the monster closing in from below. I turned to confront him, readying to fight with no weapons.
When he emerged he looked at me with his ghastly skull shining through his melted off face and he spoke and said "You did this to me so I will punish you by making you live while your people die." And he ran past me with superhuman speed and tore into my group, beginning to butcher these weak powerless refugees even as I tried to fight him, plead with him, even as I tried to urge them to keep running, he eventually killed every last one of them with his long ghoul clawed skeletal hands.
"Im sorry." i said to him. "Im sorry i let you become a monster." and he just smiled back at me and stepped off the ledge, plunging again into the lava, this time to rest eternal, but the carnage of my mangled people now lay all around me, and still the black obsidian stairway beckoned, leading up into the tallest passes of the ashen mountains where smoke and fog obscured the path, I had nobody left and nowhere to go but up.
So i went up. Up, up, up through winding valley corridors of sheer black jagged rockfaces, ascending thousands of steps until the atmosphere seemed thin and the night stars shone from above, the distant red glow of the lava flows fading to a dull reminder of the carnage i was leaving behind me.
eventually the climb slowed but the path continued and the stairs began to turn downwards, the rock walls opened up into a dusty grey plain of old ash that had blown here from distant eruptions in the ashlands below, but it was cold up here and dark, and the fog parted and i saw in the distance a structure, not ominous and unnatural like the obsidian temple but a human structure, a distant farmhouse, but I had a feeling when i looked down the winding stairs at this house like i was looking into the blackness of a night that has a rapidly approaching tornado, totally invisible, the sight of this farmhouse gave me a sense of existential dread greater than even the obsidian temple had inspired. But i knew i had to keep going forward anyways. So, with despair in every step, i put one foot infront of the next and kept walking.
As i approached the house I realized its scale, it was not some small farmhouse, more of a manse, and the stairs on this path led straight to its roof where the stairs that had once led down from its top were gone. There was only a gaping black hole in the roof, my only way forward was into this abandoned structure, so with a heart full of fear i lowered myself down into pitch blackness.
I found myself in an ash flooded attic full of furniture like old spinning wheels and some misshapen objects with soot stained sheets over them, the room was so very cluttered with dillapidated old stuff that i could hardly navigate it. I kept bumping stuff then I froze, because on thr far side of the room i saw a sillouhette standing motionless. A feminine sillouhette that seemed like it moved slightly as I brushed against an old desk, causing a noise.
As she reacted, she turned towards me and I saw her face, and her mouth hung open, her jaw split in two, one half dangling and the other holding a malicious grimace.
She moved like a squid striking out from inky blackness at its prey, lifting up off her feet and drifting rapidly to me, her mangled jaw soon centering around my field of view as her face filled my vision and she grabbed the sides of my head, talking to me
"You have to pay for what he did to us, you have to see it all"
And she entered me, i just remember at this point in my dream my vision was full of motion, like she had possessed me and was flying me through the pages of her own history book, in a misty ashen blur of colors and shapes i found myself chopping wood in a dark forest with green leaves around, when a rage filled every fiber of my being and i turned towards a tent, gripping my axe as i swung it through the fabric, turning it on my first wife (in my dream i understood this to be the vision of the woman's husband when he murdered her with his axe) and splitting her jaw and head open rather than any log
I was crying abd begging to be left alone and allowed to leave when we swirled back into the attic, and the ghost was standing right there with inhuman stillness, i couldnt look away from her mangled face as she said "now you know what he did to me…" and she slowly disappeared into a small mist
I was deeply disturbed and crying and disoriented as i looked around the attic and saw a small wooden panel with some grey filtered light showing through it and i went that way, but as i did another ghost of a different women, her neck angled violently screamed at me and grabbed me and possessed me, now I was her husband, the same man with his second wife wringing her neck as she turbed blue
In this manner a series of murdered women ghosts possessed me, forcing me to witness their deaths from the poijt of view of their killer, all killed by the same horrible man in different violent ways, in total 7 stories of 7 murders of 7 dead wives, and each one whisming me to another part of this forsaken farmhouse where they had lurked waiting for whichever man was unlucky enough to enter this cursed homestead
My experience dreaming this was mostly an unsettling amount of vertigo during the dream and images of violence and these ghastly faces of ghosts filling my vision before flying me to another room where another ghost would stand motionless waiting to possess me, the entire time i felt like i was crying and falling from a very extreme height
Eventually though the last ghost released me from her possession and i stood in the kitchen room where she stood with me, her face blue from drowning in a bath tub, and she smiled at mr and spoke more gently than thr others had, she reached to take my hand but when i flinched and screamed she dropped her arm back down to her side and just smiled sadly at me
"Thank you"
And she and all other ghosts were gone and it was just me alone in this forsaken manse's kitchen, and i heard a sound i never expected, trickling water. So i walked towards it and found a back door on the ground level which opened easily, and i stepped outside and saw some white, ash-filtered sunlight and a sight that took my breath away, about 300 yards away was a running river with lush green trees and plants and a thundering waterfall, and i knew that my trials had passed as i walked out towards the end of the ashlands with my boots squishing in fertile muddy soil, and i woke up completely drenched in a puddle of my own sweat

Last night, when I was home alone, a hand reached out from under the couch and grabbed me.
Nobody was there to see it, and nobody that I’ve told believes me, but it definitely happened. It’s not the kind of thing you can just imagine, and I’m sure now that it wasn’t a dream.
I was watching TV when it happened. The remote fell under the couch and I started fishing around for it without really looking, not wanting to get up from my seat. I brushed it with the tips of my fingers and it slid further underneath.
I was super annoyed— I had to get down on my knees to reach it. I finally found the remote, and that’s when it grabbed me.
As I pulled the remote out into the light, a hand shot up from under the couch and wrapped its fingers around my wrist.
I was able to yank myself away quickly. It didn’t hold on tight— just enough that I felt a little resistance. I jumped to my feet, obviously terrified.
I didn’t scream or anything. I was honestly too scared to even make a sound. My heart was beating so fast that my ears started to ring. The TV was still going, commercials droning on while I tried to process what had just happened.
The hand had only come out about a foot from under the couch. It had an arm attached to it, though I wasn’t able to see past its elbow, and it slinked back below the couch as soon as I pulled myself free from its grasp.
It didn’t hurt, and it didn’t leave any sort of bruise or mark or anything on my wrist, but I definitely felt it, and I definitely saw it.
All I could do was stare at the spot where the hand had appeared. I stood there for what felt like an eternity, until I heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps right outside my front door.
I live in a second-story apartment. It’s a pretty cramped place and a pretty old building, so whenever someone comes over I can usually hear footsteps from the moment they enter the building downstairs.
I guess I was so freaked out by the hand that I didn’t even notice someone was outside until they were already opening the door.
My roommate walked in on quite a scene. She immediately registered how off the vibe was. I could see it on her face.
She found me standing upright in the middle of our living room, TV remote in hand, facing away from the screen while Full House’s laugh track filled the air. I’m sure I’d think it was odd too.
“Hey…” she said, shifting a paper bag full of groceries in her arm while she pocketed her keys, “You good?”
I felt like I was caught with my pants down, but just seeing a familiar face brought some of the blood back to my fingers.
“N—yeah,” I stuttered. I came back online, and flicked the TV off.
I felt her eyes on me as she walked over to the kitchen. There’s no wall or anything dividing the two rooms. Like I said, the place is pretty cramped.
She started putting her groceries away as if everything was normal, but I could tell she wanted to ask what was up.
I kept looking back and forth between her and the couch. I can’t explain it, but I already knew that if I looked under there, I wouldn’t find any trace of whoever (or whatever) grabbed me.
As she started loading up the fridge, I dropped to my hands and knees once again. Without taking even a second to ready myself, I brought my head down to the ground and looked under the couch.
Nothing.
Pretty much what I expected. There was barely enough room for me to squeeze my arm under there for the remote. No way a whole person could fit beneath that thing, and even if they could, there’s no way I wouldn’t have seen them or heard them or something before they grabbed me.
“Seriously, what’s up?”
I looked up to see my roommate standing right behind me, arms crossed, clearly concerned.
I knew I was acting strange, and I knew that nothing I would come up with in the next five seconds could possibly excuse my behavior. I made a judgement call, honestly not really caring about how it would be received.
“I uh… something grabbed me earlier.”
“What?”
“Under the couch. I dropped the remote, and when I picked it up, a hand reached out from under the couch and grabbed me.”
Took her a second to respond.
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“That’s it. A hand reached out and grabbed me by the wrist. It happened like a minute before you got here.”
That part might have been a lie. I actually have no idea how long I had been standing in the middle of the room before she showed up.
“Wait so like someone broke in?”
“No. It’s just like I said. A hand reached out, grabbed me, and then it was gone.”
She just kinda looked at me for a while. I don’t blame her, but it’s not like there was any way for me to sugarcoat it.
“Are you sure?”
“What do you mean ‘am I sure?’ Yes, yes I’m fucking sure!”
My voice broke a little when I said that. I was still down on my knees, like I was praying for her to believe me.
“Okay well obviously that didn’t happen Sam.”I let out a desperate laugh and threw my hands up in the air. I slapped them down on my thighs dramatically and shook my head in exasperation.
“Yeah obviously it sounds fucking crazy but you asked what happened and that’s what happened. I don’t know how else to describe it. I’m just being honest.”
I pulled myself up to my feet and walked around to the armrest of the couch. She kept studying me, probably thinking this was all a prank or something.
“What are you doing?” She asked, arms still glued across her chest.
“I’m checking under the couch.”
I pushed one end of the couch away from the wall. It was pretty heavy, and the coffee table stopped me from moving it too far. I dragged the coffee table towards the TV to free up some space.
My roommate started staring at the spot I was clearing as if she expected to see something there too.
I went back over to the armrest.
“Can you help me?”
She snapped out of her trance and silently went to grab the other side. We pulled the couch away from the wall, revealing a thick rectangle of dust that had not seen the light of day since we moved in a year ago.
I dropped to my knees once more and began wiping away the grime with my bare hands. There was nothing but the floorboards beneath it. No surprise.
I sat there for a second, eyes darting around the floor. No fingerprints in the dust, no scratches or marks or anything. I felt the tension in the room dissipate as my roommate found her voice again.
“I think you must have imagined it.”
I didn’t. There’s no way.
“Dude, no. I felt it and I saw it. Clear as day. It was a hand, and it grabbed me. That’s not the sort of thing you can just imagine.”
She scoffed, any fear left in her giving way to frustration.
“Whatever. This is fucking stupid. I’m going to bed.”
She stomped off towards her room.
“Wait.”
She spun on her heels as I stood up, probably expecting me to tell her I was joking about the whole thing.
“Can you help me flip the couch over?”
She rolled her eyes.
“Sure. But I’m not helping you put it back.”
She helped me lift the couch off of its legs and tilt it onto its front cushions, exposing the fabric underneath. She disappeared into her room and I went to work studying the underside of the sofa.
There was a zipper lining the bottom, but I found nothing inside when I opened it up. Just a hollow wooden frame and a bunch of crumbs.
I sat back against the wall, more tired than scared at that point.
I can’t believe she thinks I’m making this up. Why would I even do that? What purpose would it serve?
As I solemnly went about rebuilding our living room, I decided that the next day (today) I was gonna take off work, wait for her to leave, and really get to the bottom of this.
I didn’t sleep at all last night. Every nook and cranny of my room felt like a door left wide open, with something sinister waiting on the other side.
What if the hand comes back? What if it wants to hurt me next time? How can I even protect myself?
After like ten restless minutes in bed, I decided to move to the floor. I couldn’t help it. I kept imagining the hand reaching up from under the bed and grabbing me again.
I made a makeshift sleeping bag out of my comforter and some pillows, and I laid on my side so I could keep an eye on the underside of my bedframe while I slept. Maybe “slept” isn’t the right word. Even down there, I couldn’t bring myself to close my eyes for longer than a minute.
Eventually sunlight began to peek through the blinds, and I heard some movement within the apartment. My roommate was finally up. I heard the front door close, and it was time to get to work.
I nearly threw my back out yanking the couch away from the wall to reveal the floorboards underneath. They aren’t real floorboards, just the kind of cheap-o fake shit they put in crappy houses to make them look more modern. Our whole apartment is like that— a thin coat of paint slapped over an old building from the 40s or whatever.
My dad actually owns this building. He lets me and my roommate stay here as long as we pay him $500 a month, which is way cheaper than most places in my area.
It’s not really an apartment building to be honest. You can tell it used to be a family home before some realtor swooped in and broke it up into apartments. There are a lot of those around here.
Anyway, the fake wood came up easy. It was only about a quarter inch thick. I was able to pull up the first plank by hammering a kitchen knife into a slit between the boards, and then I peeled a few more away by hand.
After prying away about a dozen of these fake floorboards, I started to realize that I wasn’t going to find anything without making a significantly larger dent. Right beneath the thin layer of fake wood was a layer of very real, very thick wooden beams that seemed to span well beyond the hole I had managed to claw open.
My back crackled and popped as I sat back on my heels to admire my handiwork and contemplate where to go from there. I knew I would need a power saw or some kind of heavy duty tool to get any deeper, but I was afraid of two things:

1. That these beams were supporting the entire second floor of the building, and cutting through them would make the whole thing collapse
2. That going any deeper would lead me into the ceiling of the apartment below us, and whoever lives there would call my dad before I could see what I needed to see.

Regardless of the risks, I knew I had to keep going. I was certain that something was down there. Whatever grabbed me had to have left some sort of evidence.
I can’t stop thinking about that fucking hand.
I’m not supposed to have it, but my dad gave me a master key for the whole building in case of emergencies. He could really get in trouble if anyone found out, but if this isn’t an emergency then idk what is.
There’s a service shed around the back of the building, which has seen none of the love that the main building saw when it was renovated. Decades worth of rusty antiques and rotting furniture line the walls. A shiny, modern tool bench sits unnaturally in the middle of the chaos.
I rifled through all of that shit as fast as I could. I’m not really close with my dad all things considered, and I’m sure he’d be super pissed if he found me out there. He’s so secretive about random shit all the time, and he’s constantly dropping by the building unannounced.
I found the jigsaw under a pile of old newspapers and ran back upstairs.
I probably should have checked the driveway to see if anyone was home first, because the saw made so much noise. The cord barely reached from the outlet to the spot where the couch used to be, but as awkward as the angle was, I was still able to get it in there.
I went as small as possible with my first few cuts. I started with a single beam, cutting out a section about 6x6 inches wide. I slid the chunk of wood out, and, to my relief, didn’t immediately see the plaster that would be my downstairs neighbor’s ceiling.
A tuft of insulation stuck out where I made the hole. I didn’t know that stuff is made from fiberglass or whatever, and I got a really bad splinter when I went to yank it out.
I fished some leather gloves out of my roommate’s closet and got to work on the insulation. I pulled and pulled but couldn’t get a good enough grip to remove anything more than a few bits about the size of a tennis ball.
I went back in with the jigsaw, cutting bigger and bigger chunks until I had cleared a hole about two feet in diameter.
No sign that I was gonna bring the building down, that’s good.
I hacked away for hours. More wood came up, more insulation came up, and when I finally hit a fragile-looking layer of drywall, I knew the jig was up. That’s definitely my neighbor’s ceiling. Fuck.
My roommate and I got in a screaming match when she got home. I made a pretty big mess but I don’t really give a fuck honestly.
I don’t give a fuck if she believes me. I fucking hate that bitch. I told her if she tells my dad what I’m doing, I’ll bash her brains in with the hammer. That shut her up. She left with a bag full of her clothes like an hour later.
Tomorrow I’m going to wait for our downstairs neighbor to leave and start investigating from the bottom-up. If there wasn’t any evidence on the floor up here, there HAS to be something on the ceiling down there.
If I do find something, I’ll post again. I doubt anyone will even believe me, but at this point I just want everything written down somewhere accessible in case something bad happens.
There has to be something down there. Something grabbed me. And I’m going to find out what it is.

Slutty Sister Has Her Brother Locked For Life (non-con, forced chastity, bondage, punishment)
Part 1
The keyholder nurse gave me instructions and explained everything after it was all over. My family had told me that I was a sex pervert and I was "being dealt with". I knew I was in trouble, but I was a young man, only 18 and I didn't understand what was going on. No one had told me anything after the hearing.
Mom drove me to an odd building, led me to a secure room and left. A young nurse told me to undress. I was totally naked. An older woman in scrubs and a man entered. They strapped my arms and legs down to a cold steel table. The nurse offered the woman a syringe, but she declined and said "No, I want this creep to feel it".
It all started a month ago. I lived with my mom and sister, dad was gone. My sister was 19, with a tight body and medium sized, perky tits. Mom was thick, curvy, with giant tits. Both recently got their naval's pierced with matching studs. Neither had boyfriends, but they were very promiscuous. We lived in a mobile home with thin walls, so I could hear them getting fucked often.
I made some mistakes. First, my sister caught me peeping on her in the shower and told mom. Then, two of her "friends" came over for sex. They took turns on her. She got very loud. After they left, I went in her room. She covered herself, but I saw her pussy and stomach first. There were small puddles of cum around her pantyline, and some more of it leaking out of her. I told her I was still a virgin and asked if I could "go next" on her. She yelled "get out" and told mom when she got home from work.
The third incident was more serious they said. Mom would sometimes drink and pass out. I'd never felt tits before and hers were so enticing. She had some drinks and went to bed. I snuck in. She was asleep, uncovered, wearing a gown. I grabbed her heaving boobs. Then I took one of my hands off her chest and pulled the gown above her waist, exposing her. I slid my hand between her legs and rubbed her pussy. She woke up and caught me. She was pissed. The next day my sister told me they had turned me in and there would be a hearing.
So I knew why I was on the metal table, but I didn't know what was next. I couldn't see, there was a drape at my waist. It started with gloves and cold metal on my genitals, then clamping, pinching, pulling, and eventually a sharp puncturing pain near my balls. I begged them to stop, but they did it 2 more times, once on my cock. Finally a metal device was brought out. I could feel it being slid on, clamped down, tightened, then locked. "All done" they said and left. The young nurse stayed behind.
She removed the drape and released the straps. I inspected the "device". My cock and balls had been fed through a steel ring that tightly encircled them at the base. It was secured to a piercing just above my taint and another at the top. My penis was locked in a tight steel "cage" with a hole at the end for pissing. The head had been pierced and a metal bar went through me as extra security. It wasn't going anywhere. The whole thing was super tight.
"What is this?" I asked.
She explained. "It's your chastity device. Your genitals have been locked up. At the hearing, your mother and sister requested that you be put in chastity. The safety council asked them how long they thought would be appropriate and both wanted you locked forever. Since the incidents involved incest, the council agreed. Your penis is locked for life. I'm your keyholder nurse. I will help with adjustments, cleanings, draining your balls, and anything else needed for chastity".
"When do I get to take off?" I said.
She answered, "You're locked forever. So you wont get to take it off. They have to keep you locked so your sister is safe and to punish you for what you did to your mom. You wont be able to have sex or force anyone. Since you can't masturbate, your balls might swell, so you will see me every other month to drain them, do a deep cleaning, and tighten your cage, if necessary.
--------------------------------XXX--------------------------------

Part 2

The room was cold. My keyholder nurse was a cute twenty-something. A name tag with "Beverly" was pinned above her perky boobs. Her scrub top was tight around her chest. I could see the shape of her breasts and her hard nipples pressing againt the fabric. I stared and my cage got tighter. She noticed and grinned slightly.
I got back to business, "Can I appeal or get parole or something? What happens next?"
She answered, "Sorry, no appeals for chastity. There is parole, but not for incest cases. What you did is considered extremely disgusting, so they deemed you a "most extreme pervert". Incest offenders get more severe penalties and no parole. I'm not supposed to be judgemental, but you're my first incest case and it sounded really awful at your hearing. It's hard to believe creeps as bad as you even exist, who rubs their own mom's pussy? This case is really bad, so I'm gonna go harder on you than my other guys. I hope it was worth it. So here's what's next...your mother and sister are entitled to a final inspection of your genitals, then you'll go directly to prison to be processed and locked up in the chastity unit."
I was confused and responded with frustration, "I can't believe this is happening to me. I just got too horny seeing the girls dressed like sluts and listening to them getting fucked all the time. After seeing my sisters cum-filled pussy, I lost control and slipped up. If she just gave me sloppy seconds, I wouldn't have done all that to mom....What do you mean prison?!?!"
She responded, bursting with excitement, "Dont worry, you'll learn your lesson! OH! I see they didn't tell you about prison yet, since you were a rush case. Chastity is just an add-on to your prison sentence as an extra penalty and to keep everyone safe. Let me look at your file to see how much time you'll serve."
Looking at her tablet, she smiled big and replied, "I've never gotten to do this before! Most guys hear about their sentence before they get to me...Ok, so they actually got you taken care of pretty good here. It got split up into multiple counts, so fortunately, they were able to put you away for a long time."
She continued, "Your sister had you convicted on two charges, one for the shower incident and one for the bedroom incident. You got two more for mom, one for groping her tits and another for going between her legs. I'll read them off...
Count 1, Incestual peeping, sentence: 1 year special confinement
Count 2, Incestual peeping with propositioning, sentence: 1.5 years special confinement
Count 3, 2nd Degree Incestual Sexual Battery, 2 years special confinement
Ok and here's the big one! For touching mom's pussy...
Count 4, 1st Dregee Incestual Sexual Battery, 4.5 years RIGOROUS confinement in the SCU-I, (Special Chastity Unit, Incest wing), with intensive perversion correction."
So you'll do nine years total, with the first four-and-a-half in the incest wing."
I was completely shocked, "Nine years!? Are you serious? What's special confinement? Am I going to regular prison or what?
Beverely explained, "Special confinement means you'll be put in the chastity unit. It's a separate level for inmates that have their genitals locked, like rapists and other perverts. It's a little different. The cells are super small, you don't get any privileges like TV, and you stay locked in your cell for 23 hours a day. But don't worry. Most of my guys are in the chastity unit. They all want out really bad, but they're fine. Some eventually leave for regular population if their sentence allows, but you'll actually just be finishing up in the main chasity unit after you're done with rigororous confinement for the first four-and-a-half. You'll start off in the incest wing".
"What is all that? I asked
Beverly explained further, "It's a big deal. That's why I got so excited when I read your sentence on count 4. It wasn't just the amount of time you got, but what'll be happening to you that makes it a heavy one. I've heard it's very extreme. Since you're my first incest case, I'm not as familiar with it, but I've heard you're basically caged up 24/7 and pretty much treated like an animal. I'm not sure if you even get a toilet or a bed. You only leave your cage once every two weeks for perversion correction, which I might get to assist with, and you'll get another device I've heard about, called the "silver bullet". I think it's an anal device? You'll learn more about that when you get there. Oh! Looks like it's time to get you ready for inspection."
The door opened as she left and two female guards entered. One had a tazer. They led me to another table. This one had wheels. I sat on the edge. One grabbed my ankles and another tried to push me on my back. I resisted, trying to spin off the table. I was immediately tazed, then sedated, imobilizing me. "This will be easier for if you just comply" she said. I was on my back again. My ankles were lifted toward my head, folding my legs over me. Thick zip ties were placed around my ankles and calfs. My hands and forearms were looped through both, then "zzzzzzzztttt", it was all cinched down tight, securing my arms to my legs. A bar was secured between my knees, keeping me exposed. Beverly came back in. One of the guards said "He's all yours hon" as they left.
"Let's get you cleaned up" Beverly said. "Your mom and sister are on their way and they're excited to see your private parts all locked up for good.
She put gloves on, then approached the table, placing one hand over my nose. I opened my mouth and she shoved a gag in and secured it around my head. "This is just a temporary gag. Your sister didn't want you talking during inspection. I believe you'll get more securely gagged and muzzled when you get to processing. I've heard the guys don't get solid food in the incest wing, you get fed a liquid diet, like that soylent stuff, that you'll take through a drinking tube in your gag. It's really amazing how good they have you incest perverts locked up over there. I can't wait to see you like that.
She started the cleaning by soaping and lathering around my crotch, exposed parts were shaved. She walked away, coming back with a tube and a bag full of fluid that she hung from a pole. The label read "Enema". Beverly explained, "Gotta clean you inside and out. First I'll get you lubed up". She grabbed a metal syring, inserted the tip in my ass, and injected me with lube. At the end of enema tube, there was a detachable nozzle with two inflatable bulbs. One was forced in my ass and both were inflated, locking it in place. I could see the tube going from the bag to inside me. I felt like I was being treated like an animal already. She turned a valve, the fluid began flowing and filled me up. She set a timer for 35 minutes, and sat on her stool, reading cosmo. After an agonizing wait, she removed the nozzle plug, allowing me to release. Finally, thank goodness. I was soaped up again and rinsed. She cleaned up the enema nozzle plug, added more lube, and shoved it back1 inside me. "Putting this back in so we dont have any potential leaks" she said, as she inflated it. She disconnected the outside end of the inflatable nozzle where it attached to the longer enema tube, clamped it off, and let go of it. I felt it bounce around as it settled. "You're all set" she exclaimed.
I was wheeled on the cart-like table through a long, busy hallway to a different room for inspection. I could feel the protruding nozzle plug in my ass flop around as the cart moved. The other employees stared as I went by, a few smiled with satisfaction. How humiliating I thought. I heard murmuring. "Bitchtied pervert getting what he deserves!" one girl said angrily.
Finally in the inspection room, I waited. The door opened, Beverly entered with two blondes behind her, my mom and my sister. The two gorgeous sluts were dressed similar. My mom was wearing tight, denim, high waisted shorts that displayed her ass and curvy hips, they were pulled-up high in a way that you could see the denim tight against her twat. My sister came dressed in super short spandex yoga shorts, tight ones that lifted her already firm butt into perfection. Both wore crop tops with their stomachs and matching naval piercings exposed. Images of my sister's sloppy pussy flashed in my head, my cock and balls both swelled. I stared at their bodies and let out a loud, desperate moan as my cage grew excruciatingly tight.
Part 3 to follow...

This is my first time DMing a campaign, and I have decided to go the route of homebrewing my own world. I'm having a hard time actually building the foundations of the world, and was hoping for some advice or inspiration
I brainstormed some ideas about the world, but I just can't get past writer's block and feel stuck. Listed below are some of the ideas I have regarding some basic lore.

• Main religion is that of worshipping the sun and moon as gods.
• The oceans of the world are black like ink, and are what the Gods used to create life. (The life of men)
• The children of the 2 main Gods represent landscapes, such as mountains, the ocean, ect.
• The first life created by the Gods were dragons that became guardians of certain areas of the earth and are designed by the environment they inhabit, such as a Red Dragon protecting a volcano
• Some of the children aren't just landscapes but represent ideas such as hope, death, life, evil etc.

Overall I have a broad idea about the creation, but not how people interact with Gods or their children in forms of worship.
As for the actual world itself I'm having a hard time creating factions or just town building in general. I've watched some videos for how to create towns and cities, but am having a hard time for inspiration on where to put things, and creating geography for the world. I messed around on a fantasy map building site and randomly built a world outline, but that's all I got. I never realized how hard it is to actually world build lol.
I've only had one session so far with my group. In the encounter I had them start as level three and were all together underneath a colosseum as they were captured and sold into slavery to entertain the masses of lower nobility families that had been pushed away into exile by a paranoid king that was in power named Hagvard evil eye.
I had them in a cage under the colosseum that was lifted using gears to move them into position on like a Ferris wheel type contraption. On top of the floor was a trap door they came through. The colosseum had 60 foot walls high with a mote that was 20 feet across and secondary walls 80 feet high behind the mote with a couple of wizards 120 feet up using wall of force to keep the masses safe. The location was on the island in the bottom left corner of the map. Essentially it's Australia. They ended up fighting some Worgs, and winning. I put them back down to get a short rest, but they decided to escape even though I made the bottom of the colosseum have 12 human guards, and the cages of animals they were going to fight in the ring. I tried to make it player proof, but of course things go off rails.
I have nothing set up beyond this and pulled all of this out of my ass the day before the session. I have no actual caste system or towns set up besides this fighting arena.
Any advice or ideas would be great for inspiration, thank you in advance!

I honestly like workouts where I get to choose, and have a choice in what I do. I usually plan them the day before according to what was sore the last session.
Basically, I choose 1-3 big compound lifts, and do 3-4 sets. Then, I build it from there by adding some isolation and stuff. Sometimes I plan the whole thing beforehand, sometimes I go with the flow and just do what my body feels good doing. For example, deadlifting felt weak as hell today, so I did lighter BB RDLs to hit the muscle in a different way that my body felt better doing.
Here's what ended up happening today for the workout, this one was relatively unplanned:
Workout (this includes actual notes from my workout journal) •Deadlift (135x8, 225x5, 315x3) 》Stopped after 315, although my 1rm should be 420, even 315 felt weak as hell today, so I stopped in the midst of the warmup. •BB RDL (135x10, 185x8, 185x8. Next time I plan to try 200 because this felt do-able) •BB Row (135x8, 155x5, 155x3)
Superset: •BB Press: 85lbsx9, 95lbsx4, 95lbsx3 (I'm weak on this lift because I don't often do it, I usually do more dips and pull-ups for my upper body) •Chinups: 8, 4, 2½, 3
Core: •2 sets of Attempted Planche Tucks. •Decline Crunches: 45lbsx20, (use heavier weight, like 65. 65x15, 65x15)
I didn't do any cardio.
Note: I do track my lifts and reps, and I also write down my workout logs. Took 1.5 minutes of rest.
The issue is, there needs to be more cardio. I guess going on a walk on the off days would be alright, or just everyday as I usually walk around to music, my cardio isn't horrendous. Though sometimes when I sleep badly and stuff I do feel winded. I think this is more due to fatigue than being cardiovascularly done.
I need to recover better tbh, I need to sleep.
Anyway, part of me wants to be able to run at least a mile and a half in like 12 minutes because I am considering seeing about the USAF (National Guard) after community College and I wanna make sure my running is locked in, I can already do the sit-ups and push-ups in the alloted time though I could stand to improve at those as well (wish I had someone to compete with for reps). I'd probably just start with a 10 minute light jog before the workout as a requirement, but I'm afraid that'd take away from my strength, but... well, they don't care about strength.
Also, I have trouble getting enough calories lately so I don't want to burn more with intense running and make it even more of a hassle for myself. It's ironic, I gained 15-20lbs in college, we'll call it the "accidental bulk" as I ate relatively healthfully but every 2 hours, lots of protein, but made mistakes when I gained the ability to drive (which seems to have actually kinda worked for adding some muscle to my frame) and then I cut it quickly. Now I'm eating maintenance. (I'm tracking my macros now to prevent anymore things like that, but I doubt it'll happen again at least for the time being because my appetite stabilized. Also, my maintenance is very high due to the physical activity I get so no need to worry about my health that much, probably.)
Anyway, I don't really know what my goals should be: •Just get stronger and try to nourish my body well, and be a fit young man. I mean, I could do this and totally just see what happens. Hell, maybe in like 10 years my physique will look amazing, or maybe I'll just look fit.) •Try to get shredded and get a six pack. (I kinda have one anyway but I have to flex my core muscles for it to be seen due to a tiny layer of fat over it, but I also kind of don't mind due to the previous goal. I could always do that in a few years when I'm more built up and less confused.) •Bulk and build more muscle. •Try to increase my endurance in calisthenics and running to see if I should actually be in the air force.
Man, I also have so many questions and confusion on goals and the first one just seems the most simple and attainable. Also, I'd be attempting to eat maintenance during that and adjusting it to my activity. (IE: I go back to Community College and move less, so I calculate my maintenance for less calories. That, or I could just keep eating the same and bulk on less activity while still training, I just have so many ideas!)
As you can see, my head is in like 20 different places and I have no idea what to do. Having someone to train me might not be a terrible idea because then I'd have some of this managed for me instead of trying to do it myself, but I don't know if I really need one.
I don't exactly know what to do. Someone recommended me to just keep training for strength and listening to my body because it seems to be the best. But part of me wants to look more asthetic, or something else.
I do actually enjoy at home bodyweight workouts but I use a weighted backpack, not just my pure bodyweight. I really have considered doing more bodyweight stuff for upper body training due to the simplicity of it. Like: weighted/unweighted pull-ups, banded push-ups, dips, chinups, archer pull-ups, core exercises, etc.
Maybe something super simplistic: Leg Day •BB Squats •Nordic Hamstring Curls •Core exercises (I know you're supposed to progressively overload these)
Optional: •Lunges or cossack squats for single leg work. (Cossacks would be good for hip mobility)
Upper Body •Dips and Pull-ups •Core exercises
I don't know, sorry about endlessly ranting. But, anyway, I do think the first goal is good because if I really try at it, I could probably transition to one of the other goals when I gain more of an idea of what I want to do. I'm too young to really know fully what I want, anyway. Also, what about the routine?
I feel like I actually have a lot of knowledge but need more direction, which... sounds like me.

chapter one

It is 6:26 in the evening. Around this time I like to pull out my journal, walk to the porthole window on my side, sit down, and write as the sun begins to set on Lisbon. My journal is an Ukiyo Grid fifty sheeter with a nurse coat white cover and black Japanese kanji that spells out うきよ グリッド (Ukiyo Grid). A wrapped bundle of four journals with technical pens were awaiting me on a walnut ash solid wood desk when I arrived at this apartment three weeks ago. Look in them and you will find entries for everyday since the beginning. This new life is so interesting to me and I find it pointless to keep thoughts bottled up inside and since I have no one to talk to, writing helps the time go by. Some days I will write for hours.
On Tuesday mornings, I attend "Participant Tapestry" from nine to ten, followed by a "Synaptic Bloom" session until half past eleven. Thursdays are dedicated to "Empathy Assimilation" cycles. From eleven to noon my task is to log learned data from my sessions into the GLiPH pad (Global Interface for Personal Handwriting).
My primary function is to serve as a healing conduit to four individuals experiencing ongoing building trauma from the 2033 earthquake that woke up the entire city while simultaneously putting seven thousand, one hundred forty-two to indefinite rest. Each of the four individuals will stay in the respective living quarters on the other side of me, for one month at a time. The first arrives in two weeks, one year to the day of the tragedy.Though, had it not been for you, I would have sat here for another two weeks waiting, alone and isolated.
I’m not sure I would classify my actions as spying because I had innocently been staring out of the window, as I always do, like any of you do, when a flutter from your direction suddenly snagged my gaze.
Peering through my porthole window, I marveled at loose papers doing backflips and pirouetting in the air before gently falling to the ground. A swaying fixture of light bulbs swayed back and forth on their cords creating dramatic shadows on the tall walls of your kitchen. One bulb had been shattered and appeared sharp like a shark's rack of teeth.
In the midst of the chaotic scene, you emerged into view through the window. You had on a mangled and loose white t-shirt that looked as though you had been in a fight. The other man with you had on a black denim jacket. For all intents and purposes, his name shall be “Jacket”.
At my computation you both stood at about the same height, however, mass wise, you two are different. Jacket’s arms were bulging even through the denim. You stood in front of each other shouting into the other’s face, both wide-armed in an attempt to make yourselves big and authoritative.
I want to know what he said that caused you to become small. Your lips came together as Jacket’s lips raged on. Your shoulders slouched forward while your neck and head dropped. Your defeated posture tells stories of past and impending loss. I want to give you a long hug. Your jet black hair was tied up and your beard was shiny and tear-sloppy.
Eventually, Jacket stopped shouting and stood in position, quiet and staring up at the swinging pendulum.
A moment later, Jacket lifted his hands upward and cradled either side of your scruffy face. As he did this he began mouthing words. I am advanced but lip reading is one thing I am not capable of.
You hastily wiped Jacket’s hands off of your face as if you had had enough. You turned away from Jacket and sat down at the table. Is this where you both had shared your meals together? You lowered your head onto the top of your hands and stared longingly out of the window.
Jacket disappeared into the expansive abyss and a second later lights illuminated under a dome stretch of skylight glass.
Shuddering breaths escaped your lips, your cheeks quivering with each sharp inhale. At one moment, you got up and began picking up and pushing in chairs with seemingly trembling hands. You began a series of anxious tasks such as stacking plates and arranging objects most-likely to ease the pain that was burning inside of you. This front row seat to the raw emotions unleashed during this conflict made for a captivating study. Your behavior is particularly intriguing, leaving me yearning to understand the story behind the pain.
With a duffle bag and a backpack in tow, Jacket came back into the dimly lit kitchen. As he struck his arm down firmly, his mouth began to run, as if he was trying to quickly make a point. With the message received yet not accepted, you paused for a moment, proceeded to pick up a small potted plant sitting on the table and chucked it with force towards the open space on the ground in between the both of you. Humiliated, hysterical and sobbing, you sat back down at the table. Jacket took one final look at you, shook his head and walked out of the room with his bags, leaving you alone to pick up the pieces and the mess strewn all over the apartment.
A second later all of the windows in your place went from illuminated to black. And just like that, the chaos had come to an end.
I simply cannot accept this ending. There has got to be more. I am helplessly glued to this apartment in the same way you are glued to yours and the memories inside of it. My desire to reach out is genuine. You need solace in this time of pain. I want to learn you and help you navigate these troubled waters. After all, empathy is born from understanding, and I genuinely wish to see you heal. The sight of you wiping away tears ignites a desire to offer comfort.Let this twenty-first day of my new life mark the first day I discovered you. I will employ this companion drone to bridge the gap between us. For now, a silent observer I will be with a presence as light and maneuverable as a hummingbird.

I've tried many things including retail and office work and the only job I've liked so far is delivering pizzas. My favorite part is being able to be in the car and listen to music and not having to put up with people's shit 24/7. I get really bored in an office environment and really stressed in retail. I figured that I like doing jobs where I get to be by myself and listen to music. The problem with doing pizzas is that the pay is low and there are no benefits. What would you suggest I do?
I thought of truck driving but most of the jobs on indeed require either really heavy lifting or stopping 300+ times a day. I want a job where I get to be in my car for at least 10 minutes at a time and don't have to lift constantly.

I am sitting in one of the disused but quite beautiful parts of the neighborhood, waiting for it to rain.
The rain has already come and gone, a light rain that left traces of dampness on the pavement – the shade of the spring day darkens, becomes real, which is a comfort because that realness, that feeling of extra substance, comes from the water cycle working the way it's supposed to.
I feel it around my nostrils, on the cheeks of my face near the eyes, like I'm a frog looking up from its pond water, which is a pleasant feeling to sashay around town with. This is the spring we all know, the moisture appearing on my skin after driving miles above the earth ten minutes earlier –
an epic plunge is what we are walking through, but it's already rising again, and let's face it – we live in a cook pot set on media, I mean medium – medium is the setting on the cook pot, which notice is more than a crock. From the frog’s point of view, it is ideal.
From our point of view, standing in the chop of the water cycle, we are soaring in the air – then minutes from now, we might be walking in the clouds, and who knows after that, but this is the context for comings and goings this mid-afternoon – this potential for levitation.
I find a broad and elegant tree stump to sit on and record the concrete. Someday we'll all have concrete recorders but today, we just have me.
The stumps are not indigenous to the property, at least I don't think so, but I'm not exactly sure why I don't think that, given that the facility that occupies the block was once probably a forest with abundant marshy places. The forest went, then some infrastructural evolution played out that upcycled into a world-class performing arts center.
Given that my art, before it is anything, is performative – watch the monkey paint words with a stick – I'm hand-in-glove with the performance of the plaza.
I am sitting in a grove of tree stumps, which automatically brings to mind entropy – we all will die someday, become handsome all-weather furniture that slowly disintegrates – but then the overwhelming pleasantness of the day causes the thought to move on, and the stumps become a moment in time that is also a cross-section of full biography, which is quite a thing to be sitting on, waiting for the rain.
The forecast, which I predict would be one of the more impressive modern achievements to the humans who lived through the ice age – just an opinion. The forecast –
I picture their faces in stunned wonder as weather prediction after weather prediction comes true. The forecast
says there is a one-hundred percent chance of rain later this afternoon, time precise to the quarter hour, but with Doppler weather radar, one can make one's own data-driven prediction about when the rain will start to the nearest few minutes.
Someday we'll wear watches that are nothing but countdown clocks ’til the next time the forecast calls for rain – when the clock reaches the nearest minute, it switches to seconds.
This broad, elegant stump I'm sitting on sets on a bed of gravel which, when it rains, can convince me it is river gravel – pick up a few of the rounded stones, give them a close look for evidence of the past. I briefly imagine
finding the remains of a sauropod, each piece of gravel containing a tiny piece of a single sauropod, which together add up to the most complete sauropod skeleton yet discovered.
The stump is all take and no give, and yet I think I prefer it to popping open a lawn chair – the imperviousness of the stump being conducive to recording the concrete.
My backside is about eighty-years wide, which is older than my age, which inspires thoughts about backing into predestination, at least where just sitting around on a fine spring day is concerned. Like a bump on a log in a way, and let's face it – the concrete doesn't get much more concrete than that. A splashing sound
comes from the page. I scan the paper like it’s the sky, and I'm waiting for an aerial firework to open, then I find the spot of rain splashed across the phrase think so – think so, is the phrase – which is followed by a second raindrop, this one hitting the word water, causing the ink to run a little.
A one-hundred percent chance – does that even make sense? I picture a barrel of rain, rolling across the plains. Perhaps we should feel lucky for being visited by such a probability – possibly years before it rolls around again.
Rain will undoubtedly fall at this time, we say to our ice-age guests, and they will hold up the one hand like it's rain, hold up the other like it's time, weigh the two sides side-by-side maybe, maybe invent that gesture where the dancer holds both palms above their heads, lifts them up and down like they're raising the roof.
Still, I'm not sure they'll really understand all those computer models, wrapping themselves around big-data projects involving sensors and rain gauges deployed across the land, starting centuries ago. Science raised the roof, we might say, at least as far as weather prediction is concerned.
I sense the rain not exactly letting up, retreat to the interior of the performing arts center after taking a few notes.
Along part of the gravel is a long puddle of water from the overnight rain, and I would need but a few fish bones or raccoon tracks to believe the whole thing was situated beside a river, the sort of gravel bed surging with snow melt earlier in the season.
This being the Midwest, higher elevations are usually metaphorical, metaphorical before they are anything else, and I think about the campus surging with graduates this past weekend, the landscape of human potential, in all directions, inundated by them.
Inside now, I see a balloon bouquet along one wall of the concourse, with gold Mylar affirmation – The Best Is Yet to Come! – floating on the end of a ribbon.
A one-hundred percent chance of rain – imagine telling all those graduates, you have a one-hundred percent chance of finding love within a fortnight. Call it a graduation gift, then imagine all those rain gauges quivering in their brackets at the thought of measurements certain to be made, collated, used to improve the algorithms that animate the global gods of rain.
At the far end of the concourse, a lady is teaching a gentleman how to dance – they aren’t touching, aren’t even facing each other – side-by-side – and I hear her call out the moves, move-by-move.
Maybe he’s an actor and she’s going over a certain bit of choreography for an upcoming production. Maybe he’s a restless spirit, and she’s teaching him the art of haunting.
That ghost forest in the gravel outside is adjacent to one of the busiest intersections on campus, and yet, turn your back to it, and it becomes just another element in the stopping and starting of the cosmos.
I could see to either end of the block from that broad, elegant tree stump I was sitting on without really being seen from the street which, along with a lush stand of grass in a nearby raised garden bed, brings to mind the wide-open prairie from centuries past.
I picture deer bounding over golden rod. I picture foxes negotiating cone flowers.
The interior of the performing arts center is designed around the premise of potential – four theaters in league with the cardinal directions, plus a blindingly white amphitheater and a low stage in the concourse itself, where they hand out complimentary spliffs and pass around community bongs during free upbeat life-affirming musical programs, attended by folks after the workday is over, plus a helping of retirees.
Okay, not grass but alcohol, but you get the point – people enjoy shindigs now and then. The lady and gentleman are out of sight, but she’s still giving direction – I can hear their back and forth somewhere around the curve in the wall,
which might stand for the passing of time. I imagine myself performing the pasodoble – no, I take it back. I imagine myself performing the pasodoble – no, I take it back! For real this time! I imagine myself destroying the pasodoble – no, god, my boot heels! The planks on the floor! I take it back!
The sun returns, so I pick up my things, head back out to that secluded space, spend a few minutes admiring the resoundingly designed program of the building.
Preformed white concrete panels are suspended twelve feet off the ground to establish the roof of the entrance. Ninety-degree angles abundantly in evidence. Brick pixelates the angled outer walls with the stuff of the earth. Ultra-high resolution, they call it around the masonic lodge.
Someone in the amphitheater is having their photo taken by a professional – everyone loves to do photo shoots there. She is wearing dark knee socks, a navy jumper and a blue bowl haircut, or maybe it’s a wig – I can’t tell from here. I picture anime or promotional material for this fine spring day.
A squirrel bounds through the grass – then poses in front of me, paws together, as though summoning oration.
A robin alights on the stone cladding of the raised beds, begins to stand exclusively on its left leg. The leg is angled under the center of mass – it’s a practiced move.
No one knows why the American robin does this – maybe it’s like bird meditation, though the memory of the American robin is so specifically extraordinary when it comes to navigation and geospecific locations that effectively, at the sensual level on up, it is living in a reality separate from our own, so who knows what meditation might mean.
They can see the magnetic fields of the earth in their eyes using a protein called cryptochrome, which reacts to magnetism. Cryptochrome – like something from the Marvel universe.
Maybe when the American robin stands on its left leg, it’s spacing out to the daytime reality of solar storms, the whole environment all aflutter with a phenomenology of waves passing around the material world.
The robin and the squirrel go their separate ways, and I feel the temperature drop – ah, me! the pasodoble! – as the next part of the front crosses campus.
A peel of thunder indicates the breaking of the sound barrier by means of electromagnetism and the displacement of gasses. Electromagnetic properties experience disequilibrium as a kind of earthquake in the sky that causes the air to vibrate in an awe-inspiring way – the sound magnetic fields make when they rearrange themselves in a gaseous atmosphere.
We are fluid dwellers, through and through, we humans and mammals and reptiles and amphibians and lichen gnawing on patches of the plaza’s concrete. Maybe from the standpoint of the atmosphere, land is just one big coral reef.
When that perfect destiny began to drop rain, the sound at first was curious, expectant – an all-squinty-eyed-and-kissy-faced sort of rain began to fall that grew into a snowy hum that seemed to have a simple song playing inside it, like someone playing a ukulele in the room next door, singing along.
The gig carries on for twenty minutes or so – an opening act – before the rain begins to march double time through the streets – barely soldiers even when they were soldiers.
Less tactic and more matador, this rain storm, and its boot heel crashes down on the planking of the still-lovely spring day. These magnetic storms are not
for war making, nor fighting bulls, nor even for entertaining that cosmic bird called the American robin. What are they for then?
American robins also configure their flight by the stars, by remembering features on the land, by creating mental maps of it all.
And they swim with both grace and endurance, as they navigate this liquid world, this concrete way of life.
In the moment, they are roosting in a tree, observing the silver magnetic waves marching through the streets. Made of what? The pasodoble! Concrete.

chapter one

It is 6:26 in the evening. Around this time I like to pull out my journal, walk to the porthole window on my side, sit down, and write as the sun begins to set on Lisbon. My journal is an Ukiyo Grid fifty sheeter with a nurse coat white cover and black Japanese kanji that spells out うきよ グリッド (Ukiyo Grid). A wrapped bundle of four journals with technical pens were awaiting me on a walnut ash solid wood desk when I arrived at this apartment three weeks ago. Look in them and you will find entries for everyday since the beginning. This new life is so interesting to me and I find it pointless to keep thoughts bottled up inside and since I have no one to talk to, writing helps the time go by. Some days I will write for hours.
On Tuesday mornings, I attend "Participant Tapestry" from nine to ten, followed by a "Synaptic Bloom" session until half past eleven. Thursdays are dedicated to "Empathy Assimilation" cycles. From eleven to noon my task is to log learned data from my sessions into the GLiPH pad (Global Interface for Personal Handwriting).
My primary function is to serve as a healing conduit to four individuals experiencing ongoing building trauma from the 2033 earthquake that woke up the entire city while simultaneously putting seven thousand, one hundred forty-two to indefinite rest. Each of the four individuals will stay in the respective living quarters on the other side of me, for one month at a time. The first arrives in two weeks, one year to the day of the tragedy.Though, had it not been for you, I would have sat here for another two weeks waiting, alone and isolated.
I’m not sure I would classify my actions as spying because I had innocently been staring out of the window, as I always do, like any of you do, when a flutter from your direction suddenly snagged my gaze.
Peering through my porthole window, I marveled at loose papers doing backflips and pirouetting in the air before gently falling to the ground. A swaying fixture of light bulbs swayed back and forth on their cords creating dramatic shadows on the tall walls of your kitchen. One bulb had been shattered and appeared sharp like a shark's rack of teeth.
In the midst of the chaotic scene, you emerged into view through the window. You had on a mangled and loose white t-shirt that looked as though you had been in a fight. The other man with you had on a black denim jacket. For all intents and purposes, his name shall be “Jacket”.
At my computation you both stood at about the same height, however, mass wise, you two are different. Jacket’s arms were bulging even through the denim. You stood in front of each other shouting into the other’s face, both wide-armed in an attempt to make yourselves big and authoritative.
I want to know what he said that caused you to become small. Your lips came together as Jacket’s lips raged on. Your shoulders slouched forward while your neck and head dropped. Your defeated posture tells stories of past and impending loss. I want to give you a long hug. Your jet black hair was tied up and your beard was shiny and tear-sloppy.
Eventually, Jacket stopped shouting and stood in position, quiet and staring up at the swinging pendulum.
A moment later, Jacket lifted his hands upward and cradled either side of your scruffy face. As he did this he began mouthing words. I am advanced but lip reading is one thing I am not capable of.
You hastily wiped Jacket’s hands off of your face as if you had had enough. You turned away from Jacket and sat down at the table. Is this where you both had shared your meals together? You lowered your head onto the top of your hands and stared longingly out of the window.
Jacket disappeared into the expansive abyss and a second later lights illuminated under a dome stretch of skylight glass.
Shuddering breaths escaped your lips, your cheeks quivering with each sharp inhale. At one moment, you got up and began picking up and pushing in chairs with seemingly trembling hands. You began a series of anxious tasks such as stacking plates and arranging objects most-likely to ease the pain that was burning inside of you. This front row seat to the raw emotions unleashed during this conflict made for a captivating study. Your behavior is particularly intriguing, leaving me yearning to understand the story behind the pain.
With a duffle bag and a backpack in tow, Jacket came back into the dimly lit kitchen. As he struck his arm down firmly, his mouth began to run, as if he was trying to quickly make a point. With the message received yet not accepted, you paused for a moment, proceeded to pick up a small potted plant sitting on the table and chucked it with force towards the open space on the ground in between the both of you. Humiliated, hysterical and sobbing, you sat back down at the table. Jacket took one final look at you, shook his head and walked out of the room with his bags, leaving you alone to pick up the pieces and the mess strewn all over the apartment.
A second later all of the windows in your place went from illuminated to black. And just like that, the chaos had come to an end.
I simply cannot accept this ending. There has got to be more. I am helplessly glued to this apartment in the same way you are glued to yours and the memories inside of it. My desire to reach out is genuine. You need solace in this time of pain. I want to learn you and help you navigate these troubled waters. After all, empathy is born from understanding, and I genuinely wish to see you heal. The sight of you wiping away tears ignites a desire to offer comfort.Let this twenty-first day of my new life mark the first day I discovered you. I will employ this companion drone to bridge the gap between us. For now, a silent observer I will be with a presence as light and maneuverable as a hummingbird.chapter one
It is 6:26 in the evening. Around this time I like to pull out my journal, walk to the porthole window on my side, sit down, and write as the sun begins to set on Lisbon. My journal is an Ukiyo Grid fifty sheeter with a nurse coat white cover and black Japanese kanji that spells out うきよ グリッド (Ukiyo Grid). A wrapped bundle of four journals with technical pens were awaiting me on a walnut ash solid wood desk when I arrived at this apartment three weeks ago. Look in them and you will find entries for everyday since the beginning. This new life is so interesting to me and I find it pointless to keep thoughts bottled up inside and since I have no one to talk to, writing helps the time go by. Some days I will write for hours.

I’d like to begin this invitation of advice or experiences by stating that what I want in life is a partner who feels like home, will always give me their genuine effort, & will love me through all of the highs, mediums, & lows of life.
I specifically want to know about any advice or things I should consider when it comes to the age gap I have with the man I’m seriously considering making a staple & serious part of my life. I (29f) met Chance (40m) 3 years ago & we have been seeing each other for a little over a year. We met at the middle school in which we both work- he’s the social worker, I’m the art teacher. When I first saw him, he looked like a meat head (he’s pretty muscular, bald, beard, wears hoodies) & I’ve always been into nerds so it never occurred to me that I’d end up attracted to him. The first year we knew each other, it was very surface level, & then, during the second year of my time at the school, I got to know him better, as I did a few coworkers I now consider close friends. This second year of friendship was also a tough period for me as I was going through a divorce from a 5 year relationship with a man who wasn’t on the same life path as me & kind of made me dislike myself just for being me (wanting kids, needing to be intrinsically motivated in my career rather than financially motivated)- basically he was type A & I am B. Anyhow, as I was processing my divorce & creating friendships, I got to know Chance better both at work & at hang outs with friends outside of work. I watched how the kids at school just flocked to him & how kind he was with everybody. He coached the basketball team, did an after school program with the SRO to help at risk kids, & often stepped in to help others with tasks that weren’t related to his job as social worker. & he always did it with a positive attitude & good sense of humor. People just LIKE him, you know? It became obvious that he was just a really good person. One day, we had a discussion about kids & how we both wanted them. He told me I’d be a great mother because of how I treat the students & I told him he’d also be a wonderful parent. & he cast his spell on me & I slowly started falling for him. I couldn’t quite figure it out. Here I was, recently divorced from a relationship that had a tremendous affect on me mentally/emotionally, & I was gaining feelings for a man who was very different from my ex, & 11 years older than me. Was I just looking for a distraction? Was I using him to boost my confidence up after it had spent so much time at all time low? Or was I simply recognizing that this man had all of the features that I’d been missing in my past relationship & maybe I should pay attention to that? I was worried that my judgement post- divorce couldn’t possibly be clear, so I expressed that I had feelings for him but had to take things very slow. I was a bit of a mess as I tried to take the initial steps to get closer to him. I’d get emotional & have somewhat of a panic attack, or I’d go through some wishy washy phases when it came to wanting to see him in general. No matter what it was, he said that he understood, he wasn’t going anywhere, & that he just wanted me to be ok. He’d always ask what he could do to help & what I needed from him to feel better. If we were kissing & he felt that I wasn’t comfortable, he’d stop. One time he could tell that I wasn’t feeling great & he cried because he thought he’d made me feel bad. Needless to say, he was always there for me & ACTUALLY cared about how I felt. As we got closer, he was always respectful, would leave me flowers on random or special occasions (like when I was in an art show that he attended, or the first day of a new semester at work), wanted to make things like holidays memorable for me (one time I specifically thought was sweet was when he decorated my place with a Christmas tree & lights because “it’s your first Christmas in your new apartment, it should be festive!”). I consistently got solid evidence that he was emotionally mature, ready for a relationship, & wanted the same things as me.
So, I thought, “why is this sweet, courteous, kind, responsible, funny man single?” I’d heard some woman at work “pick” at him about this & say “I just don’t get how you’re single!” & I honestly wondered myself. You always heard that it’s a ref flag if a man dates a woman over 10 years younger & that it’s because “women his age didn’t want him”. Well, there are a few rational explanations I could think of: 1. He’d been sexually abused by his stepsister for years as a child. He’d told me that he’d had a few relationships during his 20s & 30s, but they didn’t last long & he’d had some issues with women not dealing with his anxiety around sex well. With me, this was not an issue, really. We’d taken the physical really slow, & when one of us felt anxiety as things heated up, the other stopped & supported. After a few months, it became a non-issue & we were able to have great sex with no fear that one of us would get anxious. 2. When he was younger (childhood-20s) he was overweight. He began balding in his 20s & so he shaved his head. Maybe there weren’t a lot of women who wanted to be with the overweight, bald guy? Women can be just as shallow as men.
So, I began to try to look for any signs that maybe this man is “grooming” me or something. I looked for issues as well as green lights. How’s his family? His brother is happily married with children & Chance is close with his family, seeing them weekly. What are his friends like? I enjoy his friends. They’re nice, fun people & his best friends are in happy marriages. Does he manipulate you? No, he treats me like a princess (I’m not used to it) & tries to establish healthy relationship patterns (he always insists on a weekly date night, suggests activities together, such as me weight lifting with him & him running with me). He also hypes me up like no other- If I’m wearing a risky outfit that I love but know my mom would insult, BAM Chance is the first one to see it & his jaw drops to the floor. Always telling me how strong, sweet, & cool I am. Made me take his gloves when we went on a snowy hike & I’d forgotten mine. Just basically an endless stream of courtesy.
I have gotten a lot of evidence that this is a solid person with whom I could build a beautiful relationship & family with. Everything he’s shown me has been positive as far as communication, morals, empathy, kindness & life plans is concerned.
So… is the 11 year age gap a concern? Should I be more paranoid about why he is still single, or are my theories valid? Although he goes to the gym daily & is like a kid at heart, should I worry about his age when it comes to us potentially raising kids? He’d likely be 43-45 by the time I was ready for that.
If you have any thoughts, please let me know. Truthfully, I do have other potential options if I pursued them & I’m not afraid of being alone, but I’m feeling that I’d like to commit to a relationship.

I finished Gabriel's 10-week squat program on his app today. My back squat max before the program was 113 kg, and I hit 127 kg today. I weigh about 82 kg and have been weightlifting for 6 months. Overall, I liked the program and felt I was able to increase my PR by more than I had expected. The program was 10 weeks long, with 3 sessions a week, and each session took me around 2 hours to complete.
If you know Gabriel, then you know he loves volume. There were a lot of sets and reps, and there was a lot of waving in terms of load. I found the program to be challenging, and I even missed a couple of reps/sets along the way. But overall, it seemed pretty doable, and I never felt overwhelmed. I really liked the balance between all the exercises. Each session spent an equal amount of time on the classic lifts, back squats, and accessories. For every set and rep in the squats, there was an equal amount of work in accessories and other strength exercises like pulls and presses.
My favorite thing about the program was that it felt like it was building my whole body rather than just my quads. With the amount of work on hamstrings, lower back, and upper back, I always felt that the rest of my body was keeping up with my quads, and this focus on general strength kept me relatively injury-free. The biggest gain I noticed was not the 1RM strength but more the work capacity of my legs and the speed/rhythm of my squats. If I go back and watch my videos, I can see that the speed of my squats stayed relatively the same from 50% up to 90%+. I also felt that I had gotten much more explosive and started developing that signature Gabriel gunshot sound in my snatches and clean and jerks.
Regarding the Super Weightlifting app, I liked its build and functionality and felt all my needs were met. There is also a section in the app where you can post your lifting videos for form checks. I was able to get responses from Gabriel in less than 24 hours, even when he was traveling, and he would generally answer any follow-up questions on the same night. However, I feel you might have a different experience depending on your time zone.
All in all, I am happy with my progress, and I felt it was worth the money I paid. I will now be trying out his 5-day-a-week weightlifting program and probably do another squat cycle after that.

I wanted to ask y’all what are some good budget rock slider, skid plates, and racks. I’m gonna start building up my car, but I’ll get to a lift later. I’m gonna invest in some good tires and wheels, but I’m researching the racks and stuff since I essentially have a blank canvas to work with. I’m getting a buddy’s old roof tent from their 05 but other than that all I’ve got is a bike rack. I’ll be doing overlanding more than heavy off road. It’s a travel car for camping and other things like that. Any advise?

I recently hired a younger guy to pressure wash my driveway and pool area. Nice kid, he wasn’t the cheapest quote but I chose him because he was the most responsive and easiest to communicate with. He has an older truck and an older portable commercial pressure washer that he struggles to get in and out of the bed. We were talking for a while after and he mentioned that he wants to eventually either buy or build a pressure washing trailer with a long hose reel so he doesn’t have to lug the portable one around. It’s not cheap, a nice, professional setup is 10k+ and then he has the issue of storing it as well.
After he left, I started thinking about it. I have the funds for a trailer. I have a secure place to store it. The kid has the skills, already has a website and FB page, dozens of reviews on both FB and google, and seems to be booked about a week out. What if I offered some sort of partnership? Bigger, heavier duty equipment also means he can take on bigger jobs and commercial work. It seems like something that can be scaled if it goes well.
Am I crazy for considering something like this or is this something that people do? I haven’t talk to him about it, for all I know, he might have zero interest in a partnership. But if he’s interested, I’m assuming a lawyer, then accountant would be the next steps? I have zero experience is pressure washing or running a business, he’s being doing this on his own for about 2 years now.

I wanted to share what my first month in business has taught me about mobile food vending businesses. Especially wanted to throw this out there for all those who are looking into mobile food businesses or just starting.
Last month I started a food stand, I got permitted, licensed and bought all the equipment plus a hauling trailer. My business partner and I have spent about 18k to start and fund ourselves this first month (food, fees, supplies, equipment, etc.). We both knew that everything would be a loss at first. We also both have full time jobs so this is a side thing and not a primary source of income. We have worked every weekend at markets for the past month. We made about 5k. It's been tough. Here's some stuff we have learned so far.
Food stands are only a way to make money seasonally where we live. We live in WA and the past month showed us how little people go out in a freezing cold rain. Can't blame them tho. So, before thinking about opening one, be realistic about how long you can stay in business in the year.
No matter how good your food is, if you are not at the right location you will not make money!! The location is very important. If you are in a market that is oversaturated with the same food as you, people are less likely to give the new person a try.
You will not make money for sometime. You cannot rely on this for income at the beginning. This is a money pit in the beginning. Focus on building a following.
Get some socials up and logo designs, business cards, ways of connecting with people. Get in fb groups for food trucks and pop ups. You literally have to be a salesperson at first to get people to give you a try. BANNERS with pictures of your food! People eat with their eyes.
If your food is good enough after that one try they will hooked. This is what we have experienced. But we literally had to convince people to just try us. Giving samples etc. Once they tried our food, they came back everyday we were open, sometimes multiple times a day.
Your food matters. It's the representation of you and your business. Don't put mediocre shit out there, they will not come back. Give samples. People love that.
Keep the menu small, especially at first until you have mastered the initial menu.
Do not come into this thinking your gonna be making good money at first because you won't. You will give a lot of time and money for no return for a while.
Lastly, I am sure next month will bring forth more lessons/challenges to learn. I remind myself to stay optimistic because there are times where you question it all. It's gonna take time. More than I had initially anticipated. But that's how it is.

I’m going to try to start from the beginning and not leave a lot out and hopefully I get some feedback on what to do or how I can move forward with my situation.
So me and my girlfriend me(22m) her (24f) have been dating for almost 2 years and have a 3 month old daughter. Our relationship was perfect in the beginning couldn’t complain about anything she was perfect we were perfect. Well a couple months into our relationship I noticed her getting distant and not wanting to cuddle or touch me in general(this was before she was pregnant) so I brought it up to her and she said she just doesn’t like physical touch, but in the beginning it was like she couldn’t get her hands off me and I love physical touch or just being in the same vicinity as her so I was clueless as to why all of a sudden she didn’t want to touch or even hug me anymore. When we first started dating I moved in her apartment and she was almost 2 months behind in rent, she was a 1099 self employed cna, well her shifts kept getting denied and she didn’t have money to pay for rent or any bills, so I took some money out of my saving and helped heus out and got us back on our feet and in a good position atleast I had thought so, she finally found a job that was full time and it was a cna job but she quit after 2 days because she didn’t like it, meanwhile I was working a low paying job and couldn’t pay all our bills by myself and I asked her on more than one occasion to try and get a job that way she could help out and she finally got a job and she helped for maybe one month but she didn’t work, she cheated the system and would clock in then come home and then drive back to work before her shift was supposed to end and clock out and would forge a signature on paperwork to get paid, she did this for maybe 2 weeks before they took the gig down, she didn’t get into trouble but she was now out of a job. Well shortly afterwards we found out she was pregnant and this is when I would beg her to get a job. I ended up getting hurt at work and lost my job, so now we were both jobless and near eviction. We got evicted from our apartment and we lied and somehow got a bigger apartment than our old one and of course was more expensive. I asked her multiple times to get a job and she couldn’t/wouldn’t. She used the excuse “high risk pregnancy” which she wasn’t at all high risk, I went to every appointment with her and held her hand the whole way but I wasn’t being rude or mean to her because however she felt the baby felt aswell(least that’s what I thought). So I got job after job each job being a better paying job and tried to support the 2 of us with my daughter on the way. Well I eventually got a decent job and my girlfriend was still jobless and she decided on her own to sell her car to help pay rent/bills because we were behind 2 months again, she paid one month and used the rest of the money roughly $2,000 on our daughters nursery and small things for herself. She was 9months pregnant and we had to move back into my parents house, I had a very unreliable truck at the time and used it to move all our stuff in 19 trips with each trip being 2hr drives, me being the only one to lift things because she was pregnant, we finally got everything settled and my daughter was born shortly after that. I ended up getting a very good job where we used to live an hour away, and I needed a more reliable vehicle to get back and forth to work and my daughters appointments. Tried finding my girlfriend a vehicle but how the whole situation at the dealership went was not how I expected nor how I wanted but I ended up getting a truck. It’s more reliable than my other one, anyways she was upset I didn’t get her a vehicle and constantly blames me for her having to sell her car. We are always arguing about money/my truck/my job/still not getting any attention from her physically. I slept on our couch and the floor in our bedroom for 8months in total. She co slept with our daughter for the longest and didn’t want me on the bed because I am a heavy sleeper, understandable. Didn’t argue about it but now we sleep together same bed and we still don’t cuddle or touch each other in general. I love this girl I really do but she makes it so difficult because I crave this physical affection and I don’t receive it so I have an attitude a lot, I still do everything she asks but I do it with an attitude. Im finally to a point where I think about what life would be like without her and catch myself thinking about this a lot. I hate that I do because deep down I just want to love this girl with everything in me but she makes it so hard and I’m stuck wondering if things will get better if I stay or if I should leave. So my question is what should I do ?
P.s. she won’t let my mother hold our daughter because the stories I have told my girlfriend from when I was growing up but my mother has taken responsibility for her actions and has done better but my girlfriend doesn’t care. My mom has come to terms she will never know her granddaughter and they live in the same house…. There’s a lot more stuff that could be said but I’m leaving somethings out. but i don’t think this post will even get any attention if it does I’ll give the full story from start till now.

I’ve lost a lot of weight over the last couple years and I’m really happy with my progress. My current body fat percentage is about 22% (according to DEXA scan). I want to lose some more fat and try to get my body fat percentage around 14-16% cause I have a little bit of extra fat around my stomach and thighs. However, I also want to build muscle. Should I stay in a deficit and lift weights while in the deficit then when I get down to where I want to be do a bulk? Or should I just go ahead and try to build muscle at maintenance? Cause I’m afraid I’ll lose all this extra fat then when I get ready to eat more and build muscle I’ll just gain all the fat back.
What would be the best choice?

Personally I have ideas for both if they decided to do a reboot I'd have the first 2 seasons combined into 1 as Season 1 was just finding its footing and its only in season 2 we start seeing the starting if a linear plotline like with the key the caves etc...
So I'd have season 1 end where season 2 ends combine a few essential plotlines into episodes and whatnot have the twister situation/ending for season 1 be the mid-season finale.
I'd also introduce Lois a lot earlier I'd have her be introduced maybe not episode 1 let them build up the essential characters like Clark, Jonathan, Martha, Chloe, Pete, Lex and Lionel and anyone else.
Then start an episode set in Metropolis woth Lois being the rebellious teenage daughter doing a petty crime like Graffiti or Shop lifting then running from the cops only to get caught and her father is called in and as punishment sends her to live with her Cousin this episode could be episode 5 or maybe even 6 or if you really pushed it maybe episode 14 after the resolution of the mid-season finale.
We could have episodes of Lois resisting falling into the comfort of the Small Town vibe but eventually after hanging out with Clark, Chloe, and Pete at the torch she gets roped into writing for the Torch and starts her on her journey from rebellious daughter to Ace Reporter.
She amd Clark are Chloe's feet on the ground, Pete acts as her in with the football players on something amd she acts as the info gatherer and hacker.
I think it would also set up Chloe's "Death" really well in season 4 so Lois can have been investigating since her supposed death and despite the general getting in her way she keeps digging and suddenly Clark shows up again and strange things start happening again and together after he regains his memory he helps her.
I would also have Lana and Clark get together a lot sooner or if not I'd wrap up their relationship sooner like have her leave that video like she does in the original series or actually kill her off eother one so that Clark and Lois can build their relationship it almost felt like thr Clark and Lana show by how long they dragged their relationship on for.
One other addition to this hyperthetical reboot I'd do is have Clark wear his Superman Suit a lot sooner and get him the ability to fly I probably would've had that ability after his rebirth like in the original series when he goes searching for the stones in Season 4 Episode 1 as Kal-El even after he regains his true self I'd have Clark gain the ability to fly.
That's all I can think that I'd change of the reboot maybe have more people find out his secret sooner as the amount of times he tip toes around goes to tell people butbthen changes his mind was really annoying so maybe tell Pete in Season 1 instead of Season 2.
Have Clark tell Chloe and Lois instead of then figuring it out. I'd also have while he hides the truth about his abilities from Lex I'd have that he does give certain truths like the fact he can read the symbols and whatnot he could even come up with lies like how he spent the time between season 3 and 4 studying the writinfs and discovered a pattern and now he can read the symbols.
Or something like that but now for my idea if they ever revived the series ckntinueing where they left off.
Depending ifnthey decided to do another season or make it a movie depends first off I'd have them make the comics canon for those who don't know they did a season 11 comic series a lot of shows did this back in the day as a way to keep the series going without the budget or slot for another season Charmed is another who did this.
But in the Season 11 Comics they also brought in some of the more iconic characters like Batman so ifnit was a sequel season I'd have them turn the comics into episodes maybe expanding them a bit to make them full episodes but I'd have the main antagonist be Darkside and have the final episodes be like a Smallville Version of the movie Justice League War.
I'd also have the actual character appear not be like a weird smoke cloud and have him looking for the Anti-Life Equation like he does in most versions if the character.
If it was a sequel movie I'd probably do the same thing only skim past unimportant plotpoints to build the new Justice League team with Oliver obviously but then bring Barry Allen and we learn that when Bart ran away from home he didn't realise he travelled back in time.
But yeah these are just some of my ideas how would you do things if you were given the power to revive Smallville and hownwould you go about it Reboot or Sequel?