Air, shelter, water, and food, all essentials of life we take for granted. The gratitude of being alive,
smothered by emotional baggage. Just a bunch of pill induced zombies, riddled by life’s perplexities. Not
me, not any more at least. No, now I wake up every day reborn with a newly discovered purpose in life,
thanks to, him.
Most would be emotionally devastated and seek long term therapy, after what I had endured.
Most would need to be heavily medicated, to calm their anxiety of the fear he would return. No, not me,
the person I once was, is now dead. Suffocated, frozen, dehydrated, and starved out of me. Who I was
perished, and I am grateful. I am offering you the same, but before we get started, let me explain how I
arrived at this place of serenity.
The night was the same as always. I had just finished gorging myself on junk food while binge
watching a reality show. Empty bottles of soda surrounded me as I surfed the streaming networks.
Knowing my weight was getting out of control, I still managed to finish off the bag of greasy potato
chips. My bottles of meds sat on the end table waiting for me. Depression, anxiety, stomach, and heart
pills all courtesy of the negligence of my life choices. One by one I swallowed the antidotes of a better
me. Yet, there never seemed to be a stronger version of myself, no matter how many pills I ingested.
Falling asleep, I told myself tomorrow would be different. Tomorrow I will try harder. As I drifted
off to sleep, I felt a sting in my neck, only waking up for a few seconds. My eyes opened just enough to
see him standing over me. Fighting to stay awake, my eyes latched closed, and I fell into the darkness.
Upon awaking, I could hear sounds of mumbles surrounding me. Feeling heavy and disoriented, I
managed to flicker my eyelids. As the minutes passed, my surroundings became more lucid. The foul
stench of pig shit singed my nose hairs. Dust from old haybales stimulated my sense of smell, inducing a
sneeze. An unimaginable pain coursed through my mouth. Still dazed and confused, I heard a voice say,
"we can't have that, now, can we?". Once again, I felt a sting in my neck, causing me to drift out of
reality.
"Wake up", I heard as I came to, "we need to get started". Started with what, I tried to ask. Yet,
my mouth wouldn't open. Tranquilized still, I thought maybe my brain just wasn't cooperating with my
body. Flexing my jaw, I tried again to speak, it was useless. All I could do was mumble. My words were
nothing more than muffled grunts behind a padded wall.
Looking around, I could see I was not alone. Vision blurry, I still managed to make out a large
silhouette of a man sitting in front of me holding a cutting needle and thread. He then placed the needle
on a barrel and stood up. Whistling, "The Sun will come out tomorrow", I began to look around. There were other people with us. Including myself, all tied to chairs and mouths sewn shut. Three of us were men. The fourth was a woman in her
mid-forties. She was crying and moaning uncontrollably. Mucus ran down her face dripping from her
chin. Trying to console her, I batted my eyes. It was all I could do without having the use of my mouth
and arms.
The injection he had no doughtily given me, had worn off. Like the woman, I found myself in panic
mode. My heart raced fast. I thought I would have a heart attack. Wanting to scream, I
couldn't. Wanting to run but I was incapacitated. Fighting my way out, entered my mind, but how? How,
with my hands bound behind my back. Besides, I wasn't a fighter, and the man was massive. He would
be very intimidating under any circumstance. His raggedy hair was sandy blonde with a mixture of gray.
Deep wrinkles hid behind a handlebar mustache, which stretched across his face. Thick eyebrows sat
untamed above his devilish eyes. Watching him, I tried not to make eye contact. I looked everywhere,
other than at him. The other two men looked as frightened as me. One man, the bigger one, had tears
but made no sounds. The other man was a very frail older man. He shifted side to side as he tried yelling
from behind his fastened lips. His arms bared scars of that of a junkie. His body, covered in scabs.
Cautiously, I looked around. A rusty old plow sat in the corner next to some feed sacks. A saddle
lay across an old broken table. Two horses stood quietly behind their stall door. I could see rays of light
shine through the cracks between the boards. It was daylight, knowing that gave me comfort somehow.
The barn was dusty, and as painful as it would be, I hoped I would sneeze again. At least then I could
scream. Abruptly the man stopped whistling and spoke.
Your mouths are bound together so that I cannot hear you. People talk too much, making the
world noisy. All loud with pathetic excuses of their weaknesses. I am not going to kill you. Your life is in
your own hands. Up to this point, you have wasted your life hiding behind your addictions. Cowering
and leaning on crutches of life’s temptations. I am here to save you from yourselves.
The rule of three is simple. You can survive three minutes without air, three hours without
shelter, three days without water, and three weeks without food. If you truly desire to live, then you will
triumph. If not, you will perish. I am here to help you unpack your emotional baggage. Air, the very
breath you breathe, you have taken for granted. So, please slow your breathing and relax. We are about
to begin.
While you were sleeping, I provided you with adequate fluids and nutrition. I cannot have you
starting off, on an empty tank. I want to be as fair as possible and make this a pleasant experience.
Though, I warn you it will not be easy, and you will have to dig deep within yourselves.
The burly man began whistling once again. He placed an egg timer on a barrel, grabbed a plastic
bag and spoke. You can survive three minutes with no air. Do you have the desire and strength to want
to live? For you, I truly hope so.
Standing behind the heavier man he turned the timer and then placed the plastic bag over his
head. The man jerked in his chair, thrashing about. One minute, he said. The man still moving wildly.
Two minutes, almost there just hold on. Three minutes he announced, ripping the bag from the head of
the now motionless man. “Oh dear, I guess he did not have what it takes, next”. My heart raced even
faster as he stood next to the now inconsolable woman. I would be after her. I had to slow my breathing
if I were to live. Picking up another bag, he stood behind her.
The air went in and out her nose as she hyperventilated. “There, there, I’m not going to hurt you”,
he said, as he patted her on the shoulders. “Three minutes is a miniature amount of time. I wish you the
very best.” Her legs kicked out lunging back and forth. Her muffled shrieks filled the barn. “Are you
ready?” He then reset the timer. Fearing for my own life, I turned my head and concentrated on my
breathing. Trying hard to block her out, I went to another place in my head. As hard as it was, I imagined
I was calm and at peace lying on a sandy shore. Desperately, I wanted to cover my ears. Her loud cries
soon became small whimpers. Then to gurgles as she choked on her own vomit. Turning my head back
towards her, I could see her convulsing as life left her body. “Not quite a minute, what a shame”, he
said.
Thinking back to when I was a child, and held my breath under water, outlasting my brother.
Back then, holding my breath was easy for me and I always won. Being in my mid-thirties, I wasn’t a
child any longer. Could I beat this, I questioned. Unlike the woman next to me, who reeked of tobacco, I
didn’t smoke. My chances were greater than those who came before me.
Excepting the inevitable, I practiced my anxiety exercises my therapist had taught me. Four, four,
four, inhale hold, exhale hold. If I panic, I will surely suffocate, I told myself. The other man was calmer
now and followed my lead. Our eyes locked on to one another as we breathed. “Very good, that is what
I want to see, a thirst for life, the will to live.”
Picking up a bag, he then stood behind me. I took a deep breath as he turned the timer. I felt the
panic trying to set in, but I pushed it deep down. Oddly enough, the tune he’d been whistling popped
into my head. “The sun will come out tomorrow”, played as the bag was put over my head. “So, you got
to hang on ‘til tomorrow.” Not wanting to see the blurred images through the bag, I closed my eyes. I
just kept humming the tune in my head. “One minute”, he said. Getting more difficult to hold my breath,
I could feel my heart beating faster and my blood pressure rising. The tune still reeling in my head,
“tomorrow, tomorrow, I love you tomorrow”. “Two minutes”. I can do this, I’m almost there, but my
mind was getting foggy, and my chest tightened. My muscles tensed up as I felt my existence dwindle
away. The tune that kept me going had faded away somewhere deep into my brain. Hungry for air, I
started scratching my hands behind my back. I was going to die. Tomorrow, tomorrow, I managed to
think one last time. “Three Minutes”!
Air rushed through my nose, as I clung to the remaining life I had. It was the greatest feeling just
being able to breathe. I’d made it, I had beat him, I was alive. “Congratulations, you did well”. “Breath
and continue to appreciate the gift, I have given you”.
Tears rushed down my cheeks, as I sat watching the man set the stage for the last occupant. As
sympathetic as I was, I was overwhelmed too just be alive. Still fighting my anxiety, I closed my eyes,
four, four, four. Sounds of distress and faint scuffling could be heard, yet I refused to open my eyes.
Three minutes passed quickly. “We have another fighter, outstanding.” Opening my eyes, I seen that the
other man had also survived. “Two out of three, I wished it faired better.” “It is a pity they perished, yet
the pigs will eat well.” “Nothing should ever go to waste”. “Their carcasses are a valuable resource.” I
am thankful for their contribution.”
“I will let you rest up.” The next gift, is that of shelter.” “People of the world scratch and claw to
have bigger dwellings of that of their neighbor.” Never being thankful of the shelters warmth when it is
cold.” “Not a second thought about the materials taken from the earth to provide that comfort.” “I will
teach you to not care about the size or the looks. You won’t care if it’s a barn or a house made of sticks.
You’ll learn to be content as it shelters you from the storm.
Not understanding what was coming next, I tried thinking of ways to escape. Wringing my hands
together, I tried loosening the rope. He had his back turned removing the bodies from the chairs. Yet
somehow he still managed to catch on to what I was doing. “That’s a double sheet bend knot.” Try as
you might, you will not loosen or untie it.” “Yet I commend you on your perseverance.” “If you escape,
you will not learn the valuable lesson I am trying to teach you.” “Sit and be patient, like I told you
before, I’m not going to kill you.”
He was right. The more I tried twisting my wrists, the tighter the rope became making them bleed
and burn. “Why was he doing this and why me”, I wanted to ask. The inside of my mouth was so dry,
and I was thirsty. All I could think about was water to wash out the metallic taste left from the wounds
of my lips. Making eye contact with the other man, I wondered if he was as thirsty as I. “The storm will
be here soon, and we can continue.”, he said as he removed a hacksaw hanging from the barn wall.
We watched as the man carried on as if he’d done this before. He laid the saw across a table.
Sweat dripped from my head as I panicked. What was he going to do to us? I thought. Do not worry, this
saw is not for you, he said as he placed the woman’s body on the table. He then began to dismember
her legs. He continued to hack through the bodies throughout the day. He would casually take breaks
between the removal of the body parts. After he was done, he used a rusty old wheel barrel to take the
parts out of the barn. He kept his word. I could hear the pigs happily squealing as he fed them.
The light that had previously comforted me dwindled away as darkness approached. As frightened
as I felt, all I could think about was water. “It is time”, he said as he wiped sweat from his brow. “I will
untie your arms so you can move freely. I encourage you to move as much as possible to keep the blood
circulating. Frostbite and hypothermia are inevitable if you let yourself settle. You can wear the clothes
you have on, but nothing more.
The barn was heated with an old wood stove. Our captor had fed it wood throughout the day. Yet
the wind from the storm outside seeped through the cracks. A chill came over me, fearing what was
next. The four technique no longer working. He then placed a makeshift collar around our necks.
Connected to the collar was a chain. After untying the ropes from behind our backs he told us to stand.
Fearing what he would do, I did what he told me.
He then unlatched the wooden brace holding the barn doors shut, unveiling winter’s wrath.
Weather in Michigan was unpredictable and harsh at times. That night was no different. The wind
bustled through the doors as we all stood staring into the night. Snow was falling rapidly and had quickly
begun accumulating. “Tonight’s storm is only a mild one but will last a few hours.” “Having your mouths
bound is a positive.” “It will protect your lungs.” Your heart rate will lower the less you move so keep
moving to boost your circulation.” “You will have to endure three hours in the weather.” “This trial is
brutal, I know but if your life is precious then you will improvise, adapt, and overcome.
He then led us by the chains out of the barn and into a wooden pen. It didn’t have a roof but was
too tall to climb over. “I know you must be thirsty, but if you try and eat the snow you will only amplify
dehydration and hypothermia.” He then removed the collars and locked the door. As he walked away in
his rabbit fur coat, he turned and once again said, “Do you have the desire to live, for you I truly hope
so.”
Frantically I surveyed the pen looking for a way out. The enclosure was made of old pallets, thin
boards, and cattle fence. It was sturdy enough to keep us in but not the wind out. It must have been
about twelve feet wide by twenty-four feet long. Rubbing my hands along the gaps, I felt something
warm run down my fingers. I had sliced my hand along the inside of one of the pallets. He had secured
razor blades and sharp nails from the inside to keep us from climbing out. Even if we were able to make
it to the top, we wouldn’t be able to climb over the razor wire that spiraled along the perimeter.
More frantic than I, the other man ran back and forth. He was shaking and sweating profusely. How
could he be sweating in this weather, I thought. On the other hand, I had begun to shiver. My feet had
already begun to tingle. Wearing only gym shorts, socks, and a t-shirt, I knew I must keep moving. The
other man was more fortunate than I. He was wearing pajama bottoms, socks and a hoodie. At least he
had a layer to break the wind.
The snow was dry and easy to move. Thinking maybe we could get out from the bottom. I began
moving the snow with my hands. As I moved it, I motioned for the other man to help. My attempts to
get his attention went unnoticed. He had found a nail long enough to cut through the stiches in his
mouth. Watching him, I debated on doing it myself. Though I thought of the burly man and his hacksaw.
Deciding it was best to keep my lips bound, I watched him saw through his. He yelled in agony as blood
dripped from his lips. Be quiet, I wanted to tell him, he’ll hear you.
When the last stitch broke the man dropped to his knees gasping and crying. He then stood up,
removed himself from his pants, and began urinating in the snow. “I’m Evan”, he said shivering and still
covering the white snow yellow. His urine smelled foul as the wind carried the smell. Not being able to
talk, I used a stick to spell out my name. Letter by letter, I spelled it out, Liam. He didn’t acknowledge
what I had written. He didn’t seem to care about what my name was.
Bending over he began to eat the yellow snow. Then pulling up his sleeves, he did something that
made my stomach churn. He picked off the scabs from his arms and started sucking on them. I now
understood he was detoxing and was trying to get a fix from the meth that had exited his body. I had a
cousin in jail once, who had described this same behavior from the inside. After doing this for a few
minutes he then spoke. Stuttering out his words, “I know it’s disgusting, but it is what it is.” “Now how
we gonna get out of this here, Liam. No matter what he was or what he spoke, it was comforting to hear
him speak to me.
Not knowing how to get out I just started moving. Shaking my head and still shivering, I began to
do jumping jacks. There wasn’t a way out and I was so cold. Knowing that I had to keep moving I
continued. I knew that if I didn’t move, my heart would slow and eventually stop. “You gonna listen to
that Behemoth or ya gonna try and help me find a way out?” Stopping, I once again tried looking from
the bottom. He looked for a way to climb over. Neither of us found a way to escape. Both of us,
shivering we stopped looking.
As we huddled together in the corner, a voice came from a speaker. “One hour has passed, two
hours remain.” Your lust for drugs trumps your lust to live.” “It will be your demise.” He’d seen, he’s
watching us, I thought. Not wanting to die, I began running in circles. The pain was excruciating. Every
step I took was like stepping on needles. My nose felt like it would break off.
“It’s no use, we’re gonna die, Evan said as he plopped on the ground. Using my arms, I motioned
for him to get up, but he refused. He sat in the corner with his teeth chattering and shoulders shaking.
While Evan sat, I continued. Running from one end to the other, tears freezing as they plummeted from
my eyes. As I ran, I tripped over something that caught my attention. It was a stack of a few boards
hidden under the snow. Uncovering them I counted them out in my head. There were several I dug out. I
crafted a fort in my head. We could use the wood for a shelter. Once again, I motioned for Evan to help.
Evan didn’t speak or move. “Two hours”, I heard as a voice projected from a hidden box.
Quickly I stumbled to Evan, shaking him. Tears ran down my cheeks as I faced the truth. I was
alone. Evan’s inability to try had snuffed out his life. He was dead. Time seemed to stand still in that
moment. Looking at his lifeless body, I realized he wasn’t a frail old man. He in fact was my age. The
drugs just made him look old. My sadness for him abandoned me to be replaced with anger. He should
have tried harder. I was now alone. He had left me alone.
Feeling numb and secluded, I wanted to give up. There wasn’t much fight left in me, yet
something in me snapped. I didn’t want to die. Ripping my wet clothes off, I threw them to the ground.
Trying to keep my temperature above freezing, I jumped and staggered in the snow. Laying Evan’s body
flat on the ground, I thought I would use it as a warm layer between me and the ground. One board at a
time, leaned them over Evan’s body and up against the pen, making an ominous clubhouse. Shivering
and naked, I crawled inside and laid on Evan’s lifeless body.
No longer having the strength to move, I lay crying. In the last hour I replayed my life. If only I had
another chance to do it all over again. If only I thought as my eyes closed. The door then opened, “Three
hours”. “Stand up.”, he said as he wrapped a fur coat around my frigid body. ”Come on, you have passed
but you are not out of the woods yet.” Replacing the collar around my neck he then led me back into the
barn.
“I have prepared a warm bath for you.” He then helped me lift my legs over a galvanized water
trough. “There, there”, he said, “Just sit and let the bath warm your blood. The pain of prickly needles
washed over my body as the numbness dwindled. Fading in and out, I watched him carefully remove a
stockpot from the stove. He poured the water from the pot over my head. “Just relax, you should be
proud of yourself.” “You have outlasted all who came before you.” “You’re a fighter and you value your
life. I watched as he warmed pot after pot, continuously pouring them over me.
“I will have to give you warm fluids intravenously.” “Try to stand”, he said as he lifted me up and
out of the trough. He then dried my body with a towel. After he dressed me in dry clothing, he led me to
a makeshift bedroom converted from a stall.
As he assisted me into the bed, I noticed a tray with medical instruments on it. What were they
for I wondered, but to tired to care anymore. He then placed the I.V. needle in my arm and covered me
up. “Rest up and sleep while I deal with the frostbite.” Before I was able to think about what he had just
said, I went out.
Waking up, I was no longer cold. The shivering and pain from the night before gone yet replaced
with new discomfort. My hands, feet, face, and head all pulsing. Slowly, I removed the blanket with my
bandaged hands to see my feet. Both were wrapped in bandages. Looking over my entire body, I
reached for my face. It was also bandaged. I could feel that my ears and nose were missing. “I know this
must be shocking to you, but it had to be.” “You had deep frostbite in your fingers, toes, ears and nose.
They had to be amputated. “I have sealed off the wounds and have given you antibiotics to fight off
infection.” “Be grateful your alive.”
“You are very ambitious, and I want to reward you for your success. “If you can continue to
cooperate, I will remove the stitches from your lips. “Don’t speak unless I ask you to.” “Can you give me
word that you can stay quiet?” I nodded in agreement.
As promised, he removed the sutures from my lips. Handing me a tin cup of water, he told me to
drink. Words can’t express how refreshing the first sip was. Not being able to control myself, I gulped
down the entire cup. Handing the cup back to him I managed to mumble, “more?” Violently, he struck
me in the face and stood up. “More, more more”, he yelled as he paced the floor. “Always wanting
more!” “You should have savored every last drop rather than gulping it down like a pig at a trough.”
“You have reached your third trial.” “Water is the source of all life and you will learn to appreciate it. Do
you have the desire to live?” “For you, I truly hope so.”
Locking the door behind him, he left the room. Feeling relief from his absence, I took a deep
breath. Concentrating on the air that went in and out my lungs, I was thankful to be alive. It had been a
couple of days since I was able to breathe through my mouth. I felt happiness and gratitude to just be
able to breathe. The blanket and bed kept me warm from the cold that seeped through the barn walls.
Feling relieved, I felt safe for that minute. I pulled the blanket up under my chin and just lived in the
moment. Looking for ways to escape no longer crossed my mind. Still fearful of the man, yet I felt a
strange feeling of gratitude toward him.
Mixed emotions danced around inside of me as I lay. Thinking of the others that were with me, I
pitied them. Had they truly wanted to survive, they would be alive. Had they fought harder, they would
have won against his trials. My sympathy for them abandoned my thoughts, replaced with
disappointment. Questioning my mental state, I laid wondering if I’d gone mad. How could I sympathize
with a man who had essentially tortured me. How could I be thankful to a killer, I wondered. As
comfortable as I was, I was thirsty. Three days was a long time to go without water. Knowing this, I
closed my eyes to try to sleep through it.
A familiar tune whistled through the cracks of the wall. My eyes blurry from crust, I wiped it away
with my bandaged hand. Curious, I tried peeking through a hole in a board. Seeing the two horses in the
next stall brought back anxiety from the first trial. Sounds of mumbling could be heard. Listening
intensely, I realized he had more victims. Wanting to scream out to them to calm their breathing, I said
nothing. Fearful he would kill me if I spoke. Though I didn’t have to. He was telling them to be calm and
they would live. If only they would listen, they could live. One after another perished throughout the
ordeal. Once again mixed emotions of sympathy and anger fought within me. I slammed my hand
against the stall boards. Why am I angry at them, I questioned myself. Hearing the distinct sound of the
hacksaw cutting through the bodies, I became sick. I crawled back in the bed and covered my head.
“Wake up, you have rested enough.” Leading me into the room where the bodies were, he
motioned for me to pick the parts up. “I will cut the meat and you will load it up.” “Do you
understand?”, he asked. I nodded yes and began putting the severed limbs in the wheelbarrow.
“Take it out back to the pigs.” “I trust you won’t try to run.” You will not get very far in your
condition and the weather” He was right, still bandaged and weak I knew I would freeze. Reluctantly I
put a arm, leg, and head in the wheelbarrow.
Once again, the cold made me shiver as I treaded through the snow. The night was calm. The
moon shined down on the solar panels that lined the buildings. I was on some sort of homestead.
Nearing the structure that housed the pigs, I cringed at the thought of feeding them. The squealing led
me to the hog house. Opening the door and entering, I gasped in horror. Piles of bones lay everywhere
within the house. The pigs squealed in delight as I tossed the body parts to them. The smell was pungent
and took my breath away. Not being able to hold back, I vomited the only liquids I had in me. After
unloading my delivery, I left to retrieve another load. Feet still bandaged, and I was cold, the thought of
running left my mind. Yearning for the warm bed, I trudged my way back to the barn. This went on
throughout the night.
“Almost done, this is the last of it.”, he said as he cut through a torso of a woman. “You have done
well, and I am proud of you.” “I know your cold and must be thirsty.” Yet, you still have forty-eight hours
left until you can replenish your thirst. “Keep motivated and you will triumph over your it” After the last
load was completed, he led me to the bed and rebandaged my wounds. Curiously looking down at my
severed toes, I seen I was missing five of them. The same as he bandaged my hands. I was four less
fingers. Two were gone from each hand.
My stomach grumbled as I tossed and turned. All I could think about was water and food. I
eventually passed out from the nights work. Waking up, I felt disoriented and weak. The hunger for food
and water still consuming my thoughts. “Twenty-Four hours left”, his voice said from outside the stall.
“Get up, I have more work for you.” “You have to earn your keep.”
The man then entered the room and placed the collar around my neck. “Here is a coat to keep
you warm, he said as he placed it on my back. Then he handed me some rubber boots. “These should
help keep your feet dry while you dig.” Wanting to ask, dig what, I didn’t dare from the fear of being
struck again. The task will be difficult but not impossible. Handing me a shovel, he led me to the spot he
wanted dug.
“The weather has let up and the temperature has risen. I can not trust that you might try to run.
He then locked the chain to a stake in the ground. “The hog house needs cleaned of the bones.” “Dig me
a hole big enough to bury the remains of the less fortunate.” “I will return in twenty-four hours.” You
have fared well so far, keep up the good work and you will be rewarded.” He then turned and walked
away.
The sun was just beginning to rise, and it felt warn against me face. The black sky turned to a
canvas of pastels. The view was stunning under any condition. After admiring the horizon, I started my
grueling work. Trying to dig with missing toes was difficult and excruciating. Placing the shovel into the
frozen ground, I bared down with all my weight. Breaking the ground seemed unfeasible, but I managed.
Letting out agonizing cries, I repeated the movements until I finally moved dirt.
Scanning around, my head was on a swivel looking for cameras. The thought of trying to escape
weighing heavily. Using my bandaged hands, I felt for any gaps in my collar. It was tight around my neck.
I Then looked for any weak links in the chain but found none. The steak the chain was hooked to must
have been buried ten feet, I thought as I gave it a tug. Giving up on any escape attempts, I continued to
dig.
The hunger and dehydration had started to take effect. My head pounded like a hammer on a
nail. I became nauseous. Fearing I might throw up, I sit and rested on the ground. Looking down at the
homestead, I wondered who the man was. Nearly falling asleep, I pushed myself up off the ground.
Visions of water surrounding me engulfed my every thought. God, I was thirsty.
After I finished digging the hole I fell to my knees in exhaustion. Worrying that if I fell asleep, I
would die of dehydration. Standing up, I desperately tried staying awake. The chain weighed down my
neck making it hard to stand. Using the shovel as a brace, I wedged it into the ground and balanced the
chain over top of the shovel. It lifted the weight off me, allowing me to stand easier. Standing and
swaying, I watched as day turned to night and night back to day. “Congratulations”, the man said as he
walked up the hill toward me.
“II knew you would conquer the test.” “You will soon be rewarded for your victory.” Leading me
back to the barn, I stumbled and fell. The man picked me up and helped me to my feet. As He laid me in
the bed, oddly enough I wanted to thank him. “Before I tend to your bandages, I am going to start an I.V.
to restore your electrolytes. He then handed me a cup of water. “Drink”, he said. Wanting badly to gulp
it down, I refrained and sipped slowly. The water was refreshing as it moistened my mouth. Water
wasn’t something I normally craved but, in that moment, it was all a I wanted. Living mostly on energy
drinks and sodas, I rarely drank it.
As I sipped, I thought about my body and how I had neglected it. Peculiar enough, the man was
giving me all I ever needed. He had somehow managed to push my stronger version to the surface.
“Good news”, he said as he wrapped the final bandage around my foot. “You have made it to the last
trial.” “But before we discuss that, I want to reward you on your accomplishments.” “I’m sure you have
questions, and I will allow you to ask them.” A little conversation will do us both some good.” I must say
I am as curious about you as you are of me.” He said as he poured me another cup of water. “But not
until you have rested.” “I look forward to it, I will see you this afternoon.” Locking the door behind him,
exhausted, I fell asleep.
Hunger pains interrupted my slumber. Turning about in the bed, images of food ravaged my
thoughts. Trying hard, I managed to push the vivid images of cheeseburgers out of my mind. Replacing
them with the image of the man conversing with me. What would I ask him, I pondered. Would I set him
off again and be fed to the pigs. One would think that I wouldn’t want to talk to him after he had cut off
my nose, yet strangely enough I did. I was curious about him.
My tossing about abruptly interrupted as I heard the man enter the room. “Well now, how do you
feel this afternoon?” He asked, as he pulled a old wooden chair next the bed and sat down. To scared to
speak I laid quietly. “It Is o.k., he said cheerfully as he patted my leg. “You may speak”. “Better but
hungry”, I managed to mumble. “Yes, I know you are hungry, but you have entered your final trial.” You
must endure three weeks with no food.” You have been here a week.” “Two weeks remain.”
“People of the world are gluttons. Indulging in prepackaged garbage to feed the body. Never
having to hunt or forge for it. If you make it the three weeks, you will have learned to appreciate what
you put in your mouth. You will think about what it is for, rather than just stuffing your face. Do you still
have the desire to live, for you I truly hope so.
“What is your name?”
“Liam, my names, Liam”
“Well, Liam, my names Doc” “It is finally nice to meet your true self.” I’ve been waiting along time for
this.” “You are now worthy to speak to.” “You have shed your old, infected skin and are growing new
skin.” “I have helped you thus far to create a better, you.” “You may speak freely”.
“Why are you doing this”?
“To save you.” “To rid you of the worlds temptations” “I am extracting all you have digested and
replacing it with the will to survive.”
“Who are you”, I fearfully asked.
“I am a doctor who the world cast out due to what they call negligence.” “I only pushed my patients to
better themselves and refused to subscribe fake antidotes”. “I didn’t hand them a crutch when they
could walk on their own.”” I left the city and moved off grid”. “Here I am free to practice as I see fit”.
“My patients now, are those that want to better themselves but just need a little push.” “Yet, none have
come as far as you, Liam.” “What is it, you desire, Liam?”
“A life of fulfillment”, I said.
“Are you not now, achieving that goal, Liam?”
Before I could answer, he told me, “Enough talk for the day”, we have work to do. “Don’t speak
unless I ask you to”. Unhooking my I.V., he then furnished me with warm clothes and boots again. “Grab
the wheelbarrow”, he said as we excited the barn. He then led me to the hog house. “I want you to pick
up the bones and put them in the hole you dug. Feeling weak, I pushed through the chore. The sight of
the mutilated parts wasn’t as repulsive to me as before. Yet, I did wonder who they were and where
they had come from. The day sped by quickly.
That night, I laid in the bed thinking of the man. Could he be right with what he was doing. I did
feel a new feeling of accomplishment. Had I truly shed my old self. Had he had given me what every
doctor before him had failed at. Questioning my own thoughts, I drifted off to sleep.
As the days went by, I would often help him rid the world of the weak. Every few days he would
bring in new patients. One after one they failed his trials. Some made it past the first, only to die in the
pen or the cooler, depending on the weather. We had many evening conversations where I learned
more about Doc, as he did me. Some nights I would listen to him mourn their deaths. He would often sit
by the stove talking to himself and crying. He would question their inability to understand what he was
doing. Finding myself somewhat sympathetic to him, I spoke out. “It’ll be o.k. you’re a good doctor, they
just don’t have a desire to live. “Thank you”, he said, “but do not speak unless I tell you”. With that I
climbed into bed and covered my head.
Ribs now visible, I was nearing death. No longer having the energy to help him any longer, I spent
the remaining few days in bed. As the final day approached, he came to me and said, If you don’t die
through the night, I will intravenously feed you the nutrients your body requires. Then you can truly live
your life. Tears filled his eyes as he pulled the blanket over me. You have been an outstanding and
cooperative patient and I thank you. Share to the world the gift I have given you.
Waking up, I was confused and again fighting off a sedated state. Rubbing my eyes in dismay, I
stumbled out of bed and tripped over my tennis shoes. Looking down at my disfigured feet, I was
perplexed at the sight of the floor. Continuously wiping at my vision, I scanned the room. Soda bottles
littered the nightstand. An empty potato chip bag lay empty on the bed.
Falling onto the floor, I curled up into a fetal position and cried. Visions of the dead filled my
thoughts. My mind was baffled with an emotional and ethical struggle. Four, four, four, I tried to
manage as anxiety reared its ugly head. “No!”, I yelled. I was alive and I was thriving. Quickly jumping to
my feet, I ran to my dresser mirror. It would be the first time, seeing the new me since my amputations.
Raising my head slowly my eyes met a man I had never seen before. A mangled mess stared back at me.
Yet, I didn’t see the ugly. I seen a victor. A man who fought for his life. I seen a man with the desire to
live. Admiring my new self, I calming starting whistling that familiar tune. I knew what I had to do.
The next few months, I spent talking to the detectives. Occasionally throwing them a false bone
toward their investigation. Had I not been a missing person, I would have avoided the police all
together.
A year has passed since my abduction. My life has changed for the better. I have faired well. I
often think about Doc and if he is still practicing. I did what he asked. I survive, appreciate, and share my
new gift to the world. I no longer spend my days waiting for life to toss me a crumb of its cookie. There
is value in the very air we breathe, the water we drink, the dwelling that shelters us, and the nutriment
we eat. Yet, it’s been difficult to convince people of this without some persuasion. So, please calm your
breathing. I am not going to kill you. This will only take three minutes. So, relax, do you have the desire
to live?” “For you, I truly hope so.

Hey everyone!
I feel a little deja-vu writing here again as I am pretty sure I posted here or some other subreddit about feeling weird after graduation high school. In any case, now I am three days away from my college graduation ceremony, and my transcript does in fact show that I have completed successfully all my coursework for a BS in computer science. While I am relieved to be done, I can't help but not feel notably elated, in fact, more like ambivalent about what is coming next and nostalgic in hopes to latch on to memories. I have always been self-aware of my constant melancholy, enamored by the romanticism I attach to the events of my life and the important people that played a role in it. Yet it is that very quasi-comforting feeling that engulfs me with dread and dissonance from time to time. I've gotten better at handling it but with this major event in my life of course it had to come back.
On another track, I've always enjoyed school and academia in general; taking classes allowed me to learn so much and personally I really enjoy and derive great satisfaction from studying and learning. Growing up, school always seemed like a refuge for me to ensconce in and feel safe, erroneously qualifying myself off of "grades" and academic standing for a long time. This was true for all of my high school years and half of my college career, until I decided to cater more to my social life, my love life, and just being happier by other means besides simply school. Its turned out pretty well, yet it begs the question at this pivotal junction of my life as I graduate: what now? The "natural step" for this former "school sycophant" is grad school; however, be it because I am "burnt out" at the moment, or the fact that over time I realized I have a passion for learning and the process of it (and that does NOT include taking classes and dealing with lackluster instruction from professors, high tuition and the egregious antics of college institutions), I have decided to wager against grad school altogether.
Then there is this weird job market awaiting for me, finding employers hiring people with at least 5+ years of experience in almost every application and not getting responses. Of course, I am hyperbolizing this to a degree, and perhaps I am just impatient at the moment, too worried as usual in these critical times. That's why I can never truly enjoy my birthday, or my achievements, etc...I've always got to make it about the suffering element of what it took to get there and how much seemingly little time I've got left for this or that. Maybe it helps that I am more self-aware of this capricious trait of mine.
Overall, upon these reflections I realize I also want to do more for myself, like take a trip somewhere, pick up another book, just take "life not so seriously" such that I am not so self-aware and able to grow more as a person post-grad life. Anyways, I wish to hear from you all and seek input as to this that I feel. I am always interested in hearing input from others as well as their stories.
Thanks!
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TLDR: post-college crisis advice pls help, thank you.
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Currently playing a Shadow Magic Sorcerer. I'm trying to decide on what spells to learn, mainly to best make use of the subclass features. It looks like the Hound of Ill-Omen is geared toward single target harassment. I'm also curious about attack spells to combo with Darkness.
Currently, my list is 1st: Chaos Bolt, Sleep, Cure Wounds (Witherbloom background), Mage Armor for free from Strix Initiate. 2nd: Blindness, Tasha's Mind Whip. Metamagics are Quicken and Twin.
Considering dropping Sleep next level (5). Not sure what to replace it with though. Magic Missile is easy. Scorching Ray would combo nicely with Darkness. or starting with two 3rd level spells would be nice.
I'd like to keep a mix of spells like Vampiric Touch, Spirit of Death, and Enervation to get extended value from, but also want some burst or control as needed.
Not looking to multiclass, just want to stick with Sorcerer.
What spells and strategies do you think work best with the Shadow Magic origin?

I typically use Clenzoil Field & Range CLP for standard cleaning and maintenance of my firearms, including inside the bore. A buddy of mine put me onto Wipe-Out and I want to give it a try. Two questions:
1) Before I apply Wipe-Out, should I do any prep to make sure there’s no more trace of the Clenzoil in my bore? The instructions on the Wipe-Out container explicitly state not to oil the bore as it contains anti-corrosives so I want to make sure whatever chemicals are in Clenzoil won’t cause issues if present. I only ask because I’ve read that certain products don’t play well in the presence of other chemicals.
2) Can these two be used together (Clenzoil for standard “everyday” maintenance and Wipe-Out for when I really need to get the bore clean?) or should you stick to one product?

Hey, me and my partner are currently playing on a self hosted server, we have quite a few mods (prominence 2 rpg modpack) but so far barely ever had any lag. Today pretty much all of a sudden the server crashed while exploring and crashed again anytime we would join back in. After about 2-3h of attempted troubleshooting i now don‘t know any further. I am going to attach the log but this is what I roughly did so far : I figured what broke the server was the mod „dungeons and taverns“ , reason beeing an error stating [23:34:45] [Server thread/ERROR]: Unknown structure start: nova_structures:well_jungle and me finding a post about that beeing connected to the mod. After that i tried deleting the recent poi and region datas but no success. Now i have added the mod back which now changed the error messages a bit but we still have the same problem. Thats pretty much all.
I hope you guys are able to help me as there have been many ours spendt in this minecraft world. I also hope that you don‘t mind my english as it isn‘t my native language.
Thanks for reading and thank you in advance if you decide to try and help us a bit!

This is the first souls-like that I've even completed, let alone got all the trophies for. I did 3 play throughs and ended my last run at level 299. I've loved every second of the game.
My favourite boss was Nameless Puppet, because the adrenaline rush from beating him was amazing. My least favourite was door guardian, I found that fight a bit tedious. I got all the endings and I actually really liked the Real Boy one, even if it's not the "true" ending.
I can't wait for the DLC and hopefully a sequel.

Conspiracy theories involving “elite” pedophile rings have recently been dominating social media in a disorienting frenzy. They have been around for some time but in this century rose back to popularity during the 2016 Election cycle. This crop, at least, took root with what became known as “Pizzagate.” Promoters of that conspiracy theory in 2016 used social media platforms to make unfounded but viral allegations that Hillary Clinton and other prominent Democrats were running a pedophile ring out of the basement of a pizzeria even though that restaurant had no basement, or any ties to known politicians other than the typical flesh pressing (Phrasing I know) moments fit for a picture hung on the wall. Since then, the dark theme of Pizzagate has found new life with permutations forming part of the #Qanon conspiracy theory, incorporated under the umbrella term “pedogate.” The gist of the #pedogate conspiracy theory is that global elites (politicians, celebrities, and wealthy businesspersons) are covertly involved in a far-reaching ring that uses young children for sexual purposes. “What most of these conspiracy theories involve in one way or another is laying accusations of pedophilia or involvement in pedophile rings at the feet of people that they despise or hate, and during the 16’ election cycle, Democrats were a wide target for an opposing political movement that had hijacked the rival Republican party. Pizzagate originated with the “alt right” and “alt lite,” far right extremists who range from outright white supremacists to those who publicly shun racists but otherwise fall in step with their belief systems. Pizzagate jumped from the fringes to the mainstream because as it denigrated Hillary Clinton, it sucked in supporters of then-candidate Donald Trump. After the election all mention of pedogate seemed to be put on a simmer while other National outrages boiled over (#Covid #RussiaGate #BLM) and just like clockwork (heading into our next election cycle has been turned back up. The pedogate conspiracy and all associated stories employ a centuries-old tactic: playing on deep-seated human anxieties by conjuring images of imperiled children, the purest and defenseless victim of any manner of injustice. An example in the modern era of weaponized conspiracy was the satanic panic of the 1980s, in which a wave of hysteria over alleged child molestation at daycare centers swept the nation. But while that phenomenon was a moral panic attributable, at least in part, to social anxiety over white middle class women entering the work force en masse for the first time and entrusting their children to others, the current conspiracy theories about pedophile rings equate to similar propaganda. They carry a danger for stirring up violence. If you want to elicit violent action the way to do it is through hate and fear. Once you target and label a population as pedophiles, you can do anything you like to that population with full excuse being given to the myth you’ve wrapped around it. That’s not to say fears of child abuse or sex trafficking are unfounded. There are many as pedophilia has ancient roots and in many cases was encourage by many world cultures and religions a lot later into Civilization than we’d like to admit. The International Labor Organization reports that 25 percent of the world’s 40.3 million victims of human trafficking are children. The most vulnerable, according to the National Human Trafficking Hotline, are migrants, runaways, the homeless, and youngsters who have been victims of violence. Despite their obsession over the topic, conspiracy followers aren’t worked up about those children who are in true harm’s way. In the world of propaganda, it’s never about real children. Instead, it’s about what children represent. The children imperiled by conspiracy theories, in other words, are only metaphors. Children carry a vast amount of weight in any society, but especially modern ones when they’re expected to survive past the age of five. It wasn’t as intense before the 18th century when child mortality rates were really high. They represent the future, and all that is beautiful and decent and honest in a society, because they are innocent. For most people also, the meaning of their existence is rooted in their children. Children are eschatological, they represent death for us, and what is coming behind us after we are gone. They also represent the threat of loss, if they disappear, if they die, that is the death of society. That’s why they became so crucial and central to Cold War propaganda. The real terror of the nuclear holocaust would be the death of the children, because that’s the death of everyone. A recent example of this is in a recent police investigation into conspiracy claims of PizzaGate style accusation of Portland’s Voodoo Doughnuts. Detectives attempted to contact the person accusing Voodoo Doughnuts on social media of running a pedophile ring. The accuser did not cooperate with investigators and it’s been documented in other coverage online that they had become agitated and accused the Police with complicity when tracked down in person, even though they were attempting to investigate. The pendulum of conspiracy theories about systematic child abuse has swung back and forth for centuries. Examples such as blood libel, when Jewish communities were attacked over false allegations of murdering and consuming Christian children in the Middle Ages. In Europe, During the Thirty Years War, entire villages were put to the sword because it was believed they were abusing children of the other religions. One characteristic that helps Pizzagate-style conspiracy theories gain popularity is that they function like a puzzle game and give its audience a large level of involvement through social media. A lot of conspiracy theories are oracular, where the information comes from one source an oracle. Then there are others where there are a few people who promote the notions, almost like gurus or a conspiracy priesthood. But Pizzagate, it’s more of what one would call a participatory conspiracy theory. Participatory conspiracy theories lay out a scenario or situation and then they ask their audience, ‘what more can you find out about this, what more can you add?’ It turns the audience into willing participants, some knowing they are creating a destructive madlib and other (potential real victims) caking on mystical distraction to issues that have been unreported or scars that have not bee properly treated. The thing about participatory conspiracy theories is it can really create a devoted following because it gives people something to do, it makes them feel they can solve the whole thing or uncover new aspects to it. Once you get that energy going it’s almost self-sustaining. Followers of the Qanon conspiracy theory, call themselves “bakers” because their protagonist “Q” pops up on Internet message boards and leaves “crumbs” (i.e., clues), and they are tasked with picking up the crumbs in order to solve the puzzle. (“Q” is supposed to reference the character’s government security clearance level).
#Q followers believe an even more incoherent version of Pizzagate. This is largely a right-wing fantasy that originated in a series of incoherent posts on #4chan in 2017 by someone calling themselves #QAnon. Following on the heels of similar idiocy such as Pizzagate, it advances a fantastic web of deceit that wraps up Trumpism, deep state fearmongering, evil, satanic pedophilia rings controlled by the Democratic Party, investigations into Russian meddling in the 2016 US election, the Las Vegas shooting, and New World Order paranoia into a package easily and wholeheartedly promoted by internet cesspools and far-right personalities such as Alex Jones. The premise is that President Trump is secretly working to take down a global ring of elite, cannibalistic, satanic pedophiles. And the investigation into Russian meddling into the 2016 election, led by former FBI director Robert Mueller, is actually an investigation into the so-called “deep state”, where a cabal of evil, globalists, including Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama, are responsible for everything from a global pedophile ring to the mass shooting in Las Vegas in 2017. According to the enlightened, when Trump awkwardly took a drink from a bottle of Fiji water at a press conference in November 2017, it wasn’t because he was thirsty; it was actually a secret signal to those in the know that the annihilation of deep state pedophiles had begun (or was about to begin). Because as everyone knows, Fiji is a hot spot for child trafficking. ( I could go on and on with this poorly thought-out shit, I will spare you ) The role the Internet and social media play in helping to spread such insanity can’t be underestimated. Just a few decades earlier, conspiracy theorists would identify each other using letters to the editor printed in newspapers and magazines. It was a lot harder to identify your fellow conspiracy theorists. You would have to physically meet to swap your stories or send letters or call. They would set up these groups that would communicate by newsletter. They would meet in a physical space, like someone’s living room. I personally witnessed people from my childhood, dutifully photocopying newsletters they had received in the mail to give to others (Primarily at my #JW congregation, how ironic). Now obviously it can go much more quickly, because you can identity people immediately. You can quickly share ideas and the data you’ve collected. The Internet allows such people to exist in bubbles where they rarely have their beliefs challenged. The extraordinarily polarized society we’re in right now has made people less willing to seek out other view points. Because of the internet you have less chance of doing this. There’s very little incentive to look outside one’s own bubble once they have become invested in a conspiracy theory. Once you start to act out on those behaviors you are forced to double down by repeating the act to prove it was a just act. Eventually you get caught up in a movement that totally defines your conscious and you can’t get out of it. The second you step out of that world view your actions go back to being reprehensible. Now the question becomes, “What’s the harm? If it sheds light on child abuse, then isn’t it still productive?” The answer in this case is a resounding NO. In my opinion and PAINFUL experience, the root cause and sustaining factors of institutionalized child sex abuse are all things that would counter your typical Conspiracy Nut’s world view, thus causing a complete blackout to the problems. The entity taking part in the harming of children on a local and tangible level aren’t some suit and tie wearing global elitist. It’s a guidance counselor, youth pastor, unvetted young substitute teacher, aunt/uncle/cousin/neighbor. It’s anyone who has been given routine private access to a child’s mind and body because of the social conventions that have been protected for generations by our relatives whether they themselves are guilty of abuse or not. In all the Qanon madness I also kept very close tabs on the pending prosecution of the Boy scouts of America and never saw any widely shared memes about their involvement in the abuse syndicate. Why is this? How is this so? Aren’t these people watching the news, seeing the court records and hearing the individual cases being brought against Scout Leaders (SOME OF WHO RAN THEIR OWN NETWORKS!!)? When I would find mention of accusation it was met with the ever scarce “skepticism” because if the media is covering it, it must be a plot to destroy the organization. There are now non-for profit organizations setting up victim funds and protections for people to come out with their stories and somehow THIS is the fake ruse. Some that know me know that I was a Jehovah’s Witness as a youth/teen/young adult. That chapter of my life could fill many chapters and the research on the organization, the real true black and white history of the religion would honestly surprise you. I saw what I now know was abuse, I personally experienced abuse in many forms. The perpetrators involved are either still Witnesses or are dead or have moved “away from the organization”. But one thing that was left intact in each situation was the secret that they prey on children. The parents, these organizations and the collective promise to keep up appearances are directly to blame for the suffering untold thousands, millions of children and broken adults. All for what? Pride and Vanity and a commitment to all involved to protect them from the “mean old world” despite allowing predators to eat their children from within. Being a #JW was a very interesting experience. It provides a very efficient form of insulation from outside society and allows people involved to view the chaos from afar. There is this persistent (albeit false) sense of shared peace that members have. It’s as though for three days a week you go to this meeting where no matter what, everyone has a smile and feels about things EXACTLY how you do. There is no cursing, there are no politics, there surely isn’t any destructive influences that would tarnish your chances of salvation. For a parent this is a refuge when raising a child in a world that is dangerously unpredictable. A Child that you are unable (or unwilling) to teach coping skills to get along by societal standards, A child you want to protect by hiding. This is problem #1. As an adult the congregation presents an avenue for which you can act and behave in a way that allows you to reconcile your past, a way to have less of those nights awake because you think about past wrongs you’ve committed against people. It’s the proverbial band-aid for a guilty, bruised, destroyed conscious of any size. Coming into the organization takes nothing more than the desire to change, publicly declaring your willingness to hand over your life to God (The organization). Bam, You’re in! No credit check, no background check. This is problem #2. A JW is taught that “every facet is an asset” (Ministerial Servants know what I’m talking about). What this means is that every facet of your life is an asset to the organization to spread its word. If the world see’s their product’s application into your life and thereby how much better it is than a normal person’s, then they’ve made an “Effective Witness” to the world. This causes Witnesses of any age to allow almost every facet of their life to be a tool by the organization. For a parent this includes their children. This is problem #3 When you get a culture that insulates itself from the real world, that allows you to enter without any coherent vetting, give access to children whose parents feel obligated to present as a “witness” to the lifestyle. You get a twisted corridor in which victims can get lost for a lifetime and predators can hide in plain sight. For any proponents of the “Save-The-Children” movement to not take a step back and really analyze their local community and lifestyle through these lenses only illustrates that child abuse is being weaponized politically at the expense of others whom you aren’t willing to save because it would look bad for ‘your side’. If you truly care, you wouldn’t be sharing email forwards about what evil unverified unmentionable thing you read some celebrity or politician did. Instead, you’d be drawing back on your experiences as a child. Even if nothing happened directly to you, I’m sure you know some one that had an experience that forever harmed their life. Who did it? Was there a pattern or social condition that allowed for this as was laid out in the JW example? How could it have been avoided? Would you have stopped it if you saw the signs? Are you willing to stop it in the future, knowing what you know now? If you can answer any of those questions with a yes, then you have all you need to WRITE your own material to reach real victims and their families. Does your action cause problems for your ‘side’? It shouldn’t matter and you know that. If it does make a difference to you then you are no better than the shadowy pedophilic cabal that you are so obsessed with.

So this is a long one. Like, I'm going back over it and damn. This is longer than I thought it would be. Throwaway account, I've only made one other post to this relating to what's going on. Instead of updating the other post, I figured I'd make a separate one about the whole shit show I experienced, and the shit circus I uncovered and avoided. I'll try to keep this in as chronological an order as I can.
As the title says, my abusive/narc mom and pos/delusional/golden child brother started trying to reach out to me a few months ago wanting to make amends and build bridges with me again. There were a few people that commented on my previous post in another subreddit that may be a little disappointed in me for how I handled this, and a few that might enjoy that I handled it the way I did. Someone commented to not let them use my good nature. My nature is dependent on who I'm dealing with, and when it comes to that side of my family, I'm more stick than carrot. So their attempts did not go ignored, and did not go unpunished.
Growing up, I was always closer with my Dad than my mom. My brother was the epitome of "pampered mamma's boy". He started having seizures as a child and was diagnosed with epilepsy, which I thought was why my mom babied the absolute fuck out of him long into adulthood. He would go a year or 2 without any seizures, and then there would be a few months where he'd be having them every other day. At Anytime he got in trouble at home or school, my mom would find a way to blame me, for not making sure he knew whatever he was doing would get him in trouble, or she would blame my dad for not being "involved enough in their baby's life." My dad was in the Navy and I remember any time he'd deploy, I'd dread every day until he came back. My brother would taunt me that he knew whatever he did, I'd be the one to get in trouble for it. My dad would always make things up for me when he got back from his deployments though. We'd often have weekend trips just the 2 of us. And then around my 12th birthday, my mom insisted on sitting us all down and explain to that she and my dad were getting a divorce. We got the whole talk about how they still love us and they just can't be together anymore, etc. my dad told us both that he still loved us and he would be there for us whenever we needed him. He explained that he would be moving out, but he would be by to pick us up to spend the weekends with us. I was nervous and honestly scared of what it would be like without him. But I was looking forward to the weekend when I got to see him again. That never happened though, and that was the last time I ever got to see him.
Right before his weekend with us, my mom explained to us that my dad didn't want anything to do with us anymore. There was some news story about a father that killed his kids when he had custody of them and she used that to terrify my brother and convince him that our dad wanted to kill us to start his life over. We left damn near everything behind and moved in with my mom's brother in Florida (from Virginia) a couple days before my dad was supposed to come get us. After that, she went to great lengths to make sure we had no contact from him.
Years went on, my mom seemed more indifferent towards me than ever. She never seemed interested in anything I did unless my brother also seemed interested in it. She didn't show any interest in my wanting to learn guitar until my brother also showed interest in it. Then we got one guitar that we had to share, I'd take lessons on the condition that I taught my brother whatever I learned in them. My brother eventually wound up breaking the guitar and I was blamed for not storing it in the case it came with. I had to share my N64 with him whenever he wanted to play it. I was playing perfect dark one day and having a hard time killing the skedar leader at the end of the game. My brother burst into the room saying he wanted to play his MegaMan game, to which I just replied "give me a minute, this boss fight is hard, once I'm done you can have your turn" He didn't like that. He left the room and came back with a hammer and smashed the console while I was still playing. My fault for not letting him play it. The only thing I had that he could not use was a pair of roller blades my aunt got me for my 14th birthday. I specifically asked for roller blades to get around instead of a bike because my brother and I had different shoe sizes, so he couldn't wear them Because of constant shit like that, I never really put much value in having things growing up. I didnt want to buy something or get something as a gift just to have it fucked up in a few weeks or months. At some point, my "little" brother became the larger one, so my clothes all became "hand-me-ups" as he outgrew everything. So, because I didn't really have any distractions at home, I turned into a high achieving student, rarely got in trouble. made the honor roll all throughout school. But that wasn't something to celebrate as it was expected of me. I had long since decided that I was moving out as soon as I could once I turn 18. I got a job working at a Walgreens as soon as I could and started saving up for a car. My mom however took issue with this and would never agree to take me looking for one and absolutely refused to ever have it put on her insurance. This is where my Aunt comes in. She and her son are the only 2 on my mom's side that aren't some sort of degenerate. She had her son young, but put herself through college while raising him alone and eventually got her MBA and a cushy upper corporate job. She told me to tell my mom I had to go in to work on one of my days off, that she would pick me up and she would take me car shopping. So that's what we did. I couldn't quite afford a cash car, but she helped me with the financing. I put down what I had as the down payment, the arrangement she made with me was that 1- as long as I was in school, she would cover the insurance and payments for me, however, if I got into an accident, I was responsible for paying the deductable. And 2- as long as i was living with my mom, the car remained in her (Aunt's) name. And if anything happened to it, to let her know so she could get the appropriate authorities involved. My mom was PISSED when she found out I now had a car. Her reasoning (that she said in front of my aunt) was that she didn't think it was fair for one of us-either me or my brother- to have something the other couldn't use. Due to him being 13 and having epilepsy, he couldn't drive, so why should i have a car if my brother doesn't? That turned into a long shouting match between my mom and Aunt that basically ended with my aunt explaining that since it was her car, and all paperwork on her name, I was just on the insurance for it so I could drive it. But if anything at all happened to it while I was living at my Mom's, that the police and insurance companies would get involved. My mom still kept track of all the miles on the car to "make sure I was only going to work and school and wherever she told me I could go". Most of the time, when I hung out with friends, I wasn't the one driving. From that that point though, my mindset was very much "keep my head down and nose clean until I can leave." I graduated a month before my 18th birthday. After graduation, my mom and i got into an argument about me contributing to her bills. I eventually dropped the ball that I planned on getting back in touch with my Dad and leaving. She started laughing. Something about that laugh made me really uncomfortable. She then said "well, you can certainly meet up with him whenever you want! I'll supply the gun if you buy the bullet!" And told me my dad had died when I was 15. That. Fucking. Broke. Me. Later that night, i called my best friend and vented everything to him. He was in the DEP program for the Navy and would be shipping out in a few months, he told me to come by first thing in the morning and talk with him and his parents about the whole situation. I basically packed up all of my clothes and left the day after my 18th birthday. I just left my house key and a note that said "I'm not your problem anymore." I couch surfed for a little while until after my best friend left for boot camp, then I was able to move in and live with his parents (chosen parents basically). My only real rules were keep the house and my space clean and make sure I had a job and/or going to school. I spent a few months mourning my dad and kind of in a haze. Since he was in the Navy though, that meant I was reliable for financial aid for school. My second dad helped me get everything put together to start receiving that so I could start college.
Well, after a couple years of this, my brother, who had spent his time at school more as "forced socializing" instead of learning, was expelled from public schools for allegedly setting off a fire extinguisher in a classroom. He had to enroll at an alternative school called "the drop back-in academy" that was specifically for dropouts or anyone that got the boot from the public school system. My mom reached out to me and asked me if I would drive him to this school in the mornings, she'd pick him up in the afternoons, and she'd pay me $20 a week.I agreed to it thinking this was out of character for her, but she surprisingly held up to that agreement. I drove him for a couple years until I was ready to start my bachelor program. My second parents were getting ready to move back to their hometown and I was going to start school on the other side of the city. So, I was moving to that side of town and couldn't really drive out of my way to pick up and drop off my brother anymore. He continued his enrollment at this place for another 3 years (5 years total) and it turned out, he was never attending. I would drop his ass off there every day and he'd just walk home immediately after I pulled out of the parking lot. He'd just tell my mom that he finished his work early and decided to walk home instead of wait around for her. One afternoon, I'm coming home early from work and my brother is just sitting on the steps to my studio apartment. He tells me that he and our mom got into a really big argument and he needs a place to stay. I (reluctantly) let him in. I'm stuck thinking he must be really desperate if he's coming to me for help. But I start thinking at this point, he's 24, jobless, and probably needs to learn some self discipline and responsibility, and our mom just never did that for him. So I try to help. I ask him what their fight was about and he tells me that he started dating this girl at his alternative school. She was 21 and got the boot from the school system for being too old to attend (we actually have several relatives that were kicked out of the school system for the same reason) and that he accidentally got her pregnant and our mom did not take kindly to that. I called my landlord and explained the situation to him. He was okay with it, so I let him crash on my couch for a little bit (until the end of my lease, then I'd be moving) and just told him to clean up after himself, take care of himself, etc until we could all work this out. He crashed there for a few months and did Jack shit. He would complain that I didn't have a computer for him to use (I only had a laptop I bought for school) and I didn't have any video game consoles for him to entertain himself with. So he was stuck there bored all day. I got tired of the complaining and lack of effort and told him he had to go back to our mom's if he wasn't going to be an adult. We started shouting at each other until he dropped this little bombshell. He yelled "I can't go back to Mom's!" And when I asked why, he just blurted out "because it's to close to that elementary school!" That stopped the whole thing. "And why is that a big deal now?" I asked him. I already knew why that would be the problem, but 1% of me was holding onto the hope that he was got jumped by a gang of 5th graders and the trauma was too much for him to bear. I told him he could either tell me what's going on, or I could make a phone call and get every last detail I needed. He confessed that he had been leaving that school and going over to his "girlfriend's" house and waiting for her to get home. And that one day, her mom ended up catching them in the act. I explained to him that he was leaving out important details if that was the reason he couldn't be near a school.
He told me she was 14, not 21. I. Lost. My. Shit. Everything after that is kinda fuzzy, but he was arrested, mom posted bail, and since she lived right around the corner from an elementary school, he couldn't stay there. So they told his parole officer that he'd be staying at my address until his court date.. his PO had swung by a couple times, but I was always either at work or school or out somewhere. At this point, I told him the lease was up in 6 weeks, I couldn't stand to be around him. I packed my stuff early, moved out into a storage unit, and I stayed at an extended stay hotel until it was time for me to move. Called my landlord and told him what was going on, and if my brother was still there the last week of the lease, nail him for trespassing. My landlord was a good guy. I never had any problems with him. I paid up the last 6 weeks and threw him since extra cash for his troubles as I knew I wouldn't be getting my deposit back. That was the last time I saw my brother. After I moved out of state, I cut all contact with everyone in that family except my Aunt who was the only one that ever helped me out or even had my back. But even then, it was just through email. We'd mainly email birthday and holiday wishes to each other. Updates from my side on how life and career are going.
I never had a myspace or a Facebook growing up. I either never had a computer to check it on, or I was just so accustomed to not having any online distractions that I just never got around to making one. I did finally make a Facebook and I did get in touch with my dad's side of the family and reconnected with them. I hadn't seem most of them since I was 4 or 5. Some of them had been in contact with my brother (he fucking knew our dad died) and was spinning some sort of web about how he graduated high school early, had gone to college for pre-med and then got some sort of full ride scholarship to some prestigious medical school in Florida. He told them I wasn't on social media because I had been arrested for selling drugs and that he was taking me in after I got released. He was also using my senior portrait as a profile pic. They were surprised when they saw me and how I "looked just like my brother!" I had set the record straight. They looked dumbfounded when I told them that he couldn't get himself out of the 9th grade in 10 years, and now would likely never complete his high school journey due to the fact he can't be within 100 yards of a school.
So, fast forward to last week. I checked my email for the first time since late January (for my aunt's birthday) and noticed a few from her saying my mom wanted to reach out, then several emails from a new address. It was my mom's first initial and last name. Subject lines usually read "please respond" and "let me know you're okay" and stuff like that. I'd copy some of them over, but holy shit this is already a novella. Basically she got my email address from sneaking my aunt's phone (aunt did not sell me out). She's trying to apologize for how she treated me growing up and trying to excuse it by saying I reminded her of my dad and then she was going through menopause and just any excuse to dishes full accountability it seems. She acknowledges that it was wrong to hold me accountable for my brother's fuck-ups but dismisses that by saying he didn't know any better and she needed me to be a good role model for him. Things have been hard for her since I left, since she "had" to take my brother back in (I would've left him on the street or in jail), she had to sell her house (she was only 10 years into her mortgage) and buy another smaller one further from a school for him. He never did get a hs diploma or GED because how can he? And she's been going through breast cancer treatment for the last several months and just doesn't have the energy to take care of her 33yo baby anymore. She asked me if I lived close enough to them to take him in for a little bit while she focuses on her health. I left Florida 8 years ago and haven't even lived in the same time zone in 6 years. She can only check her email at work since she no longer has Internet at home. She had to cancel her home Internet service because of him. So, I decided to just put my brother's name into a search bar and the first thing that pops up is a FDLE sex offender's page. And holy shit has he gone downhill. He had a second arrest when he was 27 for the same thing, and then was caught in communications with another girl (like Chris Hansen sting) and was released from prison at the beginning of the year. And the mugshot.... You know the pale lady from the scary stories to tell in the dark movie? Think that, but with a patchy beard. Beady eyes, bad skin and all. According to the sheriff's office inmate search, he's been arrested 5 times in the last 10 years. Twice for lewd and lascivious battery of a minor (aged 12-15), once for solicitation of a minor, and twice for probation violations.
The TL/DR: abusive mom took all her frustrations out on me, blamed me for everything my brother did, hid my father's death from me until I was almost 18, and reaches out after 8 years of no contact and wants me to take care of her pedophile son while she's in poor health.
I'm attaching my response to her below.
Hi. I'm alive. I'm well. I'm also not okay with you contacting me, especially under the circumstances that you violated the privacy of your own sister to get my contact information. I have read your apologies and excuses and I do not accept either. You say I reminded you of Dad? He spent more time with me and showed more interest in my well-being than you ever did, and that's including the 6 years he was absent from my life by your own selfish design. Menopause? I find that hard to believe as this went on for the better part of half a decade and not once in that time did your attitude towards brother change. You always treated him with the same coddling infantile obsession and patience that one would show a toddler. It was and is clear that you have a preferred child as that adult-sized pile of shit is still living comfortably with dear old mama. I'm guessing no one else is willing to take him in? Are Uncle and Cousins afraid of him doing something to their daughters or grandchildren? I do believe you when you say you want to rebuild the bridge that you nuked from orbit years ago, but I can't believe it's not for your own selfish desires. And I can't find any reason or way my quality of life could be improved with your presence. The reality is, my life has been far better without you than it could be with you. I've never said this to anyone, but if there is a sense of karma and balance in the universe, your current situation is proof of that. The next time I see your name on my computer screen, had better be for your obituary. But since you and the monster you raised both decided to keep Dad's death a secret from me, and remove any choice I had to mourn or pay my respects, I'll return that kindness to you.
Please die away from me.

Played the game for a little bit when it came out, barely got into Jarilo V-I before I stopped, not because I didn’t like it but because I figured I’d enjoy the game more when it has more content to play through, but now as I get back into it I’m dropped right into the middle of a quest line I barely have knowledge off and worse than that I have to somehow relearn the combat mechanics and the character building system all over again but for whatever reason as far as I know this game has no way to replay Herta or give lost players an avenue to get back into its systems, so I’m just completely lost and overwhelmed and honestly makes me not even want to pick the game back up. Are there any guides or videos to help ease the re-entry at least?

Hello everyone!
I have a dog that we thought was dog reactive, but we think it’s more so leash reactive.
Our german shepherd husky mix is 5 years old and was socialized pretty well when he was 1-2 years old until the pandemic hit and we weren’t able to socialize him as much. Anyway, for the last couple of year, we’ve thought that he was reactive as he barks and lunges towards other dogs when we go on walks. His hackles are raised and we’re fighting to get him in control as he pull with his leash on him. We’ve tried train him with positive reinforcement (treats/praises) by staying far far away and letting him know again that he is in a safe space. Nothing works and he disregards the treats and just barks and lunges continuously.
Lately, we met another parent who was open to going on walks with us on a distance. At first our dog was reactive and didn’t want to stop until after 10 mins. When we first did our walk, I came up to their dog and the parents to show that they’re friendly and then went back to him to reassure him that he’s fine.
When our walk started, we started with him being in the back so he can smell the dog as much as possible. He had some issues at first when the dog was getting closer to him, but after 10-15 mins of walking, he ended up just ignoring the dog completely. Like the dog didnt exist. His walk went great. His tail was wagging and he’d lay down with the dog after the walk and EVEN share a water bowl with him.
We came on more walks with his friend and each walk became easier and easier. When they first see each other, he goes crazy and then stops a lot quicker than the initial walk. He even met MORE dogs during our walk and let them sniff and so did he. During this wall he was on a leash and muzzle. The other parents mentioned that maybe he’s leash reactive. We noticed it and when we gave him an even longer leash, he’d go to other dogs himself without any reactive signals.
Sadly, our work schedule changed and we’re not able to walk as much as before with his dog friends and we think that it’s going to regress. Until lately this month, we had a rescue puppy come by. When we introduced them at first, it was in a neutral space. The puppy was help up and our dog was on a leash. When he first heard the puppy bark, he started whinning and couldn’t relax. As soon as he saw the puppy, he started lunging and barking like crazy. Like he was feral. We removed the puppy out of the area and he came back to normal.
After a while we let him out in the backyard to free roam and off-leash. He saw/heard/smelt the puppy through the window and the only reaction he had was the whine and his tail wag was different. We tried a different approach without a leash, but with a muzzle and it went a lot better. No lunges, no barking, just sniffing. Even when the puppy was barking at him he didn’t care. Since then that puppy has now become a family member completely and now they live together and play with each other. It took less than 3 days for them to aclimate with each other. Although those days weren’t perfect, we noticed that he only gets reactive with the member when he’s on a leash.
Its been a month since we’ve had to dogs now and they’ve been amazing with each other. But, during walks our first dog is still reactive towards other dog except the puppy. I’m confused and at this moment all signals point towards leash reactive. I’d like everyone to say I am right, but i’d be proven wrong so I can put him on a better training regime.
TLDR: Dog reactive only on leash. Met a dog friend, reactive on leash on initial walk. Walked more with dog friend and reactiveness lessened even on leash. During walks with dog friend, he made more friends. Schedule changes and he regressed. Puppy came into his life and was reactive on first meet with leash and muzzle on. Less than an hour later, no reactiveness when free roaming. Only reacts only when on leash.

This is a long one, so buckle up.
Me and my boyfriend have been together around a year and a half. We are so very deeply in love, healthy, and are very physically attracted to one another. We have a healthy bedroom, good friends, and have similar viewpoints and morals. Really just the ideal relationship. Although we have not dated very long, we are aware of how strong our feelings are for each other and that we are willing to work to stay together for the long term.
When we got together, he had planned to leave the country and head to Europe, to live and work for a long time, possibly permanently. We were just supposed to be casual, but alas, here we are. He kind of messed about with leaving over the first year, not really booking anything, having loose plans of where he wanted to go, etc. meanwhile he’s actively building a life at home. We are getting serious, he’s got a job he really enjoys, his friend circle grows. But eventually, he booked his ferry, got in his van (he’s doing van life), and left the country. I was very proud, and I was excited to visit him in this new place and prepared for the inevitable long distance relationship antics.
When he first arrived, he was having a terrible time. He was home sick, just wanted to come home, felt alone, very typical response if you have just left your family, gf and friends back home and ventured out on your own. At this time, I had a flight booked to come and see him 10 days after he arrived, so it was a very short time to wait and get acquainted with his new home. In his feelings, he did state he wanted to come home and swore he didn’t want to stay in the country, I told him to stick it out and encouraged him, but I subconsciously held onto the fact that he said he would possibly like to come home at some point.
I arrived, we had a lovely holiday for around 8 days. Travelled the other countries nearby, did the typical touristy things. Then I went back home.
This is where my problem begins to bubble. You see, I have a well paying job for my age, but it’s is extremely taxing and I don’t see myself doing it for much longer (hopefully no longer than 3 years). I have good friends I see regularly, but my life at home is beginning to become monotonous and a bit stressful. Something that was prevented by having my partner here. When I had a bad day at work he was there to comfort me, if I was sore he was make me feel better, bring me tea, etc. something that I miss so much. No matter how much I fill my days off with something to do, or see my friends, I just miss him. It all just feels like filler until I see my boyfriend again.
At this exact point, my boyfriend is over his home sickness, he’s reaching out and beginning to make some friends, he’s got a new job at a small restaurant, and he’s just doing what you should at that point. I’ve been cheering him on and we have great communication (texting throughout the day, nightly FaceTimes)
Later on, he’s come home for a visit for 5 days. It’s amazing having him back. I took some days off work, we stayed away in an amazing bnb, etc. then he’s off again.
I get a bit depressed as anyone would, it’s the joys of long distance. He’s to be back at the start of June again for an event with me so we’ve got a few weeks to wait. But I’m just not in it right now. I hate my job, I’ve started the gym as some kind of outlet for any frustrations and to improve my mental health, and it seems to work.
During his last visit, and over the course of a few weeks prior, we’ve been discussing the fact that I too, want to live abroad and travel WITH him. I’m not fulfilled anymore and I’ve thought about if this is something I’m really serious about. You see, before I was 100% a homebird, I knew that living abroad in a van wasn’t for me, at least permanently. I told him this, but over the coming months I’ve changed my perspective and I’m genuinely interested in living abroad. We agreed that we would try to find an apartment, and live somewhere together with our little dog. I feel at our age we can only get our there and experience the world, even if it’s scary.
So I discussed my 5 year plan. *give a very lengthy notice for my job * whilst working, obviously actively saving as much as possible *I would give my car back to my finance company (so didn’t have such a big recurring bill) Etc etc etc
When discussing these plans, he mentioned he would probably come home after peak season (so September ish) and we could work on getting out of this country together. He also said he would probably leave again in the next summer for somewhere new, and I agreed that that is a good idea since I may not be ready to leave our home country by that time. So he still gets to travel and live abroad, and I still get to see him for the majority of the year whilst we actively work to leave the country together. This was the idea in my head.
We were just on FaceTime, so I asked “do you think you’ll be home after peak season?”
And he said “what just to visit? Or like permanently?”
I said “no like permanently”
“Um no probably not..I think I may keep travelling around after season when I can leave my job”
Oh… I was quite taken aback as this was the first he’s mentioned this. He stated valid reasons to why he wouldn’t just come back home after the season (expensive, he doesn’t feel as though he’s did enough yet, he wants to see X,Y,Z) I mentioned if he would be back before Christmas? He said he wasn’t sure. He said he’d definitely come back home before date as the vans MOT will need renewed back home so he has no choice but to come back. But besides that he just isn’t sure.
Now, this has just happened, so my emotions are a bit fresh so I apologise. I understand plans change and since there was no SET plans in place, things can change. But I feel quite hurt and upset. I believed we were on the same page, and I feel like this is almost a selfish thing to do. I don’t know if it is actually selfish or if my desperation to leave my life here + mixed with my jealousy towards the fact that he gets to live this amazing life out there, is making me resent this choice of his? I want to be with him, out there, so badly. For him to just take himself off to these other countries that I have expressed to him I REALLY want to visit, just because he doesn’t want to come back home? He’s having a great time, and I completely understand why he wouldn’t want that to end. I just feel like, why doesn’t he want to wait to be able to share that with me? Or come home to me? His dog? His family? Are we that bad?
He mentioned a country he would really like to see, that I have ALWAYS wanted to visit, and I think that was my breaking point whilst on call. He knew I was upset but I do not talk if I feel I am going to cry (working on it) so I shushed him away and said I’ll speak to him tomorrow when I’m ready.
I just need a bit of advice and clarity. What do you think you would bring up in this situation with your partner? Am I right to feel angry at him for not waiting for me? To just sacrifice a solo holiday and come home so we can plan it together? I’m just feeling so upset.
I appreciate all feedback.

So basically I’ve seen people add their own takes on rewriting or rebooting the story of RWBY and here I’m going to give my take on how I would take the story. This will mostly center around the main four since I plan on building up with baby steps first.
First up is team leader herself: Ruby! For starters I would make sure we focus on her as one she is the main character and it made no sense for Jaune to come in and take the spotlight from her. Secondly it’s because she’s got those silver eyes which play a big role in the story but are completely redundant as she never gets to use them. Now for one thing I would keep her relatively the same like the show except instead when she makes a bad call no one will just automatically praise her like a hero. It always bugged me how she just got to mess up and ALWAYS got a pass for it. For this to work she needs to face real consequences for her actions so she can better herself as both a person and a leader. Next I would not include the EnD Of tHE WoRLd plot as it feels sooo unnecessary to the plot and story…but I might save it for the end. This would allow for PROPER world building which would allow for a proper way to explain and expand on these silver eyes. This way we as an audience can understand what and how this ability works and not feel like an after thought. Finally for Ruby I plan on keeping her original personality from volume 1-3 as she should’ve served as a beacon of hope sorta of the likes like Superman, Captain America, and Spider-Man: being optimistic despite the circumstances not being in their favor and never losing hope.
Now onto Yang. Let’s be real here: SHE WAS A BAD SISTER! Not only does she get worse through out the volumes but she practically let Ruby drink tea that killed her…and then took her to get some boba tea. So instead I plan on her being a fully fun loving elder sister who, after her biological mother left her and her stepmother passing on, decides to make it her mission to be there for Ruby and always be there for her: No mater what. I would also keep them same personality she had in Vol 1-3 BUT make her quite the smart and clever one. Using her looks and… ‘girls’ to make herself a persona she puts on, a mask if you will, and use it to get closer to enemies and make them lower their guard when in reality she’s quite intelligent and knows her way around people. She would always use this to help turn the tides in her favor and hit enemies when they least expect it. As for…bumblebee…I don’t see her getting into a relationship. I rather see her as the type who would occasionally swing around but not having long term relationships. She is a party girl after all.
Now onto Blake. Honestly I loved how it looked like it was setting up Blake as an orphan who was taken in by the White Fang and raised into a killing machine only to see the error of her ways and try to leave that life behind. HOWEVER as we all known they ruined it by not only revealing she has both of her parents but that SHE’S PRACTICALLY ROYALTY! With that it ruins the whole point of her and comes off as now…bland…not like she kinda was in the early volumes. So in my new take in this I plan on keeping the same thing for her and ACTUALLY making her an orphan taken in. By the end of Vol 3 she does the same thing and in the fallowing stories she finally starts to the White Fang for who they are. In fallowing volumes she starts to see the affect’s it’s caused to Faunus all over. Their island was a trash place but when she returns she sees it’s a paradise, but it’s become extremely crammed because so many of them are showing up to the island not wanting to deal with the White Fang as they’ve put a bad name to ALL Faunus. So yeah I plan on both her AND Sun (because that would make more sense) to take down Adam. With that I plan on her doing a Soundwave from IDW comics. Basically take over as leader of the group and try to restore SOME honor to the White Fang as she would know “Yes they were bad…but that doesn’t mean they can’t revert back to their peaceful ways.
Lastly we have Weiss and I’ll be honest there isn’t much for me I want to change as she was pretty okay for the most part but I would add some changes here and there. For starters I would like to have her slowly improve on herself as she has had some issues due to her family matters. So it would take a while for her to FULLY end her ways of being a bit cruel and cold to her team especially Ruby. Also I would actually change it and have to where her father is actually…A GOOD DAD. Sorta as his work keeps him in the office but he’s a good man, husband, and father to his family. It’s just the things he’s done to build the family name has not only hurt the family name but he can’t do anything as in the end of the day he’s running a business and he too wanted to provide for all of Remnant. In the end Weiss has to deal with these personal problems but still know her place as a member of team RWBY. Also I am not doing that thing where she ends up with Jaune as I just don’t her getting into a romantic relationship.
So yeah these are how I would reboot the characters and perhaps this might be seen as a my own take but whatever. I wanted to get my thoughts and ideas out there. So what do y’all think?

Heyy. I’m looking for someone to hangout and play stuff with. I’m 28, trans female 4/20 friendly and weird af
I play alot of random stuff and go for achievements, I am currently on a Final Fantasy Anthology run (currently on FFIV NO SPOILERS!!!!) or league (Ik…it is what it is 😑) so it would be cool if you wanted to complete some games with me! Or just hangout and chat while GAMIN ☺️
I’m currently looking to complete the Borderlands Series! I haven’t done the DLC for the first game and I’ve never played 2,3, or the pre sequel so those would be fun to complete. ☺️
Some other stuff I’d like to do co-op is BG3, Code Vein, CupHead, Overcooked 2 DLC (gamepass) Phasmaphobia, Stardew Valley, probably some other gamepass stuff or if you have some co-op gamepass stuff you wanna do I might be interested ☺️
Lmk 😜

So I started seeing the RC, and realised a few things Most of them are at Max 600 words, so I see no point of reading long aeon essay in one go(aeon are like 3000 words), what you can do is read it in breaks, like reading for half an hour, also if you see VARC section is for 40 min so try to read with concentration for 40 mins , no need to spend hours just reading random stuff
Also newspaper and books are very begineer type of content, what RC have is complex text, so don't waste your time on reading and completing full books, yeah books and newspaper are good for building habits in the beginning if you haven't read your entire life but for RC you need to start reading complex text on sub such as psychological history art science and other topic which are very complex in nature (man I must say these topics are so hard to grab in beginning, couldn't understand what is going on in the text, but I know it's a process so stick to it)
TLDR Stop reading newspaper and starting reading complex short text.

• August 2020
  • Start to notice symptoms
• August 2021 - October 2021
  • Undergo an elimination diet to try to see if I have food intolerances
• November 2021
  • See a naturopathic doctor – basically doesn’t help at all.
• December 2022
  • See a gastroenterologist in Colorado. (South Denver Gastroenterology)
    • Undergo tests – they come back healthy. Blood test = healthy. Don’t have Celiac. They do say that my thyroid is technically in the healthy range but to watch it.
• January 2023
  • Undergo a breath test – comes back positive for SIBO.
• March 2023
  • Take a round of Xifaxan – no improvements in symptoms.
• May 2023
  • Take a second round of Xifaxan – no improvements in symptoms.
  • Undergo a second breath test – comes back positive for SIBO but with improvements in the test measurements.
• June 2023
  • Take a third round of Xifaxan – no improvements in symptoms.
• July 2023
  • Undergo the Ruscio Elemental Heal Diet for 6 days – notice some improvements in symptoms.
  • Undergo a low-FODMAP diet for about a month – notice bad symptoms starting to return.
• August 2023
  • Pray and start eating without any restrictions – notice symptoms
• September 2023
  • Symptoms start to get worse.
  • See Dr. Hannah Hamlin. She begins by prescribing me the following:
    • Treatment Plan for SIBO:
    • Triple Probiotic Therapy: Take one stick per day for 60 days.
    • Herbal Antimicrobial Protocol:
    • Biota-Clear 1b : 2 pills, 2x per day, best with food, 2 bottles of 60 capsules needed
    • Biota-Clear 1a : 4 pills, 2x per day, best with food, 2 bottles of 120 capsules needed
    • Multivitamin: 2 per day for 60 days
    • Supplement/dp/B07KCZ6CDW/ref=sr_1_24?crid=BE5KSKA02TSD&keywords=multivitamin&qid=1695244863&rdc=1&sprefix=multivitamin,aps,102&sr=8-24
    • Nutrition: Low-FODMAP Diet - see handout - Remember to follow only 80% of the time.
    • Movement: F45 2-3x per week, walk/yoga 30 min 2-3x per week.
    • Sleep: Aim for 8.5 hours of sleep per night on average.
    • Supplements: Continue vitamin C at home, hold other home supplements at this time.
• October 2023
  • The protocol was not helping. Dr. Hannah Hamlin then prescribes that I halve the doses of herbal antimicrobials and halve the probiotic stick per day. The Low FODMAP diet did not seem to be helping, so she told me I no longer needed to live by it.
  • October 5, 2023
    • Started the entire protocol
  • October 16, 2023
    • Started doing the half dosage amounts
  • October 18, 2023
    • Stopped doing the low FODMAP since I was still bloated even when only eating strictly low FODMAP meals.
  • October 18 - 30, 2023
    • Was going in waves of being super slim and then being back to super bloated again
• November 2023
  • November 1, 2023
    • Ceased all medicine to see if the supplements leaving my body would return my body to a balance.
  • November 1 - 8, 2023
    • Saw great improvements and reduced bloating
  • November 9, 2023
    • Bad bloating and constipation until November 11
  • November 11, 2023
    • Excluding November 9, I had sen significant improvements in my symptoms. The symptoms that remained included excessive burping (even when having not consumed food) and light bloating even if I had not eaten.
  • November 17, 2023
    • Meet with Dr. Hannah Hamlin. She prescribes that I take Psyllium Husk and Magnesium daily to combat constipation. She also advises that I reintroduce the probiotics and herbal antimicrobials from before at full dosages until running out of them.
• December 2023
  • December 6, 2023
    • Started the regimen again, and my bloating and constipation had been super bad since. The constipation pills were not helping either. Thus, Dr. Hannah Hamlin advises me to hold off on the probiotics and herbal antimicrobials until I start having daily bowel movements.
  • December 16, 2023
    • After following Dr. Hamlin’s above advice, my body definitely improved, but the constipation remained. I am having daily bowel movements, but it doesn’t feel like they are fully getting everything out. I tried eating foods rich in fiber, running on the treadmill, drinking black coffee, etc., but nothing seemed to make a consistent impact. Remaining symptoms: constipation, bloating (not as bad as originally but still present), and burping even when having not eaten anything.
  • End of December, 2023
    • Start using senna tea to increase bowel movements. I had multiple days in a row where my stomach was completely flat and healthy looking.
    • BUT, I left for Europe for a 3-week long study abroad trip, and now my stomach is back to being very bloated and constipated daily–despite using senna tea during the trip. I was discouraged because I was doing really well right up until I started traveling for study abroad.
• January 2024
  • January 29, 2024
    • Appointment with Dr. Hannah Hamlin. She said: Week 1: continue Psyllium Husk and magnesium for daily bowel movements. Week 2: Start probiotic sticks. Remember the first days can sometimes cause a worsening of symptoms. If by day 7, you aren’t back to baseline of feeling better, then decrease to ½ dose per day. Week 3: Start herbal antimicrobials. Follow up in 6 weeks.
• February 2024
  • February 3, 2024
    • Get an infection and have to take the antibiotic Amoxicillin. Halt all other medication until completed the round of Amoxicillin.
• March 2024
  • Continued the protocol prescribed in January, 2024. Within a week or so, my stomach was doing MUCH better after starting the probiotic sticks. Unfortunately, I got sick again for the second time and had to take Amoxicillin again. Then, my stomach was extremely bloated and felt like I had regressed. Spoke with Dr. Hannah Hamlin, and she advised that I continue the treatment described in January, 2024.
• April 2024
  • April 17, 2024
    • Met with Dr. Hamlin. Felt like my body was 80% better on a 100% scale.
    • She advised that I finish the protocol outlined in January, 2024.
  • April 29, 2024
    • I had been taking vitamins to try to prevent getting sick again (since I had been sick twice earlier in the year. Realized the Iron supplement I was taking may have been causing extra constipation–so I ceased taking all extra at-home vitamins other than Vitamin D. I continued the protocol that Dr. Hannah Hamlin had prescribed.
• May 2024
  • May 9, 2024
    • Finished the protocol outlined in January, 2024. My stomach honestly seemed worse.
    • Met with Dr. Hannah Hamlin. She prescribed that I start trying to do core exercises to strengthen my stomach and that I try meditation…

Symptoms:

• Constant bloating – look like I’m 7 months pregnant all the time
• Excessive gas
• Excessive bloating that causes discomfort and tiredness
• Constipation

Not consistent but symptoms I encountered in the past:

• Fatigue, tiredness
• Brain fog? (not fully sure if that’s what I am experiencing, but I will feel out-of-it at times.)

Timestamp: https://imgur.com/Gj9Qsp9
Photo dump: https://imgur.com/a/X86l9rg

1. Complete P320 3.9" slide with Type 2 RM09 - $565 shipped CONUS

• Brownells slide (the optic milling fits the RMR very snugly)
• Type 2 RM09. Some wear on the adjustment buttons but the glass is great. Installed with a torque wrench and VC-3.
• SIG 3.9" barrel
• SIG RSA
• SIG slide internals
• P320 VTAC sights

This setup is kind of a frankenslide but it cycles smoothly and shoots well. I've taken it out to 100yd without issue and I would say its a very well made slide for the money.
2) X-Macro grip module. $55 shipped CONUS

• Went to the range twice and swapped. It includes all backstraps.

3) Romeo 1 Pro. $220 shipped CONUS
Came with a slide I purchased. The previous owner said he shot ~100rd before selling it to me. Glass is perfect and the optic is in excellent condition. No box or manual but it does have the shroud and screws
4) X-Ray 3 suppressor sights. $65 shipped CONUS or trade for normal height X-Ray
Removed from the same slide the Romeo 1 Pro came on. There's some brass residue from the drift I used to remove the sights. There's one small ding on the front blade.
5) Modlite PL-350. $265 shipped CONUS or trade for X-300 Turbo A

• Started life as a first gen but I sent it in for the upgrade. Works great but it doesn't play well with my holster.

Thanks for looking

Heyy. I’m looking for someone to hangout and play stuff with. I’m 28, trans female 4/20 friendly and weird af
I play alot of random stuff and go for achievements, I am currently on a Final Fantasy Anthology run (currently on FFIV NO SPOILERS!!!!) or league (Ik…it is what it is 😑) so it would be cool if you wanted to complete some games with me! Or just hangout and chat while GAMIN ☺️
I’m currently looking to complete the Borderlands Series! I haven’t done the DLC for the first game and I’ve never played 2,3, or the pre sequel so those would be fun to complete. ☺️
Some other stuff I’d like to do co-op is BG3, Code Vein, CupHead, Overcooked 2 DLC (gamepass) Phasmaphobia, Stardew Valley, probably some other gamepass stuff or if you have some co-op gamepass stuff you wanna do I might be interested ☺️
Lmk 😜

Seriously why this boss is so easy compared to the previous ones? Before fight I was hoping that the last boss will abolutely destroy me, I mean completely fuck me up like his little bitch to the point when I will wish to unistall this game or even worse... play against chapter 3 boss. But honestly fuckin collector was closer to ending my run, he at least bring 3 of my heores to death doors and Im not sure if the final boss did this to at least one of my heroes.
I learned to enjoy failing, the longer I played this game struglling, the bigger smile I got, my winnings were earned and what did I get? A fuckin edgelord discord moderator who failed to kill 4 people constantly trying to kill themselfs for the whole run. How tf did he even destroyed the world so much if he cant beat a girl with matches like in some kind of Andersens' twisted stories, medicine student, a savage with agression problems and a fuckin man suffering from leprosy. Are you kidding me? You're not worthy to even stand next to the eye boss from chapter 3. This boss knew how to fight 40 critical every round by just looking at you. I wanted to rip my dick off after each lost battle. And you have what? Ability to cause PTSD and showing some mathematical problems. That could work on my grandpa or math student not on barbarian who probably cant even read like wtf
What am I supposed to do, since I beat this game? Do it all over again, like some kind of delirious man? I feel like flagellant on painkillers. Without goal. Red Hook give me new harder boss battles or I will just Red Hook myself on a tree.

Round 1, Pick 11 - Olumuyiwa Fashanu, OT, Penn State:
NFL: Though he enters the NFL as a work in progress, Fashanu is a long, athletic offensive tackle with a lot of upside. The good thing here is the Jets don’t need him to start from Day 1, so the Penn State product can learn behind established veterans Tyron Smith and Morgan Moses.
CBS Sports: B-. He is a left tackle for the future, but also insurance if Tyron Smith can’t play the whole season. He is good in pass protection, but needs to improve his run blocking. This isn’t an all-in pick like Brock Bowers might have been.
ESPN: Not the sexy pick, but the right pick. Georgia tight end Brock Bowers would've garnered bigger headlines than Fashanu, but the need at offensive tackle trumped what would have been a luxury pick. This was general manager Joe Douglas pouring more resources into an injury-riddled line that allowed 64 sacks, including the one that ended Aaron Rodgers' season on the fourth snap. Douglas acquired veterans Tyron Smith, Morgan Moses and John Simpson in free agency, and now he has a highly skilled heir apparent at left tackle. Fashanu needs seasoning as a run-blocker, but he allowed only one sack at Penn State and was named Big Ten Offensive Lineman of the Year. This marks the third time in the past five drafts that the Jets used a first-round pick on a lineman.
NFL Absolutely Not Fake News: He was not alive when The Waterboy came out.
Round 3, Pick 65 - Malachi Corley, WR, Western Kentucky:
NFL: Some have likened Corley to "Deebo Samuel Lite" for his running back-like build and tackle-breaking ability, although he's not as dynamic a player yet as Samuel is. The Jets can use him in the Randall Cobb role and upgrade that spot, however.
CBS Sports: B. Angry WR who plays like a RB with the ball in his hands. Some route-tree experience but predominantly deployed as gadget type and showcased insane contact balance in college. Fun addition as extension of Jets run game. Just a niche type.
ESPN: The Jets have a new king -- the "YAC King," as Corley was known in college. They coveted him so much that they traded up seven spots, giving up a third-round pick (72) and a fifth-rounder (157). Rodgers gave his stamp of approval, telling Saleh via text that he's excited about Corley. He did two things exceptionally well in college: make yards after the catch and score touchdowns. From 2021 to 2023, he scored 29 receiving TDs (tied for the second most in the FBS) and racked up 2,068 yards after the catch, easily the most in the FBS. He's not a blazer (4.56 seconds in the 40), but he's a strong, violent runner, evoking comparisons to Deebo Samuel. The Jets' receivers didn't generate much YAC last season, so he should provide a needed dimension to the receiving corps. Corley is best out of the slot, but he can be used as a gadget player on screens and jet sweeps.
NFL Absolutely Not Fake News: Round Three: If this was a MK fight someone would be a winner here.
Round 4, Pick 134 - Braelon Allen, RB, Wisconsin:
NFL: Allen is a big, fast back who might vault to RB2 behind Breece Hall eventually. There was some talk about Allen possibly landing in Round 3, so the value appears good. He's a straight-line runner but one who brings juice and force to the position.
CBS Sports: B+. Not a freaky specimen athletically but enormous RB with loads of experience. One of the youngest prospects in the entire class. Game is predicated on between-the-tackles vision and effortless power through contact. Not elusiveness or speed. Best pass pro RB in the class.
ESPN: A bit of a surprise, considering the Jets already have a terrific RB1, Breece Hall. Yes, they needed another backup to pair with 2023 draft pick Israel Abanikanda, and they opted for the 235-pound bruiser instead of a veteran free agent. Allen brings size and power to the position; he squatted 610 pounds as a freshman. He was the heaviest running back at scouting combine. His mindset: "I try to punish defenders." He befriended Derrick Henry via social media -- a pretty good resource for a "big" back. Allen rushed for 3,494 yards and 35 touchdowns in a highly productive career at Wisconsin, which has produced some fantastic running backs. His numbers dipped last season with a new coaching staff. Allen will push Abanikanda, who rushed for 70 yards as a rookie. In Hall, Allen and Abanikanda, they have plenty of speed, power and youth. In fact, Allen, who doesn't turn 21 until Jan. 20, is the youngest player in the draft.
NFL Absolutely Not Fake News: Enjoys baby carrots and ranch as a light snack at the end of the day.
Round 5, Pick 171 - Jordan Travis, QB, Florida State:
NFL: Someone check on Aaron Rodgers! All kidding aside, this feels like an excellent landing spot for Travis, with Zach Wilson shipped to Denver and Rodgers perhaps a year or two from retirement. Travis made steady strides as a passer and leader over his five college seasons, taking care of the ball, threatening defenses with his legs and displaying the competitiveness and creativity to give him a shot.
CBS Sports: B-. Older but ascending passer who demonstrated clear improvement as a thrower during his collegiate career. Flair for the improvisational play with his legs and simply when keeping his eyes downfield after pressure mounts. Touch at all levels is good. Late-season torn ACL. Small frame with average at best arm talent but good accuracy.
ESPN: Five days after trading Zach Wilson to the Denver Broncos, the Jets added a new face to the quarterback room. Travis is a long-term project, a developmental player who can learn from two wise heads, Aaron Rodgers and Tyrod Taylor. It's an ideal situation for Travis, who, like Rodgers, is attempting to return from a major injury. In his case, it was a gruesome broken ankle last November, a devastating setback that ruined a storybook college season. Travis improved last season as a passer (20 TDs, two interceptions), but he still has a way to go. He has average arm strength, but he has exceptional movement skills. As he noted, "I'm a playmaker. I make plays when everything breaks down." Naturally, his surgically repaired ankle is a big question mark. He declined to give a timetable on when he'd be ready for football activities.
NFL Absolutely Not Fake News: Once moonwalked an entire marathon. That’s right. 26.2 miles of moonwalk.
Round 5, Pick 173 - Isaiah Davis, RB, South Dakota State:
NFL: A consistent producer at the FCS level, Davis reminded me of Tyler Allgeier a bit as a prospect. Davis also showed up against a very good Iowa defense, with 80-plus yards from scrimmage. But did the Jets need another big back? They're pretty loaded with Breece Hall, Israel Abanikanda, Braelon Allen and now Davis. I like the player, but the redundancy is confusing.
CBS Sports: C. Big, highly athletic feature back without serious top speed but nifty cutting skill at all levels of the field. Will make many defenders miss although could experience some growing pains making step up in competition. Serious feature back potential but another RB?
ESPN: Another running back on Day 3? This certainly should send a message to Abanikanda. The competition is on. Davis is an interesting pick. He absolutely dominated FCS competition, rushing for 4,548 yards and 50 touchdowns in his career. He led the FCS last season with 1,578 rushing yards and 18 touchdowns. But can he make the jump to the NFL? At 6-foot, 218 pounds, he has an NFL body, but his speed (4.57 in the 40) is suspect. He came from a gap blocking scheme and will have to adjust to the Jets' zone-based scheme. He should be a terror on special teams, which is what you want out of a backup running back drafted in the fifth round.
NFL Absolutely Not Fake News: Knows the difference between a null value and zero on a tax return.
Round 5, Pick 176 - Qwan’tez Stiggers, CB, CFL (Toronto Argonauts):
NFL: Stiggers never played college football, which is why he had to take the unusual CFL-to-the-NFL draft route. But he's a fascinating talent with clear ballhawking skills in his one year with the Toronto Argonauts, even if he's a clear project.
CBS Sports: C+. Traits and flash-based CB who still needs to learn the nuances of reading routes and understanding concepts but at times his athletic skill and size get him to the football. Twitch and speed jump out on film. Not a sound tackler right now.
ESPN: The Jets drafted three projects in the fifth round, none bigger than Stiggers, who has no college experience and played one season (2023) in the CFL for the Toronto Argonauts. He was eligible for the NFL draft because he didn't attend college. He's extremely raw, but the tools are there. He has good size (5-foot-11, 203) and ran the 40 in 4.45 seconds at his pro day. For the Argos, he recorded five interceptions and was named most outstanding defensive rookie. He joins a loaded cornerback room, led by All-Pro Sauce Gardner. Stiggers is an ideal candidate for the practice squad, where he could continue his development.
NFL Absolutely Not Fake News: I’m just here to remind you that the Arizona Cardinals exist.
Round 7, Pick 257 - Jaylen Key, S, Alabama:
NFL: Key has pretty interesting length for a DB and he played arguably well for Bama after transferring from UAB, but his lack of long speed likely keeps his role limited to box-safety duties in the NFL.
CBS Sports: C+. Sizable, reasonable athlete who’s best near the line of scrimmage but doesn’t play with his hair on fire. Sound tackler and will lay the lumber. Has the linear speed to run with TEs down the seam. Not a bendy mover so doesn’t stick to his responsibilities in coverage often. Average-at-best ball skills.
ESPN: Hello, Mr. Irrelevant -- the Jets' first since 1969. Key is a 6-1, 208-pound safety known for his physical style of play. He doesn't have great speed (4.6 in the 40), but his noted toughness will help him land a role on special teams. Key began his career at UAB, spending only one season at Alabama. He started 12 games for coach Nick Saban, but he didn't have much ball production -- only one interception and two passes defensed. The Jets' safety depth could have an opening or two. After incumbent Tony Adams, they have veteran Chuck Clark and career backup Ashtyn Davis.
NFL Absolutely Not Fake News: Was drafted into the NFL and no one can ever take that away from him.

I keep seeing this and its starting to bring me physical pain. **Properly played boom and zoom cannot be defeted only avoided**. If you are above an enemy and dive, if they do anything you dont like pull back up so they cant reach you. If they turn hard, go fast or start diving with you just pull up. The amount of times iv seen a P51 diving on a lower and slower but more manuverable plane like a spitfire only for the spitfire to turn and the P51 Glocs trying to follow is just sad.

If its not going right pull back up

ontop of this pulling up is not going vertical your just making yourself an easy target. Neither is it going horisontal, stop chasing aircraft of 10km all youre doing is slowing down to their speed. **Its called boom and zoom not boom and kinda stick around for a while**