Summer Break SMP: Your Ultimate Minecraft Survival Adventure
Welcome to Summer Break SMP, a dynamic and vibrant Minecraft server where creativity meets adventure in the perfect balance of building, grinding, and socializing. Whether you’re a seasoned player or a newcomer looking for a welcoming community, Summer Break SMP offers a rich and engaging survival multiplayer (SMP) experience that will keep you hooked from day one.
Server Overview
Summer Break SMP is a survival multiplayer server designed to offer players a well-rounded Minecraft experience. Our server is tailored for those who enjoy the fundamental aspects of survival gameplay—building magnificent structures, grinding for resources, and forming lasting connections with other players.
Key Features
Building Paradise:
Creative Freedom: Build anything your heart desires, from sprawling cities and cozy villages to intricate redstone contraptions and breathtaking landscapes.
Collaborative Projects: Join forces with fellow players on large-scale builds or community projects, adding a cooperative element to your building endeavors.
Regular Build Competitions: Participate in themed building competitions to showcase your skills and earn unique rewards.
Community and socializing:
Friendly Community: Connect with a diverse group of players who share your passion for Minecraft. Our community is welcoming, inclusive, and always ready to help out.
Events and Activities: Engage in regular events such as PvP tournaments, treasure hunts, and seasonal festivities that bring the community together.
Voice and Text Chat: Stay connected with fellow players through our Discord server, where you can chat, plan builds, and form lasting friendships.
Server Management and Quality of Life:
Active Moderation: Our team of dedicated moderators ensures a safe and enjoyable environment for all players by enforcing server rules and handling any issues promptly.
Lag-Free Experience: We prioritize server performance to provide a smooth and lag-free gameplay experience, even during peak times.
Backups and Security: Regular backups and security measures are in place to protect your progress and creations.
In conclusion,
Summer Break SMP is more than just a Minecraft server; it’s a community where you can unleash your creativity, grind for resources, and make new friends. Whether you’re constructing a towering skyscraper, exploring the vast landscapes, or simply hanging out with other players, every moment on Summer Break SMP is an opportunity for adventure and fun.
Join us today and make your summer break unforgettable in the world of Minecraft!
Application Form- https://forms.gle/Zk9bccXfhS7SNt636

"You gotta know that there's an art to it, Ezra," Hitch said, cutting another piece of duct tape.
The sleeves of his weather-beaten coat were shoved all the way up his arms, to stop the fabric from falling over his knuckles while he was working, and goosebumps lined his skin. He was strapping a rubber chicken to the back of his truck, over the lens of the shattered backup camera, with the legs pointing down so that they hung a couple inches above the ground. There were dents in the hood from the crash last week, and scratches along the door from scraping into a curb. The chicken, hopefully, would keep him from breaking anything else.
"You can't go cheap," Hitch said. "The cheap rubber chickens only make noise when pressure lets go. That's no good. As soon as I back up into something, I want this chicken to be screaming like it’s in the depths of hell."
“Sure thing,” I said in a monotone, leaning against the side of the truck.
There were scrambled electronic parts piled in the back of the truck, the innards of a radio, a broken computer, tangled wires, a couple loose pairs of earbuds. He found the parts in alleyways or bummed them off his friends for a couple bucks or stole them from the vacation homes that were left empty for most of the year. Then he sold them for a profit at the scrapyard. Hitch had bounced between minimum-wage jobs for a while after high school, spending a couple months as a bagger at the grocery store or as a seasonal worker at the farm two hours down the highway. He'd never stuck with it. At the very least, the scrapyard got him enough money to eat and occasionally spend a night in a motel when he got tired of sleeping in his car.
Hitch pressed the last piece of tape in place and grinned up at me. "I've got something for you, duck."
The nickname came from when I’d broken my leg as a child and waddled around in a cast until it was healed. I hated it with a burning passion, and I glared at Hitch with the ease of twenty-one years of practice. He had a duck tattoo at the base of his thumb that he’d gotten in a back-alley shop as a teenager. He said that he’d gotten it to remind him of me, and the fact that I hated the nickname was just a bonus. It was shaky-lined, with an uneven face, but he loved it anyway.
The handle stuck when Hitch tried to open the door, a consequence of the rust collecting in the crevices of the car and running down the sides like blood from a cut. The car groaned when the door finally popped open, a metal against metal screech that had me flinching away. Hitch dug through the cluttered fast food containers in the passenger-side footwell, eventually coming up with a crinkly paper bag. He waved away the flies buzzing around the opening of the bag and held it out to me.
The last time Hitch had brought me food, I’d gotten food poisoning because he’d left it out in the midday sun for two days. The donut was squished slightly, and the icing was stuck to the bag. I still ate it, grimacing at the harsh citrus flavor. Taking Hitch’s food was an instinct engraved from the days when Dad had given us a can of kidney beans for dinner and Hitch had drank the juice, leaving the beans for me.
I rarely went hungry anymore, three mostly square meals a day and granola in my pockets just in case, but habits didn’t die easy.
These days, Hitch only brought me food when he wanted my help, like when he saw a place he wanted to hit but was worried about doing it alone.
I got in the car, like I always did.
We drove past the cluster of seafood-themed restaurants with chipped paint decks, the beachfront park where there were always shifty-eyed men sitting under the slide, the single room library where all the books had been water damaged in the flood last year. The change was quick as we drove across Main Street, heading closer to the beach. The roads were freshly paved, the concrete a smooth black except where the sun had already started to pick away at it. The three-story homes lining the sides of the street were crouched on elegant stilts, with space underneath for a car or three. Most of the garages were empty, with the lights off and curtains drawn in the house. Come summer, the streets would be swarming with tourists and vacationers, but until then, most of the buildings nearest to the beach were unoccupied.
Hitch stopped as the sun started to go down at a house that was leaning precariously out towards the beach, tilted ever so slightly, the edge of its foundation buried in the shifting sand of the beach. It certainly looked deserted, with an overgrown yard and blue paint peeling off the door in sheets.
Hitch took his hammer out of the backseat, hoisting it over his shoulder. It was two feet of solid metal with rags wrapped around the head to muffle the sound of the hits. Hitch squared up, bending his knees and holding the hammer like a baseball bat. Before he could swing, though, the door creaked open on its own, the hinges squeaking. The house beyond was dark enough that I could only make out general shapes, glimpsing the curve of a sofa to the left, what was maybe the shimmer of a chandelier on the other side.
Hitch lowered his hammer, looking vaguely disappointed that he didn’t get to use it. “That’s…weird as hell.”
“Maybe the deadbolt broke, maybe they forgot to lock it, it doesn’t matter,” I hissed, checking our surroundings for other people again. “Just hurry up and get inside before someone calls the cops.”
Hitch flicked the lightswitch on the wall, and the lights flickered on. They were dim, buzzing audibly and blinking off occasionally. The walls were plastered with contrasting swatches of wallpaper and splattered with random colors. There was neon orange behind the dining table, a galaxy swirl in the kitchen, and on the ceiling there was a repeating floral pattern covered in nametag stickers. Each of the stickers was filled out with The Erlking. Chandeliers hung in every room, three or four for each, and rubber ducks sat on every table. A miniature carousel sat in the corner along with a towering model rocket.
Sand was heaped on every surface, at least a couple inches everywhere. It was piled in the corners and stuck to the walls, and it covered the floor in a thick blanket. Our hesitant steps into the house left footprints clearly outlined in the sand.
Hitch took a cursory look around and headed immediately for the TV mounted on the wall. “Look out the windows and tell me if anyone is coming.”
I shook the sand out of the blinds and pulled them open, then had to brush sand off of the window before I could see anything.
Hitch was quick, practiced at finding and appropriating the things that were worth taking. He came back to me with an armful of electronics and chandeliers, dumping it at my feet before turning to head deeper into the house again.
There was a thump, somewhere upstairs, and then footsteps, slow and deliberate. Hitch froze at the threshold of the room, then ran for the door with me just ahead of him, sand flying out from under our feet.
My hand was almost brushing the doorknob, close enough that I could see the light from the streetlamp outside streaming in through the cracks in the door. My fingers touched the wood and it gave under my touch, becoming malleable and warm. I yelped, stumbling backwards, and the door started to melt. The paint ran down in thick drops, pooling at the bottom of the door, and the wood warped like metal being welded. The soft edges of the door ran into the walls until there was no sign of an exit ever being there.
“Well, well, well,” said a cultured voice with just an edge of snooty elitism. “What do we have here?”
The man was well over eight feet tall, with long black hair covering his eyes. He was wearing a yellow raincoat with holes cut out of the hood to accommodate the deer antlers jutting upwards from his head. There was sand settled on his shoulders and hovering around his head like a halo.
“Who the fuck are you?” Hitch said, inching towards a window.
He smiled, just a little bit, and his teeth shone in the dim light. “I am the Erlking.”
Hitch nodded, and seemed about to respond. I grabbed him by the hand and pulled him towards the window. I could feel sand in the wind roaring against my back as the Erlking growled in anger, the grains scraping harshly against my cheeks.
We were almost to the window when Hitch was ripped away from me, and I came to a startled halt. The sand had formed long grasping arms that pressed Hitch against the floral wallpaper. His wrists were held tight, and as I watched, a sandy hand wrapped around his mouth and forced its way between his teeth. He gagged, and sand trickled out of the corners of his mouth.
The Erlking strolled towards him, not seeming to be in any sort of rush. “You know, I’m not very fond of your yapping.”
He made an idle gesture and the sand wrapped around my ankles, tethering me in place.
“I yap all the time,” Hitch said. “Three-time olympic yapper, that’s me. Best to just let me go now and save yourself some trouble.”
The Erlking tapped a manicured nail against Hitch’s mouth, hard enough to hurt, judging by the way he flinched away. “But why would I ever let you go when I’ve gone to this much trouble to catch you and your sister? It’s so hard, these days, to find people that no one will miss.”
Hitch struggled against the sand, trying to escape and failing. “What do you want with us, then? You just said it, we’re nobody.”
“I’m fae, dear one,” the Erlking said. “I get my power from my followers. And I think that you two will make lovely additions to my flock.”

He flicked Hitch's nose and Hitch gasped. Feathers started to form on his arms, popping out from under his skin in a spray of blood.
Hitch pushed off the wall, using his bound hands as a fulcrum, and his knees crashed into the Erlking’s stomach. The Erlking fell backwards, wheezing, and the sand around my ankles loosened.
Hitch made desperate eye contact with me as feathers shot up his neck and jerked his head towards the window. The message was obvious. Run.
The last thing I saw before crashing out the window and into freedom was Hitch’s body twisting, his arms wrenching into wings and feathers covering every inch of his skin. By the time I landed on the concrete outside, he was a small black bird, held tightly in the Erlking’s hands. The whole building was sinking into the ground, burnished-gold sand piling up over top and streaming from the windows.
Thirty years later, I saw Sam’s Supernatural Consultation and Neutralization written in neat, looping handwriting on a piece of paper taped to the door. The tape was peeling at the corners and the paper was yellowed with age, but there was obviously care put into the sign, in its perfectly centered text and looping floral designs drawn over the edges in gold marker.
I knocked, hesitantly, drawing my woolen coat closer around my shoulders. I’d bought it as a fiftieth birthday gift for myself, and I took comfort in the heavy weight of it over my shoulders.
“Coming!” someone called from within the depths of the office.
There were a couple crashes, and the sound of paper shuffling. Eventually, the door was opened by a young woman with ketchup stains on her shirt and pencils stuck through her hair.
“Hi, I’m Sam, I specialize in supernatural consultation and hunting, how may I help you today?” Sam said, customer-service pep in her voice. She stood in the doorway, solidly blocking entry into the office.
“My name is Ezra, I’m for a consultation. I emailed you but you didn’t respond?” I shifted in place, suddenly feeling awkward.
“Oh! Yeah, I lost the password for the email ages ago. Sorry for the bad welcome, I get lots of people thinking I’m crazy or pulling a prank and harassing me.”
She ushered me into the office, clearing papers off one of the chairs to make room for me to sit down. There was a collection of swords along one wall, all of them polished to perfection, several with deep knicks in the metal which indicated that they’d been used heavily.
“So what can I help you with?” Sam asked again, more sincere this time.
“Thirty years ago, my brother was turned into a bird,” I started. I’d told this story so many times that it barely felt ridiculous to say anymore. I was used to the disbelieving looks, the careful pity. But Sam just nodded along, face open and welcoming.
“I’ve almost given up on finding him, at this point,” I said. “But I saw your ad in the newspaper, and…here I am, I suppose.”
“Here you are,” Sam echoed, smiling. She pulled one of the pencils out of her hair and took a bit of paperwork off of one of her stacks, turning it over so that the blank side sat neatly in front of her. “Tell me everything.”
I told Sam everything, and she wrote it all down, pencil scratching along the paper.
The last part of the story was always the hardest to tell. “I left him there. I ran and I didn’t look back.”
I had been to dozens of detectives and investigators over the years, once the police had dropped Hitch’s case. I’d been to professional offices with smartly-dressed secretaries and met scraggly men in coffee shops. All of them had given me the same look, pity and annoyance all mixed up into a humor-the-crazy-lady soup. Sam, though, just seemed thoughtful.
Sam leaned forward and put a hand over mine, carefully, like she thought that I would pull away. “Sometimes you have to leave people behind.”
I tightened her hold on Sam’s hand and drew it towards me, like I could make Sam listen if only I squeezed tight enough. “But that’s why I’m here. I don’t want to leave him behind.”
“Okay then. I’ll do my best to help you.” Sam agreed, finally. Then she paused, and said softly, “You know…I think I met your brother once. He might have saved my life. He’s certainly why I started in this business.”
“Really? What happened?” I asked.
This is the story that Sam told me, related to the best of my abilities:
It was a new moon, so the only illumination came from the stars gazing idly down and distant porch lights shining across the scraggly brush of the dunes. Sam’s neighbors were decent people who cared about baby turtles, so the lights were a low, unobtrusive red, and the ocean sloshed like blood. Sam walked on the beach almost every night, drawing back the gauzy pink curtains and clambering out her bedroom window. She didn’t often bother to be quiet; her mama worked the late shift and came home exhausted. As long as Sam got home before the sun, her mama would never find out that she paced the shoreline and dreamed of inhaling sand until her lungs became their own beach.
The sky was lightening. The sun would come up soon, and that meant Sam’s time on the beach was over. She needed to get back to her real life, go to her fifth grade class and stop that nonsense, as her mother would say. Her mother loved to say things like that, pushing Sam into her proper place by implication alone.
“She’s a good kid, of course, but she’s a bit…” Her mother would trail off there, usually getting a commiserating expression from whoever she was talking to. Sam always wondered how that sentence would have finished. She’s a bit strange, maybe. She’s a bit intense. She’s a bit abrasive. She’s quiet enough but when Jason tried to steal her pencil in math class, she stabbed him in the hand so hard that the lead tattooed him.
Her mother was better, for the most part. The days of her stocking up the fridge, and leaving a post-it note on the counter, and leaving for days at a time were gone. But Sam still stepped around the place on the kitchen tile where her mother had collapsed and caved her head in, even though the bloodstains had been replaced with new tile.
“Your auntie got an abortion, you know,” her mother had said from her place on the couch, slurring her words. “Pill in the mail and then bam, no more baby.”
She had clapped her hands together to illustrate her point. Her mother jerked forward and grabbed Sam by the wrist, then, staring up at her until Sam met her eyes.
“I love you, you know? But sometimes I wonder…” She settled back onto the couch. “Yeah. I wonder.”
She’d gotten up, then, back to the kitchen. She’d been stumbling, a shambling zombie of a woman. The ground in the entryway of the kitchen was raised, ever so slightly, and her mother went down hard. Her head cracked against the tile, chin first, and she didn’t move.
Sam had been the one to call the ambulance. She had stared at the scattering of loose teeth on the ground while she waited, and considered what her life would be like with a dead mom. Not so bad, she thought, and immediately felt guilty for it.
Her mom was better, now, for the most part. But Sam still stepped around the place on the kitchen floor where she had collapsed. There was still a matchbox hidden under her bed with the gleaming shine of her mother’s lost teeth, two canines and a molar. It was nice, having a piece of her mom to keep. Even if she left again, Sam would still have part of her.
Sam sighed, and turned away from the ocean. As she faced towards the low dunes further up the beach, she saw a sandcastle sitting nestled among them. It was such a strange sight that her eyes skipped over it at first, almost automatically, disregarding it because it was so out of place.
Sam found sandcastles out on the beach sometimes, usually half-collapsed and on the verge of being washed away by the waves, but she had never seen anything like the sandcastle in front of her. It was life-sized, something that wouldn’t have looked out of place in the Scottish highlands, with spires shooting up above her head and carefully etched out bricks lining each side. The front wall was dominated by an arched set of double doors, twice her height, with a portcullis nestled at the top, ready to be dropped. All of it was lovingly detailed, down to the rust on the tips of the towers and the wood grain of the door. It was made out of wet, densely-packed sand, held together impossibly. It had not been there two hours ago, when she had come to the beach.
There was a bird sitting on the overhang of the door, small and black.
As soon as she took a step towards the sandcastle, the bird shook out its feathers and swooped down towards Sam, landing at her feet with a little stumble.
“Hey, kid, get out of here,” said the bird.
Sam closed her eyes, very deliberately. When she opened them, the bird was still there. Sam considered herself a very reasonable person, so she immediately drew the most logical conclusion. The bird was, she was almost certain, a demon.
“Trust me, you don’t want to run into Mr. Salty, the queen bitch himself,” the bird said.
“Mr. Salty?” Sam inquired, polite as she knew how to be. She edged to the side, trying to get a good angle to kick the bird like a soccer ball.
The bird did something similar to a wince, all its feathers fluffing up then settling back down. “Ah, don’t call him that. He’d turn you into a toad.”
The bird gestured with its head, towards the looming sand structure. “That’s his castle. He’s in there, probably scuttling along the ceiling or some shit because that’s the sort of weirdo he is.”
Sam nodded, encouraging. She pulled back her foot and lined up her shot, the way she’d seen athletes do on TV. She aimed right for its sharp beak and let loose. The bird saw it coming, its beady eyes widening, and it cawed in distress. It flapped away, avoiding her kick only to fall backward into the sand in a scramble of wings.
“What’s your fucking problem?” it squawked. “I was trying to help you!”
“I don’t need the help of a demon,” Sam yelled, trying to remember the exorcism that her mama had taught her once, because her mama believed in being prepared for anything.
“I’m not a demon,” the bird said indignantly.
It was at about that moment that Sam gave up and just decided to roll with it.
“What are you, then?” Sam asked.
The bird shuffled its clawed feet, looking about as awkward as it could, given that it didn’t really have recognizable facial expressions. “Technically I’m a familiar of the Erlking, prince of the fae, but I prefer to be called Hitch.”
“You can’t blame me for assuming, though,” Sam said. “Ravens do tend to be associated with murder.”
“Hey, excuse you,” Hitch said. “I’m a rook, not a raven. Ravens are way bigger.”
“Sure,” Sam said, not really paying attention. Her eyes had caught on the details of the sandcastle, and she was transfixed by the slow spirals of the sand, the strange beauty of it. She found herself stepping towards the great doors, lifting a hand to knock, and as she did, the sand warped in front of her eyes, heaving itself towards her with bulging slowness. The door creaked open before her, revealing a vast, empty room. Just before she stepped inside, she felt a piercing pain in her foot, and she yelped, leaping backwards.
Hitch pecked her again, really digging his beak in. “Don’t be an idiot.”
Sam glared at him, rubbing her foot. About to retort, she finally really took in the room inside the sandcastle, and her words died in her throat.
There was a body just past the threshold of the door, face down and limbs hanging limp at its sides. Long hair splayed out in a halo around its head.
“Don’t,” Hitch warned, suddenly serious. “Just leave, kid, I mean it. I’ve seen too many people go down this road and you don’t want to be one of them.”
Sam ignored him. She made her way across the beach, slipping with every step. The sand felt deeper, piling up around her feet in silent drifts. She picked up the nearest stick and poked the body with it through the door, ready to leap back if anything went wrong, staying firmly outside of the sandcastle.
This close, Sam could tell that it used to be a woman. Her head wasn’t attached to her body. It hadn’t been a clean amputation, either. Her upper body was bruised, with chunks taken out of it, and the bones in her neck hung mangled, not connected to anything.
“Well, I warned you,” Hitch said, defeated. “I did warn you.”
Sam nudged the head with the end of the stick, nudging it over so that she could see the face. Her mother stared back at her, torn to pieces, breath still wheezing from her lungs. She wasn’t blinking, just gazing forward with glazed eyes. Sweat dripped down from her hairline.
Sam screamed and dropped the stick, tripping over herself in her haste to get away.
Her mother’s eyes were wide and pleading, and she was mouthing desperate words at Sam. Her vocal cords were broken to bits, and the only sound that came out was a strained groan.
The head rolled, inching closer to Sam like a grotesque caterpillar.
Her mother gasped for air, torn lips fluttering. Finally, comprehensible words came out. “Help. Help me, daughter.”
“That’s not your mother,” Hitch said, quiet.
Sam knew that. Her mother was sleeping back at home, and anyways her mom had never asked for her help. She had an aversion to accepting charity, as she put it.
“Okay,” Sam said, shaking all over. “Okay.”
She backed away from the sandcastle, not looking away.
“Failure,” her mother hissed as she stepped away. “I never wanted a daughter like you.”
The sun came up over the horizon. The sandcastle, Hitch, and her mom all disintegrated into sand as the light hit them.
The beach, the next night, was almost exactly how I remembered it. The beams of our flashlights sent light bouncing across the dunes, illuminating the waves, and I imagined faces in the foam of the waves.
“I’ve been back here a hundred times. There’s nothing left,” I said.
Sam took the car key out of her purse and pointed it at the sand, adjusting the sword slung over her shoulder in order to do it. The key had belonged to Hitch; Sam had requested an item of his, and it was the only thing I had left. She rested the key on the sand and drew a circle around it, inscribing symbols around the borders.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
Sam shrugged. “Not much, really. I’m…I guess you could say that I’m knocking.”
The key laid inert on the sand for long enough that I was just about to give up and go home, admit to myself that Hitch was dead and that I was a fool to believe that Sam could actually help me. Then a building started to take shape, flickering in and out like it was struggling to get away. With a pop of displaced air, the sandcastle settled into existence.
Sam banged on the entryway. Nothing happened. She did it again, harder, and scowled when the door still didn’t open.
“We demand entrance, under your honor,” Sam yelled. There was a hard rush of wind, and I gripped Sam’s arm to keep my balance, but the doors cracked open reluctantly.
The inside of the sandcastle consisted of one enormous hall, the roof arching up out of sight. Rafters crisscrossed from wall to wall, and a cobbled path led further into the building, but other than that, it was completely empty, except for the birds. There were thousands of them, perched on the rafters or hopping along the ground. They parted in front of Sam and I, and reformed behind us, leaving us in a small pocket of open space. They were all black-feathered, with sharp beaks and beady eyes.
The Erlking sat on a throne at the end of the hall, lounging across it with his feet up on the armrest. He watched them as they came forward, the soft caw of the birds the only sound.
“I am here to bargain for the life of my brother,” I said, with as much dignity as I could muster, before the Erlking could say anything.
The Erlking ignored her, tilting his head to look at Sam. “I remember you. I almost got you, once.”

Sam glared at him but didn’t respond.
“You want your brother,” The Erlking said to me, and he almost sounded amused. “Then go get him.”
As if by some sort of silent signal, every bird in the room took flight at once, and their cawing made me think of screams. I covered my head against the flapping of their wings, and my vision was quickly obscured by the chaotic movement of them. I found myself on my knees, just trying to escape them.
A hand met my shoulder. Sam urged me to my feet, and together we ran for the edge of the room, where the swarm was the thinnest. We pressed ourselves into the corner and the swarm spiraled tighter and tighter at the center of the room. It went on until there seemed to be no differentiation between the birds, all of them fused together into one creature.
When the chaos died down, the birds had become one mass, with wings and eyes and talons sticking out of its flesh, thrashing and chirping. Human body parts stuck out of it, bulging out from the feathers. It was hands, mostly, with a couple knees or staring eyes. The bird amalgamation had no recognizable facial features, but there was one long beak extending from the front of its head. Most of the body parts were concentrated around the beak, and they peeked out from where the beak connected with muscle, or grew from the tongue, nestled between the two crushing halves of the beak.
It turned its beak down and crawled forward, using the hands to balance. The fingers scrambled over the ground. I was afraid of centipedes as a child, and I felt that same crawling dread when it started moving.
“Holy shit,” Sam whispered, which was rather disappointing, because I had been hoping that at least one of us knew what to do.
The creature turned, a lurching movement that crushed some of the hands underneath it, and started heaving itself slowly towards our corner.
“Better hurry up!” the Erlking called from his throne.
It was blocking the exit, by then. The shifting body of it had moved to block us off. It ambled towards us and I tried to sink further into the corner.
As it approached, getting close enough that I could smell the stink of it, I saw a flash of a tattoo on one of the hands. I leaned in, trying to find it again, like looking for dolphins surfacing in the ocean. And again, I caught a glimpse of a duck tattoo, the tattoo that Hitch had gotten on his hand as a teenager.
I ripped away from Sam’s death grip and ran for the monster.
I fell to my knees in front of it, wincing as I impacted the ground, and reached into the nest of hands. I could feel them tearing at my forearms and ripping into me with their sharp nails, but I kept going. I pressed further in, up to my shoulder in a writhing mass of limbs, aiming for the spot where I had last seen that tattoo.
The hands were tugging at me, wrapping around my back and hair. They were pulling together, trying to draw me completely into the mass of them. I was aware of Sam at my side, anchoring me in place and bashing any hand that got too close with her sword or the sparks that leapt from her hands with muttered words. But I didn’t think it would be enough. They were too strong, and there were too many of them.
I was up to my waist in the hands when something grabbed my palm. I felt the way it clung to me, and the calluses on its palm, and I knew that I had found my brother.
I flung herself back. The hands didn’t want to let me go, and they fought the whole way, but slowly, I made progress. I kept hold of Hitch’s hand in mine the whole time, gripping it as hard as I could. I finally broke free, Hitch with me, and Sam was immediately charging the creature, able to use her sword with much greater strength without being worried about injuring Hitch. She swung it forward, and it sliced through the wrist of one of the hands. It fell without a sound, red sand flowing out of it. It deflated until it looked like dirty laundry, just a piece of limp flesh. The creature shrieked, scuttling away enough that the door was finally accessible. The three of us ran for it, Sam and I supporting Hitch between us.
I looked back as I left and found the Erlking staring right at me.
“Interesting,” he murmured, his voice carrying impossibly across the vast space between us.
The sandcastle collapsed behind us, the great walls falling in on themselves. We were out in the morning sun, the sandcastle disappearing as we watched. Hitch was on the ground in front of me, as young as he’d been thirty years ago, when he was captured. He started laughing, feathers puffing out of his mouth. He laughed until he cried and I hugged him in the way that he’d held me when I was young, in the times when my life had been defined by hunger and fear.
Hitch left, afterwards. He scratched at the pinhole scars covering his body, where feathers burst through his skin, and pulled his long sleeves down around his wrists. He didn’t know where he was going but he told me that he needed time
I had spent thirty years worth of time without him. I wanted to grab my brother by the shoulders and beg him to stay. But he flinched when I hugged him goodbye and he refused to go near sand and he stared distrustfully at the birds chirping in the trees. Hitch needed to go away and I loved him too much to stop him.
I sat out on the beach every morning. I felt the sun on my face and I waited for Hitch to come home.

Summer Break SMP: Your Ultimate Minecraft Survival Adventure
Welcome to Summer Break SMP, a dynamic and vibrant Minecraft server where creativity meets adventure in the perfect balance of building, grinding, and socializing. Whether you’re a seasoned player or a newcomer looking for a welcoming community, Summer Break SMP offers a rich and engaging survival multiplayer (SMP) experience that will keep you hooked from day one.
Server Overview
Summer Break SMP is a survival multiplayer server designed to offer players a well-rounded Minecraft experience. Our server is tailored for those who enjoy the fundamental aspects of survival gameplay—building magnificent structures, grinding for resources, and forming lasting connections with other players.
Key Features
Building Paradise:
Creative Freedom: Build anything your heart desires, from sprawling cities and cozy villages to intricate redstone contraptions and breathtaking landscapes.
Collaborative Projects: Join forces with fellow players on large-scale builds or community projects, adding a cooperative element to your building endeavors.
Regular Build Competitions: Participate in themed building competitions to showcase your skills and earn unique rewards.
Community and socializing:
Friendly Community: Connect with a diverse group of players who share your passion for Minecraft. Our community is welcoming, inclusive, and always ready to help out.
Events and Activities: Engage in regular events such as PvP tournaments, treasure hunts, and seasonal festivities that bring the community together.
Voice and Text Chat: Stay connected with fellow players through our Discord server, where you can chat, plan builds, and form lasting friendships.
Server Management and Quality of Life:
Active Moderation: Our team of dedicated moderators ensures a safe and enjoyable environment for all players by enforcing server rules and handling any issues promptly.
Lag-Free Experience: We prioritize server performance to provide a smooth and lag-free gameplay experience, even during peak times.
Backups and Security: Regular backups and security measures are in place to protect your progress and creations.
In conclusion,
Summer Break SMP is more than just a Minecraft server; it’s a community where you can unleash your creativity, grind for resources, and make new friends. Whether you’re constructing a towering skyscraper, exploring the vast landscapes, or simply hanging out with other players, every moment on Summer Break SMP is an opportunity for adventure and fun.
Join us today and make your summer break unforgettable in the world of Minecraft!
Application Form- https://forms.gle/Zk9bccXfhS7SNt636

Round 1, Pick 5 - Joe Alt, OT, Notre Dame:
NFL: Head coach Jim Harbaugh is set on building an offensive bully and that starts with the offensive line. Alt comes in as a polished tackle who’ll step in and immediately boost the unit and protect Justin Herbert.
CBS Sports: B. He is the best in this class, but now he has to make the transition to right tackle for Jim Harbaugh. That can be tough to do. But taking a lineman makes sense, I just might have taken J.C. Latham as a better fit.
ESPN: Chargers general manager Joe Hortiz said they would stick to the process of picking the best player available, a strategy he learned from 26 years in the Baltimore Ravens personnel department that won him two Super Bowls. Selecting Alt on Thursday night supports this theory. The Chargers currently employ only four receivers -- none of whom has a season over 800 yards in the NFL -- and passed on taking the second-best receiver in the class. The Chargers are returning four of their five offensive line starters from last season and signed center Bradley Bozeman in free agency, but stuck to their strategy despite much bigger needs on the roster.
NFL Absolutely Not Fake News: His Skyrim character is Thad: The High King of Skyrim.
Round 2, Pick 34 - Ladd McConkey, WR, Georgia:
NFL: Our second pick, second receiver and first trade of the night. The Patriots slide back a few spots, and the Chargers get a receiver who should be thrust right into the mix. Although McConkey had injury issues at Georgia, if he's able to stay healthy, he could be Justin Herbert's favorite target in due time. With great route-running skills and impressive separation ability, McConkey could be an 80-catch player one day.
CBS Sports: A. Crafty, athletic, polished WR who can win on the boundary and in the slot. Releases are great. Route-running nuance also there. Deceptive speed and YAC skills.
ESPN: After trading Keenan Allen and releasing Mike Williams, the Chargers came into the draft with just four receivers on the roster. None among that receiving group of Joshua Palmer, Quentin Johnston, Derius Davis and Simi Fehoko had ever topped 800 yards in an NFL season. Since Herbert entered the league in 2020, he has always had a coterie of reliable pass-catchers, including players like running back Austin Ekeler and tight end Gerald Everett, who both left in free agency. McConkey, the Chargers hope, gives Herbert another player he can count on in the passing offense after many key departures.
NFL Absolutely Not Fake News: Cannot stand The Office save for Scott’s Tots.
Round 3, Pick 69 - Junior Colson, LB, Michigan:
NFL: If there was one player I would have bet would follow Jim Harbaugh to the Chargers, it would have been Mike Sainristil or Colson. The latter was the emotional heartbeat of a championship Michigan defense, as Colson is a full-tilt competitor who brings his all to every game and every practice. He's a tackling machine whose coverage limitations were likely what caused him to fall out of the top 50 picks.
CBS Sports: B. Ties to Jim Harbaugh and addresses a need at off-ball LB. Best tackling linebacker in the class by a wide margin. Flashed some coverage chops in 2023 but not a speciality. I didn’t see premier range or speed to the football. Beats blocks with decent regularly and ball skills must show up more in NFL. Very young.
ESPN: This was a position of need for the Chargers and Colson, who was a second-team Big Ten selection and led the team with 95 tackles last season, will bring necessary competition to a mostly unproven group. Both of the Chargers' starting outside linebackers in 2023 won't be back next season, as Kenneth Murray Jr. signed with the Tennessee Titans in free agency and Eric Kendricks was released in March. Linebackers Daiyan Henley (51 defensive snaps in 2023) and Nick Niemann (238 defensive snaps in 2023) are the Chargers' lone returning linebackers from last season, but they also signed Denzel Perryman and Troy Dye.
NFL Absolutely Not Fake News: We all know what pick this is so make with the ‘nice’ jokes.
Round 4, Pick 105 - Justin Eboigbe, DT, Alabama:
NFL: Jim Harbaugh keeps beefing up both fronts. Eboigbe played well in Bama's Rose Bowl loss to Harbaugh's Wolverines, so this pick isn't a shock. The Chargers are adding toughness in Eboigbe, assuming his health improves. He had a breakout season in 2023.
CBS Sports: C+. Classic Nick Saban defensive lineman. Two-gapping extraordinaire with thick, powerful frame. Good first-step quickness but won’t be a calling card to win as a pass rusher consistently in the NFL. Not a pass-rush move type. Higher floor than upside. Limited role.
ESPN: The Chargers begin Day 3 by filling another of the team's most significant needs. L.A. is set at outside linebacker on their defensive line with Khalil Mack, Joey Bosa and Tuli Tuipulotu, but they are largely unproven in the interior. Some of the Chargers' best interior defenders from last season, defensive tackle Sebastian Joseph-Day and defensive tackle Austin Johnson, won't be back in 2024. Eboigbe, 6-foot-4, 275 pounds, was a first-team All-SEC selection last season, finishing with a caterer-high seven sacks.
NFL Absolutely Not Fake News: Has been known to run around banging coconuts together simulating a horse.
Round 5, Pick 137 - Tarheeb Still, CB, Maryland:
NFL: The first tape I watched of Still, coincidentally, was against Michigan -- and he looked good. Jim Harbaugh clearly agreed, although Still's lack of elite speed or size might make him more of a candidate to kick inside as a nickel.
CBS Sports: C+. Chippy, fluid CB who wants to come up and hit people. Super-smooth hips. Doesn’t have the length or pure speed to be lockdown type but gets the most out of his athletic skill set. Won’t follow routes perfectly at the next level. Can be too grabby in man. Infectious energy on the field. Just lacks premier traits.
ESPN: The Chargers' pass defense was abysmal last season, allowing 249.6 yards per game, which ranked 30th in the NFL. So they had to address their secondary in the draft. Still, who is 6-foot and 189 pounds, ran a 4.52 in the 40-yard dash at the combine and finished with five interceptions last season, which tied for sixth in the FBS. He has lined up primarily outside (77% of his snaps came from out wide), but he can also play in the slot.
NFL Absolutely Not Fake News: His favorite operating system is Windows XP.
Round 5, Pick 140 - Cam Hart, CB, Notre Dame:
NFL: The Chargers double up on long DBs to help combat the AFC West's playmakers. Hart has a strong athletic profile, and he has the perfect makeup to be a special teams coverage standout as well.
CBS Sports: B-. Old-school, long outside CB. Huge with extreme length. Moves well for his size but probably won’t be able to stay with quick separators in the NFL on a regular basis. Last-resort grabbing gets him into trouble during the route. Speed is average and didn’t make many plays on the ball but not tested often. Maybe move to safety?
ESPN: Cornerback is the first position where the Chargers have drafted multiple players so far, proving that the group was one Hortiz knew needed improvement and competition. Cornerback may also be Hortiz's favorite position. He told reporters that he "never feels full at corner. That is a position that you never stop chasing," he said. The Chargers now have six cornerbacks on the active roster, including the 6-3, 202-pound Hart.
NFL Absolutely Not Fake News: Takes three to five business days to reply to an email.
Round 6, Pick 181 - Kimani Vidal, RB, Troy:
NFL: I'm a bit surprised the Chargers didn't take a back before this, but Vidal has a chance to join the RB rotation for Jim Harbaugh. Vidal's profile reads similarly to Blake Corum, so it's easy to see why Harbaugh might view him favorably.
CBS Sports: A. This is a future feature back. Stocky, well-built frame. Between the tackles experience and can blend slashing and multi-cut style together. Elusive, sets up blockers well and has effortless power through contact at times. Not a true burner.
ESPN: Since the Jim Harbaugh era began in February, the theme for the Chargers has been on running the football. Vidal gives them depth at a position that will be one of the most important on the team. Considering the talent in the Chargers' running back room, which includes J.K. Dobbins and Gus Edwards, Vidal likely projects to be mainly a special teams contributor in his first year. Vidal set the Troy career (4,010), single-season (1,661), and single-game (248) rushing records, and his great-uncle is Baseball Hall of Famer Hank Aaron.
NFL Absolutely Not Fake News: Spreads his love of Frito Pie eaten out of the little bag, like God intended.
Round 7, Pick 225 - Brenden Rice, WR, USC:
NFL: Jerry Rice's son and Caleb Williams' go-to guy figured to go a few rounds higher than this, but it's possible scouts felt there was more development needed in his game. With the Chargers, there are WR jobs open for Rice to make the roster early on.
CBS Sports: B+. Downfield specimen with quality size. Didn’t test amazingly but was a vertical weapon for Caleb Williams at USC. Stiff routes and only glimmers of YAC but has the power to run through some tackles. Fun fit with Justin Herbert. Son of NFL legend Jerry Rice.
ESPN: Only four receivers were on the Chargers roster before the draft, so drafting a second receiver seemed inevitable. Rice, 6-3, 208 pounds, is the son of Pro Football Hall of Fame receiver Jerry Rice. He played his final two seasons for the Trojans, where he was the primary deep target for No. 1 pick Caleb Williams. Rice led the team with a 14.6 air yards per target average in 2023, and 7 of his 12 TD receptions were on vertical routes -- tied for the sixth-most in the FBS.
NFL Absolutely Not Fake News: After adjusting the other picks & removing outliers he regresses to 1st overall.
Round 7, Pick 253 - Cornelius Johnson, WR, Michigan:
NFL: Another Michigan player for Jim Harbaugh. Johnson rarely was featured in Michigan's run-heavy system, but he made his mark as a blocker and occasional big-play receiver. His hands are inconsistent, but Johnson could find footing in L.A.
CBS Sports: C+. Sizable receiver who can deceive CBs with his long-striding speed when given a runaway. Inflexible movements will keep him from getting open on regular basis or winning against press. Ball skills are good in traffic.
ESPN: The more, the merrier in the Chargers receiving room. Johnson is their third pick at receiver, and for good reason. Johnson is also a familiar face, playing under Jim Harbaugh at the University of Michigan and the many other Michigan coaches on the Chargers staff. Johnson, 6-foot-3, 212 pounds, was a four-year starter at receiver and had 119 receptions since the start of 2021, the sixth most in the Big Ten. Johnson mainly played out wide in his career, with 84% of his snaps over the last three seasons coming lined up on the outside.
NFL Absolutely Not Fake News: Upset with the rising price of cheese and cheese related goods.

Big long post but there’s a TL;DR at the bottom. Also apologies for any incoherent rambling— I’m probably malnourished so my brain isn’t at 100%.
I want to be self-sufficient by becoming disciplined without needing motivation, but I don’t have a solid reason or drive to become disciplined. Any desire for it is fleeting. And it seems like all actions (or at least non-habit actions and actions to start habits) require desire/reason to do. I’m 20 years old, live with my parents, neglect meals and above-minimum hygiene, spend all my free days writing stories/consuming interesting content, haven’t actually cleaned my room in ages, and I feel like a lazy grown child loser who goes for the fun option instead of the productive one. It’s caused by a combination of problems, but mostly my lack of care and lack of discipline.
For example, I have no excuse for my room or bathroom to be a disaster, since I’m constantly in my room when I’m not at work. But besides my own disgust and my parents’ judgement, I don’t care about it. Even when my parents voice their disapproval, don’t care enough to do anything about it (because then I would have done something about it). Only when my dad threatened to kick me out do I have the motivation to finally do something about it. Later.
The only motivation I’ve ever had in order to achieve anything (other than chasing fun useless personal whims) is to avoid a negative consequence such as being judged or kicked out. I’ve spent my entire childhood in this stressful “do or you are destroyed, and if you take that second option, it mentally doesn’t exist so its not an option” mindset, and tbh I’m hakuna matata done with that— I’m not considering using stress/survival/negative outcomes as the drive to become disciplined (it might actually break me if I let stress become my world for tackling situations again anyway). But at the same time, I have no intrinsic motivation for anything except for my passion of writing and small fade-and-return interests. Disregarding those, if I had to say what I want in life, it would be to want something in life, but really I don’t actually care. This has caused a severe stagnation in my career (or lack thereof) which results in “failure to launch syndrome” and I hate it.
I do desperately want to live on my own because I feel like a loser, but I don’t have the income nor understanding of How People Adult to survive on my own. And I only care to survive because I want to finally, finally self-publish my stories, which I never accomplish out of crippling procrastinative perfectionism. I know that writing for a career is in fact a motivation, but in order to not further soil my passion of writing with the need to prove I’m not a loser, I will not use my passion of writing to motivate myself for general life stuff. That would foul my passion, and I don’t want to lose one of the only things that keep me going.
So I don’t have any motivation to do Actual Stuff until it hurts, but I also don’t have the discipline to do anything without motivation. For important things in my life, someone had always told me what to do, how to do it, and helped me do it, so I lack initiative, confidence, and discipline. Without someone’s help, I just stress and avoid doing a new important task because I don’t know how to magically and spontaneously know how to do it. (How do people learn life stuff??? I wish there was a step-by-step handbook for life-ing.) It’s like I never developed the magical adult skills of knowing stuff and I just exist there like some infant. (I know people don’t just know stuff or gain common sense without learning, but I don’t know how to learn common sense in order to learn stuff.)
I hate my current state, yet I don’t do anything about it. When I finally get fed up enough to try improving anything, I make some ambitious plan and it immediately fails because I don’t practice the concept of small steps and small goals. I know I should “start small” but I just don’t. I can try, and I understand it’s good advice, but I never care enough to go more than a day of starting small (I don’t see the progress and go “meh I wanna do something else”). I’ve read and been told to start small countless times, and I understand how it works and how it’s beneficial, but I never do anything until I’m fed up with myself, and then the desperation of my emotions and desire to prove to everyone that I’m actually a responsible, competent not-loser makes me go for a big plan instead. Which I then proceed to polish up and forget about it in favor for some short-term sparkly thing.
I’ve been Googling to try to get answers to solve my issues off and on for months. I always read the same advice, and I always understand the real solutions to my problems, but I never put it into action. I know I need to work on my discipline and get a therapist for my probably-depression and find a good-paying career but I just don’t.
TL;DR: I’m fed up with myself again. I want to become disciplined without needing motivation, but I don’t have a solid reason or drive to become disciplined. And it seems like all actions (or at least non-habit actions and actions to start habits) require desire/reason to do. How do I actually get disciplined when I have no intrinsic motivation to persevere enough to get the discipline to get disciplined? I can’t afford to go survival-mode by moving out, and I refuse to ruin my only hobby by using it as motivation. But I also can’t survive on bursts of being fed up to motivate an inch of action out of me every few months (that doesn’t build habits). I can try to “start small” which I understand is good advice, but I never care enough to go more than a day of starting small (I don’t see the progress and go “meh I wanna do something else”).
I’m so undisciplined that I can’t just “get disciplined”. I want to become disciplined but I don’t care enough to actually do so. Is there a way to self-help this?
Thanks in advance.

But first off, I want to clearly state my objectives for these changes:
General:

• Achieve ideal balanced state between the duelists through UNIFORMITY.

Specific:

• Make Raze less oppressive
• Tune up Neon for her to compete well with Jett/Raze in terms of dive capacity
• Tune up Phoenix to rise over Raze in terms of space-clearing capability
• Rework Iso to be a 'dive-capable' agent, without erasing his identity.
• Give minor buffs to Yoru, to help with his ease of mobility across large maps like Breeze.
• Forget about Reyna for now.

Targets:
Rank in terms of Movement:

1. Neon
2. Jett
3. Raze
4. Yoru
5. Iso
6. Phoenix

Rank in terms of ability functions: (1- having the most self-aiding abilities, and 6- having the most enemy-debuffing abilties; Ultimates not counted)

1. Jett (3 abilities for self)
2. Iso (2 for self, 1 for enemy)
3. Neon (2, 1)
4. Yoru (1, 2)
5. Raze (1, 2)
6. Phoenix (3 for enemies)

Ideal Map Size for Each Duelists:
Jett: flexible Raze: mid-ranged - close-ranged Neon: mid-ranged - long-ranged Phoenix: close-ranged Iso: mid-ranged Yoru: long-ranged (Bind being an exception because of the presence of teleport portals)
So, here are the changes with my reasonings:
1.) JETT [No Changes]

• Jett is a fairly decent agent now and pros who have mastered her pick her.

2.) RAZE [Nerf]
Make Paintshells her Q, and Blast Packs her E
Q: Paintshells - Make shootable (100HP) while still in the air; will explode upon shooting.
E: Blast Pack - Rechargeable every two kills (one pack). Only displaces Raze. No equip delay for it to deal damage.
X: Showstopper - Remove the feature/bug that sents Raze flying when fired to the ground in combo with a satchel.

• I made Raze's kit mainly focused on entry- this weakens her another initially strong function which is flushing out enemies from a site. Hence, her signature ability now is her satchels. And since satchel propels Raze to the air, I made her grenade able to be used as a good distraction that the enemies can point their crosshairs to.

3.) NEON [Buff/Rework]

• We can go two ways about this: it is either,

1. Neon retains her movement ability as it is, but gets buffs to her other abilities, including ult.
2. Neon gets buffs to her movement ability but retains her other abilities.

If chosen the latter, the changes would be:
E: High Gear - Introduce a new passive that will replace the slide: SURGE. Right-click while sprinting to quickly drain Neon's energy meter and surge- during this period, she runs twice (2.5x) the speed as her normal sprint. (5m/s increased to 12.5m/s). When activated, the energy meter drains 4x as fast and will not recharge anymore for the remainder of the round. Passive is usable only once per round.
E: (Electric Slide) - Make electric slide usable everytime Neon sprints: but only moves her as far as 3m. To slide and pull out gun after sprinting, press Ctrl key (crouch). Sliding after Surge moves Neon for 7m.
X: Neon cannot shoot electric field during surge while ulted.

• I chose the latter since I want Neon to be the ideal dive agent. Compared to Jett and Raze, she now has three movement configurations at her disposal: slide, surge, sprint. This makes her a movement-focused agent. But as trade-off, she has comparatively weaker basic abilities and ultimate than both Jett and Raze since unlike the two, Neon's stuns, wall and ult oblige her to keep pushing forward ang get a kill; there are no secondary uses to them such as stalling or intel-gathering. And also, she lacks the verticality that the two agent offer. Hence, she must clearly excel in her horizontal mobility.

4.) PHOENIX [Rework]
Make C ability (Blaze) his Q and His flashes his C.
Q: Blaze - Has 4s Duration (1s casting period included), 15 dps. Can be casted through walls. Already deals damage during the casting period. Casting/curving the wall is now faster. Phoenix will not get healed by the wall anymore. But casting it induces a speed boost of about 15%.
E: Hot Hands - Resembles Raze's grenade more than Brimstone's molly now. Ability model now looks like a campfire, unlike before when it looked like a lava flow. Area of damage effect spreads over time throughout its 3s duration. Ticks 35 damage per second. Does not heal Phoenix anymore.
X: Run it Back - Ult points required: 6 > 8

• I changed the abilities, without changing Phoenix's kit and identity as a whole (except the healing part, which I think can be the niche of Reyna but let's forget about her for now). I made his wall more optimal for assault gunfights and taking space, instead of maintaining brief control over an area or cutting off sightlines when entrying into site (Viper and Harbor do that already). Phoenix's molly is also his signature ability; thus, it is appropriate that it stands as the best molly in the game- not Raze's anymore. With these changes, I'm hoping for Phoenix to be a hard-clearing duelists who's designed to flush enemies out of tight areas and corners (Haven garage and a short came to mind). And lastly, the ult orb change is for making Phoenix's ult more in-line with other ults in the game since it is pretty strong.

5.) ISO [Rework]
Make his C ability (bulletproof wall), attached to his E ability for it to work like this: when Iso gets a shield, he can detach it from his body and turn it into a forward-moving impenetrable wall as the ability window ends. Then, replace it with a new C ability.
C: (cant think of a name for it) - Iso's MOVEMENT ability. Equip to instantly send out a flying aimlab orb (like a sova drone but has the same speed of gekko's thrash) for 2s. Has 2 charges: equip the 2nd charge while the previous charge's timer is running out to refresh the ability timer. After the timer expires, Iso will be teleported to the land directly below the orb. Has the same gun pullout speed as Yoru.
Q: Undercut - Aside from the vulnerability, add a new status effect: ISOLATION. Enemies hit by it will have narrowed down vision (similar to spike rush paranoia) and will be unable to make crossfires with their ally/allies. This debuff won't allow for the narrowed vision cone of the affected player to intercept with the vision cone of his/her ally. Charge decreased: 2 > 1
E: Double Tap - Charge decreased from 2 > 1. Duration of focused activity decreased to 10s.
Okay, explanations here we go:
C: From ISO's pov

• When casted, enter a 'phaser world' similar to his ult but has the same layout as the map. (Works like Omen's smokes but first-person; so basically, the camera is attached to the orb itself). The movement of the orb in Iso's world is the same as in the actual world. The orb cannot trasverse through walls.

C: From allies' pov

• Iso's body remains stationary at the place where he casted the ability (like a Sova droning or a Skye dogging). Iso casting the second charge of the orb while the first charge is still active will not spawn Iso to where the first charge ended. Rather, Iso will remain at the position where he casted the first charge until the second charge's timer expires.

C: From enemy's pov

• Flying orb looks just like a normal orb that Iso shoots when E is active. Only difference is that, it requires to be shot twice to break it. Once destroyed, Iso is forcibly spawned, standing at the land below it.

Q: How does it work?

• Assume that your allies have lasers directly pointing to where their crosshairs are - and that each of the beam ends when it hits a surface/wall. Now, when you're hit by an enemy Iso's undercut, looking at atleast one of these laser beams will blind you at an almost instantaneous speed.
• Why all of these changes? To answer that, I practically just gave Iso some of Omen's characteristics. Iso's C ability now is almost identical to Omen's shrouded steps; and his Q to Omen's paranoia. This is to promote competition within the role since Iso now has a movement ability, albeit not a strong one. Besides, Iso's power lies at his ability to isolate enemies: these changes only strengthen Iso in this axis while still providing signifcant drawbacks: (only one charge of Q and E, risky entry with C and being unable to disengage with it unlike other movement abilities).

6.) YORU [Buff]
E teleport anchor & Q projectile now move depending on Yoru's velocity during casting (similar to Omen's paranoia before it was patched out). Moving forward: faster, backward: slower, still: normal.
7.) REYNA [Rework]

• I just stated a few pharagraphs ago to forget about Reyna. But, ignoring her will be a blatant problem. It is actually her that needs fixing more than the other agents in the game since her playstyle just does not fit valorant. One may argue that as long as Reyna caters to a certain playerbase, she is okay and better be left as is. That may be true to some extent but I am sharing my concept anyways.

C: Leer - Invisible when still in motion, only becomes visible and nearsights enemy when already at targeted position.
E: Dismiss & Q: Devour - still has shared two charges. But the left part now (under E) is highlighted purple, while the right part is white. The latter charge is purchasable.Reyna has one free purple charge every round. Q is now usable even WITHOUT harvesting a soul orb- this consumes the white charge. When Q activated, enter a 12s activation window (similar to Jett's tailwind) that grants Reyna increased gun pull out speed and quiet footsteps even when running with melee out. When the timer expires, all the damage incurred by Reyna during the 12s window will be healed at a rate of 20HP/s. Press Q while the window is active to abruptly finish the timer and heal up. Throughout the interaction, Reyna does not have ability cast animations.
Press Q while a soul orb is in line of sight to OVERHEAL with it (like how it works now)- this consumes the purple charge. E is only usable through a soul orb- this also consumes the purple charge.
X: Empress - Enter frenzy mode. The purple charge gets unlimited and can be used as long as there is a soul orb available. Ult points requirement: 7 > 6
And those are all the changes. If you made it to the end, thank you for reading my weeks worth of thinking.

I’m passionate about regenerative agriculture. I want to find a way to help folks doing the hard work.
Assume the software was free. What type of software do you wish you had (at any point along the journey)? I’d like to build something easy to use that would’ve helped you find the right property, plan appropriately for the property you already own, or assist in any capacity the enterprises you are already operating.
Let me know!

It if my belief that the hardest liberal ideal to uphold is not property rights or free-markets but pluralism. This is because the instinct to demonize and distance oneself from one's enemies is overwhelmingly strong, driven by pride, fear, anger, and disgust. But we should stand against these impulses, for the very core of democracy relies on people and groups of different to engage and hash out a plan for the future. With that in mind, I would like to make a case that one of the most powerful and useful things a principles neoliberal can do is bridge build.

What is Bridge Building?

Bridge-building is not rigorously defined because it's pretty new, but it comes from very old human instincts: curiosity and a desire for authentic connection.
Curiosity is not just a desire for knowledge, but a desire to expand one's view of the world and a practice of being an ever-enthusiastic learner. Curiosity does not have to be about facts but also about new experiences and ways of thinking. To be curious about a person is not necessarily wanting to know their social security number, but how they came to where they are in life and how they see the world. Curiosity is not just touching grass, but appreciating the park's beauty. If I were not curious, I would likely have noped out of this subreddit based on the name alone. But because I was, I read the sidebar.
It is my belief that people have an innate desire to be heard, to be seen and respected. And although it is diminished as of late, people also have the capacity to truly connect to others on a deeper-than-superficial level. This is hard online, but much easier in the real world. This desire and capacity for connection can help people overcome great differences and sprout the seeds of a great friendship.
Based on these two principles, Bridge-Building is a movement to ease polarization by connecting people of different backgrounds and groups together to foster greater understanding. The goal is not to reduce disagreement, but to make it more productive.

Why should Neoliberals Aim to Bridge Build?

Yeah, why should we? If we know best, why should we listen to those chumps? After all, I already have a name for everyone to right and left of me: wrong.
For one, do we really know best about everything? In the Socratic Dialogue Meno, Socrates and the politician Meno discuss the nature of virtue. During a debate on whether virtue can be taught, Meno asks Socrates this:

And how will you enquire, Socrates, into that which you do not know? What will you put forth as the subject of enquiry? And if you find what you want, how will you ever know that this is the thing which you did not know?

Here in lies Meno's Paradox: how do you know if you need to learn? If you already have that knowledge, you do not need to look any longer. And if you don't, then you have no idea what you're searching for. Socrates uses the idea of inbuilt knowledge as his answer, but I have another one which may strike more directly to the interests of liberals: simply assume that your knowledge is incomplete, and seek a more complete picture. Given all the knowledge in the world out there and all the things have yet to be discovered, it is unlikely that you or any other person has the complete picture on even a single issue.
But even if we do not know everything, if there value in learning from those of different views of us? I say that there is, and I will use another famous parable, this time from Buddhism, to illustrate my point. In this story, a kind invites a group of blind men to experience something that they have never encountered before: an elephant. When each blind man has felt a part of the creature, the king asks them to describe what they are touching. The man touching the foot says that the thing is a pillar, the man touching the trunk says it is a plow, the man touching the tip of the tail says a brush, and so on. The blind men cannot agree on what they are all touching, and so start an ancient version of a flamewar which entertains the king. In this story, the elephant is "The Truth", if such a thing exists. Although we all come in contact with the truth and with reality, we each come at it at different angles, like how the blind men are touching different parts. This means that while our individual perspectives are incomplete, they can be put together as a much more complete picture. People who remember the "wisdom" of the crowds should also recognize the powerful insights that can come from non-experts, especially as a group. Neoliberals who aspire to be "evidence-based" should not just gather evidence from different sources, but learn about different ways of thinking from others, or else they would be like one blind man squeezing the elephant's gonads really hard and thinking he's touching a balloon.
Hoewver, there are a lot of people who will reply to this very post and say, "isn't it dangerous to engage with certain people? What about those who are too stupid and hateful to learn?". Firstly, you should never bridge build if you feel unsafe. However, feeling unsafe is not the same as feeling uncomfortable, and discomfort may help you shake out of old patterns. Secondly, the foremost goal of substantive discussion is not to teach but to learn: even if the other party is too stupid to learn, if you are able to listen and learn you will have gained from the conversation. This may not always work out, but I promise you that when it does the effect is magical.

How do you Bridge Build?

This is the hard part. I haven't fully figured it out myself, but I have some pointers:

1. Be patient. People, especially people on the internet, are no the most eloquent speakers. Struggling to find the right words or having incorrect grammar and spelling should not be taken as signs of being dumb babies not worth talking to. Additionally, try not assume all of what people are based on snippets of information.
   
2. Be polite. Avoiding infamatory remarks ("You can't even read a supply and demand graph") and ambiguous slogans ("From the river to the sea, drugs will be free!") and try to keep the focus on the issues instead of the other person (or what you assume of the other person).
   

3.Stand up for your beliefs. Common ground is only real if it is earned. Be upfront about what you believe and how you came to believe those things. Anything else would be a disservice to the other party.

1. Follow your curiosity. Try to ask questions in good faith instead of as traps (although I admit I do this a lot). Who knows where the inquiry will go?

But if that's too hard or ambiguous, there's a lot of help out there. Here are some organizations and projects that specialize in bridge-building:
Braver Angels: They host workshops, debates, and other events for bridging divides. I also like their A Braver Way Podcast. They also happen to be associated with one American Purpose Magazine.
One Small Step by StoryCorps: If you sign up, they may match you with someone they think you will have a fruitful conversation with.
National Institue for Civil Discourse: Come on, one of the founding Co-Chairs was Bill Clinton, and a former board member was H.W. Bush.
There are many more, so feel free to search for yourself. So, why not try building some bridges? They're an important piece of infrastructure.

I tend to feel delayed grief consistently. I just left somewhat of an abusive relationship yes I was hit, threatened and tormented and spoken down on consistently but no he never left significant marks. Just hurt me just enough to scare me and make me cry then yell at me for crying… idk whatever. Point is it’s 1 am now, 2 weeks of no contact finally passed he’s finally given up calling and messaging me and threatening me from every single social app he knows and he can’t reach me anymore and have changed my number.
If it was so bad why do I miss him so much and literally feel this way now… I know the entire last few months with him I was miserable and kept telling him things like about how sad I was and how he just kept being a monster. The final straw was when he referred to his own mother as “this lady” and started calling her nasty names as he does to me bc she made him food but he didn’t like the smell of it and got mad bc she told him to eat some. Referred to her as “this stupid lady”. I called him out as I always do bc seeing that is disgusting especially as he’s a freaking felon I remind him his mother doesn’t owe him food at his grown age of 28 and to make his own food next time to avoid that issue. and that when he got out of jail she could have changed the locks and not let him live there rent free while he treated her terribly… so ofc instead of acknowledging it like he never does he brings up the one and only time I ever messed up 5 years ago (before we even started dating and we’re only talking but that’s an even longer story).
I feel like throwing up and I know going back in just disrespecting myself and feeling down again. I know I’d feel sad with him and just as sad now without him. I know I need to love myself but he really took me down thru the mud and I just go thru the days now like a zombie just trying to get to the next day. He never did anything for me he was never thoughtful or kind and never reciprocated then tormented me and made me suffer and he enjoyed it. Then apologize and make up. I’ve heard that’s the tactic these kind of people use, torment u then remedy it even tho the torment was never necessary in the first place. I was disrespected consistently thru phone text in person in my car in my own home… all while he got everything he wanted from me. Why was I so desperate to please him.
Now I find myself trying to latch onto any other person I meet. I met someone last week and kissed him and feel disgusting. I feel lost and I haven’t cried these past 2 weeks but today it’s really hitting me hard. I don’t have anyone to talk to and I just want this to pass so badly. Just venting. I haven’t eaten and am becoming addicted to how I look now just skinny and tired like a corpse. I sleep probably 3 hours at most and stay up the majority of the night until the morning and even when I can eat I. Just can’t ever finish anything - 3 bites and I’m nauseous. I regret kissing that person last week and initiating a sort of friendship bc now when their attention is not on me I feel extremely worse even tho I know they owe me nothing and know nothing about what I’m going thru. My home makes me feel sad I put everything he ever gave me ina closet today and the only way I can sort of see him is through his online store. And I feel horrible bc he use to updated his products everyday. Except maybe something happened to him or he’s sad too bc he hasn’t updated it in 5 days. I need to get rid of that app too it’s what’s hurting me most today that I can’t fully let go.
I thought we’d have children together and get married he is genuinely my other half but why does it feel so wrong leaving him when he hurt me so much. Loyalty wasn’t an issue it was EVERUTHING else. To the point that everyday something brought up an argument that escalated way past normal arguments into bullying and name calling territory and his ego so big he couldn’t just be a man he had to make sure he came out on top always while I had to make myself small and bow down.
I’m hurting so bad now. I think it hurts more bc it was that easy for him also to let it go. All the threats about showing up to my building and knocking my door down and nothing ever happened. This whole time I was just stupid foolish and dumb over a man who felt large just by threatening and scaring me constantly when he maybe never even truly cared. I feel so stupid I wish I could scrub my brain rn I can’t stop smoking these disgusting black and milds now either. I’ve been seeing my sisters more often now and it helps that my sis is also going thru a similar breakup not involving dv but just certain aspects that are similar to toxicity. I don’t want anyone to feel sad I hope no one feels as Sad as I do now.

Stuff I don't use so I'm selling for some money to buy other stuff, shipping isn't included in the price :-)
Items 4 sale:
TM P226E2 - 200$ Firm

• Shot a few times & pretty good condition
• Bought originally for a steel build but I ended up buying a inkokatsu p226 so that was instantly scrapped
• Comes with original box n stuff & a single magazine

Complete TM Glock 17 Gen 3 Lower with TTI magwell - 150$ Firm

• Moving from the gen 3 platform and I wanna save up for the newest gen 5, I also sold off the slide recently so I'm left with just a lower.
• Stippled by me to replicate TTI stippling, first time for me so don't expect amazing result.
• Comes with a TTI magwell
• No issues and fully functionally

Pic(s) Can provide more if requested
Item 2 buy:

• TM V10 Ultra Compact
• TM G17 Gen 5 MOS
• Archwick L119A2 MWS or Angry Gun Rail (Barrel nut for VFC is a plus) or HAO GHK kit

Note: Stuff I plan on getting in the future but isn't big priority right now, just throwing this out here in case anyone wants to hit me up now or later in the future.
Located in BC, Vancouver, able to ship or do local deals (Pick up & Meet up) I accept EMT & Cash!

First off, 2002 GTI 1.8T, 2 door with rear seats removed. Mechman 370 Amp Alt. XS Power D4700 in the engine bay, D3100 in the trunk. Alpine CDE-175BT, 5v preouts. 2 CT-Sounds Meso 12" 1500 Watt RMS, wired to 1 ohm, in ported box tuned to 35 hz. Previously powered by Taramps Bass 3k. 4 Sets Meso 2 Way Components, 2 in rear, 2 in QLogic Kick Panels. CT-Sounds CT80.4AB for speakers. DS18 BKVR Bass Knob. Kilmat where needed (I'm aware, not the best, but seemed to hold up for my needs in the previous car).
My old beater Grand Am took a dump on me, do I pulled the good out of it and decided why not throw it in my little GTI and do it better this time.
Still running wiring and getting speakers installed, plus waiting on my little brother to build me a new box since the old one got excited and ended up wet.
I'll be doing the Big 4 with Sky High 1/0 Gauge OFC.
Planning for doubling everything up and having 2 1/0 runs from Alt to Battery, both power and ground. 2 1/0 runs from front to rear battery. 2 1/0 grounds, yadda yadda, you get the drift.
Question is, my taramps is a few years old at this point and I'm thinking of upgrading. I'm eye balling the newer Big Boss 3 from Taramps. But I've also thought about going with CTs ATv2 3000.1d.
As the title suggests, looking for opinions. I know brazillian boards are hungry little power houses. I also know CT gets theirs from China. This is more for a daily driver set up than competition.
Or sell me on something else. Budget is kinda up in the air, although I'd prefer keeping it under $600.

leaders #science #update #hardware #event #vc #opensource #api #tool #scheduled

Greg Brockman and Sam from OpenAI expressed gratitude for Jan's contributions and outlined their strategy, which includes raising awareness of AGI risks and opportunities, improving safety measures, and preparing for more complex interactions with AI systems in the future. They emphasized the need for rigorous testing, collaboration, and balancing safety and capabilities in AI development, acknowledging the lack of a proven playbook for navigating the path to AGI [1].
NVIDIA and Dell are partnering to transform enterprises at Dell Technologies World, offering sessions on AI, multicloud, edge computing, and more. Attendees can get NVIDIA certified for free and learn about generative AI, NVIDIA AI Enterprise, NIM microservices, accelerated computing platforms, networking solutions, and training opportunities [2]. Leading retailers are using generative AI, offered by NVIDIA, to enhance consumer experiences and improve operational efficiency [3].
Varun Krishna, CEO of Rocket Companies and Rocket Mortgage, discussed the intersection of AI and fintech, as well as the future of real estate in a conversation with a16z [4].
Yann LeCun emphasized the need to first design AI systems smarter than a house cat before controlling AI systems smarter than humans. He compared this to the development of aircraft safety, highlighting the importance of careful engineering and iterative refinements over time [5]. LeCun also discussed the challenge of getting AI systems to understand the world, reason, and plan effectively, acknowledging the presence of hype, hubris, and naivete in the field of AI [6]. He aims to develop AI systems as intelligent as a cat [7] and agrees with Sebastien Bubeck that cats understand the physical world much better than Large Language Models (LLMs) [8]. LeCun also highlighted the sophisticated mental models of bio-llamas that enable them to plan complex actions for survival in the wild [9]. However, he noted that current learning methods that enable LLMs to understand and generate text do not work effectively for natural inputs like images and video [10]. LeCun also discussed the scenario of an intelligent system becoming uncontrollable and posing a threat to humanity, mentioning that this scenario is a common cliché in bad sci-fi but not reflective of reality [11]. He mentioned that they started research earlier and shared their findings openly, allowing others to build on their work [12].
Groq Inc expressed gratitude to everyone and their developer community [13][14]. They are offering improved rates for competitors using Groq at an upcoming hackathon and free API access without the need for credits [15][16]. Groq Inc will have an event next week and will be attending the summit and happy hour, inviting others to come say hi [17][18].
1. Greg Brockman @gdb https://twitter.com/gdb/status/1791869138132218351
2. NVIDIA AI @NVIDIAAI https://twitter.com/NVIDIAAI/status/1791876407166972204
3. NVIDIA AI @NVIDIAAI https://twitter.com/NVIDIAAI/status/1791921725317189920
4. a16z @a16z https://twitter.com/a16z/status/1791899805746348302
5. Yann LeCun @ylecun https://twitter.com/ylecun/status/1791890883425570823
6. Yann LeCun @ylecun https://twitter.com/ylecun/status/1791892950999241158
7. Yann LeCun @ylecun https://twitter.com/ylecun/status/1791899300131188963
8. Yann LeCun @ylecun https://twitter.com/ylecun/status/1791900825742159958
9. Yann LeCun @ylecun https://twitter.com/ylecun/status/1791914784134205668
10. Yann LeCun @ylecun https://twitter.com/ylecun/status/1791915759494459807
11. Yann LeCun @ylecun https://twitter.com/ylecun/status/1791917610143039945
12. Yann LeCun @ylecun https://twitter.com/ylecun/status/1791930381291151564
13. Groq Inc @GroqInc https://twitter.com/GroqInc/status/1791696447832043917
14. Groq Inc @GroqInc https://twitter.com/GroqInc/status/1791935718962635241
15. Groq Inc @GroqInc https://twitter.com/GroqInc/status/1791936814108024976
16. Groq Inc @GroqInc https://twitter.com/GroqInc/status/1791937697499779078
17. Groq Inc @GroqInc https://twitter.com/GroqInc/status/1791937823228215402
18. Groq Inc @GroqInc https://twitter.com/GroqInc/status/1791938116699422940

I first started noticing that something was wrong around 3 months ago. At the time, I was working from home and would usually light a scented candle while I worked, which usually helped me relax and stay focused on my work. I would usually burn through a candle a week, but over time, the candles started to take less time to fully burn up. At first, I thought that this was because of a change in ingredients the company that made the candles used, but the problem persisted after I switched candle brands, which I once again blamed on the candle manufacturers.
I kept this belief for another week until the first incident. While getting up from my computer desk, which faces away from the candle, to take a quick bathroom break, I caught a glimpse of the lit candle. A two-inch layer of molten wax rested on another three-inch layer of solid wax, the wicks rising out at first and being somewhat visible through the molten layer, finally breaking the surface and being slowly burned away. The flames flickered as I swung the door open and walked out of the room. When I returned 10 minutes later, the molten layer was gone, and the wicks had been shortened so that the flames rested right above the solid layer of the wax. At first, I thought that the glass jar that contained the candle was leaking, but after a short inspection, I was only able to find two small drops of candle wax that had solidified right next to the candle on the bedside table. I still had 2 hours of work left to do, but I was too lost in thought and was unable to do any work for the rest of the day.
Every night before I go to sleep, I like to read for at least 30 minutes, and while reading, I usually light a candle. Around 4 days later, I had mostly forgotten about the incident and went back to using candles. Due to my naivety, it returned.
I fell asleep while reading with a candle lit on my bedside table. I woke up to loud slurping noises. As I opened my eyes, the brightness of the light I had not turned off almost blinded me. As my eyes tried to readjust to the light and focus on what was in front of me, I saw a somewhat humanoid dark gray to light blue blur that contrasted with the white paint on the walls behind it. Another gray line stretched from the shape's head to the candle on my bedside table. I could feel my heart skip five consecutive beats. I opened my mouth and tried to force out a scream for help, but the pressure I applied to my throat was way beyond what it was able to handle, leading me to only produce a light wheezing sound. I tried to sit up or to at least prop myself up, but my muscles failed me. Trying to push myself up with my arms felt impossible. As I stared at the figure that had suddenly appeared in my room, my eyes finally managed to focus, making it possible for me to see the intruder who was now staring at me. The figure was a man at least 7 feet tall, fully naked; he looked bloated; his eyes were bloodshot and looked like they would pop out of their sockets; at any point, his skin was a grayish light blue.
HIS LIPS
His lips extended from his mouth like an elephant's trunk, which had been split in half. The lips extended from the man's face to the candle; the flames had been put out. He was using his lips as a makeshift straw, slowly sucking up all the molten wax from the candle, which had fully liquified while I was asleep. I laid in bed, unable to move, unable to scream for help, staring until he emptied the jar. His lips retracted back to his face, the molten wax solidifying on their tips and cracking, flakes of wax falling off the man's lips and falling to the floor. The man grinned, staring at me. The ridges and gaps between the teeth were filled in with wax, making it impossible to make out where one tooth ended and the next one began. The man opened the door he was standing next to, but instead of walking out of the room, he stepped behind it. His face peered at me from above the door, and then once again, like he had done to drink the wax, the man puckered his lips, which stretched from his mouth and floated to me. I shook and tried to roll over away from him. I wanted to get up and run, but my fear had taken over my body. Tears flowed from my eyes. He kissed me on the cheek, leaving flakes of wax and light moisture. He retracted his lips and lowered his head behind the door.
I don't remember falling asleep, but when I woke up, I saw the empty glass jar, which at one point contained the candle. Even though I had hoped that what had happened was a dream, it wasn't. I still had flakes of wax on my cheek, and on my bedroom floor, the wax in the jar had disappeared. I called the police, but they were unable to find anyone in my apartment; they also could not find any evidence of a break-in.
After the break-in, I started looking for a new apartment to move to, thinking that the man was tied to the building I was in, but even though I had thrown out all of my candles, I could not stomach spending another hour in my apartment, constantly looking over my shoulder or walking around with my back pressed up against the wall to not allow it to creep up on me. Thankfully, my friend Emma was able to let me stay over at her apartment while I looked for a new one for myself.
Me and Emma have been friends since we were 8, and we've been there to support each other when times get rough. This isn’t the first time I've had to stay over at her house for an extended amount of time; in fact, I have had to stay over at Emma’s as many times as she has had to stay over at my apartment, whether it was because of evictions after losing a job, breakups, or a candle wax drinking squatter. I didn't even know if it was human. I mean, sure, it looked like one, but human lips are not supposed to do what his did, and somehow it didn't have a reaction to molten wax being poured down its esophagus. I didn't tell Emma about what happened—the details at least—I just told her that a man had broken into my house and was watching me sleep. The only people I told the truth to were my therapist and the cops, and all of them disregarded what I told them as my mind making things up after a traumatic event.
For a while, I believed what they said—I mean, why wouldn’t I?—but then I started seeing him again. For a few days, I thought it was my mind playing tricks on me again like it had done during the night of the incident. For split seconds out of the corner of my eye, I would see the outline of a tall, bloated figure. At first, they were hours apart, but after a while, it became constant. He was standing in each room I passed, in every single dark corner I glanced past, and then he spoke.
“FeeD MeEeee”
It stood in the kitchen, peering over from a small gap between the fridge and the sink, where the trash can that had been knocked over onto its side usually stood. His voice was raspy, and every word that came out of his mouth was distorted as if he were gargling water, but still, I could somehow clearly make out each word he said from over 15 feet away.
“Please just leave me alone I… why are you following me?”
I shouted at the figure, the same fear that had taken over my body during the night I saw him for the first time paralyzing me, making it impossible for me to move anything other than my eyes, eyelids, and mouth.
“i’M sTarviNg, I nEEd You To FeEd ME”
It replied again. Now, stepping out from behind the fridge, he stepped directly onto a rotten banana. Its mushy brown content’s seeping out of the peel under the pressure of his decomposing foot, which was covered in scabs, and took up the same grayish light blue color as the rest of his body. He mostly looked the same; his bloodshot eyes bulged from their sockets, but now his tongue was swollen. It peeked out from between his bloated, cracked gray lips; it stared at me, waiting for an answer.
“Ok, I’ll.. I’ll feed you, but please just... leave me alone.”
I replied, the tone of my voice shifting into high-pitched squeals with every quick breath I took. He looked satisfied by my response. He somehow squeezed his bloated body back into the gap that was at least four times smaller than him. After peering over at me from above the fridge, he bent over backwards, his spine releasing a series of sickening cracks until he was fully obscured by the fridge, and then he vanished.
Still barely in control of my body, I limped over to the couch tucked away in the back corner of the living room, it took me at least 10 minutes to steady my breathing and 20 more to fully regain control of my body again but as soon as I did I ran out the house and to the nearest store, during the 15-minute walk he stared at me through dark windows and the backs of cars, peered out at me from gaps between leaves in the trees and bushes, he even followed me into the store staring at me from the middle of deserted isles before disappearing right before my eyes were able to fully catch him, once I finally got the candles I randomly picked four off of the shelves and rushed to the self checkout.
When I arrived home, I had 2 hours before Emma got off work. I didn't want to feed it while she was home, and I didn't want her to see it. I pulled out two of the candles from the black plastic bag and placed them on the kitchen table, the first a light blue candle named “Garden Rain” and the second a red candle named “Juicy Watermelon." I pulled out a lighter from one of the drawers Emma used after her stove stopped lighting on its own and lit each of the 6 wicks on the candles. As soon as I started seeing the wax melt under the heat of the burning wicks, I dropped the lighter onto the table next to the candles and ran out of the room. I could not stomach seeing that thing again; even just thinking about it made me shudder and hyperventilate. The paralyzing fear that seeing him caused me made me want to vomit.
At least 30 minutes later I started to hear it drink even though the living room and kitchen were separated by a wall, even though I had closed the door I could still hear what at first started as slurping sounds which were followed up by loud gulps, then it stopped, and once again 30 minutes later it started drinking, as the slurping started once again I heard the door to the apartment crack open, it was Emma, as she stepped through the door I saw her carrying two large brown paper bags of groceries in her hands, she was headed to the kitchen.
“Hey let me grab those for you”
I said running over to her, my voice shaking.
“Oh, thanks. Are you… okay, you look scared?”
My eyes shot wide open in a mixture of fear and surprise. I said the first thing that came to mind.
“Yeah just umm… I didn't expect you to come home so early and I got a bit spooked”
“shit sorry, I know I should have called you, work let me off early today,”
I started to turn away from her walking to the kitchen.
Trying to keep her away from the kitchen I told her to wait for me in the living room because I wanted to talk to her about something. I didn't know what I would talk to her about but that was a problem for future me to resolve, somehow it worked.
“What's that sound?”
She called out to me while walking towards the living room couch. It took me a few seconds to come up with an excuse.
“I think it’s the sink, or the pipes at least”
I opened the door to the kitchen with my eyes closed at first hesitant to look knowing what would be greeting me. slowly prying my eyes open I started to see its outline, my muscles started to lose strength as the details of the man came into my view, I felt the grocery bags start to slip from my arms, my knees buckled, face first I fell onto the kitchen floor scattering the groceries all over the floor, I mixture of a light scream and a yelp escaped from my mouth as my body made contact with the floor, Emma concerned for my safety ran into the kitchen, she didn't scream, using all of the strength and mobility I had left in my muscles I rolled over expecting to see her face drenched in terror, her body frozen still unable to move just like my body had done the first time that I saw him, but Emma looked concerned, the man was gone, she crouched down beside me.
“Oh my god are you ok? What happened?”
I looked around observing my surroundings.
“I um… I… I tripped on the little thing at the bottom of the doorframe”
I finally managed to blurt out another excuse, not being able to remember what the name of a door sill was. I started to sit up using a part of the energy that had returned to my body, pain pulsed through my chest and arms, Emma looked at me with a concerned face.
“You've been acting really weird since I got home, are you sure you're ok?”
“Yeah… I think I’m just having one of those days you know”
The confusion on Emma’s face said that she didn’t know and to be honest I didn't either, I guess my luck of pulling random excuses out of my ass ran out, Emma thought that she triggered some sort of PTSD response after barging into the house unannounced at first apologizing then trying to change the subject to stop my trembling which I was still unsuccessfully trying to hide from her.
“Did you buy candles?”
Emma asked picking the groceries apart from the garbage that spilled out the can that the man had knocked over, placing them on the table next to the now half-empty glass jars, the flames flickered above the inch or so of molten wax the man was unable to finish drinking.
“Yeah I’ve been struggling with work lately, they usually help me focus”
“Huh Interesting combination you’ve got going on here”
She looked at me and smiled slightly, I smiled back and chuckled to seem normal.
“Yeah even I don't know what I was trying to accomplish here, to be honest”
I tried to help Emma clean up the spilled groceries but she did not let me, she told me that I needed to recover like I had been in a car crash instead of having taken a little tumble. After a few seconds of silence, Emma spoke again.
“Anyway, what did you want to talk to me about earlier?”
A quick jolt of stress shot through my body, in a jumbled mess of lies and fear I had forgotten what I had told Emma, I sat there in silence for a few seconds unable to come up with an excuse
“I…umm… I don’t remember, it wasn't anything serious though”
“Damn did you hit your head too?”
She said once again proudly smiling at her joke.
At this point Emma picked up the last bag of potato chips from the floor and placed it on the table, then she opened the fridge and started loading the groceries into it.
“Anyway I gotta go get back to work’’
I blurted out after a few more seconds of awkward silence.
“Alright well good luck”
I walked over into the living room and sat down in front of my workstation, which now consisted of a laptop sitting on a small foldable TV tray that had just barely enough room left on it to fit a small USB mouse.
The last thing I remember, before I fell asleep, was me mindlessly scrolling through apartment listings while Emma watched a random 90’s horror movie I’m positive only had a budget of $500.
I woke up with a light stinging pain shooting through my dry throat, and a dim hissing sound caused by thousands of water drops striking the ground outside filled the room. I pressed the spacebar on my laptop, the brightness of the screen blinding me temporarily, after taking a few seconds to let my eyes readjust I managed to make out the time, 3:45 AM. A strong smell I was unable to make out the origin of assaulted my nostrils. Lavender.
The smell hitting my nose had the same effect on me that I would expect smelling salts would have on a weightlifter right before they set a world record. Before I knew it my legs were moving on their own at an almost uncontrollable pace, fighting back against my mind which was telling them to slow down after years of being used to navigating both mine and Emma’s apartment as steadily as possible to not bother the neighbors.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity I stood before Emma’s bedroom door, a faint, yellow, pulsating light radiated from a lamp and snuck out of a small gap between the door and the doorframe, reluctantly I pushed my left hand up against the door, my right hand grasping onto the door frame for a sense of stability, once the door was fully agape I scanned the inside of the room my heart skipping a beat for every humanoid shadow cast up onto the wall by the lights from the wicks which were set ablaze and were being slowly burnt away.
I walked into Emma’s room and made my way over to her bedside table to put out the candle, as I stepped closer towards her, her face became more defined, I could finally make out her features, she was awake, but no she could not have been, even though her eyes were wide open they never blinked, she didn't even move slightly, as I moved closer I finally managed to fully make out the expression of pure terror on her face, her mouth wide agape as if she was about to release a deafening screach, but she could not have, a single drop of solidified wax dribbled out of the corner of her mouth and clung to her cheek, my eyes traced the cream colored path back towards her mouth, first up her cheek then between the corner of her mouth and finally behind her teeth, there instead of her tongue or the roof of her mouth I saw a wall of wax which had filled in the entirety of her mouth.
I fell to my knees and hunched forward supporting my body weight with my arms, I was too late, I resisted the urge to vomit and got back up onto my feet, a mixture of tears and snot slid down my face and onto my lips, shaking now I slowly started limping over towards my phone which I had left on the couch next to where I had awoken just minutes before, just minutes before my life was destroyed because of my lies if I had just told Emma what I had gone through, if I had just told her what had happened on the night of the incident which now seemed trivial, even if she thought that I was crazy, I know that she would have complied just to make me feel comfortable.
It took me at least 30 seconds of repeated attempts to stabilize my hands enough to properly dial 911. “Someone broke into my apartment and hurt my friend” was the only reasonable explanation I could come up with that would not get the operator to hang up on me thinking that this was a prank call.
I sat there in the living room for an agonizing 10 minutes, crying, my sadness slowly transformed into anger towards myself, and my mind raced thinking of all the lies I’d told, I kept thinking that if I had just told her the truth she would not have been laying there in her bed, her body bloated, “every single orifice has signs of forced penetration and has been filled with what seems to be candle wax” is what was written on her autopsy report.
For a few days I was the main suspect in Emma’s murder, but due to the almost unstoppable crying and the unresponsive state that I was in when the police arrived, mixed with the lack of evidence of me having a way to produce 30 pounds of candle wax led to me being released out of police custody, but because I was the main suspect I was not told any details about what had fully happened to Emma, for days all I had to work off of was the image of her face frozen in terror, and a short glance I caught of her bloated body as she was being carted out on a stretcher.
I recounted every single word of our last conversations over and over again until they became permanently etched into my brain.
Emma’s parents originally wanted to cremate her, as that is what she had somewhat jokingly asked for whenever the topic of funerals came up, well she had joked about wanting to have had unpopped popcorn shoved down her throat before she was sent off to “scare the shit out of the guy cremating me” but due to all the wax which would have been impossible to get out of her body they were forced to bury her.
A few days before Emma’s funeral her body disappeared.
After Emma’s death, her parents took me into their home, after reading the autopsy reports and seeing her corpse they had thrown out every single candle they owned which made their home the safest choice I had, still, this did not stop me from buying a machete and keeping it under my bed, just in case.
I was laying on the bed in their guest bedroom The day that the police informed Emma’s parents about her disappearance, the bedroom is right above the front porch of the house, at first I heard them ring the doorbell which was followed up by 3 powerful knocks on the door, for about a minute I laid there on the bed listening to muffled voices exchanging distorted words I was barely able to make out which slowly transformed into distorted weeps, curious I lifted myself up from the bed, made my way over to the window and carefully lifted the bottom panel making Shure to not make too much noise, the distorted muffled sounds started forming into coherent words “We checked the security footage but the only strange thing we could see was a 5 second time jump” one of the officers spoke in a serious and almost monotone voice “which meant that the security guard who was the only person in the building had to climb down 2 flights of stairs walk through a 40 foot long hallway and then drag her body back up stairs and out of the building in 5 seconds” Emma’s mom let out yelp “ but don’t worry ma'am that’s actually good news because we know that her corpse is still somewhere within the building and was probably brought to the wrong floor by an intern, we’ve already warned all of the staff at the hospital to keep an eye out, and we also sent 5 officers to search the hospital”
I could not believe what I was hearing, my breathing quickened, but this time instead of fear I felt anger, that fucker stole her corpse and was probably in the weird separate plane of existence he always went back to after terrorizing me, cutting off chunks of her body, melting her, and drinking her.
I closed the window Emma’s mom's cries once again turned into a muffled rumble which was only possible to make out if you knew what to look for, I took a few steps back away from the window planning to lay back down, not wanting to bother Emma’s parents. I bumped into something, not something, someone, its fleshy towering form as solid as a wall sent me tumbling forward, I knew it was him, he had returned to take me too, to stretch his swollen cracked lips, push them down my esophagus, fill my lungs and stomach with wax. But despite all of that this time I was not scared, I was angry, and I was not going to stand there in terror like I had the last time I saw him.
I fell forward onto my knees my face missing the window sill just by mere inches, I put my hands onto the floor, lifted one of my knees, and rotated 180 degrees now facing the monster, to the right of him pushed up against the wall was the bed, light from the sun reflected off of the metallic button which kept my machete in it’s sheathe, the man started to stretch his lips, they were moving towards me, waving a wiggling through the air like a snake slithering towards me.
I dove towards the bed one of my feet pushing off of the floor and the other pushing against the wall which creaked under the pressure applied to it, I flew for a few moments before slamming down onto the carpet and sliding forward, the heat generated by my skin brushing against the carpet released a sharp stinging pain throughout my body, my outstretched arm landed just a few inches short of the machete, I quickly bent my arms, pushing my body up and crawled towards the machete. my fingers wrapped around the handle I spun around, my back pushed up against the bedside table, once again facing the man, he was still facing the window but his lips faced me and were just a few feet away from me, for what felt like minutes but was most likely no longer than a second, I struggled to hook my finger under the strap securing the machete into its sheath, as the lips inched towards me the man started producing gurgling noises, he was regurgitation wax.
I finally pulled the machete out of its sheath, I swung the blade at the man's lips, the blade was not met with any resistance as it sliced through the man’s lips which landed on the carpeted floor with an audible thud, the man did not have a physical reaction to my counter-attack, his lips kept creeping towards me, once again I slashed at the lips, still no reaction, I repeated this at least 3 more times.
I wanted to kill him, I wanted to take revenge for what he had done to Emma, but fighting back was pointless. I realized that no matter how much I tried to hurt it, I could not kill him, I could not get rid of him.
My rage dissipated and a mixture of fear and sadness crept in, and soon took over my body, I screamed for help, I screamed in fear, in agony, tears streamed down my face as the man's lips finally reached my face, he wasn’t met with any resistance as his lips snuck between mine, pried my jaw open and finally started to slide down my esophagus.
I heard the cops run up the stairs, they started banging on the door asking if I was okay only to have been met with muffled screams, hot wax started to pour down inside of me, the stinging pain of the heat made me want to plunge the machete which I had dropped onto the ground next to me into my stomach to create a gaping wound that the wax would hopefully funnel out of, the texture of the man's slippery, oily lips matched with the poison like flavor of the wax caused me to start gagging, I felt my insides bulging like at any moment my intestines would have been filled to the point where they would pop, I wanted to vomit, the drain myself of the filth I was filled with, but his lips had plugged my throat not allowing anything to get out.
Hearing my muffled screams the cops started kicking the door down, the man retracted his lips, the suction aided my attempts at cleansing my insides, I got onto my hands and knees streams of molten wax pouring out of me, solidifying on the the carpet, with another loud thud the door swung open slamming into the wall, the man was gone.
That’s the last thing I remember before I passed out, but according to one of the doctors who was in the ambulance that brought me to the hospital, I was still semi-responsive during the first 10 minutes of the ride to the hospital.
Approximately 13.4 pounds of wax were removed from my body, the doctors said that I was in a critical condition and some of them did not expect me to make it.
One of the officers who was there the day the man attacked me took a report of what had happened to me, due to the unmistakable evidence of what had happened to both me and Emma, and the fact that this was the 3rd instance of me reporting something like this the police finally started investigating who this man might have been.
Around a month later I was discharged from the hospital and once again have been staying in the living room of Emma’s parent's house.
I’ve been seeing the man again, candles were not allowed in the hospital I stayed at, which means that he’s probably very hungry, he’s close to attacking me again, I know it, he wants to finish what he started and I don't know if I have the power to fight back, I’m not sure if defeating him is even possible, I’m tired.
I’ve been seeing Emma too, her bloated, reanimated corpse often appears to be standing next to the man. If I let him take me will I get to join them? I’ve tried asking but they don’t answer, they just stare, I can’t keep living in constant fear, always looking over my shoulder, I miss Emma.

This is my first script. Please be kind. If it sucks, it sucks, but I had fun writing it nonetheless.
Please link me if you use/fill it. I would love to hear your take on it. Free to monetize, Youtube, Patreon, whatever, I just want to hear it. :)
Please give me credit: RE: My Darling / Remy Darling

Scene setter: Italics
SpeakeVA: Bold text with "quotes" outside of the sentence/phrases
Internal monologue: Bold/italics
Action of character or SFX: ((Double Parenthesis))
Response from a character: ((pause))

Speaker: You are Killian James a.k.a. Hook. Your eyes are the color of the sea, your hair is dark as night, and you are dashing, troubled, and flirtatious. The lilt of an accent gives you a melodic tone, and your personality is dark, playful, and direct. You are comfortable in three-piece suits, and are a dangerous man with many secrets.
Listener: Your name is Wendy. Your friends have convinced you to go to a bar downtown in the more dangerous part of the city due to rumors, only they end up bailing without you. You are going to go home after you finish your drink. The bar is called Never Land, Where, according to your friends rumors, the owner is a mysterious man that they all seem fascinated with. Apparently, he is tall, dark, and handsome – a devil of a man that goes by a strange name. They call him… Hook.

((SFX – The club is above this basement 'torture chamber' area-you can hear the music of the club playing muffled. The basement area is clean and not dungeon-y but is more of a modern torture chamber with drains for easy ah… clean up))
SCENE: There is a man chained/tied up. Hook enters the room, looking almost bored that he needs to be there. He takes off his jacket, handing it to one of his henchmen, leaving the vest on, before he unbuttons his cuffs and starts rolling the sleeves up.
“I’m not pleased that our shipment is late, Mr. Jukes. It was supposed to arrive on a super yacht named the ‘Jolly Roger’ today with a bunch of rich snobs who were none the wiser. Your men guaranteed me that it would arrive with the staff and be loaded off on the dock shortly after, however, that is yet to come to fruition, and I am not a patient man.”
((SFX: VA puts on leather gloves, stretches fingers and gets comfortable in them))
“I am aware that they have taken a detour due to a storm, Jukes – but your mismanagement of my time, and my money, are not to be forgotten. Bad form, Jukes! Bad form!”
((SFX: dragging knife sound – //our character uses a tactical Hook knife. It’s typically for gutting deer – not really necessary to know, it’s just to flesh out the character for you//, Hook approaches slowly))
“I know it won't happen again. Don’t worry, Jukes, since this is your first time having erred with me, I shall simply leave you with a small reminder. I expect the shipment to be directed to our port swiftly, otherwise, I won’t be nearly as lenient again.”
((SFX chains straining, screaming that becomes muffled screaming, as Hook takes his knife and leaves the man with a Cheshire Grin/Glasglow Smile up one side of his face, heavy breathing for a moment, as he returns and throws his knife down on the table))
“Get me my other three-piece suit from my office and a clean shirt. I’ve got this bastard’s blood all over me. He's not to be given his freedom until I hear that the shipment has come in from the Jolly Roger. If it does not go to plan – we will have to take further, more drastic actions and I don’t want to have to find this cad, Mr. Jukes, again. Do I make myself clear?”
((henchmen answer))
“Good.”
((SFX – him pulling off the leather gloves and getting changed))
“One of you stay here and watch him. Tonight I’ll be on the club floor. I’m not to be interrupted until The Crocodile has made contact. Is that understood?”
((pause))
“Good. That is all.”
((he leaves))

((SFX – transition to this however you like))
\*modern day, bar scene/sounds (*no* jazz or classical music - it's a nightclub), people mingling in the background. In enters our VA/Hook.*

“Tinkerbell, pour me my usual, will you, dear?”
((Tink is quick, and slides him his drink. Sip, sigh, and pause as he looks around)) (( This internal thought is not necessary but if you want to, go for it ))
\*internal thought*\** Who’s this? Oh my, sweet lamb, you are definitely in the wrong place.
“Tink, one last thing, could you possibly tell me anything about that young woman there? The one in light blue.”
((listening intently for a moment))
“Hm. Lovely. Thank you, dear.”
((SFX – he puts down his drink, footsteps/fine Italian leather shoes approaching the young lady who is at the bar))
“Well, well, well… Isn’t that a beautiful dress on an even more beautiful woman. That color of blue really suits you. You… are a piece of art. A fascinating and intriguing piece of art. However, you don’t quite seem like you belong here.”
((pause))
“Someone as divine as you, as *innocent* as you, dressed as you are, doesn’t really seem to fit in. Not in this kind of place. You look more like you would fit in one of the high-class jazz lounges uptown. Martinis, a piano player, velvet couches and the like. Do you think that you fit in amongst these gentlemen of fortune and these women dressed in their slinky club clothes? Look around, do you see the patrons here?”
((short pause as she looks around))
“Don’t you see? You are simply dressed too elegantly for a place like this. No, you, my dear, are definitely not the type that belongs amongst these fiends. You belong uptown. Not here, amongst the dregs of society like us. Your mannerisms are too graceful, you walk with pride and your chin up – this is not the body language of one of my people.”
((pause))
“Well, I happen to own this establishment, Never Land, so I am rather familiar with the likes of the people who tend to come through its doors, and I have never seen you before. You seem quite unforgettable. Could I have the pleasure of having your name?”
((pause))
“Wendy… What a lovely name for such a lovely woman. Well, Wendy, darling – my name is Killian. My friends call me Hook.”
((pause))
“So many questions! What an inquisitive slip of a thing you are. Perhaps, we could talk over a drink?”
((*VA snaps fingers* Bartender Tinkerbell approaches immediately and waits)) ((ListeneWendy begins to decline))
“Don’t fret, darling. It’s just a drink. Should you find yourself not interested in our conversation or in me, you are more than welcome to leave and go back uptown to the *safe* areas of the city, where the likes of people like me and my ilk will be of no bother to you ever again. But should I pique your interest, perhaps allow me the grace of your presence again in the future.”
((pause))
“Just one drink. And nothing more.”
((ListeneWendy accepts))
“Delightful! Tink, if you could get us another round. One of whatever the lady was drinking, and my usual.”
((short pause as he takes her in before sighing and leaning in closer to speak to her))
“Darling, do tell me, why have you wandered into the seedy underbelly of our city? What is it exactly that you are searching for? Mystery? Intrigue?"
((whispers // into her ear))
"...*Danger*?”
((VA leans back and there is a sly curling of his lips into a crooked smile))
“Mm, that blush really does make me think that you truly are as innocent as I originally thought, Darling. Albeit, I am sure you knew what kind of danger you could get into coming to a place like this. You may be looking for danger, but it seems danger has found you instead.”
((pause))
“Oh, yes, danger. There is plenty of danger here. However, it seems like that’s something you seem to be searching for. Should I inquire as to –“
((VA leans in once more))
“What *kind* of danger you are looking for? See, Darling, that’s the thing about danger… You may only want a little but you never truly know how much you’re going to get.”
((pause))
((VA - practically whispered across her lips or ear, you imagine how close you want to get))
“Ah, yes, Wendy, darling. I happen to be very… Very… Dangerous.”
((Listener steps back))
((he gives a low chuckle))
“Do I … make you … Nervous?”
((short pause and VA steps forward as Listener shakes her head defiantly))
“Or perhaps, I am not the kind of danger you are looking for?”
((closer))
“Do you even *know* what you are looking for, my little lamb?”
((dangerously close to her))
((pause))
((drinks come at this time delivered by Tink – VA returns to less invasive persona))
"Ah, thank you, Tink. You’ve impeccable timing. Shall we? I’d love to take this to a VIP booth I prefer to sit in. It will give us a little more privacy and won’t be as loud. Come now, pet."
((footsteps/music/whatever SFX have them move to a slightly quieter place, sit in a booth))
"Do you mind, Darling? I’d much rather be sitting next to you than across the table. That way I can hear you better. Yes, that’s it, just move in a little further."
((this gives no escape for Listener as James/Hook is between the easy exit and her – SFX of her moving over if you want to get technical and him sitting next to her))
((pause))
“Ah, *that*. The name Hook… It is simply from a childhood long ago. Raised in an orphanage with many other lost boys like myself. It’s a truly heartbreaking story, I’m sure, but I’d like you to remember our first meeting in a different light. Not melancholy and deep, dark secrets. Not yet, anyway. Perhaps, if you decide to embark on a journey with me in the future, or are willing to grace me with your presence again, we can discuss it then.”
((Listener nods, nervously))
((he leans in))
“But you, Wendy, darling –“
((whispered // reaches out to draw a finger down her jawline as he looks from her eyes to her mouth))
“You still haven’t answered me.”
((pause))
“About what *kind* of danger you are looking for…”
((pause // leaning in))
“Are you looking for something – just a wee bit threatening? Perhaps something that will get the heart pumping momentarily?”
((pause // leaning in))
“Or perhaps, a singular thrilling night before the sun rises and the fun is over?”
((pause // leaning in))
“Or… are you looking for something darker? Something much more dangerous. Something soul shattering that will devour you whole? Something that makes you question your morals… Your boundaries… Something that will burn you to ash and will leave you begging me for more even once I break you?”
((kisses Wendy))
“Do you know what kind of danger you want yet, darling? That last one… It is not a wise idea for a sweet little lamb like you, but I promise... You’ll love it.”

Hey guys, welcome to the WACESMP! I'm or GoneVegan, one of the members of this Australian Minecraft server. We are currently running 1.20.4.
B R I E F

• approaching 6 Months old
• various quality of life datapacks
• Dynmap: https://map.mc.wacesafe.xyz/
• DiscordSRV Discord/Minecraft chat integration: Talk to players in-game from discord!
• various administrative and QoL plugins
• Simple Voice Chat
• Survival
• Whitelisted
• Hard difficulty
• 6GB RAM
• Java + Bedrock crossplay

V I S I O N
The WACESMP is a place for people who love survival Minecraft. Ideally, we can use this to plan out and create some amazing areas and builds. If you like to spend time in the details, or enjoy large scale building, or just want to spend some time playing good old survival; this might be the place for you 🙂
A B O U T (From the owner Blockbuster206)
I have been a fan of Minecraft for about as long as i was a child, and it's been pretty much the only game I've played growing up. As a player, I really enjoy taking my time and enjoying each moment of a game, which is why I decided to set up this long-term server with no planned world resets.
I have participated in a few survival Minecraft SMPs over the last couple of years and I'm keen to give back and create a new community around this fantastic game.
R U L E S (generalised)
• Be mature
• Be respectful
• Be considerate
• No Griefing, Stealing, Cheating etc.
This server is open to everyone. I want it to be a safe place. All rules and respective consequences will be enforced at the discretion of myself and any moderators to the best of our ability.
J O I N
Please read through the previous sections first! Here are the steps you need to take to apply.
Join the Discord, open a ticket and our staff will review your application and get you online. Feel free to give us a ping if there's a delay or any issues. Please don't contact us on Reddit, it is better to send a address the issue on discord; we don't check messages here very often.
Here is the discord link: https://discord.gg/U9mH2UCMMx
We are excited to see you all in our lovely minecraft community
Post #12 19/05/2024