We were in some facility like a hospital but not sure why we were there I went around exploring and discovered that the staff was giving patients these vials that can stop pain but they also poison you similar to how they cure cancer, it uses radiation as a power source. at some point someone steps on stairs and it explodes for some reason giving them intense pain in that leg. there were strange creatures like a monkey with arms and leg skin attached like they were a bat. and finally I saw kokkoro in a hospital bed. eventually wondering around long enough I find her again in a room she has one of those sets of vials attached to her with a device because she stepped on stairs like I mentioned earlier. I told her the vials poison her and that we need to get the fuck out of here took the device off of her and we made our escape.
weirdest dream I've had so far with her in it.

My puppy didn't die; he just walks funny now and only nips me when he's playing!

As far back as I can remember, I had always been passionate about the great outdoors. My love for the wilderness began when I joined the scouts, exploring the diverse landscapes of Southern California, Nevada, Arizona, and Utah. I was never a huge fan of the dry, barren landscapes, but camping provided a much-needed escape from the monotony of Orange County suburbia.
The first time I visited the Pacific Northwest, I was enchanted. The scenery was breathtaking—majestic mountains, lush fields, and meandering rivers. It was clear that anyone who praised the desert's beauty had never laid eyes on the Cascades. Seeing grass and wildflowers growing without irrigation was practically a revelation.
When I was old enough, I moved to Washington state, immersing myself in nature every weekend. My adventures took me hiking through dense forests, camping by serene lakes, and occasionally taking mushrooms under peaceful waterfalls.
I joined several online forums dedicated to outdoor enthusiasts. One community that particularly fascinated me was the Northwest Tomb Raiders. This group of history buffs and thrill-seekers was dedicated to uncovering artifacts, whether Native American relics or treasures hidden in modern ruins. Many members were collectors, fencing their finds to museums and archaeologists, which made it a rather profitable side gig, should you be lucky enough.
In the fall of 2009, an intriguing post appeared on the forum. A user named Lokk claimed to have discovered a cache of artifacts with Scandinavian origins. He couldn't carry everything back due to the treacherous terrain and his age, so he shared the coordinates, hoping someone else could retrieve the items. I scrolled down to see a few posts of people planning to loot it in the Spring, when the paths have reopened. One user, Patagooner, planned on going as early as possible.
Excited by the prospect, I gathered my two friends, Carl and Noah, for the expedition. They weren't as enthusiastic about camping as I was, but after I told them how much a single arrowhead goes for on the black market, they were on board. It was the start of winter now, which had its advantages and disadvantages. On the plus side, the rangers would have a harder time spotting us. On the downside, the harsh conditions posed a serious challenge for two inexperienced hikers.
I must’ve blown about four grand at REI on gear for them, justifying it with the knowledge of how much more I would make with two extra packs. That is of course assuming there really were as many artifacts as Lokk had said, and Patagooner hadn’t beaten me there.
The journey began like any other. We met in the pre-dawn darkness and went over our supplies, ensuring we had everything we needed. By mid-morning, we were on our way, my pickup truck winding up the mountain paths. The roads of Olympic National Park were the epitome of the raw, untamed beauty of the Pacific Northwest.
They snake through ancient forests, where towering Douglas firs and Western hemlocks create a verdant canopy overhead. Mist clings to the trees, giving the landscape an ethereal quality. Occasionally, the forest would open up to reveal breathtaking vistas of snow-capped peaks and deep, shadowy valleys.
As we climbed higher, the landscape grew increasingly desolate. The dense forest thinned out, replaced by rugged terrain and jagged rock formations. The air grew colder, and the first flurries of snow began to fall, dusting the ground in a thin, white layer. The road became narrower and more treacherous, winding precariously along the edge of steep cliffs.
Finally, a road closure blockade signaled the end of our journey in the truck. We unloaded three dirt bikes—one mine, two rentals—and continued up the trail. The bikes roared to life, carrying us several more miles into the wilderness. The trail twisted and turned, cutting through dense underbrush and over fallen logs. The snow began to fall more heavily, blanketing the forest floor and muffling the sound of our engines. The world around us grew quieter, more isolated.
Eventually, the snow became too deep to traverse by bike. We dismounted and prepared to continue on foot. The silence of the forest was profound, broken only by the occasional rustle of branches in the wind. I checked my modern GPS, its screen displaying the coordinates and a relief map of our destination.
The cold air bit into our cheeks as we trudged through the snow-laden forest. The silence was almost oppressive, broken only by the crunch of our footsteps and the occasional call of distant wildlife. The GPS indicated we were close to our destination, but the dense underbrush and uneven terrain made progress slow.
Suddenly, Carl's excited whisper cut through the stillness. "Hey, look at that!"
He pointed to a small, furry creature ambling through the trees. It took a moment to realize what it was—a bear cub, innocently exploring its surroundings.
My heart sank. "Carl, get back," I hissed, my voice low but urgent. "Where there's a cub, there's a..."
Before I could finish, a massive shape exploded from the trees. The mother bear, easily three times the size of the cub, charged at Carl with a ferocity. She was a blur of dark fur and powerful muscles, her roar echoing through the forest.
"Run!" I yelled, but it was too late. The bear was upon Carl, swiping at him with her massive paws. He screamed as he fell to the ground, the bear towering over him. Desperation and adrenaline surged through me. I grabbed the nearest heavy branch and swung it at the bear, hoping to distract her.
Noah joined in, shouting and waving his arms. We had to be careful; one wrong move and she would turn on us. The bear snarled, turning her attention away from Carl for just a moment. It was enough for him to scramble backwards, clutching his bleeding arm.
"We have to get him out of here," I shouted to Noah, who nodded, fear etched on his face. The bear, still enraged, seemed torn between attacking us and protecting her cub.
Using the brief respite, we hauled Carl to his feet. His face was white, and he was clearly in shock. Blood soaked his sleeve, dripping onto the snow. "There's a ranger station about two miles from here," I said, my voice shaking. "We need to get him there. Now."
We half-carried, half-dragged Carl through the forest, every shadow and sound heightening our paranoia.
Finally, after what felt like forever, the small, wooden structure of the ranger station came into view. We had been avoiding the rangers to keep our expedition secret, but now it was our only hope.
Pounding on the door, I prayed for a quick response. The door creaked open, and a weathered face appeared. "What happened?" the ranger demanded, taking in the sight of Carl's bloodied form.
"Bear attack," I gasped. "We need help."
The ranger's expression shifted from suspicion to urgency. "Get him inside. We've got a first aid kit and a radio."
As we eased Carl onto a makeshift bed, the ranger inspected his wounds. "You're lucky," he said after a moment. "The cuts are deep, but they missed any major arteries. He'll need stitches, but we can handle that here. No need for an airlift."
The ranger's face darkened as he turned to me. "What the hell are you boys doing out here?”
I hesitated, "We... we were just exploring."
The ranger's eyes narrowed, his anger palpable. "Exploring? In a restricted area? In the middle of winter? Are you out of your minds?"
He worked quickly and efficiently, cleaning and stitching Carl's wounds. Carl winced but stayed silent, his eyes closed in pain.
"Do you have any idea how dangerous it is out here?" the ranger continued, his voice rising. "The storm, the wildlife... This area is off-limits for a reason! You should have known better." he said, pushing a finger into my chest.
"We'll stay here for the night," he continued, "The storm's getting worse, and it's too dangerous to move him now. We'll reassess in the morning. And count yourself lucky I don't arrest your asses."
Night fell quickly, the storm outside growing more ferocious with each passing minute. The howling wind battered the small ranger station, and the walls creaked under the pressure. We huddled in the main room, the tension thick in the air.
The ranger looked at us sternly. "I need to check the perimeter and make sure everything is secure. There are things out there you don’t want to encounter, especially in this storm."
"Things? What do you mean?" Noah asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
The ranger's expression hardened. "Just stay put. No matter what you see or hear, do not leave this cabin. Understood?"
We nodded, the seriousness in his tone leaving no room for argument. "We'll stay put," I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt.
The ranger grabbed his coat and shotgun. "I'll be back in an hour. Do not leave this cabin." With that, he opened the door and stepped into the raging storm, disappearing into the darkness.
As soon as the door closed, I turned to Noah. "We need to go. Now."
Noah's eyes widened. "Are you crazy? He said to stay put."
"If we wait until morning, we'll be escorted out of here and lose our chance. This might be our only opportunity to find those artifacts."
Noah hesitated with uncertainty "But... what about Carl?"
"He'll be fine here. The ranger can take care of him. We have to do this now."
Reluctantly, Noah nodded. "Alright. Let's take what we can and go."
We quickly looted extra gear from the cabin. I checked the GPS one last time before we slipped out into the storm, the cold wind battering us.
The snow fell heavily, obscuring our vision as we slogged through the forest. The ranger was nowhere in sight as we made our way towards the our destination, each step filled with trepidatious excitement.
The storm began to die down as we approached the coordinates. We stepped into a clearing where the undisturbed snow lay like a pristine white blanket. In the center stood an ancient, weathered stone altar, encircled by intricate wooden carvings, delicate metalwork, and beautifully crafted statues. The sight was breathtaking, a treasure trove, a veritable museum of paganism.
Noah and I exchanged glances, our eyes wide with amazement. "Do you see this?" I whispered, barely able to contain my excitement.
"We're going to be rich," Noah replied, his voice trembling with awe. "These must be worth a fortune!"
We approached cautiously, as if the vision before us might disappear. The craftsmanship was stunning. I reached out to touch a carved wooden idol, marveling at the detail. "This is incredible," I said, my voice barely audible.
We began to load our packs with as many artifacts as we could carry, each one more exquisite than the last. It was beyond our wildest dreams. We were so engrossed in our task that we didn't notice the small figure watching us from the ridge.
It wasn't until I turned to leave that I saw her. A young girl, maybe eight years old, stood there, her blue eyes wide with curiosity. She was dressed in simple, rustic clothing, her blonde straight hair blowing gently in the wind. For a moment, we just stared at each other.
"Noah," I whispered urgently, nudging him. "Look."
He turned, his eyes following my gaze. "What the...?" he muttered, his voice trailing off.
The girl took a tentative step forward, her eyes fixed on the items in our hands. There was no fear in her gaze, only a quiet intensity that made my skin crawl.
"Who are you?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
She tilted her head slightly. "My name is Sigyn."
"What are you doing out here, Sigyn?" Noah asked, his voice shaky.
"I live here,"
"You live here?" I echoed, incredulous. "Is there anyone else around?"
"Yes," she whispered.
"Where?" Noah demanded, looking around nervously.
"Everywhere," she said with a giggle.
The way she said it, so matter-of-factly, bothered me deeply. Noah and I exchanged a look, both of us trying to figure out what to do next.
"We can't take her back to the ranger," Noah started, "We'll lose everything."
I nodded, my mind racing. "Sigyn," I said slowly, "we need to know who else is here. Can you help us?"
She looked at me with her piercing blue eyes, then said, "I'm sorry."
"For what?" Noah asked.
"For what's going to happen to you," she replied, her voice tinged with sadness.
"You need to tell us what's going on," Noah said, grabbing her arm roughly. "Why are you out here alone?"
She looked up at him, unperturbed. "I am not alone," she said softly.
Before we could press her further, a loud, guttural mooing sound echoed through the clearing. We turned towards the direction the girl had come from, and there, emerging from the shadows, was the silhouette of an elk. As it approached, my stomach dropped. Its body was a grotesque amalgamation of life and decay. Its skull was fully exposed, the eye sockets dark and empty. Large patches of its ribs were visible, the flesh around them rotted away.
The elk's movements were slow and deliberate, its head swaying as if in a trance. It walked directly towards us, its hollow eyes fixed on Sigyn. The closer it got, the more the stench of death filled the air—a nauseating mix of decay and earth. I fought the urge to retch.
Sigyn stood up, her expression calm. The monster sniffed her gently, its nostrils flaring. Without a word, she climbed onto its back, mounting it like a horse. It was a surreal and horrifying scene ripped straight from a nightmare.
As she settled onto the elk, she looked back at us, "A thief in the night shall reap what he sows," she said, her voice carrying an otherworldly echo. "Beware the price of stolen dreams."
With that, the beast turned and began to walk away, Sigyn riding it into the shadows of the forest. We stood there, frozen in place. The realization that we were in far over our heads began to sink in. This started to feel like a trap.
We need to get out of here," My voice trembling. "Now."
We turned to leave, our packs heavy with the pilfered goods. But as we took our first steps, the forest around us seemed to come alive. Shadows moved among the trees, and whispers floated on the wind. I quickened my pace, glancing nervously over my shoulder.
"Did you hear that?" Noah asked sharply,
"Just keep moving," I commanded.
A figure emerged from the shadows, blocking our path. It was a man, tall and gaunt, his eyes burning with an intense light. "Where do you think you're going?" he asked, his voice cold and menacing.
"We're leaving," I stammered. "We didn't mean any harm."
The man smirked, and with a swift motion, he raised his hand. More figures appeared, closing in on us from all sides. We were surrounded.
"Run!" I shouted, shoving Noah forward.
We sprinted through the forest, branches whipping at our faces and legs. The figures pursued us, their footsteps silent and relentless.
Noah stumbled and fell, his pack spilling open. Statues scattered across the ground, glinting in the moonlight. "Help!" he cried, scrambling to gather the items.
"Leave them!" I shouted, pulling him to his feet. "We have to keep moving!"
But it was too late, their hands seizing us. I struggled, kicking and thrashing, but their grips were too strong. They forced us to the ground, binding our hands with rough, coarse ropes.
"Please," I begged, "Don't hurt us."
The man who had first appeared stepped forward, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "A thief in the night," he mocked.
They dragged us through the forest, the trees closing in around us like a cage. We were at their mercy.
In the distance, I could see the elk standing at the edge of the clearing, Sigyn still astride its back. Her eyes met mine, and for a moment, I thought I saw a flicker of pity. But then they turned away, disappearing into the shadows once more.
We were dragged into the heart of the forest, our struggles futile against the unyielding grip of our captors. As we broke through the treeline, a massive bonfire came into view, its flames licking the night sky. Shadows danced around the clearing, cast by the flickering light. A woman stood at the forefront, her presence commanding.
Her eyes were milk white, devoid of pupils, and her long, flowing white hair cascaded down her back. She was completely naked, her skin pale and marked with intricate symbols. Atop her head, she wore an elk skull, its antlers extending like eerie, skeletal fingers. She beat a drum emblazoned with more of the same cryptic symbols, each thud resonating deep within my chest.
Around the fire, about two dozen people stood, all drinking from crude, horned cups. Their faces were solemn, eyes fixed on the woman as she led them in a haunting chant. The atmosphere was thick with a mix of reverence and intoxication.
We were forced to our knees before the woman, who paused her drumming to look down at us. Her gaze was haunting, as if she could see into the very depths of our souls.
"Who are you?" Noah demanded, his voice trembling.
The woman ignored him, raising her arms to the sky. The chanting grew louder, the rhythm of the drum faster and more frenzied. The air around us seemed to vibrate with energy, the flames of the bonfire growing higher and more intense.
I glanced at Noah, fear mirrored in his eyes. The woman began to speak, her voice low and melodic, but filled with power, in a language I couldn't understand. Suddenly, she stopped, lowering her arms. The chanting ceased, and an silence fell over the clearing. She looked directly at me, her white eyes unblinking.
En tjuv i natten skördar vad han sår, akta dig för drömmar som du stjäl och får.
Hans skratt bevakar lundens gömda stig, där skuggor sveper över skogens liv.
För varje stulet andetag och svek, måste en tjuv möta sitt smärtsamma ödelek.
Tricksterns vilja, vår ande här, så i hans nåd, våra liv bär.
I was terrified and confused. She started again, softer, in a way I could understand.
A thief in the night shall reap what he sows, beware the price of stolen dreams.
His laughter guards our hidden groves, where shadows cloak the forest's seams.
For every stolen breath and lie, a thief must meet his painful end.
The tricksters will, our spirits tie, so in his grace, our lives suspend.
The crowd surged forward, grabbing Noah first. He screamed, his terror echoing through the trees as they pulled him towards a makeshift altar beside the bonfire. The woman chanted louder, her voice rising in a hypnotic rhythm as they began their gruesome work.
They stripped him of his shirt and bound his arms to a wooden frame. I tried to move, to help him, but the grip on my shoulders tightened, pinning me to the ground.
The woman approached Noah, holding a knife with a blade that gleamed in the firelight. She started to slice into his back, her movements deliberate and unhurried. Noah's screams pierced the night as she methodically carved the shape of wings into his flesh.
Blood poured from the wounds, soaking the ground beneath him. The crowd's chant grew louder, almost drowning out his cries. I watched in horror as the woman reached into the incisions, breaking the ribs and pulling them outward, creating a parody of wings.
Noah's agony was unbearable to witness. His screams turned to whimpers, his body convulsing in pain. The woman didn't stop until the work was complete, his lungs exposed and hanging grotesquely from his back.
They lifted Noah's broken body and placed him over the fire. The smell of burning flesh filled the air, making me gag. His life ebbed away as the flames consumed him, the once vibrant light in his eyes fading to nothing.
The woman turned to me, her expression devoid of mercy. "You will meet the same fate," she said, "He demands it."
The smell of burning flesh and the sight of his broken body over the fire was seared into my mind. Despair settled over me as I closed my eyes.
A deafening blast shattered the night. My eyes flew open to see the shaman stumbling backward, a gaping wound in her chest. She collapsed to the ground, her white eyes staring lifelessly into the void.
The villagers turned in shock as another shot rang out, this time hitting one of the men holding me. I twisted free from their grasp and saw the park ranger standing at the edge of the clearing, a pump-action shotgun in his hands. He fired again, the sound echoing through the forest, before one of them tackled him to the ground.
"Run!" he shouted, his voice raw and desperate. "Get the hell out of here!"
I didn't need to be told twice. I sprinted into the darkness, the chaos of the clearing fading behind me. Branches whipped at my face, and the snow underfoot made every step a struggle. I could hear the sounds of fighting and gunshots, but I forced myself to keep moving.
The cold air burned in my lungs, but adrenaline pushed me forward. I didn't stop until I reached the station, my legs threatening to give out from under me. I burst through the door and slammed it behind me.
Inside, Carl lay where we had left him, his face pale and twisted in pain. I stumbled to the radio, my hands trembling as I fumbled with the controls.
"Mayday, mayday!" I yelled into the microphone. "This is an emergency! We need help! Please, someone, come quickly!"
Static filled the room, punctuated by my ragged breaths. I repeated the call, my voice growing more frantic with each passing second. Finally, a voice crackled through the speaker. "This is Ranger Station Bravo. What's your location? Over."
I could barely form the words. "Olympic National Park! The ranger station near mount Christie! We're under attack! Please, send help!"
"Copy that. Help is on the way. Stay put and stay safe. Over."
I collapsed to the floor, my body trembling with exhaustion and fear. Carl moaned softly, his eyes fluttering open. "What… What happened? Where's Noah?”
Tears streamed down my face and I found myself choked up. “He’s gone, man. Help is coming.”
The minutes stretched into an eternity as we waited. The wind howled around the station, and every creak and groan of the structure set my nerves on edge. I couldn't shake the feeling that we were being watched, that the forest itself was closing in on us.
The radio crackled again, this time with a different voice. "Helicopter en route, ETA fifteen minutes. Prepare for extraction."
I glanced at Carl, his eyes filled with confusion. "Hang on. We're getting out of here."
As the minutes ticked by, I couldn't help but think about the ranger. He had saved my life, but he hadn't made it back. My mind conjured up images of what might have happened to him, the cultists overwhelming him in the darkness. A sense of guilt gnawed at me, knowing he had sacrificed himself for us.
The sound of rotors cut through the night, growing louder as the helicopter approached. I ran to the window and saw its searchlight piercing the treetops, scanning for the station.
I helped Carl to his feet, supporting his weight as we made our way to the hatch. The helicopter hovered above, lowering a rescue basket. The wind from the rotors whipped the snow into a frenzy, but I didn't care. Salvation was finally here.
We secured Carl in the basket first, and I watched as he was hoisted up, disappearing into the safety of the helicopter. My turn was next. I realized that I was now alone and exposed. Fear coursing through me as I scanned around the edge of the forest, expecting to be grabbed and taken seconds before my rescue. But the moment never came. As I gripped the rope, I took one last look at the forest below. The flames of the bonfire still flickered in the distance.
I was lifted into the air, the ground falling away beneath me. The helicopter's crew pulled me inside, and I collapsed onto the floor still holding onto my pack, my body finally giving in to exhaustion. The doors closed, and the helicopter banked away, leaving the horrors of the park behind.
Weeks had passed since the harrowing events, but the memories clung to me like the bitter cold. I had returned to civilization, seeking solace in the familiar chaos of the city. I found a wealthy collector through a network of contacts. The artifacts fetched a price tenfold the cost of gear. The money was substantial, but as I held the cash, it felt like a hollow victory.
Noah's absence weighed heavily on me. His disappearance was chalked up as a missing persons case, and despite my best efforts to explain what had happened, no one believed me. The authorities conducted a search of the area, but they found no trace of the cult, the artifacts, or the clearing. It was as if the forest had swallowed up all the evidence.
I returned to the site where we had parked the truck. The dirt bikes were gone, stolen by opportunistic thieves, but the truck remained. I drove back in silence, the road winding through the dense forest. For a moment, I thought I saw the girl watching me from atop a ridge until I realized it was just paranoia. I stepped on the gas a little harder.
Back home, I checked the Tomb Raiders forum again. The post that had led us into the forest was gone, deleted without a trace. I messaged the mods, but apparently, they don’t keep records to maintain confidentiality. I wrote about our experience, detailing every terrifying moment, but the responses were skeptical at best. Most dismissed it as a work of fiction or a desperate cry for attention.
Time passed, and I tried to return to a semblance of normalcy. Yet, the wilderness called to me stronger than ever. It was my sanctuary, the only place where I could find peace amidst the turmoil. I spent more and more time outdoors than ever before, but now it always felt like I was just running from something.
Determined to prove what had happened, I returned to the forest with a camera and recording equipment. This time, I documented every step, capturing footage of the trees, the snow, and the eerie silence that hung in the air. I retraced our path, hoping to find the clearing again. But each night, as I reviewed the footage, something strange would happen. The files would be corrupted or entire segments missing.
I pressed on. I found the site where Noah had fallen, the ground still bearing faint traces of what had happened. I set up the camera and began to speak, recounting the events in detail. As I spoke, a cold wind swept through the clearing, and the camera's screen flickered. I finished my account and turned to check the recording, only to find the file corrupted once again, the footage replaced by static and a faint, mocking laughter.
I returned home, defeated and exhausted. My attempts to share what I had experienced were met with disbelief and ridicule. The files I managed to save were corrupted beyond recognition. It was as if the forest itself was conspiring against me.
Almost exactly one year later, as I browsed the forums, a new post caught my eye. It was cryptic, eerily similar to the one that had led us into the nightmare. It spoke of another trove of artifacts, hidden deep within the wilderness, waiting to be claimed.
The post was signed with a new name: Skygge. Different handle, same style. Another trap. They had taken so much from me, left scars that would never heal. I opened my drawer, my fingers brushing over the cold metal of my weapons. This was the moment I had been waiting for. This time, I'll be ready.
The forest’s secrets won't remain hidden forever.

Hey everyone, I recently visited Perth/Fremantle and of course did a day at Rottnest Island. I didn't feed or touch any quokkas but I did get close enough to snap a couple selfies and I did sit on the ground and sat in areas where they were running around. I am aware that quokkas carry salmonella but I'm wondering has anyone actually caught salmonella from a quokka? How common/likely is this? I like to think my hand hygiene is pretty good since I work in healthcare but the following day, I woke up with intense stomach pain, diarrhea and vomiting and a bit of fevechills. My husband, who was on this trip with me and ate almost everything the same as me with the exception of 2 things, was fine. He took lots of photos of quokkas too but probably wasn't laying on the ground like me. The 2 things I ate that he didn't include: a variation of a meat pie from the bakery on Rottnest Island and a dessert from a fancy restaurant in Fremantle that was chocolate mousse with a sort of jam compote on top. I include this detail because where we live now there was an incident many years ago at a fair where one of the foods served had a jam product filled with staph bacteria that made dozens of people sick. The timing of it all makes me think it could be the dessert I ate that night after our rotto trip but how common or easy is it to get salmonella or any other sickness from a quokka? I can't seem to find anyone who has openly said they got sick from them. Thank you!

I've been looking for comfort in these forums for weeks. They have been very helpful to me. Since my TPNI test was positive for T21 I searched for similar experiences, and these forums have been of great help throughout the process until my TFMR last Thursday, May 9, just a week ago.
Tought my friends have been of great help, it´s not the same. I only feel truly understood by those people who have had the misfortune of living this dramatic and transformative experience. I feel immense empathy for all of you. Now I am in the middle of the grieving process, my head goes one way, my body another. Life passes by me but I am still anchored in the experience of my TFRM. It has been horrible for me to have to give birth to my baby (week 20). My husband and I met him, we were with him, we hugged him. And this is killing me. All the doctors told us that it was better for grieving, and I was convinced that I wanted to see it. However, it seems to me the height of cruelty, to have to give birth to your baby and meet her while knowing that I have made the decision that he should not live. When you give birth you just want to protect your baby, take care of him, hug him, take him home, never part with him, because as soon as you meet him, in my experience, you fall in love.
I felt like I fell in love with my baby. At that moment I would have liked to go back, bring him back to life. Change my mind.
Making the decision when you are pregnant, although it is the most difficult decision a mother can face, is easier. When I opted for TFRM I felt the deepest pain of my life, but at the same time a certain relief, a certain peace that told me that it was the right decision. But after meeting him... What mother would kill his baby once that has met him? You're already in love with him. Your whole body, all your hormones, work to protect it.
I know that right now I am in the middle of the postpartum process and the pain is more acute because of it. But still, I can't stop thinking if we made the right decision. Our diagnosis was gray. Confirmed free trisomy 21, but on the high-detail ultrasound at 19 weeks, everything was perfect. In fact, the doctor told us that, if it had not been for NIPT and amniocentesis, the ultrasound would never have detected anything that would make them suspect T21.
I read a lot about T21 and in the end I think I chose from the fear. The fear of dealing with one of the more complicated cases. I know that I would have loved that child with all my soul, maybe it would have been the greatest love I would experience in my life. I have another two-year-old son and motherhood has transformed me, I love taking care of him, I love mothering, I was not frustrated when I reduced my work day. I think I wouldn't mind having to take care of my son with T21 forever. But I also thought that that was selfish. Experiencing this love maybe had condemned my child to a limited life experience. I thought that it was not fair.
That was my main thought for ultimately choosing TFRM.
But still I can't stop thinking about it. I see babies and children with T21 on social media who lead very good lives and, above all, are happy. I know the doubt will always be there. I will always wonder if I have lost the love of my life and if he could have been happy with me. Thank you for listening to me.

Hey all just wanted to share my most recent, WVTF Dark Skies 100K (a mouthful), experience. For context: 205lbs +/-3lbs 32yrs male I use trekking poles on race day to mitigate serious injury while my body adjusts to the sport, zone 2 the flats walk the uphills. Working towards my second year of endurance training. Tried Beast of The East 100 in December ‘23 made it 54miles 17hrs. Completed Naked Mountain 50miler in March ‘24 13hrs.
Three and a half weeks prior to the 100k, my program (speed based) caused an IT band injury. Immediately stopped running and started doing some daily banded work for the glutes, picked up swimming and biking as they only slightly bothered me.
Race day: -Mile 6 IT band starts hurting -Mile 14 leg shakes from pain. There was a single track trail sloping high to low from left to right. That caused the sharpest pain during the race. Mile15-55.34 decided I could potentially walk/hike the rest. Limping and alternating my injured leg from standard and pigeon foot walking as turning my foot outwards caused some relief in my knee area. Downhills also hurt, to compensate I drove my right heel into the ground to bear most of weight, got a blister from that 🤣.
Been four days since the race, there is not a a lot of range of motion in the knee, painful to the touch and squishy.
Cons: Can’t run right now and have to limp walk Pros: found out I can move (even though very slowly) with pain for a lot further than I thought I could.
Edit: The race itself was put together well, the location was phenomenal and challenging, West Virginia is beautiful

Ciao, my daughter just started her first period and i wonder how i could help her at all? She is experiencing bad pain in her bottom of her tummy, legs and her chest and she feels warm. She is bleeding alot from down there and i give her toilet paper to try help cover it.
I am sorry if my english is not the best, i am Italian. Also. I apologise for recent account, i would like to be private with this for her. She can read it for help and things.

I am not diagnosed with Cervical instability, but my primary actually listened to me when I brought up all of my issues and they line up with that type of diagnosis.. I am waiting on my neurologist to see what he wants to do after I get an EMG on my nerves in my arm and leg..
This is one that I forget because it isn’t constant and it happens once in awhile, depending on head position while asleep. I sleep on my back and only my back. Sometimes my head can fall to either side, but when I woke, my head was flat and facing forward but on a small incline. I have to sleep a bit propped up due to me being a heavy person. I cannot sleep flat. Anyway, I woke up from a dream because of my ears whooshing with my heartbeat. I slowly started moving my head to find a position to get it to stop. When I finally got up, I felt tension at the base of my neck. I am pretty sore up my neck and back but I am also having sciatic issues over the past few days and lower back pain. I guess my neck wanted to invite itself over to the pain party.. it’s not as bad as it can be at times, but it sure brought anxiety with it..
Of course, I fell back onto Google to “reassure” me like I usually do. Trying not to focus on the “omg you’re going to die of some sort of disease or cancer!” articles and went for the real possible ones.. The only issue was, there were less that agreed that neck issues can be the cause and that it is something more..
I want to be clear that I do not always have this type of pulsing in my ears. It is once in a while, it happens when my head is in some position that I guess my body doesn’t like and there can’t be proper flow? I do have the regular more common tinnitus daily.. Ringing of different pitches and it happens randomly in one ear, but has happened in both at different times. Who knows.. but I wanted to ask this community because I felt that if anyone here has pulsatile tinnitus, I could get some reassurance. I have no head pain or throbbing, I only have some neck pain. I am in a pain flare, and I can tell I’m super inflamed all over.

Hello All!
I am 30 weeks and have been fortunate to keep my my general fitness routine throughout the entirety of my pregnancy.
Up until a few weeks ago, this typically included a focus on compound lifts with usually 4-5 accessory movements to follow around 4-5 days per week. Afterward, I usually follow with 20-30 minutes of moderate intensity cardio, do daily walks, and over the last few weeks have been dabbling some Pilates videos on YouTube.
I’ve found that as my pregnancy has progressed I have had to reduce intensity on a lot of usual lifts like squats, deadlifts, bench, etc. And I cannot tolerate any single leg movements anymore such as lunges, steps ups, step downs, etc due to the horrible SI pain I have gotten after these work outs.
I’m at a point where I feel quite limited in which exercises I can tolerate for my legs which at this point are: squats, deadlifts, hip thrusts, and leg machines. And my training feels like a far cry from what used to be my normal. Other than just trying to maintain some level of strength knowing that after baby is here I won’t be able to do much of anything for 6 weeks I’m not sure how best to structure my routine moving forward.
I’ve seen some suggestions that as due date approaches the focus should shift to exercises and movements that help improve baby position for birth and improve hip mobility and pelvic floor stretches. But also feel like this could be accomplished doing a few specific stretches throughout the week.
I was curious to crowd source from you all —especially the mamas 30 weeks and beyond — if anyone is following a specific program or has switched their routines as they approach D-Day and what this looked like.
My major goals at this point: Maintain strength Maintain cardiovascular fitness Prepare for an unmedicated birth (hopefully)
Thanks in advance ☺️☺️

Ciao, my daughter just started her first period and i wonder how i could help her at all? She is experiencing bad pain in her bottom of her tummy, legs and her chest and she feels warm. She is bleeding alot from down there and i give her toilet paper to try help cover it.
I am sorry if my english is not the best, i am Italian. Also. I apologise for recent account, i would like to be private with this for her. She can read it for help and things.

Hi
I'm looking to get a Canyon Endurace CF, but my ridiculously short legs make it difficult to determine the correct size.
My measurements: Height: 1m72 (5'8") Inseam (without shoes): 74cm (29.1") Mobility: average
I'm not a racer, so the more relaxed geometry of the Endurace looks appealing. The Canyon website recommends XS, however I'm outside of the normal range on the chart. (Height wise I'd be in S, inseam is on the edge between 2XS and XS) Picture
I did do a check with myvelofit. (AI thing where you upload a video of yourself standing and it determines your body proportions and matches it to bike frames. The reviews of this app seem positive.) MyVeloFit recommends small. Picture of XS vs S comparison
Any advice is more than welcome!
Thanks!
Just for the sake of completeness: my current bike is a cheap Triban RC500 (size S) from Decathlon. Here's a comparison between the geometries. It does occasionally give me some lower back pain, but I'm clueless regarding the reason.

Has anyone experienced abdominal/pelvic pain after completing 7 days of doxycycline? This has been going on for over a week.
I haven’t been diagnosed with any STI - my results are negative.
I didn’t have these symptoms before taking the medicine and the onset occurred whilst completing my last dose.
I feel like my bowels are also messed up from taking them. BMs started loose and soft now I’m constipated.
Pains feel like sharp stabbing pains in lower abdomen, sometimes in my public bone area, lower back/flank pain both sides, nerve pain down legs. No UTI issues.
Note - I also have PCOS so I suppose the pain could be cyst related although the timing is suspicious. Unless doxy has caused a flare of my symptoms?

I, My Sister, My Mother and My Grandmother live together in a big house. My Father left when i was 2, My Grandpa is alive but has never been in my life and my Grandmas Second Lover who i consider to be my grandpa died in 2011 to Lung Cancer.
So heres what hapened today. Tell me if ive been gaslighted or not but it sure feels like it:
My pet bearded dragon got a wierd lump on her upper lip that she flinches from whenever i touch it so its obviosly painful. I told my mother who said she whoudnt bring her to a vet because shes tired and it costs money. (Mind you ive told her many times in the past 3 months to take her to a vet). I told my grandmother and she just chucked about it and said shes fine and she whoudnt be doing it.
I offered to pay the vet fees and my Sister even offered to pay them but they still refuse.
We argued untill my grandma walked in. We spoke back and forth untill my Grandma insulted me. I insulted her back with a way less bad insult and then she called me a Moron and i called her stupid.
My mother came between us and looked at me and told that i had to stop even tho my grandma started it by insulting me first. Now both are angry at me and my mother told me im scary when im mad (even tho i havent even touched them in 4 Years when ive been mad and last time i did i just grabed my mother by her shoulders gently and said please lissen to me, i havent actually hit anyone in anger for 10+ years and im 21 yet im still too scary i guess) and my mother said i had to think about what i said. I asked what was the wrong thing i said. She dodged the question like 3 times and started to speak about someting else.
When she finaly answeared she said 'Do you think what you said will make things better or change someting?' I said 'I guess not.' (Since me and my grandmas fight end the same way everytime where my mother picks her side and im left on my own to make the whole thing be my fault). I told her 'How did my Grandmother insulting me help?' She said 'You shouldnt insult her and i should respect my elderly.' I said now in anger 'I dont respect her nor you right now and i cant believe what im hearing' she then left to the balcony to smoke like she allways does after these fights.
I was so angered and annoyed but then my Sister came to me and started calming me down and said she agreed me. We talked back and forth till i wasent as angry anymore and i just walked into the bathroom and cooled off there.
I hate these 2 women and how my mother is such a coward to allways take my grandmas side. ( Couple times she has spoken to me later to tell me she agreed with me and that she didint want to fight with her mother. But apearently her son isint off the limits even tho acording to her im scary when mad and when i told her so was Grandma she just said no she isint. So wtf. )
Not to mention my mother told me i ruined her day afterwards. Is this gaslighting? If it is its been hapening since i was a little kid.
I wonder what it takes for them to finaly go and bring her to a vet... they preasured me to get her in the first place. I said i wasent sure if i was responsible enough and that its an exotic pet that needs medical check ups. They told me that someone else was trying to buy her and that this might be my only change so i got her. Yet when i complained to them about that they both looled angry or very annoyed and refused to answear that.
I feel bullied due to my Autism and memory problems causing me to often forget things i or they said wich makes this even more annoying. I allways apologise for these since i see things better that way than us being mad at each other. My grandma even has said to me that if i fought with her like this again she whould leave. That was years ago so obviosly she wasent being serious but still.
This time? No i refuse to apologise i did nothing wrong. Mayby i shoudnt have insulted my grandma back but at that point them seemingly seeing my pet as some toy made me so angry i did insult her back. And now i remember what i called her and what she called me. She called me a Log-Head and i called her a Car Jack. After wich she called me a moron and i called her stupid. Thats how it went and that was the worst thing i did in this.
This isint the first time all this hapened. This is like the hundred time. My family well...
My Sister is Timid and doesent want to take part in these fights but she often messages to me or just tells me later that i was in the right when all is over. (i dont blame her for being timid, shes had a rough childhood in being depressed, bullied and loosing half her hearing to infection.)
My Mother is Scared of her mother clearly but even when our Grandma isint involved she never has said to me she was wrong. For example yesterday she said 'Coffee doesent corrode your teeth.' I called bs and googled and i was correct and coffee is acidic and can corrode your teeth. I told her to admid she was wrong like 5 times and she never did. This was a minor thing but upon reflecting now i dont think she has ever apologised for being wrong ever.
My grandmother if im being honest is a Hypocritical, Fuse-Headed, Short Minded, Self-Apathetic, Hard working old Woman. I love her and i care for her but shes just so infuriating. I often for fun mimic my Sister, Mother and Grandmothers speech to joke around but when my grandma hears me mimic them its okay, but if i mimic her im the bad guy. Worst of all shes mimiced me many times and ive not been offended by it.
So there. What do you think? Mayby it is really me whos the problem and in my autistic mind i just dont understand.
TL:DR: ( Too Long Didint Read)
My Mother takes my Grandmas side in everything even if its obvious shes in the wrong and they both gaslight me into thinking i was in the wrong in our fights and now i dont know what to do.

Hey guys I wrote two versions of the first fight scene of dumb machop isekai and would like your opinions on which you think is more engaging, more interesting, better written, whatever. Let me know.
Obviously there is prior context to the scene missing, but basically our boy is in the middle of the woods when an Abra walks up to him, generates some weird distortion in the air, and makes it clear its time to throw hands. This is our boys first fight of the story.
I tried making the second draft a little less verbose in areas where I felt it was unnecessary, but you let me know if the missing, added, and rearranged detail makes it better or worse, and in what ways. I also added an injury at the start of the fight and made the ending more violent for emphasis. Not injuring the Abra makes the MC seem crazy, risking himself like that to bask. More understandable without an injury to spur his fear in that first draft, but still, I think a more complete incapacitation seems the way to go either way. Feel free to point out grammar mistakes, they are drafts for a reason. The rewrite divergence point begins at the arrows.
Isekai machop vs abra, drafts 1 and 2.
Draft 1:
I didn't know what that distortion was. Maybe it was a landmine, maybe it was a tripwire that would let Abra attack from two angles if I got between it and them. Maybe it was the beginnings of a battlefield coverage move, or a bomb, or an arbitrary marker in 3D space that would help Abra orientate itself, or the anchor by which it was now pushing itself off the ground and levitating with. But another possibility rested at the back of my mind, a possibility with an obvious path to victory, if it were true. I chose that path.
Fighting types were weak to psychic types, I knew this. I also knew that psychic powers were fucking scary. Strong and invisible and without any startup, in theory. In some fictional stories they didn't even need to see you, and they could do things like directly modify your thoughts. If there weren't strict limitations to a power like that then it would just be unreasonably strong, so strong that psychics should have wiped every other species off the face of the planet. The fact they hadn't, I hoped, meant that I still had a chance. I would make decisions based on the assumption I did.
First things first, testing the waters. If this failed, I would run away. That Abra was walking until it saw me, implying flight took some kind of energy. I probably had more endurance than this thing's flight, and more speed than it did in two legs. I could probably escape if the need arose.
I crouched to pick up a hefty rock, a little larger than my hand, and started to run sideways at top speed, circling my opponent from a distance. Its eyes began to glow as it tracked me in place, like it sat on an invisible swivel chair. I tensed in preparation to be struck with sudden pain, either from a killer headache, twisted muscle, or full body hold. Then I saw it, a faint purple haze snaking its way between us, so faint that I certainly only noticed it because of my enhanced senses, fast as a bullet.
→I dropped to my knees and slid beneath it, before I launched myself behind the nearest tree. My chest thrummed with excitement! I can do this! Psychic energy has travel time! It couldn't just bridge gaps in space arbitrarily, and its speed wasn't like a particle of light or something equally ridiculous. This Abra was nothing more than a glorified turret.
I tore off an impressive chunk of wood from the tree, and crushed a handful into smaller chunks with a squeeze. I darted out and shotgunned them at the floating fox. A middle chunk of the wood seemed to waver and slow, apparently colliding midair with whatever attack it had sent my way. The remaining wood shrapnel flew fast enough and in a cone wide enough that the abra simply couldn't dodge, though its attempt revealed its prodigious speed. Holy shit it could fly. It was hit, and though I half expected a skewered fox, all I got was a disorientated psychic. Good enough, I rushed it down myself, bashing rock still in hand.
As I bore down on its position, stuck choosing between a pressured retreat and close quarters combat with me, it chose a third, less risky option. The instant its body distorted, I turned around and hurled the rock with all my might. The moment Abra appeared at the distortion it placed earlier, it was struck by something nearly its own body weight moving at the speed of a musket ball, directly against its forehead.
Abra was launched away at speed, flipping backwards violently. Abra seemed to try and correct its orientation with its levitation powers, but that proved a mistake, because it only served to toss itself sideways into a tree waist first, eliciting a proper yelp. It flipped like a beyblade now, having hardly killed its initial speed. Soon afterwards, its remaining momentum was focused into another tree to the head. Instead of sending it sprawling, it started to finally stabilize in place. Abra began to float slightly higher while its upper body was pushed over its lower, forcefully orienting itself into a sitting position.
It was from this position that Abra was finally able to see the Machop two strides away, eyes opening wide in reaction. I never drop the follow through. By the time I was airborne in my first stride, Abra was floating up fast. By the time I landed, I had already understood its reactionary choice, and leapt. Though it started earlier, I rose faster. I caught its leg in as iron a grip I could muster. My forward momentum and weight shot us out of the sky before I sledgehammered the thing full body into the dirt.
I shot forward and down to grasp its thin neck just tight enough that I could wring it with a bit more force, and held my other fist ready to pummel. Normally this is the part where I would finish it, but instead I grinned and waited. Fucking do something. Its head was bleeding, though far less than I would have expected, as it looked into my eyes with its own, now wide, peepers. Even across the species barrier its sheer terror was palpable.
It was at this point that the littlest bulbasaur appeared above ground, looking at us with its mouth agape. "You won!?"
Draft 2:
I didn't know what that distortion was. Maybe it was a landmine, maybe it was a tripwire that would let Abra attack from two angles if I got between it and them. Maybe it was the beginnings of a battlefield coverage move, or a bomb, or an arbitrary marker in 3D space that would help Abra orientate itself, or the anchor by which it was now pushing itself off the ground and levitating with. But another possibility rested at the back of my mind, a possibility with an obvious path to victory, if it were true. I chose that path.
Fighting types were weak to psychic types, I knew this. I also knew that psychic powers were fucking scary. Strong and invisible and without any startup, in theory. In some fictional stories they didn't even need to see you, and they could do things like directly modify your thoughts. If there weren't strict limitations to a power like that then it would just be unreasonably strong, so strong that psychics should have wiped every other species off the face of the planet. The fact they hadn't, I hoped, meant that I still had a chance. I would make decisions based on the assumption I did.
First things first, testing the waters. If this failed, I would run away. That Abra was walking until it saw me, implying flight took some kind of energy. I probably had more endurance than this thing's flight, and more speed than it did in two legs. I could probably escape if the need arose.
I crouched to pick up a hefty rock, a little larger than my hand, and started to run sideways at top speed, circling my opponent from a distance. Its eyes began to glow as it tracked me in place, like it sat on an invisible swivel chair. I tensed in preparation to be struck with sudden pain, either from a killer headache, twisted muscle, or full body hold. Then I saw it, a faint purple haze snaking its way between us, so faint that I certainly only noticed it because of my enhanced senses, fast as a bullet.
→It didn't work. I failed to dodge it. I should run. Can I run?
On earth, my body was simply more fragile than my will. It's all too easy to push your body to its end. Humans spend more time working around limitations than they do pushing their limits. And every time you find something worth pushing your will to its fullest for, your body will inevitably fail. Because of this, the greatest combatants use only as much as is necessary, push their bodies as far as they are worth pushing and no more. If that isn't enough, they fill the gap with schemes and techniques. If that too, isn't enough, they can simply escue all their limits, use up everything their flesh will give, and die. Put it all on one moment.
Seems most people never found whatever they'd push that hard for, or at least were never put into a situation where they had to fight for it. I was. Some people think their lives have value beyond what those lives can bring to them. Existence is just a net. Every step is a sway through the waters of experience, to capture it, that moment. You only get one. Because the body can't handle more.
It was only now, as my thigh turned into pulp, ripped to the bone, my body screaming at me, that I was possessed of a revelation so strong it rippled through my whole being.
Now, there's no gaps to fill, now, I can push as hard as I want, now, I can experience that moment as many times as my will can reach it.
Half a moment after I was attacked, I bent my remaining leg and catapulted myself behind the nearest tree. By the time I hit its cover I was laughing. By the instant I left it, I was squeezing a massive wood chunk ready to throw. I chucked it hard, a portion of the shrapnel losing its speed and wobbling midair against the Abras follow up attack. The remaining splinters shotgunned forwards and met flesh.
Instead of a skewered fox, I got a disoriented psychic, but that's fine. I was already galloping forward on a leg and its opposite arm. When my enemy recovered, I was already bearing down. My senses were so close to their peak that I realized Abras next move at the same time they made it. When I bore down on it for long enough that it should have started moving, should have several instances beyond enough time to react with at least something panicked, and it had not, I knew what it was about to do.
The fact that it hadn't tried to create distance or panicked told me that its startup was at least fast enough to save them from the rock I was slamming down upon them right now. So I adjusted my muscles, and burned them to plow right through Abra and around again. As the abras form wavered, it disappeared. Then they reappeared at the distortion they placed when this fight began, and was immediately blasted in the skull by the rock I had cannoned behind my swing.
By the time they'd hit two trees trying to correct with levitation, and beybladed through the air thanks to sheer velocity, I was nearly upon them. As they regained control. Their eyes opened in fear. Without their little fallback, they really couldn't run now. They began to float higher, my foot hit the ground, they created distance, I closed it. Though they began earlier, my leap rose faster, I caught their leg in a grip akin to a garbage compactor and a raccoon that just didn't know any better, let my weight and sheer momentum tear us from the sky, and hammered them into solid bark covered root.
I didn't stop now, everyone knows what you do to zoners who get in range. I struck, though the force was great, there was hardly any damage. I struck, the Abras eyes were alight with panic, it helds its hands towards me. I felt what it was about to do, and let the gravity of my acceptance hold my heart and mind steady for the shock of having my kidneys blown out. It didn't come. I struck, and this one was different.
When I hit it with the wood, it seemed little different from taking a push and some dust in the eye, when I hit with my rock, it bled and flew, but nothing more. When I struck once and twice, with the might of ten men, it seemed to take it as the blows of one. Now, its skull cracked audibly, blood vessels burst out to open air as an eye swelled from hidden pressure. I struck, the other side transformed into something more horrible than the first, Abra engulfed air with a staggered rhythm, like a reverse whoopee cushion, the pitch and tone of the intake close to what a child's sobbing would be.
I gathered its wrists in my hands and destroyed them as easily as making a fist. Its discordant gasps were now constant, burbling and choking on its panic. Not a thought in that head. I smiled. I laughed. I flipped my opponent over and sat on its back, relaxed as my hand descended to grace its neck, ready to crush at the slightest provocation.
Before anything else, I saw that runt of a bulbasaur moving from its shelter with trepidation in its step, and purpose in its eyes. When it saw me, the weight left its gaze, it froze, mouth hanging open. "You won?!"

husband said “no” when i asked for help
i want to cuss. i’ve had a fever and full body aches and chills for two days now due to mastitis, my doctor hasn’t sent in my antibiotics yet and might need me to come in person to prescribe them. i’ve been up all night for the past two days with prickly, achy bones/skin and night sweats. if i wear pjs to bed- im sweating my balls off, if i wear underwear to bed-im shivering and achy. i co sleep with baby and she is a space heater. so then i’m achy and shivering AND sweating. my mom was able to come help yesterday morning. i had woken up my husband 5 mins before his 7:45 work alarm and asked him to hold baby so i could get at least a half hour-hour of sleep. he works from home and baby was recently fed, changed and asleep. he took forever getting out of bed, had her for 10 mins then woke me up in a rush and gave me back the sleeping(!!!) baby bc he had to do a virtual meeting (with his camera off). i took her and sat and cried. my mom was able to drive over an hour later and helped me so i could get two hours of sleep.
THIS MORNING i have been up all night taking on and off blankets, taking tylenol, feeding, changing, shivering and aching. my husband stayed up until 12:30am playing video games. i woke him up at 4:45 and asked if he could get up at 5:30am to hold the baby so i can sleep. he straight up said no and rolled back over. i asked him to repeat himself. he said “no i need to sleep, i have work” (he makes his own hours and works from home) i told him that i am in pain, ive been up all night with baby, why won’t you help me. you’re her dad. he said “sorry,no” and rolled over again. i’m so mad i could spit. all i want is sleep. he could’ve held the sleeping baby while playing video games last night and then i could’ve slept, he could go to work later in the day so i can sleep. he told me “you get to catch up on sleep whenever you want during the day, i can’t” hypothetically, if my husband helped hold the baby during the day, or if she’d sleep in her bassinet, yes. i could. but none of those are true. i hate this situation and im pissed. thanks for letting me rant.
tldr: my husband is an asshole and i’m exhausted.
there. i cussed.

In George Orwell’s Animal Farm which is on the subject of the existence of a society of animals living on the Manor Farm. One first thinks that this novel is about the animals living in a farm from the title. But as the story goes on, it gradually begins to make the readers understand the depth content of the workings of society in Communist Russia. George has accurately compared the society of human to the animals to the animals living in the Manor Farm. In this novel, author has compared the Russian revolution, where animals represent the significant personage and act as the leaders in the Russian Community. Animals are used to demonstrate the operation of the communist class system and how the citizens(people) respond to this and the effect of the leadership by early Russian leaders such as Stalin on the behavior of the people of Russia. For instance, the Old Major makes the speech to other animals about the idea of revolution. Since he dies before the beginning of the revolution, it could be compared to the Karl Marx, whose ideas set to the Communist revolution in motion. The seven commandments are consider as one of the important step in the revolution which changed by the rulers of the Farm. This paper talks about how the seven commandments were altered during throughout the story and whether it reflects the message of the Communist Manifesto.
After the rebellion took place in Manor Farm, it changed to Animal Farm where the set of laws was introduced to the citizens of the farm by the leaders. The set of laws which are known as The Seven Commandment are said to be “form an unalterable law by which all animals on Animal Farm must live forever after.”(Orwell) These Commandments were so important that they were painted by Snowball and Squealer “in giant white letters that could be read from thirty yards away.”(Orwell) The original Seven Commandments ran as:

1. Whatever goes upon two legs is an enemy.
2. Whatever goes upon four legs or has wings, is a friend.
3. No animal shall sleep in a bed
4. No animal shall drink alcohol.
5. No animal shall kill other animal.
6. No animal shall wear clothes.
7. All animals are equal.

These commandments were to be followed by all the animals living on the farm at all times regardless. As one can think from the reading, the simplest phrase that explains these commandments is “Four legs good, two legs bad.” As time passed by, the commandments were altered by the rulers of the farm. Napoleon (the pig who emerges as the leader of Animal Farm after rebellion) who very cleverly broke the commandment and reintroduced as “four legs good, two legs are better” Even though the first two commandments state that anyone on two legs is bad and should not be allowed in the farm, they were wracked in the first year. Since the pigs started walking on two legs, the first commandment was violated and more over, the hero of the Battle of the Cowshed, Snowball turned into an enemy of the Farm as he was thrown out by Napoleon and allowing trading through Mr. Whymper resulting in violation of commandments .
The pigs moved back in to the farm house which result into alteration of the first commandments. The third commandment restricts animals of the farm to sleep in the bed which was forced to change by Napoleon with the modification of the commandment by adding “with sheets.” After the rebellion took place in the farm, the first commandment overruled which was being “all animals equal.” As we read thru out the story the pigs were keep on changing the “unalterable laws” for their comfort just like we saw above with sleeping in the bed. According to Napoleon, sleeping on beds is not a major change yet it was not allowed earlier since humans lived on the farm slept on the bed. The pigs changed the commandment so wisely that the other animals of the farm didn’t think as the violation of the commandment.
The next commandment to change is “No animal shall kill other animal”. This happens not long after the confessions and executions of animals on the farm that were supposed traitors and in league with Snowball. After these executions, again Muriel, Clover and also Benjamin plus some other animals felt this did not square with this commandment. Once again, the pigs have changed the Commandments in order to justify their actions. The animals read the Commandment they though did not agree, “No animal shall kill other animal without cause”, and then the animals see how really the Commandments had not been violated.
The next commandment to change is when Napoleon abuses his power and made life harder for other animals. The pigs impose more control while reserving privileges for themselves. Squealer justifies every statement Napoleon makes, even the pigs’ alteration of the Seven Commandments of Animalism. “No animal shall drink alcohol” is changed to “No animal shall drink alcohol to excess” when the pigs discover the farmer’s whisky.
One would never think that pigs ever made change to the commandment about the clothes as they were enough powerful to rule other animals. The seventh commandment explains that all animals in the world are treated equally without distinction. Instead of considering the commandments as “unalterable laws,” they were replaced by worthless slogan “All animals are equal, but some are more equal than others,” which is totally opposite to with what they were introduced to other animals.
Orwell has used images to make his argument stronger. He has used events to help readers to understand his thoughts. While reading, we develop a feeling of sadness inside getting attach emotionally to the story. Orwell writes in a way to targets readers emotions because they have the ability to experience and feel the pain suffered by the animals in the farm. The following scene could create a strong sorrow to the readers “So Napoleon, with the help of his dogs, slaughters anyone who is said to be disloyal. The tale of confessions and executions went on, until there was a pile of corpses lying before Napoleon’s feet and the air was heavy with the smell of blood, which had been unknown there since the expulsion of Jones.” To top it off, Napoleon outlaws Beasts of England, which had served as one of the only remaining ties between Animal Farm and old Major?” (Orwell 65).
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In conclusion, it is clear that George Orwell intended his novel to allegorically represent the figures and events of the Russian Revolution, and through the characters of Mr. Jones as Czar Nicholas, Old Major as Karl Marx, and Napoleon as Joseph Stalin, Animal Farm makes a profound statement regarding the abuse of power. The animals began their revolution with the best intentions. However, their noble ideas of a utopian society where “all animals are created equal” gradually deteriorated into a totalitarian state with a cruel and unjust dictator which, of course, mirrors the chain of events that turned Marx’s dream of a classless society into the nightmare of Stalin’s ruthless regime. This evil cycle of rebellion, power, and then corruption is best described by Barbara Tuchman: “Every successful revolution puts on in time the robes of the tyrant it has deposed.”
Work Cited
Orwell, George. George Orwell’s Animal Farm. New York: Nick Hern Books, 2004. Print
Coffin, Judith G., and Robert C. Stacey. Western Civilizations. 16th ed. Vol. 2. 500 Fifth Ave, New York, N.Y. 10110: Norton & Company, 2008. Print.

Discord/Reddit Name: [Kulp2025], [Kulp2025]
Primary Character:
Name and House: Rickard Bolton
Age: 20
Cultural Group: First Men
Appearance: Black of hair, trimmed short on the sides, longer and swept back on top. Eyes the lifeless gray of a winters sky. Oddly perfectly kept teeth, a pride of his. His frame is slightly muscular and his height is two fingers width below the average mans.
Trait: Insidious
Skill(s): Axes, Skulker, Espionage, Investigator, Scribe
Talent(s): Tracking, Hawking, Being a tad bit creepy
Negative Trait: X
Starting Title(s): Lord of the Dreadfort
Starting Location: Silverglade Tile
//
Auxiliary Character:
Name and House: Bannen Snow
Age: 27
Cultural Group: First Men
Appearance: Tall and gaunt with thinning black hair. Remarked upon behind his back as appearing as the ghost of the infamous Calon Bolton himself.
Trait: Steward
Skill(s): Avaricious, Scrutinous, Architect
Talent(s): Counting and sums, Upper Management, Improving Operations Efficiencies
Negative Trait: X
Starting Title(s): Steward of House Bolton
Starting Location: The Dreadfort
Biography:
The Sons Rebellion. Recolected upon as a time of great pain and hardships for many and all. A season of blood that pitted brother against brother, friend against friend, amongst the northmen. An era where trusts and old allegiances meant little and less. Nigh on near the end of the reckless turmoil, in the thick of the stabbings and bloodletting, Rickard Bolton was born, a young babe. Nary a moon came and passed before Lord Royce Bolton passed the babe off to Lord Stark, to serve as a ward, to serve as a hostage.
Winterfell. A home, of sorts, away from home. The Starks were never outright cruel to the young Bolton boy as he aged. There were no beatings or punishments without having rightfully earned them, but they were always cold and otherwise distant. Never a one wanting to overly welcome the youth, for he was not family, never would be, merely a ward in a home that was never his.
Weeks became months, months became years, all blurring by. Rumors trickled in from the outside world, or the occasional snippet of information passed off from one of the Stark children, meant as kindness or insult, Rickard could never say. He’d a brother they said. A sickly cripple born from an ugly hag in the cells of the Dreadfort. Later a sister they said. Born a healthy girl, only she slayed her mother in coming into the world. The hardest news he denied for some time until the words came from enough mouths it had to be true, Lord Bolton, his own father had died.
Old age they said it so, the ghost of Calon Bolton himself in the night did it they’d said, the bastard Snow has his hands red they’d said. It didn’t matter what lie or what rumor he gathered up, they all pointed the same way, the old man was dead to the bones. Rickard had spent many nights foolishly dreaming childish fantasies. Imagining the day his father would come, confront the Starks, demand his return home. Now that would never come to pass. He was left to only imagine what the man once had looked like, what home looked like.
By the men of the castle Rickard learned his skills, smarts, and wisdoms of the world. He had a natural tendency towards letters and writing. He’d learned to hunt, to hawk, and play with the others his age. By the Starks rule he was shown how to walk the path of a “just” lord and to scorn the paths of cruelty. He’d taken to embrace the free time he’d earn to spend within the confines of the Godswood, a small sanctuary amidst the storm. In the practice yard his hand grew to favor the caressing haft of an axe over any other tool of pain, though the bruises he earned were many.
Years blurred by, life became a routine of uneventfulness apart from the occasional hunts and small feasts. Eventually when he became of age his hand was bound and wed to that of Dacey Stark, within Winterfell before the Old Gods to witness the pact. An attempt to suture old wounds, to mend the wrongs of yesterdays brothers. United, the two departed the heart of the north and set course for home, for the Dreadfort. Within a years passing a young girl would be born. Still uncertain with his place in the world, Rickard would prepare to embark upon a pilgrimage, to find the answers his soul sought to life.
Timeline:
~ 5AC - Calon Bolton leads the Sons Rebellion. Rickard is born and warded to the Starks of Winterfell. Duncan Bolton takes the black.
~ 6AC - Brother, Torrhen is born.
~ 8AC - Sister, Wylla is born.
~ 11AC - Lord Royce Bolton passes of old age.
~ 23AC - Wardship at an end, wed to Dacey Stark, Rickard leaves Winterfell.
~ 24AC - Daughter, Hanna is born.
~ 25AC - Departs upon a pilgrimage to the Old Gods.
Family Tree
Link
Supporting Characters
~ Torrhen Bolton - (Scholar) A sickly young man who favors books to all else.
~ Wylla Bolton - (General) A drunk who favors wine to all else.
~ Dacey Bolton - (No Archetype) Wife to Rickard.

Hello guys, I've been trying to typify myself but I always identify with different functions and maybe my compression is not the best in the subject.
I'm a girl and I'm 21 years old, English is not my main language so sorry for any mistakes.
Section 1
How do you work? Why do people go to work? Are there any parameters that determine whether you can do work or not? What are they?
I work because I have no choice, that's how the world I was born is and that's how I'm going to live, I admire those who try to change the course of things like a superhero but I'm a mere citizen.
Because people have dreams and goals and they can't achieve what they want without money unless they're lucky enough to be born into an elite family, if so they won the lucky roulette wheel of life.
I don't work well in heavy environments, I survived only 1 day in a factory because a woman keep screaming at me, everyone tried to convince me to try harder but I was feeling to overwhelmed.
How do you determine the quality of work? How do you determine the quality of a purchase? Do you pay any attention to it
Result.
I'm a bit picky with the quality of my stuff, especially the fabric of my clothes. It's because of comfort but also for aesthetics.
There is a professional next to you. How do you know they are a professional? How do you evaluate their skill?
They get the job done on time and well done. I don't think there's only one way to do things, we are all taught in a certain way but then we also adapt, we end up creating our own way of doing things that work for us.
If you struggle to do something, how do you fix that? Do you know if your performance is better or worse than others?
It depends, I usually learn by trying until it works but I can't always use this technique so I seek tutorials or ask for help.
Definitely, I'm very paranoid about my job, I hate feeling incompetent. If I have the conditions and knowledge to take the initiative to do something at work, I'll do it, but if I'm insecure then I'd rather stay quiet I don't want to mess things up.
How do you measure the success of a job? What standard do you use? Do you pay attention to it? When should you deviate from this standard?
I like easy jobs, constant stress is not for me. Easy, the money, the free time I will have, the responsibilities (few I expect) and the effort.
Section 2
What is a whole? Can you identify its parts? Are the parts equivalent to the whole?
I'm so confused, am I supposed to give a definition or come out with some abstract sentence?
What does "logical" mean? What is your understanding? Do you think that it correlates with the common view? How do you know you are being logical?
Logic to me is something that makes sense, when your actions and words are coherent and when you take into account all the factors to make a correct decision. Contrary to what the Alphas may believe, Logic is not coldness, in fact, to be completely logical you have to take the emotions of others and your own into account, otherwise you are just emotionally unavailable. For example, killing half the population just because someone killed your cat is not logical, you're actually being driven just by emotions.
What is hierarchy? Give examples of hierarchies. Do you need to follow it? Why or why not? Explain how hierarchy is used in a system you are familiar with.
In short, it's when you're on the first floor and need to climb the stairs to get to the second, you may be able to pay someone to build an elevator to get up there faster, or you can't afford it and you have to overcome all the conditions, shortness of breath, pain in your legs, the stairs that are old and falling apart...
Hierarchy is something natural and will always exist, no matter how much you hate it, the world is not a fair place and there will always be someone eating fried chicken in a lamborghini at the expense of a child who makes clothes for shein.
If you're ambitious you have to do it, but if you're like me who just want to have money to live a "basic life", then you don't need to climb so many stairs, just the necessary ones.
What is classification? How does classification work? Why is it needed and where is it applied? Give examples.**
Is when you take a product, tangible or not (e.g. a bread or skills) and give it a certain punctuation/category according to certain requirements.
Obviously, imagine that you built a building made of toothpicks (product) that would collapse 1 minute after being exposed to the wind because no one had the brilliant idea to take into account the meteorological conditions (requirement)
Are your ideas consistent? How do you know they are consistent? How do you spot inconsistency in others' ideas?
I'm usually an introspective person, so even when my ideas are incoherent I think about them at some point and "correct" the incoherence, unless I'm really emotional I think that during those moments no one is coherent.
Yes, but I usually prefer to keep quiet if it's none of my business.
Section 3
Can you press people? What methods do you use? How does it happen?
Usually no, first of all I don't like to force anyone to do anything because I don't like to be forced either, second that I'm not good at forcing people especially strangers and it's the main reason to have been bullied and still have problems with people walking over me.
What I do is that I tell the advantages of doing something the way I want or admit that it would be convenient for me.
What can happen is when I do something for a person over and over again and they never reciprocate, and there is when I can be a manipulative and childish (passive-agressive)
How do you deal with opposition? What methods do you use to defend your interests?
It depends on the situation, I react badly if it's the example I gave earlier. If someone starts trying to control me indirectly, I can react two ways, or I play dumb for the sake of peace or the manipulation goes directly against my interests and in that case I walk away (with strangers) or protest (people close to me).
When do you think it's ok to occupy someone's space? Do you recognize it?
When they occupy yours is the only situation I can think of right now.
Do others think you are a strong-willed person? Do you think you have a strong will?
I don't know what others think.
It depends if it's about something I'm sure I want, for example a lot of people say I'm crazy for wanting to leave the country but I made that choice for myself and that's what I'm going to do, if I don't change my mind until then (which usually doesn't happen). Otherwise I think I can be seen as lazy, I need a very strong motivation that comes from myself.
How do you satisfy your physical senses? What examples can you give? What physical experiences are you drawn to?
I really like hot baths and pleasant smells. I'm a bit paranoid about my own smell, I'm always putting on deodorant for example.
On the other hand I'm not very good with my internal health, I have to force myself to remember to drink water and food is optional, I don't usually eat breakfast and especially at work I only eat salty snacks or soup most time. I tend to eat more when I want to be greedy or have food available, if I have to do it then I don't eat or I make something simple. I have a friend who judges me for it (I think she has strong Si).
I like some extreme activities, for example I've done canoeing which I loved and every summer I go to the scariest carousels at the fair, I feel free.
How do you find harmony with your environment? How do you build a harmonious environment? What happens if this harmony is disturbed?
I like quiet environments where everyone is genuinely fine and not pretending, so if any of my friends are feeling bad I try to help them. I also like to go to beautiful places with friends or alone like organize a picnic, go to a waterfall...
What does comfort mean to you? How do you create it?
Being in a place alone where I don't need to be anxious all the time, where I can let my guard down, eat sushi while listening to the sound of the rain in warm pajamas and under my blanket creating some fake scenario on my head.
How do you express yourself in your hobbies? How do you engage yourself with those things?
When I was a kid I tried to start playing piano but I dind't last long because It requires a long time to get results and I didn't want to practice at home. I prefer simpler hobbies without commitments, for example playing video games, painting, reading books, and trying new hobbies.
I'd really like to start trying to go to craft classes, but short classes to then be able to try another one until maybe I find one that suits me.
Tell us how you'd design any room, house or an office. Do you do it yourself, or trust someone else to do it? Why?
If I had the money I would call someone to take care of the big part, I would tell them exactly what I want, then I would just take care of the details.
Is it acceptable to express emotions in public? Give examples of inappropriate expression of emotions
That's not a question of being acceptable or not, emotions can't always be controlled, you never know what someone is going through behind the scenes.
But I admit that I prefer people who don't show emotions in an dramatic way, for example in my work there are a lot of people who start screaming and who are clearly exaggerating and I have to control myself not to laugh.
I'm mostly touched by people who are more reserved with their emotions because I identify with them.
How do you express your emotions? Can you tell how your expressions affect others in a positive or negative way?
I never had emotional support so I like to deal with my emotions alone.
I don't know if I consider myself a very emotional person , I have my moments where I start crying for many different reasons because I kept a lot of things inside me, I also have days where I'm in a very bad mood without knowing why and I start being mean to close people.
I'm a very private person, I don't like exaggerated demonstrations, a lot of "i love you" and compliments make me bored and seem fake.
Are you able to change your demeanor in order to interact with your environment in a more or less suitable way? How do you determine what is suitable?
These questions make me think that I don't know myself that well.
I think so, I know how to dress up and not talk about inappropriate things even if I make some mistakes, like smiling in the middle of a funeral because my colleague told a joke or showing involuntary annoyance when someone try to do a lot of small talk with me.
In what situations do you feel others' feelings? Can you give examples of when you wanted to improve the mood of others?
I am fickle in many aspects of my life, empathy is one of them, sometimes I have a lot and sometimes I don't have any. It really depends on my relationship with people and how much I like their personality. I'm very suspicious of other people's motives.
My father doesn't usually cry a lot and he's not manipulative at all. I suspect he's a Lse or sli, so when he cries I know it's real and it affects me, in other hand my mother is manipulative and when she starts crying I always think it's fake or that she deserves it (maybe she is a iei).
Section 6
How can you tell how much emotional space there is between yourself and others? How can you affect this space?
Complicated, I wouldn't say I'm completely blind to how others feel about me, but I'm definitely very pessimistic and because of that I like to be reassured about what my loved ones think about me.
I'm very suspicious of others and sometimes I start overthinking that everyone hates me or wants to hurt me. As soon as a friend has a more negative reaction, sometimes because of their own problems that have nothing to do with me, I get hurt or I start trying to guess what they are thinking about me and as you can imagine it's almost always negative. Although now I'm starting to try to be less negative because you never know what others are thinking or feeling.
How do you determine how much you like or dislike someone else? How does this affect your relationships?
By personality, values, way of seeing the world, I like people I identify whit and I can trust. People with character that I consider dubious I try to not interact.
I have a very small group because I have a set pattern, at the same time they are different obviously but what unites us is that we are all very open-minded and we don't like to meddle in other people's lives.
How do you move from a distant relationship to a close one? What are the distinguishing characteristics of a close relationship?
We start talking, I like what they are about and it's that simple. Sometimes it takes me 3 months to consider someone a friend, other times I only see the person 3 times and I already know I can trust them.
It has happened once that I stayed in a "friendship" because I wanted company at school, but I stopped seeing him as a friend and started seeing him as an acquaintance.
How do you know that you are a moral person? Where do you draw your morality from? Do you believe others should share your beliefs on what's moral? Why?
I am a moral person in my own criteria. There are people who follow the morality of religion, others follow the morality of a group... Some of them I consider wrong and stupid, but I just don't make friends with these people and it's as simple as that.
The only thing that everyone should do is to respect others because it made life easier for everyone and it's such a simple thing if everyone does it.
Someone you care about is acting distant to you. How do you know when this attitude is a reflection of your relationship?
I don't know, it depends on the situation.
But I try not to take it personally (don't mean that I don't take it, on the contrary but I try to suppress it). What I do is that I ask what happened or i leave them alone. I don't like is chasing after others so I've ended friendships without knowing why, the person just stops talking to me and I take that as a sign.
Section 7
How can you tell someone has the potential to be a successful person? What qualities make a successful person and why?
I would say that one of the things is to have the ability to always be ahead of others, to have that special touch that some people have.
Where would you start when looking for a new hobby? How do you find new opportunities and how do you choose which would be best?
I already have ideas of hobbys that I want to try, so I would look in my internal library and choose the one that I felt like doing. I like manual and simple activities (I'm not an artist) I've done canoeing and I don't hate extreme activities, but I don't think it's considered a hobby and I don't know if I would do it that often either.
How do you interpret the following statement: "Ideas don't need to be feasible in order to be worthwhile." Do you agree or disagree, and why?
Ideas have to start somewhere, at first they may not make sense, but then when more ideas come up and they are molded, they can become a possibility. Or maybe people just want to come up with crazy ideas and that's okay too.
Describe your thought process when relating the following ideas: swimming, chicken, sciences. Do you think that others would draw the same or different connections?
I didn't make any connection, unlike the guy I took this questionnaire from. I just read the sentences and nothing else.
How would you summarize the qualities that are essential to who you are? What kind of potential in you has yet to be actualized and why?
The part that I fear the most, having to describe myself even more with qualities (gives me the impression that I'm bragging). This is going to feel more like a list than a text, sorry for the disappointment. I'm faithful, I like to make people's lives easier (if they haven't done me wrong), I strive to do what I promised, I hate being in debt.
I definitely have to improve my charisma and try to get along with new people more until I get used to it and don't get so bored.
Section 8
How do people change? Can you describe how various events change people? Can others see those changes?
Everything changes people, the personality you have today was the result of all the moments of your life and also of your brain (parts more or less developed and this also affects).
We're always changing every day, it's just that we're so used to the changes that sometimes we don't even notice it.
Sometimes I go through a similar situation that has happened before and I see how much I have changed in the way I deal with the problem.
How do you feel and experience time? Can time be wasted? How?
I think time is the most powerfyl weapon, you learn to deal with things with time, time brings peace but also chaos, time makes life evolve both positively and negatively, time kills you but also brings life. Time is truly the most important thing there is, when a certain moment passes you can no longer go back and fix things.
It all depends on the point of view, today you can consider it something important but later you see that it was a waste of time, the important thing to keep in mind is to think about the future because what has already happened cannot be changed.

• Don't typify me according to clichés, thank you.

Is there anything that cannot be described with words? What is it? If so, how can we understand what it is if language does not work?
Language is limiting, you can indulge feelings in others through sentences but you are never sure how others will interpret it.
I would say feelings and experience is one of the things, you have to go through them and let others go through too.
How do you anticipate events unfolding? How can you observe such unfoldments in your environment?
I don't really know, I think from what has already happened, from the people involved, from myself.
I sometimes tend to try to predict things and I like to be prepared for all eventualities because it makes me feel safer, but I also know that predictions are not 100% certain. I've missed opportunities because of this.
In what situations is timing important? How do you know the time is right to act? How do you feel about waiting for the right moment ?
It depends on when I've decided it's time to act.
I'll use the example of my driver's license, I started getting my license 1 year before the end of school but then I decided to finish school first to focus on my license after (also out of laziness I admit). My parents bothered me a lot because I needed to get the license but I only did it when I saw that I needed it to work and I couldn't leave it for later anymore (can expire). It was a bad choice, but I needed a reason to have motivation.
I finally finished this, I couldn't take it anymore. Thank you for reading this far ;)