As fun as story planning can be when it comes to crafting a narrative, I've run into a situation that could be diagnosed as pre-writing paralysis in recent writing endeavors. Working out all the little details feels like a reassuring safety net compared to the leap-of-faith of simply starting a story and running with it, but I'm itching to write a bold, wonderful new story with some of you, and I'd love to take that storytelling jump together; no right-off-the-bat "what should happen" wool-gathering, no time spent on character-sheet introductions, just a story and a scenario and a hook and, hopefully, a pair of characters who share a spark of chemistry.
I'm a twentysomething writer, and asking for anyone who'd like to write with me to also be at least 20 years old! What I'm offering is this: If you send me a message about how excited you are to write, how much detail you devote to your posts, and what makes your characters sing, I'll send you a bespoke starter to kick off a collaborative story. (No two writers will get the same one! Original ideas all the way down.) If we decide Discord would be a better medium, that's totally cool. But I just ask that you respond to that starter without too many questions that would give away future character motivations or plot points. I want to see us both thinking on our feet! To me, that's the heart of role-playing.
For those of us who have inclinations for certain genres, I will promise just a few things:
The starter will be in third-person, past perspective.
It'll set up a light-hearted, romantic-leaning modern day slice-of-life story.
It'll put the "cute" in "meet-cute."
It'll, hopefully, impress you enough to want to keep writing.
That's it! I've rambled too long already, but I'm excited to put myself out there and create some incredible new stories with some of you!
And if you'd rather work together on coming up with a plot, just let me know! I'm more than happy to be a traditionalist, too.

Wow! This turned out so long and was helpful to write when I was feeling really really awful an hour ago. Here it goes:
I’ve been following this page and a few others once I saw information on video game addiction a few months ago. I saw my family and step-son in so many of the stories, my heart and mind was transformed. I don’t feel alone and my son is certainly not alone in his struggles. To be honest I’m scared to start this new journey, and I’ll get to that more later.
I always knew something was different about my step-son’s gaming, and it’s been a struggle since 2-3 years old based on what his Dad has told me. Here’s a bit of a background of our family dynamic.
Jake had Pete when he was 19 and never had a relationship with Mom, Kate. They split custody and it was evident she was using hard drugs and lost full custody of Pete when he was 9. A lot of his time with Mom was spent on an iPad without regulation as early as 2. Routines, locations, and security was not always present. It’s tough to think about the severity of what Pete experienced. At this time school was difficult, and Pete was diagnosed with ADHD. Meds helped a lot, and once Jake had full custody he was all about routine routine routine, healthy foods, activities, table top games nightly, camping, you name it! His passion for being a single Dad to Pete is why I ultimately fell in love with him two years later. When I started hanging out I noticed Pete playing a lot of games and not being the sporty type or hanging out with friends. By this point he was playing Minecraft after school and on the weekends pretty regularly. Jake was a good video game police officer and we still had a ton of time together as a new family. Pete is kind and very easy going and we started a great relationship fairly quickly. Jake and I agreed and often disagreed about the severity of Pete’s gaming, but we would come together and set some house rules and go on with life. As soon as we got busy, Pete would dive deep into computer games and grades would drop. We would see feces in his underwater, lack of hygiene, not getting up, laptop under his pillow, exc. Almost like clockwork by spring break, we’d have this intense struggle and Pete would pull it together for the semester at the very last minute. Pete is gifted and was always in accelerated math and science glasses, but was able to do the bare minimum without studying. Repeat for the next 3 years. Fast forward to High School he went to a smaller school in a new town and actually saw more independence. He made a friend, Dan who’s still around and is everything you’d hope a friend would be to your kid. Their bond is awesome. We’d still have to police but things were getting easier and we weren’t seeing those intense “downs” like we were in elementary and middle school. I think he was more confident and even his teachers said he was crushing it! The summer was tough and we tried to fill his time up but nothing seemed to interest him. If he hung out with friends and was hygienic we just made nudges about time limits. Thinking back I think there was one more period where we found feces in his underwater end of Senior year and gaming picked up, probably because we dropped our guard.
Summer before college I got him set up with an awesome outdoor job working on a zipline/climbing course and he thrived in Pete’s type of way. Climbing is one of the only things I can suggest to Pete and he’ll usually show some interest. Confident, peppy, excited, getting himself up. Always going back to games everyday but maintaining work, a friendship, and a little independence is what we wanted so left him alone most of the home time. We nudged him into a climbing retreat as an incoming freshman to give him a head start making friends, and a clear head going into the dorms! Scary fun times, and thought it would help. Then we officially dropped him off. Wow, so many smiles and happy tears had by all. The light in his eyes and showing us around and saying how cool he felt it was probably the happiest day of our lives along with my wedding day. The day I read vows to Pete saying I’d be there forever and unconditionally. It felt like my son was ready for his future. As we were driving away Pete said his friend gave him a gaming computer for free and he was at the tech center getting it hooked up to the campus internet. Dun dun dun.
Today he’s 2 weeks into his first summer break after a year of college. Yikes. Things are not great and that’s why I am here.
It was Spring Break (here comes the pattern) and Pete was gaming, not verbally making much sense, unhygienic, lost weight, gaming non stop. He almost missed his 2 hour bus ride back to school and that’s when we snapped. The typical what the hell is going on, you’re out of control. Pete usually cries when this happens because he knows the gig is up. Eventually he told us the truth, he failed two classes his first semester (told us winter break he did fine) and is now on track to fail another science and lab. WHAT!! We drove out there the next day to meet with the dean because he told us he was on probation and we wanted to support him. We were so worried. It turns out he hasn’t had any social interaction other than winter and spring break and spent his days alone in his dorm. He didn’t even seem like himself it was so scary. We get there and we spent two days walking, going out to eat, the typical “you got this buddy” “just stop playing games for a bit” and insert the other 100 life sayings you want to say to your kid that sound so annoying to them. We can’t help it. We love him. He was like yep I got this, nodded through all of it and we left. Three weeks later we noticed on the phone things were sounding off again, and he confessed he hasn’t made up any of his work. His Dad got disappointed on the phone and Pete said he called the suicide hotline because he was getting “yelled” at. I was standing there, he wasn’t yelling but I’m sure just the sheer reality of the situation got to him. We were heart broken, and at the same time angry. We couldn’t believe he was feeling this much anxiety and possibly depression. We always knew gaming was an escape and most likely due to his background, but this just seemed too much for anyone to handle. Again, he promised to limit himself. We checked in everyday for the last three weeks not with a nag but just, how’s it going. Did you set a timer today? Amazing that’s great you’re so close to being done!! Just trying to keep it super positive. We knew it was totally out of our control. He failed, and actually never made up the work his professor said he could over a month prior. He lied more.
We knew something had to change and we were preparing his return home. Can we do game quitter? Can we just put him right into a detox in our home? Family therapy? Healthy gamer? Olganon? We wanted to smash his computer trust me, if it weren’t for my job I wouldn’t have wifi because my stomach is in knots. But, we decided relationship first, let him set his own limits (with our house rules) and really try to get to the root cause of anxiety and depression. We had good convos, we let him tell us how it’s basically all of our fault because of the pressure, no judgement. We communicated with notes and texts sometimes when things were getting frustrating. He skirted around the 3 hour daily limit every possible way. All he wants to do is play video games, watch to tube of video games, talk to “friends” on discord about games, play D&D online, or draw D&D characters. It’s just too much, it’s impossible to limit. He always had an excuse for a screen and we were still seeing 10+ hours a day on screens. He told us he’s feeling crappier everyday by us, and honestly we’re feeling freakin awful and exhausted too.
What now? Nothing. I’m literally doing nothing anymore starting today. I can’t stop crying. He won’t do his own research into gaming addiction and does not want to change. Today we just said ya know what, this isn’t working so we’ll just figure something out in a few weeks. At this very moment he’s going on hour 9 of gaming straight. Knowing how much we tried as a family to limit this for the last few weeks. I’m still angry and it’s hard to look at him right now. It feels personal to me? I know it isn’t, but it just feels that way.
Therapy!? Yep. We tried. Back when he was in middle school and high school. Didn’t want to go back and didn’t talk much. He got his own therapist at school per the deans suggestion and he goes but the one session he’s had at home, he got off within 30 minutes and said “he didn’t have much to talk about with her” and he’ll see her maybe once a month back at school. We are doing healthy gamer coaching as parents, but he is refusing to sign up for coaching on his end. My guess is the name alone. The risk of losing games is not something he’d ever discuss right now. I swore up and down they won’t make him get rid of games lol! Did not work.
What’s dad doing? Half. Literally half at all times we make a plan at night and in the morning and check in with each other about it all day long. It’s so exhausting and Jake is just ready to do whatever it takes at this point as well. He’s having the same struggles as I am and is 100% convinced it’s an addiction and has listened to a lot of podcasts exc.
My new plan…. Because I have to have “something” or I might blow up. Now I have to let natural consequences take the lead. He doesn’t have a license, because he couldn’t pick up driving skills with how his brain is on games. We tried teaching him for two years and it was honestly dangerous sometimes after a “bender. He asked me to go tomorrow and after 9 hours I’m just going to say I’d feel more comfortable if he went to driving school and he can pay with the money he earns this summer. It j=is just not safe, why does he deserve to take my car and put me in an unsafe position? I don't have to allow that... but it feels like I am still the bad guy. Looking forward, IF he fails college....when he is home he cannot have our wifi, will contribute to groceries, phone bill, and rent. We live in a rural area and without a car he can’t work. I will not be driving a 20 year old to and from work due to his brain on games. It feels wrong. Maybe he can’t support his habit without working. That’s all the “what ifs” but rarely does life go exactly how you picture it. We will just continue to get creative and roll with it.
Does anyone have any advice on how to not enable but also let them be in charge of their own destiny? Not saying anything or giving him a sad look feels impossible but I did it tonight. J was able to pretend it did not bother me that he’s been on there forever. I think I can keep that up? But I also don’t want to enable him.
My family is hurting so much. So many hugs to anyone who struggled and is currently struggling. Same to the parents who have that knot that won’t go away. Thanks for reading

I've seen people struggle with the Gambler Challenges and the games, so I decided to make a full post with some tips for those challanges and an explanation of the games.

Gambler Challenges

Rank 1: Win five hands of Poker. — The description on how to play the game is gonna be further down. I suggest going all in. Going all in might make your opponents fold which would get you to win. You can also play poker in the mission “Who is Not Without Sin” since the wins are scripted there.
Rank 2: In Blackjack, double down and win the hand five times. — The description on how to play the game is gonna be further down. Double down if you’ve got 9, 10 or 11 without an ace. When you double down you’ll only receive one more card before standing with the cards you’ve got.
Rank 3: Win three games of Five Finger Fillet. — Look at the hand of your opponent when it’s their turn to see what buttons you have to hit. It’s not in a row, so when the game gets too hard leave and go somewhere else to continue playing.
Rank 4: Bust one poker table out in each location (Flatneck Station, Saint Denis, Valentine). — You need to bust one player out by making them lose all of their money. It’s easier the fewer opponents you have. Just go all in immediately. If you go all in and lose your money, quit the game and run away from the poker table a bit or sleep and then come back to join again.
Rank 5: Win three rounds of dominoes without drawing any tiles against two or fewer opponents. — The description on how to play the game is gonna be further down. It’s just about winning a round not the whole game so this is quite easy. Play and be lucky enough to not draw for three rounds.
Rank 6: Beat the blackjack dealer in two locations (Rhodes, Van Horn Trading Post). — Simple, you just need to beat the dealer in each of those locations, which is literally just playing the game and winning.
Rank 7: Beat the five finger fillet opponent in each location (Strawberry, Valentine, Van Horn Trading Post). — Basically the same as the third challenge. You just have to win 2 out of 3 rounds in one game to make your opponent leave the table in each location.
Rank 8: Win three hands of blackjack, with three hits or more. — The shittiest challenge R* could have come up with. Just bet the lowest amount of money each time if you care about saving money. Ties unfortunately don’t count. Good luck.
Rank 9: Win three games of dominoes in a row. — Make sure the table you’re at only has one opponent. It’ll be faster and easier for you to win that way. If you feel like you’re losing the game, quit while it’s your turn to make sure you don’t lose your streak. The one with the most points will win so play for points.
Rank 10: Win three hands of poker in a row. — Probably the easiest gambler challange. Make sure you already did the mission "A Fine Night of Debauchery" in Chapter 4. Then first, go to your story missions and replay the mission "Who is Not Without Sin". Accept to play poker before continuing the mission. It has two scripted poker games so you'll win each time. After finishing those make sure to continue and finish the mission. Then replay "A Fine Night of Debauchery". After getting to the poker game and winning it, since it's also scripted, you should have finished the challange.

Game Rules

Poker
Google the 10 poker hands and a ranking of them to look at while you’re playing if you don’t know them. The color of the cards doesn’t matter. The number and what kind of face card it is does matter. You'll get two cards at the beginning of the game and you'll keep those throughout the entire game. No one should see your cards, but since it's in RDR it doesn't matter. There's another set of cards in the middle of the table. Those are the cards everyone sees and everyone uses. They’re called „community cards“. After everyone made their bets there'll be a new card that'll get revealed in the middle. You have to create one of the hands I mentioned earlier, like a Royal Flush for example, with the two cards you've got and the community cards. If you've got a 6 and an 8 and there's a 7, 9 and 10 in the middle you've got a Straight Flush. You'll either bet high if you're sure of yourself and your cards (and the hand you might build), or you'll bluff by betting high if you've got terrible cards to make them think you've got amazing cards. You'll achieve that by betting higher, technically raising the pot each time. The NPCs might fold making you win. You can also give up your cards and lose your money by folding if you’re unsure of your cards. You might want to do that if the person before you bet too high and you don’t want to call (bet the same amount as they did) or raise the amount. It‘s to minimize your loss.
Blackjack
You’re at a table and either you’ve got other players or not but you’ve always got a dealer sitting in front of you which you’re (and other players are) playing against. You’re now making a bet and then trying to get as close to 21 as possible without surpassing 21 with the value of your cards. Each of the face cards are worth 10 and an ace is either worth 11 or 1 depending on whether 11 would make you surpass 21 or not. If it would make you surpass it the ace turns into a 1. If it wouldn’t it stays at 11. The dealer will give you two cards. If you got a 3 and a 7 that makes your total card value a 10. Now you’d “hit” meaning getting another card. If the card you got was, for example, a Queen your card value would be at 20. You can stick with that which you should or you can ask for another card and hope for an ace, since that’d make your value a perfect 21. You’re essentially just trying to be the one that gets closest to 21 or exactly 21 without surpassing that amount. After each of the players decide to stick with the amount they’ve got the dealer will reveal their cards and add more cards or stay just like you did. The one closest to 21 wins. If the other players didn’t surpass 21 and got amounts of, for example, 19 and 17 and the dealer is also under 20, or even surpassed 21, your 20 wins.
Dominoes
it’s relatively simple. If you’re doing it for the gambler challenges I suggest you always join a table with only one person sitting at it so you only have one opponent.
The main goal while playing is to be the first person with an empty hand. It’ll start with one person laying a domino in the middle of the table. Now you essentially just match the numbers of your domino to the dominoes that are on the table. If the first domino was a 6:5, you need to look for a domino in your hand that has either a 5 or a 6 on it. So 5:(any number) or 6:(any number). The 6 on your domino and the 6 of the domino on the table will face each other. That’ll continue that way. If you cannot match any numbers from your hand to the dominoes that are on the table you’ll need to draw another (or multiple) domino/dominoes until you can actually place another. The second goal is to reach a certain amount of points. In an “All Fives” game (which I recommend because it’s a bit easier) you need to be the first to reach 100 points. A game of dominoes will spread into multiple directions but each end is what you actually need to focus on. If all of these open ends add up to a multiple of 5 (5,10,15,20,25, …) you’ll be awarded points. So if your opponent laid down a 4:5 and you add a 5:6 both open ends added together make up 10. 6:5 5:4 The numbers in the middle (in this case 5:5) do not matter. Only the ends matter which in this case are a 6 and a 4. You’ll probably have multiple open ends as soon as you’re further into the game, but the rules stay the same.

We rent a house because we were saving to buy, but like have yall seen the prices around here? Ridiculous, utterly ridiculous.
We pay a pretty penny for this house, so you expect some level of decorum when it comes to actually getting things fixed and respect. But alas, this is not what we've gotten, like at all.
So let me tell you this grand story.
The first 6-7 months were fine; did the landlord or property manager actually pay to get anything fixed that we asked them to? No. We asked them to fix the steps on the porch as they were rotting, what happened was they fixed 2 planks and left the rest to rot. When we told the contractor to fix the rest his reply was 'That would cost too much money for your landlord.' So they were left to rot until we no longer had safe access to our back yard.
In October the property manager and landlord said they were going to build a 4k sq ft addition to our backyard to create a duplex; we had only been here for 6 months. I told them that they cannot do that as it disturbs us and we are paying for the whole property, not just the house. (It would literally take away the entire back yard.) And it is also against our UDO. The landlord who owns the next door house as well just ignores us, because the other tenants are allowing him to do it.
I inform him that I have a child and work a fully remote job, probably should wait till I move. He ignored it.
He starts to build in both of the houses, and knocked down the fence in between the houses so the backyard is basically open now, the trouble is... he doesn't have a permit to build yet. There were a lot of issues and he just didn't care or pay attention.
I informed him that if he is going to do this that he has to do it legally, he basically calls me a dumb ass. And the property manager says that he probably knows better than me.
Fun fact I helped a friend run their district council person campaign and got to schmooze with the big wigs. I also went to law school, so what do I know against a man who is a psychiatrist for his full time job and then is trying to cash grab with two properties in his own neighborhood.
I contacted a friend who is on city council and has a lot to do with the planning and zoning. They get a notice to stop building. They rip it down the first time and then get a second notice.
In January we get a leak in our bathroom. I tell the property manager and she said the landlord would be over to look. They both proceed to tell us the leak in the middle of the roof is caused by the gutters and that we should be cleaning them. Well in the state of TN that responsibility falls on the landlord. I inform them that no, something is wrong with the roof. They leave the ceiling sagging and with water in it and leave us alone. I sent 3 more emails about this to them saying it's still leaking and them telling me it's my fault. I send them videos of the gutters being cleaned, yet it is sill my fault.
The landlords mother or mother in law starts coming onto our property without informing us within 72 hours like the least states and she starts stealing flowers from a rose bush we brought back to life. I inform the property manager that she is not allowed to be on the property as when we are renting it is our property and I will call the cops for trespassing if she does it again. It stops. for like a minute.
We are still dealing with the leaking roof and the steps have pretty much started to crumble. We have no use of our kiddo's bathroom by this point because the roof will absolutely fall in if we try to take showers in it. I get mad. Like really mad. This is the safety of my kid and family after all, like what if there is mold in there?
I start throwing legalese at her and she decides to blame me for gutters again, I send her a video and say it's not the gutters. (She claims the landlord has come by twice to clean the gutters when it's been once, we've done the rest and if he showed up without anyone telling us... that's again trespassing.) They finally send someone over, he pokes the roof and it crumbles. Said he was glad no one had taken a shower because they would have gotten hurt.
The landlord comes over with the PM and he says about the rotting wood 'what if we just staple plywood to it and then plaster it again.' Excuse me? The wood is still rotting and that's not how roofing works. Turns out the roof needs replaced and there are several gaps in the shingles causing this. Who would have guessed? Oh me. I told them that in January because it was blatantly visible, but what do I know I'm a woman.
The landlord looks at the steps and says 'we will fix it when the permit comes through and we start building, but we are having trouble with the permit.' Buddy at this point you're not getting that permit. My husband tells him 'the fk you will, we pay for that yard and we are using it. Fix the steps.'
I go off in the most professional way possible telling them that both of the major safety issues could have been solved and the liability lies with them, not us. the PM tells my husband 'you can just break your lease.' Which sends me to the very depths of hell of anger. I tell her no, our lease is for 10 more months and I'm not moving after only 14 months with a child. Also it doesn't matter if we move out, you need to fix this, it is literally your job that we pay you for. I know how much the mortgage is and I can tell you we pay them about 2.5k more than that.
I tell her that the two of them need to get their story straight because the lies are being recorded and I have everything on paper. I told them that I will record every conversation and anything out side of them being here will be done by text or email. I need her to know that the two of them have done illegal things.
They do not tell us when people are coming to fix things, they just start showing up at our door because 'I can't tell you in advance, you'll just have to deal with it.'
I tell her that if she brings up moving out one more time that we will do it for 14 months backpay and 6 months of rent to move and all of our deposits back, this does not make her happy, so I say if the landlord wants to sell to us since he cannot keep up with the upkeep, that's cool too. But why is he building on to the properties when he refuses to take care of the actual property themselves?
The landlord lives on our street and just stands outside of our house sometimes staring at us.
Fast forward to yesterday; the final straw. Found out that our landlord has never registered as a landlord the entire 14 months we've been here and 12 months someone was next door. I tell the PM that she should probably get on top of that as the city does not like that kind of behavior and that once again, she needs to get her story straight with the landlord. She said 'they'll fix your steps by the EOD and I have your safety at heart always.' Then why wasn't it fixed when I first brought it up?
The steps weren't done. The landlord is on the street while we are on our nightly family walk, husband goes and asks him what's up with the steps not being fixed. And he said "I'll remove them since you don't use them anyway." My husband goes off at him, he said 'We do use them we are asking you to fix them not take away all access to our yard!" And then the landlord says that the PM will handle it and he doesn't know who was measuring in our yard that day.
I send a text to the PM and relay that information and she said 'it will be done next week.' I say 'well you told us it will be done by the end of this week, so I expect that to still be the case.'
"I'll be there tomorrow, does that make you happy?" Enter me ranting about every illegal thing that they've done and quoting the sections of the law that goes with it and I said, no you are both just essentially slum lords trying to get more money by building more when you can't even take care of one.
She'll be here today and my husband is going to deal with her so I don't make this old lady and old man landlord cry, because I definitely am feeling that right now.
Additional notes:
The landlord asked 'how do you know all of these people.' when I said I spoke to the city council members and our neighbors on walks. My reply was 'that is absolutely none of your business.'
They resigned our lease and if they wanted us out why would they do that?
The bathroom roof is still not fixed and when I said we will need compensation for that part of our house they said NOTHING.
Every message that I've ever sent them has been professional and nice, now it's professional and stern.
I am just super mad and if it gets worse I will be calling out the landlord and the real estate company that the PM works at because this is ridiculous.

Part 1

The official story is that I hit my head. According to the lawyer I wasn't lucid enough to be a reliable witness, and honestly, I'm starting to believe that might be the truth. It's certainly easier to accept that everything was all just some nightmare.
But if my mind wasn't playing tricks on me, and those fuck-heads didn’t have anything to do with my friend’s disappearance, then there truly is no explanation for what happened.
My therapist and parents both agree. The best way to preserve my sanity is to chalk it all up to my imagination. But I see understanding in their eyes when I recount the events. They want to believe me, I know it. That alone is enough to fuel my doubt.
—
School had begun that September with mourning. I only knew the guy who passed away by face and name. It had happened a month after his graduation, and two months before his first year at Cornell.
During the intercom-ordered moment of silence, I looked out through the classroom. Some were bored, some cried. Many shifted in their seats and were glancing around, like myself, counting every second till the awkwardness would end.
It ended sooner than we thought when a kid with sports goggles a size too big bouncing on his face slammed the door open, obliviously clarifying his attendance.
I'm embarrassed to say that this kid, Aiden, was the only friend I had made in high school until this point. I have a hard time introducing myself to others, but being friends with a prepubescent outcast wasn't making that any easier.
After middle school, my family moved to the small village we live in now. It was a brainless choice because my Mom had found better work, my Dad wanted to be closer to his aging parents, and I desperately wanted out of my old school.
Aiden was the first kid to introduce himself when I transferred last year. I realized he was the token 'weird kid' way too late to make it into any social circles. I know it sounds like I'm a shit friend, but that's the way our relationship turned out. Sure, we told our parents and teachers we were friends, but in reality, it was more a tolerance than friendship.
After all, we didn't have anyone else.
For once, I was thankful for Aiden's lack of awareness. It gave me something to focus on instead of the depressing silence strangling the room.
After realizing his mistake, he whispered an apology, sat down, and pulled out an insect encyclopedia from his book bag. What a nerd.
I distracted myself by reading the book from over his shoulder, and before I knew it, lights were turned back on and class began in earnest.
—
I was able to learn what had happened by eavesdropping on hallway gossip between my classes.
Eight kids, six seniors and two juniors, had found a cave in a region of forest known as Skeleton Park. With that discovery, they decided to add spelunking to their pre-graduation bucket list.
Skeleton Park is the setting of countless local ghost stories, which made it a hot spot for rebellious teen antics. Kids would do everything there: party, drink, smoke, fuck, and everything in between. They even crawled around in caves apparently.
When I first moved, I was a skeptic with no intent of exploring the woods. But one creepy phenomenon always unnerved me. For some reason, animals completely avoided the area.
I initially dismissed this as fiction, like all the other folk tales, until I started walking my dog, Paddy, along the town's bike trail.
The trail runs parallel to the remains of a stone wall outlining Skeleton Park. The first couple of times I walked along it, I didn't notice anything peculiar. But after my Dad first told me about the rumors, I became aware that the area was unnaturally silent. No birds chirped in the trees, no flies buzzing, and no rustling from rodents or any other animals.
Even more surreal, on several occasions I saw deer stop at the wall and walk along it instead of passing through the area. It was like there was an invisible border they refused to cross.
With this context, I'm sure you can understand the reaction of the locals when eight kids entered, and only seven escaped two days later, traumatized and bruised.
Honestly, I was surprised to not have heard about the event over the summer, closer to when it happened. Even more strange though, was how unwilling Aiden was to talk about the incident.
He was the kind of kid who had a strong opinion about everything. On top of that, he was constantly bringing up horror movies, or Creepypastas he had found online. But when I asked his opinion on this summer's events during recess, he only shrugged. Despite the nonchalant response, the look on his face told me that it bothered him. So I didn’t press, and let the subject go.
At the time I'd guessed that he might've had some connection to the kid that went missing. In a way, he did.
—
After an exhausting day of attempts from teachers to console their students with speeches, candy, and exceptional lenience, I was ready to go home.
I expected to find Aidan at the usual spot by the bike racks, where we met each day to walk home. Instead, there was an audience next to the bikes, forming a ring around two disheveled figures.
The flying fists and shouting could only mean one thing, so I kept my distance. Then I heard Aidan yell center, “Fucker!’ and saw a glimpse of his face spitting from a bloody mouth onto the other fighter.
Even though his back was to me, I could tell Aidan’s opponent was easily 5 inches, and 60 pounds heavier than my friend.
Teachers didn’t arrive to break up the fight before the two were on the ground, Aidan mounted with arms up, desperately trying to block blows.
A whistle was blown, and people began running away as my math teacher desperately tried to pry the football player off of Aidan.
He fought back the grown man and was finally pulled away when two more adults rushed to help. The boy was screaming at Aiden with carnal rage.
"You're a fucking liar! How dare you, I'm going to fucking kill you if I ever see you again!"
Aidan was still screaming too, but backed away willingly.
"I'm telling the truth dumbass! You were trespassing! You should be lucky we didn't press charges!"
Aiden looked bad but waved the teachers off whenever they asked if he was OK. Blood poured from his forehead, mouth, and nose. He had at least one black eye.
The other guy, I learned from the crowd, was one of the two juniors who had gone to the cave. He didn't have as many cuts or bruises but was supporting his weight on one leg and his friend's shoulder. Multiple teachers forced him into a chair while they waited for a nurse to arrive.
While the crowd control was distracted, Aiden sneaked over to me and whispered that we needed to get out of there. A couple of minutes later, the two of us were walking home like nothing had ever happened.
It took me a while before I dared to ask Aiden for the full story. He didn't even let me finish my question, which let me know he was more or less his usual self.
"My family inherited the property everyone calls Skeleton Park. It's not haunted, it's not toxic, it's not the home of a satanic sex cult; it's just a piece of forest that's been in my family for a couple of generations."
He spat a dribble of red onto the sidewalk, and I realized I'd never seen Aiden get violent before. We had our share of bullying this past year, but he would always shrug it off and laugh. He wouldn't even try to fight back. We would just get pushed around a bit, and he'd make a quip afterward about the guys' weight or smell.
"Every summer, my dad and I drive around the perimeter putting up trespassing signs, and every year they get ripped down. We get police calls once a month during the summer that somebody came limping out of there with a broken arm or leg, and they have the balls to demand we do something about it. It's not our fault nobody follows the law around here. It's the fucking woods, and it's our private property. What the hell are we even supposed to do?"
To be honest, I hadn't even considered Skeleton Park could've been private property. Though I believed everything Aiden said, I had never seen any signs along the border wall. Embarrassed from being one of those trespassers, I looked away and stayed silent as Aiden continued.
"The area is just too big. There are too many places to enter, and there's no way to block it all off. Though it's not like that'll stop anybody. I feel bad that somebody died, but I'm also a little bit thankful. Maybe now, people will think twice before messing around out there."
We walked in silence until reaching the junction where we would have to part ways. I was tired and wanted to head home, but I also was worried that Aiden would be jumped by some of the seniors if he was alone. It had happened before, and his earlier brawl could've been seen as a declaration of war.
Instead of voicing these concerns, however, I asked if he wanted to play video games at his house. He was surprised by the request but agreed.
I was on edge with every passing car, and every blind turn, but thankfully we weren’t attacked. After a couple more minutes of walking, we made it to Aiden’s house. His Dad was outside watering the garden. He turned, noticing our approach in the corner of his eye, but his planned greeting died in his mouth when he saw the dried blood coating Aiden’s face.
"Holy Shit! what did you do this time?" he exclaimed, running over to inspect his son’s injuries. "Oh, hey Brian," he added, smiling briefly at me before returning to his analysis.
Mr. Eriks was cool for a dad. Aiden never had a bad thing to say about him, and the way he handled everything that happened in the following months would only increase my admiration for him. He'd raised Aiden by himself, and I would've considered him a second friend if he wasn't 40 years older than me.
After determining the damage wasn't all that bad: a cut on Aidan's forehead and lip producing most of the blood, the three of us went inside.
Aiden went upstairs to take a shower, and his dad privately thanked me for walking him home. It didn’t take long for me to cave, and ask Mr. Eriks about the park.
"Yeah, we do own it," he answered while preparing snacks for Aiden and me. " My wife, Aiden's mom, inherited it before she passed away, and then it was signed over to me. To be honest, I don't know too much about it, and she didn't either. We just used it to go camping there sometimes, back before Aiden was born. Now we go together because it reminds us of her."
"Did you ever run into people up there, when you're camping?"
"Yeah, though not in the fall and winter when we usually go. I have the police's local number on speed dial for when it happens. Usually, it's just teens though. Kids tend to run away as soon as they see an adult with a flashlight. Paranormal or not, they know they're not supposed to be there- You staying with us for dinner Brian?"
At this point, I was too curious about the truth of Skeleton Park to leave, so I nodded and said I just needed to check with my parents.
After a phone call with my mom, some pizza rolls, and a couple of rounds of Fortnite, the afternoon stress had mostly faded away.
Me and Aidan were sitting in his room, scrolling Netflix for a slasher film to watch, when I finally asked what I'd been dying to know the entire afternoon.
"So, why was that guy saying you're a liar?"
Aiden chuckled at the question.
"He refused to believe my family owned the property his friend died on."
"Why did you even say anything? You know that just makes them want to beat you up more, right?"
"I'm tired of everybody using our land like a public park, I'm tired of picking up condoms left by people I go to school with, and I'm tired of keeping quiet about it. I tried explaining it to people in middle school. Our first project in fifth grade was a presentation about something important to us, I did mine about the park. Nobody believed me, and it got me socially exiled for the next four years. "
I ignored the urge to explain that there was probably more to his social exile than a get-to-know-you presentation from four years ago.
"That's fair I guess," I said instead. "You're dad says you go camping there."
"Yeah, on three-day weekends, and sometimes longer on breaks. Mostly in the fall and winter when there are less trespassers."
"You don't find it creepy camping there? Even without the trespassers?"
"You mean because of the silence?" Aiden smiled and looked over at me. "Yeah, the rumor about the animals is true as far as I can tell. Sure. It's kind of weird, but in winter it's kind of beautiful too. After a blizzard, there's nothing to disturb the snow, and it's kinda like the whole forest has gone to sleep. With the snow and no animals, it can get so quiet that you hear your own heart beating."
He looked off past me with a feeling of nostalgia, but all I felt was chills.
"I can take you if you want," Aiden added. "I'll have to ask my dad, but I think it would be fun to have another person camp with us."
"I'll think about it," was my way of declining without saying no.
Aiden just shrugged. "Suit yourself. Offer still stands if you ever change your mind."
Much to my annoyance, we weren’t even able to finish the movie. My Mom called, saying she was outside to pick me up an hour into our viewing of The Blair Witch Project.
I went to bed wondering how anyone could feel safe camping in a place like that. After contemplating taking Aidan up on his offer, I concluded there could be nothing that would make me spend the night there. Ironically, it would be less than a week before I changed my mind.
—
Three days later, I was walking Paddy along our usual route when she stopped and looked up at something beyond the stone wall, into Skeleton Park. She stood like a statue, eyes wide and fixated on some invisible thing.
I tried tugging the leash, pulling out a treat, begging, and making all kinds of sounds, but she just stood there. Paddy was a six-year-old golden retriever who easily weighed as much as I did, so I couldn't do much more than wait for her to move.
Suddenly, she began barking wildly at the air.
I tried approaching, but she growled at me, a sound I had never heard from her before, and I was forced to back away.
Before I could even process what was happening. She leaped over the wall and ran at full speed into the woods. It all happened so quickly that I had no time to tighten my grip on the leash.
She sprinted straight into the woods, and I chased after her, but I didn't make it far without tripping on a root hidden among the leaves. My knee was split open by something as I fell, and it took all my strength, fighting past the shock, to get back up. After recovering, I looked in all directions, but couldn't see Paddy anymore. I could only hear the tossing of leaves and branches in the distance.
Then there was nothing. Not a single sound. I'm not sure why I didn't question the sudden silence back then. It wasn't the gradual fade into silence you would expect from something running away. It was as if somebody had just hit a mute button on everything but the wind through the trees.
I don't know, maybe I'm misremembering the details.
Patty's disappearance doesn't matter anyway. We never found her, and dogs don’t live for twenty years, so at this point, we never will.
After taking a moment to recover from the shock, I limped home crying and told my parents what had happened. My Dad called the police because it was the only thing we could think of, but all they did was apologize and recommend we put up posters.
They couldn't do anything even if they wanted to. After all, she ran onto private property.
After that, the last thing I could think to do was call Aiden. His dad promised they could search the park that night, and he also offered to take me for an extended search the following weekend in case they didn’t find anything.
Of course, they didn't find her, just half of a leash wrapped around a branch. At least, that's what my parents told me the Eriks had found, they never actually let me see it.
A day before the trip, the Forecast started predicting snow: Saturday night into Sunday, eight inches, wet.
I probably should've given up then. Instead, I told Aiden this would probably be my only chance to find Paddy, insisting she wouldn't survive in the snow. After making sure with his dad, we continued with the plan and headed out after school Friday night.
—
While it hurts keeping this story in, reliving the memories is almost as painful. So I'm going to take a break writing for now and continue in a day or two. If anyone has a scientific explanation for why animals were avoiding that area, or for my dog's behavior, please let me know.
Thanks for reading, B
Part 1

How I Wonder What You Are by Al Bruno III

I’ll know the time is right when the howling begins. It will be after sundown of course, the Mothers and Fathers of Jebsen only scream after sundown, and only on the clearest of nights.
There is no town of Jebsen listed on any map, even in its heyday of the 1940’s it was too small to be worthy of notice. It’s nothing more than a collection of buildings at the end of a dead end road. On one side it is bordered by long untended corn fields, on the other the swampy remains of Lake Campbell. The most noticeable of the town’s buildings is a red brick edifice with a wide domed roof of fractured glass. The rest is just barns and single story homes. Along the border of the swamp is row after row of barbed wire and bear traps.
I’ll let them scream for an hour or so, let them become tired. Even now it amazes me how I had learned to pick out the individual voices in the cacophony. The Widow Toth tires easily but the Garrets will be at it until dawn.
And what will I be doing while every able-bodied adult is on the rooftops? I’ll be slipping these pages into this mason jar and sealing it lid in place with the wax from a melted crayon. The Children of Jebsen won’t miss just one, especially not purple.
Twenty-five years ago a calamity befell the town of Jebsen. The authorities blamed it all on the after effects of an experimental insecticide but the Old Book the town elders read from every Sunday said otherwise. It told the citizens of Jebsen that a curse was carried by those twinkling dots in the sky. A malevolence traveling at 186,000 miles per second that would twist their Children into nightmares should a glint of it ever touch their skin.
That is why they scream at the starlight; hating it, cursing it, raging at it.
You can’t see what their Children have become and not feel the same way. The changes are heartbreaking and horrifying all at once but after you spend time with them you feel differently. There is mockery in the mis-set eyes that peer from those mollified skulls.
They know secrets. On quiet, cloudy nights I would put my ear to one families’ basement door or another and hear them murmuring and giggling as they writhe in their basement styes.
I think of their weeping mouths and soft teeth and remember that day half a decade ago the ill-advised shortcut and along the neglected county route 99. I remember approaching the train bridge and seriously considering turning around, it looked decades out of repair and I half suspected it would collapse as I passed under it.
But I didn’t turn back, my ego wouldn’t let me. I was right and the road was wrong so I drove under the train bridge, momentarily marveling at the strange and elaborate graffiti that covered it.
I was just past the structure when a small, bent figure ran out from the long grass.
The sounds are what I really remember; the squeal of the brakes, the thud of the body on the hood of my car, the thick crack of laminated glass.
I would later learn the name of the child I had hit was Julius McCarty but all I knew then was that there was an emaciated, bloodied shape lying halfway through my windshield.
Human instinct made me reach out, to see if the little boy was alive. When my fingers brushed his skin he twisted around to face me. His mouth lashed out proboscis-like and nuzzled into the flesh of my arm.
Pain bristled out from where the boy had latched on to me. I screamed, thrashed. I shoved the car door open and tumbled out onto the asphalt. The boy coughed once and died.
At first the wound held all my attention. How could it not? I had expected to see torn flesh and blood but instead the boy’s distended mouth had left behind a cluster of thick, festering ulcerations.
But then I became aware of the men making their way out of the tall grass. These were the Fathers of Jebsen understood immediately what had happened.
They had brought everything they might need to bring one of their Children back home to its basement; rope, bandages and cudgels. It was also everything they needed to make a captive of me.
They, dragged me away from the accident site, through the tall grass and over the collapsed remains of a chain link fence to leave me in the care of the Mothers of Jebsen. Those gaunt women had cudgels of their own and I was a mass of bruises and welts by the time the hole in the Earth had been made to their standards.
The menfolk returned carrying the child wrapped in a linen shroud. They dropped it roughly into the ground. There were no ceremonies, tears or headstone. It was well after dark by the time I had filled the grave back in.
Now here it is years later and I’ve had to dig a dozen more graves, one by one the Mothers and Fathers are dying out, it’s always a surprise when it happens. Every mother and father of Jensen is withered and white haired but every year a few more die in their sleep, or at work in the fields or at prayer in their red brick observatory.
The Children are dying too, not a one has ever lived past seventeen. One by one they waste away, except of course for the occasional accident like the one that trapped me here.
Despite these curse that has befallen them the people of Jebsen continue to reproduce, each mother convinced that this time she will give birth to the Great Redeemer as was foretold in the Old Book. Each time they fail and each time the result is locked away in it’s family’s basement.
You can’t imagine those basements, the smell of rotten meat, the ankle deep fecal matter and the perfectly clean toys. They draw equations on the walls, gold and silver crayons are their preferred color. Every Tuesday I have to visit each of those cellars and scrub the theorems and postulations away.
The youngest of the Children is a newborn, still angry from the womb, the oldest is seventeen and nearly rotted away. No matter the age they all taunt me as I work, sometimes with bites, sometimes with maledictions. Both have left unimaginable scars.
So many scars now, I’m marked, I could never walk among the people I’d known before. They’d refuse to recognize me and insist I was a stranger
The Widow Thoth says this is my penance for the death of Julius McCarty, she even went so far as to cite chapter and verse on the subject from Old Book itself. The Mothers and Fathers of Jebsen, base every aspect of their lives on that thick volume of prophecies and homilies.
I wonder if anyone will notice me as leaving. I doubt it, even when they’re not screaming their heads off a long dead suns they barely notice my comings and goings.
As I said before, the Mothers and Father’s of Jebsen have become so sure of me. Some families think I’ve become a true believer, the rest think the cinder block chained to my ankle is enough to keep me in my place.
I don’t know who you are or when you’ll find this message. My only hope is that you will believe me. If you do, please bring this document to the proper authorities. Don’t let my death be for nothing.
I go to the bottom of the swamp with two regrets. One is that I won’t be there when the town of Jebsen is discovered and burned to the ground.
The other is that six months ago I accepted Father Garett’s invitation to join in their celebrations. I went willingly with them to the old brick observatory. I prayed with them. I danced with them. I partook in all of their debasements.
And for a little while, perhaps an hour, I was happy.
They even asked me to give reading from the Old Book. I eagerly stopped up to the podium and began flipping through the thick volume.
Everyone waited for me to choose a passage and speak but all I did was shake and weep at what I beheld. My knees buckled. My mind shut down. I had to be carried out and put to bed.
You see, the Old Book was blank from cover to cover. You’re even holding some of those pages in your hands now.
I used them to write my story.

I'm just wondering how people feel about using the shot clock during combat, the pros and cons, success stories and failures, that kind of thing.
I have one player who never pays attention during combat, so every time it's their turn, they either need to be recapped, do something different than what the other players are discussing, and takes a lot of time deciding what they want to do and reading all their spells/feats etc. This tends to snowball as it bogs down combat, and other players follow suit, and then I feel my energy drag as combat continues. Unfortunately, the area they are in at the moment is a huge dungeon crawl, and next session actually begins in combat.
I've already spoken to the player and it hasn't changed anything, their ADHD doesn't help.
So, I'm considering adding a shot clock, so that if the player doesn't determine what their character is doing in time, they automatically take the dodge action and we move on. I also think it would help with urgency in general, but I'm wondering if I'm overlooking any glairing negatives. Thoughts?

So, ive never really experienced cyber hacking or bullying until yesterday. I usually keep a low profile in my life but one day I decided to start streaming on Twtich, im a single mother and I thought it would be fun for my daughter and I to do together, we love to game together so i thought it would be fun. I have been streaming for months now, since January maybe and i barely got 100 followers on there. However yesterday my daughter and I were playing Roblox, a fun little game and we were trying that new trend, the pause trend or whatever it is, im so outta the loop anyway during that someone private messaged me, didnt think much of it continued with my stream and then he got on my stream chat told me to check private so i did. He sent me a link and then said if i didnt add him on discord he would hack my internet...im not stupid, i don't give my personal handles out and i dont respond to threats. Although he did slow my internet down where i barely could stream and he said he will keep doing it until i add him. Never did. I was debating on not streaming today because i feel like its my fault my daughter and my parents have to deal with that now. My dad told me he would handle the internet stuff and this kind of stuff does sadly happen, there wasnt anything i could do about it. It would have happened regardless. And if i did give him my information it would probably just be worst then if i just said no.
Kind of just curious how to handle it. And also I dont understand what discord has to do with it. Like im not that tech savvy so i dont really understand what he can do from me adding him on discord. If someone knows, could you let me know?
Also he has made multiple different accounts on twitch and i keep blocking and reporting him but I do know one thing he always uses similar letters and numbers in his account name: Ijana is that specific things he goes through but he usually also has the number 313 in his name too.
Sorry for the long back story, thought maybe if i put all the details out there maybe someone would have some feed back for me. I really dont want to quit streaming my daughter loves it and it has helped a lot with my social anxiety, but this kind of just makes me a little demotivated to try if he is gonna mess everyone of my streams up.

I used to volunteer at this horseback riding farm. For context, volunteers were compensated with a free horse ride each time we volunteered (which I have since learned means that we technically qualified as workers in the state that I lived in). There was one day that I was working, and I went into the tack barn and saw a girl laying on the ground, looking rather unwell. She was another of the "volunteers." I asked her what was wrong, and she responded that she had touched an electric fence on accident and passed out. On this particular day, it was bucketing raining. If you've ever touched an electric fence with a wet hand or while it's raining, you know just how badly it hurts. I was premed at the time and thought she may have some sort or heart of neurological condition, so I had her lie down on the ground with her feet propped up on a wastepaper basket and monitored her pulse while I texted her mother.
It was at this point that our boss came in, saw her laying on the ground, asked what the hell she was doing, and, upon my explanation of the situation, told her she was faking and to get back to work. I instead walked her to my car so that she could sit down somewhere without the boss yelling at her and called her mother. During this time, she started to get worse and seemed very out of it. Her mother (a nurse) asked me to call her an ambulance. I hung up and did just that.
When the first responders arrived, our boss yelled at them to get off her property, but they refused because the girl in question was a minor. She saw the girl in my car and, realizing I was the one who called 911, told us both to, "leave and never come back." Another of her employees then tried to block EMS from giving the girl medical attention, so the cops were called and took statements. The day ended with two firetrucks, two police cars, one ambulance, one irate woman screaming, and a partridge in a pear tree.
I later found out she had been involved in some very shady business practices and that is most likely the reason she didn't want anyone there. I did what I could to get OSHA and other organizations involved to prevent another accident, or at least ensure that if something did happen, the person would receive medical treatment, but nothing every came of it and the business is still up and running a year later. I checked and saw that other reviews have said people have since been hurt on her farm. So, I left a review telling this story and warning people not to go there, as it could be dangerous. I received a very nasty reply from the boss/owner calling me a Karen and a bunch of other names and basically telling me that the girl and I were lying and had wasted the first responders' time. I feel like a terrible person for not doing more to help and also can't help feeling shaky every time I think about that response, like I also did something terrible by helping, even though I would do the same thing again.
I don't know what else to do, but I can't let this go. Not when she still has so many people, including summer camps for children, on her farm. So, AITA and is there anything else I can do?

How I Wonder What You Are by Al Bruno III

I’ll know the time is right when the howling begins. It will be after sundown of course, the Mothers and Fathers of Jebsen only scream after sundown, and only on the clearest of nights.
There is no town of Jebsen listed on any map, even in its heyday of the 1940’s it was too small to be worthy of notice. It’s nothing more than a collection of buildings at the end of a dead end road. On one side it is bordered by long untended corn fields, on the other the swampy remains of Lake Campbell. The most noticeable of the town’s buildings is a red brick edifice with a wide domed roof of fractured glass. The rest is just barns and single story homes. Along the border of the swamp is row after row of barbed wire and bear traps.
I’ll let them scream for an hour or so, let them become tired. Even now it amazes me how I had learned to pick out the individual voices in the cacophony. The Widow Toth tires easily but the Garrets will be at it until dawn.
And what will I be doing while every able-bodied adult is on the rooftops? I’ll be slipping these pages into this mason jar and sealing it lid in place with the wax from a melted crayon. The Children of Jebsen won’t miss just one, especially not purple.
Twenty-five years ago a calamity befell the town of Jebsen. The authorities blamed it all on the after effects of an experimental insecticide but the Old Book the town elders read from every Sunday said otherwise. It told the citizens of Jebsen that a curse was carried by those twinkling dots in the sky. A malevolence traveling at 186,000 miles per second that would twist their Children into nightmares should a glint of it ever touch their skin.
That is why they scream at the starlight; hating it, cursing it, raging at it.
You can’t see what their Children have become and not feel the same way. The changes are heartbreaking and horrifying all at once but after you spend time with them you feel differently. There is mockery in the mis-set eyes that peer from those mollified skulls.
They know secrets. On quiet, cloudy nights I would put my ear to one families’ basement door or another and hear them murmuring and giggling as they writhe in their basement styes.
I think of their weeping mouths and soft teeth and remember that day half a decade ago the ill-advised shortcut and along the neglected county route 99. I remember approaching the train bridge and seriously considering turning around, it looked decades out of repair and I half suspected it would collapse as I passed under it.
But I didn’t turn back, my ego wouldn’t let me. I was right and the road was wrong so I drove under the train bridge, momentarily marveling at the strange and elaborate graffiti that covered it.
I was just past the structure when a small, bent figure ran out from the long grass.
The sounds are what I really remember; the squeal of the brakes, the thud of the body on the hood of my car, the thick crack of laminated glass.
I would later learn the name of the child I had hit was Julius McCarty but all I knew then was that there was an emaciated, bloodied shape lying halfway through my windshield.
Human instinct made me reach out, to see if the little boy was alive. When my fingers brushed his skin he twisted around to face me. His mouth lashed out proboscis-like and nuzzled into the flesh of my arm.
Pain bristled out from where the boy had latched on to me. I screamed, thrashed. I shoved the car door open and tumbled out onto the asphalt. The boy coughed once and died.
At first the wound held all my attention. How could it not? I had expected to see torn flesh and blood but instead the boy’s distended mouth had left behind a cluster of thick, festering ulcerations.
But then I became aware of the men making their way out of the tall grass. These were the Fathers of Jebsen understood immediately what had happened.
They had brought everything they might need to bring one of their Children back home to its basement; rope, bandages and cudgels. It was also everything they needed to make a captive of me.
They, dragged me away from the accident site, through the tall grass and over the collapsed remains of a chain link fence to leave me in the care of the Mothers of Jebsen. Those gaunt women had cudgels of their own and I was a mass of bruises and welts by the time the hole in the Earth had been made to their standards.
The menfolk returned carrying the child wrapped in a linen shroud. They dropped it roughly into the ground. There were no ceremonies, tears or headstone. It was well after dark by the time I had filled the grave back in.
Now here it is years later and I’ve had to dig a dozen more graves, one by one the Mothers and Fathers are dying out, it’s always a surprise when it happens. Every mother and father of Jensen is withered and white haired but every year a few more die in their sleep, or at work in the fields or at prayer in their red brick observatory.
The Children are dying too, not a one has ever lived past seventeen. One by one they waste away, except of course for the occasional accident like the one that trapped me here.
Despite these curse that has befallen them the people of Jebsen continue to reproduce, each mother convinced that this time she will give birth to the Great Redeemer as was foretold in the Old Book. Each time they fail and each time the result is locked away in it’s family’s basement.
You can’t imagine those basements, the smell of rotten meat, the ankle deep fecal matter and the perfectly clean toys. They draw equations on the walls, gold and silver crayons are their preferred color. Every Tuesday I have to visit each of those cellars and scrub the theorems and postulations away.
The youngest of the Children is a newborn, still angry from the womb, the oldest is seventeen and nearly rotted away. No matter the age they all taunt me as I work, sometimes with bites, sometimes with maledictions. Both have left unimaginable scars.
So many scars now, I’m marked, I could never walk among the people I’d known before. They’d refuse to recognize me and insist I was a stranger
The Widow Thoth says this is my penance for the death of Julius McCarty, she even went so far as to cite chapter and verse on the subject from Old Book itself. The Mothers and Fathers of Jebsen, base every aspect of their lives on that thick volume of prophecies and homilies.
I wonder if anyone will notice me as leaving. I doubt it, even when they’re not screaming their heads off a long dead suns they barely notice my comings and goings.
As I said before, the Mothers and Father’s of Jebsen have become so sure of me. Some families think I’ve become a true believer, the rest think the cinder block chained to my ankle is enough to keep me in my place.
I don’t know who you are or when you’ll find this message. My only hope is that you will believe me. If you do, please bring this document to the proper authorities. Don’t let my death be for nothing.
I go to the bottom of the swamp with two regrets. One is that I won’t be there when the town of Jebsen is discovered and burned to the ground.
The other is that six months ago I accepted Father Garett’s invitation to join in their celebrations. I went willingly with them to the old brick observatory. I prayed with them. I danced with them. I partook in all of their debasements.
And for a little while, perhaps an hour, I was happy.
They even asked me to give reading from the Old Book. I eagerly stopped up to the podium and began flipping through the thick volume.
Everyone waited for me to choose a passage and speak but all I did was shake and weep at what I beheld. My knees buckled. My mind shut down. I had to be carried out and put to bed.
You see, the Old Book was blank from cover to cover. You’re even holding some of those pages in your hands now.
I used them to write my story.

I've seen people struggle with the Gambler Challenges and the games, so I decided to make a full post with some tips for those challanges and an explanation of the games.

Gambler Challenges

Rank 1: Win five hands of Poker. — The description on how to play the game is gonna be further down. I suggest going all in. Going all in might make your opponents fold which would get you to win. You can also play poker in the mission “Who is Not Without Sin” since the wins are scripted there.
Rank 2: In Blackjack, double down and win the hand five times. — The description on how to play the game is gonna be further down. Double down if you’ve got 9, 10 or 11 without an ace. When you double down you’ll only receive one more card before standing with the cards you’ve got.
Rank 3: Win three games of Five Finger Fillet. — Look at the hand of your opponent when it’s their turn to see what buttons you have to hit. It’s not in a row, so when the game gets too hard leave and go somewhere else to continue playing.
Rank 4: Bust one poker table out in each location (Flatneck Station, Saint Denis, Valentine). — You need to bust one player out by making them lose all of their money. It’s easier the fewer opponents you have. Just go all in immediately. If you go all in and lose your money, quit the game and run away from the poker table a bit or sleep and then come back to join again.
Rank 5: Win three rounds of dominoes without drawing any tiles against two or fewer opponents. — The description on how to play the game is gonna be further down. It’s just about winning a round not the whole game so this is quite easy. Play and be lucky enough to not draw for three rounds.
Rank 6: Beat the blackjack dealer in two locations (Rhodes, Van Horn Trading Post). — Simple, you just need to beat the dealer in each of those locations, which is literally just playing the game and winning.
Rank 7: Beat the five finger fillet opponent in each location (Strawberry, Valentine, Van Horn Trading Post). — Basically the same as the third challenge. You just have to win 2 out of 3 rounds in one game to make your opponent leave the table in each location.
Rank 8: Win three hands of blackjack, with three hits or more. — The shittiest challenge R* could have come up with. Just bet the lowest amount of money each time if you care about saving money. Ties unfortunately don’t count. Good luck.
Rank 9: Win three games of dominoes in a row. — Make sure the table you’re at only has one opponent. It’ll be faster and easier for you to win that way. If you feel like you’re losing the game, quit while it’s your turn to make sure you don’t lose your streak. The one with the most points will win so play for points.
Rank 10: Win three hands of poker in a row. — Probably the easiest gambler challange. Make sure you already did the mission "A Fine Night of Debauchery" in Chapter 4. Then first, go to your story missions and replay the mission "Who is Not Without Sin". Accept to play poker before continuing the mission. It has two scripted poker games so you'll win each time. After finishing those make sure to continue and finish the mission. Then replay "A Fine Night of Debauchery". After getting to the poker game and winning it, since it's also scripted, you should have finished the challange.

Game Rules

Poker
Google the 10 poker hands and a ranking of them to look at while you’re playing if you don’t know them. The color of the cards doesn’t matter. The number and what kind of face card it is does matter. You'll get two cards at the beginning of the game and you'll keep those throughout the entire game. No one should see your cards, but since it's in RDR it doesn't matter. There's another set of cards in the middle of the table. Those are the cards everyone sees and everyone uses. They’re called „community cards“. After everyone made their bets there'll be a new card that'll get revealed in the middle. You have to create one of the hands I mentioned earlier, like a Royal Flush for example, with the two cards you've got and the community cards. If you've got a 6 and an 8 and there's a 7, 9 and 10 in the middle you've got a Straight Flush. You'll either bet high if you're sure of yourself and your cards (and the hand you might build), or you'll bluff by betting high if you've got terrible cards to make them think you've got amazing cards. You'll achieve that by betting higher, technically raising the pot each time. The NPCs might fold making you win. You can also give up your cards and lose your money by folding if you’re unsure of your cards. You might want to do that if the person before you bet too high and you don’t want to call (bet the same amount as they did) or raise the amount. It‘s to minimize your loss.
Blackjack
You’re at a table and either you’ve got other players or not but you’ve always got a dealer sitting in front of you which you’re (and other players are) playing against. You’re now making a bet and then trying to get as close to 21 as possible without surpassing 21 with the value of your cards. Each of the face cards are worth 10 and an ace is either worth 11 or 1 depending on whether 11 would make you surpass 21 or not. If it would make you surpass it the ace turns into a 1. If it wouldn’t it stays at 11. The dealer will give you two cards. If you got a 3 and a 7 that makes your total card value a 10. Now you’d “hit” meaning getting another card. If the card you got was, for example, a Queen your card value would be at 20. You can stick with that which you should or you can ask for another card and hope for an ace, since that’d make your value a perfect 21. You’re essentially just trying to be the one that gets closest to 21 or exactly 21 without surpassing that amount. After each of the players decide to stick with the amount they’ve got the dealer will reveal their cards and add more cards or stay just like you did. The one closest to 21 wins. If the other players didn’t surpass 21 and got amounts of, for example, 19 and 17 and the dealer is also under 20, or even surpassed 21, your 20 wins.
Dominoes
it’s relatively simple. If you’re doing it for the gambler challenges I suggest you always join a table with only one person sitting at it so you only have one opponent.
The main goal while playing is to be the first person with an empty hand. It’ll start with one person laying a domino in the middle of the table. Now you essentially just match the numbers of your domino to the dominoes that are on the table. If the first domino was a 6:5, you need to look for a domino in your hand that has either a 5 or a 6 on it. So 5:(any number) or 6:(any number). The 6 on your domino and the 6 of the domino on the table will face each other. That’ll continue that way. If you cannot match any numbers from your hand to the dominoes that are on the table you’ll need to draw another (or multiple) domino/dominoes until you can actually place another. The second goal is to reach a certain amount of points. In an “All Fives” game (which I recommend because it’s a bit easier) you need to be the first to reach 100 points. A game of dominoes will spread into multiple directions but each end is what you actually need to focus on. If all of these open ends add up to a multiple of 5 (5,10,15,20,25, …) you’ll be awarded points. So if your opponent laid down a 4:5 and you add a 5:6 both open ends added together make up 10. 6:5 5:4 The numbers in the middle (in this case 5:5) do not matter. Only the ends matter which in this case are a 6 and a 4. You’ll probably have multiple open ends as soon as you’re further into the game, but the rules stay the same.

Hello All,
I graduated 2 years ago. I had a desire to work in a very specific field (Fashion/Beauty and preferably luxury). I was lucky enough to land an internship in a big company in that field and I then started to gain attention from other similar companies however I was approached for short term unrelated admin roles since I didn’t have enough experience. At the same time I got a 1 year internship offer from another company (in the beauty industry but not exactly the industry I wanted). I was very clear in my head that I’d rather take the 3 month role just to put myself in that specific industry I wanted. However I was influenced by a family member who suggested I take on the internship. (I had already done 4 internships at that point and this would be my 5th).
This input confused me and made me de-rail from my original desire and I decided to go with it. The issue is that 4 months in I got approached by another big company in the field I wanted and a more suitable role (for a 1 year contract) than the last one but still being influenced by that comment I ended up turning down the offer. 1 year later, I finished my internship and not only did I not get an offer to continue with this company (which I was hoping for), I realized that I disliked what I did in the internship and that it took my career down a road I didn’t want.
I tried to reach out to the 3 companies I previously turned down however as expected they are not replying. Not only do I feel devastated because I feel like I messed up my chances with some of the biggest names in the country but I’m also getting nowhere with my current job hunt. Even startups aren’t responding to me. I deeply regret turning down that job offer. I feel like I should have just taken it and I wish no one has influenced me. I knew what I wanted but like an idiot I let other people’s words affect me. Now I’m hearing people I know land jobs in those same exact companies and doing the same roles I wanted to do and it just hurts me a lot.
How can I recover now? Because I just feel hopeless and like all my efforts have gone to waste and for what?

How I Wonder What You Are by Al Bruno III

I’ll know the time is right when the howling begins. It will be after sundown of course, the Mothers and Fathers of Jebsen only scream after sundown, and only on the clearest of nights.
There is no town of Jebsen listed on any map, even in its heyday of the 1940’s it was too small to be worthy of notice. It’s nothing more than a collection of buildings at the end of a dead end road. On one side it is bordered by long untended corn fields, on the other the swampy remains of Lake Campbell. The most noticeable of the town’s buildings is a red brick edifice with a wide domed roof of fractured glass. The rest is just barns and single story homes. Along the border of the swamp is row after row of barbed wire and bear traps.
I’ll let them scream for an hour or so, let them become tired. Even now it amazes me how I had learned to pick out the individual voices in the cacophony. The Widow Toth tires easily but the Garrets will be at it until dawn.
And what will I be doing while every able-bodied adult is on the rooftops? I’ll be slipping these pages into this mason jar and sealing it lid in place with the wax from a melted crayon. The Children of Jebsen won’t miss just one, especially not purple.
Twenty-five years ago a calamity befell the town of Jebsen. The authorities blamed it all on the after effects of an experimental insecticide but the Old Book the town elders read from every Sunday said otherwise. It told the citizens of Jebsen that a curse was carried by those twinkling dots in the sky. A malevolence traveling at 186,000 miles per second that would twist their Children into nightmares should a glint of it ever touch their skin.
That is why they scream at the starlight; hating it, cursing it, raging at it.
You can’t see what their Children have become and not feel the same way. The changes are heartbreaking and horrifying all at once but after you spend time with them you feel differently. There is mockery in the mis-set eyes that peer from those mollified skulls.
They know secrets. On quiet, cloudy nights I would put my ear to one families’ basement door or another and hear them murmuring and giggling as they writhe in their basement styes.
I think of their weeping mouths and soft teeth and remember that day half a decade ago the ill-advised shortcut and along the neglected county route 99. I remember approaching the train bridge and seriously considering turning around, it looked decades out of repair and I half suspected it would collapse as I passed under it.
But I didn’t turn back, my ego wouldn’t let me. I was right and the road was wrong so I drove under the train bridge, momentarily marveling at the strange and elaborate graffiti that covered it.
I was just past the structure when a small, bent figure ran out from the long grass.
The sounds are what I really remember; the squeal of the brakes, the thud of the body on the hood of my car, the thick crack of laminated glass.
I would later learn the name of the child I had hit was Julius McCarty but all I knew then was that there was an emaciated, bloodied shape lying halfway through my windshield.
Human instinct made me reach out, to see if the little boy was alive. When my fingers brushed his skin he twisted around to face me. His mouth lashed out proboscis-like and nuzzled into the flesh of my arm.
Pain bristled out from where the boy had latched on to me. I screamed, thrashed. I shoved the car door open and tumbled out onto the asphalt. The boy coughed once and died.
At first the wound held all my attention. How could it not? I had expected to see torn flesh and blood but instead the boy’s distended mouth had left behind a cluster of thick, festering ulcerations.
But then I became aware of the men making their way out of the tall grass. These were the Fathers of Jebsen understood immediately what had happened.
They had brought everything they might need to bring one of their Children back home to its basement; rope, bandages and cudgels. It was also everything they needed to make a captive of me.
They, dragged me away from the accident site, through the tall grass and over the collapsed remains of a chain link fence to leave me in the care of the Mothers of Jebsen. Those gaunt women had cudgels of their own and I was a mass of bruises and welts by the time the hole in the Earth had been made to their standards.
The menfolk returned carrying the child wrapped in a linen shroud. They dropped it roughly into the ground. There were no ceremonies, tears or headstone. It was well after dark by the time I had filled the grave back in.
Now here it is years later and I’ve had to dig a dozen more graves, one by one the Mothers and Fathers are dying out, it’s always a surprise when it happens. Every mother and father of Jensen is withered and white haired but every year a few more die in their sleep, or at work in the fields or at prayer in their red brick observatory.
The Children are dying too, not a one has ever lived past seventeen. One by one they waste away, except of course for the occasional accident like the one that trapped me here.
Despite these curse that has befallen them the people of Jebsen continue to reproduce, each mother convinced that this time she will give birth to the Great Redeemer as was foretold in the Old Book. Each time they fail and each time the result is locked away in it’s family’s basement.
You can’t imagine those basements, the smell of rotten meat, the ankle deep fecal matter and the perfectly clean toys. They draw equations on the walls, gold and silver crayons are their preferred color. Every Tuesday I have to visit each of those cellars and scrub the theorems and postulations away.
The youngest of the Children is a newborn, still angry from the womb, the oldest is seventeen and nearly rotted away. No matter the age they all taunt me as I work, sometimes with bites, sometimes with maledictions. Both have left unimaginable scars.
So many scars now, I’m marked, I could never walk among the people I’d known before. They’d refuse to recognize me and insist I was a stranger
The Widow Thoth says this is my penance for the death of Julius McCarty, she even went so far as to cite chapter and verse on the subject from Old Book itself. The Mothers and Fathers of Jebsen, base every aspect of their lives on that thick volume of prophecies and homilies.
I wonder if anyone will notice me as leaving. I doubt it, even when they’re not screaming their heads off a long dead suns they barely notice my comings and goings.
As I said before, the Mothers and Father’s of Jebsen have become so sure of me. Some families think I’ve become a true believer, the rest think the cinder block chained to my ankle is enough to keep me in my place.
I don’t know who you are or when you’ll find this message. My only hope is that you will believe me. If you do, please bring this document to the proper authorities. Don’t let my death be for nothing.
I go to the bottom of the swamp with two regrets. One is that I won’t be there when the town of Jebsen is discovered and burned to the ground.
The other is that six months ago I accepted Father Garett’s invitation to join in their celebrations. I went willingly with them to the old brick observatory. I prayed with them. I danced with them. I partook in all of their debasements.
And for a little while, perhaps an hour, I was happy.
They even asked me to give reading from the Old Book. I eagerly stopped up to the podium and began flipping through the thick volume.
Everyone waited for me to choose a passage and speak but all I did was shake and weep at what I beheld. My knees buckled. My mind shut down. I had to be carried out and put to bed.
You see, the Old Book was blank from cover to cover. You’re even holding some of those pages in your hands now.
I used them to write my story.

I was just returning back from another interview. It has been the third one this month.
I failed to make the cut yet again.
Life hasn’t been easy for an ex-soldier with the economic downturn currently underway.
The COVID pandemic had also wiped out all my savings.
So I was open to securing any job that would help me pay my bills.
I hadn’t eaten all day and just passed by a McDonalds. It was crowded and I thought to myself, ‘Let me just order a takeout’.
I could see a few vehicles waiting in front of me.
There was a guy in his motorcycle honking incessantly demanding the customer in front to keep it moving.
He was a tall man with long hair and clearly looked edgy and irritable. Both his arms were heavily tattooed. He stepped down from his bike and started to walk towards the car in front of him.
I couldn’t make out what he way saying but I could see the conversation was getting heated.
I got down from my car and walked towards the biker guy.
As I got closer, the biker banged on the hood of the car and was pointing his finger at the man threateningly.
The guy in the car was looking a little alarmed. He had a young boy seated next to him.
The woman working at the driveway counter appealed to the biker to maintain his cool. He would hear none of it.
She then proceeded to call the police and this made the biker more irate. He snatched the receiver from her and hit her face with it. She fell backwards and started bleeding from the nose.
The biker then proceeded to turn his gaze towards the man in the car. He opened the door and dragged the guy outside.
He drew his hand back to throw a punch at him.
I caught his arm from behind and kicked him hard in the shins. He yelped in pain and let go of the other man.
He then turned back angrily to take a look at me. He was wearing a black jacket with the name Kenny embossed in front.
I said, “Listen Kenny. I have had a really bad day. So you either stop this madness or I am going to break your bones.”
He snarled and threw a punch at me with all his might. I swerved to the right and ducked just in time, causing him to miss completely.
Next, he whipped out a switch blade from his pocket and lunged towards me with it. I side stepped him and counterattacked with a punch to his plexus. He went down on one knee.
I caught hold of his knife arm and ordered him to drop it.
“Drop the knife kenny!! This is your last warning”, I repeated.
He started to fidget with his other arm around his shoe. I realized he had another weapon hidden in his sock.
So before he could attempt anything else, I twisted his forearm and landed a crushing blow to his elbow. It snapped into two and he lay on the floor yelping in pain.
By this point, other people came forward to intervene and help with the situation.
As Kenny was being led away by the police, he kept staring at me with madness in his eyes.
“I am coming back for you. This is going to be the biggest regret of your life”, he yelled.
I didn’t care and started going back to my car.
Then the man who was threatened by Kenny came forward and shook my hand.
“Hi. I am Rupert. That is my son Henry”, he said.
I waved my hand at the boy and he waved back.
“I would like to thank you for what you did for me back there”, he said.
“You not only helped me maintain my dignity but also helped me save face in front of my son”, he continued.
“This means a lot to me as a dad” he said.
I nodded in acknowledgement not sure what I was to add to the conversation.
He then reluctantly asked,” Is there anything I can do to repay the favour? Please feel free to ask . Anything. I would be most grateful.”
I thought for a moment. I could see the man was wealthy.
“If it’s not too much of an ask, I would appreciate a job if available. If you feel that is difficult, no problem. Forget I asked. No worries.” I said.
He smiled back at me warmly. He reached into his pocket and handed me a card.
“Please come to my office tomorrow. We can talk” he signed off.
From that moment on, I became the personal bodyguard and chaperone of his 8 year old son Henry. We immediately hit it off and became pals. I looked after all his son’s travelling arrangements.
We would also go to McDonalds every week for his favourite Burger and fries. I later learnt that his father was a very wealthy man who made most of his money during the dot com bubble.
I also became friends with the female employee at the driveway counter who had earlier been attacked by that biker punk Kenny.
Her name was Stella and it didn’t take very long for the two of us to start dating.
With a fulfilling job and a loving girlfriend by my side, my life was finally back on track. I couldn’t be happier.
And then one day - it all came crashing.
Henry and I as usual visited the McDonalds joint and I was surprised to see Stella missing at the counter.
I asked the staff about her and they said she hadn’t turned up today.
I thought that was weird. She had stayed over at my place and I saw her leave for work in the morning.
I tried calling her number but it was unreachable.
I dropped Henry at home and headed towards Stella’s apartment.
She had given me a spare key and I opened the door with it. Everything was in its place.
I tried her number again. It remained not reachable.
I decided to go back to my apartment to check if she might be there.
When I reached the door, I could see the lock had been smashed. The door was left slightly open.
I took out my side arm and slowly entered the apartment.
I could see a life size figure of Ronald McDonald the clown sitting on my sofa.
The famous mascot was sitting cross legged with one arm resting on the backrest. Just like how he likes to sit on benches outside McDonald outlets all across the world.
I was a little taken aback, but quickly switched on the lights to take a closer look.
As I moved closer, my knees buckled under my own weight.
It was Stella. She was the one who was dressed as the clown.
There were injury marks around her neck. She had been strangled to death.
I managed to call the cops while still reeling from the shock.
I also noticed her right hand which was resting on her thigh, was close fisted. When I pried it open, there was a crumpled piece of paper inside.
It read -
“She was really begging me for mercy.
Where was soldier boy when she needed him huh?
Boo Hoo….I’m Lovin It!!
I’m Lovin it!!
Signed Yours Kenny”
I could feel a surge of anger envelop me. And yet I lay there helpless.
Had it not been for the surveillance cameras at the entrance of my home, I would have been in jail by now.
The police could clearly see Kenny carrying Stella’s body and breaking into my apartment.
They put out a nationwide notice for Kenny and he’s been on the run ever since.
Even after 2 months following Stella’s death, the police were not any closer to catching the culprit.
But I did apprise Henry’s dad of the situation. His life was also at risk after considering what happened to my girlfriend.
But our collective worry was for Henry. We didn’t want to see him suffer for no fault of his.
So I started training Henry to take his own safety seriously. I devised multiple safeguards to keep him protected while being outdoors. Always ensured that I was personally there to drop and pick him up from school.
My boss appreciated all that I was doing for his son. He knew I had taken Stella’s death hard.
He was a generous and compassionate man and I liked working for him.
Although he did notice I wasn’t my usual cheery self anymore.
One day when I was waiting at the office, he tossed the keys of his new car at me.
“This should perk you up. Take her for a spin” he said.
“And also go pick Henry up from school”, he finished as he left for a meeting.
I got down to the parking lot, and there she was … waiting. The new Bugatti Chiron.
I opened the door and took the driver’s seat. The fresh smell of the leather upholstery was already lifting my spirits.
‘Boss was right! I am perking up’, I thought to myself.
I drove around the block and stopped by McDonalds to pick up the usual order for me and Henry.
I felt a tinge of sadness when I could no longer see Stella at the counter.
Anyways, I picked the order and started my way towards school.
As I went past the restaurant, I saw an old jeep parked by the side of the road. I didn’t think much of it at that moment.
When I reached Henry’s school, I parked the car a few feet away from the entrance. A couple of minutes later, I noticed the same jeep I saw at McDonalds go past me and park 20 mts in front.
I would have never given it a second glance had I not spotted it at the restaurant.
The jeep had 3 passengers. They looked like bikers with tattoos, beard and long hair.
And then there was Kenny standing behind a tree to avoid detection. But I spotted him.
He was gesturing towards them to get ready. I could see his Harley parked just a few feet away.
They were planning some kind of ambush.
The school bell rang and the children were already out on the streets.
I could see Henry at a distance in the courtyard. He was slowly making his way towards the gate.
I immediately called him on the phone and told him to go to the Principals office and stay there. I made it clear under no circumstances was he to venture out until I gave him the all clear. He understood.
He was safe as long as he was within the school’s premises.
The next thing to do was move to another location. The children were already pouring onto the streets, and the last thing I wanted was to see a child getting hurt.
I started the car and went past the jeep before taking the next turn. I kept driving.
Few moments later, the jeep caught up with me and the driver violently swerved towards the left causing me to go off course. My car came to halt.
The guys quickly alighted from the jeep and they were all armed to the teeth.
Kenny came in his motorcycle and stopped his bike a few feet ahead of me. He took out his shotgun and had it aimed straight at my chest.
The firing started before I even had the time to react.
I instinctively ducked for cover with my eyes closed.
But in my heart, I knew my time was up!!
As the seconds went by, even with all those bullets being sent my way - my body felt strangely light.
‘Am I in heaven already?’ I thought to myself.
I slowly opened my eyes and tilted my head upwards to take a peak.
And I realized I was sitting in an armoured bullet proof car.
The entire biker gang were mad with rage, doing everything possible to penetrate that thick armour plate.
Kenny was barking orders at his gang to continue the onslaught. He then pointed his finger at me and yelled, “I am coming for you.”
I looked down at the seat next to mine and saw the takeout I had ordered.
Just to piss him off even further, I took out my Big Mac and slowly took a big bite.
I sat there in gastronomic bliss savouring my burger, while being under a continuous hail of bullets.
The firing suddenly stopped. Kenny the psycho was livid as hell - to see me have a good time.
I looked him in the eye while I took a sip of my favourite milkshake.
And then, continued to chomp on my burger.
He looked a little crestfallen at how his plan was misfiring and then frantically gestured his troops to keep at it. The firing started again.
But it didn’t last long. They eventually all ran out of ammo and his buddies began to flee the scene, as we could hear sirens at a distance.
The attack had taken a toll on the car. But it managed to withstand all that damage. All that firing.
A life saver!
I looked at Kenny again. Only one thought was running through my head now.
‘My Turn’.
I switched on the ignition and rammed the car straight into Kenny. He hit the bonnet hard while the car continued to race forward.
He was clinging on to dear life with his outstretched hands desperately clutching at the sides of the car.
Next in the demolition line, was his prized Harley Davidson.
I hit it full steam and watched it smash to smithereens - with parts scattering all across the road.
Then, I hit the brakes and Kenny was sent flying 10 feet forward.
After impact, he slowly staggered to his feet - all bloody and bruised.
His face was swollen like an apple.
He was pleading towards me with folded hands to show him mercy.
‘This is for Stella. And She’s lovin it’, I said out loud.
I hit the accelerator again.

Sustainable interior design brings a major impact on our environment, the material you use in every material contributes to the overall ecological footprint. But what if HSAA-Home interior design company helps you create a beautiful and stylish space that is dedicated to a greener home with an eco-friendly environment?
The role of sustainable interior design prioritizes eco-friendly design throughout the overall process. The main aim of our company is to maximize the environmental impact while keeping the comfort, functionality and aesthetics.
This term considers the complete life cycle of a product, from its creation to use and disposal or potential use.
Sustainability in interior design is to adopt ecological materials and sources to create a visually beautiful and considerate environment. By utilizing recycled, biodegradable, and waste materials, interior designers can include sustainability in their kitchens, living rooms, office spaces and more. For flooring, bamboo can be used in place of hardwood.

How you can implement eco-friendly design in your interior design journey:

• Reduce, Reuse and Recycle: These are the main aspects of interior design. Reuse the furniture and decor you already have to reduce the need for new purchases. Explore antique shops, flea markets, or online marketplaces to find a good alternative to previously owned items. Start prioritizing giving to new products that are manufactured from recycled materials such as bamboo, cork and old wood.
• Sustainable Materials: For good indoor air quality, choose natural, low-VOC (volatile organic compound) materials. The certifications such as GOTS (Global Organic Textile Standard) for textiles and FSC (Forest Stewardship Council) for wood items. Start picking eco-friendly methods like recycled glass countertops, cork tiles, or bamboo flooring.
• Water Conservation: Fit your bathroom and kitchen with water-saving fixtures. To cut down on water usage, choose good fixtures and low-flow shower heads. Choose the top kitchen renovation in Delhi for the best services to maintain your kitchen.
• Make the right consumption: Avoid impulsive buys and make long-lasting investments in high-quality, well-made items. This helps in less waste and encourages more deliberate consumption. Select furniture with classic styles and muted color schemes to increase its adaptability.

Why Is Sustainable Design Important for Interior Design?

HSAA- The best interior designers in Delhi describe how important it is to protect the environment. Minimizing environmental problems also reduces the aftermath on Earth by saving time, money, and effort. It ensures efficiency and creates a healthy approach to environmental interior design while satisfying clients.
Now you understand the importance and principles, let’s dive into practical solutions to translate them into stunning and sustainable living spaces.

1. Natural Light’s Power:

Optimize natural light by maintaining hygiene and clean windows. Organize furniture in such a manner that it doesn’t obstruct the sun. Start using translucent shades or drapes to preserve seclusion while letting in diffused light. Use well-placed mirrors to reflect more light from the outside which makes the space feel lighter and more spacious. As a result, less artificial lighting is needed during the day.

2. Embrace the natural Plantation:

Indoor plants not only add a touch of positivity and serenity to your space but also contribute to a healthier environment. Plants and greenery are present as natural air purifiers that help in absorbing toxins and releasing oxygen. A variety of species are known for their air-purifying qualities, such as snake plants, spider plants, and more. This will help in providing sustainable interior design to your space.

3. Reuse and Repurpose:

Give old furniture and décor a new look by opting for the method of reuse and recycling. Upcycle vintage suitcases into beautiful side tables or ottomans that create a pleasant look to your old space. Book the best interior design services in Delhi and Transform your space into something beautiful that tells a story.
Get creative and explore online tutorials for DIY home decor by using old materials. Not only will you save money, but you’ll also minimize waste and create unique pieces with a personal touch.

4. Sustainable Textiles and Flooring:

Choose natural fibers like organic cotton, linen, wool, or jute for rugs, throws, and more. All the 2BHK and 3BHK flats’ interior designs utilize sustainable textiles and flooring concepts for long-term commitment and a healthy lifestyle. These materials are not only comfortable but also biodegradable. Discover recycled wool rugs or sisal floor coverings for sustainable flooring options.

5. Energy-structured Appliances:

When you are looking to replace appliances, pick out Energy Star-certified models that are dedicated to being more energy-efficient. This reduces your overall energy consumption and helps save money on high-cost bills.

6. Choose Eco-friendly Products:

Ordinary cleaning products usually contain harsh chemicals that can pollute the air and water. Switch to eco-friendly cleaning solutions made from natural ingredients like vinegar, baking soda, and essential oils. These are not only safe for your health but also work best for the environment.

7. Go for sustainable smart technology :

Home interior design companies in Delhi play a significant role in eco-friendly living. Invest in smart technology to control your home’s temperature remotely that helps in preventing unnecessary energy use. Smart power technology can automatically cut power to electronics when not in use.

8. Water-Saving Methods:

Install low-flow showers and other bathroom fixtures to reduce water consumption without wasting water pressure. Think about installing a water-efficient toilet as well.

Benefits of Eco- friendly interior design

By accommodating eco-friendly designs and creations, you’re not only creating a beautiful and stylish home but also providing a vast list of benefits:

• Reduced Environmental Impact: Using sustainable and eco-friendly designs helps minimize your high bills and conserve resources for future generations.
• Improved Indoor Air Quality: Eco-friendly materials and sustainable products promote healthier indoor air and hygiene and reduce harmful chemicals.
• Enhanced Well-being: High access to natural light, plants, and natural materials can contribute to a more relaxing and positive living environment.
• Cost Savings: Energy systematic appliances can help in saving bills.
• Uniqueness: Reuse and repurposed pieces along with a focus on natural materials create a more individual and spacious filled space.

Why is sustainability so important in interior design?

Sustainability in interior design is about creating beautiful and functional spaces, but also environmentally friendly and healthy. Here’s why it’s important:
Environmental Impact:
The construction and furnishing industry has a major impact on the environment. Sustainable eco-friendly designs mainly aim to reduce this impact by using recycled materials, minimizing waste, and conserving the best resources. This can involve using locally sourced materials, opting for energy-structured appliances, and accommodating natural lighting.
Long-Term Value: Sustainable eco-friendly materials are often chosen for their durability and long-term commitment. This means they will last longer, require less replacement and save money. Additionally, sustainable design can help to improve energy efficiency leading to lower bills.
Huge Client Demand:
As people become more aware of environmental issues, there’s a high-rise demand for sustainable design and eco-friendly interior products.
What differentiates sustainable design from green design?
The objective of green design is to lessen the negative effects of cement buildings, electricity, and household appliances. Sustainability has a major influence on interior design because it makes energy-efficient infrastructure possible.
On the other hand, The focus of sustainable design is mostly on the structure itself, utilizing reusable elements like glass and stone to create a long-lasting impact. Contemporary interior designers utilize computer- technologies such as BIM and AR to attain sustainable eco-friendly designs, particularly in large-scale projects.
Inspiration and Resources for Your Eco-Friendly Journey
HSAA guides you on your eco-friendly design journey. Here are a few suggestions:
Online Marketplaces: Explore online platforms like Etsy or Amazon to find unique, vintage, or upcycled furniture and décor pieces.
Sustainable Design Magazines and Websites: Check out publications dedicated to sustainable living and eco-friendly design. These resources offer stunning methods, practical tips, and insights from interior design professionals.
Sustainable Furniture Brands: Explore furniture brands committed to sustainable methods and ethical manufacturing. Many brands offer beautifully crafted pieces using recycled materials or local, responsibly sourced wood.
To sum up, Eco-friendly interior design is not about changing style or comfort. It’s about creating designs in such a way that helps both nature and humans. By choosing sustainable designs and eco-friendly materials, you can create a beautiful, healthy living space for a sustainable future.
Let recycling methods help you in the journey of sustainable interior design and remember, small steps can lead to ultimate change. With a little planning and effort, you can create a comfortable and stylish home that is helpful to the environment

Why
I relied on my mom as a kid. I always thought I could trust her, but she had unaddressed mental health issues that caused her a lot of pain. She didn't seem interested in getting help and instead turned to drugs and unhealthy relationships. When my sister and I were born, she isolated us from others. My mom hid her inner struggles and pretended to be perfect, but I knew deep down there were cracks in her facade.
I noticed people in my life trying to help my sister and me. However, any efforts were ultimately rejected or twisted by my mom. As her early-onset dementia progressed, her mask began to slip. Her unaddressed desires took control, manifesting as manic episodes. When my sister left to get married at 25, I was alone. It was a difficult decision, but understandable. Over the next four years, my mom's mental state deteriorated significantly. Her manic episodes became severe, escalating from yelling and screaming to pushing and even physical attacks.
One day, I reached my breaking point. I confided in my counselor, and CPS became involved. My mom, with her deteriorating mental state, saw it as a betrayal. In her mind, anyone who wasn't with her was against her. I became the enemy for exposing the truth. To silence me, she locked me in a hotel room for a week with no food or way out. The fear and confusion were overwhelming during those seven days.
The question haunted me: "Why is she doing this to me?" After seven days of fear and confusion in the hotel, I was finally released. But the nightmare wasn't over. My mom fabricated a story that I was suicidal and had me committed to a hospital, supposedly to disprove any accusations I might make. For four grueling months, I was shuttled in and out of these facilities. Thankfully, my sanity prevailed – they couldn't keep me there. However, my mom's twisted narrative persisted. Every time I tried to prove my side of the story, it felt like a losing battle.
Despite being innocent of the accusations, I held onto the hope of forgiveness and reconciliation. After all, she was my mom, and I had no other family. But her actions only worsened. The lies became more elaborate and malicious, all attempts to deflect blame for her own mistakes. Deep down, I yearned for a functional relationship, but her manipulative behavior reached a new low. This latest betrayal made me question my very existence. It was a horrible realization: the person I was trying to connect with was determined to paint me as the villain.
The situation escalated to the point where I found myself homeless for two weeks in the cold. Wracked with confusion, I kept asking myself, "Why? Why me?" Despite my efforts to do the right thing, everything felt broken. Eventually, I returned home, desperate for any semblance of maternal connection. My mom's sudden shift to a seemingly caring demeanor felt fake, but I clung to it, yearning for the bond I never had. Yet, the dysfunction persisted. On December 31st, 2023, she brought home a dying Chihuahua for Christmas. Despite being forbidden from interacting with the dog, I ended up cleaning and taking care of it all night. It was a bizarre situation – she was neglecting a dying animal while briefly showing me a kindness that felt hollow. This incident, two days after a birthday with no acknowledgment, was the final straw. When she asked if I wanted anything, I simply requested cake. Her response, "You don't deserve a cake...you keep contacting CPS," confirmed my suspicions. Disillusioned and frustrated, I retreated to my room to regain composure.
Terror surged through me as I heard her screams erupt like thunder. My heart pounded in my chest. Recognizing the signs of another manic episode, I retreated to my room, fearing another attack. She bellowed for my phone, but I clutched it tightly, my only lifeline if things escalated. The yelling intensified into a terrifying storm. With a sickening crash, she barreled into my door, shattering the already weakened frame – a physical manifestation of our fractured relationship. Screws littered the floor as she loomed closer, threats spewing from her lips. Her intent was clear: to take my phone and silence me.
: Exhausted from enduring abuse, I refused to relinquish my phone. When she lunged, attempting a bite on my shoulder, I stood firm. No more questions, just the will to take control. Frustrated, she retreated. The assault left me shaken, but resolute. With no lock due to prior incidents, I braced myself against the broken door. Ten agonizing minutes crawled by as she relentlessly pushed against it, the screws groaning in protest. Finally, the weakened frame gave way, snapping against her leg. A torrent of screams and curses erupted from the other side.
She descended into further chaos, hurling insults and comparing me to my dad, the source of our family's pain. But I was done. Looking her in the eye, I said, "I'm sorry you're hurting, you hurt yourself You hurt me. I don't feel safe, and I need to leave." With that, I grabbed my belongings and fled. Reaching my sister, I explained the situation and tearfully said goodbye to friends, fearing my mom's manipulations. My sister urged me to call the police, but I worried about their response to a mental health crisis. Determined to get help, I decided to call my best friend, possibly for the last time. I recounted the ordeal, expressing my gratitude for his friendship despite past mistakes.
Sirens wailed in the distance, then abruptly stopped. Officers emerged and questioned me. Reliving the night's events, I desperately hoped for help. However, to my utter confusion, they asked me to put down my belongings and handcuffed me. My rights were recited again, but betrayal and confusion clouded my understanding. Weren't they there to help? Instead, I found myself committed to another hospital for a month, forced to spend a lonely New Year's Day within its sterile walls.
Fueled by a burning desire to prove my innocence, I tirelessly pleaded my case. It felt surreal – I, the victim, was treated with suspicion. The worst part? The complete lack of control. Yet, I fought for what was right. The haunting question, "Why?" echoed in my head. Finally, my sister intervened, offering a safe haven. But my mom, consumed by her animosity, refused. Despite the fear, returning home seemed like the only option. It was a return to a broken reality – the same issues, different day. My resolve to escape solidified. I focused on getting emancipated, a job, anything that granted me independence. This defiance enraged her; she craved control, but I was done. The following two weeks were a tense stand-off...
My mom's manipulative tactics escalated. She made false police reports and withheld essential documents like my Social Security card to control me. Even simple requests for my Chromebook charger for schoolwork turned into arguments. Finally, during one episode, she stole the charger and called the police with fabricated stories. This time, the officer recognized her erratic behavior and my truthful testimony. I spent a brief stay in the hospital where they finally believed me. Released into my mom's care, I braced for another fight. Shockingly, she drove me to a police station, claiming I attacked her. But with the officer and my sister on speakerphone, the truth prevailed. They recognized her deteriorating mental state. The agonizing car ride became a desperate plea – why was she hurting herself and our family? Exhausted but resolute, I ended up at a friend's house for the night, then entered foster care the next day. Finding a welcoming home felt like a cruel twist of fate. Witnessing a healthy family dynamic at the ice rink only amplified my pain. My sister's husband arrived, offering a lifeline – a chance to escape the cycle of abuse. The decision was mine: get in the car or stay. As I walked to my friend's house, a healthy family dinner unfolded before me, a stark contrast to my reality. Finally, I confided in them about my situation. With their support and a secret code from my sister, I embarked on a daring escape. Two long, desert hours under the stars, navigating unfamiliar territory, led me to the school – my only beacon of hope. Exhausted and cold, I stumbled upon my brother-in-law, car just as he was about to leave. His familiar voice offered escape – "Get in if you want to change your life." With trembling hands, I climbed in, ready to embrace a new beginning
Reiners response
Despite enduring unimaginable abuse, I never relinquished hope. The kindness of strangers became my lifeline, reminding me that humanity persists even in the darkest of times. Through every hardship, I held onto the belief that doing the right thing matters. This journey has been a testament to the power of letting go, even when it means letting go of family. It's a painful truth, but sometimes letting go is the bravest and healthiest choice we can make to move forward. Witnessing firsthand the destructive power of abuse, trauma, and mental illness, I came to a difficult realization. As much as I hated her actions, I knew they stemmed from her illness. Hate breeds only hate, and I refused to become the monster she was battling within. The past can't define you. It's a heavy weight, but you don't have to carry it forever. All you can do is keep moving forward, one step at a time. Be the person you want to be, the person others see the potential in you to be. The future holds possibilities you can't even imagine yet. Embrace the journey, and never lose sight of the strength and hope you've discovered within yourself.

Bullies' humor doesn't make sense at All! I Don't know how can pulling someone's pants down be funny!... I hate bullies. Especially if they're full of themself and think they are the "main character"(I hate people who think they're the main character).In my class, there is this idiot(I'll try not to swear I don't like swearing) who is dumb, racist, thinks he's the main character, and probably spoiled. I can make a separate post on the stupid things he has done, but that isn't important now.
We were waiting for the physics teacher to show up and when nobody was looking...
T-T-THAT DUMMASS PULLED MY PANTS DOWN ⸨◺_◿⸩! That piece of garbage started laughing and immediately started to tear his stupid shirt apart. Unfortunately, I failed since the teacher came in and she(the teacher) let the entire class go outside. I stayed in for a minute with a friend commentating what just happened until I lost it I started swearing(I rarely swear) We went outside with the rest of the class and I sat down cause my class was playing basketball and some other game with a ball. THE SAME IDIOT who pulled my pants down tried to hit me with a ball MULTIPLE TIMES. I know that was on purpose even though he acted like he accidentally did that.
Now, I'm writing this a few hours later and don't know what I should do. Do I say it to the principal or what?

I got married 2 years ago and changed my legal name to my husband's name, but decided I wanted to keep practising in my maiden name. I have a couple of publications, and also just didn't want to give up my maiden name altogether.
I signed up for MRCP Part 1 earlier this year and, as per their advice, signed up for my online account using the name I am registered with on the GMC register, my maiden name. I believe you actually can't sign up for an account unless you do this.
A few weeks before the exam, I got the email saying "Dear Dr {Maiden name} please make sure you have ID ready to show at your exam..."
I emailed back explaining that all my ID (passport etc) is in my married name. They replied saying they had changed my name on the system to married name.
I phoned up, and was told that they didn't have a way to hold 2 names in their database, so I should contact them again immediately after taking the exam to change my name back to my maiden name, and continue to continuously alternate changing my name back and forth before and after every exam I take through the College.
I emailed again, calling them out on how ridiculous this is. In a world where many married women/people in same sex marriages practise in a maiden name, their systems are discriminating against these protected characteristics.
They told me they had issued a "discrepancy letter" so that my name on the system would match my ID, but any certificate etc would have my maiden name, and match my GMC.
Got my results today, and lo and behold....it has the wrong name on it.
Anyone else had a similar experience? I feel so frustrated and let down, when so many others must be in this situation. Not to mention the fact that I have paid nearly £500 for this privilege...

Ok I know the title may come across as a little conceded or self absorbed but hear me out before judging please.
So I'm a 27 year old woman, most people think I'm 18-20 years old, I have a baby face. Since I turned about 19 I started getting a lot of attention from men/boys. I know some people will think "oh poor you, you are sad because you're too beautiful." That's not what I'm trying to get across here. I am unconventionally attractive. And I've spent a long time building up my self confidence to be able to look at myself in the mirror and feel beautiful. And I don't think it's bad for anyone to know they are beautiful. And at times I do dress provocatively, I'm comfortable with my body, I'm happy with how I look and I'm not scared to show off. But here is where I have a problem.
I like to feel beautiful and I don't mind compliments from men, but I've gotten to a point where I'm very depressed about how people see me. I've been sexually harassed by so many men and it's starting to get to the point where I'm like can't you see past how I look and treat me like a living creature that's equal to you? I've been sexualized since I was a kid, my sister's spread rumors in the family that it was weird me and myale cousin were best friends. His parents even forbid us from seeing each other when we were teens. If I hung out with any guys my age my sister's had to bring up that it was inappropriate in some way. When I was 17 my sister's 30 something boyfriend said my Facebook pictures looked like pinup model photos and my sister thought this was a sweet compliment while I was disgusted. The same guy later sexually harassed me on Halloween when I was dressed as Harley Quinn, I was 19 then, I won't get into specifics, I've already shared this story, but this led to my sister physically fighting me, she was 30. Not to mention my other sister is still friends with this guy and let him be around me again.
Basically, I'm so scared now of men being attracted to me I'm afraid to talk to my male professors because I had one be a little to touchy with me, I'm scared to even hang out with male family members because I'm afraid even they will be creepy to me. And just recently I came to the realization that my old therapist was being creepy to me as well, always telling me I was sexy etc. Like I'm scared for a man to even talk to me, and if a man is being creepy to me I always tell myself I'm overthinking it so therefore I'm at risk more because I don't even know what's real anymore.
All of this has severally affected my dating life. I've never dated at all actually. Despite the fact that men have told me they think I'm some kind of wild sexual creature, I'm still a virgin. And when men find that out they either get even more creepy or aren't interested because I'm not the sexualized object they had fantasized about.
Now I either get men who aren't into me at all and ghost me, or men that can't stop talking about wanting to be with me, probably just for a night. And it's all really affected my self image lately.
I'm mostly just ranting here but I don't know, there's this character in a book called Bailey's cafe, her name is peaches and she cuts her face to make men leave her alone and I always really related to that tbh. I want to feel and be beautiful but I also want people to know there's more to me. I don't want to have to be suspicious of every man who talks to me, I wish other women would quit treating me like shit. Like what's so bad about just existing as a woman? Can't I just get some peace at some point.
I know someone will tell me to get over it or that I'm just trying to get attention. That I'm complaining about attention others want. I get that but I just wish I could let my feelings out there without being judged sooooo much by literally everyone. Anyway, thanks for reading. I'll probably delete this if the hate becomes too much for me lmao (oh also I forgot to add, the reason I mentioned I look younger, it makes things worse cuz most like 50 year old men creeping on me think I'm like 18 so that freaks me out.)
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I want to preface this by saying I know I am an awful person for what I have done and I have hurt not only myself but my girlfriend and I regret it immensely and no this is not some shitpost or fetish porn story this is a serious post and I came here for advice not attention.
I (18M) and my girlfriend (18F) met in our freshman year and quickly become friends and started dating in our sophomore year, we’ve kept our relationship to mostly hugs and kisses as my girlfriend has told me she wants to take our relationship slow which I respect/agree with. The only time we did anything besides that was in our junior year when we used to do stupid things including shoplifting and at one point we had sex when her parents were out of town for the weekend and we both regret all the stupid things and are surprised we didn’t get caught, now we’re both seniors in high school and will be graduating in a few weeks and this week my parents had guests coming over to my house and I could only sleep on the couch so I decided to stay with my girlfriend and her mom and dad instead.
So I won’t go into much detail about her parents but they surprisingly like me a lot and have let me stay over lots of times and visit for family dinners, I went over there yesterday and am staying until Friday. Yesterday I got there after school and my girlfriend wasn’t home because she went to a birthday party with her cousin and her mom would have gone too but she was taking care of a friends dog for the week but her dad went with her, I said hi and just went up to the room I’m staying in with my girlfriend which surprisingly there ok with but I’m not allowed to sleep in the same bed.
Now I’ll cut to the chase I stayed in the room for a few hours up until around 6 PM when I went downstairs for a snack and my girlfriends mom asked what I was doing and I said getting a snack and grabbed some cheezits and juice and was on my way up the stairs when she told me to come here, I went over to her and she told me to sit down on the couch next to her and I asked what’s up and she said she wanted to talk to me and get to know me more and we talked for a while just normal banter but she started to sort of I guess flirt with me and I felt really uncomfortable but I didn’t wanna be rude since she was letting me stay here so I just acted normal but eventually she told me to put my hands on her and I did which I really wish I didn’t. I don’t want to go into too much detail but when I did it she told me if I wasn’t comfortable I could leave and here’s where my bullshit self comes in, I didn’t leave and I kept touching her and massaging her breasts and eventually to her crotch and one thing led to another and well we had sex on the fucking couch and after I finished I felt so fucking guilty for what I did and just ran to the room and laid down and just cried.
Let me pause by saying I know I am a fucked up person, I was so desperate for sexual pleasure I couldn’t contain myself and just had sex with my girlfriends fucking mom I’m seriously the worst fucking boyfriend and just hurt myself and my girlfriend and her trust and our relationship is over because there’s no way I’ll be able to keep our relationship going if I tell her because this is something that can’t be forgiven and if I don tell her I’ll eventually do it because I feel way too guilty and I’m so sad and have only my fucking self to blame that I can’t marry her or start a family with her and when she came home I didn’t tell her yet but I feel too guilty and I’m staying home from school today to think about what to do. If you have any advice please give it to me, I don’t know what the fuck to do with myself and our relationship is pretty much fucking over so I’m coming to you Reddit for advice since obviously I can’t talk to anyone else about this.