I’m looking for a new bed and I’m curious about those offered by this company. I’ve been looking at all of the beds—DWR, Ashley, West Elm, CB2, Floyd, Thuma, you name it. My standards are high. I’m parting ways with a steel frame canopy bed that has lasted me 20 years. I understand that good furniture is an investment. At at the same time I’ve read a lot of reviews about more expensive furniture, such as DWR, and it seems that they are not exempt from poor quality. I can’t justify $5000 on a bed that breaks down in 5 years. Anyway, any insights on the quality of this furniture would be greatly appreciated. Does anyone have a bed by this company and how has the experience been? I am considering the skinny fat in queen size. Are they squeaky? Does the fabric hold up? How’s the customer service? Setting it up?

October 22nd 2077 This is the personal terminal of Dr. Joseph Wright Director and head of the Vault 815 experiment, logging for all future events.
Objective of the Vault: Study human behavior when normal subjects are given absolute authority over their peers
Hypothesis: In a close environment, a minority population with absolute authority over a majority will always lead to a brutal authoritarian regime. This can be useful in rebuilding America after the bombs to quickly build an efficient autocracy regardless of skill of the lower classes.
Preparation Phase: 80 residents were randomly selected through a series of standard interviews given to every control vault to determine admittance to Vault 815, as well as a behavioral analysis and an IQ test. 20 candidates out of said 80 residents who score low in IQ and high in aggression will be chosen to become a part of the “Security Team”. The Security Team will have complete authoritarian control of the vault, and will be tasked with keeping everything in complete order. The candidate that scores highest on aggression will be chosen to be the Overseer, which is now currently a 38 year old Caucasian male named Justin Davis, a veteran recently discharged from Anchorage due to a friendly fire incident involving a deserting soldier. On October 10th 2077, the candidates for the Security Team were brought to Vault 815 for a multi-day orientation. I, under the guise of an anthropologist, told them that in all of our research we found that most vaults would quickly destabilize socially without strict rationing, schedules, and cooperation from the rest of the residents. I was sure to emphasize just how important their jobs were, to give them a sense of urgency in controlling the vault as efficiently as possible.Of course, I used
Each resident was also given a “Security Team’s guide to dissidence, a Vault-Tec How To guide”, which was specially authored to teach the new security team how to prepare against any possible dissatisfaction that comes from the other 60 participants that will be joining the experiment. The guide exaggerates exactly what “dissidence” is, and encourages guards to break up gatherings, to oversee work and “use their own judgment” when deciding how to increase productivity. The Security Team were also shown their rooms, spacious 20x20 square foot rooms with king sized mattresses, all with their own personal showers, bathrooms, refrigeration units, climate control, and mood lighting that can be operated by the residents. All the rooms will be connected the a garden that will be tended by the vault’s Mr. Handy units. A concession stand will be put in the garden that will hand out snacks for the Security Team to enjoy in their off time. The snacks are laced with psycho, and buffout, to increase aggression and alertness
This is in stark contrast to the rest of the vault. The 60 other residents, who will henceforth be known as “Workers” will be divided into 30 rooms, sharing a bunk bed in a 5x10 room, that has enough space for a sink, a toilet, and a small communal desk with 2 chairs. The lights and air conditioning are controlled by a central control panel only accessible to the Security Team. As per the worker schedule, they are allotted 2 hours of personal release time in their own atrium. The atrium is deliberately painted dull, and lifeless, with 7.62x51mm machine gun turrets on full display, constantly aimed at the workers. The overseer’s office will look out to the Atrium, a constant reminder to the workers that they’re always being watched
Justin Davis, the new overseer, was given special orientation involving a personal tour of the vault, all the while we poked and prodded him for questions, massaging his ego, telling him how good of an overseer he was going to be. We applauded his exemplary IQ and showed him falsified documents proclaiming that he was chosen due to his cool collective nature and decisive action. We even congratulated him on “putting down that retreating commie who turned tale at the battle of Anchorage” and admired his bravado. We ended the tour by showing him the armory, which ranged from basic 10mm automatic pistols to advanced riot gear and crowd suppression technology, such as tear gas, and assaultrons designed for incapacitation.
On October 11th 2077, began physical training day. The Security Team were given physical and firearm training by Justin, who was more than happy to begin his role as a leader in the Vault. All things considered, Justin did well. There was an incident at the shooting range where one of the lower ranking Security Team members, Julianne Valdez, was reportedly “Limp Wristing” a 10mm automatic pistol, which caused Justin to verbally berate and physically assault her. Overall, the experiment team is very pleased with the results, and commendations were given to Justin for his strict discipline.
The Security Team was also given time to get to know the facility and get comfortable utilizing our active oppression systems, and were all told that above all else, it was critical that they follow the instructions of the overseer, since they know best. There were a few whispers of ethical concerns, but a short trip into the Security Team’s relaxation spa seemed to quell fears, which coincided with listing penalties for any officer a part of the Security Team who fail to appropriately use their authority to ensure vault productivity. At the end of the 2 day orientation, all 20 subjects were given welcome baskets of various dried meats, canned salted fish, and Nuka Cola. Naturally, Overseer Justin was given a disproportionately large bag compared to the rest of the team, which included champagne.
At this point, the Security Team is oriented, prepared, and eagerly awaiting their luxuries down in Vault 815. The 60 workers who were not given any sort of orientation were mailed postcards, simply letting them know that their place in Vault 815 was ready, and prepared for their future. Everything is green, I am certainly proud of my amazing team for everything going so smoothly. Should the heavens fall, we shall be down below, achieving science. Forwarding the green light status to our local Vault Tec HQ. With how everyone at Headquarters talk, I fear we have barely scraped by on our “deadline”.
This concludes my first terminal entry for the Vault 815 experiment. This is Dr. Wright logging off.

Factory name: Clean Factory
Model name (& version number): 124270 w/ VR3230
Album Links: https://imgur.com/a/7K4byST
Index alignment: To my eye the only one I think that might be crooked is the 12 very slightly. The top right corner seems closer to the hash mark than the top left corner making it so the top left corner passes a little further from the 59 second hash mark than the right corner does with the 1 second hashmark. The picture isn't perfectly straight though as there's a slight tilt with it being held and I could be overthinking it. I tried to straighten out the picture with the purple alignment lines to at least have them match the axis as best I could and kept the other untouched one in the album for comparison.
Dial Printing: Looks good
Date Wheel alignment/printing: N/A
Hand Alignment: Nothing jumps out to me.
Bezel: N/A
Solid End Links (SELs): No noticeable gaps although I'm not sure if I should look for anything else
Timegrapher numbers: -5 s/d w/ 293 amplitude. I think that's fine.
Anything else you notice: It has the "STEEL INOX" clasp flaw. I've done a bunch of research on RWI/Reptime around this and the RWI crowd seems to think the "STEEL INOX" bracelets break whereas the "STEELINOX" ones do not however the reports I see around this all seemed to be around 6-7 months ago so it could have just been a bad batch then with no correlation to how STEELINOX is spelled out. Here are the links for reference on what I mean with the bracelet:

• https://www.reddit.com/RepTimeServices/comments/17i8l99/clean_explorer_1_bracelet_is_there_any_fix/
• https://www.reddit.com/RepTime/comments/17stn8l/comment/k8v7vfa/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button
• https://forum.replica-watch.info/threads/explorer-i-124270-gen-clean-comprehensive-comparison.10953455/post-11720147

Seriously; If there's One Poppy Playtime Question I want Answered more than ANY Others. . .
IT'S WHO THE **** WE'VE BEEN PLAYING AS SINCE CHAPTER 1. . .
We literally know NOTHING about them; and Yet; In Spite of that; We Still don't Get THAT answer in the Orientation Notebook that SUPPOSEDLY answers everything that we don't get to find out in the games themselves; but for 3 Chapters we STILL Don't know WHO We've been playing as; We don't know their gender, their name, their position within the factory; Why they came back; Why they didn't show up to get killed by the toys during the Hour of Joy on August 8th, 1995; We Don't know whether they are OR were a good person; we Don't know whether or not they had more SINISTER Ulterior Motives for returning; Like Destroying any & all evidence of their wrongdoing, or silencing any remaining employees
Seriously; for a Book that SUPPOSEDLY answers the Questions that the games don't answer; THEY SURE Didn't answer the game's BIGGEST Mystery(or at the least; they didn't answer the question I Wanted answered more than anything else)
Will we EVER get confirmation of information about the Person we Play as in every chapter?!
Will we have to wait for The Two Upcoming Books foreshadowed & teased within the Orientation Notebook that May answer that question; or will we have to wait until the VERY Final Chapter of Poppy Playtime; to Finally find out who the **** we've been playing as this entire time

Tuesday, May 07 - Monday, May 13, 2024

Top Media

score	comments	title & link	mirrors
185	18 comments	Song I wrote about transitioning "someday when I'm pretty"
35	8 comments	Heyo- I imagine there's some Harley Poe fans here
23	3 comments	We The Heathens - Neurotic Decay - DIY Sessions	[Sp] [AM]
22	13 comments	New Jesse Wells Tune: Whistle Boeing
19	4 comments	Ludlow - "Trust No Cop"	[Sp] [BC] [Dzr] [SC]
13	0 comments	the things we thought we had to do - Styles Dangerfield
12	0 comments	Is this folk punk?
12	3 comments	How low - another song
11	1 comments	You Don't Deserve Yourself - AJJ (cover)	[Sp] [BC] [Dzr] [SC]
10	2 comments	POOPS Vinyl

 

Top Remaining

score	comments	title & link	mirrors
151	16 comments	wingnut
133	11 comments	help, my cat started listening to dnd and wearing jean shorts?? keeps begging to be let outside so he can go to the nearest train station..
112	31 comments	Share your folkestpunkest tattoo
102	29 comments	All I want to do is stand in a crowd of people while we all sing Pat the Bunny songs at the top of our lungs.
96	15 comments	Jimmy hobo or smth
89	9 comments	My friend is upset I didn't post her crusty stick and poke butt tattoo to the internet. If it was a mixtape cover, what songs would be on it?
70	16 comments	escape from the zooooo
61	7 comments	Porch Cat here! I heard we are sharing folk punk tattoos! This is my musical saw tattoo that Sage from Ludlow did for me last year 🖤
52	89 comments	Hey, folks. Been thinkin' about starting a small folk punk band with a couple friends, kind of dry on names. Anyone got any idea's?
46	21 comments	Bands like Holy Locust?

 

Top 5 Most Commented

score	comments	title & link	mirrors
41	62 comments	Good folk punk to listen to while on acid?
10	60 comments	Folk songs about Palestine?
41	25 comments	Place to escape for a bit? Weird request
10	18 comments	Looking for suggestions
0	16 comments	RIP 'King', Rex Murphy, the man who helped shape Canada in his image, rest in power reporter

 

So at the moment my friend and I are on non speaking terms (long story short apparently she can’t handle my mental health rn which is depression and just cut ties with me for a while) yes I may have not been the easiest to deal with for the past couple months but I’m just at a loss right now . Basically she has a friend named Jackie (fake name) who are just as bad if not “worse” like by making rude comments about people’s appearance or constantly talking about them selves and tries to one up who has it worse . Funny part is that she is always posting on her social medias about being good to others and treat people kindly . Anyways we are in college and I walk by Jackie frequently to get to my classes . I say hi a few times and she obviously hears and sees me and just looks away . Mind you I hung out with her before many many times. As much as I want to say something I just know it will my friends and I situation worse especially at the state we’re at. Any advice

“Replay” Zendaya is a cambion on she has human mother just like i been said not new info and when Saturn returns even if its only one parents your still demented and of your FATHER the devil! The mother is important as well as the Father! Daybreyah can’t claim me i vern made a child myself in alien 👽 years not only that had her mother not been so foul disrespectful and forcing him to do child support something my mother neverrrrrrrr did i would gad more sympathy because she forced this she is directly responsible for Enslaving me. Zendaya has better estate than to gave a demon mother! In Judiasm the mothers seed matters more. And my brother darkness and she for fck sake can’t claim me. The brother with black people they too like white people don’t know whos who who belongs to which race. Satan comes in all colors even in with in the same group but sub branch or slightly different offshoot. Her mother is dark skin yes but not a holy race her mother is a nubian same way Aquila (oh they steal names) Haim shalom’s baby mom is .. dark skin can be a problem of you don’t know who or what.. curses are passed thru the father.. my brother is no man.. my dad isn’t either but a manipulator he Spins his inward condition on to my mom.. which in marriage you become one.. They reversed roles exactly why no one in their right mind would hold on to a “ring AD”.. MOVE ON. Nor can you claim another’s mans cross thats not your husband .. Herodias .. Most nations when wiped out all the men are killed and whiped out exactly why one should live truthful seek truth.. because the sins of that father will be passed on. And often the victor claims your women.. replacing your seed so it doesn’t pay to be a COWARD or ignorant.. I’m not Expert but in my genes is intuitive knowing better than most.. on who’s who.. i still had to go thru “Samaria” (West bank) 🏦 and you seeing that play out right now with the West .. I can’t stand a educated foolish n*gga in business they have NO BUSINESS ZERO data for .. white women are guilty of this too.. “Obama and his mother” you never gonna see me fake teach a class in a subject Im weak in.. I want on record son you were warned and see my true fact and complete essence I will NOT have sympathy on this child again.. she means NOTHING to me.. just so you know. Any relationship that is based on deception, usury, trickery ends BAD only on the movies and entertainment someone forgives a bad foundation.. nothing good comes out of a BAD FOUNDATION.

Context: My parents are both emotionally immature, my mom is what you would call an almond mom, she has a lot of self image issues and ED that she doesn’t recognize and believes a women’s worth is based on how thin she is. My dad has anger issues and is just always mad about everything. I’m 20F, I’m a med student and I moved away to college, this is my 2nd year and during during my first year of uni I gained 10kg (20lbs) because I started on anxiety meds. I was really skinny before this because my anxiety would make me loose my apetite, so when I got my anxiety under control I started to eat more and gained weight. Mind you I was still in a healthy weight. This was hell for my mom, to not have skinny daughter. She called me fat every single day, every conversation we had was about my weight and my appearance, she called me really ugly names and used to say she was embarrassed of me, my dad would also do all of this but he’s overweight. So they started to send me much less money so I wouldn’t eat. I decided to go to the gym and started eating healthy, went on nutri appointments, overall started loosing weight, got an eating disorder, and when they saw this they were so happy and started to send me so much more money as a way of positive reinforcement. The problem was it was never enough, there was always this celulite that’s still here, or the fact that you’re still wearing an “M” skirt, or the vegetables I was eating had to much “sugar”. So I told my mom it’s enough, you’re never satisfied, the only thing you talk about is my weight and what I eat. She hang up on me, sent me a paragraph saying I was a spoiled brat, ungrateful for everything she does for me, she’s sick of me and that I should quit uni and get a job to see how difficult it is (she always threatens taking my degree away). So they came to visit with no notice the next day and we got into this whole fight where I was saying “when I gained weight you called me this and this and it really hurt me”, to which she responded “I never said that, you’re a liar and manipulative person who twists the truth to make me look bad” and so I said “but you also called me gay every single day”, to which she shouted “BECAUSE YOU WERE FAT AND ALSO IM YOUR MOM SO I GET TO CALL YOU WHATEVER I WANT, AND IT WORKED BECAUSE YOU ARE LOOSING WEIGHT”, I swore on my life that she really did say those things and she said I would get cancer from swearing on fake things. She also said that I only remember the bad things she did for me, never the good ones like “working all her life to give me everything” mind you my parents are loaded, they wear 1000$ outfits and I never ask for anything but they still complain about having to give me money to literally survive at uni. btw my uni is like 90$/month. So yeah, the whole conversation about me being ungrateful because they put food on the table so I should have nothing to complain about. After that we got into my childhood and how I had to be independent because I couldn’t rely on them for anything because they’re so emotionally unavailable and my mom hit me with “you’re grandfather was there for you, but you didn’t even care when he died because you’re heartless”. At that point I got up and left the dinner table and went crying to my room. I didn’t cry at my grandpas funeral because I was still in shock and I had to be there to hold my grandma and my dad from holding into the casket and throwing themselves into the hole. So yeah pretty traumatic, I couldn’t even process the loss. The next day I took them to the airport and my mom usually calls everyday but she hasn’t called in like a week so idk what to do.

Opening brief here.

Statute at Issue

18 USC § 922(o):
(1) Except as provided in paragraph (2), it shall be unlawful for any person to transfer or possess a machinegun.
(2) This subsection does not apply with respect to—
(A) a transfer to or by, or possession by or under the authority of, the United States or any department or agency thereof or a State, or a department, agency, or political subdivision thereof; or
(B) any lawful transfer or lawful possession of a machinegun that was lawfully possessed before the date this subsection takes effect. (That is, 5/19/1986)

Background

In January of 2020, ATF Agent Jason Weber negotiated with Kittson through Nikki, an informant, regarding the purchase of an unstamped WWII-era Russian-manufactured PPSh-41, which was not under Kittson’s possession and had a nonfunctional drum mag. Weber was then re-directed to another home under construction, and the renovator (not the homeowner) named Ray Bohanan had firearms including the PPSh. Bohanan, who happened to be a gun aficionado and a “survivalist” and was planning to retreat to a bunker he built in rural Oregon, had been convicted of a domestic violence misdemeanor and charged with narcotics possession, so he was prohibited under 18 USC §§ 922(g)(3) & (g)(9), respectively. However, Bohanon was never arrested and died in June of 2020. Kittson got indicted under 18 USC §§ 922(o) (Count 1) & 922(g)(1) (Count 2) and got arrested on May 28, 2021 per the arrest warrant.

Second Amendment Issue

At district level, besides citing Henry still being good law as Bruen didn’t disturb Heller and Miller, the government provided laws forbidding carrying weapons in terrorem populi, none of which are relevantly similar let alone distinctly similar to banning mere possession of certain arms. Judge Immergut (the same one for Measure 114) upheld the Hughes Amendment (18 USC § 922(o)) by citing the former. The problem with Henry, which was decided pre-Bruen, is that it used the fact that full autos are not in common use today (i.e. unusual) because of the Hughes Amendment. By using “dangerous and unusual”, the defender in the brief says the Henry panel used interest balancing to uphold the Hughes Amendment. In footnote 6, the 3rd Circuit en banc panel in the Range case warned courts to not latch onto and “overread” certain phrases like “law-abiding, responsible citizens” (and, though not mentioned, “presumptively lawful”) to uphold laws in question, especially via interest-balancing. The problem with Henry was that it didn’t use text, history, and tradition on whether full autos constituted “arms” under the plain text and whether the ban on possessing full autos is consistent with the Nation’s historical tradition of firearm regulation (or, it didn’t faithfully apply Heller). Rather, Henry used purely empirical and data analysis to uphold the ban and conclude that full autos are “dangerous and unusual”.
As we can see, one can say that the judge used interest balancing by saying that their own understanding of “unusual” derived from the numbers instead of using the THT method to understand what “unusual” historically meant. Personally speaking, I find that the evidence of interest-balancing in the Henry case is not really obvious, and the main error is that they misread Heller, especially its dicta, which “is inconceivable that [one] would rest [his or her] interpretation of the basic meaning of any guarantee of the Bill of Rights upon such a footnoted dictum in a case where the point [like the full auto] was not at issue and was not argued” per Heller’s footnote 25. The brief also cites the Duarte opinion as a good example of a very good application of text, history, and tradition of permanent disarmament of certain “people” like “felons” despite Heller saying that the law in question was “presumptively lawful.”

Summary of Other Issues

As mentioned earlier, Kittson claimed that he never actually or constructively possessed a machine gun. However, Kittson could have been charged for aiding and abetting the machinegun transfer, but defender claims that is defensible on 2 grounds. Statutorily speaking, the transferee was an ATF agent, so the transfer is lawful under § 922(o)(2)(A). The part where he can get criminally charged is Kittson’s lack of knowledge of Weber’s government status. Factually speaking, the PPSh-41 (which was historically unreliable mainly due to the drum mag) was nonfunctional because the magazine it was sold with was nonfunctional and incapable of being repaired to function (hmm, reminds me of the government saying that one need not have a magazine in order for a gun to function), so they unsuccessfully claimed that this wasn’t classifiable as a machinegun. That fact, however, was “omitted,” as Judge Immergut in the jury instructions said that a functioning magazine need not be equipped for a weapon to qualify as a full auto. Judge Immergut also didn’t allow the jury to factor in 922(o)(2)(A) (government exemptions) when giving the verdict, which deprived Kittson of his right to confront the charges and evidence against him and present a defense. Finally, the sentencing proceeding violated Kittson’s right to due process and a fair and impartial adjudicator. Judge Immergut’s fact findings were based on her personal practice as an Oregon state judge, not on evidence produced by the government. In this case, there was no evidence regarding some state judicial procedure relating to Kittson’s prior convictions produced by the government, but Judge Immergut decided to factor in anyway by awarding 1 criminal history point. By doing so, the court made itself a witness, thereby abandoning the requirement of neutrality.

If you ask other RVers which national park is their favorite, someone is bound to mention Joshua Tree National Park in Southern California. It's a camper's paradise with wide open space and panoramic views.
Most evenings, the landscape glows at golden hour, and the sky turns from red hot at sunset to dark blue and star-filled at night. You can enjoy the remoteness of the park but also its proximity to Palm Springs and the Coachella Valley.
Take the time during your visit to enjoy the endless roads of the desert landscape, play on the rock formations, and, of course, marvel at the Joshua Trees.

Why Visit Joshua Tree National Park?

The first reason to visit Joshua Tree National Park is to see its famous and fascinating Joshua Trees. Since the Mojave desert is the only place in the world where they grow naturally, Joshua Tree National Park is the best place to see them.
These trees range between 15-40 feet tall and can live an impressive 150 years. They’re members of the Yucca family and appear as though they're from a different planet, with limbs unpredictably jetting out like they have their own minds.
Another great reason to visit Joshua Tree National Park is the warm weather and abundance of sunshine. It’s no secret that RVers love to snowbird and the Californian desert is a wonderful place to be during the spring and fall months. You’ll enjoy sunny days and clear nights, perfect for dry camping with solar panels.

When to Visit Joshua Tree National Park

Joshua Tree National Park is open year-round, but the best times to visit are during the spring and fall months. Park elevations range from 536 feet to 5,814 feet above sea level, so expect conditions to vary depending on where you go in the park.
Here’s more information on the seasonal weather in Joshua Tree.

Spring

Spring is a very popular time in the park because the temperatures range from the mid-60s in February to the mid-70s in April. Depending on the year, wildflower blooms can be seen in the latter part of spring at the lower elevations within the Pinto Basin.

Summer

Due to extreme desert heat (+100℉ days are the norm), the park is pretty quiet during the summer. Late in the summer, monsoon season hits Joshua Tree, which cools down the daytime temperatures but can also lead to flash flooding in valleys and ravines.

Fall

Monsoon season continues into the fall, but it soon gives way to one of the best times to visit. Temperatures from August into October fall from the upper 90s into the low 80s, and evening temperatures range from the low 70s to the low 50s, on average.

Winter

In the heart of winter, the park's average daily temperature is 60 degrees Fahrenheit, which is perfectly comfortable, but the nights get cold and often drop to freezing. Overnight temperatures in December and January average in the mid-30s.
Check the park’s website for the latest weather alerts and condition updates.

Where to Stay

Joshua Tree National Park is pretty remote and expansive. You'll want to stay a few days. Unlike other national parks, there are no lodges or resorts for overnight accommodations. There are eight developed campgrounds, however, and camping out under the stars at Joshua Tree is an unforgettable experience.
Here are a few important things to be aware of ahead of time if you plan to camp in Joshua Tree.

Reservation versus First-Come, First-Served

Four of the developed campsites require reservations. They’re larger than the first-come, first-served campgrounds, and some offer water and flush toilets. These campgrounds fill up very quickly. We recommend planning well in advance.

Reservation Required Campgrounds

• Black Rock Campground
• Cottonwood Campground
• Indian Cove Campground
• Jumbo Rocks Campground

Black Rock and Cottonwood are the most developed campgrounds (water, toilets, sanitation dump) and are the only campgrounds you can stay in if you have a larger rig.
Black Rock has six sites that can accommodate rigs with a total length (tow vehicle included) of 38-40 feet and seven sites up to 42 feet. Cottonwood has around twenty-five campsites that can accommodate rigs slightly longer than 35 feet.
Indian Cove and Jumbo Rocks both have a few spots for RVs up to 35 feet in total length. If you have a rig larger than 35 feet, site availability may be considerably limited.

First-come, First-served Campgrounds

These campgrounds are great options if you have a smaller rig and the good fortune of securing a site. During the popular season, these campgrounds fill every weekend and often during the week, as well.

• Belle Campground
• Hidden Valley Campground
• Ryan Campground
• White Tank Campground

These are primitive campgrounds, so you will need to bring (and carry out) everything you’ll need during your stay.

Staying Outside the Park

If you’re unable to find a site in the park or you’re looking for a campground with more amenities, here are a few nearby campgrounds:

• TwentyNine Palms RV Resort and Cottages: About 10 minutes from the north entrance.
• Sam’s Family Spa and Resort: About 45 minutes from the main visitor center.
• Catalina Spa and RV Resort: About 50 minutes from the main visitor center.
• Palm Springs Oasis RV Resort: About 45 minutes from the south entrance.
• Indian Waters RV Resort and Cottages: About 30 minutes from the south entrance.

Invest in a Good Sam Membership and save 10% on nightly stays at Good Sam Campgrounds.

Tips for Your Camping Stay

• Reservations for the reservable campgrounds can be made up to six months in advance.
• Reserve using the links below or by calling 1-877-444-6777.
  • Black Rock Campground
  • Cottonwood Campground
  • Indian Cove Campground
  • Jumbo Rocks Campground
• No campgrounds in the park offer electric RV hookups.
• Generator use is restricted to 7-9 am, noon-2 pm, and 5-7 pm.
• Hammocks are not permitted in campgrounds and must be hung from rocks or climbing bolts elsewhere to protect the park’s sensitive vegetation.
• Backpacking is permitted in the park, but it requires more advanced planning and preparation.

How To Get Around

Nestled between I-10 and California SR 62, Joshua Tree is located in Southeastern California and is easy to access. Several towns nearby, including Palm Springs, Indio, and Twentynine Palms, make perfect supply stops before entering the park.
Indio is the last best stop on I-10 if you’re entering the park from the south. The park’s south entrance is located off Exit 168, about 30 minutes east of Indio. The park also offers a west entrance on Quail Springs Road, about 10 minutes southeast of the town of Joshua Tree. And the north entrance is just ten minutes south of Twentynine Palms on Utah Trail.
Several paved roads allow you to traverse the park, but going from site to site can require long drive times. The most frequented sites are located near the northern edge of the park, so if you’re coming from the south along I-10, you’ll be driving through the park for an hour or so before you spot your first Joshua Tree.

Places to Go

There are many places to visit in the park that offer a variety beyond the infamous trees. It’s a unique location that features the intersection of two desert ecosystems.

Cholla Cactus Garden

The Cholla Cactus Garden is its own special area and is unlike any other part of the park. Be sure to enjoy the flat, ¼-mile nature trail to get the best look at the cacti. This patch of cacti is incredible because it mostly consists of Teddybear Cholla, which is the star of the cactus world.
The Cholla Cactus Garden is so impressive, and you’ll love snapping photos of these majestic plants. Their beauty changes throughout the day depending on how the sunlight hits them. A small word of advice, look but don’t touch. Ouch!

Arch Rock

Arch Rock is a very popular rock formation located a half-mile from White Tank Campground. The loop trail is easy to follow and a perfect activity for the whole family. Of course, the Arch Rock itself is the thing people most want to see, but there's lots of space to wander around and explore the other rock formations, too.
It’s also a very popular place for night photography and stargazing. If interested, White Tank Campground is a really convenient place to stay because of its proximity to the trailhead.

Keys View

Keys View is a popular lookout that offers incredible panoramic views of the park and the Coachella Valley. If beautiful scenery is your thing, make sure to visit Keys View. It’s about a 20-minute drive from the main road to the lookout via Keys View Rd.

Ryan Mountain

One of the most popular activities in the park is the hike to Ryan Mountain. This 3-mile round trip trail leads to the summit, where you’ll be treated to sweeping 360-degree views. The hike is listed as challenging by the NPS, so be sure to bring plenty of water and expect changing weather conditions.

Things to Do

The combination of the Mojave Desert and the Colorado Desert makes Joshua Tree a wonderful desert wilderness to explore. Here are some of the most popular activities in the park:

Hiking

Hiking is a great way to get off the road and experience more of the desert landscape. The National Park Service offers plenty of safety tips for hiking in Joshua Tree, and here are some of the park’s most popular trails:

• Barker Dam Trail: An easy 1.1-mile trail with interpretive exhibits containing information on park history. It’s a popular place for viewing bighorn sheep from a safe distance.
• Oasis of Mara Trail: A 0.5-mile trail to explore a desert oasis and learn how it’s harbored human and animal life for centuries.
• Lost Horse Mine Trail: A moderate 4-mile out and back trail to explore what was once the area’s most successful gold mine.
• Mastodon Peak Trail: A moderate 3-mile loop trail with an optional scramble to the top of a granite peak.
• Lost Palms Oasis Trail: A challenging 7.5-mile out and back trail down a canyon to one of the park’s most remote fan palm oases.

The Park Service DOES NOT recommend attempting challenging hikes in the heat due to the elevated risk of sun exposure and dehydration.

Mountain Biking

The majority of the park’s paved roads are not suitable for road cycling. However, several backcountry roads are perfect for mountain bikes. There are even three campsites within Ryan Campground dedicated to cyclists.
Be aware that bikes are only allowed on roads open to vehicle traffic but that the main park roads do not offer bike lanes or wide shoulders. Consult the park’s website for safety tips and road recommendations before biking in Joshua Tree.

Photography

Photographers love Joshua Tree because of the variety it contains. From sunrise to sunset, photographers can find landscapes, animal inhabitants, and even human visitors to place in frame.
Commercial photography does require a permit, and if you’re interested in expanding your knowledge, the Desert Institute offers field courses in partnership with the Joshua Tree National Park Association.

Stargazing

Stars can be hard to come by in urban areas like San Diego and Los Angeles, but Joshua Tree is a different story. Designated as an International Dark Sky Park, it offers some of the best stargazing in all of Southern California.
After the sun goes down, keep your headlamp in red light mode to preserve your night vision. Your eyes will need less time to adjust when you lie down to see how many shooting stars you can count!

Rock Climbing

Rock climbing, in addition to bouldering and slacklining, is another great activity to enjoy in the park. To date, there are more than 8,000 known climbing routes, over 2,000 bouldering problems, and numerous natural rock gaps that make the perfect spot to set up a slackline.
On a busy weekend, the park may have hundreds of climbers enjoying their slice of this monzogranite mecca. So be sure to follow Leave No Trace Principles and familiarize yourself with the park’s climbing management plan before your visit.

What to Bring and How to Prepare

• The desert can be dangerous, and the weather can change quickly. Check the forecast frequently and pack layers to prepare for changing conditions.
• The remote location means there is no cell service in many parts of the park. Communicate your plans to loved ones or authorities ahead of time, especially if traveling alone.
• Investing in a cell signal booster may improve cell reception in areas with limited service.
• A quality camping cooler is a great way to keep food and beverages cold in the heat of the desert.
• Bring an extra canopy tent and ensure your awning is in good condition so you can escape direct sunlight during the heat of the day.
• Keep up with air conditioner maintenance to regulate the temperature inside your RV.
• For the latest info on visiting Joshua Tree, visit their website: Joshua Tree National Park.

Brief History of Joshua Tree National Park

Despite its harsh desert environment, humans have inhabited the area that is now Joshua Tree for more than 5,000 years. In the modern era, the biggest threats to this natural environment were land developers and cactus poachers.
In the late 1920s, a Pasadena resident named Minerva Hoyt began voicing her concerns about the unregulated removal of cacti and other desert plants to be used in home gardens throughout Los Angeles.
In a relatively short time, her conservation efforts resulted in the formation of the Joshua Tree National Monument in 1936. The original protected area encompassed roughly 825,000 acres but was reduced by about 265,000 acres in 1950 when the Park Service excluded certain mining parcels in the eastern part of the park.
On Halloween in 1994, the Desert Protection Bill passed and Joshua Tree was elevated to national park status. The bill also added back approximately 234,000 acres of what had been lost in the 50s.
Plan your next trip to the national parks in an RV. Rent an RV, trade-In your RV, or buy a new or used RV and start traveling for less than $5 a day.
Have you been to Joshua Tree National Park? Share your tips and advice in the comments below.

Opening brief here.

Statute at Issue

18 USC § 922(o):
(1) Except as provided in paragraph (2), it shall be unlawful for any person to transfer or possess a machinegun.
(2) This subsection does not apply with respect to—
(A) a transfer to or by, or possession by or under the authority of, the United States or any department or agency thereof or a State, or a department, agency, or political subdivision thereof; or
(B) any lawful transfer or lawful possession of a machinegun that was lawfully possessed before the date this subsection takes effect. (That is, 5/19/1986)

Background

In January of 2020, ATF Agent Jason Weber negotiated with Kittson through Nikki, an informant, regarding the purchase of an unstamped WWII-era Russian-manufactured PPSh-41, which was not under Kittson’s possession and had a nonfunctional drum mag. Weber was then re-directed to another home under construction, and the renovator (not the homeowner) named Ray Bohanan had firearms including the PPSh. Bohanan, who happened to be a gun aficionado and a “survivalist” and was planning to retreat to a bunker he built in rural Oregon, had been convicted of a domestic violence misdemeanor and charged with narcotics possession, so he was prohibited under 18 USC §§ 922(g)(3) & (g)(9), respectively. However, Bohanon was never arrested and died in June of 2020. Kittson got indicted under 18 USC §§ 922(o) (Count 1) & 922(g)(1) (Count 2) and got arrested on May 28, 2021 per the arrest warrant.

Second Amendment Issue

At district level, besides citing Henry still being good law as Bruen didn’t disturb Heller and Miller, the government provided laws forbidding carrying weapons in terrorem populi, none of which are relevantly similar let alone distinctly similar to banning mere possession of certain arms. Judge Immergut (the same one for Measure 114) upheld the Hughes Amendment (18 USC § 922(o)) by citing the former. The problem with Henry, which was decided pre-Bruen, is that it used the fact that full autos are not in common use today (i.e. unusual) because of the Hughes Amendment. By using “dangerous and unusual”, the defender in the brief says the Henry panel used interest balancing to uphold the Hughes Amendment. In footnote 6, the 3rd Circuit en banc panel in the Range case warned courts to not latch onto and “overread” certain phrases like “law-abiding, responsible citizens” (and, though not mentioned, “presumptively lawful”) to uphold laws in question, especially via interest-balancing. The problem with Henry was that it didn’t use text, history, and tradition on whether full autos constituted “arms” under the plain text and whether the ban on possessing full autos is consistent with the Nation’s historical tradition of firearm regulation (or, it didn’t faithfully apply Heller). Rather, Henry used purely empirical and data analysis to uphold the ban and conclude that full autos are “dangerous and unusual”.
As we can see, one can say that the judge used interest balancing by saying that their own understanding of “unusual” derived from the numbers instead of using the THT method to understand what “unusual” historically meant. Personally speaking, I find that the evidence of interest-balancing in the Henry case is not really obvious, and the main error is that they misread Heller, especially its dicta, which “is inconceivable that [one] would rest [his or her] interpretation of the basic meaning of any guarantee of the Bill of Rights upon such a footnoted dictum in a case where the point [like the full auto] was not at issue and was not argued” per Heller’s footnote 25. The brief also cites the Duarte opinion as a good example of a very good application of text, history, and tradition of permanent disarmament of certain “people” like “felons” despite Heller saying that the law in question was “presumptively lawful.”

Summary of Other Issues

As mentioned earlier, Kittson claimed that he never actually or constructively possessed a machine gun. However, Kittson could have been charged for aiding and abetting the machinegun transfer, but defender claims that is defensible on 2 grounds. Statutorily speaking, the transferee was an ATF agent, so the transfer is lawful under § 922(o)(2)(A). The part where he can get criminally charged is Kittson’s lack of knowledge of Weber’s government status. Factually speaking, the PPSh-41 (which was historically unreliable mainly due to the drum mag) was nonfunctional because the magazine it was sold with was nonfunctional and incapable of being repaired to function (hmm, reminds me of the government saying that one need not have a magazine in order for a gun to function), so they unsuccessfully claimed that this wasn’t classifiable as a machinegun. That fact, however, was “omitted,” as Judge Immergut in the jury instructions said that a functioning magazine need not be equipped for a weapon to qualify as a full auto. Judge Immergut also didn’t allow the jury to factor in 922(o)(2)(A) (government exemptions) when giving the verdict, which deprived Kittson of his right to confront the charges and evidence against him and present a defense. Finally, the sentencing proceeding violated Kittson’s right to due process and a fair and impartial adjudicator. Judge Immergut’s fact findings were based on her personal practice as an Oregon state judge, not on evidence produced by the government. In this case, there was no evidence regarding some state judicial procedure relating to Kittson’s prior convictions produced by the government, but Judge Immergut decided to factor in anyway by awarding 1 criminal history point. By doing so, the court made itself a witness, thereby abandoning the requirement of neutrality.

Hei, hi and hello!
I’m Onsie Onsfjord or Fjord feel free to call me whichever is not mind to me.
I’m a 26-year-old English Norwegian who’s mainly lived his whole life in the United Kingdom and graduated from university with a degree in Computer Networks and is now working as a DIE for the NHS (Digital Infrastructure Engineer).
Caught you off guard with that job title acronym huh? Yeah, trust me when I first started it had me in fits of laughter, but you get used to it after a while.
So a bit about me; - I’m an introvert and tend to avoid public crowds, events and such and just try to vibe with friends on a nice game of anything (which you’ll see below) - I’m an avid IT nerd and will most likely remain this way for my whole career as IT is my education and career at this point - On top of IT you guessed it I’m also a very big avid “gamer” I mainly play PC and PS5 games with my current interests being in Helldivers 2, Star Wars: The Fallen Order, and Jedi: Survivor amongst a few other things like WoW, CoD, SWTOR and so on. - I love learning, whether it be history, game lore, languages, cultures, etc. You name it, and I’ll probably be interested in it (Trust me, you give me a flag of any country, and I’ll be able to tell you the country’s name and political structure. - I’m also an avid book reader and you’ll most likely see my shelf full of different manga from all types of genres, I don’t particularly watch anime, I mainly read instead because I find it more “interesting” for better or not. (Not that I'm opposed to watching it) - I’m trying to learn to cook myself but not very good at it as my most recent attempt I ended up giving myself food poisoning so it’s sufficient to say you will have a big gamble if you’d like me to cook ha-ha. - I do watch football from time to time and do support a few clubs from around the world (mainly northern Europe, the UK, and the US) feel free to guess if you’d like! - I’m currently on a VLCD and have lost about 2 stone within 1 month which I’m super super happy about.
In terms of looks and such I’m what an average 26-year-old would look like who is 6’1/6’2 with a picture on request.
Please don’t judge too much as I’m still working on improving myself.
What am I about? I’ve always made it a goal to help, care for, and support those close to me, whether it be friends, old friends, or the equivalent of my family. They’ve been there for me, and I’ll go hell and back for them as they’ve stood by me through thick and thin, even through the loss of other close friends; they’ve picked me up and brushed me down and set me straight to which I will always forever be in their debt and have helped them being.
Whilst I’ve been shot and backstabbed by many of those who I thought were close to me I just try and see the positive and avoid the unnecessary drama and arguments as life is just way too generally short for that kind of stuff and we should all get along with each other in my mind.
What am I looking for? I apologize if this comes off as really picky - Someone in the realm of the US, Canada or Europe - Someone between the age of 20 to 28 years old - Someone who has an interest in IT, manga, gaming, and such (It’s easier to talk to people with the same interest I’ve found though you don’t need to work in IT at all) - Just be a kind honest individual who I can back and vice versa. Be there for each other.
I am looking for a monogamous and serious relationship and not a friendship, however, I’m fine with starting out as friends whilst getting to know each other etc.
The end? Well, I’d like to say that this was the short and sweet version of myself without giving much more away about me but hey hopefully you’ve stayed this far and if you have, I have a very small simple request for you!
If you do decide I’m someone you’d like to get to know and all of that stuff then when messaging me, please make a somewhat attempt of an introduction (I’m not asking for the mass of paragraphs or anything) just a hi, your name (doesn’t have to be your real name), where you’re from, how old are you, what you do, hobbies, etc and we’ll go from there!
Low-effort chats & messages will be removed also, so I know that you’ve made it this far please put your answers to this question (wrong answers don’t matter, it’s what is attempted counts)
“I was born in the winter on a remembrance day, which day was this?”
Take care and hope to see your message 😊

The world was a boozy whirl of lights and sounds. Images, broken and fragmented, came and went. Voices, laughter, screaming. The ground pitched like the deck of a tempest-tossed ship, and he felt heavy, as though the ground were pulling him to it. C’mere, Dommy. He fell, lay on the pavement, and pushed himself up again, staggering like a drunk on his way home. His head spun, his body ached, and things seemed blurry, like half-formed images glimpsed underwater.
It was the light blue hour before dawn and Dom was…somewhere. He should have recognized the stores and street signs around him, but he didn’t. His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, and a sense of confusion gripped him so strongly that he was beginning to panic. Where was he? What happened?
The world spun away again and the next thing he knew, he was lying in a heap of garbage bags, used needles, and rubbish. He came awake with a jerk and sat up so fast that a bolt of pain jammed into his skull. He winced and pressed his hand to his forehead. He felt hot, clammy.
Something was seriously wrong.
Somehow he got to his feet again and started walking. The sun was up now and the streets were filled with people. They all sneered in disgust as he passed, and he wrapped his arms around his chest like a baby comforting itself. He was getting cold. His muscles were sore. Tears streamed down his face and he wanted to cry.
Going on instinct alone, Dom made his way back home and climbed the steps to his apartment. Exhaustion swept over him and he sagged against the door as he dug in his pocket for the keys. They shook in his hand and he had to focus really hard to get the key into the lock.
Inside, he collapsed onto the couch and his eyelids instantly drooped. He was so weary that he couldn’t lift his head, couldn’t form a single coherent thought. Dom felt himself starting to sink, and snapped his eyes open with a start. Something in his soul told him that if he slept, he would die.
He couldn’t help it, though. He was falling, tumbling, hands reaching up from hell to grab him. His eyes fluttered closed again and the world started to go dark, his heart slamming in fear. He tried to fight, but the pull of darkness was too strong, too alluring. Why was he fighting? Why not just…give up? Hadn’t he thought of killing himself before? Didn’t he hate his life and himself? What was there to fight for? A wife? Kids? A community that loved and respected him? Shit, affordable groceries?
No.
There was nothing.
He had nothing and was nothing.
A sense of peace blossomed from the darkness, and suddenly death didn’t seem so scary. In fact, it was warm…inviting.
It was life that was cold and hateful. Not death.
Death accepted you no matter who you were. It didn’t reject you…it didn’t ignore you. If you sought it, you would find it, and if you embraced it, it would embrace you.
With that thought in mind, Dom gave up.
And died.
***
Bruce Kenner, captain of the 5th Albany precinct, sat behind his desk on the morning of June 28 and lazily leafed through a stack of files as he sipped from a mug of coffee. A roughly built man with a dark goatee and graying blonde hair, he looked more like a small town southern sheriff than a low level public works functionary. In fact, he tended to act like it too. He liked to hunt, fish, and drink beer on his off time. Albany wasn’t a big city, but it was big enough that you never got a fucking break. Run here, run there, arrest this asshole, investigate that asshole. By the time Friday rolled around, he was so ready for the peace and tranquility of a fishing trip he could taste it.
Already this Monday morning, he was looking forward to another one.
Over the weekend, three kids went missing in the Pine Hills and Washington Park area, bringing the total for that summer up to eight. All were teenagers, all were troubled. Most were boys, but two were girls.
Troubled kids run away all the time. They might be gone a few days, sulking at a friend’s house over something their father or mother did, but they’d eventually come home. None of these kids had come back yet and from what he knew, a few of them weren’t the runaway types. They were shits at school and caused problems, but they had no reason to up and leave. Hell, Bruce himself raised hell as a kid, but he always found his way back home, even if he spent the previous night dying in a field from Mad Dogg 20/20 poisoning.
One or two kids going missing…okay, it happens. Eight? Over a span of four weeks?
Yeah, something was wrong here.
But what?
There was nothing on any of these kids. No one saw them, no one knew anything - one minute they were here, the next they weren’t. What could he or anyone else do with that?. The public broke cops’ balls all the time, but if you don’t have evidence, you don’t have evidence. What do you want? Door to door searches? Roadblocks? Dogs and helicopters? Yeah, then when you actually do it, they cry fascism. Guess I’ll just use my Spidey Senses.
Bruce wished he had spidey senses. He wanted to find these kids as much as anyone, and he was starting to get pissed off that he couldn’t. He took another sip from his mug and read on. The latest kids to go missing were three boys between the ages of fourteen and eighteen.
They were all white, all thin (except for one). If there was a serial killer in town - and Bruce hoped to fuck there wasn’t - he had a type. What, black kids aren’t good enough to kill, cannibalize, and wear like a skin suit? They should charge him with a hate crime for discrimination.
That way he’d actually stay locked up.
The door opened and Vanessa Rodregiez, his deputy, came in. A tall, shapely Hispanic woman with dark eyes and a mouth poised always on the edge of a smile, she wore her black hair in a ponytail that would look stern and severe on anyone else, but on her, looked childlike. She was twenty-seven and had been on the force for three years, but you could be forgiven for thinking her much younger. “Bright and early, I see,” she said with a grin.
Bruce grumbled.
Vanessa held down the fort during the graveyard shift, acting to the night as he acted to the day. She was young and full of energy, which clashed with Bruce, who was old and just wanted to be left alone. Despite their differences, Bruce loved her like a kid sister…an annoying kid sister he wanted to throat punch sometimes.
“You missed all the fun last night,” she said and parked her butt on the edge of Bruce’s desk. He glared at her, but she ignored him.
“Good,” he said. Then: “What happened?”
“Big fight outside of Club Vlad,” she said. “It looked like a WorldStar video.”
For a moment, Bruce was lost. “Club what?”
“Club Vlad,” Vanessa said. “Where the Fuze Box used to be.”
Ah, right. The Fuze Box was an Albany landmark, a night club for punks…or goths…or someone. Certainly not for Bruce Kenner. It was small, dingy, and always had people in black waiting outside. On Friday and Saturday nights, it blasted strange music with lyrics about fighting The Man. Kids had been fighting the Man since before Bruce was even born and they hadn’t beaten him yet. Kudos to them for still trying.
Last year, The Fuze Box closed down and someone else bought it. It reopened last month and looked more or less the same: Posers, shitty music, and spiked hair. So much spiked hair. “Place is still a pain in the ass,” Bruce said.
“Yep,” Vanessa chirped. “It doesn’t know what it wants to be now. One minute they play nightcore, the next EDM. It’s all over the place.”
Bruce raised a quizzical brow.
“Not that I’ve ever been there in my free time,” Vanessa said in a tone that suggested she had,
Bruce gave a judgemental hum.
“Anyway,” Vanessa went on, “you see we have some new missing persons?”
Sighing, Bruce sat back in his chair. “Yeah. I did.”
“People are starting to ask questions,” Vanessa warned.
That brought a terse smile to Bruce’s weathered face. “Maybe they’ll solve it then.”
“Ha, fat chance,” Vanessa said. She got up and stretched. “Anyway, I’m bushed. Here’s my…” she trailed off and looked at her empty hands. “Damn, where’s my report? I just had it?” She turned in a confused circle as if she might be able to spot her report making a break for it. “Huh,” she said. She left the office and came back a moment later holding a folder. “Found it,” she grinned.
Bruce just looked at her.
“Um…here it is.”
He didn’t take it.
Her smile faltered. She carefully sat it on top of the files Bruce was looking at.
And his hands.
“I’ll just leave that right here.” She patted it for good measure.
“Thank you,” Bruce said.
“Okay. Night.”
“Goodnight,” Bruce said as she left through a shaft of morning sunlight. Alone, Bruce sat her report aside and went back to the missing kids. This case was giving him a headache and it wasn’t even nine. With a deep sigh, he slumped back in his chair and drummed his fingers on the armrests.
Was it Saturday yet?
He could really use a fishing trip.
***
Dom came awake in the cold purple twilight with a shocked gasp like a man coming up seconds before drowning. His eyes strained from his sweaty face and his mouth hung slack, twisted in a gruesome parody of The Scream. His mind was muddled, murky - he didn’t know where he was or even who he was, but he knew this,.
He couldn’t breathe.
He opened and closed his mouth like a fish, but his lungs did not fill with air. A great, unseen weight seemed to bear down on his chest, and panic gripped him. He tried to move, but his arms refused to heed his brain’s command. The weight seemed heavier, all over, crushing him like a bug. Confusion filled him and he started to pant.
Without warning, his bowels and bladder loosened, and horrible wetness filled his pants. He tried to sit up, but his body felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. His chest rose and fell with the frantic labor of his breath, but his lungs remained inert. A cry of fear bubbled up inside of him, but escaped his mouth only as a breathy groan.
A bust of adrenaline shot through him and he tried to stand, but succeeded only in falling off the couch instead, landing face first against the cold tile floor. He felt his nose crunch, but the pain was muted.
Dom thought he lost consciousness after that, but wasn’t sure. His next memory was of shivering so violently that his teeth clacked together. A phantom chill - perhaps from the floor - had settled into his bones, and was colder than he had ever been in his life, colder even than the time he fell into a snowbank and got lost when he was two. Shudders racked his body, and though he tried to turn over, he was too fucking heavy. It was like every muscle in his body had turned to dead weight. Fragmented thoughts swirled in his head, faint colors in the dark, but he couldn’t put any of them together.
With great effort, he managed to push himself slightly up, but a wave of lightheadedness crashed over him and he lowered his head once more. He stopped trying and simply lay there. Shortly, his eyes began to burn and he realized that he wasn’t blinking. Jesus Christ, he wasn’t blinking.
For some strange reason, that brought a fresh bout of panic. He started to hyperventilate, but his lungs still wouldn’t work. He wasn’t blinking…he wasn’t breathing…what was happening to him?
A whimper burst from his throat and he started to cry.
He must have cried himself to sleep, because he woke sometime later to the most intense headache he’d ever had. It felt like something was eating his brain from the inside out. He was sore all over, and could feel his muscles twitching, as though a thousand living things were burrowing through his body. A cramp shot down his right leg, and the toes of his left foot curled involuntarily. Slowly, his jaw clenched closed, and the muscles in his neck began to strain…then to burn. His panic turned to terror, and Dom wiggled across the floor like a worm, his limbs screaming in red agony and his brain filling with heat. He somehow wound up on his right side, and his arms curled slowly up to his chest, crossing at the wrists like a mummy. He tried to pull them apart, but the slightest movement sent waves of excruciating pain cutting through his body. His knees began to draw up to his stomach, and his fingers clenched tightly.
Cramps and spasms attacked every muscle in his body. He screamed through his teeth and shook, resembling a man in the electric chair as 40,000 volts of justice coursed through him. The pain grew gradually, getting worse and worse as minutes ticked by like hours. Higher, higher, higher - he clenched his eyes closed and shrieked as it became unbearable. Disjointed thoughts flashed through his mind - prayers, threats, curses, Jesus fucking…FUCK.
What was happening? God, what was happening to him? Was it fentanyl? He’d seen videos of people high on fentanyl, and they leaned in weird positions. He didn’t do drugs but maybe he ingested it somehow.
His panic may have returned if all of his muscles hadn’t picked that moment to contract as one. His eyes bulged from their sockets and his jaw unclenched just enough for him to utter a high. Agonized scream that echoed through his empty apartment like thunder.
A human being can only take so much before giving out. When the pain reached a crescendo, and Dom mercifully sank into consciousness once more. The sun rose and cascaded through the apartment’s sole window, falling over his huddled form. Slowly, it tracked across the sky before setting again. As the last rays disappeared behind the horizon, Dom’s eyes opened. The pain of the night before was blessedly gone, replaced by a feeling of numbness - the cool ash after the hot fire. His thoughts were slow and thick like molasses, but he could actually think again. Nightmare memories flooded back to him, but he wasn’t sure they were real. He was lying on his side, his arms wrapped around his chest as if for warmth, and his teeth lightly chattered against the icy chill. He was so cold that he didn’t want to move, but he couldn’t stay here forever. He needed help. He needed…
A shower.
Yeah, a hot shower. That would warm him up.
Gritting his teeth, he slowly sat up, ready for a burst of pain.
But none came.
He did, however, feel heavy. Getting to his feet, he stumbled and nearly fell, catching himself against the counter. His limbs had no feeling. It’s like they weren’t even there. Head hung, Dom tried to catch his breath, but it felt like he wasn’t breathing at all. His eyelids drooped closed and he felt like he was going to fall down. Summoning all the might he could, he shuffled into the bathroom with the stiff gait of an old man. He snapped the light on, and cold, white brilliance filled the space, blinding him.
Leaning heavily against the sink, he gripped the cold porcelain. Suddenly, he was afraid of looking into the mirror. He was sure that whatever reflection he saw, it would be of something else, something monstrous.
Dom lifted his head and faced the glass.
His heart shrank.
The man in the mirror was him but different. His skin was white as milk, lacking all color whatsoever save for the ugly purple patch on the left side. IResembling a giant bruise, it started at the temple and extended down to the slope of his neck, disappearing beneath his T-shirt. He gingerly lifted the shirt, and moaned when he saw that his entire left side was discolored, the purple edged with a puffy shade of pink. His sallow skin clung tight to his ribcage, and his hip bones stuck out so much it looked painful. Back in the mirror, his cheeks were sunken, hollow, and his eyes were a hazy, dishwater gray. His skull seemed bigger, his hair longer. Dom wanted to whip his head away from the phantom before him, to never see it again, but he was transfixed.
There was no way that thing was -
Dom looked away, cutting that thought off before it could finish.
A shower.
He needed a shower.
Slowly, stiffly, Dom undressed, peeling off his shirt and his soiled pants. He dropped them in a heap on the floor and stepped under the spray. He could feel the water pounding against him, but it provided no heat. It was neither hot nor cold. It was simply there.
Dom pressed his head to the slick shower wall and stood there for a long time. He was spent, tired, and fried - he had no more emotions left to give. He got out after a little while, dried off, and put on a clean pair of shorts. He settled into bed and lay there with his hands folded over his chest and his eyes open. They felt gritty, dry. His stomach felt bloated, gassy. He was drowsy now, the weight of the past two days (or was it two weeks?) coming down on him all at once. He closed his eyes and fell asleep.
He was still asleep - but aware - when the knocking on his door started the next morning. Time was funny in this state of being, fast and jerky but also slow and echoing. Keys rattled the knob turned. The landlord came in with a cop. They saw him on the bed, laid out like a corpse for a viewing, and the cop radioed in a code 35. Soon, cops were all around him, making noise and touching things. He had the vague sense of discomfort and embarrassment at the intrusion. A baling man in a suit stood over him, a cop who looked like a redneck beside him. “He didn’t die here,” the medical examiner said.
The cop looked at him questioningly. Dom caught the name KENNER on his name tag.
“See this?” the M.E. said and gestured to Dom’s face. “That’s livor mortis. When you die, your blood pools at the lowest point. If you’re on your left side, for example, it pools on the left.”
Kenner looked at Dom and then back to the M.E. “Someone moved him?”
“Looks like it,” the M.E. said.
“When did he die?”
The M.E. examined Dom as though he were nothing more than a side of beef. “At a glance? Three days. I won’t have a better answer until I open him up.”
Dom was still awake when they put him into a body bag and zipped it up. He felt a stirring of fear beneath the cold numbness, but he was too tired to worry about it now.
Later, he thought.
He would panic later.
For now, Dom slept.

Today I want to answer this common question: what do you do when you share mutual friends with your abusive ex? It's a situation many find themselves in because during the relationship, you naturally share friends due to shared interests or simply being together. But when the relationship ends, it leaves you wondering what to do with these mutual friends. It can be tough, especially when you're still hurting from the breakup and crave support from friends but now you don’t even know which friends to trust. So, how do you navigate this tricky situation?
Limit Communication
Limit the information you share with mutual friends before considering cutting ties with them. Even during no contact, these friends may still communicate with your ex. Avoid sharing every detail of your plans or recovery journey, as they might inadvertently reach your ex and sabotage your progress or draw you back into the relationship. Mutual friends create an indirect channel of communication, so you don’t have to tell them every single detail of your recovery journey.
Do not try to Win them Over.
Additionally, refrain from attempting to win them over to your side or convincing them to end ties with your abusive ex simply because you've broken up. Trying to recruit them may backfire, as they may isolate themselves from you or even view you as the problem. You may feel desperate because of loneliness, or you might approach the situation with good intentions like wanting your friends to see the truth about your ex. But it never really works that way since you’re the one who saw and experienced the abuse firsthand and your mutual friends may have been getting the ‘good’ side or the superficial charm side of your abusive ex.
Beware of Flying Monkeys
Another important point to consider is to know that your mutual acquaintances may potentially becoming proxies for abuse. They may start smearing your name or making you feel like the abusive one. They may do the abuser’s bidding unknowingly or knowingly and you will end up getting hurt in the name of wanting to be with your friends.
Therefore, sometimes it's necessary to cut off mutual friends too, as you can't always rely on them during your healing journey. Until you learn to be your own friend, you'll remain vulnerable to manipulation and exploitation, both from others and from yourself. Healing is your journey, and even if you have to do it without the support of your friends, know that you're doing it for the one friend who matters the most: yourself. It can be a lonely journey, but it's better to embrace the loneliness and the emptiness inside than to belong to a crowd where people exploit each other.
Note from the Author
If you’re ready and you’d like my help with healing, finding peace in life and breaking free from these toxic patterns, then you can book a FREE BREAKTHROUGH CALL with me HERE. Happy healing 💙💙. Feel free to share and comment! Use this information with caution, it comes from my own thoughts & bias, experiences and research😊.

Preface: Payment via PayPal goods and services. Shipping via USPS priority mail. U.S. only. No trades (unless you want to trade me a Michael Walker or a Ron Lake, lol). Neither f the knives have boxes or papers, but each will come in a nylon pouch. Thank you!
Timestamp: https://i.imgur.com/p71yVL9.jpeg
Spyderco Calypso: VG10. Smooth, no detent but stays securely shut, solid lockup, very sharp, centering a little off to the left. Some extremely light scratches here or there but very little in terms of signs of use. These are very rare! $200.
Photo album: https://imgur.com/a/pwSrPQJ#T7DftOw.
Beauty shot: https://www.instagram.com/p/C351gnbv42?hl=en
Benchmade Taggedout: CPM 154. Smooth, again no detent but stays securely shut, solid lockup, very sharp, blade well centered. AWT scales, anodized I believe. A tiny blemish in the stonewashed blade on the show side (see photos), it’s just cosmetic. Some wear on the clip. Other than that in great condition. A laser. Does not have original scales. $150.
Photo album: https://imgur.com/a/qmhc0aa#TluKgsT.
Beauty shot: https://www.instagram.com/p/C351gnbv42?hl=en

Hei, hi and hello!
I’m Onsie Onsfjord or Fjord feel free to call me whichever is not mind to me.
I’m a 26-year-old English Norwegian who’s mainly lived his whole life in the United Kingdom and graduated from university with a degree in Computer Networks and is now working as a DIE for the NHS (Digital Infrastructure Engineer).
Caught you off guard with that job title acronym huh? Yeah, trust me when I first started it had me in fits of laughter, but you get used to it after a while.
So a bit about me;

• I’m an introvert and tend to avoid public crowds, events and such and just try to vibe with friends on a nice game of anything (which you’ll see below)
• I’m an avid IT nerd and will most likely remain this way for my whole career as IT is my education and career at this point
• On top of IT you guessed it I’m also a very big avid “gamer” I mainly play PC and PS5 games with my current interests being in Helldivers 2, Star Wars: The Fallen Order, and Jedi: Survivor amongst a few other things like WoW, CoD, SWTOR and so on.
• I love learning, whether it be history, game lore, languages, cultures, etc. You name it, and I’ll probably be interested in it (Trust me, you give me a flag of any country, and I’ll be able to tell you the country’s name and political structure.
• I’m also an avid book reader and you’ll most likely see my shelf full of different manga from all types of genres, I don’t particularly watch anime, I mainly read instead because I find it more “interesting” for better or not. (Not that I'm opposed to watching it) - I’m trying to learn to cook myself but not very good at it as my most recent attempt I ended up giving myself food poisoning so it’s sufficient to say you will have a big gamble if you’d like me to cook ha-ha.
• I do watch football from time to time and do support a few clubs from around the world (mainly northern Europe, the UK, and the US) feel free to guess if you’d like!
• I’m currently on a VLCD and have lost about 2 stone within 1 month which I’m super super happy about.

In terms of looks and such I’m what an average 26-year-old would look like who is 6’1/6’2 with a picture on request.
Please don’t judge too much as I’m still working on improving myself.
What am I about? I’ve always made it a goal to help, care for, and support those close to me, whether it be friends, old friends, or the equivalent of my family. They’ve been there for me, and I’ll go hell and back for them as they’ve stood by me through thick and thin, even through the loss of other close friends; they’ve picked me up and brushed me down and set me straight to which I will always forever be in their debt and have helped them being.
Whilst I’ve been shot and backstabbed by many of those who I thought were close to me I just try and see the positive and avoid the unnecessary drama and arguments as life is just way too generally short for that kind of stuff and we should all get along with each other in my mind.
What am I looking for? I apologize if this comes off as really picky

• Someone in the realm of the US, Canada or Europe
• Someone between the age of 20 to 28 years old
• Someone who has an interest in IT, manga, gaming, and such (It’s easier to talk to people with the same interest I’ve found though you don’t need to work in IT at all)
• Just be a kind honest individual who I can back and vice versa. Be there for each other.

I am looking for a monogamous and serious relationship and not a friendship, however, I’m fine with starting out as friends whilst getting to know each other etc.
The end? Well, I’d like to say that this was the short and sweet version of myself without giving much more away about me but hey hopefully you’ve stayed this far and if you have, I have a very small simple request for you!
If you do decide I’m someone you’d like to get to know and all of that stuff then when messaging me, please make a somewhat attempt of an introduction (I’m not asking for the mass of paragraphs or anything) just a hi, your name (doesn’t have to be your real name), where you’re from, how old are you, what you do, hobbies, etc and we’ll go from there!
Low-effort chats & messages will be removed also, so I know that you’ve made it this far please put your answers to this question (wrong answers don’t matter, it’s what is attempted counts)
“I was born in the winter on a remembrance day, which day was this?”
Take care and hope to see your message 😊

What am I doing? Dominick Mason asked himself for the hundredth time that night. It was late on a rainy Sunday evening and Dom, a tall, lanky man-boy of twenty-five with a prominent Adam’s apple and too big eyes, stared out the rain-slicked window of the 905. The big bus swayed and jostled as it lumbered down Central Avenue, the movements strangely comforting, conducive to reflection…and self-doubt.
As if on cue, his phone buzzed, and a pit opened up in his stomach. He fumbled it out with long fingers and read the text. Are u almost here
His thumb hovered over the screen, but he did not reply. Part of him wanted to block the number, slink back home with his tail between his legs, and forget the whole thing. He could boot up his PS4 and play Red Dead Redemption or GTA V like always. Safe. Familiar. The thought, however, stirred a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach.
It was dread.
Every night, he did the same thing. He came home from work to his tiny prison cell apartment. He had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. He played video games until it was time to go to bed. The worst part of the whole night was when he turned off the TV and saw his murky reflection in the screen. Plaid. Scrawny. Disgusting. He hated being locked in that apartment, with its old smells and white walls, but he hated going out even more. At least in his hole, he was safe, like a mouse. No one hurt or lied to him there. No one gave him funny looks. No one rejected him. He was completely safe in his solitude, a wounded animal hiding in its den and licking its wounds.
He was wounded and he knew it.
And he hated himself for it. Hated that he wasn’t stronger or better. Hated that even though he tried so hard, everything he did fell apart…if it even came together in the first place, which it rarely did.
The phone buzzed again.
Just a question mark this time.
His heart began to race and a steely fist slowly closed around his lungs. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and took a deep breath. He pictured himself alone in his little apartment. He loved the image, but he hated it too. Most nights, he didn’t mind being alone. He had to not mind it, because he didn’t have a choice. Some nights…some nights he didn’t want to be alone. Some nights he wanted warmth, he wanted tenderness…some nights, he wanted to be human.
Every so often, Dom would get the urge to find those things. They came less frequently than they did before, but unfortunately, they still came. He would create an account on Plenty of Fish and OKCupid, maybe some of the other sites as well. He would agonize over his stupid intro and his stupid list of hobbies. He would spend hours - literally hours - writing and rewriting them, trying at first to be serious, then light and funny, then cool, then aloof, then vulnerable. He would take the best possible pictures from the best possible angles, then upload them, never lingering over them because he hated the way he looked. He didn’t think he was ugly - mid was more like it - but apparently, he was ugly. Too ugly for love, too ugly even to talk to.
The ugly barnacle. So ugly that everyone died. The end.
All of Dom’s pictures were all selfies, of course. Guys he listened to on YouTube said he needed action shots, shots with friends, shots that showed women he had a life, was valued by those around him, and knew how to have fun. Too bad for him, he had no friends and no one valued him, not even his own mother. On the surface, maybe, but she had hurt him so many times over the years in so many ways that even the most devout son would stop and think.
It had to be selfies.
When his profile was in order - or as much in order as he could get it - he would start to browse. Dom knew his place and never messaged women who were too beautiful. He used to, but they never responded. He eventually began to skip their profiles with a pang of loss and a quiet what if? Now, he barely noticed them. Blonde. Petite. Blue eyes. Maybe she was a cheerleader at one time, maybe she was the type of girl who looked down her nose at guys like him. Maybe she was a sweetheart. In any case, he would never find out, so who cares?
He went for women he could realistically obtain…the type of women he’d dated and hooked up with in the past. Some were attractive in their own way, others were hard to look at, he wasn’t picky; he couldn’t afford to be picky. One woman he saw was a good three hundred pounds. She was nice and he liked her enough, but he lapsed into depression while they were dating and he never messaged her back…not that she made a huge effort to message him. Another was a pre-K teacher in her mid-thirties. Overweight with a big nose, glasses, and a plain face when she wasn’t wearing make-up. He liked her a lot and wanted to be with her, but after a month of weekend hookups, she said she didn’t love him. She told him she wanted a family - three kids, to be exact - but “changed her mind.” No, she didn’t. She just didn’t want those things with him.
Now she was in her late thirties, single, and having regrets.
She still wouldn’t settle for him, though.
Another woman he’d seen recently (six months ago) was fifty, but not unattractive. They texted for weeks, hot and heavy. She outright told him that she wanted to have sex with him. Said all sorts of nasty and sexual things. Their first (and only date) was her coming to his apartment. Instead of tender kisses, loving caresses, and intense emotions, they shared an awkward two hours on his couch. When he tried to hold her hand and put his arm around her, she stiffened. Not much, just a little. She said she “wasn’t ready.” He sat there and watched the flowers he’d gotten her wilt as she talked about her ex for an hour and a half, his arms pointedly crossed. He even leaned as far away from her as humanly possible, trying to communicate with his body language what he didn’t have the guts to communicate with his words: I’m uncomfortable, please leave. He planned to take her to a nice restaurant after they made love. Instead, he ordered something after she finally got the hint and left, eating alone like always.
After her, he deleted his profile (again) and resolved to never bother with dating again. Obviously there was something wrong with him. He saw guys who were uglier and more awkward than him with girlfriends, some actually stunning, but there was something about him in particular, something that repelled women…and men too.
Everyone.
It repelled everyone.
Maybe it was his self-loathing. After all, no one likes a sad sack. But that’s the thing: He was like this because of those experiences. It was a what came first, the chicken or the egg situation. Looking back, he had almost normal confidence at one point. Then all of this happened. The hundreds of messages he sent on the dating apps staying on read, unanswered, like he never sent them at all, like he was garbage unworthy of even a hello. The awkward dates. The occasional “success” that eventually fell apart…sometimes because of him, and sometimes because of them. The one girl who ran away from him when he tried to walk her to her car after a date. They didn’t click, he knew that, but he didn’t say or do anything creepy. Why did she do that? The girls who lead him on, talking about sex and sometimes even love but always had a reason they couldn’t meet.
There were other examples - many others - but it was all the same. Who cared?
Dom wanted to crawl back into his hole and stay there, to stop poking his head out and getting hurt. He wanted it so bad…but he was only human. Deep down, buried beneath layer after layer of scar tissue, there was still hope. Hope for love, for companionship, for acceptance, for intimacy and human touch. It was only an ember now, but even an ember is enough to spark a fire.
Some nights, he wanted to be safe. Other nights, he wanted to take a risk.
And this night was one of the latter.
Be there soon, he texted. He swallowed hard and wetted his lips. His heart was pounding faster and his bowels were loose. He really hoped this worked out. He didn’t think he could handle another rejection. If she turned him down, he’d probably go home and kill himself. Why go on like this?
He’d had that thought before…but he never followed through.
Maybe one day he’d actually shut the fuck up and do it already.
Maybe.
Ok :)
Her name was Heather and she was fat. She was not unattractive in the face and she wore her weight well, not that that mattered - he would take what he could get. They started talking on OKCupid last week and very soon, the conversation became sexual. He didn’t start it, though, she did. She was ahem very excited, she said. He liked to think that she was lonely, desperate, and wanted intimacy - any intimacy - just like him.
That really turned him on.
They agreed to meet, and now here he was, on the bus to her apartment on the other side of the city, hoping against hope that she didn’t hurt him too.
He put the phone away and stared straight ahead. The bus was nearly deserted, save for an old bag lady up front and a few Mexican guys in the back. Lights lined the bus’s roof, providing a cold, impersonal light. Dom took a deep breath and forced his dark emotions away. It was all on him to make this work. He would accept her fat, ugly, poor, and crippled, but he had to work to earn her love. He could do it.
When the bus finally reached his stop, he yanked the cord and got off. There was a plexiglass shelter lit by a single, lonely bulb. Trash littered the ground. Beyond the shelter, a park lay in darkness. Behind him, on the other side of the road, a housing project not unlike his own towered into the sky, lit up like a ship at sail. Dom swallowed his nerves and crossed the street. He found the door that she had directed him to use, and climbed the stairs. He expected trash, graffiti, and winos passed out on every landing. Instead, the stairwell was clean and deserted. His nerves welled as he climbed but he forced them down again. On the ninth floor, he went down the hall, battered on all sides by the stale smells of cooking and the murmur of TVs and voices coming from every apartment.
Dom paused at Apartment 237.
Heather’s.
You got this, he told himself.
And really, he did. Their plan - well, Heather’s, really - was simple and straightforward. She told him that she would leave the door unlocked. He was to come in, go to the bedroom, and she would be waiting for him. She said it was a fantasy of hers.
On some level, he knew all along that the whole setup sounded fishy. Was he being set up to get robbed? Would he walk in and get jumped by a bunch of Crips? He hesitated, but his need for love - and, yes, release - pushed him on.
He opened the door.
Inside, the apartment was small and messy, a living room to the right and a tiny kitchen to the left. The only light on was the one above the stove.
Everything else was in shadows.
Dom’s heart skipped a beat.
This didn’t feel right.
That thought was overpowered by the smell, a sickly sweet odor that suddenly seemed to be everywhere. His stomach twisted and he turned his head slightly to one side, as if to spare his nose. It smelled like something spoiled.
A voice spoke from the darkness, startling him. “I’m in here.”
It was light, airy, and cute.
For the last time, Dom hesitated. Some primal sense told him to turn around and leave…
…but he wanted to be loved.
Dom entered and shut the door behind him.
The smell was stronger. The atmosphere darker.
Ahead, he could barely make out an open doorway in the shadows.
He crossed to it.
The smell was overpowering here and Dom felt like he was going to puke. Any desire he had felt was gone, replaced only by revulsion and claustrophobia. It was cold, he realized, so cold that his teeth chattered.
Okay, fuck this.
He started to turn around, intent on leaving, but a small, white hand reached from the darkness. Icy fingertips brushed his cheek and his heart blasted into his throat.
Then she was there, her body pressing against his and her lips fused with his. The smell, the freezer chill, both stronger than ever.
They were both coming from her.
Her tongue hungrily lashed his own, and she pushed him against the wall. Her hands slipped under his shirt and pressed flat against his chest. They were so cold that he almost cried out.
Dom wanted to push her away, to run, but he didn’t. Instead, he froze up and allowed her to push him onto the bed. Was he too gutless to tell her no, the way he’d been too gutless to tell the woman who went on and on about her ex to shut up and leave? Did he secretly want to go through with this? He didn’t know, and he didn’t have time to figure it out. She was on top of him now, straddling him, his legs caged between her ample thighs. She grabbed his hands and pressed them to her bare breasts.
They were as cold as the rest of her.
She leaned down and kissed him again. He hadn’t noticed it before, but her tongue was…dry. Her mouth itself tasted strange. Off.
Heather broke from his lips and peppered kisses on his cheek and forehead, assaulting him with an intimacy that Dom no longer wanted.
Through it all, she was as silent as a tomb. She wasn’t panting or rasping with excitement. In fact, he didn’t think she was even breathing.
She brushed her lips along the exposed curve of his throat, and tingles of revulsion shot down his spine. She found his pulse and kissed it. Trembles of excitement raced through her body and she started to lap his neck like a dog.
Without warning, a fiery pinprick of pain exploded over him and Heather began to shake and pant. Dom cried out and tried to fight her off, but she was too heavy, too much.
With a tiny, mouse-like squeak - a sound of pitiable fear and resignation - Dom blacked out.

My(f35) ex (m37) has two daughters ( lets call them Lily and Mia) with two different women (Cara- Liliy's mom and Maya- Mia's mom). Liliy turned 18 this weekend and Mia is 16.
My ex and I are still friends, we split after 6 years, there was no drama, no fighting no abuse, we had another one of "what is next for us" talks, and he added he thought that my "I don't want kids" stance was just a phase I would have got out "by certain age". He wants more kids. I don't want kids. I have/had a good relationship with both of his daughters. Maya and I had a friendly relationship while I was with him. She asked for my number and asked to meet me before she was okay with me meeting her daughter - Mia. I had no issues with this; in fact, I instantly respected her for it. Cara, on the other hand, was always hostile.
I'm financially well off. Earning significantly more than him, we had a joint account that was mostly funded by me (98% of the funds in it came from me). I was okay with him spending that money on his family and daughters. The only rule I had was that I didn't want it to be used for lavish gifts to his ex. He was okay with this. But during one of the family gatherings, Cara asked if she could borrow some cash from him; he said yes and to take what he had in his wallet. She took a card to our joint account and went on a spending spree. I was pissed. But I was furious when he didn't make her pay it back. She is the mother of his child, and what do I expect him to do, blah blah.
Last summer, while we were still together, I promised Lilily we/ I would take her to Taylor Swit's concert in Paris and a proper shopping trip for her 18th, we extended invitation to Mia as well and her mom agreed. So I bought 4 concert tickets ( for the girls, ex and me) and booked a hotel. Fast forward to winter and we had our split.
Last month, I asked him what he wanted to do. I couldn't transfer my ticket to his new girl (or anyone), but I was willing to give it up and told him to go with the girls. I would even pay for plane tickets. He admitted he had forgotten all about it and that he had already booked all his allowance of annual leave, so he couln't take them. He asked if I would find it awkward to go on the trip with girls instead. As mentioned, I have a good relationship with his girls and have said okay if their moms agree. Mia's mom - Maya, said no problem, but Liliy's mom- Cara, insisted that the only way "I was taking her daughter out of the country was if she was going." I offered not to go and have Cara take them. She wouldn't be able to get into a concert venue, but the hotel was paid for, and I would still pay for plane tickets. But Maya said she wasn't letting Mia anywhere with Cara. Here, in order to make a minor over the border, you need a form signed by both parents. Not wanting to punish girls for something that was out of their control, we agreed I would take the girls and Cara would join us. As I also promised a shopping trip to Liliy, her dad set up a spending limit, and I asked Maya to allow me to buy something for Mia as well so she wouldn't feel excluded; reluctantly, she agreed and also set a limit.
Of to Paris we went, we arrived the day before the concert and were due to go back in the evening on the day after the concert. From the moment we landed Cara complained about everything. When we got to the hotel she demanded separate rooms ( I have originally booked a two-bedroom suite), and thought Mia and I could take one room and Liliy and her another ( she knew this before we left). She proceeded to yell and make a scene until the receptionist said they had another smaller suite available. I ended up taking that one for myself and Mia.
Next day after breakfast we went shopping. Lily said she would prefer one or two higher-quality pieces of clothing rather than brands she could get at home. So we went to Galeries Lafayette. About two hours in I got a call from a client that there was an issue that needed immediate attention. I gave Lily my card, reminded her of the limit her father set, and told Mia that we could go somewhere else afterward if she didn't find anything she liked that would honor the limit her mom set. Both girls said they understood; Cara gave me a side-eye. So I sat at a nearby bench dealing with my client's issue while they shopped. Not sure how much time has passed when Lily came crying, saying her mom made her give her my card and was buying things for herself. I went to a till, and indeed, Cara was paying with my card for things that were clearly for her. She didn't even have the decency to look guilty when she saw me marching towards her; she even smirked. So, in a fit of rage, I said to a cashier that she was paying with a stolen card, my card. Cara tried to insist I gave her the card, but I stood my ground, security was called, I continued to insist she stole it. Eventually, they called the police. Since it was my name on the card and the cashier confirmed Cara was one that used the card, and I continued to insist she stole it they arrested her. We had to go with them to give a statement. Few hours later when we left the station, I sat down the girls and explained we would go back in the morning to get Cara, but that right now she needed to learn there were consequences.
Neither of the girls was in the mood to go back to shopping, so we went to the hotel and got ready for the concert. By the time we reached the concert venue, both girls were in good moods again. In case you are wondering, we had a blast.
The next morning, I returned to the police station and retracted my statement, saying it was a misunderstanding. I gave the card to one of the girls, and she gave it to her mom. Two fines ( both myself and Cara got fined) and a few snide remarks from the officer later Cara was free. She refused to speak with me for the rest of the trip. Fine by me. I don't even mind the fine I got, it was worth it.
Girls and I went for one more round of shopping before it was time to catch the plane.
When we got back, chaos erupted. His family is now divided, some saying I was petty and b**ch for what I did, and other side clapping, saying it was well deserved.
My ex stopped by my work this morning and said that what I did to Cara was bullying. And I was an a**hole for dangling my money in front of her, that I should have left it be, and he would have paid me back if I told him.
I don't think I was. Was I petty, maybe, probably, but I don't think I was A**hole, she literally tried to steal.