My bf and I have been on and off for 5 years. He cheated on me from the beginning which set into motion cheating of my own. Years passed in a toxic cycle of on and off again, in which I hoped he would change like I had. However, my hopes came to a crashing end when he lied to me for an entire month about having having terminal cancer. I kid you not, I cried everyday for an entire month about how he told me he has terminal cancer and he would die very soon. He faked symptoms (he would shake at night, tell me he was in pain, take pain meds, and use it to guilt me about anything and everything). Only for me to find out later through his mom that he has no cancer and was simply faking it.
After this I took about 5 months for myself away from him after such a heinous lie. However, we met back up when he said he had changed. He then spent 3 months being the perfect guy and giving me everything I had waited basically 3 years to receive from him. Yet, it was hard to trust him after such a cycle of abuse and I was reluctant to just enter a relationship again. Not only this, but admittedly I was quite harsh during those 3 months despite him “trying his best to win me back”. I wasn’t loving back, I made it difficult for him to prove he had changed. Not because of malice, but because seriously how could I believe him so easily after such a bad lie.
2 weeks ago I decided to get back together with him. But when I told him this, he said he had changed his mind because of my behaviour the past 3 months and that I should’ve taken him back when I had the chance. I was extremely sad about this and essentially have begged him for two weeks to forgive me for treating him badly these 3 months, I was just wary if he had actually changed. However he says that now he wants nothing to do with me and I should never contact him again.
AITH for giving him a tough time ? Should I actually let go of this relationship I have been wanting to workout for so long? Why do I feel like it is now my fault we aren’t together after waiting years for change?

Cleaning a muzzleloader is an essential aspect of firearm maintenance that ensures reliable performance and extends the lifespan of your firearm. Whether you're a seasoned muzzleloader enthusiast or new to black powder shooting, mastering the cleaning process is key to preserving accuracy and functionality. In this comprehensive guide, we'll walk you through the step-by-step process of cleaning your muzzleloader and offer expert tips for achieving optimal results.
Understanding the Importance of Cleaning:
Muzzleloaders require thorough cleaning after each use to remove fouling, residue, and moisture that can accumulate in the barrel and action. Failure to clean your muzzleloader properly can lead to corrosion, rust, and diminished accuracy over time. Regular cleaning not only maintains the integrity of your firearm but also ensures safe operation and reliable ignition when firing.
Step-by-Step Cleaning Process:
Follow these steps to clean your muzzleloader effectively:

1. Unload the Firearm: Before cleaning your muzzleloader, ensure it is unloaded and that there is no powder or projectile in the barrel. Remove the percussion cap or primer, and visually inspect the bore to confirm it is clear.
2. Disassemble the Muzzleloader: Disassemble the muzzleloader as much as possible to access all components, including the barrel, breech plug, nipple, and ramrod. Refer to your owner's manual for specific disassembly instructions for your model.
3. Remove Fouling and Residue: Using a cleaning rod and jag, run a solvent-soaked patch through the bore to remove fouling and residue. Repeat this process multiple times until the patches come out clean. Pay special attention to the breech plug and nipple, as fouling can accumulate in these areas as well.
4. Scrub the Barrel: Use a bore brush or cleaning brush to scrub the inside of the barrel, focusing on areas with stubborn fouling or residue. Be careful not to damage the rifling or bore surfaces while scrubbing.
5. Rinse and Dry: After scrubbing the barrel, rinse it thoroughly with clean water to remove any remaining solvent or residue. Dry the barrel and components thoroughly with a clean, dry patch or cloth to prevent rust or corrosion.
6. Lubricate Moving Parts: Apply a light coat of gun oil or lubricant to the inside of the barrel, as well as to any moving parts such as the breech plug threads and action components. This helps protect against corrosion and ensures smooth operation of the firearm.
7. Reassemble the Muzzleloader: Once the barrel and components are clean and dry, reassemble the muzzleloader according to the manufacturer's instructions. Check for proper fit and function before loading or firing the firearm.

Expert Tips for Cleaning Your Muzzleloader:

• Use a bore guide to protect the muzzle and crown of the barrel while cleaning.
• Avoid using harsh chemicals or abrasive materials that can damage the barrel or bore surfaces.
• Clean your muzzleloader as soon as possible after shooting to prevent fouling from hardening and becoming more difficult to remove.
• Store your muzzleloader in a cool, dry place to prevent moisture buildup and corrosion between cleanings.
• Periodically inspect and maintain your muzzleloader to ensure it remains in optimal condition for safe and reliable shooting.

Cleaning your muzzleloader is a critical aspect of firearm maintenance that should not be overlooked. By following the step-by-step process outlined in this guide and incorporating expert tips and best practices, you can keep your muzzleloader in top condition and enjoy years of reliable performance on the range or in the field. At Marksmen Market we have all of the supplies you'll need to have your muzzleloader cleaned up in no time.

I can't stop thinking about this, and I know it basically boils down to "I prefer a certain kind of wings," but I think there is something else going on here to the point that I'm doing a post.
TL;DR: The origin of wings is in the working class, and that's what made them great, and, for lack of a better term, the gentrification of wings has made them a worse food item, or at the very least a far less accessible food item. Hear me out.
When Buffalo wings first were invented in the 1960s it was as a cheap or free bar food, using a part of the wing that was either used for making stock or thrown out. Wings were small, not much meat, lot of skin, and kind of a pain to eat. The concept of the Buffalo wing was like many peasant foods: fry the hell out of it and add sauce and it becomes delicious (pork rinds, fish and chips, etc). As they became popular through the 1990s, they remained small, a lot of skin, fried as hell, drowned in sauce, and cost about 10 cents a piece in bars. These were glory days of wings, and IMHO, the best wings still follow this tradition.
But now wings have become fancy restaurant food, taken from birds bred to have much more meat, leading to these giant wings with far lower skin to meat ratio, often cooked less and/or not fried to make them healthier or "juicier," often not sauced, and usually running about $20 for maybe 8 wings. These upscaled wings are made by people who don't appreciate the meaning or the beauty of wings. And OK, some of them are actually pretty good, but often the result is a rubbery, overpriced and inferior version of baked chicken under the branding of "wings." In an effort to make them better (bigger, meatier, juicier, healthier), restaurants removed everything that made them great, and we wing lovers are worse of for it.
Discuss.

I can't stop thinking about this, and I know it basically boils down to "I prefer a certain kind of wings," but I think there is something else going on here to the point that I'm doing a post.
TL;DR: The origin of wings is in the working class, and that's what made them great, and, for lack of a better term, the gentrification of wings has made them a worse food item, or at the very least a far less accessible food item. Hear me out.
When Buffalo wings first were invented in the 1960s it was as a cheap or free bar food, using a part of the wing that was either used for making stock or thrown out. Wings were small, not much meat, lot of skin, and kind of a pain to eat. The concept of the Buffalo wing was like many peasant foods: fry the hell out of it and add sauce and it becomes delicious (pork rinds, fish and chips, etc). As they became popular through the 1990s, they remained small, a lot of skin, fried as hell, drowned in sauce, and cost about 10 cents a piece in bars. These were glory days of wings, and IMHO, the best wings still follow this tradition.
But now wings have become fancy restaurant food, taken from birds bred to have much more meat, leading to these giant wings with far lower skin to meat ratio, often cooked less and/or not fried to make them healthier or "juicier," often not sauced, and usually running about $20 for maybe 8 wings. These upscaled wings are made by people who don't appreciate the meaning or the beauty of wings. And OK, some of them are actually pretty good, but often the result is a rubbery, overpriced and inferior version of baked chicken under the branding of "wings." In an effort to make them better (bigger, meatier, juicier, healthier), restaurants removed everything that made them great, and we wing lovers are worse of for it.
Discuss.

A British gentleman in the late 1800's was born to a poor family but through grit and determination begged, borrowed and stole his way to financial success. Always obsessed with climbing the social ladder he even courted then married a woman from a rich family. Through her family he was able to get into a very prestigious gentlemen's club where he could rub elbows with wealthiest of wealthy. He knew this was one of his best opportunities because for all his hustle he knew he wasn't what was considered "old money" and thus never able to rise higher than he was.
One night while at the club he overhears some gentleman talking. One tells a story of going on an African safari where he killed a lion, the head of which he had mounted and placed in his study. A second gentleman mentions a trip to the Yukon to investigate their gold prospecting operation and while there he downed a large elk whose antlers he mounted above the fireplace in his living room. A third gentleman tells a story about going to their estate in India where he killed a tiger from the back of an elephant and had it made into a rug he put in his bedroom.
Our British gentleman hears these stories and realizes that to keep up appearances he will need to take an excursion and down some sort of big game himself. So he makes arrangements, getting supplies and chartering a ship to Africa. Once arriving he finds a guide who speaks English and some other men to carry his belongings and they make their way into the dark jungle.
As they trek through the jungle, cutting down the heavy foliage with machetes, they begin to hear a sound in the distance. As the get further in the British gentleman begins to make out that it's the sound of drumming, and assumes that it's some local tribe having some sort of celebration, and as his companions don't seem concerned he assumes it's not something that will become an issue.
As they progress through the jungle and the day becomes late the drumming has increased in volume and intensity. After making camp and preparing their meals the Englishman is getting a bit nervous and asks the guide if the drumming is something they should be concerned with. The guide waves a hand and says "Not to worry. The only time to worry is if the drumming stops."
During the next day as they make their way through the jungle the drumming continues to intensify. By the time they make their camp on the second night the drumming has grown so loud that it's drowning out every other noise in the jungle. No birds, insects, nothing can be heard.
Very suddenly, the drumming stops, absolutely stone cold silence. The Englishman bolts up frantically grabbing the guide and asks "That's bad isn't it? You said the drumming stopping was bad!?"
The guide shakes his head and says "It's absolutely terrible. It means it's time for the accordion solo."

Hey everyone,
I'm currently working on a project where I need to deploy the RealisticVision model. I have two options in mind and I'm looking for some guidance on how to proceed:

1. Deploy on a GCP VM Instance: I have some experience with GCP, but I'm not entirely sure about the best practices for deploying a machine learning model on a VM instance and get access to in via REST API. Can anyone provide a step-by-step guide or any tips on how to efficiently deploy RealisticVision on a GCP VM?
2. Import on Model Registry: I've read that using a model registry can streamline the deployment and management process. I'm considering importing RealisticVision into a model registry on GCP. However, I'm not familiar with the process and the pros and cons of this approach.

What would be the best approach in terms of scalability, ease of management, and cost-effectiveness? Any detailed instructions, personal experiences, or resources would be greatly appreciated!

After spending hundreds of hours in the game I think I can confidently say I know what I wished the game did more of or better. Don't get me wrong, I love this game and I played it for so long but the more I just feel like there's more that could've been done. Dragon's dogma is the only game of it's like. Sure you can say it's similar to this and this but nothing really scratches that itch that dragons dogma does. I love a lot of the decisions they made with the game and the world but I'm not blind to it's flaws either. Most of the things I'll talk about has been said a million times but it really can't be understated how much more they could've done.
Gameplay
Like I said up in that paragraph no other game really scratches the itch that dragon's dogma does. Combat alone was a big selling point for me because where else will you get an ARPG where the combat feels nice and weighty without it being clunky and or it being too light and feeling more like a hack and slash combo game. It too me hits that perfect itch of being realistic but also fantasy. My only gripe with it is that it feels like a high fantasy game trying to be a dark fantasy game. It's more of a tone thing but in a world where people are able to cast meteors and tornados and jump 10 meters into the air and become a spinning ball of death the enemies you face are just grounded goblins and monsters. I feel like it's trying to be two things at once leading too the classes feeling just kind of mismatched. compare the gameplay of fighter to thief. Two close quarters classes and starting out they feel like they're on the same level somewhat but as you progress fighter just kind of remains the same while thief is over here causing explosions and flying around everywhere despite them starting on equal grounds. A more jarring example is mystic spearhand the "anime vocation" you can teleport around send out magic waves and stun enemies with a magic chargeable bolt. I have no problems with spear hand but to go from fighter a pretty grounded gameplay style to mystic spearhand where I feel like I'm playing DMC it's just kinda jarring. I like that the vocations feel unique don't get me wrong but it really just does feel weird to be a really normal guy swinging a sword around to teleporting everywhere and becoming invincible exploding man. Other than that I don't really have much else to say about the combat besides game difficulty really does affect combat a lot. As much as I like the combat even I can agree that it gets stale killing everything in 2-3 hits with no real danger. I still remember my first ogre fight since it was the first and only tough battle I had after that the game was a cake walk and I quickly shut my brain off for the majority of it.
Exploration
the world of dragons dogma is fucking beautiful. Sometimes I just walk around admiring the world they made, seeing the trees and grass sway with the wind as oxcarts and patrolling knights walk past. The only thing that can ruin it is oh right an enemy encounter every 3 mins. I Love the combat but fuck, combat every 3 mins when I just want to explore and see the world can get tiresome and just lessens the encounters to be mind numbing button mashing. not only does it lessen the combat system by just giving you too much of it but it ruins exploration by making the world feels smaller. The world is so fucking beautiful but if the only thing you really see or interact with is combat after combat you stop focusing on the world and you just look at the same goblins and lizards. One video I've been watching a lot is a dragons dogma 2 relaxing ambient music where they have scenes of the world just existing. You forget how beautiful the world that capcom created actually is because every 3 mins you just fight goblins. Just that open field of wheat outside of vernworth can give you like 50 beautiful screenshots of the world. I really wish there was a mod that would either lower enemy population count or get rid of half the enemy placements in the world because I really do just want to explore and take in the world. Another problem that DD2 has with exploration is that all the armors and weapons are in the shops. After realizing this halfway through the game I just lost like 50% of my desire to fully explore the game. If all the cool armor and weapons can just be bought what's the reason to explore caves and dungeons and complete quests? I get why they did this because if you're a thief and a quest reward or a random dungeon chest is a warrior armor then you pretty much just wasted time to get loot that doesn't match your vocation but having it all in the shop just ruins so much of the game's exploration and quests. Also if you want to start a new game I recommend you download a mod called "wild loot" on nexus. It takes all the items in the shops and just does what it says, places it into the wild. Whenever I found a cool new armor or weapon I'm always interested to see how big a difference it made rather than just buying the best set in the store.
World
I just wish there was more world building and lore to the world to explain stuff for those that truly want to know about the world. Like why don't we have the misty marshes be explained as "A long time ago a litch showed up and that's why theres so many undead and an uneazy fog around it" and if you keep exploring you can find out that oooooo the old villagers executed a wizard or priest for some reason and they placed a curse on the local area to be an undead area. I wish there were more biomes too, like wide open plains or snowy mountains. Imagine climbing a snowy mountain at night being lost in the snow storm only to see a bright yellow light off in the distant and seeing a tiny little cozy mountain village. seeing different architecture and culture from the giant stone fortress that is vernworth. Some kind of nordic (cheesy I know) wooden mead hall and all with people wearing heavy layering of furs of the loacal animals. Magic also just feels kinda out of place too. Maybe these ideas are cheesy but you're telling me that magic where you can summon litteral meteors wouldn't affect the world even a little bit? There wouldn't be some kind of magic school that teaches young mages to control such volatile and destructive magic? This brings me back to the whole "Low fantasy" trying to be "High fantasy" The world just needs more to feel alive. Like what if the elven village was more than just three circles connected to each other and instead you're able to walk up through mountain edges and actually see the elven houses up on the cliffs that you couldn't reach. There's dwarves in the game but they have no impact to the world at all. They don't even have their own place or history. You won't go down a cave and find yourself in a abandoned dwarven mine like moria and find a dragon hoarding a secret vault of treasures like a cool magical armor or weapon. It lack world building to add context to why the world is the way that it is. Things just are in this world. The original DD wasn't perfect but it tries to add context to the world, It really just needs to bake the world more.
Story
I'll keep this short we all know the story sucks, only thing I can say is, make the story about you and the pawn. We like our pawns more anyways. Make it about exploring what free will is and if pawns are even alive or something, just make us connect with our pawn. Add more scenes and flesh out the characters more. Just do better that's it. Also add more RPG mechanics. Honestly, just mix Bethesda rpg and dragons dogma and it's a perfect game for me.
Pawns
I love the pawn systems. I have my gripes with it but the main thing I want is for more pawn interaction. The only meaningful interaction is them showing you the way, the dap, and dual casting. Like why don't we have team attacks in in ff15? they tried to do it a bit with the ability to launch pawns but its lack luster and barely works. Imagine how cool it would be if you could coordinate with your archer pawn to launch them over the enemy and do a flip while raining arrows down on the enemy. Or if you're a sorcerer and have a warrior pawn that gives you a cool fist bump before taking a giant swing at a charging minotaur causing it to fall down while you have charge up a quick magic spell for a quick follow up attack. Just more interactions would've been so cool especially in combat.
Overall I loved dragons dogma. I wished it did more but it's one of my favorite games. Wish there were more games like this.

I wake up, and the first thing I see is a familiar pink puff of hair lying next to me.
It’s been about a month since me and Natsuki started dating, but even now, I still get butterflies whenever I see her.
I look at the clock.
I’m up about 30 minutes before our alarm goes off.
Today is the first day back at school, so I’m sure she won’t be happy to be reminded that alarm clocks exist.
I decide to seize the opportunity and make a special breakfast for this special day.
I very slowly ease my way out of bed, as to not wake her, and I quietly tiptoe out the door and down the stairs, before finally relaxing.
I decide a good breakfast would be something with Natsuki’s style. Something sweet…
Some fluffy pancakes with whipped cream and strawberries.
Once I make sure I have all the ingredients, I get to work.
I’ve definitely gotten better at cooking ever since I just started hanging out with her.
Even so, she can still easily cook circles around me on all accounts, especially with baking.
Luckily, this is one of the fairly few recipes I know well enough to do justice.
Half an hour passes, and I hear the familiar beeping of the alarm from upstairs.
I’m not done with breakfast yet, though. Although I’m quite comfortable with this recipe, I’m still not fast.
Luckily, the strawberries are all cut up, and I’m not skilled enough to make whipped cream, so I just have a can from the store.
All that’s left is to cook the batter into pancakes.
A few minutes pass, and I hear light stomps come down the stairs.
I turn to see Natsuki in her pink shirt and her fuzzy pajama pants covered with cats, still rubbing the sleepy from her eyes as she makes it to the bottom step.
Natsuki: “Ugh. Why do alarm clocks exist?”
MC: “Good morning to you too, cupcake.”
She sleepily comes up behind me and hugs me from behind as I flip the pancakes, practically laying on me as if I’m a second bed.
Her arms only wrap around my stomach, because of the almost foot-and-a-half I have on her.
Although she’s tired now, I know she’s been looking forward to this for a while.
Mainly just to see the other club members again.
We’ve all gotten together a few times over the summer.
But by “a few times,” I mean twice.
After last year we’ve all gotten really close, and since Natsuki’s Dad is out of the picture, she’s gotten even closer than before.
She now considers us all her family.
Natsuki: “What are you makin’, MC?”
MC: “A special day should start with a special breakfast.”
She finally let’s go of me and walks around me to look at the counter.
As she does, her mood noticeably brightens, and her eyes fully open for the first time all morning.
Natsuki: “Ooooo!”
MC: “Give it a minute, I’m almost done. I’m still not nearly as fast as you.”
Natsuki: “Well, I wasn’t the pro I am today when I first started. You’ve actually gotten really good.”
MC: “Aww, thanks cupcake.”
I bend down and give her a quick kiss.
MC: “How about you take a quick shower, and this should be ready by the time you get out.”
Natsuki: “You read my mind.”
She starts heading upstairs, but turns around at the second step.
Natsuki: “Oh, and you remember how I like mine?”
MC: “Extra whipped cream, and a cat outline of strawberries?”
Natsuki: “You’re the best, MC. I love you!”
She jogs the rest of the way up the stairs.
I sigh and smile to myself as I finish up breakfast.

I’m going to do it. If you see my other posts you’ll conclude that I’ve given this a lot of thought. I just don’t recognize myself. I am disgusted by my appearance as well as what my isolation has caused. I’m stressing loved ones out. I’m not getting better. I can’t even talk about what I am feeling without crying. I wish there was an easier way to die. I wish someone could just shake me until I’m happy again or can’t at least look at myself in the mirror. I know it doesn’t work that way. That change starts with you. I can’t get past identifying the problem. So I’m going into this attempt fully aware that I’m pathetic. I’m choosing this over facing my problems. Honestly not sure what my problems even are. I’ve let myself go and I guess I just want to say I’m sorry. I’m sorry for giving up. I’m sorry for doing this to myself when people have it worse. I’m sorry for letting the little girl inside me and those who did their best raising her down. I can’t keep living like this. I’m a waste and don’t want to waste anyone’s time anymore. Trying to kill myself has been a slow burn. I don’t think I’ve tried hard enough.

So this was in November 2023 and due to my wack ass immune system, I (15M) had gotten myself extremely sick to the point where I was vomiting almost every time I'd eat. And my body has a way of cascading things like this, so I it was no surprise when I started sickling.
I'm laying in bed, nauseous and in pain, just praying for the oxy to kick in so I can fall asleep and not deal with this hell anymore when this sharp pain starts stabbing me in my chest and I feel like I'm literally DYING. This pain I was feeling in that moment was worse than any sickle cell crisis I've ever had and I just assumed the jig was up and organ failure was imminent.
I couldn't get up from where I was laying (my mom's bed) because of the severe pain so I'm just crying so loudly and my mom wakes up annoyed and tells me to lay on my back and go back to bed but as i shift over a wave of nausea crashes over me and i begin vomiting all over my mom and her bed (woops).
Fully awake and freaking out by this point my mom picks up her phone and dials 911 for an ambulance to get me and I'm just crying like a little baby now in a pile of my own bile (too scared to eat anything because I didn't wanna barf) praying for the ambulance to get here. And after what only felt like 5 minutes, my mom runs to the front door to open it for the paramedics who lay me onto the stretcher and give me this drug I'm in too much pain to notice.
And then it calms me down. A lot. So much so that it feels like whenever I breathe, I'm breathing out all the air in my lungs and taking my first breath again like I've just been born. I vaguely feel the pain in my chest but my mind is so empty I cant even bother to think about it. I take a few deep blinks and then wake up in the ER with my mom sleeping in the chair beside my bed.
After this, it becomes a cycle of them giving me medicine, the pain subsides somewhat, and then the medicine wears off and my chest feels like it's getting knifed by a million UK roadmen. They start me off with morphine, and that doesn't do the job like it usually does, so then they give me Dilaudid AND morphine, and still yet I feel like the end is near. So they decide to pull out the big guns that worked on me when I was in the ambulance. Fentanyl.
Initially I was very skeptic and lowkey refusing treatment because of the stigma around it and the doctors reassured me over and over that it was safe and I had been given it before and blah blah blah even though these were the same doctors that would ask me how long I've had sickle cell for. But I was in so much pain that I just gave up and gave in and gave them the a-ok because their nagging was just too much.
They set me up with this little green button thing attached to my IV, that would allow me to press it whenever I felt severe and constant pain but would not allow me to exceed the "maximum dosage" they had put in place for my body. And to be completely honest this little button scared me at first. The entirety of my night nurses shift I didn't press the button once and just writhed there in the cold hospital bed because I'd rather die than willingly administer my own fentanyl.
But I wouldn't even be typing this story if I simply just hadn't pressed the button for the entire duration of my stay. It was now day 3 in the hospital and I hadn't got a single wink of sleep in the past 32 hours so I decided to press the button. It didn't hit me like it had in the ambulance, but when i tell you i relaxed, i RELAXED. I was finally able to shut my eyes and go to bed and stop myself from shaking my leg (self soothing thing I do when in pain). I woke back up to my nurse doing my 8 hour check up and for some reason, she was still bringing me morphine and Dilaudid despite me having the fentanyl push button thingy, but I was so out of it I just took the medicine so I could go back to sleep. It became I cycle of me pushing the button, falling asleep, being woken up to take additional opiates i did NOT need, then going back to bed, until early on day 5 in the hospital, my friends from school came to visit me. So obviously I try to be a good host and not to fall asleep despite me having pushed my button already for more fent (clearly addicted but oblivious because of this phantom pain my body is forcing me to experience) and coincidentally as my friends are still here, my nurse comes in for the 8 hour check up and gives me the Dilaudid and morphine again. I take the medicine and I look down at my green button because I'm not sure i've been awake this long in days and I see its glowing again so I press it.
bad idea.
I'm talking to my friends but something seems off, their voices seem so far away and there is black dots clouding my vision, I of course am so out of it that I somehow don't see any issue with these two things until I realized I hadn't said a word in like 2 minutes. Matter of fact, I hadn't even spoken for 2 minutes. My eyes go wide because I can feel my vision fading, but for some odd reason it was all black except a tiny pinhole in the center of my vision. I hear this faraway annoying beeping that I realize is the pulse-ox thing going kookoo bananas because I haven't breathed in so long and I see shapes moving around and my friends running to the hallway to get me help and all I can focus on is "If I'm not breathing, why doesn't it hurt?"
The nurses rush in and can clearly tell I'm overdosing so they put an oxygen mask over my head and say "Can somebody give him some Narcan?" and I'm laying here spectating what's going on to my own body from inside of my head wondering "I wonder what narcan is"
WELL I SURE KNOW NOW
The nurses push the Narcan in through my oxygen mask and I can suddenly hear everything perfectly. I say "woah" and then my entire body gets a flash of heat all over so I jolt up and say "WOAH" again and I look to the left to see like 6 nurses with 3 of them doing something with my arm that I obviously just messed up. But then the heat is gone, replaced by this freezing cold feeling all over and INSIDE my body. I can feel every one of my organs touching each other and they all feel cold and I just feel nauseous. By this point i was just in agony. It wasn't like any pain I've ever felt before I felt like not only was I gonna die, but it was gonna be painful and I'd feel each individual organ dying from inside my body because of how hypersensitive I was to everything around me. I could feel the scratchy hospital blanket and the way the grip of the hospital sock felt against the bed and it was all just too much for me and my head cocked straight up and i began vomiting so much liquid it was scary to watch. Feeling each chunk of food run down my throat was a sensory nightmare and it caused me to KEEP VOMITING and every time I'd move one of my limbs, it would completely jerk itself all the way to a full extended position which would shake my body and all my senses would be on fire and I'd cock my head back and continue vomiting. This was a pediatric hospital so the nurses had never dealt with anything this severe before so they were all just freaking out because I was actually tweaking so hard and I had knocked over everything they had put on my bed to help me. In addition to all this mess, I'd torn out my IV and started bleeding all over the sheets and the smell of barf mixed with blood was just such a strong smell I had continued barfing onto myself. My entire being felt cold inside and out so I was trying profusely to wrap myself in a cocoon but the nurses were so fixated on my blanket being covered in vomit and me like "contaminating myself" but I did not give a single fuck bro I was in so much pain and was so cold the only thought on my mind was the fetal position, and a cocoon. two nurses jammed those tubes that they have at the dentists office to suck your saliva down my throat so I didn't continue choking on my vomit, while the other 4 removed the fitted sheet from the bed trying their best not to interfere with my tweakage.
After they removed the sheet I had laid down and then I felt my organs shift in my body so I began vomiting again because anytime I sensed a new sensation, the big kahuna of nausea would hit me. I threw up onto the plasticky cover that goes over the mattress of the hospital bed but at this point there was only like so much left to throw up so a nurse wiped it away with an alcohol wipe. And the SMELL of that wipe gave me such sensory overload that I began crying to the point of basically screaming. As I shut my eyes really hard praying I'd fall asleep and escape the pain and coldness of my insides.
And the weird thing about all this is, I was there the whole time, y'know? Like I felt perfectly conscious throughout the entire process of being Narc'ed. I had no control over my body and anything I did, it just felt instinctual and had no thought behind it, but I was still actively thinking throughout all of it. I felt shame, embarresement, surprise, all like I was watching a movie. Except it was one of those 4D movie theaters where you can feel whatever is happening on screen, but not control it.
Eventually sleep overcame me and I woke up in the ICU with like 40 million wires attached to me a heating pack over my belly, and these bags around my legs that would inflate and deflate over and over. And all I could think in my head, was thank GOD it was over.
I had ended up getting myself a bone eating staph infection because some of my vomit got into the IV hole I'd torn out (I see why there were trying to take the blanket off) and ended up having to stay in the hospital for 10 more days so they could give me heavy antibiotics,, and had to do an additional 5 days at home self administering the medicine through a PIC line that went all the way from my wrist into my heart (it was so gross because they kept me awake while they removed it and it felt so weird).
A few weeks later the hospital called us back and apologized but they were using so much avoidant language and deflecting blame off of themselves so hard that it was pathetic to watch. Like you gave a 15 year old kid fentanyl through a SELF REGULATED SYSTEM and didn't expect the worst? Especially since I was being given Dilaudid and morphine on top of the fent? Get out my face with that smh.

ALL CHARACTERS AND PARTNERS ARE 18+.
Hi there! I’m 26, central US timezone, and female! Title is self explanatory. Looking for roleplay between a female F1 driver and her team principal. Also willing to switch your character’s role to mechanic, press officer, etc. Looking for lots of drama and romance. Drama between the media, the team, and fans as their relationship grows more and more off track and gets exposed to the real world.
THIS IS SAFE FOR WORK ONLY.
Message me with your age, timezone (US Timezones or similar are preferred), and a sample of your writing!
Partner requirements: must be 23-35 - Must play male (IRL gender doesn’t matter)- write in third person - at least two paragraphs - I only write on Discord - must be able to post once a day to every other day. Communication is key, please let me know if you’re going to be busy for longer than a day or two or if you’re no longer interested. NO AI ART OR WRITING.
All characters are 18+
Below is a sample starter if you want to use it for your sample as well! Also included after it is my character description. Team can also change!
This was possibly the most nerve wracking qualifying morning that Eliza had ever faced before. Media day and practices had already been quite overwhelming. Every news outlet wanted to talk to her, about her, and then there were all the brand and team promotions on top of what she was actually there to do. Practices had gone alright, maybe not the best, but they certainly weren’t the worst. Yet Eliza knew she could do better. Maybe it was the nerves or how exhausted she’s been feeling lately, but she needed to shake it off. People were already starting to doubt her and question the team for her joining. She needed to prove herself in this qualifying session and the race.
But first was more time with the media. It was a long morning of getting herself all dolled up. She hadn’t shown up to the paddock wearing anything but something fashionable. She was treating her entrances like a runway, similar to Lewis Hamilton, but she tried to keep it within team colors always wearing something red or with the logo. This time she opted for an all black outfit with some red and gold jewelry pieces. Her hair was straighter and her makeup done lightly, a hint of a pastel papaya colored her eyes.
Once she was done, it was hopping into her car and being driven to the track by a good friend. Alexa happily signed things once she got out of the car and made her way into the paddock, quickly scanning her badge and smiling to all the photographers that snapped her entrance as she made her way to the Ferrari hospitality for her schedule.
Character Description
Name: Eliza Conners
Occupation: Driver for Ferrari
Age: 21
Date of birth: April 4th
Gender: Female
Sexuality: Straight
Race: British/Swedish
Physical Appearence
Height: 5’3"
Weight: 115 lbs
Eye colour: Ocean blue
Skin colour: Fai Warm Alabaster
Hair colour: blonde
Hair style: long, mid back
Piercings: basic ears
Spoiled, dramatic, sassy, used to getting what she wants, loves all the attention being on her, hosts a mean dinner party, gives ‘The Man’ by Taylor Swift energy
Personal Sponsors: Victoria’s Secret, Dior, Chanel, Charolette Tilbury

Heyo hi!
I've been away from reddit for a little while as I needed to deal with some personal stuff but am once again on the lookout for someone/some people who I can hang with every now and again! I'll jot down my hobbies here and if they resonate/match with yours feel free to drop me a DM! :))
So, here goes:
- Music ~ I play the piano & guitar!, currently learning to sing, still a loooooong way to go though!
- Dance/Fitness ~ I've been trying to get into modern dances like hip hop/street popping styles :D
- Skincare/Fashion ~ Any fashion-fanatics would totally be welcome as I'm trying a big restyle currently, currently working on different hairstyles and outfit designs!! Possibly getting some curly hair into my straight hair soon!
- Video Games ~ I do like to play games every so often, primarily on PC but I do have other consoles too!
- Language Learning ~ Been learning Korean and trying to learn other languages recently too - any tips/guidance or just generic conversations in languages besides English are super welcome
- Cooking/Baking ~ I love baking too, very therapeutic which brings me onto my other hobby:
- Coffee/Drinks ~ I love to make and explore different types of coffee, recently made my own boba tea also :) would looove some tips on how to make my coffees extra creamy!
I do have other hobbies but I'd say the above are probably all my main ones :) I will say though, I am from the UK but my sleep schedule can be pretty scuffed so I'm happy to chat to people from anywhere in the world :)
If anything mentioned takes your interest, drop me a DM and see if we vibe? I do use discord primarily so it's preferred and please be 18+ annd finallyyy, please do not spam me if I don't reply in 15 seconds...!! I will try my best to get back to everyone <3

Hi! So im a pgy-2 in Urology in France. To summarize my experience so far: Ive been a slave (like surely most of us feel), worked my ass off. I do 90-100h/week, somedays with 33h shifts. My department consists of 16 urologists. There are two women that were one of the first women to be residents there. One (my tutor) is two years older than the other. There was a woman in the middle of the two but the younger one "surpassed" her and I dont know what happened but the older one has told me that she convinced my boss to let her go else where. This woman works in another hospital and hates my department.
Also there has been drama even between these two ladies. When the older one got pregnant and came back to work, she began operating again and in a case the patient died because a Vessel lesion that she couldnt repair.the younger one said behind her back: see? "You cant Just stop working and come back because your skills would be off. Females surgeon have to be comited to their career and not have children.". She began telling her boss about the older one mistakes, printing in papers what the other wrote in consult and the boss would reprimand her. The older one (my tutor) got into depression. Because they need support from each other because they are the Best surgeon on the team they get along now. Also: all the urologists younger than the younger woman didnt prospere (they didnt let them do surgery...) and only do consults with an ocasional turb.
So, im starting to do more surgically (previously i was a floor, emergencies and ultrasound slave lol) and my tutor is súper positive and says that im very smart and she wants to progress in oncourology and is letting me (female) and an older male resident do a lot of procedures. When im with other attendings everything goes well (im not perfect, im starting, but they are normal People and understand and support me). This younger female attending however is súper pissed when im with her in the op room and Ive seen that she blames the helping resident for her mistakes like: YOY PERFORED THE RECTUM BECAUSE YOU ARE HARSH (she perfored it herself... That was with another resident).
Today i had a robotic prostatectomy with her and similar things happened, she couldnt stop screaming the entire surgery and when it finished she went to my tutor and badmouthed me (my tutor told me she remembered her of mistakes ive done and told her i didnt listen to her during the procedure). I did listen to her the whole time and followed her instructions. My boss (which previously had been amazing with me) now looks and speaks at me badly. He has given me harsh quarrels the last weeks about cases and im sure she has told him. In one of these cases i said that patient is very aggresive when he comes to the clínic and she said That patient has told me a doctor treated him badly...... With a smug face. I told her did he mean me? And she nodded smugly...
How do you handle work place toxicity that tries to belittle/destroy you? Im scared of badmouthing and rumors. Im keeping a low profile but even so she doesnt stop..
Ps: i was so scared during the prostatectomy because i thought how she was blaming everything on me (she ripped the urethral and said it was me) that if some serious complication arised (dead, rectum lesion ...) that she would blame it on me and I would be destroyed forever...
I love my speciality but im currently thinking of finishing residency how i can and switch hospital because i dont think i could work with this person.

Link for all the chapters available here: Engines of Arachnea on Royal Road
Having said his piece, Rene had expected the woman to accept her role as a prisoner of the Fleet. But no sooner had he taken his knee of her back than she was at him again, rolling over and cursing as she tried to spit him on her claws. Training kicked in and Rene applied the wrestling component of his hand-to-hand combat course. He secured underhooks with his arms, locking them together with his hands and hugging her tight from behind. Zildiz bucked and twisted around in a futile attempt to make room for her blades, even managing to get one of her knees beneath her and push off the ground. Rene allowed her to gain her feet, cunningly using the opening to slip the loop of his encircling arms around her waist. Now in complete control of her center of gravity, Rene swung his leg out and arched his back, heaving her up and over like a sack of turnips in a textbook suplex. A fraction of a second before he smashed the top of her skull into the hard ground, he remembered that he was supposed to keep prisoners alive and preferably not in a vegetative state, and so he cushioned the fall with his own body, falling on his side to increase surface area and dissipate the force.
Zildiz was caught totally by surprise. Unlike Rene she had neglected to tuck in her chin before the moment of impact, a vital detail which was one of the first things a recruit was taught to do on the mats.
“Oof!” she said as all the breath slammed out of her by the throw. Rene felt her body go limp as her dazed senses tried to adjust to the violent change of orientation. He took advantage of this moment of weakness and looped his legs around her body, locking his ankles together to form a full body triangle. His left forearm punched up and took her neck in a rear naked choke, a suffocating vise formed by the insides of his elbow crushing her windpipe and carotid arteries.
“I warned you,” he told her. His choking hand grabbed the inside of his other elbow, right forearm sneaking behind her neck and under his armpit, tightening the garrote even further.
“Had enough?”
“Hrrnnkk…” Zildiz choked. She lifted an arm and slid back the blade until it was the length of a finger, deliberately giving Rene the universal gesture to go and fornicate with himself, before sheathing the claw entirely and aiming her fist at him over her shoulder.
Rene ducked as the blade shot out again, only just avoiding it going through his eye socket and into his brain. As it was, it only nicked his temple, sending warm lines of blood trickling down his visor. Rene hugged her even tighter, constricting the chokehold until he heard her breathing reduced to an agonized wheeze. He throttled her until she stopped moving, her struggles weakening until she went completely lax. Then he held the choke for exactly three seconds longer, counting carefully to avoid giving her lasting brain damage. He let go and was relieved to hear her snoring faintly. Gently rolling her onto her back so she didn’t suffocate in the dirt, Rene cast about for a means to secure his prisoner. He had only a few seconds before she regained consciousness. Quickly he cut some vines from the surrounding trees and knotted them into a crude rope. He flipped her back over again and tied her hands at the wrists and elbows. He had no illusions that it would hold her for long. He tied her wings together at their bases for good measure. She had two sets of them, but the larger pair was missing one of its partners that had been torn off at the socket to reveal a gaping wound. They were wondrously tough membranes considering how thin and flexible they were, as sturdy as ultrapod leather. Rene looked over his work and loosened it a bit so as not to cut off the circulation in her arms. It wasn’t bad for something done on the fly. Then again, he’d been playing this whole thing by ear ever since the ambush that had cut his unit to pieces. Ye gods, but that whole experience felt like a lifetime ago. He had not expected to ever use that component of his hand-to-hand training designed for fighting human opponents. Of course, he’d helped put down a fair share of civil unrest in his time, but even during the worst of the food riots in Mound Ulysses he’d never so much as given a person a light shove. The civilians knew better than to antagonize a battalion of the Fleet’s finest over something as routine and reoccurring as a government rationing in the face of crop failure.
He felt quite bad about having to roughhouse the woman, that is, until she sat up awake and glowered hatefully at him, coughing and retching.
“Don’t,” he pleaded with her in exasperation as she gave him the old stink eye, “I don’t want to fight you again.”
“Why?” she spat defiantly, “Afraid you’d lose?”
“Uh huh,” Rene grunted, amused and even a little impressed by her spunk. She couldn’t have weighed more than sixty kilos soaking wet and was at least half a foot shorter than him even with that exomorph of hers, but this woman was all fight and no quit. She would have to be, living on the surface world and facing these abominations day after day. Rene looked at the dismembered corpses of the black-furred devils and had a sudden jolt of inspiration. As Zildiz tested the strength of her restraints Rene went over to the monster he had chopped to bits and poked the misshapen hump on its back, which had excreted thick ribbons of silk at the moment of death. Feeling more than a little squeamish, Rene pulled on the threads of silk. He had only meant to collect two or three meters of the material, but more and more of the stuff kept unwinding out its glands like a handkerchief from a magician’s pocket. Eventually his hands became enmeshed in the horrid stuff and he had to struggle like the dickens to unstick himself and scrape it off onto a bush where it stuck like a lumpy hammock. Remembering how his enemy had plugged the stab wound in its gut, Rene snapped off a twig and curled it into the white mess like those vendors at the fairs did with candy cloud treats, ending up with a spool of silk. He applied it to the cut on his temple by winding it around his head like a bandage, and was gratified when it stopped the bleeding almost immediately. He heard the rustle of dead leaves and turned around to find Zildiz furtively attempting to sidle away from him.
“Don’t even try it,” he told her, “Or I’ll run you down and knock you senseless. I’m taking you back to civilization. The Fleet needs to know what it’s up against out here, and you’re a veritable trove of information.”
Zildiz squatted back down and stared at him, simmering with resentment. Rene shook his head and continued his work, moving on to the monster that had been the first to die at the woman’s hands. Cutting open its hump, Rene was rewarded with a dense lump of thread still packed inside its spinneret. He took another twig and spooled it in, then wrapped the bundle of silk in a large leaf.
A leg twitched of its own accord. Rene nearly dropped the bundle as he sprang back, sword upraised. The devil’s limbs began doing a tap dance and Rene relaxed a bit, recognizing it as the onset of rigor mortis. The side of its face was split open and hanging loosely by a strap of flesh. Struck by a nagging suspicion, Rene stooped down and peeled off the segments of its head, holding the edge of his sword against its neck to decapitate it in the event that it proved too lively for his liking.
The musculature and armor tore away just like it had with Zildiz’s helm, and for the second time that night he found himself staring into the face of another living human being. Only this time it was a man whose face was utterly disfigured, a perversion of the basic form. In the place of his lower jaw were fingerlike protrusions of gummy tissue and exposed nerve endings. His nose cartilage was likewise missing, leaving only a pair of holes dribbling with snot. The man blinked, and glassy eyes with almost no whites at their edges fixed Rene in their gaze.
“Kill…me…” the man whispered.
Rene began to shake uncontrollably, wiping a trembling hand across his mouth as he was forced to consider the carnage he’d just wrought in a new and horrifying light. These weren’t three dead monsters littering the jungle floor; these were three dead men, and some of them he had killed himself.
“Kill me!” the man begged him. He was young, barely Rene’s age, his smooth skin untroubled by the wrinkles of age and worry. He had clear brown pupils and dark, expressive brows. If it weren’t for all the rest of him, Rene might’ve mistaken him for a fresh-faced recruit at the academy, or a paperboy climbing up the terraced apartments of inner hive to deliver news of the Fleet’s latest victory.
On unsteady legs Rene staggered back to Zildiz’s side and away from the awful truth he had uncovered.
“Something the matter?” Zildiz asked in a gleeful tone, “Feeling a little worse for wear, are we?”
“Shut it,” Rene said distantly. He dragged Zildiz to her feet and began winding the silk around her wrists, layering them over thick and tying them off with a simple knot. He kept the vines on her for added insurance and told her to start walking.
“Where to?” she demanded.
“I’m not feeding you to my children, if that’s what you’re asking,” he muttered, “I don’t have any to begin with, and even if I did, I sure as hell wouldn’t raise them to be cannibals.”
Zildiz didn’t move, so Rene grabbed her and frog marched her away. He had no real destination in mind—he just had to get away from this place and the bodies he’d made. Zildiz rounded on Rene, saying:
“Aren’t you going to deal with him? I only severed his neural connection to paralyze his exomorph. He’s still very much alive.”
“No!” Rene yelled, “That’s not how I—how people do things. Almighty ancestors, is that so hard for you to grasp?”
“Yes,” Zildiz replied quite candidly.
“He’s a living, breathing human being. I don’t know if you’ve heard, but those are pretty rare on Arachnea and worth keeping around.”
“No. He is a Leaper. After extracting your gilt helix, he and his packmates would devoured you right then and there.”
“That’s why you saved me, isn’t it? So they couldn’t obtain this shiny helix thing?”
Zildiz ignored his question, continuing:
“If you leave him here, at best he will die of exposure. At worst, his tribe will come looking for him, and if they find him, they will run us down and kill us anyway.”
Rene bit his lip. She spoke the truth and they both knew it. But after all this world had already taken from him, there remained one thing which he refused to part with. And Rene knew that if he gave in now and took the expedient option—the sensible option—he would be surrendering it forever.
“Sorry,” he said finally, “That’s against the rules.”
He dragged Zildiz over to the Leaper and spoke to him, saying:
“I won’t kill you. I’m not about to eat you either, so you can stop begging for a quick death. As long as you tell me what I want to know, we’ll leave you here and go our separate ways. I might even patch your wounds if you’re cooperative. Does that strike you as a fair bargain?”
The Leaper met this pronouncement with a look of utter perplexity that mirrored the one on Zildiz’s face.
“I’ll take that silence as a yes,” Rene said impatiently, “You’ll begin by telling me your name.”
“Kryptusshh,” the Leaper said slowly, as if not daring to hope.
“Very good. Are there any more of your people out there, Kryptus?”
“Why sshhould I trusht you? I would only be dooming more of my kindred, and there issh no certainty you would not kill me afterwardssh.”
“It’s a chance you have to take,” Rene shrugged, “Either that, or I’ll let this woman do as she pleases with you. And just between you and me,” he said in a loud stage whisper, “She doesn’t seem all that fond of your sort.”
Zildiz and Kryptus locked eyes with each other. Rene could almost feel the waves of hatred coming off her as she bristled, every tendon in her body tensing expectantly. Kryptus must have seen something he didn’t like, for he looked away and said:
“I am a warrior of the Weeping Vipersh. We are roughly eleven hundred sshtrong. One tenth of that number are bravesshh like me.”
“He lies,” Zildiz said, baring her teeth in a snarl, “That is less than half their true strength. He does not count the adolescents and the old loom-mothers, who are the deadliest of their kind.”
“Three hundred, then, if they are consshidered,” Kryptman quickly admitted, “Your pardon, merciful one.”
“I’ll excuse your forgetfulness just this once,” Rene warned, “But your memory better not fail you again.”
He questioned the Leaper closely. Kryptus claimed that only he and his pack had seen the safety pod’s crash landing, and that they had told no one else as they wished to claim the great prize all for themselves. The Weeping Vipers were the largest tribe in the rainforest and were always looking for an advantage over their numerous and belligerent neighbors. Apparently Kryptus had hoped to gain a modicum of the Divine Engine’s power by extracting something called a ‘gilt helix’ from Rene’s blood.
“Jussht one sample would have shatishfied uss,” Kryptus swore, “Then we would have taken you back to the Loom alive.”
“I’m sure nothing would’ve pleased you better,” Rene said wryly, all too cognizant of Zildiz’s earlier assumption that he planned to feed her to the Fleet’s youth.
Rene learned from Kryptus that the Divine Engine had ignited a blazing wildfire that was swiftly spreading north and west. The tribes would likely have noticed it by now, and would all be sending braves in a joint effort to douse the flames. For some reason all the Leapers felt collectively responsible for the wellbeing of the region, and could not allow it to come to harm for fear of dire repercussions.
“Last question. Is anyone going to come looking for you?”
“Not till the morning.”
“Good!” said Zildiz, breaking out of Rene’s grip and aiming a vicious kick at the side of the Leaper’s head. Rene barely caught her and yanked her back, shouting:
“Blood and thunder, woman! Is there nothing you won’t do to piss me off?”
“Are you insane? You cannot possibly mean to leave him alive!” the Gallivant hissed.
“That’s exactly what I’m going to do. Now come here!”
Rene took her by the elbow and pulled her forward, leaving Kryptus where he lay.
“You promished you would tend to my woundssh!” the Leaper cried after them.
“Don’t push your luck!” Rene said over his shoulder, “Anyone who follows us will meet the same end as your friends.”
He and his prisoner went tramping off into the night, Zildiz raging at him all the while.
“Fool! We will both come to regret that decision!”
“You’re probably right,” Rene had to agree.
“Then why did you do it?”
“For the same reason I’m letting you strut around and screech into my ear. What can I say? I’m a conversationalist.”
Link for all the chapters available here: Engines of Arachnea on Royal Road

I am not the OOP. The OOP is u/ThrowRASadsadboon posting in relationship_advice
Concluded as per OOP
1 update - Medium
Original - 17th February 2024
Update - 23rd February 2024
Previous BORU is here
1 New Update
Update 2 - 15th May 2024
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I (29M) lost my wife three years ago. Started dating again, and new girlfriend (32F) wants to visit my wife's grave.
​
I am one of many who lost someone in that damn 2020. She was my world and we had our future all set up, she wanted children too by 2021, and then she was gone.
I felt I had lost all sense of purpose and after an agonizing year, moved away - not too far, but not close either. I didn't feel like I could breathe in that town. Still, every Saturday I get back and visit her resting place.
I just functioned for about two years - I am not depressed or anything like that, but I just functioned. Until I met who we will call Ada last year.
We started talking and hanging out together. She can be a bit haughty with people she doesn't know well but I was surprised to find out how sweet and kind she is under the ice. She gave me something to look forward to again. She likes to do most of the talking herself, which is fine with me because I never know what to say.
She knows everything about my wife, and this didn't discourage her. She knows I am doing therapy and still mourning, but she never left me alone. I asked her to tell me if anything I do or say makes her feel uncomfortable or like she's not a priority - she said that as of now I am doing nothing of the sort. She knows what I do every Saturday morning, and never objected to it. But today she said she would like to "meet her", as in accompany me in visiting her grave.
I feel conflicted about this. On one hand I respect and feel touched by her wish, on other it feels... weird, for a guy to take the new girlfriend where the first wife is buried. How should I approach this? Is it too soon, should I ask her to wait for that?
TL;DR I am a widower who started dating. Girlfriend wants to visit my wife's grave and I have conflicting feelings about it.
​
Comments
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jiddlyjidson
Waiting is fine if you are not ready. It feels like she wants to support you in something that was (and am sure still is) pretty traumatic. Joining you to visit isn’t about meeting your wife, it’s about being with you whilst you are still grieving/recovering.
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Inner-Pianist-7628
Came here to say this last part. She genuinely wants to be apart of your life and support you bro. This is actually kind of beautiful. On the flip note it’s totally understandable that you might not be ready though.

OOP: Thank you. I admit that one of my biggest concerns is that I don't want to take advantage of her goodwill, even unintentionally. Her kindness and patience are near infinite, but I told her I don't want our relationship to be all about this, it would not be fair for her. She reassured me she doesn't feel taken advantage of and that I do a lot to make her feel loved and appreciated for who she is, but at the same she recognizes this is a part of me she's willing to accept to be with me.
To clarify, I don't do anything dramatic like talking to her grave or crying my eyes out when I visit. I just keep it clean, water the flowers and replace the dead ones, check the wear and tear on the stone, and clean the glass with her picture.

​
Update - 6 days later
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Some additional info and an update.
Some redditors and some people around us were worried that my relationship with Ada is just a rebound. I admit is something that I too was worried about, and Ada told me she didn't have long lasting expectations at first.
We began dating in April 2023, but as things progressed and she saw my intentions are serious and I'm committed, her doubts about me were gone. She says we are made of the same stuff - we are two loyal, committed and hardworking people and she wants a future with me. And so do I. We are looking for a new place to share and I'm looking for the ring to make my proposal.
I admit that one of my biggest concerns is that I don't want to take advantage of her goodwill, even unintentionally. Her kindness and patience are near infinite, but I told her I don't want our relationship to be all about my past, it would not be fair for her. She reassured me she doesn't feel taken advantage of and that I do a lot to make her feel loved and appreciated for who she is, but at the same she recognizes this is a part of me she's willing to accept to be with me.
To my surprise, everyone approves of us - my parents, Ada's parents, and my late wife's mother. We never got any backlash.
​
On the update. I talked about this with my therapist. She feels that based on what she knows about Ada and the way she always behaved about this, that bringing her to my wife's grave will probably be a positive thing. So I told Ada that if she feels like it, I'd be glad to take her with me this Saturday. She was happy to hear this, she usually works on Saturday mornings, but said she'd take the morning off for me.
However I had unexpected things come up for tomorrow - I have to cover for a sick coworker, which means I'll be taken all morning and great part of the afternoon. It happens, and when it happens I either go on Friday or Sunday. I decided to go this afternoon (we are in Europe, it's evening here) and asked Ada if she wanted to come along - and she readily agreed.
We didn't talk much during the drive. When we arrived, we made our way to my wife's tombstone and I just said "Well, here she is". I fetched the water for the flowers and start my usual routine, Ada just crouched as if to examine it. Then she just helped me with the caretaking routine, removing the dead leaves and flowers, and cleaning the picture and the light. We then took a walk around the cemetery (might sound weird, but it's not unusual here as many cemeteries double as parks here) then sat outside for a smoke before the drive back.
We talked a bit, and Ada, who's quite the stoic, got a little emotional. She was happy I had let her in on such what for me is a particularly intimate and sacred place, but also shaken because after all the talking we had done of my late wife she subconsciously thought of her as someone she'd want to meet and be friends with, but seeing the grave reminded and cemented the fact that this amazing woman is gone. It was a bit of shaking for me too seeing her tearing up, since she's the most stoic woman I've ever met, but also made me think how this woman is a rare gem.
I don't doubt that in different circumstances, my late wife and Ada would have been great friends. And I'm a very lucky guy for finding not one, but two amazing woman which gave and still give my life meaning every day.
TL;DR I brought my girlfriend to my late wife's grave, and things went well.
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Comments
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TBagger1234
I’ve read so many posts here about people who have lost their partner and their new partner wants them to remove all memory of them as if they aren’t an important part of your life story. Ada is a good one. All the best OP!

OOP: Yeah, I read some of those posts too. Stuff of nightmares.

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grandmasvilla
You are blessed to meet someone like Ada who is kind and understanding. Show your appreciation for her with your love and make her happy for the rest of your life. All the best.

OOP: Naturally, my friend. Making her happy and smile every day is my top priority. She gave me another chance at life.

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Update 2 - 3 months later
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Hello, I hope everyone here is well.
For a couple of months I had forgotten about this account, but I gave it a look the other day and read again all the beautiful comments and some very touching private messages. Again, thank you all for your interest and kindness.
Ada and I are doing well and we have found a place to move in together. If all goes well we'll be living together by July. Last month was the fourth anniversary of my late wife's passing. Ada was with me and held my hand.
I was a bit depressed like I am always am on our anniversaries, but Ada made it better. Sometimes I dream about my late wife, her coming back home, but either she never talks or I never remember what she says. However, when I dreamed her that night, in the dream there was Ada as well and they met each other. She was very happy about us and told me she's happy Ada is there for me when she can't.
I talked with Ada about the dream, and we agreed it's my brain telling me it's okay to move on. I'll always love, honor and cherish my late wife, but now there is Ada who is giving me so much and deserves to be happy, to be loved and honored the way she deserves. And I don't intend to disappoint her.
As an aside, Ada also said that who knows, it could also be the spirit of my late wife visiting me in the only place she can, my dreams. She says we can see like that if we take the spiritual approach. Honestly I wouldn't know, death is one of those mysteries only those who passed have discovered, and they can't tell us.
We are doing well. We have also managed to program our first true vacation together and I was proud to formally introduce Ada as my partner when my company's CEO invited me to dinner with her husband.
It's an exciting new journey and we are thrilled to see where it will lead us. We are a team and we have a game plan.
TL;dr Things are good.
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Comments
BigIronBruce

I talked with Ada about the dream, and we agreed it's my brain telling me it's okay to move on

This is very sweet but I want to caution you that grief is complicated and recovery does not always happen in a straight line. You might sometimes have really complicated feelings of betrayal or heartbreak in the future and that's normal.
It's ok to move on, I'm sure your wife would want that but be careful of interpreting dreams.
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mak_zaddy
I love a great Reddit update. A true palate cleanser.
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I am not the OOP. Please do not harass the OOP.

Like it's better than I expected from Drake, it's got a good beat and a couple bars are funny. “Kendrick just opened his mouth, someone go hand him a Grammy right now”, the short jokes "back against the curb”. But as a complete song, still sucks.
"I gotta go bad. I gotta go bad" “I really wanted to keep this PG" This is the lamest shit I've ever heard. Nickelodeon ass rapper.
Then he spends most of the song talking about other people. You're not tough for beefing with Pharrell and The Weekend. You got bars for Miley Cryus next? It's weak shit too. “Hey Pharrell, I bought your chains. Hey Weekend, how come I'm always hearing your music at the gay bars?” Maybe Drake's going to try the Kevin Spacey defense.
Even his Kendrick stuff is all over the place. Kendrick wants to be white? Kendrick Lamar? But he also doesn't want to be seen with anyone that isn't blacker than him? “Why don't you post more pictures of your kid" would be a weird line even without the pedo shit hanging over him, but also Kendrick's kid is on the cover of the last album. Then later he calls his son light skinned? What the fuck are you even on about? Baby Keem wrote all your best stuff? As an eight yearold? Drake needs to keep that “you're so mature for age" to the dms. "Get on pop records and rap for the whites”. That would hit if it was coming from literally anyone other than fucking Drake. Also rhyming white with whites, really breaking that pen out. He goes in hard on the Dave Free stuff, which he's already walked back. And the domestic violence allegations don't really stick when every other line is such thin bullshit. I'm not saying every bar has to draw blood, but Drake's batting average is lower than Jordan's here.
“Shake that ass for Free Well not that kind of free, I'm talking about my n– Dave” -Hey, Drake, they're not slow
Then, and this me just not being a Drake fan, but his delivery is so flat. He's swallowing half these jokes. His shit is sleepy. I space out listening to it. Euphoria is a really dense song, but it's all engaging and memorable because of how Kendrick twists his voice around
“You might pop ass with em" "What is it? The braids?” “Let me see you pusha T" "Some shit just cringeworthy, it don't even have to be deep I guess” “Givin him tools to walk through life, like day to day- know nothin bout dat” “I be at New Ho King eatin fried rice with a dip sauce and a blammy, crodie Tell me you're cheesin, fam” “OoOoooO"
Drake is so monotone. He's like when you see an actor rapping on a TV show and you're like, that's pretty good for Anne Hathaway. Not gonna buy the album though. The only line he plays with at all is Dave Freeeeee, and I'm guessing he wishes he didn't do that.
And specifically as a response to Euphoria? Euphoria changes up so much, builds momentum through the song, such an elegant piece of work. Family Matters tries to follow by changing the beat up, but it's janky. It feels like three mediocre songs stitched together, and the second one is a skip. I feel like people are grading on a curve because his next one was the biggest self own in music history, but this shit stinks too.

T/W: Mentions of Suicide and Schizophrenia.
It was the year of 2022, my personal life and family issues have gotten worse, for my mother who suffers from schizophrenia and depression went back to my grandmother's place because she couldn't handle the stress that comes with taking care of a household just a month before my 12th boards were going to start.
My heart ached for her but I knew with my exans a month away and other responsibilities of the household falling back on my shoulders, I was incapable of takinh care of her mentally.
I still casually chuckle at the thought of how I skipped my history pre-boards because she was feeling sick and suicidal and had done things before when I was younger so my heart did not dare leave her alone. My little sister who was only 10 at that time was genuinely scared and worried, would cry non stop. She said "Didi, is it because of me that mumma is going to die? Am I really that bad?" My heart broke that day.
Skip to 2 months later, the results came and the best of four marks was decent but not good enough to get me a college solely on merit. But I was fine, my aim was to prepare for CLAT anyway and so I did. Took a risk, conviced my father for a drop year and prepared diligently for 3 months straight but luck was not by my side, and my health started deteriorating- stomach issues, weak immue system, anaemia, fatal cramps from periods. Every month I felt like I was on a war against myself and hence, my motivation to study collapsed.
After my results my mother was back at our place because she couldn't live with her parents anymore, she missed us and was stubborn at how she was better and would like to be back and be a mother to both of her children. And she arrived, with full enthusiasm but alas, that didn't last long and she left again . I can't blame her honestly, we live in a place where the mental institutions are pathetic and not one relative nearby who could help us. And where was my father in the whole scene? He has been posted to a different state, kilometres away from us. Visiting only once a month, it was tough handing all the responsibilities of home along with my sister.
I am grateful for my father earns well, we had a cook and a helper to do all the chores but it was still tough. I would study hours and hours, help my sister with her academics, making her lunch, dropping her to the busy, grocery shopping, going to the coaching on weekends. It took a mental toll on me.
So the dreaded moment finally came in last December, tons of mocks, revisions and practice I went to the exam centre and sat for it. Mentally convicing myself that it will be okay, no need to nervous and it would just be fine. But I don't think my thoughts really went into my head because my mind went blank the moment I read the question paper and the exam anxiety kicked in. And god, it kicked in so hard I regret to this date.
After the exam, I cried and cried and cried. I was devastated, I did my best sure but the fact I could have done better only if I was capable enough to handle my anxiety ate me alive. I still remember the look on my father's face when the results came in a week later, it was as if he didn't even expect me to do well but was still disappointed that I didn't prove him wrong.
It took me two months almost to get out from that zone of self doubt, embarassment and low motivation. I decided everything is fine, life can give me another chance right? A person as passionate as me about law obviously deserves a chance to get into my dream college and be a successful person. But man, I was wrong.
Yesterday, I gave CUET conducted by the most esteemed agency which considers how important the future of it's aspirants are /s. And to say less, it went pathetic too lmao. My english is genuinely a strength of mine so I did well in that but an hour later, when I sat for General Test with time duration of one hour, I failed to attempt even half the number of questions I was required to. It wasn't as if I didn't study enough, did not do enough mocks or got extremely nervous. Infact, it was the complete opposite this time.
Yet, luck wasn't with me this particular juncture as well. NTA, infamous for it's paper leaks, disastrous management and cancelling exams did what it is good at. I was unfortunate that my invigilators had the least amount of respect for the students. Giving the paper 5 minutes late, not knowing the instructions properly, tons of signatures in between (which I actually do not mind) and shouting in the middle of examination at a boy who sat on another desk which wasn't his designated one. In hand we had 45 minutes, which I made full use of still, it wasn't sufficient.
Came home dejected, tired with centres being 30-40 kms away, I made the mistake of counting my marks and oh lord, I haven't stopped having anxiety attacks since then. I always knew there was no use of having so much of expectations from this exam but god it hurts, it aches and it is killing me. I worked day and night for the 2 and half a months setting everything aside. Every fear, each regret and now I am at loss because of something which isn't even my fault.
They say cut off will go low, but honestly how low can it go? I am at such position where even if I ace two subjects out of three, the one I failed was the deciding factor and without it, my name will be on no college list.
Maybe it's my fault, maybe I don't work hard enough, maybe my mind is messed up or maybe, I am just a lazy person who deserves no college seat because let's be real, if I was really worthy of it, I'd have it already. This is not a blame myself or my circumstances post, I just wanted to share the emotions I have been trying to suppress for the past year. Parent's don't really get it and think I am just another average Joe. Also, nobody around me is empathetic enough to hold my hand and console me. ( Expecting it seems wrong now too )
I said my life is over because I am genuinely scarred now, and yes it has only been two exams, I deserve to move on and I'll understand the later. But two consecutive failures where I genuinely worked hard, though wasn't enough, makes me think maybe I am not meant for this. As an elder daughter someday the responsibility of the household will fall on my shoulders, but if I can't even get a college to complete my education how will I do a job and earn money?
We don't have enough money to join a private college and all the entrance exams seems too tough for my dumb mind now. Thankyou if you read till the end.

This is going to be a long post, so please bear with me. For starters, this is my second time applying to PA school--I was at a disadvantage last cycle, as I applied late July, almost early August. I was working towards my masters degree during that time, and had a bunch of in-progress courses that I need to retake. I wasn't the best student my sophomore year of college, and Organic Chemistry I was the death of me, had to retake it and passed on my third try. I have shadowed a surgical PA for a few months, but because of the pandemic, the hospital was not allowing any students to shadow anymore. I like the idea of PA's bridging the gaps in healthcare, as with everyone. Although lateral mobility and good work-life balance are enticing factors in being a PA, I don't see that as being true. It really is specialty-dependent, an ideally, I think is best to stick with one speciality and perfect your craft. I don't mind the level of autonomy that comes with being a PA, I feel that everybody can be a leader within their own scope of practice.
However, amidst this journey of applying to PA school, during college, and even high school, medical school and being a physician has been nagging in the back of my mind. I come from two loving parents who never pressured me to pursue a career in medicine, but something that will make me satisfied and have a good life. Being a physician means having the breadth of knowledge, thoroughly understanding the mechanism of actions in medication and diseases. Its better to know and comprehend the whole story and the why, instead of just knowing surface level information. I'd like to think being a research assistant is helping me in solidifying my decision to be a physician--I understand that its two completely different things, but I enjoy showing medical students and other graduate students how to dissect a mouse, I love teaching them the anatomy of the mouse, and what each part is special in, and how it pertains to the research that I do. I love being the leader, and I appreciate when my colleagues come to me for questions and ask for my perspective in different things. I enjoy being a leader, yet I enjoy working in a team. For reference, here are my stats, they are not the greatest, but I'd like to think my experiences showcases that:
-graduated college with a 2.943 gpa, had to retake most of my sophomore year's worth of classes, failed organic chemistry I and passed on my third try. with all retakes and masters, raised to 3.02. despite failing most of soph year, i made deans list numerous times.
-got my masters in biomedical sciences, got a 3.4 gpa
-last 60 credits, 3.66, last 45, 3.61
-1955 hours as a night shift float pct, certified in phlebotomy, ekg, and as a pct.
-1392 hours in biochem research, vitamin D regulation focused. abstract sent out, will be presenting in symposium in fall
-new job as mental health specialist on back up call center, about 60 hours since i just started position
-990 hours in social and affective neuroscience research, presented thesis to psych department
-volunteering: sunday school teacher for 2nd graders, habitat for humanity, health screener in grad school, volunteer in hospital in high risk pregnancy and geriatric wings, summer camp counselor in church, food bank.
-teaching experience: learning assistant for psych stats course, helped teach 37 juniors and seniors as a junior, about 42 hours bc during semester.
-hobbies: food festivals, legos, parrots, painting, cooking and baking.
I have not taken my MCAT, and I told myself that if I do not get far in PA school applications, I will start studying for the test come the fall. The masters program that I am apart of has a linkage with the medical school, so I will try to see what my options are when the time comes. All in all, both professions are excellent, but I don't want to spend the rest of my life wondering what could have been. Some honest advice and feedback would be helpful.

For some reason, I simply cannot get AI illustration generators to create what I want them to create. It seems like I am being very specific in my prompt, but it just won't do it. It doesn't matter how many different generators I use or how many times I press the retry button, it won't do it. Right now, I'm trying my best on a specific prompt, but this is a general question too because it seems like I often have this problem.
The specific prompt that I am using (without success) at the moment is this: "Draw an illustration of Arthur Schopenhauer angrily shoving Immanuel Kant down a flight of stairs."
Now, there are tons of paintings of both these men, so it should be able to make the two men look like themselves (I have been able to get AI to draw fairly realistic likenesses of Spinoza and Descartes, so I know they can do it). But the two men are always generic elderly men, not Schopenhauer and Kant. And almost always, while the generator will put them on a staircase, it makes them happy and behaving in a friendly manner, sometimes shaking hands or patting each other on the shoulder. It's frustrating because this prompt is very straightforward. It's not vague at all.