Weatherby left hand

I (35F) and my partner (40M) have been together for three years. We generally have a good relationship, but recently we had a disagreement that has left me wondering if I’m the asshole.
Last weekend, my partner made plans with his friends to go on a weekend getaway without consulting me first. He knows that I value spending time together on weekends, especially since we both have demanding jobs and our schedules often conflict during the week. I felt hurt and frustrated that he didn’t think to discuss his plans with me before committing to them.
When he told me about the trip, I couldn’t hide my disappointment and ended up getting angry. I accused him of not considering my feelings or our relationship when making plans. He argued that He should be able to spend time with her friends without always having to check in with me first.
Things escalated, and we ended up having a heated argument. He accused me of being controlling and suffocating, while I accused Him of being inconsiderate and dismissive of our relationship. It was a tense and unpleasant exchange, and we both ended up feeling hurt and upset.
Now, I’m left wondering if I overreacted and if I’m the asshole in this situation. On one hand, I understand that He should have the freedom to make plans with his friends independently. On the other hand, I feel like it’s disrespectful to our relationship to make significant plans without discussing them with me first.
AITAH for getting angry at my partner for making plans without consulting me?

I contemplated sharing all of these since the first two happened so long ago, but they’re eerie enough that I think that they should be shared. I have two stories from when I was young, when I was around age 5-6. Though they were over 20 years ago, the first one I remember vividly and the other occurred later yet I can’t recall that one much at all. However, my mom tells that story like it was yesterday so I’m pretty sure my brain blocked it out or something.
So for context, my mom had me when she was 20 and was a single parent for a while. My father was completely out of the picture, so we lived with her childhood best friend in different apartments when I was young. So one night, it was dark but not extremely late (like 7-8) and I was coloring in the kitchen while my mom was in another room. I vividly remember a knock coming from the sliding glass door only a few feet away from where I was. I turned to see a middle aged man with a sinister smile, pointing at the handle to let him in. I immediately screamed, which scared this guy off, and my mom ran in and called the cops. My mom later told me he was peeping at my her and her best friend for a while but this was the first time I had seen him and that he attempted to come in. Apparently he had left… evidence that he was there a couple of times but I don’t think the cops ever got him. But the rest of the time we lived there, my mom had security from her job (House of Blues) sleep over a lot for protection.
The next encounter is one I don’t remember happening but the story still terrifies me because of what might be out there and how easily these things can happen. It was a different apartment, like a townhouse, but only a few blocks away from where the other thing happened. There was a couple that lived across the street and my mom always got very strange vibes from them. The man would openly stare at me (around age 6) and my mom’s best friend’s niece (who was 11) when she would stay over, which would prompt my mom to angrily yell at him for being creepy for staring at us the way he was, calling him a perv. My mom’s best friend thought she was being paranoid but then at some point, I was playing outside, and that same man lured me over into his apartment with his dog. It didn’t take long for my mom to notice I was gone… it wasn’t even 10 minutes before she ran over to come get me. The couple acted like nothing was wrong and that I just wanted to see their dog but she freaked out on them. When we were home, I told her that he took pictures of me with their dog and she called the cops. They were kicked out but the pictures were never found… which creeps me the hell out to this very day.
The most recent creepy encounter was also with my mom but it was about 6 months ago. I’m still not sure if this was us being paranoid or if we were being followed but it felt wrong. We went to the mall looking for shoes for my wedding and started at Belk. My mom had to use the restroom so I went off on my own and while I was browsing, I got annoyed with this guy wearing a baseball hat because he seemed to be constantly in my way or hovering. It struck me as odd that he kept ending up around me in the women’s shoes section and I got annoyed with him quickly, shooting him a glare that seemed to back him off a bit. The aisles for shoes are short so I noticed him walking toward another man with a newsboy cap on the other side of the section with his arms crossed. I wouldn’t have thought much of it except the two spoke briefly before baseball cap guy made another round through the section. I’m not sure how to put it but they seemed out of place, like almost dirty or something, and I felt weirded out so I pulled out my phone to text my husband and pretended to look busy until my mom came back. She eyed the baseball cap guy lingering around but I felt much safer when she arrived, and I loudly complained a bit about the selection and “surroundings” so we headed somewhere else. We went into a bunch of different stores and when we were on the other side of the mall at an Earthbound (trendy hippie store if you’re unfamiliar), my mom made a loud comment how she kept seeing a guy in the same stores we were in. In the moment, even though I did have a strange feeling, I waved it off to keep browsing since I don’t go to the mall often and wanted to enjoy the day with my mom. She said she must be going crazy when I blew it off but the next store was when my mom’s suspicions grew into a serious full blown anxiety attack. I honestly was still oblivious to this guy but I saw how she was looking around a lot, had us weaving through people and quickly going down aisles. Like I said, I still wasn’t paying attention to the people around us so I bought a couple of things but as soon as I had my bags, my mom yanked me and rushed us out. While we were walking, she grew serious, kept glancing behind us and told me how she didn’t feel right about this guy with a newsboy cap and thought we were being followed. I took a look back for myself and sure enough, the man she described, and I finally recognized him as the same guy I briefly saw in Belk an hour or so ago, just left the same store we did and was walking toward us. He was by himself, looking down, carrying no shopping bags. We ducked into the first store we came across and the employees picked up on our frantic and nervous energy. When asked if we were okay, we told them what was going on and they stood in front of us, hiding us from view and assured us that we were safe. We didn’t see him (or the other guy with the baseball cap) after that but it spooked us to the point where we couldn’t even enjoy our day out anymore so we went home.
This same mall is known to be unsafe and honestly, this whole city is rampant with human trafficking so even though it could have been just paranoia, we anticipated the worst. Interestingly enough, this same mall recently posted a policy that visitors under 18 need to be accompanied by an adult after 4pm on Friday and Saturdays along with safety guidelines on how to stay safe. So there’s that.
Stay alert and aware of your surroundings. Trust your gut. I don’t walk alone without my phone in my hand, and I call someone anytime I’m in a parking lot or gas station. It’s sad but it’s always been hard to ever feel safe when I’m alone.

heyo :) Didn't think I could, but I scripted an entire episode :D I like it - hope you too ^{^} Enjoy :)
(this episode is set in season 2 and based on theories and assumptions - and also starring some OCs XD for this episode, the entourage of Vincent Thorpe aka his bodyguards Cedric and Barnes and butler Davis)
Scene: Weathervane. Lucas is working behind the counter when he notices a lot of traffic noise. He looks out the side window front and sees a queue of cars heading for Nevermore. He sighs tristly, and turns back to his work with a somber expression.
Cut to the courtyard of the school. The group is already seated at their table – around them, the long ones for parent day are already being arranged.
Wednesday: I didn’t think they’d do another parent day so soon.
Enid: Well, they probably think the students can use seeing their families right now.
Bianca: (gloomy, not looking up from her phone) Most of them for sure.
Xavier: (looks at her, compationaletly) Is your mother coming?
Bianca: (coldly) I guess I really misjudged her. (her face twitches a little, as if she was holding back tears to some degree)
Xavier: (looks at her for another moment) Well… I can keep you company for sure today, since dad won’t show up. He didn’t even bother with a text this time.
Bianca: (looking up from her phone) That’s weird.
Xavier: (shrugs) I guess he decided I’m old enough now to know how things go. (he chuckles snidely) But I guess he really does have an appointment … maybe business partners, maybe some... pretty company. Who knows. (snorts) Do you know the difference between the two?
Ajax: (cringes) Please no.
Wednesday: (not looking up from her book) The pretty company have limits what they do for money.
The table takes a moment, then breaks down in giggles. Wednesday smiles a little.
Xavier: (smirks, points at her, approving this punchline) Hm. It’s actually their outfits when they try to get on his lab.
They chuckle a little again.
Xavier: (sighs) He’d rather have someone else sitting on his that place his own behind on a bench at this stupid school for sure.
Bianca: (warningly) Xavier.
Xavier: (angrily) What? It’s true! Anything’s more important that his useless son’s dumb parent day.
A voice behind him: Oh, I would never put it this way, dear boy.
Xavier freezes. He slowly turns around to where the others are looking. His father is standing at a gateway nearby, flanked by two bodyguards, smiling at him.
Xavier: What…?
Vincent: My son.
He gets up and walks over to the trio, bewildered. Around him, some other parents are eyeing his father, strangely concerned.
Xavier: Why are you here?
Vincent: (chuckles) Why, it’s parent day. I came to see you.
Xavier: (stuttering) Y-yeah, I … I guess … b-but…
Vincent wants to say something more, but his phone rings – it’s the overture of Swan Lake. He sighs and takes the call.
Vincent: (stepping away) Excuse me.
He leaves with one of his bodyguards. The other and Xavier stay behind as he walks away, looking after him until he’s far enough away and busy talking. Then they turn to each other, hugging briefly, but tightly.
Xavier: Ced!
Cedric: (chuckles) How are you slugger.
Xavier: (smiles, pats his back as he lets go) Pretty good, I suppose.
Cedric: (turning to their table) Is this the new crowd?
Xavier: Yeah, erm – that’s Enid (she waves), Eugene (waves too) and Wednesday (doesn’t move, just stares at him).
Cedric: Yes, let’s see – (pointing at them) the nice new roommate, and Ajax’ girlfriend, and (chuckles) Addams, of course.
Xavier: (rolls his eyes) Come on now.
Cedric: What? I know who she is.
Wednesday: Does he talk about other things currently?
Cedric: (shrugs) You know how boys his age are.
Xavier: (groans) Why?
Cedric: Still not saying anything. You won’t be this lucky with your dad.
Xavier: (looks at him, concerned) … I’m in trouble, right?
Cedric: (sighs) You think?
Bianca: This isn’t our fault, if he asks. We try to keep him out of it.
Wednesday: It’s true.
The others nod. Xavier rolls his eyes.
Cedric: I figured that, don’t worry. (smiles at them)
Him and Xavier exchange a look, Cedric shaking his head at him a little, but his expression remains gentle.
Xavier: (shurgs) Boys my age do dumb things, right? Who would hold that against me?
Vincent: (calls from the hallway) Xavier!
Cedric: (looks over at him, then back at Xavier) You know who.
Xavier sighs, then walks over to his father with Cedric. Before he can say anything however, Vincent interrupts.
Vincent: I’d like to see your new art.
Xavier: (sighs) Sure.
They walk away.
The group looks on. Enid leans over to Bianca and Ajax.
Enid: It’s bad, right?
They nod slowly.
Esther Sinclair: (calling from nearby) Enid!
Enid: (sighs)
Thing: (pats her hand)
Esther: (walks into the courtyard, smiling) There’s my little she-wolf!
Enid: (gets up, smiling – Ajax follows her)
Gomez: (coming in next to her) We must have the same daughter. (to Wednesday) Mia lupita!
Wednesday: (smiles a little as her parents and Pugsley enter the courtyard, and gets up to greet them as well)
Esther hugs Enid tightly. She eyes Ajax as he greets Enid’s father Murray, shaking his hand. Ajax turns to her as well as Enid hugs her dad – she smiles, but before he can say anything, his phone buzzes.
Ajax: Oh, my moms will be at the parking lot in a minute. (he kisses Enid on the cheek and walks off) Excuse me. Was a pleasure to meet you. (nods to them) Ma'am. Sir.
Enid’s parents smile at him, but Esther’s drops very quickly after he’s left.
Eugene: (sighs, turns to Bianca, who’s looking at her phone tristly) You wanna get another coffee from the cafeteria before the big storms?
Bianca: (sighs) Why not. Maybe it’ll be bitter enough today to give us a proper gastritis. Or just make us sick. We could use that, right?
They chuckle a little, then get up to leave.

Always wanted to post this but the official AITA thread was always too intimidating so here I am. I'll try not to ramble too much but buckle up as this spans several years.
I met my BFF on an online video game when I was 14. Back then, people were rather harsh to girl gamers but he always stood up for me which caused us to grow closer. Let's call this friend B and he was a year older than me.
B and I grew to be close friends as we grew. He helped me through some really bad mental spots and I did my best for him in return despite our distance. When I was about 17, B got engaged to his GF. His GF never really liked me and made him limit his time gaming with me. This resulted in me realizing my feelings for him. I decided to tell him said feelings as we never really hid things from each other. I told him that I didn't expect him to like me back since he was engaged and that I just wanted to get it off my chest. He thanked me for not hiding it and we carried on like nothing happened. Eventually, B's engagement fell apart but we still remained as friends and nothing more. I was content with this.
At some point, I decided to move in with my ex gf and drove 20 hours with my brother to do so. I quickly regreted this as it was hell on earth. My ex would always threaten to commit unalive whenever I hinted at breaking up.
I vented to B about this one night, admitting I was at my wits end. He knew I had been trying to break up with her for a while. Suddenly, B confessed that he loved me. I was taken aback as it had been almost 4 years since my confession and we never discussed it since. I asked if he was serious and if he meant it as a friend and he said no. He meant romantically. I was over the moon. My heart felt so light. This gave me the push to finally break up with my gf and to have the police on speed dial if something happened. Thankfully, she just cried and left and her grandparents came to get her stuff.
We were 6 months into our lease at this point so my brother and I had to plan what to do next. I asked if he wanted to move to the state B lived in since neither of us wanted to turn tail and run home. He agreed. Its important to note that B and I were not dating at this point. We were being flirty but that's about it. Once we decided to move to B's state I asked him about being official and he said once we moved in together. Again, I was excited.
6 months later and we made the drive to our new apartment with B. Things were great for the first month and B was being affectionate and sweet. I was happy.
Here's where shit hits the fan:
I learned that another online friend of mine had become homeless. Let's call her S. I had only know S for a few years at this point but I was both a bleeding heart and a people pleaser so I asked them if they wanted to move in with us and share my room. She agreed. Prior to her moving in, I had her join us for some online gaming so everyone could get to know each other prior to moving in. B and S really got along but B is really good about getting along with people so I wasn't surprised. They even began to play games without me which was fine as I trusted B.
When I got home from picking up S from the airport, I saw B sleeping on the couch. I was confused and he had left her a hand written note saying stuff about how it had been a long day so he was giving up his bed for her for tonight. I thought it was sweet and left it alone.
I'll take this time to mention that we didn't have a room for S. I offered to share my room or give her the master closet. I know that sounds bad but it was big enough to fit a twin size bed in there and some. We were all early 20s and S really wanted somewhere to live so it was all we could do. Before moving in, S had actually AGREED to the closet idea so she could have her own space.
Not long after S moved in, I noticed a lot of B's attention focused on her. I was a bit hurt but said nothing. Not long later, they began sharing a room as S claimed she never agreed to the closet deal. Being the people pleaser I was, I let it go. I was in denial. B wouldn't hurt me and he still gave kisses goodbye when he left. I thought it was all fine.
That was until B's cat batted an empty box of condoms out into the hallway from B's room.
B and I never had sex. We had never even discussed it. He was a bit religious so I never brought it up. This broke me. My head finally put 2 and 2 together. I broke down. I went into B's room and destroyed 10 years worth of crafts I made for him and left the pieces on the floor. My brother did his best to console me until they got home. I demanded to know what was going on and B admitted to lying about loving me. My heart broke. I sobbed, begging to know why and he said it was to get me to break up with my ex faster. I loved this man for so long and he hurt me like this? I was inconsolable. Living there was hell after that. Little issues turned into big fights with S backing up B and my brother backing me up. Eventually, my brother forfeited his half of the deposit so we could get off the lease and move. We couldn't move far but I had to get away from him. My friends were gone.
A few months after we moved out, B contacted me, apologizing for what he did and how he acted after we found out. This contact was in the form of a hand written note inside a sketch book I had left that he dropped off at my work. He wanted to hang out and I said fine. "Offer to buy me food and I'll be there." Money was tight at the time so I wanted compensation.
Every time after that, they would buy me something to eat when we hung out. I could never get the disgust out of my mouth from being around them. Oh, and S never apologized for what she did. She knew we were dating or at least that I THOUGHT we were dating but she still went for him and never told me what was going on.
Right before the pandemic closed the world down, I moved back home. I had totaled my car and just couldn't afford to live there anymore. Once home, B asked to play games online like the good ole days. I tried but I was at my breaking point as a people pleaser and just didn't care anymore. After a couple of sessions, I told him that I couldn't do this anymore as my trust was completely gone. I told him while I accepted his apology, I didn't forgive him. He said ok. I left the voice chat and unfriended him. I haven't heard from him since.
Its been 4 years since then and it still hurts. He had been with me through my entire teenage and young adult years. What I find interesting is that when I tell this story to people, they call me a jerk. A lot of B's friends cut contact with me after it all happened too. They say he was really remorseful and that I should have given him a second chance. This incident caused me to lose all of my friends at the time, making 2020 even harder to get through. Was I wrong to drop my BFF over a lie?

OK so, new reader here and I just finished the golden age arc. (Pleeease no spoilers in comments).
The first and most obvious thing that needs to be said: my God, my fucking heart is broken. The delivery and magnitude of the tragedy in this story brought tears to my eyes. God fucking damn it. I find it difficult to even imagine an event more traumatizing than the Eclipse.
I’m writing this to solidify, in my head, what the hell is going on in this story, give myself some much needed therapy. There’s so many themes to choose from: trauma, betrayal, perseverance, betrayal, loyalty, betrayal. God bloody fuck Griffith!!! Damn it, it’s still raw!
Let’s start with him then. Never have I read a villain so masterfully written. And when I’m being honest here I feel this whole arc, a lot like the first infinity war movie, has been the villains tale. Everything comes back to him. Every major character beat has Griffith slithering his way under it somewhere. And the thing is, even though I knew what kind of manipulator he was I still found myself rooting for him at times throughout the story. Like his charm was even working on me.
I can’t help but see Tolkien in this. The theme of evil being its own undoing. Guts only left The Band so he could stand eye to eye with him. But then again it wasn’t his undoing, it was his fucking ascension! Ok, ok. Yes yes, he joined the Cenobites, I mean the God Hand. Power, pain, perversion. Hardly an ascension you’d celebrate with your family.
But here’s the rub. Griffith is the only character that has the over arching theme of the story so far satisfied. Indeed he is the very center of how that theme manifests for so many other characters. After all, when he does become king. He is the king of Longing. And longing is the thing that ties everything in the story so far together. The reaching for something to fill the void rent in everyone by the truth of brutality. Griffith is the symbolic representation of how we project, erroneously, our hopes for a fulfilled life, on the external. And he was of course all to willing to use the longing of others to satisfy his own, and in the process trample, murder, rape and devour all the instruments of his ascension. And ultimately, he succeeded.
I know I’m missing lots here, but like I said it’s still raw. And in testimony to the genius of this writing, before the dust settles, the only person I can fixate on, is him. By far the best lottery villain I have ever read. Griffith.

DC Next Proudly Presents:

THE NEW TITANS

In Shadow of Kestrel
Issue Nine: War Dove
Written by AdamantAce, GemlinTheGremlin & PatrollinTheMojave
Edited by Deadislandman1 and Voidkiller826
 
Next Issue > Coming Next Month
 
 
“Raven!”
Slade’s gruff voice pierced through the deafening, wave-like roars in Raven’s head, but the rage was too much to bear. Her hands sizzled as hellfire danced in her palms, her body readying for another attack. She locked eyes with a reptilian soldier, dismounting his simian steed and charging on foot, but as she lunged forwards to strike him, she watched a man fly into her path. Slade Wilson caught the young Titan’s hand and pushed, throwing Raven backwards.
“Come on, kid, snap out of it!” But as Slade’s words fell on deaf ears, he felt the familiar sting of a fist to his jaw, a crack echoing in his ears. He recoiled from the attack but powered through his injury and stood his ground. Sinking his heels into the ground, he locked eyes with the girl before him. Her face seemed contorted and uncanny, as if all of the rage she was feeling was pouring out of her. She groaned angrily as she thrusted her head downwards, her forehead making contact with Slade’s teeth, before pulling her head back up again in preparation for another attack.
Before she could make one, however, one of the lizardmen had almost reached the warring duo’s sides, and as he lunged forward with his long spear, he made contact with Raven’s side. A small rip formed in the side of Raven’s outfit, which seemed to only anger her further. However, it did seem to distract her enough; Mar’i fired off a single Starbolt which struck only the ground - a warning shot.
“Raven! Please!” the half-Tamaranean cried out. But the Raven she knew was buried under unfathomable amounts of fury; she ignored her teammate’s call and instead flew forwards and swung out at the reptiloid. The strike glowed with red flame, sending the creature skidding across the floor, barely conscious. Slade spotted a flash of something else on her face, as if she was finally able to fight back against the endless rage - pain, perhaps, or anguish. But in an instant, it was gone.
That flicker of something other than white-hot anger was enough for Slade.
He clutched his side as his still open wound began to ache, the bandages feeling wet with fresh blood. His jaw felt crooked, and as he gritted his teeth, it felt as though they sat differently atop each other. And yet, he clutched his staff tightly in one hand, and with the other he beckoned to Raven.
“Kid, you’re fighting it, I know you are!” Slade felt his mouth filling with blood rather than saliva.
Within a moment, Raven’s attention was locked on the white-haired man once again. She fired bolt after bolt of black and red flame, but Slade was still dextrous despite his pain. He dodged and dived, weaving through the fire, until he finally managed to make contact with his opponent. He drove his staff into her chest and pushed his weight against the weapon, forcing her backwards. She rose into the air, a black mist pouring from her arms and over her face, a large ghostly corvid taking her place. He felt the deathly cold shadow of the bird’s wing fall over him, his feet leaving the ground as she scooped him into the air.
He looked down at the ground far beneath him. A fall from this height would kill anyone, he thought, let alone someone beaten half to death.
Then, as a verdant bolt of energy struck it in the side, Raven’s Soul Self shrieked and the shadows retreated inwards. Slade felt himself falling through the air for a second, then two, before he felt his back collide with something soft and cushioned. As he looked up, he met the gaze of Conner, who soared to the ground in an instant, placing the snow-haired man on the ground and giving a swift nod.
Raven let out a pained, frustrated yell as she returned to the ground, aided by a grappling line expertly positioned by Tim, and in response, Conner jetted off towards the sound of her cries. Slade’s feet faltered beneath him, and he stumbled to keep his balance. His breathing was laboured and his vision was becoming fuzzy. It felt as though, he realised, all the blood loss and violence he had suffered over the past few hours were finally catching up to him. Was this what dying felt like?
“Slade!” shouted a voice, followed by the dulled drumming of hurried footsteps. Slade pulled his hand across his face to wipe away the mental haze and drops of blood. It was Don, sprinting towards him. When Slade felt Don clasp him by shoulders, he realized just how slowed he was by his injuries. “Plan?,” Slade coughed out.
“You’ve seen what she can do. I only see one way out of these without one of the kids getting hurt. I’d do it myself, but I’m out of practice and this is too important to leave to chance.” Don looked around anxiously, his face betraying that he had a lot on his mind. “I’m giving you the powers of a god.” Slade opened his mouth to ask a question, a million came to mind. He glanced across the battlefield. Through a blurry film, he saw Raven’s Soul Self bat Conner away with its wing. He careened into the trunk of a thick tree, uprooting it with a deep crunch. “Are you sure?,” Slade asked, breathless.
“I’m not losing another Titan.” Don squeezed his eyes shut. His grip on Slade tightened as pale, almost blinding light enveloped them. It felt warm. No, better than that: it felt peaceful. With his enhanced senses, Slade could hear his erratic heartbeat slow. Fleeting visions bubbled up in his mind, opening up his awareness beyond the wildest dreams of Project Veritas. He felt rivers of magical energy flowing through the air and earth. Each of them spiralled towards a depression. Towards Raven, he knew instinctively. Iridescent blue light spread outward from his shoulders. It washed over his body armor, bleaching the jet black panels until his entire body shone with radiance. The pain from wounds old and new faded, replaced by serenity - and power. Don opened his eyes again and sighed gently; a concoction and joy, relief, and quiet mourning.
“There,” Don remarked. Slade felt lighter, less angry, less burdened. He looked down at the iridescent light enveloping his body. Magical energy buzzed against the surface of his skin. “The powers of the Dove - officially yours.”
Slade sucked in a nervous breath. “Don…” Even rejuvenated, he was still lost for words.
“They’re yours now,” Don smiled weakly. “Now go earn them. There’s a Titan in dire need of our help.”
Conner floated out of the dense jungle, rubbing his forehead. “Is Slade glowing or do I have a concussion?”
Slade looked over at Raven. She seemed less erratic, her movements driven by her brain rather than her gut. Tim’s staff batted fiercely against her, each strike buffeting her back more and more, but it was clear to Slade that Raven was not any weaker physically - her mind, however, was another story.
Slade began marching towards her, the ache in his side dulled. “Raven. You’re strong. Fight this rage inside of you.” Raven glared at him, a spark of something in her eyes, as she swooped in towards him at top speed. As she neared him, however, Slade readied his staff, stretching it out in front of him. As the tip of the weapon struck Raven, a beam of white energy coursed through her, as if she had been struck by lightning, and her body was flung backwards across the dirt.
Slade danced a hand over his rifle, but something felt different. He pulled it into his hands and inspected it swiftly; nothing seemed out of order. Raven rose slowly from her supine position, snarling softly to herself. Her movements had slowed, the expression on her face becoming closer to horror than rage. She was doing it.
“You’re nearly there, kid,” Slade soothed, his words suddenly like butter. He watched Raven’s shoulders start to relax. “That’s it. Just fight this, Raven. You’re almost there.”
Despite her tremendous progress, Raven’s blistering fury won out once more, and she charged a large bolt of hellfire in her hands. Slade fiddled with his rifle and crossed his fingers. There was a standstill between the two. Slade analysed his rifle again; there was something different about the barrel, as if it had been swapped out for another similar model. The stock felt lighter, too, as if the weight had been–
Raven roared at him, swiping wildly with glowing fists, and in an instant Slade instinctively pulled the trigger.
What fired from the gun was not a silvery bullet, but a familiar glowing bolt of white light, cloud-like in appearance. As it struck Raven, she sucked in a deep breath, the energy engulfing her. Her face softened and her posture relaxed. Then she swung out for the man’s weakened side, his bandages poking through the aura of light. And yet, as he stayed steadfast, not even attempting to dodge the attack. Sparks flew from the point of contact. Slade just readied another shot and fired.
Her body swayed with the blow. Slade closed the gap between them and focused on the new warmth he felt, concentrating it into his staff as best he could. Then, as he held it out in front of him at arm’s length, he swiped at Raven and struck her in the side of the shoulder. Each blow seemed to be more effective than the last, but as Raven’s movements continued to slow, Slade held fire.
“You’re doing it, Raven,” Slade encouraged. He watched as the other Titans surrounded Raven, each of them ready for any further attacks. Everyone watched with bated breath as their teammate and friend thrashed and recoiled from the hit. Her breathing was rapid, although it felt closer to panic than unabashed fury. She clasped her hands over her head, groaning. Then, suddenly, she stopped.
Her face had softened completely, her jaw slack, and tears filled her vision. She looked up at Slade with a comfort in her eyes. The aura emanating from him was pervasive and contagious, and although she had felt lost in a sea of impossibly vast emotions, its warmth and comfort cut through. The anger was still there somewhat, the last remaining dregs still working its way out of her system, but the comfort, the peace that Slade was providing was the anchor for her to stabilise herself. She had only ever seen this kind of power when Don…
Raven’s eyes widened as she realised what that meant. She collapsed to her knees, suddenly feeling the bone-deep fatigue her rage had suppressed. Her teammates rushed in around her. Mar’i dropped to a knee by her side and put a hand on her shoulder. “It’s OK. You’re safe. Everyone’s OK.”
“Don I’m—” She wiped away a stream of tears, stumbling her way out of the emotional vortex she’d been sucked into. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened. I’ve lost control before, but never like this.”
Don looked older. Creases ran across his forehead and around his eyes. His smile hadn’t changed. “Raven, my brother and I got those powers when I was a kid. We didn’t ask for them. We weren’t ready for them. We didn’t know how to use them, let alone control them.” He laughed dryly, recalling Hank. “I don’t regret anything. Giving my powers to Slade is the best thing I’ve done with them in years. I know Hank would feel the same way.”
In the moment of silence that followed, Raven rose to her feet and pulled her cloak tightly around herself. She was still shaking. Tim’s eyes drifted from her to Slade. “Something’s gnawing at me. Kestrel’s powers are weakened in Skartaris. Don’s…” He coughed, “Slade’s powers are amplified. If this place is what affected you—”
Mar’i’s face flashed with recognition, “—your powers must be tied to the Lords of Order and Chaos!”
Tim furrowed his brow. “Maybe.” He hardly had time to consider further when a thundering crack tore open the sky. Two bolts of swirling energy - one red and one blue - met above them, forming a swirling portal at their vertex. The Titans readied their weapons, expecting the worst.
“It’s them.” Slade murmured, still put off by his uncanny awareness. Terataya and T’Charr descended from the sky, one wreathed in mist, the other, magma. The two elementals stopped a few feet above the ground, hovering.
Terataya was the first to speak. Even at a whisper, her voice reverberated through the air. “I don’t usually care for surprises, Don, but this was a pleasant one.” A thin smile appeared on her face.
“Slade Wilson.” Terataya’s neck turned at an unnatural angle to face him. “You wield the powers of Order with great skill. Who understands the dangers of unchecked War better than a soldier. Become my champion. Protect the balance.”
Slade took a step back, then glanced at Don.
“She’s right.” Don said, with only a hint of hesitation. “It took me years to use the powers like you used them today. You’re a natural.”
Slade looked at his hands, still gently pulsing with pale blue light. “Thanks.” He allowed himself a weak smile. “But no thanks.”
“What.” T’Charr’s voice boomed.
“It doesn’t take Zatanna to realize an old soldier like me makes a piss-poor Avatar of Peace. I fight for a living, and I’m not deluded enough to think that makes me good at anything but fighting. If you want someone who understands the need for balance, Don just sacrificed everything special about him for it.”
Don raised an eyebrow. “None taken.”
“His actions today were noble, but they do not make up for years spent squandering the gift.”
“Squandering? The Titans wouldn’t exist today if he hadn’t pulled them together. Everything they’ve done. Everything they’ve achieved for your balance wouldn’t have happened without him, including stopping that monster you made.”
“Watch your tone, mortal.” T’Charr threatened.
“There may be a vein of truth to his words, lover.” Terataya said. “But *if we were to restore Don Hall’s power, we would need assurances. His indecision led down this path.”*
Rocks ground against each other as T’Charr landed beside Don. “You would have weeks, not years, to select a counterpart and return to your duties.”
Don’s response was instantaneous. “I’ve made a decision.”
“You’ve decided if you’ll take up the mantle of Dove again?”
Don nodded. “And who should be the new Hawk.”
Terataya giggled. “Full of surprises today. T’Charr?”
“We should discuss this.” He said. “In private.”
The three of them vanished, leaving the Titans and Slade alone on a battlefield riddled with bits of dino meat and ape fur.
 
○○ Ⓣ ○○
 
“You don’t think they’re gonna come back in like, 200 years, right?” Conner asked. He sat beside the depowered Slade Wilson, who was downing aspirin to make up for the sudden deficit in peace energy.
“I don’t know.” Tim said. “But we should give them more than fifteen minutes.”
As if on cue, the skies opened again. Again, the chromatic energy lit the sky and again a portal opened its swirling maw. This time, however, it wasn’t two elemental Lords to descend. Raven squinted to make the figures out.
“Oh my god.” Conner said, having a far easier time with his super-vision.
“What? Who is it?” Tim asked.
“Donna!” Mar’i shouted. She shot off the ground towards her. Her black combat armor was replaced with a crimson and white bodysuit studded with stars that seemed to twinkle as the light shifted around her. The sword at her side was gone too, replaced with a coiled loop of rope suffused with the same brilliant energy. The two collided into an embrace, spinning through the air as they held each other tightly.
Don was the first to land, restored with the powers of Dove. He looked stronger than ever, and maybe more importantly, happier. Even Tim’s typical thoughtful brooding has been pierced by an unimpeachable joy.
“I don’t understand,.” Raven said. “S-She’s alive. How is this possible?”
“I knew there was only one person who could be trusted with the powers of War, with Hank’s abilities.” He scratched the back of his neck, a bit guilty. “And she’d been staring me in the face for years. It took some doing, but eventually T’Charr and Terataya saw that too.”
Donna landed beside him, Mar’i only a step behind. By now Conner had stepped forward. He tried not to choke over his words. “I’m sorry. If I’d—”
Donna didn’t let him get the words out before pulling him into a grapple-turned-hug that quickly grew as the rest of the team piled in. Slade flicked another aspirin into his mouth.
“Danyah!” A voice called out from over the ridge. It was Travis, mounted atop a fanged reptilian creature in the vague shape of a horse and flanked on either side by his gold-armored honor guard. He broke into a gallop, stopping just short of the Titans. “When I saw the skies, I feared the worst. Is it really you? Has sorcery brought you back to us?”
“It’s me, Travis. A Lord of Chaos brought me back.”
“Not to interrupt,.” Slade said, still nursing his wounds. “But did either of you ask them to bring us back to Chicago?”
“I…” Don grimaced. “Donna, how do we get home?”
“How did you get here? Surely you could return the way you came.” Travis said.
“No, we can’t.” Tim said, pressing a few buttons on his wrist’s holographic display. “Whatever magic pervades Skartaris is also causing some extreme time dilation. I can’t guarantee we’d return to the 21st century, or even to Earth.”
“I spent a decade in Skartaris and returned to Earth nearly two centuries later. It’s the influence of Chaos. We’d need a Skartaran mage of overwhelming power to stabilize our return.” She spat the word mage with disgust. Travis’s expression seemed to confirm the reputation of Skartaran spellcasters.
Before their anxiety could spiral, the sky above began to churn. Moments later, the ground shook as a violent bolt of lightning cleaved the air, striking with such ferocity that all but Conner and Donna were flung backward. Mar'i skidded across the damp undergrowth, her senses overwhelmed by the acrid scent of ozone. Her mind was racing; their victory was hard fought, and she doubted they had much left in the tank for another confrontation. She dug her hands into the ground and pushed herself up as she choked from the smell. The Warlord Morgan and his military guards snapped to attention, forming a protective ring around the crater that now marred the earth.
From the smoking pit, a figure rose, unfolding from a crouch like something out of Terminator. Adorned in a red and white jumpsuit that accentuated his lithe build, the young man's appearance was marked by a red cowl and goggles, with sandy brown hair rebelliously spilling out.
Conner squinted through the dissipating smoke, murmuring under his breath, “A speedster?” The Flashes had had a variety of different sidekicks and other allies over the years, but none of them recognised this one
With a nonchalant flair that seemed at odds with the charged atmosphere, the newcomer greeted them. “Hey, everyone chillax. I'm here to get you guys back home.”
Donna, ever the leader, stepped forward and spoke with a commanding curiosity, now emboldened with the war aura of Hawk. “And who are you exactly? Why should we trust you with such a claim?”
Flashing a cheeky grin, he tilted his head and responded, “Well, I’m a speedster for one. Name’s Impulse. If I run fast enough, then I can… well, I guess bend time.”
Behind Donna, the group exchanged sceptical glances. Raven's face remained shadowed by recovery, Mar'i and Conner braced for action, and Tim discretely checked his gadgets, no doubt for something that he could use on a speedster should the need arise.
“Yeah, we figured that much,” Don cut through the tension, his voice calm yet insistent. “Who sent you?”
Impulse chuckled, his demeanour remaining unfazed by their scrutiny. “Look, the details aren't the fun part. Trust me, I can get us back.”
As a silence thick with doubt and scepticism settled over the group, Impulse seemed to realise his casual assurances weren't sufficient. With a theatrical sigh, he reached up and removed his mask, revealing a face familiar to both Mar'i and Raven.
“Brody!?” Mar'i exclaimed, her surprise echoing through the clearing as she stared at the boy who had once hobbled through their college classes with his leg in a cast.
The young man’s grin widened, his eyes sparkling with mischief and a hint of pride. “Actually, it’s Bart.”
 
○○ Ⓣ ○○
 
When Slade emerged from the shower, his skin was glistening with moisture, the water tracing the contours of his scars. He wrapped a stark white towel around his waist, and crossed the plush carpet to sit on the edge of the hotel room bed. He released a slow, deep breath; it was a good job the speedster kid arrived when he did. The notion of being stranded in an alien land or, worse, a different time had gnawed at him with a ferocity that was hard to admit. Without Bart’s intervention, every one of Slade’s meticulously crafted plans would have been utterly dashed.
Facing him, a wall-mounted mirror caught his rugged reflection. Drawn to his own image, Slade studied the scars that mapped his trials, the slick white hair that crowned his head, and the deep lines etched into his face. A familiar discomfort nagged at him, focusing his attention on his right eye. Unable to alleviate the irritation through the skin, Slade exhaled heavily and carefully removed the eye altogether. The movement, fluid and practised, spoke of years of adaptation.
He placed the prosthetic gently on the bed beside him and as he massaged the socket, a decades-old habit, his mind wandered. He wasn't accustomed to keeping the prosthetic in for extended periods. Showering with it had been an uncomfortable experiment in necessity - he didn't like it, but understood the importance of maintaining the facade. The Slade he would have people believe he was would have never lost an eye, because that Slade had led a life far from by the darker paths Slade had truthfully trodden.
His thoughts wandered to his brief time wielding the potent powers of Dove, and Slade felt a twinge of regret at their loss. The clarity and strength those powers had provided were intoxicating, yet he recognised that he had a more important goal, one he couldn’t compromise. His current role demanded not the accumulation of power but the perfection of his deceit, ensuring that all believed he was not the Slade Wilson they knew, but a Reawakened, more innocent doppelganger.
Now, with the glass eye resting beside him, Slade stared at his unmasked visage. Maintaining the myth of the noble Slade was critical. The ruthless mercenary, the World’s Deadliest Killer - those identities had to remain buried. The Titans had believed him enough to entrust him with divine powers, their faith a testament to his performance, but the game was far from over; in fact, it was entering its most critical phase.
 
 
Next: Return to normality in The New Titans #10
 

Spoilers ahead…
Dear Karthik Subbaraj,
Congratulations on yet another interesting movie, and for resisting the impulse to name this one, too, after a food item. Iraivi is an unusual feminist film, in the sense that it’s seen entirely through the prism of sympathetic male characters. Your men aren’t monsters who drink or cheat on their wives or subject them to torture. They do these things, yes, but… differently. Arul (SJ Surya) drinks, but only to drown out his sense of failure – he’s a director and his film is in the cans, being held hostage by a sadistic producer. Michael (Vijay Sethupathi) has sex with Malarvizhi (Pooja Devariya), and he continues to lust after her after his marriage to Ponni (Anjali) – I love that all your women have names that suggest classical heroines, including Arul’s wife Yazhini (Kamalini Mukherjee) – but it’s a marriage he committed to in a hurry and he still hasn’t reconciled himself to it. He’s being a bastard, certainly, but he’s not a one-note villain. And the torture they inflict isn’t the stubbing-a-cigarette-into-the-wife’s-bare-arm variety. It’s more mental than physical.
So we get women who are collateral damage – and I include Arul’s comatose mother (Vadivukkarasi), and the nurse who’s not allowed to do her duty – of men being men. They’re being babies, really. Yazhini tells Arul that he should get on with his life, write another story, make another movie. He says it’s like her trying to have another child while still pregnant with their daughter. (Yes, all these men end up with girl children.) He’s a wallower – but maybe all artists are. You like to do that, don’t you Karthik? Even in a film like this, you deliver a commentary about filmmaking and the artist. Why, even Arul’s father is a sculptor, and though we never see him ill-treating his wife (thank you for sparing us the clichés of raised hands and raised voices), we’re informed that he’s responsible for her state. His son’s following the father’s footsteps. Maybe you’re trying to say that the wives of obsessed artists are doomed to become collateral damage. Your films make us think, Karthik, so thank you for that.
All your stories have at their centre a filmmaker, or at least (in the case of your first film, Pizza) a storyteller. And through them, we seem to hear your voice. “Works of art should not be in places where they are not respected.” “Namma padam pesanum, naama pesa koodadhu.” You compare masala movies to a massage with a happy ending. (I laughed, but please don’t judge me when I say I rather like massages with happy endings – I refer to masala movies, of course.) We even get a line of dialogue about Dolby Atmos. (What will the B/C-centre audience make of this, Karthik? But then you don’t really give a shit, do you? More power to you.) And you like your insider jokes. That crass, egoistic producer who does not care about art – he reminded me of the crass producer from your earlier film, Jigarthanda. You like Rajinikanth too. You referenced Thillu Mullu in Pizza, Thalapathi in Jigarthanda, and now you have Arul singing Malayala karayoram, Michael singing Oorai therinjikitten.
Or is that more of an Ilayaraja homage? You like to keep the audience guessing, right? When the Bobby Simha character in Jigarthanda said he was a Shankar-Ganesh fan, it appeared that you were mocking the endless Ilayaraja nods in Tamil cinema, but here you are, doffing your hat to the maestro. “Raja Raja dhaan.” Arul says this… twice. (By the way, which is that nightclub which plays Maanguyile poonguyile? Do let us know.) And the reuse of Unnai thaane – first in a scene between Michael and Malarvizhi; later in a scene between Michael and Ponni – is the kind of Easter egg we come to your films for. Let me list some others, though I’ll probably need to watch the film a second (or third) time to get them all. The name of the bachelors’ quarters is Ambal Mansion – it goes with your theme and title. I didn’t get the bit about the windmills (something connected to the gust of wind that makes the row of cycles fall over in the first scene?), or why you showcased the book of Shanta Shishunala Sharif’s poems. (I confess. I Googled up that name. I can’t remember the last time a Tamil film made me Google something up. Madras, maybe.) And despite your note at the beginning that Iraivi is inspired by the works of K Balachander (he made female-centric films, but I don’t know if I’d call them feminist films), this is really more of an ode to Mani Ratnam, isn’t it? Specifically, Aayidha Ezhuthu. The three men, one of them – the impulsive one – named Michael. The film starting out as Arul’s story, then becoming Michael’s story, and finally Jagan’s (Bobby Simha) story. The finale with the woman on the train. Plus, the arc of the Madhavan-Meera Jasmine plot was essentially about being easily misled (in the case of the man) and becoming collateral damage (in the case of the woman.) And yes, the rain. All that rain. As though the skies were weeping for these women.
Am I digressing, Karthik? If I am, I’m just following your style, which is the opposite of simple and linear. As a result, I find your films longer than they need to be. (You may feel the same about my reviews.) For instance, I did not care for the scene in the nightclub where a director is felicitated. I realise it was there as a last straw for Yazhini, but it felt redundant. But I suppose they couldn’t be any other way, because you like these shaggy-dog stories that you then embellish with novelistic detail. I love the way you introduce your characters, the time you take with them. Our films lay out characters and their relationship to each other the minute we set eyes on them, but you make us wait to know how Arul is related to Jagan and where Michael fits in and so on. And when it appeared that a semblance of a plot was kicking in (something about Arul needing money to buy back his film), I dug out my phone and checked: it was a whole hour into the movie. Borrowing an image from Malarvizhi’s profession (oh wait, she’s an artist too; she’s literally an artist), it’s like daubs of paint slowly forming a bigger picture.
And you really like an expansive canvas. Not only does the crass producer have a brother, you also bring in his wife later on, to conclude a deal he began making. These segments practically form a mini-movie, with another woman left reeling by the actions of her man. Your films have this… density. They’re packed – with characters, with complications, with information doled out in bits and pieces. (A character says, “Un kitta onnu sollanum.” And instead of hearing what he has to say, we cut to someone else.) Take the scene where Michael asks Arul for money he is owed. You just need to get Michael to Arul’s antiques shop, so the next part of the plot can be staged. Arul could have told Michael to collect the money at the shop. Instead, this is what we get. Arul tells Michael to wait for a week, when he can get the 50 lakhs he is owed. Michael says he wants only 10 lakhs. Arul says he has only 8 lakhs, he’ll give the remainder later. Michael goes to Arul’s father, in the hospital. He has only 5 lakhs. And he directs Michael to the shop, to get the remaining 3 lakhs. Your signature intercutting adds to this texture, Karthik. Shots of Michael and Arul’s father in the hospital are intercut with shots of Arul hunting for booze. Shots of Michael and Jagan outside a courtroom are intercut with shots of Arul being consoled by his father. Happenings are stretched and meshed the way they would be in real life, and not compacted according to the page-per-minute requirement of screenplay-writing textbooks.
I could never predict where the film was going (win!), what these people were going to do (again, win!) –though I must admit I found this to be the weakest of your “twists.” The subplot about stealing sculptures, too, I found rather conceit-y, something half-heartedly cooked up to fit with the title and the theme, rather than something plausible, something these people would do. When Michael, here, commits murder, with a hammer, I went, “This mild-mannered chap? Really?” But then, even in Jigarthanda, I wasn’t quite convinced that the characters would do the things they did. They seemed to be puppets of a screenplay rather than credible human beings, whose actions evolve organically from who they are (or at least, who they seem to be).
But even if I am not convinced by the overall trajectory of your characters, I love how fleshed-out they are on a moment-to-moment basis. I loved the scene where Arul barges into Yazhini’s house, after their separation, on the day of her engagement to someone else. In a lesser film, she would have asked him to get out, and he’d have dug his heels in, and she’d have cooled down and… But here, she rushes straight into his arms. And you make us see why. She was frustrated, fed up with him. But she’s also confused. Was she hasty in abandoning this man? Should she move on with another man? Does she even need a man? With just this one scene, you’ve compensated for the underwritten heroine of Jigarthanda. The story arc may be Arul’s, but Yazhini registers as a fully formed character. Similarly, Michael’s arc allows for the delineation of Ponni and Malarvizhi, and through Jagan, we get glimpses of his mother, and possibly of all womanhood as viewed by a compassionate man. And then you say that women don’t need even this compassionate man (poor chap!), that they have to emancipate themselves instead of looking for a penis-wielding emancipator. What delicious irony, given that you begin the film with women talking about marriage, tying themselves to a man!
Or not, in the case of Malarvizhi, who is easily the film’s most interesting character. Her husband is dead, and she doesn’t want love anymore – only sex. When Michael buys her a diamond necklace, she gives it back to him – she can buy her own trinkets, thank you very much. But the character feels shoe-horned into the film, Karthik. I felt betrayed – and I bet she did too – that after a point, she was used simply as a plot device to get Michael and Ponni together, and also to illustrate Michael’s (who is now standing in for all of mankind) hypocrisy. I felt she deserved more. And yet, I appreciated your generosity in fleshing her out like all the others, without judging her. She gets to be the rare woman in Tamil cinema who dumps the man, and the way she lets go of Michael is echoed in the way Arul lets go of Yazhini, with a heavy heart and some playacting. A side effect of the Malarvizhi subplot is the reassurance that Vijay Sethupathi is still interested in making cinema, rather than just massy entertainers targeted at the box office.
Ponni gets a better deal (and Anjali is terrific, raw and expressive in a way she has never been). In a great scene – rather, a set of book-ending scenes – Michael tells Ponni that he was forced to marry her, and she’s going to have to “adjust” to this if she wants to be with him. Much later, she throws the “adjust” word back on his bearded face when he asks her if she slept with someone else. In a different kind of movie, we’d be invited to see this symmetry, stand up and applaud. But you’re too subtle for that, Karthik. Iraivi is your subtlest film. Which is why I winced at the melodramatic lines about men and women, most of which came towards the end. Aan, using the long-sounding vowel, versus penn, with the shorter one – for such a visual filmmaker (this is another outstandingly shot film, less showy than Jigarthanda and probably richer for that), do you really need the crutch of linguistic special effects from another era of filmmaking? Also, when the rest of your film is so allusive, isn’t there another way you can explain the twist without having a character resort to such an inelegant information dump?
And why is it that your films come together more in the head than in the heart? Why are they easier to admire than love wholeheartedly? I used to think it was because your characters are essentially deceitful, self-serving and unsympathetic, so though we were invested in what they did, we didn’t really warm up to them. But here, you have Ponni and Yazhini and Malarvizhi – and they’re still remote. But perhaps this is bound to happen when there are so many people, so many strands, when we don’t follow one person’s simplistic “you go, girl” journey like we do in, say, 36 Vayadhinile? But when the parts are so well-crafted, we don’t complain as much about their sum not adding up to a satisfying whole. I am sure that you will, one day, make that wholly satisfying film, but for now, thank you for these parts. Thank you for the ambition. I felt there were too many songs (some good work by Santhosh Narayanan), but thank you for ensuring that they don’t break character, the way songs usually do when a character speaking in his or her voice suddenly segues into the playback singer’s voice. Thank you for giving us SJ Surya, the actor – I never dreamed he had such a capacity to hold a scene, to hold the screen. Thank you for continuing not to sell out. Thank you for trying to do so much, even if not all of it needed to have been tried. And thank you for making me fight with myself, for not making it easy to decide if you’ve made a “good” film or a merely “okay” film. For now, Iraivi is a fascinating film, and that’s enough.
Sincerely, etc.

So... My history with this saga is weird. My first Fallout game was Shelter, because it was free, and I really liked it. Later, when Fallout 4 became one of the free PS Plus games on PS5 launch, I got my hands on it and played, but I wasn't as far as Diamond City when I got bored and left it.
I then came out as a trans woman, and since a lot of people said New Vegas was stereotypically a trans people game, I bought it on a Steam sale. Also got bored about halfway through (I think my last save was just at the door of New Vegas), and left it.
Then about two or three years later, the tv series comes out, I watch the first few episodes and love every second of it. I quickly get interested into playing the games again and get Fallout 4 on PS without plus, I give it another try, and play it a lot (actually played today), I also finish the series (Loved it), and I'm so happy to enjoy the saga on this second try! There's a problem though...
To know more lore, I watched some summaries of the first two games, and can't stop watching every other video about the saga, and suddenly, I keep getting other recommended videos and content about fans complaining about the games. But OMG it's like seeing Star Wars fans (again, no offense, I'm getting there); some people complain about how insufferable 1 and 2 are and praising 3, NV, and 4; others hate on 3 and 4 and talk about how Bethesda doesn't get what Fallout is about and praise NV because 3 and 4 "don't feel like Fallout games"; others hate on NV because "it doesn't feel like a Fallout game"; everyone hates on 76, everyone loves the series, and everyone praises Frank Horrigan.
I mean, I don't know what is real anymore. Of course, I can and will enjoy the saga as I please, but I keep thinking about this and can't help but see all the flaws on Fallout 4 now. I still like it, yes, but it makes me feel confused. What even *is* Fallout now? What does it mean?
I guess I just got more curious about trying 3, and more enthusiastic about trying NV again and see if I like it. I guess three years ago I didn't even know what Fallout was about (again, Shelter was my first game of the saga), hence why I got bored. I may try later the first two games, but idk. I guess I also got more critical about the saga (which I also enjoy). Damn it's weird being a Fallout fan...
Anyways... What do you think about this? I'd love to discuss it with anyone in comments or DMs. Also looking for friends who are into Fallout so feel free to hit me there! (Even if I just ranted about your favorite game saga.)

So yesterday I had my bike stolen during a test ride. Usually I'm super cautious about who I even let see my bike, let alone test ride, but even still I got caught out.
The guy looked normal, and acted like he was legitimately interested in the bike. We spoke for a while before he asked for whether he could go for a test ride. I said okay, but I'll need your license. He then handed me his wallet, house keys, phone & hat.
He then asked for some directions on where he could take the bike, which I gave. Stupidly I didn't check his license thoroughly until after he'd left, and realized not long after that he had given me a fake.
As soon as I saw, I figured I wouldn't be seeing the bike again. I gave it 5 minutes and then reported it to the cops. I got a call a few hours later that he had crashed the bike into a car and had fled the scene. The cops were good about the situation, but still haven't found the guy.
But learn from my mistake - don't let someone test ride your bike unless you're absolutely comfortable they're legitimate. Check their license is actually them, and not a fake. Check whether they drove themselves, or were dropped off, and if they were dropped off do not let them ride the bike. And if you want to be absolutely sure, take a cash deposit before letting them ride the bike.
Anyway, you live and you learn.

Chapter 1: the event
It was the fall of my intern year as I bean my off service trauma rotation. This month was ubiquitously notorious for being the most labor intrusive and least productive rotaion of our emergency medicine program. Knowing this I entered with the intention of simply surviving the month.
Another intern and I let’s call them A for sake of ambiguity, we’re the first emergency medicine residents to roste on the trauma services that year. A shaky start would be an understatement. In the words of chance the raper “like my grama with the Parkinson’s playing operation.” Would better describe it. Medically we did well. We were very competent and completed our work daily, but communication and coordination was non existent. Our Cheifs had informed us that Tuesday was our day of and the Trauma cheif residents had minimum communication with us, or our Cheifs as it seams when A and I did not report on Tuesday they sternly made their dissatisfaction known.
I have struggled with insomnia sense the age of 10. Had 2 sleep studies by this point in my life and been prescribed nearly every sleeping aid on the market. The 80-94 hr work weeks of our trauma rotaion only worsened my insomnia. My lack of sleep likely contributed to a less than prime adaptive immune system and 2 days out of my trauma rotaion I contracted strep like symptoms with associated nausea, requiring me to call for a sick day the next day. No the first day that I felt too ill to work. I was not fully aware of the reporting process. I reported to my Chiefs, but I did not believe I could come to work tomorrow with amble time and notice, however I was somewhat delayed in letting their Cheifs know, because the surgical chiefs rotated every few days and I did not know who my was going to be the next day. The second day which I had to call out sick I was able to locate the cheif for the next day and reprot according to our university’s protocol, which requires that if a resident feels they are not fit for work they must not come in and the university must have staff coverage without any fear or implementation of punitive actions.
I had finally survived to the last week of my trauma rotaion and I could see the light at the end of the tunnel. What I could not see was the pile of stress, shitty diet, lack of mental well ness and sleep deprivation which I was pushing down to reach the light. By this time I had seen a psychiatrist regularly for sleep medication. I had mentioned to him that I had been experiencing more stressed lately and feel that I might be depressed. he reassured me that it was likely only due to my circumstances, given the difficulty of the trauma rotation and wish to reassess once the rotation was over. Looking back I had to fill the habit of drinking more than I usually do. My only on nights before I have days off became 1-2 beers every other night. All of this repressed unhealthy shit finally pushed bad on September 23rd. That night I was at work even later than usual, I stayed up later than usual and couldn’t seem to fall asleep. With the stress of only having minimal sleep and knowing I only had 2 more days of trauma left, I took an extra dose of my sleeping medication.
I opened my eyes to the fighting sight of sun beaming in my window and I instantly knew I was late. (Sense I hadn’t seen the sun in a month) . Due to my need for scrupulous sleep hygiene I have been sleeping with my phone of and away for me. I rushed to grab it and watched as the little Apple logo seamed to glow on the screen for an eternity. Then in conjunction with its fading I saw 3 missed calls from my director, a text from college A and 2 missed calls from the surgical director. Still, I was able to calm myself, knowing that resident A had been late to this rotation by a few hours 2 other days and nothing came of it. I called my director back and he asked me to report to his office where I was greeted by my director, my coordinator and another emergency medicine facility.
With the only explanation of: “we just want you to get better”, I was handed a letter, to my relief it did not entail my termination, but a declaration of administrative leave and a requirement to undergo an evaluation at a well known university in Florida.
Lake any other savvy millennial, I did my research. By research I mean numerous google searches and screeches thru the depts of redit. To my dismay I discovered that in order for a residency program to fire you, they must first initiate an administrative suspension. I would soon find out however, being terminated would have been a delightful outcome compared to what ensued.
I spend the next few weeks in the wallos of regret and depression. I indulged in higher qualities of alchohol then I ever have before. I all but ceased communing with peers, and abruptly stoped any physical activity I had once enjoyed. Frightened as I was I was ensured, it will be ok “we just want you to get better”
Chapter 2 The evaluation : guilty until proven innocent I did exactly as instructed and scheduled an evaluation, I supposed that this was either a mental evaluation to assess if I’m fit for work with plans of termination or it actually was an evaluation to better treat my insomnia. To this day I regret my ignorance, and wish I had researched the process more. The Hindi / sand-skrt idea of Hamsa 🪬 is that in order to do any good you must have full knowledge or else good intentions can result in harm. I truely believe my director had good intentions, however but him and I did not have full knowledge of the nature of this evaluation.
Looking back see how easily I could have avoided my troubles by asserting legal aid at this point or even by researching this evaluation process more in depth. If one searches impaired practitioner program which I now know this evaluator works for, the search entire will populate 5 or 6 layferms along side their home website and there is a valid reason for this.
If one every finds themself in this process I employ you to bring a DSM to your evaluation or at least be familiar with the most common use disorders in the DSM-5, because your evaluation will turn into a dance of questions where the evaluator attempts to trap you in a round about way to stating something that may qualify for one of the diagnosis. I have provided an image from the DSM-5 below outlining AUD, which the evaluator concluded that I had the most severe from:
Image
Example***** Here are 10 examples of how he fraudulently assessed me taken directly from his assessment note.

1. Evaluator: Have you ever stoped drinking in the last year.

Me: yes I stoped every week day, I was only drinking on the weekends, until two weeks ago.
-Evaluator uses stoping and starting every week to qualify for 2 or more unsuccessful attempts to stop in the last year “There is a persistent desire or unsuccessful efforts to cut down or control alcohol use.”

1. Evaluator Have you ever had withdrawal symptoms

Me no
Evaluator Well Have you ever had a hangover? You know that’s a from of acute withdrawal
Me: yes in college, I had a few but that was years ago and I’m pretty sure the pathophysiology is different.
Evaluator uses this to count for withdrawal symptoms even tho is was more than a year ago

1. Evaluator: Have you even taken your sleeping medication on a day or night which you drank? Me: Yes, I took my prescriptions are prescribed but I never drank close to bed

Evaluator: qualified this as dangerous behavior with alcohol (where the DSM gives examples such as unprotected sex and drunk driving). The sleeping medication I was on is not a benzodiazepine therefore it is not deadly with alcohol. I personally have seen many patients in the ED who have taken their entire bottle of the medication and drank copious amounts, we just monitor them over night and rehydrate them

1. Evaluator Has anyone told you you drink to much or been worried about you Me: No I drink much less than my friends

Evaluator what about your girlfriend? Me: well she actually doesn’t drink at all she doesn’t like it. She often buys me beer for The Weeknd’s tho. One time we went to a movie and she got a little irritated because I waited for beer then complained about them not having any craft beer. So she said, “you couldn’t have just said no” and drank something else. However, she apologized after and said it’s worth waiting if it’s my only day off.
Evaluator said this qualifies for continued drinking despite causing significant relation consequences, ie divorce.

1. Evaluator : you have sleep issues I hear, and your chart says you’ve had depression in the past, don’t you know that alcohol can effect your sleep and mood Me: yes that’s why I never drink within 3 hours of sleep.

Evaluator but you knew this and still drank
Evaluator: qualifies for drinking despite unwanted physical or psychological effects (this should be recurring to effects the alcohol is causing, I have had insomnia sense the age of 10 long before I took my first sip)
7 evaluator you were late for work and told my you had a drink the day before
Me: Yes but I was late because I didn’t sleep and took double my sleeping meds, I will never do that again
Qualifies for 2 significant work or school issues in the past year ( a therapist and other psychologist ensured me that being late on or a few days doesn’t count they typically are getting fired or failing) ( moreover, this would assume I was late do to drinking it’s self and also assume if happened more than once)

1. • Alcohol is often taken in larger amounts or over a longer period than was intended

He never once asked anything related to this question yet said I qualified in his final report 9. A great deal of time is spent in activities necessary to obtain alcohol, use alcohol, or recover from its effects. The evaluators logic here was sense I was late for work and I had 2 beers the day before I must be taking long to recover from it (this is assuming I missed due to alcohol)

1. Tolerance drinking more to require the same effect: this he checked as true in his final note however it was never even discussed in our evaluation. I did mention to him that I’ve been drinking more than I had earlier in the year frequency wise, but they said nothing to do with quantity or needing more.
   
2. Wanting to drink so bad you can not think of anything else: this is the only qualification of SAUD my evaluator said I did not have.
   

Moreover, without legal help I was not aware that I could obtain a second evaluation or even oppose going to get evaluated at all, but that wouldn’t have mattered seeing I still thought this was for my health and wellbeing as seen when I was asked why do you think you are here to today, to which I replayed “so that I can be evaluated to see what is needed to get back to work”.
To maks the ordeal more infuriating the evaluator continues to ingratiate himself and lie through the process telling you, “it will be fine as long as you are 100% honest”, “anything you say in here is between you and me” or “you slipped up once with your meds, I know your residnecy program they will probably just want a few more out patient tests”
Two weeks later I received a phone call right before I left for an out of state vacation to visit my nice for her birthday. During the call I was informed that I would be required to complete a partial hospitalization program (PHP) lasting “6-10 weeks” which would coast from 15-50 grand not including doctor visits or housing which is billed separately. I suppressed this inconvenience, enjoyed my vocation and reported when I returned, knowing that I must complete this soon so I may return to work with due to the fact that my payed time off would soon be diminished. At this time I had not yet heard of the organization PRN.
Chapter 3 Guilty till proven innocent: The diagnosis
Shell shocked I arrived to a in patient psychiatric unit and was rapidly cleared to progress to treatment without detoxification. During my 90 day of forced rehabilitation I met a few other individuals who were unjustly and fraudulently forced into treatment. I began to look up to one of these such members of the men’s community, who I will refer to as patient X for ambiguity sake.
Unlike me patient X did have alcohol use disorder. He spent many clinic days drinking to avoid alcoholic withdraws. The curious component of his story is that he admitted his depravity, saught help and through his own journey became sober. The bodies at be, namely his local physician, Health monitoring program, rejected his personal path to sobriety and forced him to undergo 90 days of in patient treatment before he could practice medicine again. When he checked in to rehab he had been sober for over a year.
Ask for Stories of people from online
As for me I spend many sleepless nights pondering how consuming a legal substance in a moderate amount could throw me into significant legal financial issues. My labs my toxicology, my story and my collateral from colleagues from colleagues all indicated light to moderate alcohol use but my evaluators word stood as the word of God.
More frightening was the director of this rehabs acknowledgment of this. The director who happens to also coincidentally be the evaluator, stated to me as well as to staff on multiple occasions: “ I suggest inpatient treatment for everyone who is reported”. “This is safer for me not to miss anyone who could harm patients, and I figure there must be a reason someone reported them.”
I am still elucidating the reason why I was determined guilty and proven innocent, however I can say from my 90 day stent that the majority of the patients at this rehab needed to be there. This program is saving lives of both providers and patients, however it is destroying the lives of those wrongfully accused.
Chapter 4 your lisense rehab or jail : Upon arivil I was sent to a detox hospital underwent a medical examination and was “one of the lucky ones” who required no detoxification and could report directly to PHP. Like everyone else, I spent 90 days in a PHP, being as 6-10 weeks is simply a lie they tell patients to decrease the change of resisting the treatment. When discussing the topic one therapist sated “if we told patients 90 days they would never come.” She then attempted to justify the treatment by outlining the story of a patient she had called who “didn’t make it to treatment” and killed themselves”. It is my belief that it is not the lack of PHP which impelled such professionals to take their life, but them realizing that they now will be obliged to undergo 90 days of PHP, 5 years of PRN monitoring with a loss of autonomy and hundreds of thousands of dollars taken from them that induced their hopelessness. For even if these professionals were truly mentally unstable in their addictions, in every case it was only following a phone call where they were informed they must undergo treatment that they took their life’s. By this time I still haven’t the slightest clue what PRN was.
Despite the security these programs provide for many my 6 main issues with them can be summarized in : 1. Kick backs: evaluators are directors of treatment clinics 2. The reported are guilty till proven innocent 3. The price, the overflow of money these places drag in from both patients and state universities is appalling, they charge separately for every visit and test 4. Although they make the claim that they are individualized, they are anything but. Every patient gets the same stay and treatment from the doctor drunk on the job and the one who was late to a shift 5. They force voluntary treatment. remember that friendly evaluator who promised he had your best interest at heart, so you opened up and told him everything about your substance use/ developmental / family history, well if you don’t stay for 90 days he will be “normally obliged” to tip the board of medical off to you.

1. The programs have overstepped their intended jurisdiction. -these programs work well if they function how they were intended at their inception. Cite original purpose. Originally these programs were designed to protect physicians and civilians from impaired practitioners; being healthcare workers who were impaired at work. Over the years, these organizations have extended their authority to encompass individuals with substance use disorders When not at work and also those who are in training to become healthcare professionals. Take for example myself compared to a physician who is impaired at work. A doctor who arrived for duty under the influence would surely benifit from the extensive testing, therapy and accountability enforced via these programs. In accordance the 20,000$ per year cost is appropriate when only making up roughly 7% of their yearly salary vs nearly half of a residents. In my case with my loss of income from employment, coast of treatment and monitoring, this year I will be required to pay 20,000$ to work. Yes, I will be losing money to work. Even if did indeed have a substance use disorder this level of monitoring wouldn’t not be considered appropriate.

Dispite all of the miscomings of this System My time spend in PHP was indeed helpful, as I believe it would be for anyone. Time for exercise, a reprieve from work and weekly counseling. A sample structure of my day to day schedule is provided below for insight:
Structure The general structure of these rehabitation centers is as follows: 1. One week of orientation phase, where you are not allowed in electronics or contact with the outside world world. Therefore, if you’re going, bring some things you would like to read or study. 2. In phase 2, you can use your phone however you cannot leave campus. You must stay in the dorm on campus. These shitty 1 room run down apartments with two other roommates will cost you about $1000 a week, they are required for at least four weeks and they are billed separately, no insurance will help you out here. 3. In phase 3 you can commute to campus if you beg your therapist and live very close. Whether you’re on campus or living off-campus, you are allowed to leave up to four hours per day. If you commute, you’ll be required to take a sober link decide you must Breath, alcohol test into every 6 hours. Like everything else in this program you must pay for this separately, a few hundred dollars a week. You advanced to other phases by completing assignments, however, assignments are limited by required built-in time, intrusive, scheduling, and reviewing. Therefore, if you do everything as rapidly as possible phase 1 will take one week phase 2 will take three weeks.
Every day schedule:
7:30: wake up, report to the front desk to inform them that you haven’t ran away yet and take and prescribed medications. They keep all your medications and require that you report to take them; for me this was antidepressants in an attempt to dispel the depression I contracted from being forced into treatment and whatever off label medication they were attempting to treat my ADHD with, since control medications were forbidden.
8 am: community group assessments This consisted of other patients presenting their assignments amongst the large group, on the weekends this was often an hour later and 12 study regularly took the place of assignment presentation.
10 am: process group. This was a two hour group therapy session with 6 to 12 other professionals in a therapist and training or occasionally a licensed mental health therapist.
1 pm: recreation This was generally about an hour of some sober themed craft or activity. Once a week this time slot was used for yoga.
2 pm: this was another time slot used for patients to present assignments as well as for individual therapy sessions. Each patient had one individual therapy session lasting 30 minutes per week.
3pm: This was time allotted to work on assignments or go to the gym on your sex specific scheduled gym day.
5pm: this time was used for guest speakers or another 12 step study group.
6 pm : this was generally an off-campus 12 step group
10 pm: report to the front desk and let them know you still haven’t ran away and take and Medication which are prescribed to take at night, then return to your cot bed in your room with 1-2 other roommates.
I found the community to be one of the most beneficial aspects of the PHP program. I was in a cohort of chill ass professionals of the same occupation who were always there to help each other.
Assignments The curriculum of the PHP consisted of assignment based on every step of the 12th step program. Generally, a patient would be required to complete an assignment on their own, review it with other patients, then faculty and finally present the assignment in front of the whole treatment group. You’re only given one assignment at a time and there are multiple steps to each which all requires scheduling this ensures that no matter how determined a patient is a full 90 days of treatment is required to complete all the assignments.
AA structure -the obsolete nature of AA has been verified in numbers studies, but I will refrain from divulging here and lend that endeavor to Dr. Lance Dodes very thorough discussion on the subject,in “the sober truth “
In all sincerity, if I truely did have a severe use disorder this experience could have been life saving. I only wish I could have used my 50 grand for someone who has spent their life time In addictive without reprieve. My first conversation when I was given my phone back was how I wish my father could be able to attend this PHP.
Chapter 5 reporting and PRN Self reporting What they ask you What you should tell them
There’s a third-party agency called professional resource network. Every state has their own. This agency works as a liaison between you and whatever credentialing service your occupation requires. Essentially they ensure your monitoring after treatment. Stake governments and licensing boards trust them, mainly because they monitor with the highest level of intrusiveness. This alleviates much work for state governments and licensing boards because once an individual is being monitored by a professional resource network, then they are deemed appropriate for duty and no further investigation/litigation needs to occur, as long as the monitored individual completely complies.
Because I was never impaired at work I was never reported to this agency. The general workflow of things someone would report you to professional resource network, then the resource network would contact you, and then you would be required to report for an evaluation at a treatment center, which would inevitably result in a suggestion I’ve treatment at that given treatment center. In my case I was sent to the treatment center without PRN being involved. Thus, two weeks into treatment. I was notified by my therapist that I needed to call PRN and self report. I attempted to resistance given that I did not have a problem and was not individually seeking help. I asked what happened if I didn’t self report. I was told that in order to stay in the treatment program I had to report to PRN. This meant either I report to PRN or I get kicked out of the treatment program and lose my job.
When you report to PRN they will ask you why you are in treatment. They will then list off every substance imaginable, asking you if you have ever tried the substance and when your last use was. Ultimately, they will obtain your discharge information from your treatment center, so it is in your best interest to report only what was found in your biochemical testing. If it wasn’t in your hair, I would argue that you don’t have a use disorder regarding that substance and it’s not relevant. I don’t believe it’s important for them to know that you smoked weed when you were 12.
Chapter 6 The contract:
Before being discharged from a treatment facility, a professional resource network will have you sign a contract. A little known fact which I was oblivious to is that contracts can be negotiated. Though this isn’t it possible, it is highly improbable that you can negotiate your contract since PRN has a power to delay your clearance to return to work.
Contractor almost never personalized, and I have not heard of a contract which is not a five-year agreement. You will sign releases of information so that PRN has access to all of your information which was gathered at the treatment facility. You must have a therapist, psychiatrist, primary care, doctor, and a addiction, medicine psychiatrist. You assign releases of information for all of them. You will be required To commit to: 1. three mutual aid meetings a week which you must log. I log smart recovery meetings. 2. Weekly therapy sessions with an approved mental health therapist from their list 3. Monthly doctors appointments with an addiction medicine psychiatrist 4. Yearly appointments with a primary care physician 5. Monthly appointments with a psychiatrist 6. Daily check-ins on a random drug testing app ( you will agree to weekly urine tests, a peth test 4 times a year, a hair test twice a year and a little caveat that says anything else they deem, clinically reasonable) 7. Quarterly update reports which you are required to obtain from a workplace monitor, therapist, addiction, medicine, psychiatrist, primary care physician and any other doctor you are seeing. 8. You must upload all of your prescriptions into a mobile application every single time you get them refilled and are not allowed to take them until they are approved. 9. Attendance of a PRN group via zoom. This is a local group you are assigned along with other monitored practitioners. There is a fee of roughly 130$ a month to attend this required group. For me all of these requirements coast around 20,000 a year. If you ever have a positive test even if it is the result of contamination from rubbing alcohol or unintentional ingestion of alcohol/ allergy medication your contract will rest to 5 years from the time of positive test. Once your five year contract is completed, you must ask to be released from monitoring. At that point they will search for any reason to keep you under monitoring. This could be dilute urines, daily check ins or a week where you did not attend mutual aid meetings. Every certification and license which you apply for will likely ask you if you were under a monitoring program/ have been treated for substance use. You must give an explanation and check yes. As far as licensing programs are concerned, if you were under the monitoring of PRN, you are safe, however they group practitioners who have had behavioral issues with practitioners who were diverting drugs from work. Therefore, keep in mind that you will be labeled as a sever addict.
7 Back to work and only work. During treatment your only goal is to return to work, however when you return your experience will be drastically distinct from what you remember. For me, I was now working in isolation. Missing six months of my training meant that no other Resident was on the same rotation as me. My coworkers at all formed friend groups. When I returned I was greeted with much concern for my well being. No one would speak to be about my absence, however everyone knew there is only one reason a resident would leave for 6 months then return. My Accdeemic meetings were consisting of attending telling me “I have a target on my back now” and “ I have to preform even better than others” in the light of my time missed. If this wasn’t alienating enough, the majority of Resident events, sponsored by recruiters and my university revolved around alcohol to which I had to give some excuse to why I can not partake with others. I’m fortunate that I do not have an addiction, because these stressful conditions along with the daunting amount of dead and requirements imposed by PRN are enough to make any addict relapse. While I was at treatment, I was in the dative with Samyr stories a physicians whose addictions got the best of them. Physicians who did not make it to treatment, often taking their own life. These stories were presented as a warning. Your addictions will kill you without our treatment was the message. When, in reality I did not hear one story in which the addiction killed physician. Every physician who didn’t make it to treatment took their life after being told they must report to a treatment facility. Perhaps they knew what this entailed and it was not their addiction or getting caught which caused them to end their lives, but the unmanageable and often unreasonable burden that treatment would put on their lives.
9 How to escape So your fucked your in PRN and should be or you should and now your recovered and want to terminated your contract.

1. You ask to be released early done at 1/2 time ( good luck)
2. You have “good reason” (no one has ever been let out of contract because of this reason, the verbiage is far too vague)
3. You serve all your time and they let you out(maybe, as discussed earlier, they would do everything they can to keep you in your contract as long as your practicing)
4. You can’t practice medicine anymore

10 Layer up butter cup : I cannot emphasize the extent to which legal help is required in this process. You much seek it and seek it early. Lawyers can provide many avenues to you early in the process. Once you have committed to treatment, gone for evaluation or are in a PRN contract , this is very little that you or legal help can do. Spend a few thousand dollars when you are accused and save the 20-30,000 later.
After you have been evaluated if you disagree as I did, then this is the process you must undergo. 1. Hire a occupation, defense, lawyer 2. Prove you don’t have an addiction, this is done by having an alternative evaluator with similar credentials state that either you don’t have an addiction or that PRN’s level of monitoring is not medically appropriate ( this will need to be a multi day neuropsychological evaluation, which will cost about $5000). 3. Your lawyer must draft in writing that the medical level of monitoring is not required such as another medical professional and send this to PRN 4. PRN will tattle on you to the board of medicine. 5. The board of medicine will conduct an investigation. 6. At the end or when they believe they have enough reasonable evidence to the board of medicine will suspend your license or claim, you must comply with the PRN contract to practice. 7. At this time your lawyer will defend you in the state court against the board. This is costly but much less than the coast of a 5 year PRN contract 8. If you win you will likely suggest an alternative level of care such as gonna get therapy every week. If you lose, than you wasted a fuck ton of money and are still bound by your PRN contract.
Overall this entire process has coast me Over all coast:
My finances for this year only including PRN and rent are as follows:
120-200$ every week for testing 480-800/ month
65 every week for therapy 195/month
125 every month for PRN group
About 50-69 every month for 2 doctor apts
So at least 745$/month at the lowest
Treatment at the recovery center coast 20,000 for me out of pocket and
I wasn’t payed for 6 months with no FMLA because I am a first year. At the 1 year mark I will have made 26,000 this year after taxes And payed About 29,000 on PRN alone
Rent is 1,000 so that’s 12,000 a year
Just in rent and PRN alone I will be at 26,000- 41,600 -15,600.
I will be in debt by at least 18,000 at the 1 year mark
Coast of treatment center 20,000 (with insurance) For each year of PRN roughly 20,000 Add that to 6 months of attending salary which was delayed due to my treatment time: at least 150,000 Layer coasts along with other evaluations 25,000 Missing 6 months of residency pay 30,000 Coast of 1 year in monitoring: 245,000 Coast of 5 years 325,000
If my case progress to a trail I will require an extra 20,000 in court coasts
Chapter 11 My secondary eval: Dr sushi After I arrived at my treatment center I challenge my evaluation multiple times. Each and every time I was discharged and often accused of alternate mental health/ substance abuse issues to discourage my advances. I was never given the opportunity to undergo alternative assessment, however PRN guidelines state that you can obtain a second option within 7 days of your first. This is a mute point, however, because you will not receive the results of your evaluation until over a week after it is conducted and the second evaluation must be conducted by another PRN hired evaluator of their choosing. During my stay in rehab I contacted PRN multiple times to attempt another evaluation/ legal help. They warned against both stating they were a “waste of money” and “pointless”.
After completing my treatment with the guidance of many addiction, experienced physicians, mental health counselors and psychiatrists recommendations I sought in a secondary evaluation. I chose a highly qualified professional with over 30 years of experience to conduct an extensive neuo psycho social evaluation of me. One that I was sure would be more extensive than the evaluation I received at treatment and more importantly an unbiased evaluation.
The results from my evaluation not only showed that I did not have a substance abuse problem warranting PRN level monitoring, but also that PRN was falling to allow adequate treatment of other conditions such as my ADHD. My evaluation showed my ADHD was not only untreated by PRNs attempt at using non controlled medication, but also in the top 3% most severe presentations of ADHD. My evaluator went on to explain my results by questioning why my treatment center even mandated I undergo neuro cognitive evaluation. The only neurodiverse findings were my IQ, my dyslexia and my ADHD. However, a neuo cognitive examination can be billed separately by treatment centers, therefore they always recommend one.
Chapter 12 Amongst its greed, intrusive nature and faulty accusations, professional recourse network function highly proficiently at the task they were designed to; protective physicians and patients from physicians who are impaired at work. In this domain they save lives, offer second changes and protect the public. When they act beyond their intended jurisdiction by imposing unnecessary monetary demands on practitionersin training, accuse practitioners without proof or act on behavior exemplified outside of a work setting they unjustly and inappropriately attack the week and innocent.
Proposed reform: As a trainee my universities malpractice insurance covers me for mistakes made at work. If a learner mistakenly harms a patient, then the university stands on their behalf. If the learner does something wrong under a teachers direct guidance, then the teacher is at fault. This makes sense logically as well as pragmatically. The state entrusts large amounts of money to hospital systems and universities to train resident physicians. A portion of this money is allocated to malpractice insurance. This should extend to accused impairment.
Suppose a training university was required to cover rehabilitation and monitoring of a resident of whom they claim is impaired. Alternatively they have the option of firing the trainee. This would reduce the number of innocent trainees being accused of impairment, make the process of rehabilitation more fair and provide a better use for tax payer derived dollars, which hospital systems are given to train residents. The truly impaired could still seek help, less false accusations would be made and with the employers having the ability to fire at the moment of impairment, there would be less chance of impairment at work.

And he said, Hear thou therefore the word of the LORD: I saw the LORD sitting on his throne, and all the host of heaven standing by him on his right hand and on his left.And the LORD said, Who shall persuade Ahab, that he may go up and fall at Ramothgilead? And one said on this manner, and another said on that manner

Hear ye! Hear ye! The king of Britons and house of Pendraig is offering his friendship code for those who are worthy!
Make sure to enter the code after you buy the game and BEFORE you start up your subscription to get your rewards.
How to redeem:

1. Login to your FFXIV account on the Mogstation: https://sqex.to/msp
2. "Registration Codes" on the left-hand side menu
3. Click "Enter Recruitment Code" and enter the code: KEHZVEAG

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So I’ve been browsing steam today and found some great deals, there’s the “tomb raider survivor trilogy bundle” where I’m not able to understand what the F I get from that bundle like there’s 20 items in it and shadow of tomb raider is 5 of em so I literally have no clue what it’s about and if someone had any knowledge over this, I would love to know and I’ve always wanted to play the tomb raider series so if I’m gonna buy this your info will surely be helpful in the purchase
On the other hand theres AC odyssey & origins so I did a lil bit of digging bout these two and the games are not really that dated and look visually and aesthetically pretty good looks like I would def enjoy my time playing, but during my digging I saw a lot of hate around Ubisoft, not owning and all that stuff, this left me really confused on whether I should just go for the purchase or get creative with other ways
If you have any knowledge on both of these things I’d be glad to know and make a wiser purchase Thanks 🙂

So currently my husband’s entire family (parents,sister and Nani) has come to stay with us. Since, they have come, after office and on weekends he only spend time with them along with our 9 month old baby. He would only come in our room to sleep. Neither he talks to me nor we have any physical intimacy between us.
To give more context he is the dominating partner in our relationship where he decides everything, he doesn’t like if I do not agree with him or want something else. He want me to always talk in polite tone (even when I do not agree with him or is angry/upset) but he can say the most hurtful things when angry or use his hand gesture at me or shout at me or push me or say things like ‘yahan se niklo’ or ‘mujhse baat mat karo’ or ‘mera dimaag mat khao’
Last night I asked him about his behaviour towards me and said that since his family had come he does not have anytime for me. To this he said ‘he thinks our frequency doesn’t match now a days’. During the discussion he also started complaining about my weight gain post pregnancy and how he doesn’t like when I do not agree with him. Overall, he wants a wife who listen to him, do as he like and love his family (whereas he can treat my parents as low level citizen, see my earlier post).
We had a love marriage 7 years ago (dated for 5 years before marriage) but now he has changed completely. I used to think that after baby, love between couple blossoms but in our case it has worsened. All of this is very suffocating for me, last night all I wanted to do is resign from my job and take my baby with me and live with my parents. But then I thought I come from a conservative family, I also love him and care for him. My parents will be shattered by all this.
All this is affecting me and my mental health a lot. At night I have to take sleeping pills to sleep. I want to work on my marriage and relationship with my husband, I want him to also love me (like I love him) and prioritise me as well. Please guide me how I can do this .
Sometimes I feel if I leave him it won’t affect him much, he will be happy with his family and will find someone else. Even if he doesn’t he will still be happy. Whereas I will be totally lost in this world, I won’t have anything left in my life and I won’t be able to love anyone else ever.

I am a CA CNA and recently my work has began training me to assist with patients self administering meds… including OTC and narcotic PRNs. I will open the bottle/hand them the bubble pack and they pop it into the cup. I am NOT med tech certified…
Is this legal? I have high anxiety that being left alone at night, without an LVN/RN, and helping with self administration with narcotics specifically could lead to my license getting stripped if state showed up. Any opinions?

So please don’t judge me but at university I was in the toilets and because it was Covid time I was very nervous of getting sick so instead of doing my belt and then washing my hands I instead kinda came out with my belt and trousers undone and I was somewhat exposed?
But yeah that’s when a trans man came in and it was a very electric experience, I screamed in shock and he said sorry and quickly left.
But over two years later I’m thinking can a trans man see my awrah? A cis man’s awrah?
I mean he’s gay and had a boyfriend and all but like still he did see my awrah.
And as we’re in a very accepting society more trans men and masculine non binary people will be in spaces where they’ll probably see my awrah, like gym changing rooms and the like.
But can they see it in an Islamic context?
Especially those assigned female at birth.

So please don’t judge me but at university I was in the toilets and because it was Covid time I was very nervous of getting sick so instead of doing my belt and then washing my hands I instead kinda came out with my belt and trousers undone and I was somewhat exposed?
But yeah that’s when a trans man came in and it was a very electric experience, I screamed in shock and he said sorry and quickly left.
But over two years later I’m thinking can a trans man see my awrah? A cis man’s awrah?
I mean he’s gay and had a boyfriend and all but like still he did see my awrah.
And as we’re in a very accepting society more trans men and masculine non binary people will be in spaces where they’ll probably see my awrah, like gym changing rooms and the like.
But can they see it in an Islamic context?
Especially those assigned female at birth.

Hodadenon: The Last One Left and the Chestnut Tree
Long ago a boy and his uncle lived together in an elm bark lodge.
The boy’s name was Hodadenon, which means “The Last One Left.”
All of the rest of his family had disappeared over the years and it was thought they had been killed by those who were ‘otgont’, possessed of wicked powers.
Each morning the uncle would feed Hodadenon and then go out of the lodge to hunt, leaving the boy by himself. Each evening he would return, again feed the boy, and then go to sleep.
One day Hodadenon was playing by himself in the lodge.
He began to think. “Enh,” he said, “why is it that I never see my uncle eat?”
Then he took a bone awl and made a small hole in the deerskin he used as a blanket each night.
“Tonight,” said Hodadenon, “I shall see what happens after we go to bed.”
That evening as always the uncle returned. He fed the boy and told him to go to sleep. Hodadenon lay down on one side of the fire and on the other side the uncle lay down on his couch, which was made of saplings and covered with many animal skins.
Pulling the deerskin over his head, Hodadenon pretended to sleep, but he could still see his uncle through the small hole he had made.
After a time, the uncle stood up and went over to the fire.
“Hodadenon,” said the uncle in a soft voice, but the boy did not answer.
Three times more the uncle called his name, but Hodadenon still pretended to sleep. Coming closer to the fire, the uncle blew very hard into it.
Sparks flew out, landing on the boy’s legs.
“Hodadenon,” said the uncle, “be careful. You are going to be burned.”
But even though some of the sparks fell on his bare skin and burned him Hodadenon did not move.
“Nyoh,” said the uncle, “the boy is indeed asleep.”
He went over to his couch and removed the skins.
He lifted off the top of the couch and took out a box made of birch bark.
All of this Hodadenon watched through the hole in his blanket.
Opening the box made of birch bark, the uncle took out a small pot.
It was so small that it fit easily in the palm of his hand.
From inside the pot he took out another object which the boy could not clearly see though it looked to be smaller than an acorn.
Using a little knife, the uncle scraped tiny shavings from the thing into the pot.
Then, putting the tiny pot over the fire, he blew on it and sang this song:
Grow, pot, grow in size
Grow, pot, grow in size
And as Hodadenon watched, the pot grew in size as the uncle sang his song and blew on it. Finally the pot was as large as a normal cooking pot and the odour of something delicious came from it.
Before long the food was ready and the uncle ate it all.
When he was through, he blew once more on the pot and sang this song:
Shrink, pot, shrink in size
Shrink, pot, shrink in size
And once again the pot became small enough to hold in the palm of his hand.
Replacing the thing he had scraped in the tiny pot, Hodadenon’s uncle replaced the pot in the birch bark box and again hid everything in the secret compartment under his couch. Then he went to sleep.
The next morning, as always, the uncle went out hunting and left the boy alone in the lodge. For a time Hodadenon played around the lodge.
He shot his small bow and arrow at a target and did other things, but the song his uncle sang to the pot kept going through his head.
Finally he could stand it no longer.
“My uncle will be back soon from his hunting,” he said. “He will be very hungry. I should prepare a meal for him.”
Hodadenon went over to his uncle’s couch, pulled off the skins and opened the compartment.
Taking out the box of birch bark, he opened it and found the tiny pot.
Within it was half of a small dry nut.
“So this is my uncle’s food,” said Hodadenon, “but it is almost gone.
If I want to make enough for him to eat, I must use it all.
I am sure he can get more.” So Hodadenon took a knife and scraped all that was left of the nut into the tiny pot.
Then, placing the pot over the fire, he blew on it and sang:
Grow, pot, grow in size
Grow, pot, grow in size
Sure enough, just as it had done for his uncle, the pot became larger.
Now it was the size of a normal cooking pot and it was boiling and boiling.
But Hodadenon was not satisfied, “surely my uncle will be more hungry than this when he comes home.
I must make more.”
Then he blew on the pot and again sang:
Grow, pot, grow in size
Grow, pot, grow in size
Now the pot was so large and bubbling so fast that Hodadenon had to stretch to stir the contents, which smelled very good indeed.
“Neh,” said Hodadenon, “this isn’t enough. What if my uncle wishes to share this good food with me.
After all, he will be grateful that I prepared it.
I must make more.”
So, once more, he blew on the kettle and sang the song.
Again the pot grew and now it was so large that Hodadenon had to stand on top of his uncle’s couch and use a canoe paddle to stir the contents, but he was so excited that he did not want to stop.
“This is almost enough for us,” he said, “but what if we should have visitors?
We should have enough to offer them as well.”
So, for a fourth time, Hodadenon blew on the pot and sang the magic song.
The pot grew so big that Hodadenon had to get out of the lodge because it filled the whole place from side to side! It was so big that the only way the boy could stir it was by taking a long pole up to the roof and reaching down to stir it through the smoke hole!
When Hodadenon’s uncle came back from hunting, the first thing he saw was the pudding bubbling out of the door of the lodge.
He heard someone singing above him and looked up.
There was Hodadenon, swinging his legs in the smoke hole, still stirring the pudding and singing happily:
What a good cook I am
What a good cook I am
We all will eat well now
What a good cook I am
“Nephew,” called the old man, “come down from there.
What you have done has killed me.”
Then Hodadenon’s uncle blew on the pot through the door of the lodge and sang the song to make it grow small.
When it was down to the size it had been at the beginning, he entered the lodge, lay down on his couch and began to weep.
Hodadenon, who had come down from the smoke hole, walked over to where the old man lay.
“Uncle,” said Hodadenon, “what is wrong?”
“Hodadenon,” said the uncle, “you have used up all of the only food I can eat.
Now I will starve to death.
This is why I never allowed you to see me eat.
I knew that you would do this.”
“Uncle,” said the boy, “things can’t be that bad.
Just go and get another of those little nuts.”
“Neh,” said the uncle, “that is the kind of food called a chestnut.
Long ago, though it was very dangerous, I obtained that one.
All these years I have eaten it and it would have lasted for many more.
Now I am too old to get another one.”
“Wah-ah,” said Hodadenon, “this is my doing.
I shall go and bring back many chestnuts.”
“It is not possible,” said the old man.
“The way is long and guarded by many terrible creatures.
Others of your family have gone there but none have ever returned.”
Yet Hodadenon would not give up. Finally the uncle agreed to tell him the way.
“Go straight to the north, the uncle said. “There you will find a narrow path.
At its first turn it is guarded by two great rattle snakes, slaves to the evil ones who own the chestnut trees.
No one can get past them.”
“But what if I do, Uncle?” asked Hodadenon.
If anyone by good luck passes the great snakes, he will next encounter two huge hears.
They guard a passageway between the rocks.
They too are slaves of the evil ones.
They will tear apart anyone who tries to pass.
“Further on down the path are two giant Panthers which leap upon anyone who attempts to get by them. Hodadeno, it cannot be done.”
“Is that all, Uncle?” Hodadenon said.
“Is it not enough?” said the old man.
“Neh, that is only the beginning. Next is the place where the chestnut trees grow.
There live the seven sisters who own the trees.
All of them are strong in ‘otgont’ power.
If anyone comes to steal the chestnuts, they run from their long lodge and beat the person to death with their clubs.
No one can hope to go undetected, for a flayed human skin hangs in the top of a tree looking down on the chestnut grove and it sings a warning when anyone comes close.”
“Nyah-weh, Uncle,” said Hodadenon, “I thank you for your good advice.
Now I must he on my way. I shall return with the food you need if all goes well.”
Taking two sticks, he tied them together and placed them standing near the fire.
“Watch these sticks, Uncle,” said the boy. “If all is well with me they will not move, but if I am killed they will break apart.”
Now Hodadenon set out on his way.
He went straight to the north and found a narrow path.
“This must be the road my uncle told me of,” said Hodadenon. “It looks easy enough to travel.”
The boy continued along and soon the path began to twist and wind.
Ahead, it turned sharply to the left. Hodadenon stopped, crept off the path, went through the trees, and peered out cautiously.
There on either side of the path, were two great rattlesnakes, coiled and ready to strike.
“Uncle,” said Hodadenon, “you know this road well.” He went and caught two chipmunks. Holding one in each hand he again began to walk the path.
When he came to the two rattlesnakes he threw a chipmunk into the mouth of each before they could strike him.
“Tca,” he said, “you seem to be in need of food.
Now I have given you that which you should hunt for yourselves.
Hawenio, our Creator, did not make any of his beings to be slaves. Go from this place.”
As soon as he finished speaking, the two rattlesnakes uncoiled and crawled off in different directions, leaving the road unguarded as Hodadenon went along his way.
Meanwhile, back at the lodge, the two tied sticks which had been quivering now stood still as Hodadenon’s uncle watched them intently.
Now the path entered a rocky place.
Again Hodadenon left the trail to scout ahead.
There, where the way dipped between two big boulders, were a pair of giant bears, crouched and ready to tear apart anybody who tried to go by.
“Uncle,” said Hodadenon, “you have travelled this road before.”
He climbed a tree where he heard the buzzing of many bees, pulled out two combs of honey and went back onto the path.
When he came to the bears, he hurled the combs of honey into their mouths before they could grab him.
“Hunh,” the boy said, “it looks to me as if you were hungry.
Now I have given you that which you like best of all.
The one who gave us breath, Hawenio, did not make us to be the slaves of anyone.
Go from this place.”
At his words, the two bears turned and went away,each in a different direction as Hodadenon continued down the trail.
Meanwhile, back at the uncle’s lodge, the two tied sticks stopped quivering and Hodadenon’s uncle breathed a sigh of relief.
Now the path entered a deep forest and wound between large trees.
Leaving the trail, Hodadenon crept along till he could see the place where two huge panthers, eyes glowing like green flames, hid behind a pair of giant pines on either side of the path.
“Uncle,” Hodadenon said, “you remember your travels well.”
Taking his bow and arrows, he killed two deer.
Carrying them over his shoulders, he went down the trail once more.
Before the panthers could leap upon him, he threw each of them a deer.
“Ee-yah,” he said, “I see that you were in need of food.
Now I have given you that which you are supposed to hunt.
Know that the one who gave us strength to walk around, Hawenio, did not intend that any living creature should serve another as a slave.
Go from this place.”
In two different directions away into the trees slunk the panthers and the boy continued along his way.
Meanwhile, back at the lodge, the two sticks which had been shaking as if struck by a strong wind once more stood still as Hodadenon’s uncle watched them.
The path in front of Hodadenon was very straight and wide. It looked to have been travelled by many feet.
The boy listened very carefully and soon he began to hear a very faint song coming from the treetops.
Crawling forward through the brush, he peered up and saw the one who was singing.
It was the skin of a woman tied in the top of a tree.
This was her song:
Gi-nu, gi-nu, gi-nu
I am the one who sees all,
I see you
The song was very soft.
Hodadenon could barely hear it, but he knew it would grow loud indeed if she caught a glimpse of him.
Below her was a grove of trees.
They were covered with a fruit which had burrs all over it.
These, Hodadenon knew, must be the chestnuts.
Beyond the skin woman and the trees was a great pile of human bones and just to the other side of them was the long lodge of the seven witches.
“Tcu,” said Hodadenon, “now I shall need some help.”
Going to a basswood tree, he peeled a long strip of bark.
With a burned stick and the juice of berries, he decorated the piece of bark until it looked just like a long wampum belt.
Slinging it over his shoulder, he knelt down and tapped four times on the earth.
“My friend,” he said, “I am in need of help.”
Up out of the ground poked the nose and then the head of a female mole.
“Nyoh, Hodadenon! How can I help you?” asked the mole.
“Grandmother,” said the boy, “if I make myself very small, will you carry me under the earth with you?”
“That’s too easy,” said the mole. “Let’s go!”
Then Hodadenon began to rub himself with his hands.
As he did so he grew smaller and smaller until he was small enough to travel with the mole under the earth.
Down into the ground they went, coming up beneath the very tree where the Skin Woman was swaying back and forth.
Once again Hodadenon rubbed himself with his hands until he was back to normal.
Then he called up to Skin Woman.
“Sister,” he called, “I have seen you first.
Do not tell the others I am here and I will give you this fine belt of wampum.”
“Wah-ah!” said Skin Woman, “I did not see you, Hodadenon.
Give me the belt and I will not warn them you are here.”
Hodadenon tossed the belt up to Skin Woman.
She put it on and immediately it wrapped itself so tightly about her she could not speak. Under the tree, Hodadenon quickly filled his pouch with chestnuts.
Then, making himself small once more, he called for his friend, Mole, to take him back under the earth.
Up in the tree, Skin Woman finally got her breath. She began to sing:
Gi-nu, gi-nu, gi-nu
Someone has bribed me
I cannot say who
Out from the long lodge ran the seven witches.
Each of them carried a long club.
They ran to the place where Skin Woman hung, but they saw no one.
“Someone has been here,” said one of the witches.
“Some of our chestnuts are gone,” said another.
“Skin Woman,” said a third witch, “you are our slave.
Speak and tell us who has been here.”
But Skin Woman did not answer the question.
All she did was swing back and forth in the wind, singing this song:
Gi-nu, gi-nu, gi-nu
I’ve been given a wampum belt
Shining and new
“You are a fool,” said another of the witches.
“That is only the bark from a tree.”
“It must have been The Last One Left.” said the fifth witch, “the boy whose uncle stole from us long ago.”
“If he comes back,” said the sixth witch, “we will catch him and kill him.”
“Nyoh,” said the last witch, “now we must punish our slave.”
She took her club and struck Skin Woman a heavy blow.
Each of the others did the same.
Then the seven witches went back into the long lodge, leaving the Skin Woman covered with bruises, but still singing softly of her fine new belt of wampum.
Meanwhile, back in the lodge of Hodadenon’s uncle, the two sticks had fallen over on the floor.
Picking them up and standing them upright once more, the old man watched them with great concern.
From his hiding place in the earth, Hodadenon had listened to all that was said by the seven sisters. “It is not right,” he said “that those terrible creatures should go on like this.
Friend Mole, we must go back there.”
The mole dove deeper into the earth.
She carried Hodadenon under the long lodge and came up beneath the couch where the sisters slept.
There, tied to a string of sinew, were seven hearts.
Quick as a spark leaping from the fire, Hodadenon grabbed the string of hearts and ran from the lodge.
Seeing him, the seven witches grabbed their clubs and gave chase.
Now back in the lodge of Hodadenon’s uncle the two sticks fell over once more.
The old man was so disheartened that he did not stand them up again.
He lay there staring at them, certain that his nephew would now never return alive.
From the top of her tree, Skin Woman sang as the seven witches chased Hodadenon:
Gi-nu, gi-nu, gi-nu
Hodadenon has your hearts
This will be the end of you
Now the first witch had almost caught up with the boy and raised her club to strike him.
As she did so, Hodadenon squeezed one of the hearts on the sinew string and the witch fell dead.
Now the second witch was about to strike.
Again Hodadenon squeezed a heart and the second witch died also.
In the end, he had squeezed all seven of the hearts and all seven of the evil sisters had fallen dead.
Climbing to the top of the tree, Hodadenon cut loose the cords which held Skin Woman.
He brought her down and placed her on top of the pile of human bones.
Then he began to push against a great dead hickory tree which was near the pile.
“Get yourselves up, my relatives!” he shouted. “A tree is about to fall on you!”
Immediately Skin Woman and all of the people whose bones were piled there leaped up and came back to life.
Skin Woman was, indeed, the sister of Hodadenon.
Long ago the evil witches had caught her and the others of his family whose bones lay in that pile.
There before him were his parents, his brothers, and all his relations.
All were very happy to be alive and thanked the boy again and again.
Taking the chestnuts from the ground, Hodadenon passed them out to all his relatives.
“Plant these all over,” he said. “Food will be shared with everyone from now on.”
Finally, his pouch filled with chestnuts, Hodadenon went back to the lodge of his uncle.
The old man lay there on his couch, thin as a skeleton, his eyes fixed on the two tied sticks.
“Uncle,” said Hodadenon, “I have returned.”
The old man jumped up and embraced the nephew.
To this day he still sits in that lodge, making chestnut pudding in his pot.
And from that time on, the chestnuts, like all the other good things given to us by Hawenio, our Creator, no longer belong to just one family, no matter how powerful they are, but are shared by all.

My boyfriend (19M) and I (20F) have been together for a year and a half. In the beginning, when any problem arise, we'd waste no time in talking to each other about it and we'd make sure we both don't go to bed upset. The conversations would be really understanding gentle and empathetic. He'd hold my hand and wipe my tears even when we haven't fixed the issue yet. He'd waste no time to bring me in for a hug at the first sight of me crying. Sometimes he'd cry when i cry. The thoughts in my head could escape my mouth so effortlessly when he'd listen to me while rubbing my back or just physically showing me that he is with me and that we aren't against each other. We'd never be fine with prolonging our ill feelings. Even though it took us a few arguments to get to where we were, we got there eventually :]
However recently, it has just been feeling way harder to talk to him about how I feel and I think it goes both ways. Sometimes I would get upset at the tone he is speaking to me in, and he'd explain that it's just the way he speaks. At this, I'd feel bad and that I was being sensitive and feel the need to apologize. Sometimes, when i bring up a problem, the tone he speaks in would change and it would scare me. I'd start trying really hard to make sure that he knows that I'm not against him, and that I just want to fix the issue. I'd voice out my concerns and sometimes it feels like he's taking it as attacks. I voice out because I value and care about our relationship. Instead of staying quiet, I chose to speak up about what's bothering me. If the assumptions I made were wrong I'd like for him to correct me and to reassure me. But many times, he'd get upset. I would again feel really bad for speaking up, start scrambling to make it very clear that I am not trying to fight him. I use to be really blunt and comfortable with telling him things but now I find myself second guessing and feeling scared. It's very hard for me to articulate my thoughts and to explain to a manner which he'd understand and sometimes I'd talk about how i feel for a good 5 minutes to be met with 'okay' and he'd go straight to asking me why i did certain things that upset him which i have no problems with asking and holding myself accountable for. I will give my apology where it is due and I want to give him what he deserves the best I can.
Last night, I made a mistake. During a heated arguement over the phone, the pace really started to pick up and he said "I can't-". Before he could finish, I cut him off by saying "you always do this" and hung. I was scared that he was going to say he needs time and space. I ended the call because I was scared of hearing that from him so I thought I'd leave first so it would hurt less. It didn't. It was wrong and hasty of me. That night, I was having trouble trying to sleep and just cried my eyes out after hanging up. I saw that he was online on steam which i was expecting. During the argument, he told me that his friend wanted to play with him at 9 (at this point it was around almost 11) and that he'd stayed because he feels guilty and that something is holding him back. At this, I was upset because I wish he'd told me earlier and that i wish he'd said "Actually my friend asked if I wanted to play with him but I'm not going to leave until we're fine or we talk this out" instead of not leaving because he feels guilty and something was holding him back as it made me feel really sad. He replied by saying that that's exactly what went through his head, it's just that he didn't say it/ it didn't come out of him.
But back to after the call ended, I cried and cried until 5am. I saw that he was online on steam (until before 5am) and automatically assumed that he was playing with his friend which I was glad about because I felt bad for his friend and him. I texted him to apologize for how things went last night and that it was wrong of me to end the call like that with that reason. I told him that i hope he got to play with his friend with a smiley face. I wished him a goodnight and sweet dreams and i told him i hope he knows how much i love him. I apologized again and told him I had no intentions to hurt him and that i was genuinely trying really hard to keep the conversation gentle and understanding. I thanked him for wanting to talk to me before playing with his friend if he did end up doing that and how i appreciate it a lot. I also asked him to text me when he's up and and that i love him again.
He replied to me at 12:30, after or during his class. This is what he replied to me with:
im sorry things went the way it did as well and i did see your tweets, its okay. i don't know how to feel about you hanging up because you were scared id say something along the lines of that and because that youd be left alone, it feels wrong, but i appreciate you telling me that. to be truthful, i feel mentally tired and overwhelmed, and im really feeling like i need some space.
I was really sad and worried that he didn't say he loves me back even though i said it twice. But i replied to him saying i understand, and i asked him if we will be fine. I also sent him this text:
and can we please find some time, maybe not today or tomorrow, to sit down and really talk it through with an open mind and heart?
I understand that you need space and that's what I am to give you but for now, i need reassurance on these things as i really cant handle no contact without at least reassurance please :/
I saw him typing, but I didn't get a reply and it's been almost 3 hours. For context, last week he did not reply to me for almost a day after an argument. I freaked out and called him no less than 100 times, asked his friwnds and sister where he went and if he's okay. They couldn't reach him (his sister had to get him through the house phone). He finally replied to me apologizing and we talked about the issue. I decided to be honest with him and in a long paragraph told him i dont do silence really well because it feels like he doesnt care or love me enough to wonder if im doing well because i was going crazy at the silence from his end(i said more but to make things short,). It was really bad to the point where i walked outside at night to distract myself and ended upvomitting on the side of the road. He said he understands and apoligized. He said it's the worse he's handled an argument and tried really hard to assure me that he loves me and we fine and back to normal. I felt okay and relieved at that point.
But now this is happening. I feel sad because it feels like he's forgotten about what i said last week. But at the same time, I feel really conflicted and I want to give him what he needs. I would do anything for our relationsip to be better. I want him to be happy. I'm trying my very hardest to be the best partner for him. I care about and value our relationship so much, and he still hasn't given me the reassurance i need in order to feel slightly fine about the distance. I do not know why and I'm spiralling worrying about why he hasn't replied to me.
I reallly want this relationship to work I love him so much and I know he loves me too. I acknowledge that things arent the same anymore and he might need different things now. I feel the key to this is to find a balance which we're struggling with. He is my best friend and makes me feel the most comfortable. I love being in my presence and he is my best friend. I wish to spend my whole life with this boy. Please help I tried so hard to keep myself together today and broke down in class :(

Hey! So I’ve been training Muay Thai for a little over a year now, however I also trained taekwondo for around 3 years when I was younger from about 12-15 and then stopped until I was 20 and started Muay Thai. I honestly can’t even remember what stance I took back then but I think I was orthodox for the most part, but taekwondo teaches stance switching pretty heavily so I was decent at both but not great at either. Now, ever since I’ve started Muay Thai I’ve been training in southpaw, its been so long since I’ve actually trained that I just went into the stance that felt most comfortable to me and that happens to be southpaw and I’ve been doing pretty good with it so far.
My question is this. Is there a specific reason that right handed people fight orthodox and left handed southpaw? Everything I’ve heard disregards any other sort of limb dominance other than what hand you write with. HOWEVER. I feel like there are a few factors that I may differ on a little bit. For one, I do write and throw with my right hand, however I have also broken my right wrist about 2-3 times and the last break was with my scaphoid which I needed surgery on. Every since if I use too much power (even 50%) it causes me a lot of pain to the point I’d probably have to forfeit from a fight, so when it come to power, I guess I changed to my left hand naturally for fighting. Second, the stance of southpaw has always felt much much more comfortable to me since I skateboard and snowboard goofy, plus my most powerful and coordinated kicking leg is my left so it feels better having it at the back.
So really what I’m asking I guess is….should I just ignore all of these factors and train orthodox since I am naturally right handed? even though switching to orthodox would hinder me and my future progress since I can’t put in as much power in my right hand as my left, and same for my legs?

My boyfriend (19M) and I (20F) have been together for a year and a half. In the beginning, when any problem arise, we'd waste no time in talking to each other about it and we'd make sure we both don't go to bed upset. The conversations would be really understanding gentle and empathetic. He'd hold my hand and wipe my tears even when we haven't fixed the issue yet. He'd waste no time to bring me in for a hug at the first sight of me crying. Sometimes he'd cry when i cry. The thoughts in my head could escape my mouth so effortlessly when he'd listen to me while rubbing my back or just physically showing me that he is with me and that we aren't against each other. We'd never be fine with prolonging our ill feelings. Even though it took us a few arguments to get to where we were, we got there eventually :]
However recently, it has just been feeling way harder to talk to him about how I feel and I think it goes both ways. Sometimes I would get upset at the tone he is speaking to me in, and he'd explain that it's just the way he speaks. At this, I'd feel bad and that I was being sensitive and feel the need to apologize. Sometimes, when i bring up a problem, the tone he speaks in would change and it would scare me. I'd start trying really hard to make sure that he knows that I'm not against him, and that I just want to fix the issue. I'd voice out my concerns and sometimes it feels like he's taking it as attacks. I voice out because I value and care about our relationship. Instead of staying quiet, I chose to speak up about what's bothering me. If the assumptions I made were wrong I'd like for him to correct me and to reassure me. But many times, he'd get upset. I would again feel really bad for speaking up, start scrambling to make it very clear that I am not trying to fight him. I use to be really blunt and comfortable with telling him things but now I find myself second guessing and feeling scared. It's very hard for me to articulate my thoughts and to explain to a manner which he'd understand and sometimes I'd talk about how i feel for a good 5 minutes to be met with 'okay' and he'd go straight to asking me why i did certain things that upset him which i have no problems with asking and holding myself accountable for. I will give my apology where it is due and I want to give him what he deserves the best I can.
Last night, I made a mistake. During a heated arguement over the phone, the pace really started to pick up and he said "I can't-". Before he could finish, I cut him off by saying "you always do this" and hung. I was scared that he was going to say he needs time and space. I ended the call because I was scared of hearing that from him so I thought I'd leave first so it would hurt less. It didn't. It was wrong and hasty of me. That night, I was having trouble trying to sleep and just cried my eyes out after hanging up. I saw that he was online on steam which i was expecting. During the argument, he told me that his friend wanted to play with him at 9 (at this point it was around almost 11) and that he'd stayed because he feels guilty and that something is holding him back. At this, I was upset because I wish he'd told me earlier and that i wish he'd said "Actually my friend asked if I wanted to play with him but I'm not going to leave until we're fine or we talk this out" instead of not leaving because he feels guilty and something was holding him back as it made me feel really sad. He replied by saying that that's exactly what went through his head, it's just that he didn't say it/ it didn't come out of him.
But back to after the call ended, I cried and cried until 5am. I saw that he was online on steam (until before 5am) and automatically assumed that he was playing with his friend which I was glad about because I felt bad for his friend and him. I texted him to apologize for how things went last night and that it was wrong of me to end the call like that with that reason. I told him that i hope he got to play with his friend with a smiley face. I wished him a goodnight and sweet dreams and i told him i hope he knows how much i love him. I apologized again and told him I had no intentions to hurt him and that i was genuinely trying really hard to keep the conversation gentle and understanding. I thanked him for wanting to talk to me before playing with his friend if he did end up doing that and how i appreciate it a lot. I also asked him to text me when he's up and and that i love him again.
He replied to me at 12:30, after or during his class. This is what he replied to me with:
im sorry things went the way it did as well and i did see your tweets, its okay. i don't know how to feel about you hanging up because you were scared id say something along the lines of that and because that youd be left alone, it feels wrong, but i appreciate you telling me that. to be truthful, i feel mentally tired and overwhelmed, and im really feeling like i need some space.
I was really sad and worried that he didn't say he loves me back even though i said it twice. But i replied to him saying i understand, and i asked him if we will be fine. I also sent him this text:
and can we please find some time, maybe not today or tomorrow, to sit down and really talk it through with an open mind and heart?
I understand that you need space and that's what I am to give you but for now, i need reassurance on these things as i really cant handle no contact without at least reassurance please :/
I saw him typing, but I didn't get a reply and it's been almost 3 hours. For context, last week he did not reply to me for almost a day after an argument. I freaked out and called him no less than 100 times, asked his friwnds and sister where he went and if he's okay. They couldn't reach him (his sister had to get him through the house phone). He finally replied to me apologizing and we talked about the issue. I decided to be honest with him and in a long paragraph told him i dont do silence really well because it feels like he doesnt care or love me enough to wonder if im doing well because i was going crazy at the silence from his end(i said more but to make things short,). It was really bad to the point where i walked outside at night to distract myself and ended upvomitting on the side of the road. He said he understands and apoligized. He said it's the worse he's handled an argument and tried really hard to assure me that he loves me and we fine and back to normal. I felt okay and relieved at that point.
But now this is happening. I feel sad because it feels like he's forgotten about what i said last week. But at the same time, I feel really conflicted and I want to give him what he needs. I would do anything for our relationsip to be better. I want him to be happy. I'm trying my very hardest to be the best partner for him. I care about and value our relationship so much, and he still hasn't given me the reassurance i need in order to feel slightly fine about the distance. I do not know why and I'm spiralling worrying about why he hasn't replied to me.
I reallly want this relationship to work I love him so much and I know he loves me too. I acknowledge that things arent the same anymore and he might need different things now. I feel the key to this is to find a balance which we're struggling with. He is my best friend and makes me feel the most comfortable. I love being in my presence and he is my best friend. I wish to spend my whole life with this boy. Please help I tried so hard to keep myself together today and broke down in class :(