I have an assignment where i have to create a data visualization dashboard as per the following instructions:
Data
Json file: jsondata.json
Data Visualization Dashboard
Use given json data
Create a MongoDB database from the Json data given.
Use MERN Stack or MEAN Stack or react native to design and develop a dashboard.
For charts or visualizations, you can use any of the following:
D3.js (highly recommended)
chart.js
fusioncharts
plotly.js
google charts
highcharts
etc.
Use any creative visual that you can create using the data to generate insights
You must use the given data only.
Develop any creative visualization that you like most, using provided data in json.
Interactive graphs, charts, and visuals are recommended
The dashboard should read the data from the MongoDB database.
Create API in node,js to get data from the MongoDB
Important variables to be visualized
Intensity
Likelihood
Relevance
Year
Country
Topics
Region
City
Filters in the dashboard
Add end year filter in the dashboard
Add topics filters in the dashboard
Add sector filter in the dashboard
Add region filter in the dashboard
Add PEST filter in the dashboard
Add Source filter in the dashboard
Add SWOT filter in the dashboard
Country
City
Any other control or filters that you can add from the data, best of your knowledge

Hello everybody, my (26 cis lesbian) gf (26 trans post-everything girl)’s behavior towards permanent hair removal is snowballing to me questioning if she’ll be able to be happy one day.
Seems very unreasonable since it’s just hair I guess but she has a history of being unhappy and it is constant at this point from the moment I met her. Since it was always justified before I always took it as a normal reaction to her bad situation, she had to move out of the US to her home country and forced into military service for almost 2 years. As a trans girl who was out to all her relatives except family it must have been extremely difficult and traumatic and she’s still in for 6 months.
As her partner (I met her 6 months before military) I always try to make everything I can to help daily, we always talk, I try to make her happy and we go out on her days out of the base and do things she wants to do. She’s happy but I feel like something is off, she always keeps me at arms length in certain areas of her life, I don’t know even know what any friends or family member looks like, let alone meeting them.
A few weeks ago I offered to pay for her laser removal of facial hair + another area every session, we already talked about it, I knew she wanted it and she hates her hair. Yet now she’ll find any excuse to not do it, the professional here are not to be trusted (they are and I picked one of the best in the country), she’s afraid to be burn/scarring but haven’t yet researched the subject, …
It seems to me that she gave up on realistic steps forwards and is thinking that a miracle will arrive and she won’t have to do anything to get to her goals.
I guess my question is : does it look like she doesn’t want to be happy anymore? She’s refusing to do something that would make her daily life much more enjoyable and now I feel like maybe she’s so desperate that she feels as if any step towards real progress is taking her further away from a comfortable delusion. Did any of you experience that ? How did you found a way out ?
She also deeply regret not having been able to transition before puberty and now that it keeps being delayed she’s deeply scared she’ll never pass which I think is unreasonable but also understandable fear.
Sorry my English is a bit messy, I’m not a native of this language.
Thank you for any comment that can help me see through this situation, I’m starting to think we should part ways for some time, I’m constantly caring and am tired but I don’t want to do that.

Let’s start with the good stuff first:
I work in a fairly large lab with a relatively huge amount of funding (P01s, several R01s, startups, you name it). Life with funding is pretty good. I make a good deal above the base NIH postdoc salary, and have access to great collaborators, tech, other networks, etc. I’ve been in this position for about a year, and there are some really promising avenues for postdoc —> faculty positions. The work is interesting, cutting edge, and my PI has invested A LOT of time, money, and resources into my training thus far. (I’m really the only subject-matter expert for his biggest grant, and we have worked together to troubleshoot and get some pretty critical assays up and running after years of relative stagnation). Because of this, I’ve become one of his “favorites.”
Now… onto the bad stuff…
However, with ample funding comes increased pressure to deliver data and we are severely understaffed. The majority of personnel in my lab are miserable, and several key personnel are considering leaving. Pipelines are highly disfunctional, and despite an organized effort by several staff members to correct things, nothing changes. Our PI heard our grievances, listened to our organized proposal for change…. And basically dismissed everything while doubling down on the negatives we all tried to correct. There is a huge emphasis on overworking “driven” staff members to their limits, complete disregard for work life balance, and a really shitty communication style that is rapidly disintegrating collaborations with other big names in the field. (24 hour turnarounds for data requests, unreasonable timelines, harassing collaborators on nights and weekends… you get the idea).
The Problem:
I’m working beyond my limits, tackling several assays, trying to lead other scientists on two projects, I’m exhausted… and it’s still not enough. My PIs solution is to offload some of my responsibilities on other staff that are already overburdened and have a foot out the door.
I think it’s pretty obvious I should recognize a sinking ship when I see one… but several of us are planning on leaving in the next few months which would probably result in a HUGE loss for my lab (existing personnel and PI), likely costing them any chance of renewing several critical projects. So, in time, mass walkout —> mass layoffs for those that remain… and the loss of what would have been really critical data for the field.
If I stay, I’d continue to be overworked, but leading a lot of these efforts would result in some pretty awesome papers and connections for new positions. I could deal with that for maybe another year or so. It could be great for my career, and staying would help us renew the projects that everyone else relies on for their salary support, etc.
But that also means another year of being miserable, making less than I am worth (postdoc salary) in an area I despise living in (spending 2.5 hours in my daily commute), tight finances, etc etc.
I can see that academia is a broken system, and am heavily considering jumping ship to government or industry. Possibly the sooner the better…. Or do I stick it out and squeeze every positive outcome from this postdoc as possible, cause less damage to the group, and keep positive ties with my influential PI??
(I think I already know the answer, but advice would be appreciated).

My husband and I have been trying forever for a baby. And a few months ago I finally got the two lines that indicated our dreams were becoming a reality. I knew it would be high risk but I didn’t care about the risk, this was a dream I would regret not at least trying absolutely everything to fulfill.
The first few months my husband was extremely supportive. Waiting on me hand and foot, massages even though I wasn’t even showing yet. As the second trimester marched on his excitement only grew, slowly watching the baby grow at doctor’s appointments with me.
On the way out of a doctor’s appointment I tripped and landed terribly. Luckily we were right outside the doctor’s office so we could get help immediately. I faint at the sight of blood, so I don’t remember much after touching between my legs and finding crimson stains on my fingertips. When I woke up I was dazed but was so happy to feel my baby still doing gymnastics in my stomach.
My husband, however, must have become frightened that something would happen and slowly started to detach himself from my whole pregnancy. He only offered grunts in support as I picked out colors for the nursery. We had a late term pregnancy loss before so he was just scared of losing a baby again. It was easier to detach than accept something may happen. But you can’t live in the what if’s.
As I began to unpack the furniture for the nursery and set up the cameras for the baby monitor, I could see my husband's discomfort grow. His physical demeanor only got worse the more I progressed with the furniture.
Finally he stood up and shouted what he apparently had been holding in the last two months. “You aren’t pregnant anymore Liv! You lost the baby with the fall, there was nothing the doctor could do! A therapist told me to let you grieve how you saw fit but I can’t do this anymore! It is torture to watch you decorate our dead child’s nursery.”
I didn’t say a word, and just put his hand on my stomach because as I explained to him, I don’t care what the doctor says. I know my body and my baby. As he began to roll his eyes and was just about to lift his hand the baby kicked hard. My husband's face went from disbelief to horror.
All he could mutter as tears of true depression and fear began rolling down his cheeks was, “Liv, I saw them remove our poor sweet baby with my own eyes.”
As his last word slipped out, I could feel a searing pain. I was going into labor, and for the first time I was worried what that meant.
When I wake up I realize I am no longer home. In between bouts of unconsciousness, I take in the scene around me. The doctor screaming “WE HAVE TO SAVE IT!” and it all comes rushing back. I got told I was not pregnant by my husband and immediately went into labor. Which in my haze is a very hard sequence of events to process, hell even in my right mind that would be a difficult one.
I start stirring and the doctor notices and looks down at me, beaming with pride. My husband in a chair clearly drugged also is starting to rouse and try and piece together what happened. All he can keep repeating is, “what is it?” in a stupor. Like he truly couldn’t process what happened and what was currently happening.
As I become more aware, I try and find my voice. While raspy I am able to gasp out the words, “Where is my baby?!”
The doctor looks at me the pride evaporating and a cold expression taking over his face. “Your baby died months ago. Your husband watched us remove it. However, he did not see that I went on to take advantage of your willing and ready womb by implanting something much more important than you or your child would ever become.”
I blink taking in this information. I felt this thing grow in me, thought it was a part of me, loved it more than I loved myself. But that’s when I thought it was my child, my stomach begins turning and bile begins to raise into my throat.
“Would you like to hold what you brought to life, what you birthed?” The doctor said with a look of pure curiosity crossing his face.
“Yes..” I gasp before I can rationally consider his proposition.
Walking over with a bundle, he places it into my arms, and I look down with severe trepidation. Even though I have never seen it, I know it’s the thing I felt so connected to and somehow still do. Pulling the blanket away I see what could only be described as an abomination.
It was three different children stitched together to almost become one but not quite. Clearly in pain and not meant to exist. As a look of horror crosses my face the doctor sighs.
“I was hoping for a better reaction, that maternal instinct may win out. Too bad. Considering one of those babies IS yours. These three babies couldn’t make it on their own but together they could. I tried many times, but you are the first one to actually be able to last full term and have the baby survive. I hoped maternal instinct would have won over, it would have been easier.”
The bile rises again and I listen on in terror.
The doctor continues, “Since you’re the only one this has been successful with, there will be many more attempts we will require your hospitable womb for.”

Hello again everybody!
Before we get started on today's post the current voting for Whimsicott currently has votes for B tier with a pretty solid lead!
So with that being said it looks like the fluffy hair fairy will be joining the B tier! Like with all previous votes I'll continue to check the numbers and if anything changes I'll update it on tomorrow's post.
(Please note that this voting/tiering is centered around Classic as after a certain point in Endless only about 5 Pokemon and 2 abilities are truly viable.)
So current tiers are:
S tier - Garganacl, Cloyster, Skeledirge, Gholdengo, Tinkaton
A tier - Gyarados/Mega, VenusauMega/Dyna, Aegislash, Corviknight/Dyna, Excadrill, GardevoiMega, Toxapex, ScizoMega, GengaMega/Dyna
B tier - Kanto-Persian/Dynamax Kanto-Meowth, Weavile, Starmie, Rhyperior, Quagsire, Mamoswine, Whimsicott
C tier - Linoone
F tier - Dustox
With that being said let's get to today's vote!
Today is day 30 of Tier Voting and today we will be talking about a Pokemon that won many fans over with its design all the way back in Generation 3. Aggron has extremely high physical defense and a pretty solid Attack stat at the tradeoff of a little rough on the Special Defensive side. And while it has a bit of an infamous typing in Steel/Rock and a rough Speed stat, its Mega form makes it a pure Steel type and increases its Attack and Defenses even more, making its Special Defense quite a bit more passable. It does lose STAB on Head Smash in Mega form but its survivability definitely increases in this form. It also has a Passive in this game which helps mitigate its weaknesses and when in its Mega form combined with its natural Ability to completely neutralize all of its weaknesses. It also has some amazing Egg moves (including one of the strongest moves in the entire game in Salt Cure). It does have a little bit of flexibility as it can run either of its normal Abilities for a bit different of setups and doesn't typically prefer its Hidden Ability which makes it a bit more accessible as well.
(Please note that Pokemon with Mega/Dynamax evolutions will be tiered as one Pokemon and not tiered separately for their Mega/Dynamax form. Different variants such as Alolan Persian vs. Kanto Persian will be tiered separately however.)
(Also here is the post with rules for voting/tiering posts and a little more explanation about them in general: https://www.reddit.com/pokerogue/s/0LNZhPPzR9 Links to past votes can all be found here as well in comments added to the OP with each new vote)
And here is a quick reminder of what each tier generally means:
S tier: Top tier, can make or break your entire run, essentially the cream of the crop
A tier: really strong but not quite top tier, maybe slightly outclassed or has a slight weakness holding it back
B tier: solid choices that can make it to your endgame team, might be reliant on team composition to truly function well or might just be outclassed as well
C tier: usually early-mid game Mons, ones you don't really want to take to end game if you can avoid it, usually pretty decently glaring weakness but something redeeming enough to keep from F tier
F tier: no reason to use in end game unless you're doing it for a meme/joke
Abstain/No Opinion: this will be a voting option mostly just in case someone accidentally votes and then can't remove their vote (I've noticed that happens on Reddit sometimes) or for Pokemon people haven't unlocked/used to their full potential yet. If Abstaining votes outvote each individual tier then the Pokemon will be tabled for the time being and another vote will open up for it later (can mostly see this happening with Legendaries).
(Data in parentheses is for the Mega form)
*
Aggron (Mega)
Type: Steel/Rock (Steel)
Mega: Yes
Dynamax: No
Starter cost {Aron}: 3
Possible Egg moves: Head Smash, Shore Up, Body Press, Salt Cure
Abilities: Sturdy or Rock Head (Filter)
Hidden Ability: Heavy Metal (Filter)
Passive Ability: Solid Rock - reduces the effectiveness of Super Effective moves against the Pokemon by 25%
Evolution: Aron evolves into Lairon at level 32. Lairon evolves into Aggron at level 42. Aggron can Mega evolve with Mega Bracelet and Aggronite.
Base stats:
HP - 70 (70)
Attack - 110 (140)
Defense - 180 (230)
Sp. Attack - 60 (60)
Sp. Defense - 60 (80)
Speed - 50 (50)
Learnset by level up: Harden, Metal Claw, Rock Tomb, Tackle, Roar, Headbutt, Protect, Rock Slide, Iron Head, Metal Sound, Take Down, Autotomize, Iron Tail, Iron Defense, Heavy Slam, Double-Edge, Metal Burst
Notable TMs: Mud-Slap, Curse, Dragon Rush, Superpower, Dragon Claw, Sunny Day, Rain Dance, Sandstorm, Earthquake, Dig, Brick Break, Double Team, Aerial Ace, Facade, Rest, Sleep Talk, Shadow Claw, Payback, Stone Edge, Avalanche, Thunder Wave, Stealth Rock, Rock Slide, Bulldoze, Swagger, Rock Climb, Fire Punch, Ice Punch, Thunder Punch, Protect, Whirlpool, Rock Blast, Smart Strike, Stomping Tantrum, Low Kick, Outrage, Crunch, High Horsepower, Body Press, Head Smash
*
By request, we will be doing the rest of the traditional starters (the first ones you have unlocked in the game) that we haven't done yet for the next votes, we're hoping this will give people a little more time to try out some other Pokemon so there's less Abstaining votes winning out and we feel like it should help to flesh out the lower tiers a little more since they're mostly in direct competition with each other and some are certainly better than the others. We'll start with the 3 from the list below that were specifically requested and then just start from Gen 1 and go forward from there doing the ones we haven't done yet. (Except for Charizard until its Passive ability is implemented)
Tomorrow's vote: Infernape!
Pokemon on the radar for voting very soon: Comfey, Crobat, Ferrothorn, Gliscor, Delphox, Roserade, Vileplume, Minior, Hitmonchan, Bibarel, Chandelure, Archaludon/Dynamax Duraludon, Alakazam/Mega, Flamigo, Volcarona, Alolan-Decidueye, Barbaracle, Butterfree/Dyna, Beedrill/Mega, Mawile/Mega, Drednaw/Dyna, Annihilape, Cramorant, Aerodactyl/Mega, Glimmora, Heatran, Tapu Koko, Dialga/Primal, Galarian-Zapdos, Regieleki, Regidrago, Zacian, Zamazenta, Rayquaza/Mega, Latias/Mega, Latios/Mega, Ho-Oh, Volcanion, Toxtricity/Dyna, Carbink, Porygon-Z, Cinccino, Snorlax/Dyna, Wishiwashi
(Other requests will be added to this list and this list is not necessarily in order)
Happy voting!

I'm having family problems (they're being kicked out the house (today probably) (also I don't live with them, I'm currently living with my single aunt and she pays the rent, most of the food when im home and the rest) they're renting for undue payments, dad works at a shop which he'll be kicked out of in a month too because the bosses changed, my mother can't work, tries to here and there as a maid, or by helping her friends because no one would accept her at any normal job, for 1 not having a high school deploma and two for having six kids, including me as the oldest at 21 years old.) the company i work in is a distribution company run by family members that have internal problems which effect our work environment, I've been asking the whole time I've been working here for a set schedule but they're expecting me to overwork and do a shit ton of their tasks as if that company is my life, and i live in a small town, Nador, Morocco. And I'm thinking about moving out to Casablanca or Tanger, I can't help my family because i can barely help myself, finding a job here is very difficult since they barely hire anyone plus I'm still in college with 0 diplomas except my high school degree and my "real life" experience. My parents couldn't pay for any of my education, i got accepted in so many schools after high school but in order to study you need money to live, so i had to make the hard decision of choosing something to study which would allow me to work at the same time, it was English Studies because it always has been effortless for me, but even that needs work and i barely have time to eat or work out at the current company. Right now I don't have any money i gave it all up to my family, and I'm planning on asking them at work, get that money which isn't anything more than $200, get a bus and go start my journey somewhere else in a more open environment even though it might be extremely difficult that way. I need ideas and or personal experience so i can make the best decision possible please.

2024 passed out here
I gave cat 2023 and converted IRMA and I'm waitlisted for FABM and ABM but according to past year movements I won't convert both .
I live in a joint family. My father had a major surgery 2 years ago and he didn't go to work after that. My father's medical expenses range from 15-20k per month. Since we live in a joint family, all the expenses are being taken care from the common earnings of all .
I decided to give another attempt and spoke with my father. He said a few things which I'm not aware of earlier. My father said that " One day there was a small dispute and one of the brothers said that he wants to move out of the joint family and live separately. They're taking care of us for the past 2-3 years , we can't blame them , we should be forever grateful for what they have done to us so far. Idk whether he meant seriously to move out or not .I can manage to hold the family together for a year atleast. If you join MBA this year, we can manage another year by selling your mother's jewels . Then you'll get a job and manage the expenses. I know I'm the reason for you to let go off your dreams and I'm sorry for that. Think about these things and then make a decision " .
I got no words to say and just said I could understand his situation too . Previously when I completed my schooling, I wanted to repeat neet and my father said it won't suit our family situation (before the kidney failure )and asked me to go with my second choice B.Sc agri . I'm regretting not giving neet another try till now .
If I get a job as of now the maximum I would earn is a maximum 20k per month. I'm confused whether to go after dream clgs or take responsibility.

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You may know how horrible the food safety is in India. Our food is being poisioned (cancerous chemicals found in Indian spices, sugar levels are very high in Indian foods), The national security of India (China bullying in arunachal pradesh), Promoting Gutka and pan masala that is seriously dangerous to health and cause ruckus all over India, scam call centres scamming indians as well as overseas etc..
people will say "Vote wisely, you chose this", but will changing the government do any benefit? Do you think the Indi alliance will strictly regulate the companies? I do not see any campaign by the opposition saying that.
For National security congress is worse as we can saw in the past, also there is no campaign by the opposition calling out India's unable to withstand China's bullying.
The opposition is not calling out the government for pan masala and gutka ads.
For dictatorship, there is enough evidence that other state parties like TMC and DMK are more dictatorial.
On topic of promoting r*pists like brij bhushan, what about Sandeshkhali and Ajmer 1992?
On infrastructure screw-ups like Odisha train collision, Morbi bridge collapse, everyone forgot about it a week later.
You can list thousands of problems and criticise BJP (Rightfully they need to be criticised), but what do you think is the alternative? Congress?
See I agree that BJP is very bad and is currently going for the easy route for votes ignoring the real problems of India, often putting citizens in danger and this has to be changed soon. This is where the opposition parties should campaign and hit bjp to focus on the real problems of India.
Instead what is the opposition doing? Minority appeasement, caste appeasement, reservations, freebies.. Their entire manifesto is based on freebies and appeasement. If only they had based their manifesto on attacking the real problems stated above, they could have had a high chance this election and India could have been a better place
The opposition's lack of countering these problems, mentioning in their manifesto and campaigning around it, giving speeches about it etc, show that are not interested in solving them. Instead they are also going the easy route of appeasements to get votes.
This, and also a big anti-hindu factor leaves us no choice but to vote for BJP

41m. my ex 38f decided to dismantle our marriage after 6 years and 2 kids (5 and 3). well, after offspring 2 went through her birth canal, there was a sudden change in her relation towards me. no more date nights, no more sex, a lot of subtle demeaning expressions towards me etc etc. when confronted that I see she doesn't love me anymore, she kept lying through her teeth, and even in counseling seemed to be going towards repairing the relationship. up until her body rejected me and she would start crying uncontrollably when I was in bed with her. of course, at this stage, I throwed in the towel and filed for divorce. i'ts as amicable as can be, but I can't shake the feeling I was used as a semen donor and thrown to die like roadkill after she got what she wanted.
she always made more money, about 20-30% more, and made me feel I was useless, and my salary was an "allowance". It wasn't. I make good money in the pharma industry and have good benefits. she works in hi-tech and makes even more. I don't even know what I'm trying to say here tbh... I feel like I live in a parallel universe, and get the gut wrenching feeling that this reality is just not the right one, it's like I'm in a "Sliders" episode. I'm fairly OK, live in a nice house, 50% custody, good connection with my kids, I have ample of female opportunities. but yesterday I learned that she started dating again. He's a high-tech geek as well and seems to be quite well off financially. I'm.. eh... jealous?
when I found out I started sweating cold sweat, my pulse went up and I became nauseous. I had my fair share of girls in the past months, all of them hotter and more into me than she ever was. but still, I'm distraught. any advice would be very welcomed in this stage.
and as Prof' Maximillian Arturo (Sliders) said;
"to love and to hold is the best.
to love and to lose is the next best"

First/Previous
The travel took on a less gloomy quality in the day that passed since Gemma’s self-reflection and although there remained a queer distance in her eyes, she seemed in better spirits in losing the weight of the words.
It was a night just beyond Wabash Crevasse that we pushed on till sunset was almost upon us and we were each tired and the food stocks ran low and so we found harbor in a half collapsed cellar where a home once stood; it was only after examining the slatted, rotted boards of the old place, fallen over, tired with decay, that we spied the cellar doors intact; sheets of door metal plied us with safety from the outside world and the interior of the place stank of mold and the deeper recesses were collapsed, but there was a cradle to crossbar the stair hatch and I put my prybar there for the night. We finished the water and canned tomatoes, and I smoked a cigarette, staving off the inevitable doom which would come with the dwindling of our supplies.
I’d peeked through the space where the doors met at the cellar’s entry and watched the full darkness there while the youngins spoke of life and the trivial pursuits of it and I hardly said a word besides.
Sitting on the lowest step with Trouble dumbly maintaining her station by me, by the low glow of the space in the threshold, I saw they’d pushed their bedrolls together and Andrew had fallen asleep with his arm over Gemma’s shoulder and her eyes glowed with shine from the crack, blinked a few times while seeing me; she too eventually drifted to sleep, and I spent time by the secured door.
Gunshots rang across the stillness, and they stirred from their quiet slumber and Gemma asked, “Harlan, is it alright?”
I moved to the space there at the doorway again and listened and watched what I could through that crack and nothing beyond came. “It’s safe. I’ll be up a bit longer. I’ll watch.”
Andrew asked, “Can’t sleep?”
“I’ll sleep in a bit. Don’t worry about me. Rest. Sleep good and we can put more behind us.
They sat up, legs crossed triangle-wise, and Gemma spoke again, “Why do you have such a hard time sleeping? It seems I’m asleep after you and only awake after you too.”
“Yeah,” said Andrew.
“It’s cool at night. I can listen to the wind.” I shrugged.
“You should be the one that tries to get some sleep,” said Andrew.
I said nothing.
They reached out their arms and I shook my head.
“Here,” Gemma said, “Move your bedroll closer.” She reached across the dirt floor of the cellar and dragged my splayed roll so that it sat beside hers.
“I’ll sleep later.” I turned my attention back to the door and ignored them till their sounds of sleep could be heard. The Alukah was nowhere and did not tap on the door that night and when I moved to sleep, I shimmied onto the roll beside them, facing away on my shoulder; the dog followed, laid on the bare dirt beside me and I held the mutt.
Though I refused a noise as they stirred in the absolute darkness, I felt Gemma’s arm fall over my own shoulder and felt Andrew’s hand touch my back, and water traced the bridge of my nose and I slept deeply thereafter.
There was no breakfast without food, and the water was gone; I felt the eyes of the dog on us as we packed up our belongings that next morning and I tried not to imagine the poor animal skinned over fire. I smiled at Trouble, patted its head, scratched its chin; she sniffed my hand like she was looking for something that wouldn’t be found.
We went west again, ignoring roads and pushed through straight wasteland where nothing was and no one was, and with every dry footfall on the dry hard ground, I wished for rain, and I wished that when it had rained, as infrequent as it was, that I had been wise enough to save what we could from the sky; that sky was red and swollen and refused to burst. We pushed on through strange dead thickets where grayed and twisty yellow branches lurched from the ground into the sky like even they too wished for an end to all the suffering. It was days more till we would see Alexandria and though I could stave off hunger (thirst too, if necessary), I was not so certain that the children would be able to push on without it; they did not complain and watched the ground in our march and maintained higher spirits than I could’ve imagined from them.
Early in the day, they spoke often, and I listened and as they wore on, their words came less and even the dog seemed in a lower mood for the unsaid predicament; me too.
Gemma broke the silence on the matter by saying, “What are we going to do about food? Water?”
“We’ll push on.”
“We could turn back?” asked Andrew.
“The more time we spend out in the open, outside of a city, the more likely it is that the Alukah will catch us unawares. Tighten your belts.” Our feet took us around a dilapidated truck, an old thing with a rusty hook which dangled off a rear arm. “Save your urine.”
They made faces but did not protest.
“Does that work? You ever drink pee?” asked Andrew.
I laughed, “I thought we’d be there by now. I took us too long by trying to drop the scent of the Alukah. That thing’s hunted us for days—last night was the first time it ain’t bothered us. It’s got me wondering why.”
Gemma piped up, licking her dry lips before speaking, “Do you think that monster ran into those scavengers we saw?” Then I caught her shooting a look at Andrew, “At least we warned them.” Her smile was faint and almost indiscernible as one.
I shrugged. “Can’t say. Don’t think it’s smart to turn back. Won’t be long and we’ll touch the 40 and then it’ll be a straight on to Babylon—couple of days—can’t turn back though. Maybe without food; that’s doable. Water’s the worst, but if it comes to it,” I paused and looked on the weathered faces of the children, on the lowered head of Trouble which followed her nose across the ground (it searched just short of frantic), “Like I said, ‘save your urine’.”
The first pains of hunger held within me brought up some reminiscence and I wished for nothing more than to hold Suzanne; I could nearly smell them and in the swaying walk which took us on past toppled townships, I held long blinks where I could nearly make out their face and if I really pushed the limits of my imagination, I could feel them. In those moments, as we passed dead places, rotted pits of despair, I could think of little more than their presence. Though I knew it was a dangerous game, hoping for more than I was worth, I hoped for Suzanne then and I wished that I’d taken them up on their offer to travel to Alexandria with them; it could’ve been home—it never was in all the times I’d gone there, but who knows? The thoughts of Babylon brought forth their gardens; the wild gardens and the water which flowed freely through their pipes. I wished I was a different person entirely and that too would’ve been better for Suzanne; how it was that they’d seen anything in me, I don’t know. How it was that they could stoop to the level of being with someone like me—I warded off that thought, because to place the blame there would certainly be unfair. I thought of my love plainly and wanted a different life more suited to them.
Imaginations played more furiously, and I remembered the evening when Dave stopped me from leaping from that roof—it’s doubtful that he even realized that he’d slowed my demise; perhaps he did know—I wished then that I could ask him. Too kind for the world. People too kind for the world were scarce and hardly worth the trouble. Yet, there I was, chaperoning those two across the wastes.
Gemma was a broken person when I’d found her, tortured in Baphomet’s well; Andrew was a dullard boy who’d lost his hand. What a silly predicament.
I stopped in my movements and swiveled on my heel to catch Andrew by the shoulder. “You still got your hand, don’t you?”
In good humor, the boy grinned, lifted the nub on the end of his left forearm to show me, “Nope.”
“Dammit, no! The hand in the jar!”
Andrew raised his eyebrows. “In my pack.”
“Stop,” I commanded Trouble; the dog hardly recognized my words and continued a way then circled back, sad eyes looking up from where she took to sit by my side. Gemma, both arms dangling loosely from her own pack’s shoulder straps, took into the circle we’d formed.
The girl asked, “What about the jar? It’s nasty, but I guess it’s his.”
“I think that’s it,” I said. I took Andrew by his shoulders, looked him in his eyes, “We could use it!”
“What?” The boy almost laughed in the display of our concern. “What’s that got to do with anything?”
“I think I’ve got it! It’s good for a trap.” I shook him; maybe too hard. I almost smiled. “It’s worth a shot!”
“It’s mine.” He bit his top lip, withdrew from me.
“You’ll feel differently about that,” I said.
Gemma placed a hand on Andrew’s pack and tried ripping it open. “Give it to him!” shouted the girl.
The boy whipped from her grasp, and he spun on his feet, and panic stood on his face. “It’s mine, isn’t it?”
I took a step forward, “No, not anymore.” I put out my palm, “Give it.”
Andrew nearly flinched at the thought of it and shook his head a little. “Why?”
“I told you why,” I said.
“You don’t even know if it’ll work, do you?” his words were long in protest.
The girl started again, “Andrew, please.”
He locked eyes with Gemma and once again, his bottom teeth came up to meet over his top lip and he moved his jaw methodically with contemplation.
“What does it even matter?” she asked.
“It’s mine. You don’t know what it’s like.”
“Don’t be ridiculous!”
“C’mon,” he said, but his pack straps fell from his shoulders, and he hunkered down on the ground and opened his bag; his right hand plunged into the recesses therein and withdrew the jar with his severed left hand. He held the object up, refusing to come up from his open pack, keeping his eyes on the ground. “Take it then.” He shook the jar; its contents sloshed with liquid decay.
I grabbed the thing, held it to skylight; the remains within had congealed and rotted and lumps nearly floated in the brownish liquid which had formed in the base of the container. I shook it and stared for a moment at the miniscule debris which floated alongside the hand; each of its digits had swollen and erupted to expose bone; some had come away in pieces. “Tomorrow,” I said and nodded.
We gathered ourselves and Andrew pulled his pack on again and we moved, Trouble still looked sorry and the boy remained quiet while the girl chattered on with questions while we took through the dying ground in a formation with the dog on point then me then the children.
“What will you do with it?” she asked me.
“Not sure yet.”
Andrew made a noise like he wanted to say something but didn’t.
“You think it will work?” asked Gemma.
“Nothing’s a guarantee. They’re smart—Alukah.”
“Smart enough to figure out a trap?”
I shrugged. “We’ll find out.”
“We could put stakes in a pit.”
“Keep on the lookout for a building. Something with multiple floors.”
With that, we moved on, found a worn, mostly destroyed road and we fell into a travelling quiet and the thought of hunger or thirst arose again, and I pushed it down—though I knew the uneasiness could only last so long before savagery would overtake the human condition; the kids seemed strong enough, but I kept an eye on the dog too. Savagery belonged not only to humans, after all.
The ground of the wastes was harder when it was quiet, and it was flatter further west. The sky—red and full of thin and transparent drifting clouds—seemed an awful sight when stared at for too long; it was the thing which stretched as if to signal there wasn’t an end in any direction, as if to declare we had much more to go till safety. Wanderlust is a thing that I believe I’ve felt before, but under that sky, with those two and the dog, I didn’t feel it at all. It was doom that I felt. Ignorance and doom. And it was all because I was certain I’d made all the wrong mistakes, and it was coming back to me. I was experienced. We should’ve had food and water. Perhaps there was some deep and nasty part inside of me that had intended to sacrifice them along the way. The words of the Alukah might have rung true: You say you make no deals, but I smell it. I think you’d deal.
Surely, I felt differently. Surely.
“Getting darker,” called Andrew as we came to where signposts—worn and bent and barely legible—told us of a place once called Annapolis and the buildings were nearly gone entirely; places, maybe places that were once homes, were leveled—I was briefly caught in imagining what it might’ve been like all those ages ago. As are most places, it was haunted like that and when we came to a long rectangular structure of metal walls—thin walls—we took it as a place for rest for the night.
It once served as an agricultural station, for when we breached its entry, there were a line of dead machines—three in all—cultivators or tillers which stood higher than any of our heads and Gemma asked what they were, and I told her I thought they were for farming. The great rusted bodies stood in quiet shadow as we came through a side passage of the building and the great doors which had once been used to release those machines from the building stood frozen in their frame. I approached the doors, lighting my lantern and motioning for the children to shut the door we’d entered through.
Upon closer inspection, it seemed the doors would roll into the ceiling and the chains which held the doors in place were each secured with rusted padlocks—I removed my prybar from my pack and moved along the wall of doors, giving each old lock a smack with the weapon; each one held in place, seemingly fused there through years of corrosion, and I rounded the cultivators once more, back to the children, near the side door where they’d discovered a rickety stair frame which crawled up the side of the wall to a catwalk; along the catwalk, a levitated box stood at the height of the structure, stilted by metal legs, and we took the stairs slowly with the dog following close behind; the poor mutt was mute save the sound of its own shuffling paws.
The metal stairs creaked under our weight and Gemma held her own lantern high over her head so that the strange shadows of the place grew longer, stranger, and suddenly I felt very sure that something was in the dark with us, but there was no noise except what we made. My eyes scanned the darkness, and I followed the children up the stairs till we met the overhang of the catwalk and I peered into the shadows, the blades of the cultivators—far extended on foldable arms—struck up through the pool of blackness beneath us and I felt so cold there and if it were not for the breath of my fellow travelers, I might have been lost in the dark for longer than intended—lost and frozen and contemplative.
“There’s a room,” said the boy, and he pushed ahead on the hanging passage, and he was the first to the door. “Boxes,” he said plainly.
Upon coming to the place where he stood, Gemma pushed her lantern over the threshold, and I saw what he’d meant as I traced my own lantern to help; the room was crammed with plastic totes and old metal containers of varied sizes. There seemed to be enough empty space to maneuver through the room, but only if one watched their feet while they walked. Carefully.
We moved to the room, and I found a stack of crates to place my lantern then motioned for Gemma to douse hers. In minutes, the place was rearranged so that we could sit comfortably on the floor; crates lined the walls precariously and we breathed heavy from the work done, but we began to unpack and upon watching the children while I rolled a cigarette, I felt a pang of guilt, a terrible summation—all choices in my life had led me here and with them and perhaps it would have been a better world for them without me.
Mentally shrugging this thought away, I lit my cigarette, inhaled deeply, and then withdrew the jar which Andrew had handed over. I held it to the lantern to examine it. The grotesqueness of it hardly phased me and I watched it more curious and hopeful than disgusted.
“I hope it’ll work,” said the boy, “Whatever it is that you plan on doing with it.” He grimaced and maintained a further silence in patting his bedding for fluff. The dog moved to him, and she pushed her forehead against him where he squatted on floor. The boy scratched Trouble’s chin and whispered, “Good girl,” into the top of her head where he’d pushed his own face.
“I’m hungry,” said Gemma; she placed her chin in her arm while watching Andrew with the dog. She sat on her own flat bed there on the floor and stated plainly the thing that I’d hoped to ignore for longer.
“I know.” I took another drag from the cigarette and let the smoke hang over my head. “The dog?”
Andrew recoiled, pulling Trouble closer into his arms.
I smiled. “It was a joke.”
Andrew relaxed, but only a moment before Gemma added, “Maybe.”
The boy narrowed his eyes in the girl’s direction, and she shrugged. “If it’s life or death.”
He didn’t say anything and merely continued stroking Trouble’s coat.
That night, we slept awfully and even in the complete darkness, I felt the cramp of the storage room and the angled shapes of the tools that protruded from the containers on all sides remained permanent well after we’d turned the light off and it felt like those shapes were the teeth of a great creature like we were sitting inside of its mouth, looking out.
Trouble positioned herself partially on my chest, her slow rhythmic breathing brought my thoughts calm and I whispered to her in the dark after I was sure the others were asleep, “I promise it was a joke.” And I brushed the back of her neck with my hand and the animal let go of a long sigh then continued that deep rhythmic breathing.
Still without food or water, the following day was the true indication of the misery to come. Gemma’s stomach growled audibly in waking and Andrew—though he kept his complaints to himself—smacked his lips more often or protruded the tongue in his mouth in a starvation for water. The room, in the daylight which peered through pinpricks of its half-decayed roof, seemed another beast altogether from its nighttime counterpart; it was not so frightening. Again, I admonished myself for the lack of preparation, but there was another thought that brought together a more cohesive feeling; we had a possible plan, a trap for the demon that’d been following us.
We went into the field to the west of the building where there was only dirt beneath our feet in the early sunlight and in the coolness of morning air, I nearly felt like a person. The sun crested the horizon and brought with it a warmth that would quickly become overwhelming—in those few minutes though—it felt good enough. I wished for the shy dew and saw none. The weirdness of holding Andrew’s rotting hand in a jar momentarily caught me and I almost laughed, but refrained and the dog and the children looked on while I held the container up and suddenly, seeing the congealed mass of tissue floating in its own excretions, I was overcome with the urge to run, the urge that nothing would ever be right again in my life, and that I was marked to be that way.
I blinked and tossed the jar to Andrew. “Say goodbye,” I said. He fumbled after it with his right hand and caught it to his chest.
“It’s strange you care so much anyway,” said Gemma, shrugging—her eyes forgave a millisecond of pity and when Andrew looked at her, still holding the jar in his right hand, she smiled and stuffed her hands into the pockets of her pants.
“We’ve enough oil, I think,” my voice was raspy from it being early, “Enough for good fire, but if we use it, it’ll mean a few more dark nights on our way.”
“We’re going to set it on fire?” Andrew pondered, keeping his eyes to the contents of the jar. “It worked good enough last time. It’ll work,” I nodded, “I has to, doesn’t it?”
His dry lips creased into a brief smile, and he tossed the jar back to me and I caught it.
“Let’s dig,” I said.
Without much in the way of proper tools, we began at the ground under us with our hands, then taking turns with my prybar till there was a hole in the ground comfortably large enough to conceal a human head and I uncapped the jar and spilled it contents there and we covered it back and I lightly tamped it with my boot. My eyes scanned the outbuilding we’d taken refuge in the night prior and then to the street to the north then to the houses which stood as merely rotted plots of foundation with frames that struck from the ground more as markers than support. “I’ll take up over there across the street when it gets dark. I want you two in that storage room before anything goes off.”
“We can’t help?” asked Gemma.
“You can help by staying out of the way—the mutt too,” I said; the words were harsh, but my feelings were from worry.
“Wouldn’t it be better if we stuck together?” asked the girl.
I shook my head. “You stay in the room and keep quiet. No matter what you hear, you stay quiet and safe.”
“That’ll put you at a bigger risk,” Gemma furrowed her brow at me and shifted around to look out on the houses across the street, “There’s hardly any cover over there.”
The boy nodded, smacked his lips, and rubbed his forearm across his mouth then audibly agreed with her.
“Doesn’t matter,” I said, “No matter what you hear happening outside, no matter, you don’t open the door and you don’t scream—don’t make a noise at all. Alright? Even if you hear me calling you, you don’t do it.”
“Pfft,” Gemma crossed her arms and kicked her foot against the ground. The way her eyes seemed hollowed with bruising showed that the irritation would only grow without food. “Alright,” she finally sighed.
Andrew looked much the same as she did in that; he swallowed a dry swallow then stuffed his hand into his pocket and looked away when our eyes matched.
We gathered our light oil. Altogether, it seemed enough; rummaging through the room of the outbuilding we’d earlier taken refuge within, we managed three intact glass containers—the only ones found that wouldn’t leak with liquid; two were bottles and the third was the jar that’d once kept Andrew’s hand. With that work done, we sat with three Molotov cocktails within our huddled circle of the storage room.
“Is it enough?” asked Gemma.
“We’ll see,” I began rolling a cigarette to ignore the hunger and the thirst.
Andrew took to the corner and glanced over his shoulder only a moment before a steady liquid stream could be heard and when he rotated from the wall once the noise was finished and he held a canteen up to his nose, sniffed it and quivered and shook his head.
As the sun pushed on, I scanned the perimeter outside, and they followed. Far south I spied a mass of shadow inching across the horizon and Gemma commented, “What’s that?”
I pushed the binoculars to her and let her gaze through them.
“A fiend—that’s what we called it back in the day anyway. A mutant.”
She held the binoculars up and frowned. “A mutant? So, it was once human?”
“A fiend was once many humans.” I pointed out to the horizon though she couldn’t see me doing so and continued, “If you look at the edges of its shape, you’ll see it’s got limbs galore on it. Sticking up like hairs is what it’ll look like at this distance. Those are arms and legs. It’s got faces too. Many faces.” I shuddered.
“I can barely see any details,” she passed the binoculars to Andrew, and he looked through them, “What’s it do?”
“What?” I asked.
“What’s it do if it catches a person?”
“It pulls people into it. Makes you apart of its mass. Nasty fuckers.”
Andrew removed the lenses from his eyes and held them to his chest and asked, “It won’t mess up your trap, will it?”
“We’ll keep an eye on it,” I said, “You don’t want to mess with a fiend unless you have to.”
First/Previous
Archive

A staticky 90s looking video camera tape is put in and begins playing on a small TV, you see a pair of tan hands and hear a young 20 something year old man and a home made video documentary begins
After the appearance of this large monolithic structure that appeared in the middle of America causing a large military state to form on the borders around the large 'Mall'. On the first day and every 30 days since a message plays" {This is the Mall of the Multiverse! Made for all mages and magic users alike to come shop and par take in the vast libraries and research facilities... And then it glitches showing a man in a purple cloak, that was the belief of the 8 fools who wasted their magic abilities on a waste of philanthropic trash like this, I Alphonse the Manipulation Mage Extraordinar have turned this into the magic engine it was always made to be, now come on in the lower levels are safe buy away and have a good time and if you want.... Find and kill me and this dangerous monster factory will cease to be and the beasts it releases will cause you no more casualties.} I'm taking video of this because I believe we need to document and understand what's going on here and not let the government lock it up and keep us out, if we all work together and make it high enough we'll find Alphonse and we can take this Mall down.
All that to say this is a monster of the week game that will follow a party of explorers who wish to take out the Mad Manipulator. As the Mall was connected to a fantasy realm before ending up in the moral modern day there are many fantasy races around as well so those are on the table, if you want any abilities based on a fantasy monster race, you will have to take the Monsteras Sheet.
The vibes and aesthetics are that of the late 90s and early 2000s as the Mall appeared in the early 90s and slowed the world's progress as many things we're destroyed and had to be rebuilt. The Mall has a very normal with a fantasy lean look on the first 5 floors but after that it begins devolving into a dungeon looking space and beyond that it gets very liminal and BackRooms-esce with one one or two highly dangerous enemies but a large space to hide and seek through.
I'm looking for a party of 4 to play biweekly at the time and day listed in the title. If you're interested just message me on here with a character concept and a a short bio about yourself and your experience with MotW.
The session 0 will be on the 16th of May at the same time as the games scheduled.

26 y/o Persian-American male - I sometimes feel like my brain is a lvl. 45 Pokémon in my party (of other organs? IDK), and because I don't have any gym badges under my belt, I wake up each day with ~75-80% chance of it totally steering me off course with regards to productivity in any/all facets of my life; further, I find that it has oftentimes made a decision for me prior to any kind of a chance I should/would have had otherwise at deductively reasoning a particular, making it that much more difficult to break my current insomnial and burning out I've been experiencing this past year. For example: my mom telling me we have to go somewhere I don't want to in the morning, my agreeing despite not wanting to, then my brain 5Head'ing the situation in the background like an antivirus program and 'resolving' this by having me stay up all night to where there's no way I can go after all. Slightly more context that I've been told I'm super smart, blah blah blah, but have genuinely been able to achieve things I seriously haven't heard of a single other person accomplishing especially with regards to my profession, attract highly successful and famous individuals into my life on both friendly and romantic levels just off my personality alone, crazy, I know. What's crazier is how empty I feel on the inside in spite of everything I've accomplished with regards to, well, again, all facets of my life.
Sigh
(P.S. To my 🧠: Thank you, sincerely, for giving me the courage/chutzpah to finally deliberately declassify, denote, and deliver this demeanor over the internet, however limited by my diagnosed ADHD/Borderline/Traumatic upbringing)

• One Of Us

I’m 25F. I was in a relationship with someone for over 10 years. Our families didn’t like each other and we grew up to develop different preferences and personalities and split up. If I think about it, he is entirely different from what I would like in a person now and I know for sure I don’t want to go back to him. But still there’s something that makes me get panic attacks and my heart heavy if I think about him. We stopped talking a little more than a year ago (we were talking for quite some time ~1yr after the break up because we were so used to sharing everything but I started going on dates and we decided it would be better to stop talking). I am dating a guy right now who seems to be the absolute man of my dreams. I feel lucky to have him and see a future with him. But I feel like I’m not being able to love him fully. I feel like that full-hearted logic-less ride or die love is missing. And idk how to fix it. Some reasons I have thought of are that maybe my last relationship just had the highs of first/teenage love or the adrenaline of being rebellious going against family. Maybe it is unfair to compare. Maybe this is what my adult loving capacity is, but how do I confirm it? Also, I feel like I was more emotionally mature and dedicated towards the relationship back then. It might be because it was my first relationship. I am the first relationship for my current bf(28M) and he deserves the world and I feel guilty for not being able to give it to him. I just feel confused about the concept of love now—idk what it is. I have always had this thing in mind that if it’s true love, you can’t really give reason to someone if they ask you why do you love that person. It’ll be like I just love them idk. But if I ask that question to myself for my bf, I know what all characteristics, personality traits, or things I like in him. Which makes me wonder if I would still love him if ALL those traits were to vanish one day. Idk. Is that how love is supposed to be? Help T-T

Hi everyone,
I'm hoping to get some advice or insights from those who have experience or knowledge about orthognathic surgery, specifically for addressing UARS sleep apnea and facial asymmetry.
A few years back, I was diagnosed with moderate UARS from a sleep study and recommended a tonsillectomy. However, I like to to address the root cause issues and feel that that alone wouldn't solve the issue.
Recently, I began researching orthognathic surgery for cosmetic reasons and facial asymmetry. I realized it could potentially cure my sleep apnea as well. I was fortunate enough to get a referral for the surgery from my ENT, which is really awesome. And the surgeon officially is pretty good.
Aesthetically, my jaw isn't severely recessed, but my side profile appears slightly off and asymmetrical. One side is more forward and higher, affecting the symmetry of my nose, eyes, and eyebrows.
My main question is: will MMA surgery to address UARS sleep apnea also correct these aesthetic asymmetries? Will the surgeon prioritize the sleep apnea over the cosmetic aspects since that's the primary reason for the surgery? Deep down I feel like I want to more for cosmetic reasons, and if it won't help with that the surgery might be a little too intense for me just for sleep apnea.
One last thing, my nose and mouth are like tilted towards the side that the maxilla goes inwards, sort of following the maxillas shape, so do you think possibly the surgery can straighten out my nose and mouth also?
Any thoughts, information, or personal experiences you can share would be greatly appreciated.
Thank you!

Yes, I am aware this may not be worth anyones time...bear with me. Especially you you BIG Texas GUY! Actin all big. Acting all smug! Hiding in the Alamo like most Texans do... living it up with your 5lb bag of tofu jerky, like the soy boy really are... deep inside. Yea, you probably bought that shit with the money you claim to not spend on Jack Daniels HONEY!
I KNOW BETTER! I know what you're really up to with that last 5$
Better known by you as 4.60 euro. Since your so in love with acting like a French PRINCE!
DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT YOU PUT ME THROUGH!
Go ahead, convert that back to 5 USD like a real BIG GUY! AND WHAT DO YOU GET!
YOU GET NOTHIN!
Or atleast thats what you, and the so called customer service that my fiance never contacted thinks! Yea. I bet your like maybe if you did, but ive had enough of what if... You caffine covered RAT! If thats what you even claim to be! Who knows!
Its been nearly two years, schlatt. (Thats right amongst all of the capitalization I [capitalized!] Chose to lower case your name and will from here on out!) Anytime I listen to you. WHICH I USUALLY DONT MIND DOING! However, thats starting to change! Ya wana know why?
Its not because all of the god damn dogs you've made too scared to serve MY country. I could make LIST schlatt. A list... numbering the things you find more important than me!
Its because almost two entire years have passed... and my fiance is still waiting for her sampler that she NEVER RECIEVED!
You know what i do most often schlatt.(god why can't I make your name smaller)

 I WORK SCHLATT 

With my regretful hands! I wake up, shower, and in that shower it's not so bad to hear you just act like you don't give a shit. But on the other side of that wall when I walk out is my fiance.
Do you know that all that good ass work juice you pump my heart leaks out all over my shitty wood floor right when she point it out.
She says,"Is that schlatt, I can't believe he did that to me!?" Anytime she hears your voice. She use to like you shlatt... Shes hot as shit covered in tattoos, beautiful smile... and you took her last 5 USD, the type of currency that we use here in America, and she invested in you schlatt. She wanted those samplers.
I hear about this roughly every other day since. She won't let it go. Why would you take her money. Why make her do this instead of talking to support? Why won't you, without being aware, reach out to ME personally and fix my little shower problem.
Do you know what it's like to come home after standing on a ladder all day just to have someone you consider to be a hero, a friend, a brother just repeatedly stomp on your loved ones bank account!? Not even sprinkle any dust in there?
I hate to say it but if you don't do something soon I may loose it all. We were willing, where were you when she needed you schlatt. Why do I have to hear this every time I try to listen to you. I'm trying to help you! I'm not even asking for a refund, I just need your advice... she doesn't see you the way she did schlatt... and I'm afraid she will never recover.
I will not be gratified by your response. I can continue to imagine you as some sort of dog stomping ghost if i need to. You have a responsiblity here. She WAS your fan. Can you help a helpess homie out with a solution here or what.
BECAUSE IF YOU CAN NOT I'M GOING TO HAVE TO SEE IF TUCKER OR TED HAVE ANY DUST FOR SALE!
IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT US TO DRINK. I see no other option. Bring her back, don't put Teds fucking dust in my mouth BRO! Just do something. Please! Before it's all over. I have four step children that are going to be drinking the dust off of these guys dude. Its just not right what you have done to me. Sometimes you can try your best and all you have is smog flavored dust. However, Tucker's has a rather robust high note. So idk may just have to drink his dust i guess... until i jump off a bridge into normal water. With no tits... no juice... no hope.
No hope guys! No hope and no dust!
I don't want to hear it again!

We're married for 2 years now, together for 6. We've known each other for 10 years. Maybe it's because we're together all the time since dating, but I feel like over the last few years my husband has gotten so bad about cutting me off, talking over me, not letting me speak or flat out ignoring/not hearing me. It's many times, daily, that I feel dejected and remember to just shut up, because if i do speak ill get my feelings hurt because I'm just talking into a void. He has serious ADHD, he's known this for years. But before we were together as a couple, he made me feel so heard. More so than most people in my life. And now, I'm lucky if I can get complete sentences out. Forget about anything longer than a sentence. It's been a topic we've discussed so many times. I just need him to hang on and let me speak. But sometimes he cuts me off and even says "just wait/just listen to me for a minute" like dude you get the floor 99% of the time. Anyways, I guess I want to know how some of you might react or feel? I want to scream. Or at least sit down and say that I feel so completely devalued and isolated by this behavior. But he has ADHD and can't help it, that's what he always comes to. His suggestions are to keep repeating myself, talk over him, and continue talking when he interrupts. Though usually those options don't work, he still doesn't /hea me and I honestly don't want to interact like that. I'm tired of fighting for space in our conversations

The thunder shook the house as the rain pelted the windows. Mike awoke to the wind howling wondering how much longer the storm would last. He had come out to the cabin, only a couple hours from the city expecting to spend a quiet weekend away from the city life. Unknowing to him that a storm was on the way. He rolled over and looked at the clock, the green display reads midnight. He closed his eyes and tried to fall back asleep when suddenly he heard a pounding on the door. He sat up and heard it again. “Who could be at my door and in this storm”, he thought. He got up and slowly approach the door hearing the pounding again. Opening the door a crack he sees a small figure standing a few feet away. Nothing but darkness in the background as the lightning flashes illuminated the figure. “Hello? Can I help you?” He asks. “Hi, I’m sorry to bother you but my car broke down. I tried to call a tow truck but I have no service.” the woman says. He stepped back and opened the door. “Please, come in.” As she walks through the door, he notices her clothes are soaked from the rain. “How far did you walk?” He asks. “I’m not sure, a couple miles it felt like”, she replies sounding exhausted. He leaves for a few moments and returns handing you a towel. “Can I get you a drink?”, “Please” she says, as he walks into the kitchen to fetch a glass of water. He returns, handing her the glass. “Thank you, my name is Liz by the way.” “Nice to meet you Liz, my name is Mike. You are welcome to use my phone if you would like.” She smiles, as she walks over to the table and picks up the phone. Mike sits down on the couch turning on the tv. A few moments later Liz returns, “Ugh”. “Bad news?” He asks. “They said no one will come out in this storm till it passes. What am I going to do?”. Just then a deafening rumble of thunder shook the house as the rain started coming down harder. “I don’t think this storm is letting up any time soon, you are more than welcome to wait it out till morning and try calling them back.” Mike offered. “Really? I don’t want to be a bother.” “No, I insist, it’s no bother at all”. Liz smiled, “Thank you, really.”
Shivering, Liz sets her glass down on the table. “I hate to ask, but would you mind if I use the bathroom. Maybe get a hot shower, I am freezing and my clothes are soaked.” “Not at all.” Mike says, standing up. He points down the hallway, “The bathrooms on the left, if you would like I can toss your clothes in the dryer for you too.” Liz smiles. “Thank you so much! I’ll leave them outside the door.” Liz turns and walks down the hallway, finding the bathroom and walking inside. Standing at the sink she takes a deep breath. Seeing herself in the mirror thinking “I look a wreck”. At 5’ 3”, she was considered average. Shoulder length brown hair and eyes that changed colors based on her mood, or so it seemed. With her athletic build and toned legs, she still felt her body ache from the miles she just walked. Slowly she stripped off her wet clothes, leaving them in a pile just outside the bathroom door. Sliding open the glass door to the shower she stepped inside, turning the shower on as she felt the hot water rain down over her body. Sitting on the couch Mike hears the shower turn on. Getting up he walks down the hallway finding the wet pile of clothes at the bathroom door. As he approaches, he notices the door open a couple inches. The light from inside escaping through the crack. He leans down to pick up the clothes and pauses. The bathroom is filled with steam from the hot water. The faint outline of a woman’s body behind the fogged-up glass door. He freezes. Quietly Liz begins to hum, eyes closed as she washes her hair under the hot water. Her hands begin moving across her body as she washes the sweat and dirt off her. Mike kneels frozen just on the other side of the door, knowing he shouldn’t be looking but his legs unwilling to move. In the shower, Liz’s hands drift along her skin. Caressing her breasts for a moment as she smiles to herself, she’s always been happy with how full they were. Perky and just large enough to fill a grown man’s hand. Her hands explore lower, as she washes her stomach and then her legs. She sighs, starting to feel better now that she is warm and clean. As she turns the water off, Mike snaps out of his frozen state. Gathering up the clothes and rushing down the hall to put them in the dryer. Quickly returning to the kitchen as he retrieves a beer from the fridge and sits back down on the couch flipping through the stations. Stepping out of the shower Liz dries off finding a robe hanging on the back of the bathroom door, she drapes it around her body.
“Thank you so much, I feel much better”, she says, as she walks into the living room. Mike jumps slightly, startled by her voice then smiles. “You’re welcome, your clothes are in the dryer,” as he notices the robe she had on. Liz walks over and sits down on the couch, slowly crossing one leg over the other. “This robe will do for now,” she says with a smile. Mike gets up and walks into the kitchen, “Would you like a drink?”. “Sure” Liz says, “Whatever you are drinking.” As Mike returns, he can’t help but notice Liz’s toned legs, the robe resting mid-thigh. He hands Liz a beer as she smiles and lets out a small laugh. “What is so funny?”, he asks. She looks down at him while raising an eyebrow. “Is something the matter?” He scrunches his eyebrows wondering what she meant, as he looked down. He gasps, realizing a small bulge had formed in his pants, a likely result of the unexpected show he witnessed not long ago. He turned away quickly, “I’m sorry” he says. She laughed, “its ok, I expected it.” Mike turns his head back towards her, “You expected it?” “Yes, I mean, after watching me shower I would be upset if you didn’t have one. Mikes eyes grow big, shocked and embarrassed that she knew he was watching her. “I, didn’t mean to, the door was just cracked open and I was getting your clothes…” he stumbles trying to explain himself. She smiles as she stands up, “Did you like what you saw?” He takes a big gulp as he nods. She slowly undoes the tie holding the robe together, letting the robe fall off her body and onto the floor. “Is this what you wanted to see?” His heart begins beating faster, her naked body on full display in front of him. She slowly reaches out as she takes his hand in hers, bringing it up to her chest as it cups her breast. His breathing increases as he feels her nipple harden against the palm of his hand as he instinctively begins to squeeze her breast. She lets out a quiet moan as she smiled at him. Reaching forward she rests her hand on the now large bulge in his pants. He jumps slightly as he feels the pressure of her hand against it. “Oh my, we seem to have a problem here.” She says, as she slowly begins to unbutton his pants, pulling the zipper down ever so slowly. He sighs as he feels the cool air rush into his pants as she unzips them. Her hand reaching inside as she releases his manhood. A smile forms on her face as it enters her view. Fully erect as his blood pumps through it. She slowly wraps her fingers around it stroking its full length as she devilishly licks her lips. Mike slowly closes his eyes as he feels her fingers around him, letting out a slight moan. “Are you enjoying that?” she asks, as she continues to stroke his shaft. “Yes” he says, his breathing increasing. Biting her lip, she steps back, leading him to the couch and directing him to sit down. As he sits down, she kneels in front of him. His cock aiming towards the ceiling in front of her as she wraps her fingers around it again. She strokes it a few times before bringing her lips close. Slowly she runs the tip of her tongue from the base of the shaft up to the head feeling it pulse against her tongue. He moans at the feeling of her tongue, as she slowly wraps her lips around the head, sucking gently. “Ugh, yes” he moans, looking down at her. Removing her hand from his shaft she engulfs his entire cock as he feels it enter her throat for the first time. She bobs her head up and down faster as she hears the moans escape his lips. Pausing for a moment, his cock between her lips, she twirls her tongue around the head feeling his hips lifting up slightly under neither her. She moans to herself sending vibrations down his shaft. Slowly he moves a hand to the back of her head, resting it with his fingers intertwined in her hair. She raises her head sucking on the tip for a moment, before removing it from her mouth. Replacing her mouth with her hand again as she strokes his now wet cock. Smiling up at him as she watches some precum run down his shaft she sticks her tongue out to catch it. Moaning again, he ushers her head back down, as she opens her mouth taking his cock between her lips. Bobbing her head faster now, her tongue swirling around his swollen head each time her head comes up. He grips her hair in his fist, the pressure inside him building. She feels his cock pulsing against her tongue and lips as she takes his shaft deeper, wanting to taste his juice. He lets out a groan at the same time she feels him erupt. She lowers her head his cock deep in her throat as she feels the first stream of thick cum fill her stomach. She continues bobbing her head tightening her lips around his cock as she milks him dry, hungerly swallowing each stream he pumps into her awaiting throat. His head falls back against the couch with a loud sigh, his hand collapsing along the side of him. She releases his semi hard cock. Slowly licking around the head making sure not to miss a drop before looking up and smiling at him while licking her lips. Exhausted he drifts off to sleep.

Just as the title suggests.
It’s a UMS map with the shape of Europe’s geography. Looking to teach or train new players on the map. We do have 8-14 active players who play the map consistently 4-5 or more days a week. That said, I’m looking to expand the player base.
I feel like there have been players who have tried to join or learn in the past and get steamrolled by more experienced players. It becomes pretty demoralizing or seen as a stupid map design if you don’t ever get the chance to even see the potential of the map because you die within the first 5-10 minutes to people who know what is strong, what isn’t, and where to expand to and where not to.
This map has been adjusted and balanced for over 15 years.
For additional information about the map or starting tips/tricks refer to this information below:
Diplo Forum Boards
YouTube Search:
“Outlawpoet Diplo Infinity” – This is where you can learn the most on YouTube. Very good player, if not the best. Has detail oriented tutorials for each country and where to expand the first few turns. Below is his YouTube Channel, but his latest uploads recently aren’t diplo related, so just better off searching the keywords above.
OutLawPoet's YouTube Channel
Crudieur[InFi]'s YouTube Channel
Clan InFi's YouTube Channel
BONUS: Here’s a funny video of what someone learned playing Diplo:
What Crudieur[InFi] learned after playing Diplo for a couple years!!
Anyone willing or interested in learning or has questions please respond below or Add FeralOrganism on StarCraft:Remastered OR add Revenant#11362
Thanks!

I thought my mil and I were close up til now.
She called me on Wed to ask if my 7 year old was going to get his baby teeth pulled out. (She knew since monday)
So she calls and says "Is what's his name gonna get his teeth taken out today?"
I go-- "What's his name" ??? You mean ___??" Yes my son ___ is going to get his teeth taken out today."
She starts yapping about some random shit and in a blur I say "mom can I call you back I'm in the middle of something." I just hung up and proceeded to tell my husband that her referring to our 7 year old as "what's his name" really threw me off and upset me.
Husband said he'll talk to her but I grew impatient and decided I would call her to which he said "ok then go ahead"
So I called back and before telling her how I felt I started it with good intentions and without yelling or being upset I told her
"Mom, I respect you as my husband's mother and as my mother in law, but I do not like it when you refer to my son as "what's his name"
She then starts getting defensive saying she's an old woman and she forgets names.
I told her why would she use that as an excuse when she never forgets my husband's children's names from a previous relationship or her favorite grandchilds name (her favorite grandchild is my daughter) when my mil calls me to only pick up my daughter she always refers to my daughter as "her princess, her girl, her sweetheart"
I am not stupid and I see it for what it is. I told her "do not refer to my son as what's his name. If you think you're going to forget his name then please do not refer to him at all or at least refer to him as what he is - My Son, My boy." She didn't like this at all. Things started to get blown up because she is a silly old woman who doesn't like to be told and one thing led to another. She started crying belligerently. She hung the phone on me and immediately called my husband who was now heading to work. He called me after yelling at me telling me why the fuck am I making his mom cry.
Mind you--- I never once raised my voice at her. All I did was set a boundary. Do not refer to my son in a manner that I don't appreciate. Simple. Husband says he sees what I mean but she's old. I said that's a bullshit excuse. I feel bad and I haven't apologized or nothing because I am certain I didn't do anything wrong here.
It's Friday evening now and she still has not contacted me or my husband. (Prior she used to call everyday several times a day.) I ain't complaining tho. I just feel like she's taking it too fucking far cause when she's mad at me she takes it out on everyone in my household including my kids. But fuck it.
So AITA???