Today I'm writing about the Aprile Family "Plot".
I'll describe how the Aprile family, (Namely Richie, partly Janice, Jackie Jr, and finally Ralph) all laid seeds to bring down Tony.
I've stated before on previous write-ups, but I'll state once more that Jackie Sr was the beloved leader of the Sopranos crew. This is highlighted in season 3, specifically the episode to "To Save us All from From Satan's Power" when in Tony's flashbacks we see a Jackie Sr that has his doors opened for him by Silvio and we see other crew members let out their chairs for him.
He was a man HONORED by his crew. He had support from NJ/NY through HONORABLE means. This is NOT the case with Tony. Tony built up his power through FEAMURDER first. We see Tony, though I believe it isn't 100% authentic, completely honors and overall respects Jackie Sr until his death. It's then Tony has to show his true character and sought the top spot.
Fast forwarding, as Richie is released, we see IMMEDIATELY he doesn't respect Tony's authority. This is highlighted in Season 2 first during Tom/Barbara elder's funeral when Tony sees Livia/Janice/Richie all together for the first time. Tony while getting a half-hearted apology from Richie tells him to BACK OFF AND RESPECT THE TITLE.
On another note, ALL of tony's enemies that he PHYSICALLY has to subdue call him "Anthony." These are all the people who saw him from his early years. This is why they have it out for him the most. They all KNOW he isn't fit to be "king". Yet his selfish nature can have it no other way. From Junior to Richie, Ralph, Feech, Blundetto (Out of jealousy), Hesh, Phil, etc each of his direct/in-direct enemies call him by his government name.
They do this is a way to MOCK him and usually due to their standing with him, (meaning he NEEDS them for some particular reason), Tony allows it. It's a very subtle clue into who has it out for Tony during the entire series.
Richie was used as a pawn for Janice, who mimics Livia's use of Corrado in the same way to bring down Tony. Richie, originally does not know/knew that Janice was using him as an overall pawn, but he himself, due to Tony not seeing him as equal and their issues of currency/the garbage business led to him being in direct conflict with Tony.
Richie, with his own personal baggage and theories on his sexuality, never has the respect to fully follow through on attacking Tony directly, Thus, he seeks out Junior to HELP aide him in his quest to retake the family/crew back from the Sopranos. Richie didn't mind Junior being in charge because him being out of the can meant all he had to do was wait and Junior's age would likely mean that eventually Richie would be in charge.
Also, Richie by episode 12 Knight in White Satin had already begun the plot to keep the Aprile family in charge by grooming Jackie Jr who then was still a student at Rutgers. We also see the closeness (though they never talk on screen) between Rosalie/Richie. She is front and center almost like the queen as Janice/Richie have their engagement ceremony.
As previously stated, I believe Janice was the overall chess player in that she was using Richie and he didn't realize it, but on the surface, Richie was marching headfirst into challenging Tony for the top spot by merging the families together and moving into a identical huge mansion with everyone noticing.
Once Richie goes to Junior to finally push through the need to usurp Tony, Junior agrees but understanding that he CAN"T be allowed to be noticed by Tony, he warns Richie to not fully commit to Albert. Junior is much sharper than Richie/Tony as far as being a consigliere (his true natural position), so he basically is the hidden middleman and puppet master for Richie. He deep down understands how the crew thinks/acts now. (End of season 2).
He knows that Richie hasn't been around long enough to garner the respect NOR FEAR needed to carry out what he wants against Tony. Junior understands that Tony will basically go to war and fight to the death (right or wrong) to keep his position. (Which basically what happens in season 6 more or less). Therefore, he plays possum and sends Richie out to do the deed and never attach his name to this second hit against Tony.
When Richie fails to pursue Albert, we see off screen that Jackie JRichie TOGETHER go to Junior to exclaim the bad news. As Junior yells ( I KNEW IT I FUCKING KNEW) he is verbally yelling out his subconscious that Richie is too week as he thought to carry out the plan against Tony.
Richie, who off camera with Jackie Jr likely already talked about strategy, THEN states to Junior that if YOU (JR) take out Tony, everybody will fall in line.
Richie in his street way, is now telling Corrado that hey, if YOU do it, everything will still work out because I don't have the muscle to do so. (Also notice that when Richie yells how he has "guys" in federal lock up who would love nothing better than to take out Barese; Junior gives him a perplexed kinda faint look like YEAH RIGHT. You can't even handle this yourself on the streets).
Junior then, realizing that Tony can NEVER find out he'd come after him twice, exclaims to Bobby his internal thoughts and says we must cut bait with Richie and let Tony know so he doesn't kills us for plotting to kill him twice. He convinces Tony that he wasn't apart of it and throws shade at Janice by telling Tony "Wonder where she is at in all this. My little Niece." Tony knows Janice's true character.
Janice provoke and kills Richie. Likely to save herself. Tony understands that now, by also getting rid of the body FOR Janice, that he OWNS her now as well. Not only did he have the proof he need that she plotted, but she also has a rivals blood on her hands AND only Tony can help her get rid of it. This was a deep and complex plot relationship most don't speak about between Tony/Janice.
In season 3, we see a now Christian-hypocritical Janice that literally is MUCH NICER to Tony than in season 2 in her initial arrival where she had this air of superiority due to age and life experience. Richie's plot to take down Tony by his OWN means dies with him at the hands of another Soprano.
PARTII of the plot now begins with Ralph/Jackie Jr.
As stated, it wasn't by accident that in season 3, Rosalie IMMEDIATELY sought out Ralphie as a spouse. This is the same method that Janice used in going after Richie except it's much more subtle. Rosalie never was away. She was the widow of the beloved boss. She was best friends (frenemies ) of Carmela the new Queen. Therefore, she didn't have to utilize the same approach as Janice. It had to be different. Not to mention, there is no way she didn't have silent ANIMOUSITY towards the Sopranos after Richie abruptly disappears. She knows how things roll. As Richie died, her standing also takes hit because the power is still not in HER family's corner still.
Thus, Jackie Jr now steps up. He started accompanying Richie in late season 2 on business disputes and Tony SHOULD have noticed him as a threat then that COULDN"T be changed. Christopher in episode Fortunate Son, is told by Tony to "keep Jackie out off it". Christopher states Jackie Jr is heir apparant prior to this.
Feech also spoke later about how power always gets passed to the son. Tony partially doesn't want Jackie Jr in involved because he understands that he becomes a rival who he'd have to deal with. It's the same in the Lion kingdom ironically.
Jackie, despite his actions was nothing more than a 21st century Tony without his dad there to carry him. Same academic profile, same Jock profile, and only difference is Jackie is being forced in the wrong direction partially due to Tony and his associates. The main one in season 3, being Ralphie who emerges more openly.
Namely, in Employee of the Month episode 4, when at at Sack's welcoming party, we see outside that Sack is secretly conversing with Ralph and Tony's worried glances notice this. The scene is very subtle in that the viewer SHOULD understand that Ralph/Sack are high level business men who have the propensity to drive home major dollars through construction. We never see Tony utilize anything but prior connects TAKEN from Junior when it comes to his business dealings. The HUD scam was grafted by Brian WITH Ralph in attendance. Tony never makes any spectacular business moves or scams that make you go wow.
The viewer finds out season 5 that the guy can't even write and is likely dyslectic. This makes total sense in why leading up, all his rivals usually don't respect him and only his closest friends do out of fear.
Tony is NOT a great or savvy businessman .He is a charming/brutal sociopath that charms up until a degree and then uses violence to take what he wants. Ralph is NOT that. He has business savvy. He is a PSYCHOPATH nevertheless.
Ralph is attempting through Johnny Sack, to plot his own rise to power in the NJ faction. This plot thickens in season 3, when Ralph, after realizing that Jackie Jr is making his move to become a member of the family. Several scenes, Ralph is bringing Jackie Jr deeper into the world with the gun, the x dealer suggestion, and taking him on missions to extort.
Ralph is poisoning Jackie with the trappings of the life. He, I believe is doing so to strengthen him to get the courage to challenge Tony and make a move while he can stay in the background and reap the fallout.
Tony/Ralph/Jackie Jr all kind of have parallels with the Lion King. Tony & Ralph playing the mufasa/scar roles while Jackie Jr is that of Simba. In a criminal way.

A couple of years ago I tried writing my own version of Stones Abbigale. I never got past the first couple scenes, but I'm considering returning to it. I wanted to basically rewrite and change up a lot of things, mainly focusing on Abbi and Davis and changing some elements. Let me know what you think!

1
It's almost four in the morning and Seth is threatening suicide again. Good. Fuck him. I hope he does it. I don't text him that because I read about this girl who told her boyfriend to kill himself. The irony was that when he actually did it she got charged with second degree murder. My life is fucked as it is I don't need to make it worse. I’m shivering under my comforter because we’re halfway through November. I think about the turkey that won't get made this year and the family I won't see. I think that's swell. Seth is still texting.
Its like u dont even care after everything that happened and after everything we did together i saved ur life and i stayed with u when u cried and i hugged u and i did everything for u but that wasn't enough was it? i try so hard and all u ever are is a bitch to me that's not fair u want me to die and u hate me and u dont even care and im sick of it abbi why is is so hard for u to care about me?
I don't respond. I don't like how I feel about this. This should be easy. He won't actually do it. He won't. He’s too self involved to kill himself. I put my phone face down on my bed. The sheets shake around it as he sends message after message. I was sleeping on a ticking bomb so I got off of it. My feet stick to the floor, I struggle to step. I might as well have been standing barefoot on ice. I trudge to my window so I can see my street at night.
Winter is really coming. You can't hear as many birds as you used to. They've all gone. They've all flown away. I can see three streetlights from where I’m standing. If you look from right to left, you can see the concrete fracture into the sand. I open my window and brace for the chill. I stick my head outside. The ocean is not far away. I hear it hitting the shore over and over. Waves of water splashing incessantly, almost beating out my text notifications.
The street lights flicker. I think of last summer. When Seth and I got really high after the news broke. I was making out with that bong. Emptying bowl after bowl, clanking the glass on the road to empty it out. Just thinking about it makes me feel the street pole against my back again. I was laughing and crying. Seth leaned in and hugged me. “I’m a sure thing,” he said. “I love you and I always will.”I caught my reflection in his sunglasses. I looked awful. I shiver at the memory.
My phone is still buzzing. I try to catch my breath. I shut my window and start to walk back to my bed. A room always looks different in the dark. Maybe you think you know where you are, but there is always something that can jump out at you on the floor. Like a ghostly paper bag or a vengeful shoe. Objects that seem to move on their own with the sole drive of tripping you.
I crawl back into bed. There's the phantom of Dad’s snoring . I know he's not sleeping in his room, he fell asleep on the couch after finishing his seventh fifth. Sometimes my brain fills in the gaps so I can hear it everywhere. Funnily, I haven't actually heard him snore since Mom left. That's the one thing I ever heard them fight about. Before she turned out to be a whore, I guess.
BZZT.BZZT.BZZT.
I can't bring myself to read any of his messages. They're coming so fast all the paragraphs are lost to motion blur. Seth’s arms wrap around me and I think about the beating of his heart and the warmth of his lips against my skin. I open up the texts, ready to respond.
I love you
I text this over and over until I fall asleep.
Davis was the only senior on the bus. Somehow, everyone else had a car or a ride. It’s all right, though. James would probably give him one if he had a car, but he skated to school every morning. That's why he barely ever rode the bus with him. The bus thumped along the under paved roads. Davis forgot his earbuds at home, so the only music that accompanied him was his racing thoughts. Two sophomore girls popped their heads over.
“Ohmigod, Davis!” One of them shrieked.
“As I live and breathe,” he smiled. “Nice,” she said. “I’m so excited to see your finished painting.”
Davis took the lower level art class for a requirement. Like most things, he's not taking it very seriously. For their pop art unit, he's painting a portrait of the art teacher with a warthog face. It's one of his funny disruptions. He knows Mrs. Stanley is going to have a real field day with it, but it doesn't matter. Artistic liberties, he’d profess.
“She's such a bitch, isn't she?” The sophomore girl turns to her compatriot, who only nods in response.
“She's just jealous,” Davis says. “It must be depressing to teach art and see the youth soar above her.”
“For sure,” the girl doesn't get it. Class clown is a semi-heavy burden. Davis doesn't really feel like talking to these girls, but his position demands it. Comedy informs everything about him. To the giant thrift store jeans, to the loud Hawaiian shirt. He and James are the ultimate combination, at least he likes to think so. Quiet brooding begs for bright distraction.
The girl is still trying to talk to him and Davis is saying his preprogrammed lines. The bus stops in front of James’s street. Surprisingly, James is standing there.
“Like I’m this close to just filling my hydroflask with vodka, yaknow?” says the chick. Maybe she's just trying to get a rise out of him.
“Better be prepared to give me more than a sip,” Davis is watching James grumble towards the bus.
The sun is beating down on the forming ice puddles. James stomps through them with small shattering steps.
James turns up the bus aisle and plops in the seat next to Davis. Davis’s smile is genuine now, but he fights it from getting too wide.
“Crash your vehicle?” Davis asks.
“Something like it,” there's something off with him. Davis doesn't want to push it.
“Well damn, hope insurance covers it,” Davis wants James to break and laugh. Is it just another mood or did something actually happen this time?
“It won't, I got bad credit,” James grins and it's like heaven. “What's the move for you today?”
“Surviving art and physics for me,” says Davis. “Those bastards love to keep me down.”
“Who doesn't,” James eyes the girls who have since returned to whatever they were doing before. It's the judgement stare, as Davis calls it. James likes to observe his peers like a zoo-goer. Breaking them down to taxonomic types. Davis likes to think that James doesn't do this to him, but he knows he probably does.
“It sucks you decided to be bad at school and take baby art,” James is still dissecting the sophomore girls down to their tropes. “We could have done Art II together.”
“I wouldn't want to get between you and Alex. I know how you love it when people piss in jars next to you.”
“That's disgusting,” James breaks his glare at the girls.
“It's performance art, it's beautiful,” Davis gets up out of his seat to yell. “Everyone witness the wonderful work of Alex Madov! Disengage yourself from the shackles of capitalism by shouting with me: Poopy, pee pee, poop!”
Davis gets a few chuckles from the other kids on the bus.
“Sit down, fatso,” mumbles the bus driver.
“I will not be silenced! I’m a messenger of the good word, sir!”
"More of this shit and I’m skipping your stop!” “Fine, but I will make Alex remember on the day of judgement,” Davis sits back down. James is full belly laughing.
“You're so retarded,” James wheezes. Davis can't even come back with a response. He's high off of it.
The bus pulls into the school lot with a short stop. The mobs get up and begin to race out. Davis follows James down the line.
“You know Abbi?” James asks. Davis feels a little pit form in his stomach, but he doesn't change his expression.
“Vaguely, what about her?”
“She's in my art class,” James begins. “And I think … well you know, I’m going to talk to her.” He walks down the steps and out the door.
“Doesn't she have a boyfr-” before Davis can descend the driver's arm blocks him.
“I’ve had enough of your shit, kid,” he says. “If you keep being obnoxious, I’m gonna find a way to make you pay for it.”
James looks back, but he can't stay. Davis knows that he's gotta get to class. James does a little wave goodbye and Davis salutes him. “Are you even listening to me?” the bus driver seethes.
“Yes, sir. Divine retribution, got it.” Davis ducks underneath his arm and exits the bus. James has already disappeared into the crowd.
I pass the bong to Ashley. She starts another bowl. She’s the transport and I provide the material. The little things that keep our friendship afloat. I look at the clock in her car.
“It's 8:45,” I pick a piece of bagel out of my teeth.
“So that's it, we officially missed first period,” Ashley tops it off.
“They won't mark us, you know. It's a study.”
“Yeah, but when's the last time we signed in? I heard they're changing the policy again. Do you still have the lighter?”
I toss it to her. I don't get it. It's always her idea to pick me up so we can smoke before school, why now is she suddenly caring about attendance?
“We're pretty girls, we can get out of it. I’m next,” I tap on the clock. “Are you sure it's not fast?”
She shakes her head as she takes a snap. We're parked in the pond area a block or two from the school. It's our designated smoking spot. I like it, even at the end of fall it's pretty. I’m so engrossed that I don't realize her tip out the bowl and put it back in the cup holder.
“I don't know if it's wise to keep up the activity, we should probably get going soon,” she starts up her car again.
“Okay,” I say.
She reverses and swings out of the lot. We lean into the silence and it's super weird.
“Seth texted me last night,” I wait for her reaction.
“Oh,” she grimaces. “What did you say?”
“That I loved him.” Silence again. Ashley's trying to put together something well-meaning while understanding that I’ll probably ignore whatever she has to say.
“Abbi, I’m not trying to tell you how to run your life, but …” Her expression is now quizzical. She's said what she is about to say a number of different ways all ready. She thinks and thinks and decides to say nothing. Good call, I would have screamed at her. Not because what she thinks about my situation isn't true, I’m just in a ‘screaming at people mood’ because of it.
“I’m going to dye my hair again,” she changes the subject to avoid conflict. Classic Ash.
“Oh yeah? What color this time?”
“I don't know,” she checks her reflection in the rear view. “The red has faded out, maybe blue or pink this time.”
“You should go with a softer pink,” I say. “Since you're a soft spring.”
“Yeah, maybe.” We enter the school lot. “Listen, do you want to get together when I do it? Maybe you can dye your hair too.”
“I don't know, I might be busy,” I say. “Seth might want to do something,” I pause for her to protest. “Okay,” she says. She parks and we get out.
I barrel into art class. I don't care if I reek, out of all the teachers I can tell Mrs. Stanley smokes the most. It would be hypocritical of her to care. It looks like I’m the first one. Weird. I check my phone. It's 8:45. Well, fuck. Looks like Ashley needs to fix her clock. Mrs. Stanley is at her desk. She looks at me knowingly.
“Eager to create today, Abbi?”
I just nod and sit at my desk. I’m really feeling it. I open up my precalc notebook and just start sketching. Birds, eyes, trees, whatever. Kids start coming in. Their chatter echoes around me, I try to focus on what I’m doing. Someone bumps into my table. I look up. It's this lanky blonde kid, I think his name is James. He presses his hands underneath the desk as he leans up to talk to me.
“Eww!” He shouts. Some kids turn and laugh. I don't. I just stare at him. James goes red and sits next to the kid who pissed in a jar. Once an adequate amount of students are in the room, Mrs. Stanley starts her lesson slideshow. On the screen is a dirty urinal.
“How many of you are familiar with this work by Marcel DuChamp?” she asks. At this point, Jason, the designated meathead jock, enters the room.
“Sorry I’m late, Mrs. S,” he booms. He looks at the slide. “We building bathrooms today?” Mrs. Stanley glares at him.
“Wouldn't you like that? Considering you spend all of your time in there.”
“Whatever,” Jason brushes his mullet behind his ears.
“No, not whatever. Would you like me to move you into the sophomore class with Davis? Believe it or not he's getting much better marks than you are getting in here.”
Jason rolls his eyes and takes his place in the chair next to me.
“Up to a little extra curricular activities before art, Abbi?” he motions a joint in his fingers. I scoff and go on my phone. There's another text from Seth.
sorry about last night
and
im reading it all right now that was fucked im sorry
I start to respond, but before I can Mrs. Stanley outstretches her hand.
“Give me your phone, Miss Hagerty. I’m sick of giving you warnings.” I don't have the energy to fight, I just give it to her. “You can pick it up at the end of the day.”
My jaw actually drops. Jason must have really set her off, she's not usually such a cunt to me.
“Anyways, found art. What is it? Well, found art is the use of everyday objects to convey an altered meaning. It can be something you find on the street or something that once held value to you. For example, My Bed by Tracey Elim.” She pulls up a picture of a messy bed that looks suspiciously like my own. “So for your final unit of the quarter, you will be making your own found art. I really want you to take this project a little more seriously than most of you have been taking this class. I’m giving you the privilege of picking your own partners, but I’d like to remind you to be thoughtful with your choice. This will be worth more for your grade.”
I look around. I don't have any friends here. I toy around with the idea of asking Jason for convenience and he looks like he's about to pull that move. Behind me there's that James guy. He’s sheepishly looking at me. He seems kind of nice. Okay. I don't feel like getting up so I just turn around in my chair.
“Hey James, wanna be partners?” He balks a bit and then smiles at me.
“Yeah, totally,” He's beaming and it's somewhat endearing. Alex and I switch seats and now I’m next to him.
“I’m gonna be real with you …” I begin. He stops and shifts a little. “I have no idea what we're supposed to be doing for this.” He regards me oddly. Like he's trying to piece me together. It doesn't bother me.
“She said we have to bring in an object that's special to us and present it artistically basically,” he rubs his chin. Damn, I must be baked to hell. I didn't hear her saying that at all. “So got any stuffed animals we can cut up and make Lovecraftian monstrosities out of?”
“I got a hamster cage, hold the hamster,” I say. It comes out kind of weird and I probably sound stupid, but he doesn't seem to care. “Let's make a fucking zoo.”
“Perfect!” He’s kind of cute actually. In a way. Something about this feels fun. I realize the bell will ring soon.
“So um,” I rip out a page of my precalc notebook, still fresh with my drawings. I scrawl out my number and push it to him. “Call me so we can figure out the project some more.” I pack up all my stuff and start to head out. I can feel him watching me and it's not that bad.
“I sure will,” he says. Everything feels really groovy. There's a lightness now. I’m halfway out the door when I remember my phone. I can't believe that I just forgot about Seth. I think about begging for my phone, but I feel too above that. Still, something shakes the good feeling as the bell rings.

Salones Are the perfect organisms standing a solid Three feet bigger than their next next comparable Species. With razor-sharp claws that can cut through the strongest medals with ease. In reaction times so quick they leave others in the dust.
This specific one was sent on an assassination mission to kill the Ambassador to a meeting of meeting of the leaders of the galaxy.
He torn his way through the roof of the transit truck. an especially large one, caring, probably dozens of lesser species. Scraping his way through the roof and couldn't wait to tear into the lesser species.
Only to hear words that will be stuck with him for the remainder of his life, which was very short.
"That's A Huge fucking rat"
Looking up rapidly he saw four gigantic beings standing easily three feet taller than even himself.
One of them grabbed A metal seat bolted to the floor using the strongest aluminum there is.
He wripped it out and threw it at him. Thinking as quickly as he could, he jumped out the way only for a Buton to hit him in the side of the.
Bone teeth and flesh tore away from the side of these four giants proceed to squish the giant rat flat
The video abruptly stops
And this class is why you don't fuck with humans.while being laughably slow take several minutes to do geometry, not even inside their own head.
They are by far the most physically stronger race there is. Barely having enough intelligence to get off their shit hole of a plant that we did not expect much I'm the new of species.
Until their physical attributes came into play coming from more the highest density planets, that can support life close enough. And the goldy locks zone to have enough energy To host gigantic creatures, the entire planet is home to giganticism of every form.
The standard Humans stands around 5'10. The galactic average is 1'4.
Having extremely dense muscles that require an absurd amount of energy, humans are somehow always hungry.
Everything about a human is gear towards physical strength. Do keep in mind this when you're next to a human. As to not accidentally hurt yourself around one, and the reason Im going over this species, specifically in history class.
Their involvement in the Salones war Is not able to be put into words how vital they were towards victory. The Salones come from the most vicious death world in the Galaxy. They are the perfected Organisms to survive on just about any planet. Normally, being able to tear apart any other species with their bare limbs.
Until humans came along all that perfection organism crap went out the window when you're getting hit in the face by something that could fold aluminum in half and laugh about it.
There are a variety of materials on their home world to to the high gravty. That others rarely available to them to use. Aluminum is nowhere near the strongest material on their planet. In fact, their skeletal structure incorporates metal that how abundantmetal is on ther home planet.
This also means that conventional weaponry was not an option for them instead of using the regular air pressure system that's commonly used today.
They invented a chemical system which releases at such high speeds. It's close to the sound barrier. Even then, that's not a guaranteed kill.
Pausing a moment, seeing the class was not paying much attention aside from the jocks.
How about I play your video just demonstrating how strong they are
booting up a video on the class projector, she proceeded to show a video of a young human. Probably five running in front of a fire range by accident.
Weaponry that shot compressed air with plastic spheres going at great speeds went down ranged and hit the cash straight in the head.
Many of the classes yelled, not wanting to see a young child die.
They are very quickly science.Doing the young child cried for its mother and she came barnching off the child saying that's what he gets for not listening to her.
The child was picked off the floor, barely even bleeding.
The class professor then showed the airsoft matche, demonstrating what they consider. Deadly weapon was nothing more than amoree mature toy for them.
Should I make more is this good?

Hi everybody! Going to give a fair amount of background…. One year ago I was noticing that whenever you would play a soccer game, especially in the cold, afterwards I would have some itchy bumps on my thighs, nothing crazy, and they would subside after half an hour. This would rarely happen and only with the combo of cold weather + intense exercise. Fast forward to two month ago, I moved from the east coast to the PNW, and believe I developed some type of jock itch (Don’t know if this is related at all). During this time, I also started developing hives all over my body in reaction to anything from physical movement, stress, temperature fluctuation. And these hives are slowly getting worse and worse, spreading to my entire body. The pictures I included are from the last week where before what it looked like scattered red dots, now is my entire body inflamed, with very little “regular skin” left. Whether it be going on a hike, getting slightly stressed on a work call, or even a short low intensity jog, I have started having these terrible reactions. Does anybody know what’s going on? I went to a derm when this first got bad when I first moved here, but they just brushed me off saying it’s chronic urticaria and to take allergy meds. Granted I only gave the allergy meds a week, they did not help any (I also get terrible mental side effects from allergy meds which is why I stopped after not getting better). Wondering what could help? My jock itch had seemed to subside by itself, but I realized that whenever this reaction happens I do get a bit itchy down there too, so a few days ago decided to start using ketoconazole on my affected area, but the hives have gotten even worse since I started using the lotion on my groin (first picture is from yesterday, second picture was from a couple weeks ago). Again, not sure if they are connected in any way, just thought it was interesting.

How on earth do you make an existing non-binary character and a wheelchair user feel out-of-place in a show they've existed in for several seasons?
Why was Eric having so much trouble fitting in when there was an entire school of peacock queer folk just down the road?
The whole genius of Sex Education's setting was that you had a rural British setting (with an admittedly more London-esque demographic) with some neat stylistic choices in terms of a US-inspired secondary school and 90s-only cars. It definitely feels like it was supposed to represent this transitional era and target millennials in their 30s, especially British ones who could relate to the frumpier aspects of the setting (Michael Groff as the headmaster, the cars, the interior decor) contrasted against the diverse cast. Weirdly, S4 felt like a legit case of "go woke, go broke" nonsense but the show was...already woke? Like, what were the showrunners thinking?
We had the high school jock character with two mums who fell for a nonbinary character. I'm sure queeenby folk might have been able to relate to the struggles of Cal. Sections of the audience who have absolutely no familiarity with the queer community could quite possibly still relate to Cal, because at some point in our lives, we have likely struggled with reconciling ourselves, our identities, and/or trying to 'fit in'. You had, quite honestly, masterful representation for non-binary/trans ideas presented in an extremely believable way and palatable to a cishet normative audience who could then begin to understand these issues in a relatable manner. Jackson falling for Cal was SO sincere and earnest a plotline, because you could easily imagine someone like Jackson, who is very traditionally cishet, but not close-minded, being curious about someone who was new and interesting...perhaps to prove to himself he was open-minded...and it did address the idea of Jackson possibly 'fetishizing' Cal, too. Putting myself in the shoes of a viewer who hasn't the foggiest re: LGBTQ+ affairs, that felt really believable.
Then S4 comes along and goes "HEY! Did you know this show is WOKE and PROGRESSIVE?!". Like, yeah? What the heck do you think we've been watching this past 3 seasons? Apparently, Moordale is full of LGBTQ+ teenagers, so where were they this whole time while our characters were having existential crises? Why was Cal and Eric et al struggling to begin with? Isaac, too, was a really cool inclusion of a physically disabled character, even in this stylized almost comic book setting. He felt grounded and realistic...then he goes to Cavendish and...feels out of place. It is jarring.
Stop patronizing your audiences with "overly" progressive ideas in your TV shows. Everyone was totally down with what Sex Education was doing. Black kid with two mums. A nonbinary character. Lesbian characters. Non-white characters. Disabled characters. Present them as real people in a real setting. Representation matters, and Sex Education s1 thru s3 showed us how to do it. S4 was embarrassing and a setback for how to handle representation. Why do you have to show us up like this?
I'm a bit late to the party here, but I'm very curious if anyone knows what was done differently. New showrunners, writers? Netflix directives? It really felt like some clueless new executives demanded to make the show "woke" even though the existing writing team was trying to tell them "it already is woke?". It is so bizarre, I cannot process how you "go woke, go broke" an existing woke show that was quite the opposite of broke.

Hi Pokemon Masters! At the end of today's stream, some sad things occurred and y'all seemed a little unsure of how to proceed. So, I thought it might be helpful if someone who has spent an unreasonable amount of time playing pokemon broke it down for you and gave some options for recovery.
And of course, feel free to ignore all of this! Who gives a shit what I think? Nick's the real Pokemon Master here.
Possible KevKevWetWet Replacements

Eedreevee (Vaporeon) - This would be MY personal choice. Simply put, it's just a better Lapras. It hits way harder, it's just as tanky, and it's even a little faster! The only downside is that it's not an Ice-type pokemon which means you won't get those STAB Ice Beams, but who even knows what STAB means? (Me and half the chat, but fuck us.) Plus, he'll resist fire attacks! Also, Vaporeon levels up much faster than Lapras or Gyarados.
8BitLuiz (Gyarados) - Now, chat will tell you that Gyarados is bad in this game, and, to their credit, they're right. Explaining the difference between physical and special moves in this generation is an absurd task, but it is sufficient to say that Gyarados is bad at Water and Ice attacks, which really are the value he's supposed to bring on your current team. HOWEVER! I just did my own Fire Red Nuzlocke, and you know who was on my team for the Elite Four? Gyarados. You know who kicked ass during the Elite Four? Gyarados. You can make him work, it just won't be as elegant as Lapras would have been. Plus he looks sick as hell.
Dewgong - I forget the nickname. I'm very sorry for that. Anyway, I don't love this choice, but I also don't hate it! It will be a distinct downgrade from Lapras in terms of hitting power and tank ability, but it has three notable strengths. First off, it's slightly faster. (Lapras has a base speed stat of 60, whereas Dewgong has 70.) It also learns Ice Beam naturally at level 51, which will help save money! And finally, Dewgong has a passive ability called Thick Fat (just like me fr fr), which reduces both Ice and Fire damage recieved by 50%. That's basically free fire resistance! Huge! (It also means Dewgong will never give a single shit about Ice attacks.)

Possible CMoreButtz Replacements

Articuno - I also forgot this nickname. Anyway. Articuno rules. Sure it has awful typing, but just don't put it into the fight with anything that can throw rocks. Problem solved. If you can avoid that, you'll have fast pokemon who can take hits and dish damage. That rules! Plus he'll be a good Ice attacker for the Elite Four, which is great.
Primeape - Some folks were saying you could catch useful pokemon on Victory Road, and looking at what's available, this seems to be the only one worth your time? But it'd be a cool pick! Primeape can be a little flimsy, but it's an evil little pokemon too!! It's very strong and learns Cross Chop at level 45. Remember when chat was afraid of the dojo? We were scared of Cross Chop. It hits hard and has a VERY high crit chance. Plus it'll make Kevin really happy! Also, like Vaporeon, Primeape levels up pretty fast!
Dratini/Dragonite - I would be remiss to leave this choice out. Dragonite is one of the best, more versatile pokemon in the game. He's great! But it's just SUCH a grind to make him useful, and you've already got a rough grind ahead of you. I do not recommend this pokemon, but damn would it pay off if you stuck with him.
Exeggutor - I know, he's ugly as shit. Look at that dumb face! However... if anyone could carry forth Tim's legacy, it would be Exeggutor. In a lot of ways, this is the best Grass pokemon in the game. The only real downside here is that its learned moveset isn't great. He requires a lot of preparation, and you've already sold the Sunny Day TM and used the Giga Drain TM on Tim. However, Solar Beam is a very strong move! (Also, my Nuzlocke Charizard died to an Exeggutor. Charizard's name was Greg. #Gregsux.)

Recommendations For Current Squad

Rexy (Zapdos) - Rexy kicks ass, and we all know it! However, I would recommend replacing Shock Wave with Thunder Bolt. It'll cost $80,000 at the Game Corner, but you're about to do so much grinding that I'm SURE you'll be able to afford it. However! Shock Wave is still a very useful move since it doesn't ever miss, and a lot of these recommendations will be costing you money, so it's your call!
Dylsh999 (Nidoking) - Listen. You don't understand the difference between physical and special moves. That's fine; chat doesn't understand it either! You know who also doesn't understand it? NIDOKING. Instead of hitting the books, this dumb jock pokemon is great at BOTH types of damage! And he has access to like almost every powerful move in the game! For your team, I would recommend having him know the moves Megahorn, Earthquake, and Surf. As a fourth move, I would teach him Return, Thunderbolt, or Ice Beam, depending on what the rest of your team looks like. (If you have enough money after grinding, it wouldn't hurt to replace Megahorn with either Thunderbolt or Ice Beam. It's not a bad attack, but it misses and a lot of important pokemon are resistant to it.
Cbent (Arcanine) - I have no advice for Cbent since he's already in great shape! However! I would not be writing any of this if y'all knew that Cbent has the Flash Fire passive ability. Flash Fire makes Cbent invulnerable to Fire attacks. In fact, getting hit by a fire attack makes Cbent STRONGER. If you're ever scared of a fire pokemon, just throw in Cbent and have him do non-fire attacks until the enemy dies.
BigThicTom (Gengar) - This is a small recommendation since we know Tom's an absolute bad ass, but I wanna just float out there that Gengar can learn Thunderbolt! And if you got money burning a hole in your pocket after that grinding, that might make for a good 4th move in his arsenal (after Shadow Ball, Psychic, and Shadow Punch).

Finally, A Grinding Recommendation
There's no way to make this grind anything less than a misery. You need to get your whole team up in the 55-60 range, which is brutal. What I would recommend though is working your way through Victory Road and fighting every trainer you see. Just beat everything's ass, you feel me? Then -- and I know this sucks -- go back to the DLC Islands and use the VS Seeker to fight those karate people. Ideally, you want to get both guys who are running at each other, those two trainers from the double battle, and that karate girl who's running along the beach. It's a little tricky, but it's doable to get them all on the same screen when you hit the VS Seeker. This is the most efficient grinding spot in the game!
The End!
This was a lot of words! I'm very sorry! I have an English degree and edit legal documents for a living, so I'm just kind of naturally verbose in the written form lmao. If you've read through all of this, I hope it was helpful and, also, I hope this wasn't super annoying! Y'all are the best and I've been loving the streams!!!

I always wanted to design a champion that feels like flying a plane. Or driving a train. Or a boat. Or a car. Or... push a wheelbarrow? Since the mini rework kind of robbed Tahm Kench of his identity as league of legend's only cab company, I wanted to refill this niche. So unleash all your suppressed road rage with

Gerth, Deadman driving

May Contest: This concept fulfills the third prompt of the contest since catapulting allies while changing the direction is only possible using another spell should count as unique. Hopefully it also meets the forth prompt for his whole kit revolves around driving people or using his wheelbarrow in various ways.
The being that currently calls himself Gerth is one of the oldest demons haunting Runeterra, associated with death and decay. After eons of carrying the deceased to their afterlife, Gerth began to question his eternal task because of a dead cow he found humming with life. Far from being a grim reaper, the ever cheerful Gerth gained new purpose in retrieving the dead from the very afterlife he had once brought them to.
Classes: Warden, Enchanter
Roles: Support
Region: Unlocated
Gerth is a burly man with pale skin and dark, tousled hair that peeks out from under a broken top hat. He wears a pinstripe waistcoat that is far too tight and stretches across his broad chest and pushes a rickety wooden wheelbarrow in front of him. He usually walks with a slight hunch, but can also jump over his barrow with extraordinary agility if he wants to.
In battle, Gerth either rams his opponents with his wheelbarrow or slaps them with his muscular arms.

Lore

Over the eons, Gerth has had many names and even more shapes, from a dung beetle that rolls the skeletons of small animals in front of him to the jock with the wheelbarrow. But in all these eons, Gerth had never asked himself for a meaning. To be precise, he had never asked himself anything at all. He was more a law of nature than a conscious being, no more inclined to philosophy than gravity.
The first question Gerth asked himself was when he delivered a small stuffed bear to a woman in Noxus. This was new, because as far as Gerth could tell, this bear had never lived, apart from the fact that its fur was made of plant fibers. And the woman's house was certainly not the afterlife. He had never delivered something other than cadavers. So, the first question Gerth asked himself was “why” and he was never going to find an answer.
The second question Gerth asked himself was when he picked up the same woman a few years later. She was just ash rolling finely over the ground, so he swept her up with a shovel and carefully loaded her onto his barrow. As he did so, he noticed the very same teddy bear he had delivered before stare at him with flaming red eyes. Again, the question was “why” and this time again Gerth was not to have an answer.
The third question Gerth asked himself, when he picked up a cow; and he spoke it out loud. He was called to an animal market on the outskirts of Shurima, where a cow, just ripe for the butcher, had died in the sun. The hungry birds had been too quick and already pecked thick holes in her flesh before anyone could take the cow away.
The farmer who had owned the cow turned to Gerth and said: “Let it be yours for three. Only three I say, and I don't want any more. Because her meat stinks so much that it drives my customers away.”
Gerth was already counting the coins out of his pocket as he thought. Again, the question was “why”, but this time he was able to ask it. “Why?” asked Gerth, closing his fist around the money, the farmer looked at him as if he was stupid. Which was perhaps understandable; after all, Gerth had only asked himself three questions in his entire eons-long life so far. “Because the meat smells dead. Away I say, and only for two if you do it now.”
Gerth thought until its head hurt. Which was quick, as he wasn't used to it. “No,” he finally said. “I smell more life in this cow than in all the cows mooing in the pasture. I see the worms gnawing at her flesh, the flies flying into her nose and laying little white eggs from which a whole new generation of flies will hatch. And each of these flies will fear death just as this cow feared death.” The farmer wanted to hit Gerth with his fist, but he held back because he knew he was dealing with a demon. “You say this cow reeks of death, but all I smell is life. So why? Why am I picking up this cow and not one of the other cows in the pasture?”
The farmer couldn't give him an answer. ‘You're a demon,’ he stammered, ‘That's what you do.’
“Hm”, said Gerth. Then he laid only a single coin into the farmer's hand and loaded the cow onto his barrow. He listened to the buzzing of the flies, the gnawing of the worms and the bubbling of her rotting guts as he left the village. A small murky stream flowed not very far away. Gerth put the cow in there, because he knew that it would please the hungry fish.

Stats

Health: 640 - 2391
Health regen. (per 5 s.): 9.5 - 23.95
AD: 62 - 130
Attack speed: 0.625 (+ 29.75%)
Range: 125
Amor: 47 - 126.9
Magic res.: 32 - 66.85
Mov. speed: 285

Abilities

Passiv The Hearse
Wheelbarrow’s Size: 120 x 120
Innate - The Gravedigger’s only Compagnion: Gerth pushes a wheelbarrow as he moves, which acts as terrain but is indestructible. The distance between the barrow and Gerth cannot be changed under any circumstances. Its position remains unaffected by Gerth turning around. If Gerth moves in the direction of the barrow, he gains 80 - 120 (based on level) bonus movement speed.
Basic attacks against targets in front of his wheelbarrow cause him to push it forward, attacking all enemies in front of the barrow, dealing 6% of his maximum health bonus physical damage. Non-champion units and champions affected by hard CC are knocked back, though not through terrain.
Innate - Carriage: Allies may enter the wheelbarrow by right clicking on it, becoming attached to it, but are still able to cast abilities. Ranged champions are also able to perform basic attacks while being wheeled around. Movement commands, dashes or blinks cause the ally to leave the barrow. Getting affected by hard CC also causes the ally to fall off. The barrow can only carry one ally at a time.
While carrying an ally Gerth’s basic attacks with his wheelbarrow deal additional 6% of the ally’s maximum health bonus physical damage to all enemies hit.
Q Close Call
Cooldown: 6
Cast Time: none
Range: 60
Impact Radius: 200
Active: Gerth lifts up his wheelbarrow and slams it into the ground at the target location, relocating it and dealing 60/100/140/180/220 (+ 6% of his maximum health) physical damage to all enemies hit, knocking them up for 0.75 seconds. If he is carrying an ally, he deals additional 6% of the ally’s maximum health bonus physical damage to all enemies hit.
W Traffic Violation
Cooldown: 6
Cast Time: none
Passiv: Every time he uses Close Call or the active part of Traffic Violation, Gerth gains a Stack of Road Rage for 4 seconds, stacking up to 2 times.
Road Rage: Directly after using Close Call or the active part of Traffic Violation, Gerth can perform a follow up attack using his wheelbarrow with significantly shorter animation. If he hits a champion or large monster, he consumes all stacks of Road rage, gaining a shield for 2.5 seconds, blocking up to 20/30/40/50/60 (+ 3% of his maximum health) damage per stack. Allies inside the barrow are also granted the shield.
Active: Gerth jumps towards a target location by his wheelbarrow, turning it around and changing his position relative to it.
E Mourning Veil
Cooldown: 24/22/20/18/16
Cast Time: 0.25
Active: In a swirl of fabric, Gerth veils the ally inside his wheelbarrow all in black, granting them 30/35/40/45/50% bonus attack speed and empowering their basic attacks with long lengths of black fabric to deal additional 32/44/56/68/80 (+ 10% AP) bonus magic damage on-hit. Melee champions also gain 200 bonus range and become ranged champions for the duration, allowing them to attack while being driven around by Gerth. The empowered basic attacks of his ally increase Gerth’s bonus movement speed from The Hearse by 20/25/30/35/40% for 1 second. The veil persists for 4 seconds or until the ally leaves the barrow.
Gerth can only cast this ability when an ally is inside his wheelbarrow.
R Sky Burial
Cooldown: 140/120/100
Cast Time: none
Maximum Range: 3500
Impact Radius: 300
Active: Gerth charges up for up to 4 seconds to increase Sky Burial’s range and damage. After that, he can hold the charge 4 seconds further.
After 0.5 seconds Sky Burial can be recast within the duration. If Gerth cancels the channel himself, or the charge completes without reactivation, the cooldown is reset to 6 seconds.
Recast: Gerth uses his wheelbarrow as a catapult, launching the ally inside towards the target location, dealing 100/150/200 (+ 20/25/30% of the ally’s maximum health) physical damage on impact to all enemies hit, knocking them up for 1 second. The damage increases by up to 100% depending on the duration of the charging done.
Gerth can decide how far he wants to hurl his ally, but the direction is determined by the wheelbarrow and always the exact opposite direction to it.
Gerth can only recast this ability when an ally is inside his wheelbarrow. He can however start charging without an ally in his barrow.

Playstyle

Intendet strengths:

enhances team's mobility & kiting
fast roaming
possibility to encounter a ranged Darius, beeing wheeled around with 600 movement speed

Intendet Weaknesses:

needs spells (Q, E) to redirect his wheelbarrow
very slow if not moving in the wheelbarrow's direction
weak lane due to lack of poke & sustain

Keystones:

Resolve: Guardian, Shield Bash, Second Wind, Unflinching
Sorcery: Nimbus Cloak, Celerity

Core Item build:

Bloodsong/Dream MakeSolistice Sleigh
Boots of Swiftness/Mobility Boots
Trailblazer

I don’t have tmau diagnosis but symptoms of it (fecal body odor, fungal infections etc)
Carnivore diet has helped me a lot. Strictly carnivore for 2 weeks now and reactions are almost 80% non existent (think regular body odor is back) I’ve been more physically close to people these last two weeks. My niece of 4 years old hugged me non stop for 10 minutes the other day (NEVER DONE BEFORE)
I dont have the IBS, anal itching symptoms improved Jock itch fungal infection has completely cleared My breath is getting better (50%)
I’m still early into the diet and going longer term but I know the feeling of hopelessness and trying everything under the sun.

DISCLAIMER: Don't take this too seriously, it's meant to be more of a joke and exaggeration, started almost entirely by the mental image of three hardened criminals sitting in a bar, pondering that they still absolutely need to recruit a Catholic priest and some band guy or their next bank robbery just won't work. No offense intended towards any actual groups, nor to make light of any social issues. Also, I'm aware there's games with actual modernity-appropriate classes, but the absurdity of a nearly 1:1 port is exactly the point here. Finally, note that I play both D&D (various editions) and PF 1E and 2E, so expect a mixture of classes from either and some cherrypicking of interpretations.
FOREWORD: Style of play I'm imagining similar to Shadowrun or Cyberpunk, with a focus on the underworld, teams of specialists hired by fixers for various jobs of dubious legality, or vigilantism or hustling maybe. If one wanted to be extra absurd, it could also involve travelling the world in a camper van and taking on quests, or getting tasked with an important mission by a head of state (this may work better in a fictional modern-day setting instead of our own world). Class names are meant to be professional slang you'd see in that kind of environment, like Shadowrun's Street Samurai for example, thus justifying the existence of the classes themselves. But since it's supposed to be not cyberpunk, but the present, I deliberately tried to pick names that sound like they could be part of normal conversation too.
Magicless doesn't mean classes don't still have their powers and spells, just that they're explained differently, like by drugs or applied psychology or the like. Think a "wizard" (Pundit) casting a "fireball" by mentally calculating the exact angle they need to shoot a gas pipe to cause an explosion.
Without further ado, the...

CLASSES
Militant (Fighter): Skillful weapons specialists and fighting experts who can handle any threat and stare down the barrel of a gun without flinching. Many are (former) soldiers, mercenaries, or private security, less commonly also from a background in law enforcement or violent crime, but anyone with the right abilities can be a Militant.
Thrasher (Barbarian): Tough guys, muscleheads, and sometimes also bullies, who get what they want by utilizing brutality, fear, and a vicious temper. Thrashers are often gang members and thugs, bikers, delinquents, jocks, pro wrestlers, or particularly dedicated powerlifters. Frequently appearing as a part of highly insular social cliques, they are prone to adopting neotribal mindsets, symbols, and practices.
Blackbelt (Monk): Martial arts and/or ascetic masters (not just disciples or regular practitioners) with almost superhuman control over their own body. Despite the name, these adepts of the physical can pursue any martial arts tradition, as well as freestyle street fighting, pro wrestling, self defense courses, special forces training, parcours, extreme sports, and of course practices such as yoga. While some seek enlightenment or health benefits, others hunger to put their skills to the test in a manner only real combat can provide.
Outlander (Ranger): Armed and dangerous people who thrive in the wilderness. Survivalists, hunters, drifters, particularly experienced outdoorsmen, forest rangers, animal trainers, and sometimes preppers or guerillas are all common candidates. Many Outlanders hold strong convictions, in a cowboyish sort of way, and so they are also found among military special forces or police departments, particularly as handlers to service animals.
Jailbird (Rogue): Multi-talented if often dubious individuals, prized especially as infiltration and security specialists. While they needn't be actual criminals, just in possession of the right talents, many still are of a less than legal disposition, and a brief stint in prison can certainly lead to picking up useful new tricks. Common sub-groups include murderers and serial killers, cat burglars and pickpockets, home invaders, carjackers, hackers, scammers and con artists, smugglers of arms/drugs/etc., as well as urban partisans.
Ideological Crusader (Paladin/Antipaladin): Stalwart defenders and enforcers of a given idea of justice, a social code, or an organization, capable of backing their demands with violence if necessary. They are natural authority figures with an extra edge in doggedness stemming from their strong beliefs. The vast majority of Ideological Crusaders originate in law enforcement (particularly riot cops) or sometimes the fire department or military special forces, but some are revolutionaries, armed activists, or members of neighborhood watches or citizen militias. Should they go rogue and their beliefs end up becoming toxic, however, Ideological Crusaders tend to turn into dreaded hatemongers or terrorists.
Special Operative (Inquisitor): The quintessential experts in making problems disappear, Special Operatives achieve (preferably) noble goals using subtle, unorthodox and sometimes questionable means, resolving delicate matters with cunning rather than the Ideological Crusader's brute force. Usually belonging to and trained in special tactics by some kind of organization, most serve(d) in intelligence agencies or commando units, but they may also be detectives in the police department, professional hitmen, or hacktivists and leakers and the like.
Humanitarian (Cleric): Devoted souls who follow a philosophy or faith they believe will help humanity, often trained in a variety of useful medical and mental techniques. Their skills may vary depending on the content of their particular belief system, with some potentially being quite sinister, but overall, Humanitarians are still primarily experts at keeping their team alive with first aid and supporting them in whichever way is necessary. Most have a background as healthcare personell such as doctors, surgeons, and nurses, but there's also plenty of social and charity workers and sometimes therapists to be found.
Additionally, a strong link exists between Humanitarians and religion. While ordinary ministers will rarely just go out to take on legally questionable jobs or vigilante work, some do protect their flock that way, and more still may be trying to save the souls of the underworld's denizens or view themselves as exorcists battling demonic forces. This goes twice so for the recruiters, envoys and missionaries of cults, of which there is an abundance in the underworld.
New Ager (Druid): Masters of the natural world. Using herbs and drugs, New Agers achieve a number of altered states of consciousness, enabling them to excel at various tasks with ease almost as if they could wholly transform themselves. When not doing this, they support their allies with wilderness knowledge, patch them up with "alternative" medicine, or command and train animals. Besides actual New Agers (who can come from any background), the class also frequently attracts environmentalists, naturalists, animal breeders, and natural scientists.
Influencer (Bard): Often glamorous individuals for whom doors swing wide open and ears perk up. Influencers are communications specialists, charmers, and frequently powerful orators and motivational speakers, who also know and dabble in a little bit of everything as a result of their colorful lives. In spite of the name, most members of this class are not youtubers, but rather celebrities of every kind, starlets and media personalities, entertainers and performers, life coaches, as well as journalists and reporters. While the class also contains plenty of artists (not just of the performing but also of the creative arts), their profession alone does not make them members, rather the ability to influence and powerfully motivate others is what counts (and a heaping of fame certainly doesn't hurt either!).
Middleman (Warlock/Witch): Middlemen are, for good and for ill, deeply connected and indebted to a powerful organization or individual, usually in an extremely unequal manner. This so-called sponsor they can call on for favors. Some examples of sponsors include organized crime, cults, megacorporations, or shady political lobbies. What the Middleman may achieve depends on the sponsor in question, but the support is always highly useful, from receiving access to exclusive venues to getting to borrow bleeding edge technology. In turn, however, the sponsor has their own expectations and demands and will sometimes come to collect their due. If the expectations are not fulfilled, support will be cut off, if not far worse.
Besides their main sponsor, Middlemen also collect lesser contacts and knowledge on how to play social institutions and conventions to their advantage. This, for instance, enables them to shield their allies from the law. They make excellent fixers for similar reasons. Anyone who enters a Faustian bargain may become a Middleman, but it is particularly common among entrepreneurs, lawyers, politicians, and similar power players. Membership in the sponsoring organization is not required, but still fairly common, especially as a delegate or representative of sorts.
Pundit (Wizard): Providers of expert knowledge. Ensure their allies always have all necessary information about their surroundings and can devise uniquely ingenious ad-hoc solutions to problems based on their chosen field of study, known theorems, and subjects they have recently looked into. Usually academics and other well-educated types, often with an actual university degree or even a professorship, but some private scholars or hyper-dedicated hobby nerds, too. Many are programmers or scientists (frequently pursuing one of the "big three" fields: biology, chemistry, or physics), researching, inventing, and using technology and other fruits of scientific labor, sometimes even creating things themselves when mechanical skill is not central (i.e. mixing chemicals). However, every field has its ways of dealing with problems, from highly communicative media studies to wealth-multiplying economics, and while scientists are often associated with gadgets, what a Pundit's ad-hoc solution looks like can really vary wildly.
Many interdisciplinary Pundits also exist, but in the first place, all Pundits have mastered research. Therefore, fields of study are more about with what approach and level of difficulty a goal can be accomplished, rather than what the Pundit can or can't do at all (unless it's of an "opposed" field, i.e. a field that fills with the Pundit with dread and horrid memories of their school days).
(NOTE: I've considered a pure Scientist class, but I liked the idea of university humanities professors regularly getting into shootouts too much.)
Technician (ArtificeAlchemist/Inventor): Technology specialists who excel at the hands-on operation, modification, and construction of various types of hardware, in contrast to the more theory-focused and software-based leanings of other classes like the Pundit or Savant (though a Technician can still absolutely learn how to program and hack). Technicians may come from the ranks of engineers graduated from their university with highest honors just as much as humble car mechanics, passionate amateur craftsmen, or even certain construction workers. Besides these, other popular specializations include electricians, driving fanatics, fighter or drone pilots, gunsmiths, saboteurs, and demolitions specialists.
(NOTE: This is essentially a fusion between craftsmen and pilots/drivers. Doesn't necessarily make that much sense to lump them together, but it's really hard to find a role other than dedicated getaway driver to play for a standalone driver class and Shadowrun's Rigger archetype provided some inspiration and a connection point.)
Savant (Sorcerer): Counterparts to the Pundit with similar abilities. Savants appear to possess a natural affinity and passion for the things that fascinate them strong enough to put them on equal footing with academics who gained their skills by more traditional means.
(NOTE: The Savant stereotype doesn't align so well with Sorcerers making for good socialmancers, so maybe these should be INT instead of CHA casters?)
Miracle Worker (Favored Soul/Oracle): Counterparts to the Humanitarian with similar abilities. Zealots, self-proclaimed prophets, and sometimes cult leaders hoping to impress future followers, Miracle Workers make up for the Humanitarian's specialist training with sheer confidence in their own abilities, mystifying language, and oftentimes more than a little bit of madness.
Medicine Man (Spirit Shaman): Counterparts to the New Ager with similar abilities. Achieve their skills less through drugs and herbs and more by "letting the spirits guide them", which is to say, through a combination of religious practices, empathic emotional connections with their environment and unconscious imitation of others, as well as sometimes through culturally inherited or acquired knowledge. May actually have an indigeneous background, or just wish they did.
Adventurer (Swashbuckler): Even in this day and age, there are occasionally people whose life story reads like something straight out of a movie script. Skillful generalists with a lot of panache. For some reason, this class tends to attract archaeologists the most.
Investigator (Investigator): Whether as private eyes, police detectives, or sometimes scientific researchers, investigators do exactly what their name says, getting results with their ability to draw the right conclusions and pursue leads.

TEAM ROLES
A well-balanced team archetypically consists of at least one Muscle, Breacher, Medic, and Egghead.
Muscle / Combat Specialist: Keeps the team safe from danger and if necessary draws it towards themselves. Suitable for: Militants, Thrashers, Blackbelts, Ideological Crusaders, Outlanders, sometimes Technicians or Adventurers.
Breacher / Security Specialist: Bypasses security and gets the team in and out where they're not supposed to be, whether by social infiltration or an old-fashioned break-in. Suitable for: Jailbirds, Special Operatives, Influencers, sometimes Blackbelts, Outlanders, Investigators, or Adventurers.
Medic / Support Specialist: Helps everyone stay alive and keeps them at their best. Suitable for: Humanitarians, Miracle Workers, New Agers, Medicine Men, sometimes Outlanders or Ideological Crusaders.
Egghead / Knowledge Specialist: Solves more intellectual challenges and helps out in numerous ways, often roped into tech/science support even if it's not their specialization. Suitable for: Pundits, Savants, Technicians, sometimes Influencers, Middlemen, or Investigators.
Nerd/Hacker / Tech Specialist: Optional, for when not covered by the Breacher and the Egghead is severely allergic to the natural sciences. Deals with tech. Suitable for: Pundits, Savants, Technicians, sometimes Jailbirds or Special Operatives.
Face / Social Specialist: Optional, for when the Breacher isn't a social butterfly. Represents and oftentimes leads the team and does the talking where required. Suitable for: Influencers, Middlemen, Ideological Crusaders, sometimes Adventurers.
Manager (Earner, Mom, Greaser) / Resource & Public Relations Specialist: Optional, depending on overall team composition and Fixer. May also be split into the three separate roles of Earner, Mom, and Greaser. Earner and Mom are two sides of the same coin, the former managing the team's side-hustles and extra sources of income, as well as purchasing equipment, while the latter takes care of supply and gear maintenance and also of all matters related to hideouts and the team's general needs. The Greaser is the team's networking specialist and often also their lawyer, greasing the right palms and ensuring law enforcement and other factions turn a blind eye to the team's activities. Suitable for: Middlemen are practically born for this, but Jailbirds, Influencers, Technicians, Pundits, and Savants also do well at various aspects of the role.
Eyes & Ears / Research Specialist: Optional, for when it's not the Breacher's (or sometimes the Egghead's) thing. The Eyes & Ears continually gathers intel and gossip and keeps the team abreast of recent events, potential dangers, and new opportunities. Suitable for: Investigators, Jailbirds, Special Operatives, Influencers, sometimes Middlemen.
Wheelman / Driving Specialist: Optional, for when nobody else is a particularly good driver. Primarily the designated and getaway driver, may also take care of and perhaps upgrade the team vehicle. Suitable for: Technicians, Jailbirds, Special Operatives, Ideological Crusaders, Adventurers, sometimes Outlanders.
Deadeye / Sniping Specialist: Optional, for when the Muscle is a Blackbelt, Thrasher, or otherwise close-combat preferring fighter. Does ranged combat, that's it. Suitable for: Outlanders, Militants, Jailbirds, Special Operatives, sometimes Technicians.
Treehugger / Wilderness Specialist: Optional, for when the group heads into the great outdoors for a prolonged period of time. Helps them not die there. Suitable for: Outlanders, New Agers, Medicine Men.
Fixer: Provides the team with jobs from interested parties and may also double as the Manager. Could be a designated part of the team or a freelancer. Suitable for: Any class, but Middlemen are the most common.

Where?: Chapin Forest Reservation in Kirtland, OH
When?: May 4-5, 2024
Goal: Uhh…
Stretch Goal: Find anything remotely appetizing.
Strategy: Pray?
This is the game plan at mile 50. 11.5 hours in. Are my seams really starting to split before the actual race begins? My cheer team from the daylight hours has dwindled. Off to their warm, luxurious beds and their warm, luxurious homes. But I’m out here doing exactly what I love to do, paying the price for it, and curious as to what I’ll find in this vast, approaching darkness.
——
This race was my litmus test. I’d done a few self-supported solo 50ks in the past, but I had yet to find my limit. I eagerly scrambled onto Ultrasignup the morning that I saw registration finally opened. Relying on a totally juvenile, unstructured 8-month training block averaging 50-60 mpw, I was ready to fuck around and find out.
Around 5am, my sister (who’d be my long-haul crew) and I arrived at the inky-blue park grounds; the overnighters still slumbering in their unlit camps, a few runners quietly organizing gear in truck beds and backseats as the balmy darkness lifted. We claimed our spot near the final bend of the 1-mile loop and began setting up as the sleepy atmosphere started to stir.
We took a stroll around the loop, admired “the hill” which comprised most, if not all of the 64-ish feet of vertical gain of the lap. All of us would grow a deep, intimate bond with this hill over the next day. Whether we wanted to or not. Because in the end, even more beautifully menacing foes would make themselves known.
It’s truly a wonderful course, however. It felt evenly broken up into distinct sections with their own unique landmarks and quirks: parking lot, trailhead, the “crescent” between two trail crossings, the hill, the bridge, rolling bunny hills before a smooth downhill, a few flat curves before heading down the straightaway along the field, final turn down another small pine-lined straightaway towards the hairpin back to the start. Monotony, to my surprise, would not be an issue.
Time to toe the line for the send-off. Balmy, cool, and overcast— not too shabby. An odd sense of tranquility washed over me in the corral. Maybe it was the peace of finally surrendering to the thing I hadn’t been able to wrap my head around this entire time: 24 hours. It was a huge relief to know that for the next entire day, I wouldn’t have to worry about much else other than finding a way to put one foot in front of the other. Nowhere to be, nowhere to go. And then, away we went.
——
Mile 0-20 [00:00:00-03:48:27]
I probably went out too fast. But damn, most everyone else seemed to, too! Maybe it was our collective exaltation of finally breaking free from our antsy tapers… or maybe it was just me. At any rate, it simply felt beautiful just to be moving.
A handful of miles in, I already got to chatting with a fella, as big as a minute and full of zest & zeal. A nomadic ultra veteran who looked like he’d been out in the scorching sun longer than I’ve been alive. But he ignited my spirits and made a few laps whiz by like nothing. I think he ended up carrying many other runners through more crucial hours. That guy definitely got me into the encouraging spirit of the endurance game, and I found a strong desire to pass that energy along.
Shortly after hour 2, my lady showed up with her sweet little face and bearing bunch of goodies that would prove to be lifesavers later on. I took a short break to tape up some hot spots and re-supply, but otherwise I was getting into the groove. Feeling fine. Surprised (and simultaneously concerned) that I was maintaining a consistent 10-11 minute pace.
Mile 20-40 [03:48:27-08:31:53]
I’d known long before the race that my Plan A had a 100% chance of falling apart. So would Plan B, C, and so forth. Plan A was to take a substantial break around every 2 hours— fully pull-off into camp, reevaluate gear, eat, re-up on food to-go, first-aid, etc.
I’d been dropping off my soft flasks for refills whenever I needed and picking them up on the next lap, but at about 4 hours in, I was getting a little worried. I‘ve been blessed with a pea-sized bladder, so not hitting the little boys room for over about two hours was a bit concerning. I didn’t want to dig the hydration grave this early, so I began diligently pounding water and tailwind like they owe me money, passing off flasks every loop or two.
Approaching mile 30, I ended up hiking the hill alongside a guy who’d been constantly passing me, looking consistently strong and relaxed. We both commiserated on starting to feel the burn. “I think I’m gonna stop at 50k”, he said. “Nonsense!” I blurted, “there’s a whole lot of race left, man!” I mean, the dude looked like he was fresh off the starting line, and I told him that. Plus he was only a few miles away from his goal. I caught him a little later on his victory lap. Had to give him props for the extra loop. I hope he got a few more in after that.
Midway through hour 6, more friendly faces of family and loved ones showed up to witness the absurdity. I’d just passed mile 33, and while my pace began to dwindle and dip into 12:00 and 13:00, I was still trucking and my soul still relatively intact. Relatively.
Alas, wrapping up mile 35, my cheer team was as numerous and jubilant as ever, and the sobering truth hit me across the head like a sock full of quarters: I’m only a fraction of the way through this thing. I wearily gazed in bags and rifled through coolers for fuel… and absolutely nothing sounded appetizing. I did not want to eat. I understood I had to, but I couldn’t decide on something to shove down that didn’t look utterly repulsive.
I’m pretty sure at one point I just thought aloud to everyone, “I’m really sad right now…” I’m not even sure if I really meant it. In fact, I’m not even sure what I meant to say, or even sure of what I was feeling. And that’s when I spotted the container of watermelon. God bless my sweet lady. She saved my sorry boo-hoo ass with those watermelon chunks. It was nectar. Pure. Lifebreathing. A borderline religious experience.
My sister geared up to keep me company for a few loops. I changed socks and switched to a fresh pair of shoes. So, with a newfound hope just dim enough to shine, I threw some boiled peewee potatoes into my vest and ventured on.
Mile 40-50 [08:31:53-11:22:10]
Among my bubbly cheer team was my lady’s father, a guy who’s been doing ultras long before I was even a thought. He wanted to get a few loops in with me, and I secretly hoped he would drop some life-altering ultra wisdom on me that would somehow alleviate all the bodily bullshit that was just starting to surface after the 40 mile mark.
We went easy, and I needed it. His pace was comfortable and sustainable, but the pounding was continuing to take its toll. The outer ligament behind my right knee began to smart with each step, and the top of my right foot was getting more tender as we went on. None of it was getting less painful. Instead of some earth-shattering, all-curing wisdom, he gave me something actually valuable: the truth. “I think you’re gonna be forced to walk pretty soon.”
Damn straight. In hindsight, what the fuck else did I expect to happen? I barely allowed myself any significant stretches of walking in the entire race up until this point. I surely wasn’t expecting to keep running the way I was in the first 20-30 miles— but whatever sleeper-cell of hubris that arose within me today was likely going to be served a fat slice of humble pie.
Truthfully, I just wanted nothing more than to give this thing my all. 24 hours was still too unwieldy to fit in my mind. So was 12 hours. So was the next hour. I was approaching the event horizon of the almighty present moment. Plans, expectations, goals… all began to dissolve under any amount of scrutiny. Because those things were becoming so besides the point. Something much greater and truer was revealing itself. A sense of appreciation grew that had little to do with running or suffering. There was so much race left, and even in my shitty state, I felt a great relief.
As I wrapped up mile 50, my cheer team fizzled out along with the light of day, and shit was finally getting real. His prediction was absolutely correct. The time was nigh that I would no longer be able to run with the pain. But I sure as hell could walk. On our last loop together, he left me with another piece of wisdom: “You’d be surprised at what happens in the middle of the night.”
Mile 50-64 [11:22:10-16:46:29]
“Oi sir, what are you doing?”
“Uh... trudging. You know, trudging? …To trudge: the slow, weary, depressing yet determined walk of a man who has nothing left in life except the impulse to simply… soldier on.” — A Knight’s Tale
—
I’d quickly come to grips with the idea of walking the remaining 12 hours. I texted my folks that the wheels had fallen off and I would endure an indefinite trudge. I was 11 miles away from 100k, which for me was plenty to be proud of. My sister tagged along with me for at least 6 or 7 of those initial “full-time” walking loops. Just chatting, belly-laughing, growing a little delirious, bumping various volumes of Jock Jams during breaks as my appetite started to come alive again.
Cup of ramen in hand on the trail, motes of pollen whizzing by in the light of my headlamp, the tranquil cacophany of crickets and frogs from deep within the perfect blackness… It was simply good enough to just be out there. This bizarre alternate reality was becoming my new home.
After a rest at mile 55, I figured it would finally be a proper time to bust out the big guns: caffeine and tunes. Boy, oh boy am I so glad I held off on my luxuries. Sipping on a can of Guru, jams in the headphones, my trudge became more of a solo top-rocking battle. The course had thinned out dramatically after dark, so the exaggerated bobbing and cartoonish, gesticulative path of my headlamp probably looked amusing from a distance. And completely unhinged up close. I was visibly, shamelessly enjoying myself at this point.
Music felt like the headiest drug, and caffeine… well, it is a drug. I was getting locked in to a pretty decently paced hike (or so it felt), soaking it all in, unbridled from any expectations, and seemingly from reality altogether. I enthusiastically pounded ‘round to mile 60, and by then walking started to feel… actually pretty damn good! Once I passed 100k, I dared a few yards of a trot. Oh shit, okay! That didn’t feel too bad! As I rounded the final bend past camp to wrap up mile 63, I picked up my feet into a careful, steady shuffle. I turned to catch my sister’s attention, punching the air in pathetic, delirious triumph, and her face lit up from above her book.
I was fucking doing it. Nothing hurt and everything was beautiful again. It wasn’t fast, but it sure as hell wasn’t slow. I stripped off my walking hoodie and theatrically threw it back at camp. I wouldn’t need it anymore. The warmth of the proverbial second wind would carry me.
Mile 64-75 [16:46:29-19:53:07]
I’d found a shuffling stride that was gentle and sufficient enough, and best of all, didn’t absolutely obliterate my right knee or foot. At this point, my toes felt like they were going to explode. All of them. But somehow it mattered so little. My quads were getting ripped a fresh pair of assholes on the downhills. Guess I’ll just twinkle-toe gingerly down those. It mattered so little. The amount of general soreness my entire body was experiencing was colossally esclipsed by the simple novelty that, by means unknown to me, I was running again.
I passed a trio of hikers who must’ve recognized me from the previous walking loops featuring my manic B-boy episode, because suddenly a woman from the group erupts, “YES!! LOOK AT YOU GO!!! LOOK AT YOU!! YOU’RE DOING IT!!” And boy did that have my heart soaring and bursting with fresh colors. I shout back with a corny, “I don’t know what the hell is going on! But I’m taking it!” Or something else also completely stupid and to that effect.
Many of the other overnighters had to have known exactly what I was experiencing. Because so many kind and encouraging words found me on those next 9 loops. And I did my best to give the handful of other night owls their rightful props, too.
My appetite held strong in these hours. Powdered mini-donuts were unexpectedly bangin’. Cold pizza, Pringle’s, overnight oats, cheese quesadillas I’d been picking at all race. Things were good. But as I got up from camp to wrap up mile 72, I could feel my triumphant flight coming to a descent. Top of my foot, behind my knee, my achilles, all of the little snags were surfacing again. I managed to eke out a couple wimpy laps in this state, and mile 75 would be the last hurrah of my second wind. The pains would resume business as usual, and Mr. Trudge would be holding court yet again.
Mile 75-81 [19:53:07-22:20:44]
The long walk. Rain began to patter through the shadowy new leaves above. I was certain I would not have the gumption to attempt a trot for the remainder of the race. Doing my best means a lot to me, but not getting injured means more.
My sister joined me every other lap. I started to grow a little delirious in earnest. Roots frequently mistaken for oversized newts. Shadows and pollen motes playing tricks in the light of my headlamp. I’d turn my headlamp off occasionally and let the impossible darkness swell into life; the brush would softly billow from obscurity into vague form, and finally the trail would reveal itself as my eyes adjusted, like a gentle beacon cutting through the shapeless black under a canopy-cracked steel-pink sky.
I remained pretty quiet. Even when my sister came along. Still had my music going quietly, and a cold brew coffee that made me have to piss literally every ten minutes. Sometimes I’d just piss myself if I found myself bookended by headlamps. I’d already been soaked by some flash downpours— okay who am I kidding. I probably would’ve pissed myself regardless. The race is almost over, and I didn’t give a fuck. I didn’t give a fuck who gave a fuck. I wasn’t angry. I wasn’t sleepy. I was walking. Only walking. I wasn’t really thinking about anything. No words. No images. No ideas. No cares.
At this point, dear reader, we were getting close to heart of the onion. The existential onion. I’d been shedding layers all day and night, whether I knew it or not, and now some sample-sized essence of singularity was being unceremoniously revealed. No thinking. Just doing. It didn’t feel great. It didn’t feel bad. It didn’t matter what it was. The most serene emptiness. That serene emptiness pulled me around to close in on mile 80. The sun was coming up again.
At that moment I passed camp for what I planned to be the bittersweet end, my sister pops out of the gazebo and gestures down the path, wordlessly saying “One more?”
The thought of doing the loop even once more made me feel ill. Not physically. But in some intangible way. The thought of trying to get up the hill before my groin muscles and achilles detonate was bleak. Downhills? I’d rather be… fucking buried alive, I don’t know. But I can’t let big sis down. She doesn’t know I’m so spent. Plus, I didn’t want to do my last lap alone.
We brought it in for 81 miles at 22 hours and 20 minutes. I turned in my bib, snagged my medal, chopped it up with a couple ballers at the aid station who were still grinding out loops, then sat down in a lawn chair back at camp and stared purposelessly out into the ether. The same tranquility from the starting corral washed over me again in spades.
——
Nothing but pure gratitude. Gratitude became not only imperative, but a natural headspace in this race. Nothing but affinity and respect for everyone who showed up. I felt immersed in the most wholesome, human, ridiculous, faith-restoring, hubris-obliterating, gentle, zen, and idyllic alternate universe for 24 hours. The real world pales in comparison to this.
I now truly understand why people do these things. It makes perfect sense, and the explaination needs zero words. I got my shit rocked real good, in the most soul-enriching fashion, and that’s precisely why I’m doing it again next year.
——

DISCLAIMER: Don't take this too seriously, it's meant to be more of a joke and exaggeration, started almost entirely by the mental image of three hardened criminals sitting in a bar, pondering that they still absolutely need to recruit a Catholic priest and some band guy or their next bank robbery just won't work. No offense intended towards any actual groups, nor to make light of any social issues. Also, I'm aware there's games with actual modernity-appropriate classes, but the absurdity of a nearly 1:1 port is exactly the point here. Finally, note that I play both D&D (various editions) and PF 1E and 2E, so expect a mixture of classes from either and some cherrypicking of interpretations.
FOREWORD: Style of play I'm imagining similar to Shadowrun or Cyberpunk, with a focus on the underworld, teams of specialists hired by fixers for various jobs of dubious legality, or vigilantism or hustling maybe. If one wanted to be extra absurd, it could also involve travelling the world in a camper van and taking on quests, or getting tasked with an important mission by a head of state (this may work better in a fictional modern-day setting instead of our own world). Class names are meant to be professional slang you'd see in that kind of environment, like Shadowrun's Street Samurai for example, thus justifying the existence of the classes themselves. But since it's supposed to be not cyberpunk, but the present, I deliberately tried to pick names that sound like they could be part of normal conversation too.
Magicless doesn't mean classes don't still have their powers and spells, just that they're explained differently, like by drugs or applied psychology or the like. Think a "wizard" (Pundit) casting a "fireball" by mentally calculating the exact angle they need to shoot a gas pipe to cause an explosion.
Without further ado, the...

CLASSES
Militant (Fighter): Skillful weapons specialists and fighting experts who can handle any threat and stare down the barrel of a gun without flinching. Many are (former) soldiers, mercenaries, or private security, less commonly also from a background in law enforcement or violent crime, but anyone with the right abilities can be a Militant.
Thrasher (Barbarian): Tough guys, muscleheads, and sometimes also bullies, who get what they want by utilizing brutality, fear, and a vicious temper. Thrashers are often gang members and thugs, bikers, delinquents, jocks, pro wrestlers, or particularly dedicated powerlifters. Frequently appearing as a part of highly insular social cliques, they are prone to adopting neotribal mindsets, symbols, and practices.
Blackbelt (Monk): Martial arts and/or ascetic masters (not just disciples or regular practitioners) with almost superhuman control over their own body. Despite the name, these adepts of the physical can pursue any martial arts tradition, as well as freestyle street fighting, pro wrestling, self defense courses, special forces training, parcours, extreme sports, and of course practices such as yoga. While some seek enlightenment or health benefits, others hunger to put their skills to the test in a manner only real combat can provide.
Outlander (Ranger): Armed and dangerous people who thrive in the wilderness. Survivalists, hunters, drifters, particularly experienced outdoorsmen, forest rangers, animal trainers, and sometimes preppers or guerillas are all common candidates. Many Outlanders hold strong convictions, in a cowboyish sort of way, and so they are also found among military special forces or police departments, particularly as handlers to service animals.
Jailbird (Rogue): Multi-talented if often dubious individuals, prized especially as infiltration and security specialists. While they needn't be actual criminals, just in possession of the right talents, many still are of a less than legal disposition, and a brief stint in prison can certainly lead to picking up useful new tricks. Common sub-groups include murderers and serial killers, cat burglars and pickpockets, home invaders, carjackers, hackers, scammers and con artists, smugglers of arms/drugs/etc., as well as urban partisans.
Ideological Crusader (Paladin/Antipaladin): Stalwart defenders and enforcers of a given idea of justice, a social code, or an organization, capable of backing their demands with violence if necessary. They are natural authority figures with an extra edge in doggedness stemming from their strong beliefs. The vast majority of Ideological Crusaders originate in law enforcement (particularly riot cops) or sometimes the fire department or military special forces, but some are revolutionaries, armed activists, or members of neighborhood watches or citizen militias. Should they go rogue and their beliefs end up becoming toxic, however, Ideological Crusaders tend to turn into dreaded hatemongers or terrorists.
Special Operative (Inquisitor): The quintessential experts in making problems disappear, Special Operatives achieve (preferably) noble goals using subtle, unorthodox and sometimes questionable means, resolving delicate matters with cunning rather than the Ideological Crusader's brute force. Usually belonging to and trained in special tactics by some kind of organization, most serve(d) in intelligence agencies or commando units, but they may also be detectives in the police department, professional hitmen, or hacktivists and leakers and the like.
Humanitarian (Cleric): Devoted souls who follow a philosophy or faith they believe will help humanity, often trained in a variety of useful medical and mental techniques. Their skills may vary depending on the content of their particular belief system, with some potentially being quite sinister, but overall, Humanitarians are still primarily experts at keeping their team alive with first aid and supporting them in whichever way is necessary. Most have a background as healthcare personell such as doctors, surgeons, and nurses, but there's also plenty of social and charity workers and sometimes therapists to be found.
Additionally, a strong link exists between Humanitarians and religion. While ordinary ministers will rarely just go out to take on legally questionable jobs or vigilante work, some do protect their flock that way, and more still may be trying to save the souls of the underworld's denizens or view themselves as exorcists battling demonic forces. This goes twice so for the recruiters, envoys and missionaries of cults, of which there is an abundance in the underworld.
New Ager (Druid): Masters of the natural world. Using herbs and drugs, New Agers achieve a number of altered states of consciousness, enabling them to excel at various tasks with ease almost as if they could wholly transform themselves. When not doing this, they support their allies with wilderness knowledge, patch them up with "alternative" medicine, or command and train animals. Besides actual New Agers (who can come from any background), the class also frequently attracts environmentalists, naturalists, animal breeders, and natural scientists.
Influencer (Bard): Often glamorous individuals for whom doors swing wide open and ears perk up. Influencers are communications specialists, charmers, and frequently powerful orators and motivational speakers, who also know and dabble in a little bit of everything as a result of their colorful lives. In spite of the name, most members of this class are not youtubers, but rather celebrities of every kind, starlets and media personalities, entertainers and performers, life coaches, as well as journalists and reporters. While the class also contains plenty of artists (not just of the performing but also of the creative arts), their profession alone does not make them members, rather the ability to influence and powerfully motivate others is what counts (and a heaping of fame certainly doesn't hurt either!).
Middleman (Warlock/Witch): Middlemen are, for good and for ill, deeply connected and indebted to a powerful organization or individual, usually in an extremely unequal manner. This so-called sponsor they can call on for favors. Some examples of sponsors include organized crime, cults, megacorporations, or shady political lobbies. What the Middleman may achieve depends on the sponsor in question, but the support is always highly useful, from receiving access to exclusive venues to getting to borrow bleeding edge technology. In turn, however, the sponsor has their own expectations and demands and will sometimes come to collect their due. If the expectations are not fulfilled, support will be cut off, if not far worse.
Besides their main sponsor, Middlemen also collect lesser contacts and knowledge on how to play social institutions and conventions to their advantage. This, for instance, enables them to shield their allies from the law. They make excellent fixers for similar reasons. Anyone who enters a Faustian bargain may become a Middleman, but it is particularly common among entrepreneurs, lawyers, politicians, and similar power players. Membership in the sponsoring organization is not required, but still fairly common, especially as a delegate or representative of sorts.
Pundit (Wizard): Providers of expert knowledge. Ensure their allies always have all necessary information about their surroundings and can devise uniquely ingenious ad-hoc solutions to problems based on their chosen field of study, known theorems, and subjects they have recently looked into. Usually academics and other well-educated types, often with an actual university degree or even a professorship, but some private scholars or hyper-dedicated hobby nerds, too. Many are programmers or scientists (frequently pursuing one of the "big three" fields: biology, chemistry, or physics), researching, inventing, and using technology and other fruits of scientific labor, sometimes even creating things themselves when mechanical skill is not central (i.e. mixing chemicals). However, every field has its ways of dealing with problems, from highly communicative media studies to wealth-multiplying economics, and while scientists are often associated with gadgets, what a Pundit's ad-hoc solution looks like can really vary wildly.
Many interdisciplinary Pundits also exist, but in the first place, all Pundits have mastered research. Therefore, fields of study are more about with what approach and level of difficulty a goal can be accomplished, rather than what the Pundit can or can't do at all (unless it's of an "opposed" field, i.e. a field that fills with the Pundit with dread and horrid memories of their school days).
(NOTE: I've considered a pure Scientist class, but I liked the idea of university humanities professors regularly getting into shootouts too much.)
Technician (ArtificeAlchemist/Inventor): Technology specialists who excel at the hands-on operation, modification, and construction of various types of hardware, in contrast to the more theory-focused and software-based leanings of other classes like the Pundit or Savant (though a Technician can still absolutely learn how to program and hack). Technicians may come from the ranks of engineers graduated from their university with highest honors just as much as humble car mechanics, passionate amateur craftsmen, or even certain construction workers. Besides these, other popular specializations include electricians, driving fanatics, fighter or drone pilots, gunsmiths, saboteurs, and demolitions specialists.
(NOTE: This is essentially a fusion between craftsmen and pilots/drivers. Doesn't necessarily make that much sense to lump them together, but it's really hard to find a role other than dedicated getaway driver to play for a standalone driver class and Shadowrun's Rigger archetype provided some inspiration and a connection point.)
Savant (Sorcerer): Counterparts to the Pundit with similar abilities. Savants appear to possess a natural affinity and passion for the things that fascinate them strong enough to put them on equal footing with academics who gained their skills by more traditional means.
(NOTE: The Savant stereotype doesn't align so well with Sorcerers making for good socialmancers, so maybe these should be INT instead of CHA casters?)
Miracle Worker (Favored Soul/Oracle): Counterparts to the Humanitarian with similar abilities. Zealots, self-proclaimed prophets, and sometimes cult leaders hoping to impress future followers, Miracle Workers make up for the Humanitarian's specialist training with sheer confidence in their own abilities, mystifying language, and oftentimes more than a little bit of madness.
Medicine Man (Spirit Shaman): Counterparts to the New Ager with similar abilities. Achieve their skills less through drugs and herbs and more by "letting the spirits guide them", which is to say, through a combination of religious practices, empathic emotional connections with their environment and unconscious imitation of others, as well as sometimes through culturally inherited or acquired knowledge. May actually have an indigeneous background, or just wish they did.
Adventurer (Swashbuckler): Even in this day and age, there are occasionally people whose life story reads like something straight out of a movie script. Skillful generalists with a lot of panache. For some reason, this class tends to attract archaeologists the most.
Investigator (Investigator): Whether as private eyes, police detectives, or sometimes scientific researchers, investigators do exactly what their name says, getting results with their ability to draw the right conclusions and pursue leads.

TEAM ROLES
A well-balanced team archetypically consists of at least one Muscle, Breacher, Medic, and Egghead.
Muscle / Combat Specialist: Keeps the team safe from danger and if necessary draws it towards themselves. Suitable for: Militants, Thrashers, Blackbelts, Ideological Crusaders, Outlanders, sometimes Technicians or Adventurers.
Breacher / Security Specialist: Bypasses security and gets the team in and out where they're not supposed to be, whether by social infiltration or an old-fashioned break-in. Suitable for: Jailbirds, Special Operatives, Influencers, sometimes Blackbelts, Outlanders, Investigators, or Adventurers.
Medic / Support Specialist: Helps everyone stay alive and keeps them at their best. Suitable for: Humanitarians, Miracle Workers, New Agers, Medicine Men, sometimes Outlanders or Ideological Crusaders.
Egghead / Knowledge Specialist: Solves more intellectual challenges and helps out in numerous ways, often roped into tech/science support even if it's not their specialization. Suitable for: Pundits, Savants, Technicians, sometimes Influencers, Middlemen, or Investigators.
Nerd/Hacker / Tech Specialist: Optional, for when not covered by the Breacher and the Egghead is severely allergic to the natural sciences. Deals with tech. Suitable for: Pundits, Savants, Technicians, sometimes Jailbirds or Special Operatives.
Face / Social Specialist: Optional, for when the Breacher isn't a social butterfly. Represents and oftentimes leads the team and does the talking where required. Suitable for: Influencers, Middlemen, Ideological Crusaders, sometimes Adventurers.
Manager (Earner, Mom, Greaser) / Resource & Public Relations Specialist: Optional, depending on overall team composition and Fixer. May also be split into the three separate roles of Earner, Mom, and Greaser. Earner and Mom are two sides of the same coin, the former managing the team's side-hustles and extra sources of income, as well as purchasing equipment, while the latter takes care of supply and gear maintenance and also of all matters related to hideouts and the team's general needs. The Greaser is the team's networking specialist and often also their lawyer, greasing the right palms and ensuring law enforcement and other factions turn a blind eye to the team's activities. Suitable for: Middlemen are practically born for this, but Jailbirds, Influencers, Technicians, Pundits, and Savants also do well at various aspects of the role.
Eyes & Ears / Research Specialist: Optional, for when it's not the Breacher's (or sometimes the Egghead's) thing. The Eyes & Ears continually gathers intel and gossip and keeps the team abreast of recent events, potential dangers, and new opportunities. Suitable for: Investigators, Jailbirds, Special Operatives, Influencers, sometimes Middlemen.
Wheelman / Driving Specialist: Optional, for when nobody else is a particularly good driver. Primarily the designated and getaway driver, may also take care of and perhaps upgrade the team vehicle. Suitable for: Technicians, Jailbirds, Special Operatives, Ideological Crusaders, Adventurers, sometimes Outlanders.
Deadeye / Sniping Specialist: Optional, for when the Muscle is a Blackbelt, Thrasher, or otherwise close-combat preferring fighter. Does ranged combat, that's it. Suitable for: Outlanders, Militants, Jailbirds, Special Operatives, sometimes Technicians.
Treehugger / Wilderness Specialist: Optional, for when the group heads into the great outdoors for a prolonged period of time. Helps them not die there. Suitable for: Outlanders, New Agers, Medicine Men.
Fixer: Provides the team with jobs from interested parties and may also double as the Manager. Could be a designated part of the team or a freelancer. Suitable for: Any class, but Middlemen are the most common.

And so did redpill, Let's start with blackpill hypothesis, If only I were a chad or if I had a better jawline if only my frame was a bit wider, if only I was a chad, it would be sooo easy.
To some degree blackpill has some proof, you can get attention, but the attention is slim to none, ofc you should be takin care of yourself, but for example. We have an avg woman she puts make-up, then we have avg guy he goes to the gym, guess who wins always the women, you can complain and act like oh no no, but in reality women win, unless you won in dating then u win, but for the most part women win.
Now redpill hypothesis, If only you had x amount of money and x amount of fame, and to some degree it might work, but is it really worth the effort? Think about it, getting that money then realisin ur girl isnt for who you are, but what u can provide. Sad huh?
With the blackpill once again, many guys would be attracted per say woman, not every girl would be attracted to per say guy, avg woman to avg man, avg woman has waaay more dating option/selection, where as a guy you get what u can get.
Now how does blackpill is wrong, here is why it's wrong, cause I'm a chad, I was sculpted by the God himself, I'm so perfect that it no longer is a lie, I have good frame, good height, good face, good hair, good eyebrows, kind eyes, a million dollar smile, in shape, everything u name it I have it.
Do I boast about it? Heeeeeee, no I see no reason to boast about something u didn't achieve, do I get attention? Yes I do, but it's due to my insane social skills, more than looks, ofc looks play an inital role at first, but interesting thing is that u can blow it the second u open ur mouth, where as a chick i wouldn't rlly care that much(unless she was hella rude)
I became chad expecting royal treatment, did I receive it? fuuu yeah son, does it has any meaning in life? yes but also no. Why did I receive it, but I'm disapproving blackpill? cause personality was involved, there was also one guy who got 2 chicks, they were cute and a bit taller than him. He always takes care of himself, but looking at me and looking at him, I'm a God compared to him. He also is dumb a jock, skinny, avg frame, a bit crooked teeth( not too bad) and baby face with stupid eyes. The way I'm talkin about him is bad, but I couldn't believe my eyes that 2 chicks that were cute af, been with this stupid jock.
Then you see a guy like my friend who is fat, his chick is avg lookin, but slim, he fat, like a beaver fat.
How in the world would blackpill explain that? Also I had sooooooo much attention back in my day, when I was funny, heck If I got 1 girl to laugh i got the whole squad interested in me, ah yes the ego ah yes, good thing it's over since I don't need that much attention no more.
There was this chick who approached me, cause I was cute, there was also this chick that almost gave up on her boyfriend, Cause I was "cute" those girls are hoes, no respectable man should date them unless you have a reason and it's not that serious, but seriously expecting your 7/10, 6/10 chick with no make-up to be your girlfriend for-ever and ever? Like seriously you have some masculinity issues, I felt sorry for the guy good thing I have morals and didn't cheat, If I had more balls at that time and no moral compass, I would say hey honey let's go to this mall and fuck.
But yo boy always with righeousnes, as in Bible, I might say here that I'm a God( well i can't say online i can chat online) but we know I'm a mere mortal, and das fine son.
We also have prime example (Elliot Rodger) hatred for women, but also deep desire to connect with said woman. sad he couldn't get that, I'm fortunate to have that, but honestly look at him, good looking stud, with a gym would be a demi-God nice bone structure, good haircuuut, money on point status on point, except some balls and insaneeee charisma, social skills, pua crap, etc.
uh uh black pill ah uh, if I was chad I would, no you wouldn't if Elliot Rodger couldn't get a chick to like him, and he himself admitted many counter-example of avg/below avg guys pullin high caliber women, then Elliot is a delusional cunt or he is a dumb kunt, don't know which one, but I'm guessing both, sad that he killed sad that he was such a pussy, man, I saw this post about some guy seeing Elliot Rodger and thinkin, damn a young kid what a waste. Pathetic life of his, but hey he had some stuff to enjoy for.
Why are women complicated and why blackpill is lying and so is redpill, why can't the world revolve around the truth, I'm tired of these lies people killing themselves, over toxic chronologies, I just wish I've never met bp, and would say that bp is toxic, I have counter-examples, also I have examples where women get attracted to you by your looks, but if u blow ur chances then u blow ur chances, at the end personality triumphs anything, unless u are super short and ugly, but chances are slim to none.
So if anyone read this philosophy, I would say 1 thing and 1 thing only, bp is a lie, so is rp, but u must pick wisely what works and what doesn't work, all i say it get cured from bp that shit will kill you both physically and mentally.
"I'm out" -- xXXxIZeusIxXXx

*** Disclaimer **\*

These are my own thoughts and not intended to be investment advice or start any wars.
Post may contain NOT politically-correct terminology and/or make references to men and women using only biological nomenclature and well-known (statistically accurate) stereotypes
Post is completely devoid of "woke speak" or "woke spoke" I'm not really sure what it's called

Not responsible for possible triggers!
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I've been thinking about this a lot recently and after the "good" but not great numbers yesterday I think I've changed my stance.
If you would have asked me yesterday when we were on that exhilarating ride from +2% overnight to +4% overnight to +4.5% premarket to +7% open market to +8% open market going strong into close I would have strongly argued to trust in Karp.
The bootcamps are clearly working. I know this company has something nobody else can even come close to creating. The camps are ingenious because they seem to be smashing it right now almost like a viral campaign getting the name and message out there without spending money on advertising. Genius! And more demand than they can handle didn't sound too bad!
But... after digesting the results for a bit I've changed my mind and think the time has come to mature and hire a propetraditional sales team. *** Not to say lose our dignity or identity/culture as a company that sticks up for what is RIGHT vs easy or quick... but definitely to look at reality and be a for-profit business.
Companies have sales departments because they are needed and they work - even if you're selling the best product in the world, some people need to be sold. How many employees at Microsoft & Google work in a sales capacity? How many 3rd party certified resellers do they have? TONS because it works!
I believe/hope Karp has come to terms with this as well - he has to either deliver more (and FAST) or they'll have no choice but to implement changes to their "sales culture" and hire traditional sales people.
Sales 101: "People hate to be sold, but they LOVE buying shit"
By not having a strongebigger sales team they're:

Missing out on lots of sales they can't make/close on their own using current strategies or personnel. Sorry to say but nerds are not usually the greatest salesmen. Sales is an art and you need to speak to the buyer in a language they understand - not show them why they're dumb and need your software.
Not able to scale as quickly as needed without standardizing the process. Each deal seems to be some sort of custom design and pricing is not standardized enough - adding time to the sales cycle with additional negotiations - plus there is less oversight into protecting margin on highly complex deals where pricing is too flexible.
Not even beginning to scratch the surface "selling" to companies that may not even know something like this exists (as opposed to convincing someone at your doorstep asking to attend a bootcamp). Nerds are definitely not good at cold calling...this sales division would require salesmen to engage the traditional "wine and dine, playing golf" type salesman which Karp so despises.
Missing out of seasoned salesperson network reach. If they would hire a sales director from Meta and one from somewhere like Allstate Insurance how many deals do you think they could bring in with their existing contacts only just the first week? They wouldn't be breaking any non-competes as PLTR doesn't sell a product offered by anyone on the planet.

Karp realizes he needs change this. ...But can't stand to admit it. ...But probably has to. ...But makes his physically ill thinking about interacting with the Neanderthals known as salesmen. ...But knows its in everyone's best interest and will make the world a better place faster and make all us longs millionaires much quicker.
I think that's why he seemed irritated on the call when talking about the underperformance of the current sales team. He so badly wants his way to work but he realizes long-term he needs to have both boot camps and good looking, confident, sociopathic ex-jock salesmen to come in and just crush it closing deal after deal by any means necessary - even if it means bringing strippers to the golf course and ordering scotch and eating steak.
Keep an eye out for an aggressive expansion or shakeups on the sales side of the business it could be significant (and I would argue a great thing to see).
Also I wouldn't mind applying for a job where I get to golf, eat steak, and sell one of the best products on the planet and get shit tons of stock options and massive bonus checks.
If you're reading this, Karp, please reach out to me. I guarantee I can get you 5 new contracts a month no problem.

I (16m) have Been bullied since I can remember, physically and mentally. So anyways fast forward to freshmen year I started to develop crushes on the guys that bully me. The type of guys that bully me are like jocks and they play sports etc. I just cannot stop thinking about them. Like they’ll have a completely disgusting personality but then I’ll day dream that they have the most lovable personality. I don’t know. It happens with all the guys that make fun of me and I don’t know what to do. I mean it’s not like I can’t distinguish reality from my daydreams it’s just that my daydreams are so vivid and real it’s scary. I mean I still confront my bullies and stuff but I feel so bad because it feels like I’m hurting them even though they hurt me first. I also have a tendency to watch them when they are with their friends etc to see how that act when I’m not in the picture etc. anyways please help
Tdlr: I can’t stop having vivid love dreams of my bullies 😅

This definitely isn’t my most cringy memory, but it’s one I have been thinking about a lot.
When I was in high school, my physics teacher gave out an assignment to write a short story incorporating things we learned. I really liked writing back then, so I wrote a really bad generic high school horror story about some kids in hs having to use physics to escape a monster that attacked their school. There were a lot of characters and I did not feel like giving them names, so I just called them by their archetype, like jock, nerd, lover girl and lover boy. The assignment called for at least a page or so, but I ended up writing around eight pages so I could fit all the physics stuff in (I was also an overachiever).
So the class before it was due, the teacher let us know that we were going to present the stories in front of the class. This would have been bad for most people, but I had a really obvious fear of public speaking. I talked quietly normally, but any time I talked in front of a group I would involuntarily speak quieter and faster, stutter and slur my words, and have issues regulating my breathing. Now, I had been with most of these kids since elementary and middle school, so they already knew about this and weren’t the real issue (they were also all really nice people for the most part). I tried shortening my story before the next class, but really did not do much.
Anyways, the presentation day came, and other people’s stories were really short and pretty much just had a character explain physics to another character or the reader, which I wish I realized I could have done. But then it was my turn. I was really nervous about reading a story I wrote, especially because I knew it was a bad story. I got through almost a page, being asked to restart the story but louder a few times, before the teacher asked if I wanted to stop. I thought he meant I wouldn’t have to present and he would just grade my story by itself from the paper I turned in. It made sense to me because of how long it was, and I thought he wanted to go to the next story. But that was not it. He called up a boy he was always yelling at for talking during class and handed him my paper to read. I felt really bad for him, but also embarrassed to need someone else to read my paper. Then once he started reading more, some kids started making guesses as to who the characters in the story were meant to be from our class. T none of the student characters were based off of real people, only archetypes. The teacher character was, but I was already calling that character by the teacher’s name, so it was not meant to be a secret or anything. I was annoyed with him constantly using Schrödinger’s cat in his physics examples for no reason, where the cat would get hurt, so the ending of the story I wrote had alien cats come and shove the teacher in a box and take him away to use in their experiments. However, that part was never read because class ended on page seven.
Sorry if this was hard or confusing to read, I am really bad at writing things out.

Imagine you are two people in one. Person #1 is essentially addicted to a type of person you want to have sex with..let's just pick college jock for example. This person #1 is the addict who, when having laser-focused sex, releases all of the dopamine at once in your brain. Maybe it's a lusty bath house hookup, maybe it's a date that becomes a hookup, but person #1 is like a thirsty addict. They chase a fantasy and fantasy sex all the time.
Person #2 though, is moreso the real you. This is the relationship you. Person #2 wants a partner you can laugh with, travel with, cuddle with, and develop something sensitive and meaningful.
So this is where I am at.. trying to sort this all out. In my youth when my hormones were hot and heavy, I was able to both step into the fantasy lusty sex with my partner, and step out and be in the relationship. As an older person, I can't really seem to do this anymore.
So what is beginning to happen is I am seeking people who make me laugh and are good guys to cuddle and be with, but the sex is less intense and not addictive and more like a massage. It's like Person 2 is the main version of me now that I am older which is great, but there is still this fantasy ghost of Person 1 hanging around.
It would be like, if I was in a great relationship, with ok sex, and a tiny part of me still lusted after a very specific type of guy (Let's say 20's skater guy or College guy-next-door or Track star for example) the trick is how to find my place between these too?
Most if not all of the successful relationships I have seen both people in the relationship don't have this strong sense of [person 1] as I do, it's like they are not shallow, more open minded and kind of fit into an 'any sex is good sex' mentality.
If there was a TLDR, it would be like, how do I have a relationship with an older person my age (50's) but want sex with someone half my age? It's the conflict of lust vs relationship and understanding this weird addiction in my head that I need to overcome if I am going to be successful in any relationship. I need to transition from hot lusty physically addictive hormonal sex to generalized average massage sex.
Hopefully some of you faced this and have ways to break the addiction of person #1 so you can have healthy relationships.

SYNOPSIS: (~1400 words)
You discover that your bully has a Twitch DJ stream playing goth music, and confront her at school. She is dismissive and sarcastic until you force her to answer the question: why does she bully you? Her answer(s) set up a conversation that leads to a sort of truce-making over shared war stories, and the script ends with the possibility that the two of you could become friends (or more).
TERMS:

You can fill, post, and monetize freely. Just credit me (as u/RHfactoral) and if your fill is behind a paywall, let me download a copy for myself.
You are free to make cosmetic/surface modifications (name changes, minor wording choices for the sake of flow, ad libs), as long as they don't drastically affect the plotline and overall atmosphere. Genderflipping is also welcome.
DM me on Reddit if you'd like to make more drastic changes
You are not free to add anything hateful/bigoted/xenophobic to this script.
SFX are suggestions, not rules. I include them mainly to help indicate things like physical actions or scene/location transitions, but you are free to use them or not at your discretion.
The same goes for music – I'll provide links to royalty-free/free-use selections if I suggest some kind of music, but it's never a requirement.
Constructive criticism is always welcome.

KEY to stage directions
[Square brackets and SFX: indicate sound effects and/or the action they're meant to depict]
(Parentheses indicate tonal or other such cues for the VA)
Italics indicate a word to be emphasized
Ellipses (...) indicate a pause for emphasis. A (beat) is a slightly longer pause than that. Space between paragraphs indicates a pause for the listener's "dialogue" (or a moment of quiet between listener and speaker)
MUSIC SUGGESTION:
The YouTube channel Aim To Head has a playlist full of royalty-free music (free-to-use with credit given) that would suit the first segment of the script. I personally like the "Instinct" beat (about 50 seconds in) for this one. (Full terms of use and a download link are in the video’s description.)
– BEGIN –
[SFX: Music in background]
Okay, chat. Poll's up. Who are we raiding?
forstar90, I'm not raiding someone huge like that. Maybe I'm overthinking it, but I would feel like I'm being, like, aggressively self-promoting.
I am not that aggressive, rabbitogre. What are you talking about?
(laughs) I am the least intimidating person I know, rabbitogre.
Alright. We're raiding Renfield & Mina. There's the raid quote in the chat, and…I'll see you next time, for darksynth Saturday. Goodnight!
[SFX: music fades out]
[SFX: the sounds of a school hallway fade in, establishing the location over a few beats]
Oh. Hey, nerd. Do you want something?
What could we possibly need to talk about?
What is with you today, nerd? You're getting downright pushy.
Yeah, I know you have a name. I don't care. Nerd covers the bases, doesn't it?
Oh, I'm sure there's so much more to you, blahblahblah. Get to the point.
Rabbit…ogre?
[SFX: door opening]
(furious, panicky) Get your ass in here before someone sees us.
[SFX: door closing]
How. The. Hell. Did. You. Find. Out?
You listen to goth music? You?
I don't know. Anime theme music, maybe. Weeb stuff.
I don't know if I believe you. Name three…Nine Inch Nails songs.
Okay. That's kind of an easy one, though.
Oooh, now there's one you don't hear often.
"With-a teeth-a." (chuckles) I'm impressed….rabbit.
I'm not calling you "ogre." You get to be "rabbit." Take the blessing.
Fine. Rabbitogre. Happy?
So what is it you want from me? You want me to stop bullying you? Fine.
No? So you don't care if I keep bullying you? Maybe you like…it…EW. EW. EW. NO. NO. NO.
Oh, don't turn your nose up at me, sweetie. You'd be lucky to have me put a collar on you, and you know it.
Whatever. Just spit it out. What do you want? Blackmail? Money? Are you going to try to make me go on a date with you?
No? Well, that's good. That would be pathetic.
You have more pride than that? Coulda fooled me….
Do. Not. Tell. Me. To. Shut. Up. Just because you know about my DJ gig doesn't mean you get to be all…
I'm. Not. Yelling. I'm. Being. Emphatic.
Look, rabbitogre, I know you want something. Will you just tell me what it is?
Go on. What do you want me to tell you?
Speak up. I can't hear you.
Why do I bully you? That's what you want to know?
Because I feel like it. You invite abuse. I'm just RSVP'ing.
Keep your voice down! Are you trying to get us caught? What are you thinking?
You really are serious, aren't you? You want, like, some kind of soul-baring confession, where I tell you my sad story, learn the error of my ways, and become your dommy tsundere goth mommy girlfriend or something? Is that it?
Yes, I know what a tsundere is. Stay on topic, will ya?
Well, I'm afraid you're going to be disappointed. My parents? Sorry. No high drama here; they just don't give a shit what I do. What they don't want me to do, that's a different story, but….
No. God, no, they'd freak if they knew I was doing DJ sets on Twitch. And goth music….oh, that'd really drive them nuts.
They don't care if I go over to a friend's house twice a week, though, or even more, sometimes. They don't call her parents to see if I'm really there….which, actually, I am. That studio setup is in her family's basement.
They know I'm there, so they don't care what I'm doing. As long as I don't draw attention to myself, they leave me alone. And I'm just fine with that.
Oh, if they found out, I'm sure they'd take my phone, my computer….everything they could lay hands on. Which is why I leave my DJ deck in the studio now. My friend's parents have agreed not to rat me out. And I keep enough of a low profile that I don't have to worry about what happens at school.
Well, you're the only one I bully, and that's because I know you aren't going to make waves and draw attention to me. (sarcastically) Correction: I thought I knew. Obviously, I underestimated you. My bad.
Yes, rabbitogre, you are the only one. Feel special yet?
Like I said: You were easy to abuse. You're weird and awkward and obsessive. And you practically grovel – or used to, anyway – when I come around to put you through a little more hell.
Because…school comes easy for you. The jocks might try to bully you every now and again, but somehow, you've managed to disarm them. You can enjoy the things you like without having to worry about it. Anybody who talks shit to you, you just let it roll right off. You don't even worry about college; the scholarships are already pouring in, aren't they?
Yeah, I know you don't have any friends. But the people I hang out with? Once I'm out of here, I will probably never see most of them ever again. Even they don't know about my streams, except Jen. It’s her basement I stream from.
Because I can at least halfway talk to the people in chat. Not the people around here.
Yeah. We are alike, like that. I guess.
Don't get too happy about it, though. That's not enough to make me like you, much less….
(stifles laughter) Touche, rabbitogre. That's genuinely funny. Cruel, but funny. Even I have to laugh.
(speaker's tone starts to get gentler from here onward) I never knew you had that in you. I can respect that.
Yeah, I guess that's something else we have in common.
Well, if we're going to keep exploring that, it's your turn to share: What are your parents like? 'Coz I'm willing to bet yours care a little bit more than mine.
Benign neglect? Okay. But: "benign."
Yeah, I remember your sister. Straight from the popular-girl template, right down to the blonde hair and the class valedictorian award. So different from you that people didn't believe you were related at first.
(stifles laughter, somewhat shocked) Jesus Christ, that's dark.
No, I get that you don't wish her harm, but calling her a boilerplate true-crime victim…goddamn, sunshine. I’m stealing that one.
Yeah. That would be a tough shadow to live in. I have a cousin…don't get me started.
So…You've actually got me kind of curious, now. What did you think of the stream? I noticed you were there for most of it.
It's a memorable username, I think. I don't know. I just…noticed it, you know?
Thank you. That's…unexpectedly kind of you. I've been working on my mixing skills for a while now, but I’m still learning. I can’t practice at home the way I’d like to.
The clothes? It's like I told you: I have to stay under the radar. I can't dress like that anywhere else.
Oh, god, yes. Wearing last night's dress to school wouldn't put me on the radar, it'd put me on the damn Jumbotron.
You know, I think that's the first time I've heard you laugh.
Okay, I have another question. Now that you know about all this..
(Sighs, relieved). Thank you. I appreciate that.
The deal? What deal?
Oh. I guess I did answer your question, huh?
You know, you're really not the kind of person I thought you were.
I…really am sorry.
Yeah. There really is more to you than I gave you credit for.
Yeah. I love my community. And you seemed to fit right in with everyone last night.
You should join my Discord server. We have even more fun there.
(tentatively, but not unkindly so) I mean it. Come hang out with us.
Yeah, I guess that includes me. I'm kinda part of the deal, y'know?
(Playfully indignant) I might be tolerable, huh?
What time is it? We've been chit-chatting a lot longer than I was expecting.
Well, damn. It didn't seem like that long. But I have to go. If I'm not back home on time…
I don't usually see you around much on Fridays, but…maybe I'll see you in chat on Saturday?
You have a request? Ummm…
Huh. I don't know that one. (beat) Synthwave anime covers?
No, you know what? I will check that out. DM me a link on the Discord, though, in case I forget.
That's what I said, niveK.
You know. Ogre, from Skinny Puppy?
Seriously? Okay. I'm giving you a homework assignment: Listen to "Too Dark Park." You'll thank me.
[SFX: door handle clicks]
Sometime, you're going to have to tell me how you came up with "rabbitogre" for a handle. .
[SFX: door opens onto murmuring hallway]
(puts on a faux-menacing tone) I mean it.
(further away) Hey, Jen. (beat) You're not funny.
[SFX: fade out]

Let me start saying I'm not suicidal. I have a daughter I love very much. A husband. A large family that support me and love me.
Thing is a couple of years ago I got into an accident.
I used to ride my bike to work. I was very active and liked to work out, I was triying to loose extra weight I gained from my pregnancy and biking was an extra easy, fun and effective way to do so and to have healthier lifestyle. It was sunday, early in the morning. It was one of those mornings that you want to stay in bed but I had work, there was somthing in the back of my head telling me to no go. I was about to ask my husband to drive me to work but he was asleep and I backed. Let him and my girl sleeping and left, even when I was closing my door I felt like not going . Few blocks away I was hit by a drunk driver. It was all so fast but at the same time I was seeing and thinking in slow motion. I was crussing an intersection I had the green light checked I was clear both ways and crossed. The car came of nowhere. I saw him I knew I had seconds before I got hit. I knew there was not enough time to do anything just covered my head with both arms, I guess it was a good thing because my right arm (the side I was hit) ended with 4 different fratures. My head and spine were fine but I had a total of 10 fractures on my body.
I went to different surgeries and got fixed. I jocked I was half a robot now.
I always kept my spirit up. I tried to be independent. Do things for myself, ask for as little help as possible. However nothing prepared me for the afterwards. After the surgeries and physiotherapy the pain never left me.
I've been living for two years with chronic, agonizing pain.
I try to live my life as normal. Play with daughter went back to biking. But the pain. Pain. Is. Always. There.
Sometimes I had to lift my daughter or open a jar and I have to keep myself from crying because normal things, normal life is pain for me now.
Sometimes walking just walking around the house is too painful. But I never stop. I always thought I could conquer the pain. Thats why Im not on heavy stuff. I only take painkillers when the pain is so bad I physically can't move.
But I'm tired now. Feel like living like this isn't worth it. Everyday of my life is struggle. My whole body feels like screaming all the time. And I have to stop working out. Im not able to run again. I'm not able to live a normal life without suffering this, in silent pretending this is life. That normal life is pain. Be resilent they say.
So as much as I love my family I wish I could be euthanized and spare me from this misery I call now life.
I feel so bad. Selfish. How could I be so selfish to my daughter, to my husband, be left to raise a girl by himself. To my parents. To my siblings.
But if euthanazing was and option I would take it. Take some heavy drugs to enjoy one last vacation with my family and then be put to sleep and finally feel pain no more.

This world is for a low-magic fantasy novel. I don't have much of a plot yet; basically it's three teenagers wandering around and learning about the world. I think two of them turn into lore-nerds and start collecting stories like the brothers Grimm.
Out of laziness, the continent where the story takes place is mostly based on USA climates. (If I don't ask a map-nerd to make my map, it will probably annoy some map-nerds.) I'm using modern agriculture data, so they have peanuts and rice growing in the same general region, another region will likely have apples and potatoes. Trade is mostly along horse-drawn canal routes. I don't really have fantasy creatures, though there's the occasional oddball like velociraptors, a few things being typically more intelligent than their Earth-equivalents, and furry elephants the size of a small horse.
Also the technology development (Compared to Earth) is throttled in some cases due to inventors being more concerned with safety. Notably they never got gunpowder-based weapons out of the prototype stage because they were trying to keep the stuff away from the "hold my beer" types and the rest tended to give up.
(My other thing about gun-invention being stalled is that I have a thing for fighting with tools instead of proper weapons, so I decided that "wars" were usually limited to professional mercenaries and properly arming the peasants was a waste even if they did get involved. However, I'm shifting my "royalty" to more of "a guy who managed to get enough thugs together to run a protection racket on nearby communities." Either way, they're not interested in letting it get too bloody. Also mages are honor-bound to either not get involved in conflicts or make everyone regret it.)
I'm waiting on the plot to nail down my magic system, but it is very limited in what it could do. (Also even if something is possible, the mage with MC probably doesn't know how to do it.) Cone of fire is possible, but it requires setting up a portal to a fuel-source. Transmutation is limited to stuff like turning a wineskin full of water into a wineskin full of flammable gas. Magic is very difficult to learn, so many people can't even activate artifacts; even a mage might prefer to carry some sort of lighter rather than using magic to light a candle. (Portals are really expensive to use in order to keep the canals relevant.)
I also wanted to make technological progress relevant. Even if someone could spare the time to try learning magic, the chances of them washing-out means that it might not be worth it. (Also there's the rare case of being completely incapable.) Many mages had parents that could afford the risk or they were born with a physical disability that meant that being sent to someplace with proper schools still increased their prospects over staying someplace where most of the jobs are still physical.
The area with a Mississippi climate developed water-powered mills and cotton is cheap enough to use for grain-sacks. Steam power is still in its infancy due to how donkeys still blow-up. I'm planning for there to be some traveling-around, mostly on the canals.
My MC starts in the Michigan climate and the local technology is still more equivalent to Colonial America despite not being colonial. (I'm using Townsends Youtube channel for inspiration. Also because my history classes always seemed focused on the frontiers, I feel like the people I was learning about were always behind the times and living in a simpler way than people who didn't push west.) Any cotton sacks that make it that far are kept as grain-sacks or used to make mattresses because they're too beat-up from reuse for clothing.
MC's town is far-enough away from the canal system that their main trades are in raw materials rather than making finished goods. I'm thinking logging, grazing animals, or they're an iron plantation. The inciting incident is that a freak snow-storm forces him to hide in a haystack (inspired by Zlateh the Goat but also something from an Ingalls-Wilder book about people who died in spring because they weren't dressed for it). He gets frostbite just bad enough that he can't do the task he was raised for; the rest of the apprentices are unwilling to shuffle-around even if there is something he's capable of. A lot of it is pain, but he's also lost some function that will eventually heal with time and physical therapy.
I'm thinking that there's someone in town whose living is gathering magical ingredients; MC was able to take the day off to escort him because that person is getting old and that's why he was caught away. (Old person needed him to carry the tools and a stool because he couldn't crouch anymore?) The person dies, but also wouldn't have been allowed to teach it to MC because of rules. The best thing that the magic system could do for MC is for him to learn a spell to keep his hands warm. It's not the sort of place that would usually attract a full mage.
Places without mages need one to periodically visit. One problem they need to check for is that rarely a child will be born with the potential to start doing magic spontaneously instead of being trained, and the mages want to find them before that happens. MC is willing to become the mage's indentured servant when he visits in exchange for training.
I would like some help in deciding what MC was apprenticed for. Even if he's not doing the main industry of the village, he could be doing a support-task like working in the dairy. Fiddler on the Roof happened to be on TV and I was looking to see what possibilities there were; hide-scraping caught my eye. Gender-roles aren't as strict in my world, but men and women typically gravitate towards different jobs. (As an aside, clothing is also less gendered. Women can wear pants and men in less-physical jobs might wear a dress that is cut for their shape. About the only things that are gendered are things like breast-harnesses and jock-straps.)

Physical jock

Aprile Crew/Family Theory : Frenemies-(Yes, ALL OF TONY ENEMIES CALL HIM ANTHONY)

Gerth, Deadman driving