Where top get my mcdonals paystub

hi guys, i am in grade 10th, and 2 years later i want to apply for a foreign university. rn i am so confused, as i didnot know where should i go and what i should choose for my major in the near future. i have some options in my mind: America( its quite hard to get scholarship and of course expensive, but the education is very good ) Canada or Australia ( maybe this two options are easier and my family can afford it ) China ( i am studying chinese as well, and i am into some top universities here, but both my parents are skeptical if studying in china is really worthy) Finland or Netherland or Switzerland ( i have not found out much about three regions but s.o tell me, if i choose to study and work for a long time here , its not so tough and maybe its much more stable ) . Another important thing is what i should choose for my major, i am quite good at communication skills, networking or sth need to be flexible to adapt . in short i am such an outgoing person and i want to find a major can allow me to communicate, to have chance working with another people. i have found out about some major like international relations but i still cannot imagine what will i do after graduating . i do not know what i should do while i can realize my strong points. i need all of your help, your opinion about countries and major i should choose. i am still a newbie and am waiting for your replies( my post maybe a bit long as i am so confused rn ) ! Thanks guys

Hey guys! Low plat newish jungler here. I know this might be one of those questions where the answer is just "yeah, you're fucked" but it comes up so often and I never know what to do.
Here's the scenario: first grubs just came up, dragon is still up. I've just finished my 2 topside camps and gotten level 5 plus a bit more. None of my lanes have prio at all. My tracking tells me that their jungler is probably top, heading towards grubs. All of my camps are down. It kinda feels like a checkmate. Below is what I've tried and why they failed.

1. Gank top or mid. I'd love to based on the wave state, but their jungler is also around and will counter gank and win.
2. Start grubs. This is the worst option and gets me killed every time for obvious reasons.
3. Recall and try to sneak drag. This works way more often than grubs but it can't be actually right, since mid and bot can just roam over and kill me
4. Recall and gank bot. This is fine but usually by the time I get there my laners are too low hp to help, or their bot lane has shoved a wave and recalled.
5. Do nothing. Give up on both grubs and drag, Recall and walk over to my botside camps and wait 30s~ for them to respawn.

What's the right play? One of these or something else? Thanks in advance

TCAP:
5 Marvin Lakhan: This guy is way more fucked up than people realize because he seemed completely normal. John Kennelly is more popular due to his iconic voice/phrases and getting caught at McDonalds but Marvin is seriously fucked up. He wanted the decoy to fuck the cat with him watching, had graphic instructions that he definitely knew from viewing bestiality porn, and wanted to have sex with the decoy on her parents bed and in every room so she would never forget how he violated her. He tries to play it off like he was just joking and even Chris calls him out on how explicit his bestiality thing was. Tried to claim he wasn’t gonna go ‘all the way’ despite stripping naked in order to fulfill a deal so the decoy would do sex acts with a cat. Kennelly seemed to have brain trauma or some developmental issues which I think helped contribute to his deviancy but Marvin is 100% aware the entire time what he’s doing and unlike Wunderler who might have had the slightly more explicit bestiality chat (the PJ decoy said she had nightmares for years due to how horrible it was and it’s like a top 5 slimy I think on the PJ website). Fucking weird guy who needed way more time imo. I don’t think he’s reoffended but he needed serious help.
4 Lorne Armstrong: classic Lorne, can’t even win a list he’s rightfully on. I think basically everyone knows mostly everything about Lorne but the fact he’s only 4 on this list should tell you how bad it gets. genuinely believed he was in a committed, serious, albeit highly toxic, controlling and unhealthy relationship with a 13 year old girl. His chat is fucking disgusting. He gets jealous over Kayla’s dad’s corvette stating it ‘didn’t have his penis’. Called his dick Mr. Penis, raged over a made up 13 year old ex boyfriend. It’s just so disturbing and so apparent Lorne is highly sick and still to this day has never fully accepted responsibility, resulting in him becoming the community lolcow.
3 Walter Babst: this may seem strange given it’s not Rutherford who actually taught the age ranges of the decoy, but something about Babst just disturbs me so much. His chat genuinely is one of the only ones that made me near sick to my stomach and I’ve read part of Wunderlers. It’s so gross how he de ages all of his terms, he seems genuinely upset she started her period, obviously implying he wanted to be able to cum in her without consequences which is fucking horrific. He treats her like a doll and commands her what to wear, and the worst part of all of it is Babst is a smart guy. He immediately knew he was caught and going to be arrested, and that what he was doing was wrong. He obviously had been tortured by these demons for so long and finally couldn’t resist and decided he was going to do it. What’s even more disturbing is the guy was highly over qualified apparently to teach high school and is one of the only predators to ever have a better life after getting caught. He works at still and I believe is a manager or upper management at an engineering/physics firm I think? So did he become a teacher to sort of sate the desire? Maybe he was at the phase were merely creeping on his freshmen female students and catching some inappropriate down shirt glances or gross butt staring was enough to get him off.
2 Chuck Harding: truthfully, this guy and the piece of shit at #1 are so close in how horrible and disturbing they are it almost doesn’t matter. The decoy said they’re glad Chuck is dead and most of society should be as well. He was a serial groomer, likely rapist of multiple unreported boys. He told the decoy that he could be his grandpa, he wanted to go to Disney with the decoy in public and pretend that Chuck was his grandpa. He lived in Anaheim near Disney and I can only imagine the depraved shit Chuck did living that close it was NOT a coincidence. A disturbing, completely child porn brain rotted husk of a human who seriously had no qualms with what he was doing and even gets defensive and almost confrontational with Chris. If that was it I’d argue he’s still in my top 10 but then they find not only did he have CSAM, he had tons of it, mountains of it. Not only THAT, but some of it was dated back like 35 years old. NOT ONLY THAT, it was discovered that basically for that length of time Chuck had been a part of a CSAM exchange and honestly probably creation ring. An absolute monster, truly probably the worst person they ever caught, and again you can swap Chuck with #1 if that’s how you feel. Chuck’s segment is almost not even funny just like the next guy because of how absolutely disturbing and sick these men were.
1 James Wiles: Who else. Now comes down to your individual morality of what’s more horrific, being a 40 year long pedophile participating in a CSAM exchange and again probably also creation ring, or allowing your own flesh and blood daughters to not only be raped by yourself, but your sick brother as well. It’s just beyond the pale for so many predators, because it’s real. His daughters have done interviews I’m pretty sure and they said when he died they celebrated, that one of them had to take a picture and she keeps it to know he’s actually dead. Just a complete and utter piece of trash who I am genuinely happy is dead and if hell exists he is there. Horrific, disturbing, he’s like Westerbeck the improved edition.
Dishonorable Mention slotting between #2 and #3 imo is JPW. He’s just too fucking funny for me to put here but his life is insane and he did some horrible stuff, definitely could be on here had some of these other guys not been worse.
HVP/Takedown
5 Brian: This one will be short because outside of the stuff I want to really talk about he doesn’t have a lot of personality but something so he’s going at #5 below the next guys. This dude openly admitted to having had sex with multiple minors prior to the sting and ultimately what gets him on here is he is wearing and always wears the necklace one of his victims gave him, and it definitely seemed like he wore it for his own sick pleasure.
4 Donnie: This interaction is a top 10 of all time in my book. Takedown has a lot of stinkers and boring interviews and stings because there’s no long form decoy work, but wow, this guy and Brian, also caught in this sting are just doozies to me. Donnie wanted a dad to basically pimp his own daughter out to him, have the dad watch him fuck his daughter, then engaged in sex acts with the father and then all three of them would have sex together. He openly admits in the decoy interaction to an undercover cop posing as the father he’d done this exact scenario before or something similar and is sickeningly smug and ‘kind’ to the decoy portraying the kid. He states that parents should ‘be more involved’ in their children’s sexual development and exploration that it was good the father was going to participate in the rape of his own 13 year old daughter. His interview with Chris is no less shocking as he just further admits that he’s done it before and enjoyed it. Absolutely insane interaction.
3 Michael Gentile (or Popovich): These guys are almost the same in my book, slightly different flavors of disturbing and perverted old men. I’ll focus on Gentile. Just a fucking creep pedo who definitely had done this before, wanted to film child porn in his hotel room, only lived an hour away so why did he need a room? Very, VERY adept at grooming and knew instantly it was a sting when he entered. Calls his wife the witch and expects her to bail him out. His texts and voice mails and phone calls are absolutely vile and just pure filth. Really disturbing. Perhaps could be swapped with Donnie but something about the way he speaks, his confrontational nature with detectives despite having one of the grossest chat logs and decoy encounters, his evasiveness, just makes me rank him higher.
2 Jesse Velez: a bit of a cop out because it’s disturbing how this interaction went and how fucking smug this dumbass was realizing that Chris wasn’t really prepared. He is disgusting also no doubt. He wanted a 13 year old boy to live with him and ‘no one would find out’. It’s so disturbing realizing just how manipulative and sick these guys are the second they aren’t 10000% nailed to the wall. He gets arrested and all still but I would kill to see the world where Chris has the full chat and can obliterate this smug, condescending idiot.
1 Steven Buchanan: Who else (again). A short one cause his chat isn’t super outrageous, he’s relatively young, but the most disturbing thing about him is the ‘what if’ scenario. This guy looked unhinged. I don’t know why, if it was the military, if it was just something else that broke him, but this guy was dangerous without a shadow of a doubt. I don’t believe the items that constituted the kill kit were together, like in a bag, but even having those items is highly concerning. Really disturbing to watch and think about the horrible possibility of a real girl had been persuaded to leave her house and get into this psycho’s car.

Apologies in advance, I’ve no real people to tell this to, and it’s been weighing on my mind forever.
We met on an online chat room and started dating approximately 5 months ago, and at the very beginning it was fantastic. We were the same age, liked the same things, had the same humour and pursued the same field of academia. We were long distance, both science students, and we had made plans to someday move in with one another. Since she lived in the US and I in the UK, she stringently made it clear she couldn’t come to me, and that was fine. She had to take care of her mother and I offered to help her irregardless of the cost to me. When you’re in love with someone, your own needs pale compared to the other person. Because of how good it was, she would voice how she feared I’d ever leave her and I reassured her countless times that I would never, that I’d always love her. One of her friends, we'll call O, and I spoke and he was worried that because of her relationship, she’d be more preoccupied with me instead of their friendship and I reassured him that it didn’t matter what she did, their friendship was valuable to both of them and I wouldn’t stand in the way of it.
However a month in, and she began to change considerably. She became noticeably different, where we’d call every night, she began calling every 2 nights, or 3, and less frequently too. Her mood around me would change drastically, and she said it was because of a fatigue illness she had. And that was ok, I let it happen. People can be sick, right? That’s fine, as a partner I would be there for her. Some days she found it difficult to communicate the fact she loved me at all, and told me not to say it a lot since she couldn’t feel that way back at the time.
She would drive me to the point of hurting myself, she knew how much the promises of us living together meant to me, so she would sometimes say that she didn’t want that anymore. And all the time I felt dreadful. I blamed myself for it all, was I not doing enough? I had sent her almost £2,000 of my own money since she said she was poor. She knew how to get it out from me too, she would exploit my generous nature by saying she didn’t want it, but when I offered she would brighten up and shower me with the words she previously said she couldn’t. She also, crucially, told me not to say a word about our relationship to any of our immediate friends. She said that she didn’t want our relationship details to split apart a small friend group (that included O, who I'd been sent photos where he derided me and said that it wasn't fair that she talked to me more than him - which I forgave since he might've had the wrong impression or something).
One night, she had an episode and snapped at me, saying that we’d break up because she couldn’t be a partner to me anymore. She said it was unfair how I would move over to her, knowing she couldn’t do the same to me. And I stayed and comforted her, I was determined to salvage it because I genuinely loved her with all my heart. That night, she was rushed to the hospital because of the episode, and I was terrified. I stayed with her all night, didn’t sleep at all because of the difference in time zones, and I sent her money for the cab back. And the next day, she said it was a mistake breaking up with me and that she wanted to stay together because she still loved me. I was overjoyed.
Then, she became even more distant. She would find small things in my mannerisms and call me out on them, such as me making jokes or not understanding certain things about life. One incident got so bad I had to leave the call midway because of how she would rant and curse me out for simply not understanding the subject matter we were discussing. Then, one day, we were in a collective call with the aforementioned friend group, and she barely paid me any notice, mostly interacting with O and ignoring me completely. I sent her a message where all I did was ask about how she was, and she broke it off again, this time for good. During the time we got back together, I had sent her another ~£300.
The next few weeks are a blur, since several instances of my personal life started going south. I had finals coming up, a pillar of my community had passed away, my mother had been found to have a tumor in her uterus, my two siblings and my father both got sick - all of this on top of the excruciating pain of a break up.O was messaging me, saying how lucky I was to have had her to begin with and that I somehow met her standards in a way to comfort me. She kept reiterating she wanted us to be friends, and a part of me still loved her. I'm someone who tries to see the good in everyone, so I made up excuses to forgive her. I think she knew about this, because she'd send me memes with captions like "where my hug at" and so on. So I told her about my situation, and she pressed about information about my mother. I told her I mentally wasn't prepared to handle any of these, since I was in a pit of my own sorrow, but she pressed. Once I told her, she alleged I faked the entire thing. She said that when we were dating, she'd noticed "inconsistencies" about my statements (but for some reason never brought them up) then attempted to hammer in the fact I was a liar by stating that the details I had given surrounding diagnostic criteria and the treatment methods were widely different to what she knew - irrespective of the fact that we both lived in different countries.
Once I asked her to bring up the inconsistencies she mentioned, she did, and I debunked them instantly. One such as how whenever she argued back with me I always changed my opinions to match hers, which I said was because I'm genuinely not an argumentative person and would prefer not to argue with someone I cared so much about. She said that the chill attitude I had suddenly changed when it was revealed someone was verbally abusing her - as if it wasn't my responsibility at the time to defend my GF.
I sent her proof of everything, but she ignored. She said that if I couldn't justify why I was so supposedly inconsistent surrounding my own mother's potential cancer, she'd cut me off for good, and she gave me a day. Bearing in mind that I had told her multiple times I wasn't in the best space of mind to talk about any of this, and despite the fact that we lived in different countries. She refused to take any of these explanations.
So, I opened up to a friend about her abusing me, he then told someone (L) he trusted about how she was abusive to me and the response was immediate. L must've shared what I said to her friends, and I was shown L saying that there was no way my ex could ever have done any of these things. Within an instant, O was screaming in my DMs about how horrible of a person I was to even insinuate she had abused me, and he took measures to get me removed from every one of our communities despite him even admitting it was wrong.
To put icing on the shit covered cake this was, immediately after our breakup, everything she said she couldn't do when we were in a relationship, she was doing to O behind my back. She was video calling him on the regular, telling him aspects about our relationship, showing him our private messages behind my back despite her vehemently insisting to me not to do that exact thing.
Nobody came to me for my side of the story, simply because nobody believed she could ever do such a thing, and I was punished for merely speaking out about my abuse to people I believed I could trust.

This is for the guy trying to say not to give money to homeless people flying a sign. This my personal experience from being homeless in Wilmington. I can't say as I speak for everyone, just my experience. 

I'm still homeless, but I've moved out of Wilmington. I had to teach myself how to read and write all over again, and this is what I do now. I hope you enjoy.

 Six-thirty am, I woke up to my alarm. I had to be at work at nine, and I didn't want to be frazzled from being in panic mode on my first day, hurried, and hassled. No, sir. You don't get too many chances to make a first impression. 

 Rolled out of my sleeping bag with a smooth, well practiced motion, unzipped the flap, and made my way out into brisk spring morning air, taking a brief pause, taking in the natural beuaty of the forest. If it hadn't been for the sounds of the highway a few hundred yards away, this scene could have been from a camping trip or hike that I remembered from days gone by. I didn't pause to think about too long due to the urgency to find a suitable tree to relieve myself. Fifty feet, at least. Fifty feet. Otherwise, that smell could come back to haunt you. This wasn't a camping trip but rather where I lived. My homestead, abode, residence, shelter, and as far as I could tell, it would be for a long time to come. 

 I decided to drink my energy drink, which had come to replace my morning cup of brew, outside this fine morn, so I made my way back to the tent and pulled my Monster can and my half full box of handrolled cigarettes from their hiding places, turned around and walked the fifteen feet to my "visiting bench". Aptly named because that's where we all sat when someone came visiting, which wasn't very often, a few feet in front was the small firepit. A hundred or so yards beyond, down a respectable hill, sat Frankies tent, another fifty yards at the split in the trail was Chris's small pup tent, where a small pile of trash meant that Chris and I needed to talk. This was my site, and I had few rules, and trash was something I didn't want to see. 

 According to the rules out here, our social contract, the first person at a campsite was in charge and I had spent the last month of winter all alone here to earn the right to call the shots. After all, it was deemed The Allen Compound for the Criminally Insane by my friend who led a real boots on the ground street outreach in town, someone that I had insane respect for and not a small bit of love. We weren't. I won't speak to insane. 

 I took a seat on the bench, popped the top on the Monster, lit up a smoke, and took a big long pull of the drink. Spring was starting to show now, and the highway was slowly starting to hide behind the new growth of forest. My tent was already invisible from the road thanks to a large camouflaged tarp that I had strung to block the view once I recovered from the panic attack following the discovery of how visible it once was. That discovery came not long after I set up camp, as I was returning from town. Walking down the shoulder of the highway, I just happened to look up in the direction of my camp and saw that my tent sat in the middle of a big clearing of branches, making a perfect frame for my work of art. The realization that thousands of people could have seen that on a daily basis. I was live bait for any psychotic person or persons to visit on a full moon. Recalling the stories of people setting sleeping people on fire for the fun of watching a human cook, I instantly turned on my heels and headed back into town, a spy who just realized he'd been compromised. I didn't return until I had a tarp, but even then, it was some time before sleep came easy. 

 Seven am and the spring sun were now spreading its rays of love to its children in the forest undergrowth, letting everything know it was day shift now in the kingdom. Down below, I spied Frankie, who piled out of his tent and sprinted to a tree like his bladder had caught fire. At the sight of this, I barked three times in greeting. He threw his head back and made a rooster crow, knowing it would wake Chris up long enough to feel the urgency. And by the time I stood up finish the last bit of my morning nectar, sure enough, scrambled out of his tent and instantly let it go right beside where his head would lay when he slept. I shook my head and trudged to my place to change clothes. A light blue polo type short sleeve tucked neatly into my cleanest pair of jeans, then a long sleeve light flannel over that as a precaution, because a lesson learned early is that you dressed for all day. There was no going home to get a coat when the temps plummeted, so it was wise to have that coat ready at all times. I changed my socks, put on my shoes and out of the flap I went. I closed it up and placed a pine needle inside the zipper that would let me know when I got back if anyone had violated my space. 

Seven ten am, and I was on my way. I had fourty minutes to be at the bus stop a little over a mile from the camp and I didn't want to be late, so off I went down the trail, just past Frankies tent I took a left, pausing just long enough to notice that Chris had gone back to bed and left his flap door open, then another fifty yard and over the fence to what I referred to as the 'exposed zone'. There, I was out of the woods walking down a small trail hidden only from the waist down by overgrown weeds and grass. The exposed zone went about a hundred and fifty yards to the shoulder of the highway, where I would merge left, facing the oncoming traffic. At that point, it wouldn't be so obvious to passing cars that I had just emerged from the woods, and the exact spot would no doubt be a mystery. There, my pace stepped up to an average of four miles an hour, something that I had clocked many times, and these days, it was a knowledge that came in handy. I could deal with being homeless, but not tardy. Every minute I walked along the shoulder of the highway, I was fraught with danger, at least in my overactive brain. I could envision cars swerving to miss the car ahead and turning me into a hood ornament, or blowing a tire and taking me out when the driver loses control for that half a second. Maybe something would fall out of the many dump trucks that passed frequently at seventy miles an hour and cleanly decapitate me before I even saw it coming. Why not? It's not like I was having a good luck streak, let's be honest. 

Seven fifty am and I managed to make it to the bus stop with all my organs just where they should be and my head still attached to my body. I lit up a smoke and fished three quarters out of my pocket, ready to pay my way and go to work. The bus pulled up on time, and I climbed aboard, nodding to the driver in solidarity, one working man to the other, dropped my coins of passage into the box, turned and found an empty seat by the window. I watched as the scenery went from historical homes with their gates and carefully tended lawns to the brown crabgrass and dirt yards where the children played in poverty, then to the blocks of businesses where hopes and dreams were born and died, with their big banners proclaiming another last chance at big savings, or let you know that for the twentieth time this furniture store was going out of business and these prices wouldn't last. Nothing but a higher class of a carnival barker. Free financing, limited time only, no interest for ninety days, credit same as cash, act now, last chance to save, overstocked and marked down, employee pricing, never before savings, trade ins welcome, don't miss out, and my all time favorite, below wholesale. Imagine that a business surviving by losing money. The saddest part of it all is that these tactics worked on people. For the second time that morning, I shook my head. 

Eight thirty eight am and the doors open at my destination, my job site, half the bus stood up to depart. Standing up and slipping No. 7 onto my shoulders, I let the line shuffle past me with the knowledge that I had time to spare 

 Eight forty, I stepped off the bus, gravitating to have a smoke with a small group of like-minded people who nodded their approval as I approached. The signal that I was accepted in the circle of debauchery. I made it clear, though, that I had no time to make small talk because I had to go to work and I was a responsible person. On time, it was late, and ten minutes early was on time. That was my motto, starting now, at least. Eight fourty five am I started to the job site, feeling the anxiety butterflies come to life in the pit of my stomach. I had never done this sort of work before, and I hoped I would catch on quick. 

 Eight fifty am, and I was standing beside the exit lane of the Walmart Superstore on a patch of grass where the stopsign was planted, dropping No. 7 to the earth. I bent over and unzipped the section that contained the piece of cardboard. As I put my fingers on it, I felt emotions pour over me, a mixture of shame, embarrassment, and determination. This was my third try at this, but I was determined not to chicken out this time, so, choking everything back down I pulled the sign from my bag and turned to face the cars coming up to the stop sign so I could show them the story of my life, condensed down to some scribbles from a Sharpie which read, 'Traumatic Brain Injury' in large lettering, with a smaller, 'Please Help' below. I'd never felt so alone as I did in that spot light that day at Walmart, that my life had led me to this point, here with a sign begging for money from strangers to get things I needed. It seemed like I couldn't even breathe with my phone service cut off, as I still felt sure that my son would call me at any minute to see how I was, and knowing that life line was severed was unbearable. 

 A grey van with a logo pulled up to the stop sign and I heard one of the doors open, then close, so I turned around to see someone jogging up to me, holding out his hand with a twenty dollar bill pinched in his fingers, "Here you go, brother. Take care of yourself, my man, "then back to the van and was gone. 

I broke. Just like that. I broke.

I sit alone in my room on the seventh floor, writing what will surely be my last will and testament. The heroin which allowed me to forget and to sleep for the last couple of years has lost its power to keep the screaming terrors away. The drug destroyed my body and mind, gradually eating away at them like a corrosive acid. Now I have become a slave to it. And yet, without it, I do not sleep for weeks, but instead continuously see the scenes from that terrible night running through my head on repeat as worsening waves of madness crash on the shores of my consciousness.
In the caverns under the town of Frost Hollow, I found the meaning of true madness. Ever since I escaped that den of horrors, it is difficult to tell what is real and what is only the feverish delirium of an unhinged mind.
Even now, they wait behind the door to this cheap, bare rented room. They drag their claws over the wood. I hear them hissing in that strange, ancient tongue, the one I first heard in the tombs of rock that had been undisturbed for countless millennia.
***
I had first heard rumors of an unexplored cavern from my friend, an experienced caver named Sonia who had explored caverns all over the world. I had been looking for some excitement in my life, some break from the constant monotony and boredom of simply working and sleeping. I had gone caving quite a few times over the year leading up to the trip, but I was not nearly as experienced and had never explored a supposedly virgin passageway of cavern before.
“How do you know no one’s gone down there?” I asked, curious. We sat across from each other at a local diner, getting some early breakfast before our planned descent. The sunrise was still another half-hour away, the sky flat and dark. We would be joined by Sonia’s husband, Phil, who would meet us there shortly after sunrise. I repressed an urge to yawn, chugging half of the steaming hot coffee in one long swallow. Sonia leaned close to me, her nearly colorless blue eyes reminding me of chunks of ice floating down a muddy stream.
“Phil’s friend just found it randomly,” she whispered before glancing around conspiratorially, as if she feared someone would care enough to eavesdrop on a conversation about a cave. “Well, it’s in the middle of a farm, and Phil’s friend, Jack Graysole, owns the entire property and surrounding woods. Jack says he noticed the cows kept going over to a certain spot in the field when it got really hot during the summertime. They would all gather around this little indentation in the grass. After seeing it a few times, Jack got curious and went to investigate what the cows were doing.
“He found a small hole in the ground, almost entirely covered by weeds and grass. He said he felt a cool breeze constantly blowing out of the hole, a breeze that smelled like burning matches and charred metal. After bringing out some shovels and digging down a couple feet, Jack realized that the hole wasn’t a hole at all, but the beginning of a steep passageway leading deep into the bowels of the earth.”
***
The owner of the land decided to unofficially call the newly-discovered cavern Graysole Caverns. Out of respect for him, this is also the name we all used. This is the story of how I found myself in the bowels of a strange subterranean tunnel, a tunnel where creatures beyond my comprehension slunk and hunted, skittering monstrosities who would be more at home in a nightmare.
After grabbing a couple coffees to take with us, Sonia drove over to Graysole Farms. Cows stood out in the grassy fields, huddled in tight circles as they repetitively chewed. The thin silhouette of Jack Graysole waited for us next to the herd. He had a face like a raisin, I thought to myself. I watched his thin, shaking body standing in the middle of an overgrown grassy field. Jack stared down blankly at something only he could see. Sonia and I started unloading some equipment from the car while we waited for Phil.
Once we had the backpacks loaded with some simple supplies, such as water, food, headlamps, rope, a couple extra batteries, some buck knives, and radios, we headed over to accompany Jack. We weren’t taking much, as we didn’t really expect to be down there for more than six or seven hours at the most.
Jack Graysole’s withered old face was as slack and expressionless as that of a corpse. He stared down at the ground as if he were in a trance, waving back and forth slowly on his feet like a plant in a light breeze.
“Jack?” Sonia called out as we approached. I could hear the man’s teeth chattering as we got nearer.
“Hey, what are you doing over here this early? You interested in accompanying us down there?” Sonia joked. But Jack might as well have been totally deaf for all the reaction he gave. Sonia glanced over at me with an anxious expression. I wondered if the old man was having a stroke.
I quickly walked over to where he stood, staring down at a black circular hole about three feet across directly in front of his feet. The entrance to Graysole Caverns stared up at us like a sightless pupil. As I drew within a few feet of Jack and looked straight into his blank eyes, I noticed something alarming.
His pupils were quickly dilating and constricting before my eyes. They would shrink to tiny pinpoints, then, a couple seconds later, rapidly expand until they became dark and serious. I could see his thready, rapid heartbeat pulsating in a vein on the side of his temple. Alarmed, I reached forward and put my hand on his shoulder.
Instantly, he came to life, like a man waking up from a nightmare. Shrieking, he looked at me with fully dilated pupils, reminding me of a panicked deer surrounded by wolves. His quavering old man’s voice shook with ineffable existential horror and mortal fear.
He took a step back away from us, seeming to realize where he was and what he was doing. He looked around, confused, then straight at me and Sonia. His eyes focused with anger and fear, as if we were demons here to drag him down to Hell. His eyes flicked back and forth between us constantly. Jack raised a trembling hand and pointed it straight at my heart.
“It’s you,” he said, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. His teeth chattered despite the warm spring air. His skin looked deathly pale. “You’re the one who will bring an end to humanity, who will release the ruler of nightmares upon us.” He continued to point accusingly for a long moment at me, his face turning chalk-white. Then his eyes rolled up in his head. Slowly, he stumbled and fell backwards onto the soft grass of the field.
“Jack!” Sonia cried, running over to the old man. Jack’s breaths had started to come in slow, drawn-out gurgles, like a man with a slit throat trying to breathe. Frothy blood bubbled from his lips as they turned blue. Staring up at the endless expanse of cloudless sky, he exhaled one last shuddering breath and died.
***
Phil showed up only a couple minutes later. He found me and Sonia in a state of utter panic, both of us bent double over the still body of Jack. Sonia was on the phone with 911, and I was trying to give Jack chest compressions. The way his fingernails and lips shone with that cyanotic blue cast made me feel sick and weak. I knew it was futile, that I was simply playing with a corpse at this point, but I didn’t know what else to do. I felt if I didn’t do something, I might explode.
I heard the faint wailing of sirens approaching as Sonia’s panicked voice continued babbling to the 911 operator. Phil stood by her side, his tall, dark features searching and lost.
“Oh God, I think he’s dead!” Sonia cried over and over to the operator, as if she thought the operator could do anything about it. I didn’t hear what the operator said in response. As the ambulance pulled in, I gave up on chest compressions. I stood up and took a step back, looking sadly down on the kindly old man’s dead body.
The paramedics ran over. Phil, Sonia and I stood back while they worked on the corpse, trying to shock the heart back into life. But Jack’s open eyes stayed glazed as they stared sightlessly up into eternity.
***
The paramedics left. A couple police officers stayed behind to ask us a few routine questions. Eventually, after an hour or so, they left, too.
“What a fucked-up day,” Phil said, shaking his head grimly. “Do you guys still want to do this? Maybe it’s an omen from God telling us to go home.” Sonia and I exchanged a glance, then we both nodded at the same time.
“Definitely,” she said. “It’s sad what happened to Jack, but realistically, we don’t know what’s going to happen to this property now that he’s passed away. It might get sold or taken by the bank for all we know. This could be our one and only chance to explore this cave.”
“I don’t believe in omens. I’m still down,” I said, feeling slightly sick from the experience. I still remembered how Jack’s body had cracked under the weight of my chest compressions, how his ribs had snapped like bones shattering in greedy hands. “We’ll do it in memory of Jack. I plan to put this up on YouTube.” I pulled my GoPro out of my bag, turning it on. Phil groaned at that.
“Do we have any idea how far down this cave goes?” Phil asked. I felt a sense of relief now that the topic had changed from the death of the old man.
“I sent a little camera down on a rope, but it only went about a hundred feet,” Sonia responded. “It’s pretty steep at first, then it levels out. I couldn’t really see much after it leveled out, but it looks like it should be easy to climb down. There’s plenty of handholds, lots of jutting rocks.”
Phil put on his headlamp and small pack. As he crawled down into the hole, his tanned face looked up at us and gave us one last devilish grin. Once he had gone down a few dozen feet, Sonia started descending. She looked excited and happy. I noticed how she couldn’t stop smiling as she disappeared from view.
I watched their lights grow smaller and dimmer in the circular tunnel. I marveled at how perfectly circular the entrance was. It almost didn’t even look natural.
Taking a deep breath in, I followed my friends down into the dark.
***
“This isn’t too bad,” I said as I climbed down. The jutting rocks gave plenty of handholds and footholds for us. It wasn’t so tight that it felt like a coffin, either.
“It only gets easier from here!” Sonia called up.
“How do you know?” I asked. “You said you’ve never been here before.” She laughed.
“I know. Probably just wishful thinking,” she said. Far below us, Jack’s voice drifted up, faint and weak. He had already reached the bottom.
“The tunnel really opens up down here, guys,” he called. “It’s somewhat… bizarre, though.”
“What do you mean by that?” Sonia asked. I looked down, seeing Sonia and I would reach the bottom in seconds. “Forget it, I’ll let it be a surprise.” I heard her drop down. Slowly and carefully, I lowered myself down the last few feet. There was a short fall onto a smooth granite floor. I looked up, seeing what Phil and Sonia were so mesmerized by.
“Oh, wow,” I said, speechless. I blinked rapidly, wondering if the image would clear like a mirage. The tunnel was cut into a perfectly triangular shape, each side about seven feet long. The ceiling met in a point above our heads.
All along the smooth walls of gray rock, I saw thousands of black orbs peeking out. They looked similar to obsidian, but they were perfectly smooth and circular, each about the size of an orange. They were formed into interlocking diagonal patterns and followed the tunnel straight down as far as the eye could see.
“What is this place?” Sonia asked, taking a tentative step forward. I looked up, seeing the distant pinpoint of sunlight far above our heads. Our voices continued to echo off down the massive tunnels, disappearing in eerie waves into the thick curtain of shadows.
“Are you recording all this?” Phil asked me. I laughed, giddy.
“Of course! This is internet gold right here,” I said. “No one’s going to believe that this isn’t man-made, however. I can’t even believe it. Do you think Jack was playing a joke on us or something?”
“Jack had the sense of humor of a wet paper towel,” Phil whispered, shaking his head. “No, he wouldn’t do something like this.”
“Well, let’s go check it out,” Sonia said, taking a step forward. Her headlamp bobbed up and down rapidly, throwing dancing shadows through the triangular tunnel. It continued straight ahead, without the slightest deviation or curve, disappearing off into a dark point in the distance.
***
We walked as fast as we could, excited to see where, if anywhere, the strange tunnel led. Phil, always the conspiracy theorist, babbled excitedly.
“This has to be aliens, man,” he said, running his fingers through his dark hair. “I bet that scientists will find out this shit is millions of years old when we get back up and tell everyone. Maybe aliens came to earth in ancient times and made a bunch of stuff underground.” Gradually, as we walked, I noticed the tunnel opening up. The pointed triangular ceiling rose up higher above our heads and the walls moved outwards, as we were walking up a triangular funnel. At first, it was so subtle that I didn’t believe it when Sonia pointed it out.
“No, look,” she said, raising her hand above her head. “When we first started down this weird tunnel, my fingers were only maybe a foot away from the top. Now it’s a couple feet.” I was about to respond when our headlamps illuminated something standing in the middle of the tunnel.
“What the fuck is that?” I whispered, stopping cold in my tracks. Phil and Sonia looked up at the abomination at the same time. Its back was to us. It stood nearly as tall as the tunnel, which was now about twenty feet high.
The bottom half looked black and spidery with dozens of long, jointed legs. A bloody, white spine rose out of the mass of legs. Inhumanly long, skeletal arms stretched out in front of it. Its face was pointed away from us, but the back of its head resembled an enormous pointed skull with deep fissures like the cracks of an earthquake running through the bone. The abomination stayed as still as a statue, and for a long moment, I wondered if we were looking at some macabre work of art.
Then, suddenly, one of its insectile legs twitched. A moment later, the other legs started jerking and twisting. There was a sound like bones shattering as it rose up to its full height, turning around to face us.
Its face was like something from a nightmare, melting and reforming constantly like dripping candle wax. I would see a black eye appear on its forehead, then a grinning mouth on its chin, then the features would get sucked back into the folds of melting flesh. After a few moments, two enormous eyes appeared on its face, dark and cold like craters on the surface of the Moon. The mouths and noses disappeared back into the dripping skin, and only the two lidless eyes remained, emanating a cold, reptilian consciousness beyond the ability of my mind to comprehend. I felt terror radiating from its body like freezing waves.
“Free me,” it cried in a gurgling voice that seethed with insanity. It had a shrieking, metallic ringing behind every word that gave it an alien quality. “Free me, and I will give you the waters of eternal life. Within me, I contain the seeds of immortality. Within the nightmares, we live forever, always together, never alone.”
“Who are you?” I asked, terrified. The black reptilian skin of the enormous beast glistened as it knelt down, its massive face drawing near to mine. A sideways mouth burst out of the liquified flesh, showing hundreds of fangs growing like tumors from its white, bloodless gums. The fangs varied in size from only a couple inches to long, sword-like projections that stabbed into the creature’s flesh, causing white blood glittering with rainbows to fall like raindrops all around me.
“I have many names,” it hissed, its thousand voices rising and falling in crashing waves of sound. “I was present at the beginning, when this planet was no more than dead cliffs and endless freezing oceans. Those holy ones who search for us, the ancient ones, call me Niralahoth.”
“How do we free you?” Phil asked, looking terrified. He held Sonia’s hand tightly.
“By letting me into your mind and body,” Niralahoth cried, shaking the cavern. “I was thrown down here, cursed and forgotten. I cannot leave this place of shadows within this body. But in the body of another, my consciousness can be free, and the seeds of new life can spread beyond this prison.”
“There’s no way anyone’s going to do that,” I said, my eyes widening as Niralahoth’s reptilian skull turned towards me in fury. “I mean, you’re asking one of us to give up our individuality, our lives, right?”
“I am asking you to become one with me and gain power undreamt of by mortals,” it cried. “I have within me the fountain of life, the waters that send death away screaming.” I glanced anxiously at Phil and Sonia, wondering if we would have to run.
“The answer is no,” I said. “I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, we can’t do that,” Phil said, backing me up. “But, anyways, I think our trip has ended. It’s time to turn around…”
“You will never return,” Niralahoth cried, skittering away from us. “If you will not accept salvation, then you must accept death.” Within seconds, it slunk away from us, backpedaling on its many skittering legs into the shadows.
***
All around us, a rumbling started.
There was a pounding that crashed through the rock tunnel, as if an insane blacksmith were hammering on a massive anvil. The ringing of crashing rock started off slowly, with a few stones smashing down around us with heavy blasts of sound. Within seconds, the cacophony sped up, rising into a constant stream of destruction. The black orbs were spinning in place all up and down the tunnel, their glossy obsidian surfaces flashing with sparks of blue light.
“It’s collapsing!” Phil cried, running back in the direction we came, holding Sonia’s hand as she tried to keep up with him. I could only stare for a long moment, not sure what to do. It seemed that the direction Phil was heading stood closer to total collapse.
“Wait!” I cried, but my voice was drowned out in the destruction all around us. I felt a rock smash into my shoulder, sending me down to my feet. I heard Phil give a scream of pain, then another stone came down and smashed into my forehead. I remember seeing everything spinning around me as the world went black.
***
I awoke to find my headlamp still shining straight up in the dusty tunnel. Large chunks of the tunnel had slid out of place and crashed to the stone floor. The granite chunks that had fallen looked unnaturally smooth, most of them in the shapes of cylinders or cubes and varying in size from that of an egg to that of a small car.
My head throbbed. It felt as if a tight belt of fire were wrapped around my temples. Groaning, I put my fingers up to my forehead. They came away slick with blood.
Slowly, I started pushing myself up on my feet. I was relieved that nothing seemed broken. I had a deep gash running from the center of my scalp down to my left temple and some shallower cuts on my shoulders and back, but I knew none of that was life-threatening.
“Sonia?” I whispered, my voice coming out weak and strained. I reached into my pack and found a bottle of water. I chugged it quickly in one long swallow.
“Phil?” I cried again, this time stronger. I heard a soft weeping nearby. Staggering, I followed the sound.
Sonia was bloody and covered in cuts and scrapes, sitting next to Phil’s prone form. I saw Phil’s right arm pinned under a massive slab of granite. His arm disappeared from the elbow down in a spreading puddle of thick, dark blood.
“Oh God, Max, I think he’s hurt really bad,” she wept. Phil’s eyes rolled wildly in his head, his face pale and bloodless. I looked down the way we had come, seeing the entire tunnel blocked by large slabs of stone, many with strange, black orbs peeking out like the lenses of cameras.
***
I don’t know how much time passed. My phone died after a day, and then we were counting the endless darkness in breaths and tears.
Phil swam in and out of consciousness as his arm putrefied and blackened around the crush site. After a couple days, Sonia and I agreed that something had to be done. We told Phil we would need to amputate his arm. He was half-delirious, but he came back long enough to understand us and nod weakly.
We made a fire with Phil’s pack, trying to find fuel to throw in it to get it roaring. As it grew, I saw one of the black orbs near the flames abruptly ignite, as if it had been covered in gasoline. Blue, almost colorless flames rose from its surface. We started throwing the small black orbs on the fire until it rose high in the air. I sanitized the buck knife with the flames and pulled a rope tourniquet tight around Phil’s arm. He was conscious but seemingly insane, talking to himself more than anyone else.
“How are we going to get the car started without a key?” he gurgled to someone only he could see. “We need to look around. It has to be here somewhere.”
“Phil, can you hear me, bud? We need to fix your arm. We need to get you out of this mess. OK?” I said as comfortingly as I could. Phil’s eyes rolled wildly, but they didn’t meet my own. I sighed and looked over at Sonia.
“Let’s do it,” I said, giving a grim nod.
I pulled the buck knife out, slicing quickly down through the flesh next to the tourniquet. His veins throbbed like fat worms as the blackened, necrotic skin split easily under the blade, releasing a rancid-smelling gas that hissed out of the wound.
I couldn’t believe how hard it was to slice all the way through the arm. It felt like I was stuck in that hellish task forever. Phil’s eyes rolled in his head as his skin turned the color of clotted milk.
“God, Jesus, make it stop,” Phil whispered over and over, exhaling ragged, pain-filled breaths. The blood spurted from the blackened, dying tissue all over the dust-covered cavern floor, covering my hands in its warm, slick embrace.
After what was probably only three or four minutes, but felt like hours, I had sliced all the way down to the bone. The infected tissue of his arm spurted great gouts of orange pus mixed with rivulets of blood. The hard part was over.
Standing up, I took my steel-toe sneaker and stomped down on his arm as hard as I could. Phil cried out in a powerful voice, as if all the agony and suffering in the world was contained in that one shriek. The bone snapped under my weight with a sound like a tree branch cracking. A moment later, Phil rolled away from the rock that had pinned me in place for so long. Something alien and spongy was shoved into my face, a mass of destroyed red tissue pulsating in time with a runaway heartbeat. At first, shell-shocked and revolted, my mind couldn’t comprehend that I was looking at the stump of Phil’s mutilated arm. I hardened my heart and forced the giddiness and madness to the back of my mind. The time had come to cauterize the wound.
“Sonia, give it to me,” I said with a tremor in my voice. I reached out a hand towards her, a hand stained with Phil’s blood. It looked as if I were wearing a wet, crimson glove. Sonia only stared blankly at me for a long moment, however. A surge of anger ran up my chest.
“Sonia, toughen the fuck up! He’s going to die if you just sit there!” I swore at her, hearing my deep, angry voice bounce around the caverns. Sonia pulled back, as if she were struck. Inwardly, I cursed having a woman as my only able-bodied companion in this situation. She was a competent enough caver, but what would happen if violence and blood came over us? What would happen if, or more realistically when, we needed to fight?
Grimly, Sonia leaned forward and yanked the burning black orb out of the roaring fire, handing it to me on the end of a buck knife that had just barely pierced its hard, strange exterior. The handle of the knife felt coarse and splintery under my filthy skin. I put it to the spongy stump of Phil’s arm. The stump twitched violently. Phil tried to pull away as black smoke rose from the burning flesh.
There was a smell like bacon sizzling. The searing meat of Phil’s arm blackened and crisped under the heat of the orb, which had become no more than a cylinder of glowing blue embers by this point. I felt simultaneously sick and giddy. I didn’t know if I wanted to laugh or vomit. I felt like I was on the verge of some kind of madness, that the stress and insanity of the experience had started to shatter my mind.
His eyes rolled back in his head and he appeared to go into a seizure for a few seconds. With a long exhalation of breath, he finally, mercifully, lost consciousness. It’s hard to admit it, even this close to the end, but a small, sick piece of me was jealous of Phil. Most likely, he would be dead soon, maybe within hours, while Sonia and I would slowly starve and dehydrate like animals over a period of weeks. I looked at her lithe body and soft skin, seeing the feminine curves of her hips and chest. She was a beautiful woman. I knew Phil to be a lucky man. At least, before this trip, he was.
I watched her body, wondering if I had what it took to eat her or Phil if I had to. Did I have an iron heart that would allow me to slice into my friends and consume their raw, cold flesh? Perhaps, by that point, it would be hunger and madness driving me forward, and I wouldn’t even hesitate. I shuddered at the very thought.
***
I fell asleep that night, having strange dreams of massive gods with melting faces sitting in judgment in a circle around me. We had very little food or water left. No one knew we were down here. Rescue was not coming.
When I awoke, I found myself alone. Phil had died from his injuries while I slept, the black streaks of septic shock spreading up his arm towards his heart. His eyes stared sightlessly up at the rock ceiling.
“Sonia?” I called out, my heart racing as I sat up. “Where are you?” My headlamp was growing dim. I looked in my pack, realizing I was on the last of my batteries. I saw a silhouette walking out of the darkness, the thin, pale form of Sonia. She was trembling badly.
“I saw them,” she said. “Niralahoth and its priests. The priests aren’t human. They look reptilian with sideways mouths and too many eyes.” She shuddered.
“Why would you do that?” I asked. Her eyes grew distant.
“You know we’re not getting out of here alive,” she said. “Not on our own. I wanted to see what it offered. It says that if we take a piece of its nightmare into us, we will gain the power to leave this place, that it simply wants to see the surface and spread its nightmares there.” I shook my head.
“Insanity,” I muttered. “We’d be better off dead.” Sonia nodded.
“My thoughts exactly,” she responded grimly. I didn’t realize what she meant until the next day, when I woke up and found her hanging next to Phil’s body, her tongue swollen and blue as it poked out of her cyanotic lips. And then I was truly alone.
***
Soon after Sonia committed suicide, the last of the batteries for the headlamp died. I had run out of food and had only a small sip of water left. I don’t know how much time passed in the darkness, starving and raving, following the tunnel by running my hands over the walls. I heard many things skittering in the darkness, and a few times, I heard the demonic voice of Niralahoth as it split and distorted.
“You are on death’s door,” it hissed. “Will you not drink from the fountain of life?” I couldn’t tell where the voice came from in the maddening blackness. It seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. I had lost nearly all of my sanity in that pit of shadows by this point. I tried laughing constantly to keep my spirits up, and when that failed, I simply cried.
“I’ll do it,” I wailed. “I’ll do it. Just let me see the sky again. Get me out of here, Niralahoth.” Everything went deathly silent all around me, then a laugh rang out like the grinding of glass.
In front of me, I saw a tornado of fire descending from the ceiling, surrounding the massive, spidery form of Niralahoth. It rose its skeletal arms upwards, as if it were Zeus calling down lightning. In the sudden brightness, I saw the fiery form of snakes slithering and centipedes skittering forwards in that tornado, each massive creature sculpted from flames in the spinning cyclone of energy. Niralahoth reached into the tornado of fire with its sharp points of fingers and plucked something small from it. The fire instantly dissipated. In its hand, I saw a tiny, swirling orb that looked like it contained a firestorm within it.
“The nightmare seed,” Niralahoth gurgled as it skittered forward towards me. I could only stare, open-mouthed and starving. I hadn’t slept for days, it felt like, and everything seemed slow and unreal.
In a blur, its skeletal arm shot out and forced the orb into my mouth. Despite the fire raging within it, it felt freezing cold. As it touched my tongue, it gave off a sensation like frostbite all throughout my mouth. I screamed and tried spitting it out, but it seemed to have a mind of its own. It started liquifying, dripping down my throat.
I felt something cancerous and sick spreading throughout my body, radiating out from my heart and stomach to every inch of it. I tried to scream, but it caught behind my teeth. I fell to my knees, clawing at my face as that insane, alien laugh continued resounding all down the tunnel. I fell unconscious and woke up under a beautiful sky in the fields of Graysole Farms.
***
Soon after, I realized that my life would never be the same. Everywhere I went, I could hear the wailing voice of Niralahoth. Behind the trees, I always saw skittering shadows, creatures with long, spidery legs that stalked me every day and night. I slept with every light in the house turned on, yet when I woke up, they would all be shut off, and I would find myself in darkness, next to something in the bed with far too many legs and a face that dripped like burning wax.
I sold everything I owned and tried to move far away, to give as much distance between myself and those cursed caverns as I could, but the nightmares followed me like a shadow. I realize what a fool I was in those ephemeral moments of madness. Sonia was much wiser than myself; I should have killed myself or died rather than allowing that thing inside of me.
Even now, I can feel it creeping through my heart, spreading through my blood. I feel it trying to crawl its way out of my throat, the thin, black legs peeking out at the back of my esophagus.
I only hope that, when I finally jump and feel my bones shatter against the concrete far below, I will kill whatever is inside of me. For I fear the consequences for the world if it were to escape.

I am an EA in a small company, about 25 employees. Summers are generally slow and even if they aren’t the Execs all take a lot of vacations. I am primarily an EA for the 4-6 top execs but have evolved into an entire office/staff manageassistant over the last 3 years. I stock the office, handle mail in and shipping out, events calendars all of the things. For the second summer in a row management has instituted “summer Fridays” where if you are done with your work, you can leave at noon on Fridays, spend extra time outside and with your friends and family. I loved this last summer, with my execs vacationing I generally have a very slow workload in the summer and I love spending extra time outside, leaving town early for a weekend trip etc. I was told by one of my managers (not my highest level boss but the one in the office day to day) that summer Fridays do not really apply to me because my position is 8-5.. (as is everyone else’s, no?) I said oh yeah, if we have people coming in for a meeting I’ll make sure I don’t take that Friday to which she said wellll I mean I won’t tell you that you can’t leave but.. I am still fuming over this a week later.. am I hear to get peoples personal packages?! Does my down time not matter since I don’t have kids or a partner? I am trying g to let it go, I am treated and paid generally well, most companies do not do summer Fridays at all and I need not be so entitled. But… no issues arose last year from me not twiddling my thumbs alone at the office Friday afternoons so what is the real issue here? I’m upset and confused and my motivation to get to the office on time, put in the work ask the questions has gone down the toilet since this conversation. Has something similar happened with any of you?!

DnD (and the other RPG systems D20 uses) isn't really a competitive game, but a cooperative one, and obviously a bunch of improv comedians are really good at yes-and-ing each other to tell a cool story.
But when you have a bunch of friends on opposite sides of the table, a little competitiveness is inevitable. Especially with Brennan "So competitive they made multiple Game Changer episodes solely on that premise" Lee Mulligan involved.
Personally, I think even at their most competitive, it's all in good fun, and that's what leads to these moments being so fun. So I've been trying to think of all the "competitive" moments in D20...

• Operation Slippery Puppet
  • Obviously has to top the list
  • "Am I getting Oceans 11'd on my own show???"
  • Siobhan: "WE READ THE BOOK BRENNAN. By which I mean Emily read the book."
• Same Fight: Ally provoking an oppy so Murph could finish the corn guy/
  • "Why did I think you were doing something ridiculous and not clever?"
• Gorgug's Mindless Rage
  • "Wait, no." "I fucked myself"
• Brennan being Brennan
  • "I'm gonna kill that dog!"
  • "I'm ALL the bad guys."
  • CC's: *rolls way too many dice*
• Lou on Murph rolling badly for the table
  • "This is ruining our real, actual friendship right now."
• Bad dice being taken SO seriously
  • Siobhan throwing dice, Emily moon cleansing Murph's, Lou being so particular about his "children", people yelling at each other for continuing to use "bad" dice, etc.
• The IH's forcing Brennan to eat awkward candy dice on certain rolls (Sophomore year?)
• Murph using Swirl Warden and Ice Feast to fuck up Brennan's Shit
  • "Don't homebrew spells kids."
  • "Wait, no, you can't use an item I made for you against me like that!"
• Hank vs. Brennan's trivia-off in Mentopolis
• Aabria: "You don't have to get ready if you stay ready!"

Honorable Mentions for being kinda PVP but not really:

• Aabria's "And here's what you don't see" and you can just SEE Brennan re-writing the rule book in his head. "Wait, you can do that?" as he said about it in an interview later.
• Brennan trying SO HARD to set up PVP in the Bloodkeep finale and the players metaphorically slapping back so hard with the power of friendship
• Zac is the king if swooping in and making freaking roleplay feel competitive with his one liners. Tell me this man isn't coming into these conversations to WIN:
  • "Where is your Bulb now?"
  • "Do you have a warrant?"
• Ally rolling Nat 20's in penultimate/final episodes and completely changing the game
  • Obviously Ally doesn't control the dice (or DO they???) but Brennan acts like they do it on purpose
    • "You can't do this to me again Beardsley!"

Can folks think of other "competitive" D20 moments? Which ones are your favorite?

[Part 1]
Day 3
I woke the next morning from the sunshine in my eyes. My head was resting ever so slightly on Eli's arm as we had both fallen asleep on my bed after I begged him to stay. I blanched in horror at the drool stain I had left on the arm of his white t-shirt.
I began to slowly move myself and retreat downstairs as the memories of the night before came flooding back. How I had broken, screaming in terror, and how Eli had saved me, not knowing the true reason he found me curled up on the floor crying.
As I stepped off the bed, my leg got snagged in the frilly bed cover, and I went crashing to the ground, making quite the noise as I landed. With a yawn, Eli's eyes opened, and I felt myself blushing as he turned to look at me.
We both kind of stared at each other for a moment, not speaking. Eli opened his mouth, then closed it again as if unsure of what to say.
"Coffee?" I asked quickly, filling the awkwardness of our situation.
"Please," Eli said, smiling.
In minutes, I had a pot brewing as I leaned against the kitchen counter. Eli was picking up the scattered photographs from the floor and looking at them quizzically.
"Why do you have pictures of the Harmons?" Eli asked, showing me the photos of the yellow-haired man and his family.
"Is that their names? I found them out in the barn under a blanket," I answered as I rooted around the cupboards for two mugs.
"In the barn? I cleaned it out just last week. No way I would have missed this trunk," Eli said while examining the wooden trunk with its simple rustic hinges. It was plain and unadorned with any embellishments. Basic as basic could be.
"Well, you must have missed it because it was there," I said, putting emphasis on the "was" in a way that reminded me of my mother chastising my father.
"That's so weird," he said, shifting through the photos while sitting at the table. I brought him a cup of coffee and sugar, and he began absentmindedly adding a lot of sugar to his coffee. About six scoops later, he began stirring and sipping it.
"Well, anyways, thanks for coming last night. I wasn't myself, I hope you know that I'm not some damsel in distress," I said quickly, like word vomit, and I even chuckled at the end, feeling like a total weirdo.
"What happened anyway? You didn't say last night," he said, putting the photos down in a jumble on the table.
I paused for a moment, considering how to answer. As I sipped my coffee, I stared out into the yard beside the barn where the scarecrow stood, glancing around the edge of the barn, hanging limply in his hole. His appearance once again sad and dejected instead of murderous and terrifying.
"I was just scared, I had a nightmare, and it just scared me," I said dumbly, trying not to turn crimson again under his intense gaze.
His eyes seemed to cut right through my lie, as if he were staring directly into my being before he simply glanced away out the window. We fell silent again, and I filled some moments by sipping my drink. It seemed to revitalize me; the sun and the company made me feel secure.
"Why were you here anyways?" I asked after a moment.
"I heard screaming, so I came running. I live just on the other side of the grass there, behind the barn," Eli said, pointing to the barn out the window.
"Must be really close, I didn't see any houses on the way in," I said, prying deeper into the situation.
"It's actually a trailer, maybe like two hundred yards from here. I was outside getting some air when I heard you scream. So, I came running," Eli said, finishing his cup of coffee and placing it in between us like a barrier, as if he was hiding something.
"Could you, uh, not do that?" Eli asked, with an uncertain grin on his face.
"What am I doing exactly?" I asked, startled for a moment, my stomach doing a sort of flip.
"It's just that you like stare at people. You've been staring at me for like my whole cup of coffee, I don't think you blinked the whole time," Eli said, averting his eyes shyly.
"No, I don't," I said until I realized he was right. I never noticed that about myself.
"Right, well, I've got to go. I am probably going to start painting today, so you might see me in a bit," Eli said, rising and heading to the door.
"Wait," I said, grabbing his arm for only a moment before releasing it like it was scalding hot.
Eli glanced at my hand for a moment, then at his arm, before he, too, blushed crimson.
"I just wanted to say thank you again. For last night, I mean. Well, what I mean is I appreciate it," I said, my eyes downcast in, for some reason, shame. Like he had seen me at my weakest and it weighed on my gaze appropriately.
"It was nothing, besides I didn't get much sleep with your constant snoring," Eli said, laughing at me.
"I so don't snore," I said, swatting at him but unable to control a smile creeping up onto my face.
After Eli left, I felt instantly colder, my eyes kept returning to the scarecrow. I grabbed my camera from upstairs and went out to the yard. I scanned the dirt for anything out of the ordinary. There was no blood, or anything on the dirt where the scarecrow stood just last night. I slowly made my way to the scarecrow, but nothing happened. I snapped a photo of the inanimate object, and it didn't even flinch. I poked it, but all I felt was straw underneath its clothes. I removed its mask, expecting a severed head, but it was just straw. Nothing was here but straw. I dropped the mask on the ground and took another photo proving it was just straw and nothing else.
An idea struck me as I regarded the source of my torment. If I planned to stay even one more night here, I needed to do something about this scarecrow. I rooted around in the barn, a series of tools hung from nails in the wall. On one hung what I was searching for. An old rusted shovel with a dirty wooden handle that was worn smooth from use.
I returned to the side of the barn beside the scarecrow, knowing for whatever reason this thing only came when night fell and didn't react at all when I moved or touched it during the day.
Before my morning coffee had even settled, I began to dig at the dusty earth, loose and easy to dig, it came away in shovelfuls. Within an hour, I had a fair-sized hole in front of me. Sweat dripped from my brow, and when I wiped under my eyes, they came away black from last night's makeup. Glancing at the field of grass and knowing Eli could appear at any time, I decided to head inside and shower. The hot water was a godsend, and I lingered for longer, letting the water drain down my head and back, my eyes closed, trying to forget the images from the last two nights. I should just pack up my car and leave right this minute. But how could I explain this to my family? I decided to go through with my plan and bury the scarecrow. I could last one more night if I prepared for it.
I left the shower and dressed modestly, in another one of my old rock t-shirts and a pair of shorts. I returned to the yard and with a satisfying push, I dropped the scarecrow into the pit. It fell with a nice thud, and I smiled at my power over it in the day; it's just at night when I should fear it.
As I threw the first shovel of dirt back on top, I heard a noise in the grass, and it parted, revealing Eli wearing the same pair of jeans and work boots, but he had changed his shirt to a plain black one. In each hand, he held cans of paint and a brush.
"Should I even ask why you are burying that old scarecrow?" He asked as he came to stand beside me.
"Probably best if you didn't," I admitted, leaning on the shovel.
"Well, I'm going to anyway. Polly, why are you burying that old scarecrow?" He asked, a rare smile coming to his face.
"Because it's been haunting me at night," I said bluntly.
"Mhm, yeah, okay. Fine, don't tell me. I've been meaning to get rid of it anyway, but normal people take things to the landfill," Eli said with a smirk as he turned to the house and began setting up for his painting.
I finished burying the scarecrow and stomped the dirt down flat. I finished my job by moving my car and parking it directly over top of the spot where I buried it.
Eli watched me curiously but didn't remark. I returned the shovel to the barn and went out into the yard. I decided to go for a hike around the property. I needed some time alone to think and unwind.
As I made my way through the grass, it began to confuse me. This had obviously been a large farmland, but how had the wild plants grown in such a thick, endless maze of greenery?
It gave me an eerie feeling, like I was being watched as the grass covered three-quarters of my body, like there would be something lurking out in the grass, crouched low, waiting for me.
After a half-hour or so, I came upon a clear lake, only big enough to be considered an old swimming hole, I thought as I dipped my hand into the cool water.
I took off my outer clothes and decided to go for a swim. I lowered myself in slowly and reveled at the cool water. The pond wasn't deep, but the water was clean. A small rope swing had been hung from a large oak tree that bordered the pond. It also provided a nice layer of shade that made it the ideal spot to spend the day. I floated on my back in the water for what seemed like hours. The day seemed to slip away from me. A small beach of sand sat at one side of the pond, so I lay out in the sun and closed my eyes. The warm day warmed my soul, and soon I felt myself drifting off into sleep.
I awoke to the sound of crickets and darkness. I couldn't believe it. I had slept through the day; the long nights had finally caught up to me, and now I was stuck far away from the farmhouse. I didn't know if my plan with the scarecrow had worked, and this wasn't the place to test my theory.
A full moon lay overhead, casting a silvery glow on the world before me. A sea of grass swayed gently in the wind, sending shivers down it in shuddering waves. I looked around, but I was thankfully alone, just the crickets chirping along melodically as my only companions.
I had to make it back to the house, so I started on my way, my hands trailing along the tall grass. The pale light played easily on the deep green grass. Step by step, I made my way back towards the farmhouse and the barn, throwing caution to the wind, and I started to jog along, anything to get back faster. I would have to find Eli; maybe if we were together, he could stop it like before.
If I thought the field was creepy during the day, by night, it was a whole new world. Every sound made my heart stop for a beat before restarting in protest. When all of a sudden, the crickets stopped chirping. I dropped to my knees, letting the long grass cover me from sight. Through the strands, I could make out a shape moving slowly through the tall grass, the swish of the plants as it made its passage through them. My heart dropped. Was this Eli looking for me, or was it the scarecrow come for me?
That's when I heard a voice, a voice cutting through the silence. It started off quiet and raspy as it sang an eerie children's song.
"Did you, did you, did you come for me?
Run and hide, don't you know that I seek
The world it claims that I be not clean
When I come, you'll see how filthy I can be.
Tonight, it is happening, tonight you'll see
Beneath the moon, my shadows they do creep.
In this world, at night I shall be free.
Tonight it's happening, tonight you'll see.
When I come, you had better flee, or else I'll come and give my filth to thee."
I was frozen to the spot. It hadn't found me, but it knew I was in the grass somewhere. Now, with each word, chewed up and spat out like it was unhappy with it, now it was accompanied by the whistle of something in the air and a slicing sound as it cut through the grass around me.
It finished another round of its song, but now it stood within feet of me, its blade whistling as it cut. I took a moment to ready myself, and as it raised its blade to cut through the grass I hid in, I dashed out of my hiding spot and slammed into it. But nothing resisted me; I fell through it like it was a ghost.
In a tangle of limbs, I landed hard on the ground and tried quickly rolling to my feet. The blade of its weapon pierced the earth beside me. Now I could see it was a two-handed scythe the scarecrow carried, but something was off, its hands were human. Pale milky skin like a newborn baby. I had little time to examine the creature except for the canvas bag over its head. Two large black eyes came out of the slits that leaked a dark red blood like tears.
It screeched loudly and swung its scythe, but it was slow, and I took off through the grass in the direction of what I hoped was the farmhouse.
I completely gave up all pretense of hiding and sprinted as fast as I could without looking back. The grass seemed to part for me as I ran in terror. I was just glad that in high school, I had taken track as it was paying off now.
I could hear the noise of footsteps behind me, but I never turned. I ran and ran until my lungs felt like they were going to burst Something silver flashed to my left, and I tripped over something hard and unexpected. The wind was driven from my lungs as my chin slammed hard into the earth. I scrambled back, trying to escape, but the scarecrow was on me, its blade flashing angrily in the pale moonlight.
I wanted to move, I wanted to fight, but my body was weak and unable to catch its breath, and I lay there helpless as it swung its scythe towards me. I closed my eyes in fear, but I only heard the thud of dirt before I opened my eyes. The scythe was discarded, and the scarecrow stood staring at me.
It seemed to be struggling with something, one hand reached out towards me only to be snapped back to its side. A roar of rage pierced the canvas sack over its head as it struggled against its invisible bonds. For a moment, I thought I saw something behind it, three sets of hands holding it back. One feminine in nature, and the other two must have belonged to children. In a flash, I saw a beautiful woman who looked vaguely familiar with her long brown hair and plain dress.
"Run," she moaned as the scarecrow swung around wildly.
I didn't hesitate and fled, my breath had returned, and while my body still ached from my fall, I powered on, knowing this was the only respite I would receive tonight.
In the distance, I could see a small sheet metal shape; Eli's trailer was slowly coming closer as I ran, and I beelined it for the trailer. I could hear the footsteps behind me again as the scarecrow resumed its chase after me.
I reached the old trailer and banged on the door as loud as I could; I rattled the handle, but it was locked.
"Eli, it's me. It's Polly, please let me in. Please," I begged as I banged over and over again on the door of his trailer.
Nothing responded to me, and the trailer was dark. The single window in the back held no life inside the trailer. From the trailer, I couldn't tell which direction the farmhouse was in the dark, so I fled into the tall grass and crouched low, watching the clearing around the trailer.
While I caught my breath, I watched the scarecrow enter the clearing, its scythe back in its hand as it circled the trailer. When its raspy voice began singing again low and quiet, only loud enough for me to hear.
"Did you, did you, did you come for me?
Run and hide, don't you know that I seek
The world it claims that I be not clean
When I come, you'll see how filthy I can be.
Tonight, it is happening, tonight you'll see
Beneath the moon, my shadows they do creep.
In this world, at night, I shall be free.
Tonight it's happening, tonight you'll see.
When I come, you had better flee, or else I'll come and give my filth to thee."
The song made me shiver uncontrollably at the lyrics and the voice; it sounded demented like a crazy person letting their demons out into a nursery rhyme.
I lay perfectly still; for some reason, it couldn't find me. This creature I assumed was all-knowing seemed to have some very human weaknesses. It moved and talked like a human, even had certain body parts that were from a human; it even felt human the way it chased and reacted.
The scarecrow moved on through the tall grass, and I let out a sigh of relief as it lost my trail. How terrifying that beast was. In my pocket was the keys to my car. Eli had told me that the farmhouse was fairly close to his trailer. I had to navigate to the car, then drive as fast as I can away from this place. The fact that I hadn't left already because I was worried about money was insane. Who cares, I could drive to Barb's and demand my money back. Go home and just tell my parents the truth. The whole reason for actually leaving home this summer, why I was actually here in this field shivering uncontrollably in fear. But I couldn't think about that now, not now, there will be time to deal with that later. Now I needed to focus on staying alive, getting to the car, and getting out of here.
I went in the direction the scarecrow had; he knew the land better than I did, and every noise I made in the silence of the night made my heart drop. It took all my courage there and then to take one step forward, then another. I felt like I was going to be sick; my stomach was in knots to where it felt like even if I was sick, the only thing to come out would be only bile and stomach acid.
With each careful step, I made my way closer to the farmhouse and the scarecrow. Through the darkness, I could see my goal, the farmhouse, and the barn. Within minutes, I had made it securely to the farmhouse yard.
My car still sat in the same spot overtop of the hole where I buried the scarecrow. In the moonlight, I could see that the dirt had not been disturbed.
The scarecrow was nowhere to be seen, and I cautiously made my way to my car, my keys in my hand as I approached the driver's door. I hadn't locked the car, and it opened on the first try. I turned on my car as quietly as I could, but nothing could have prepared me for what happened next.
Something landed heavily on top of the roof of my car, making it dent inwards slightly. With horror, I saw the scarecrow swing its scythe into the back window of my car. With a crash, the glass shattered inwards; I put my car into gear and roared away down the lane. In my rearview mirror, I couldn't see anything, so I swerved back and forth, trying to shake the creature from the roof of my car when the scythe crashed in through the front window, making a hole just large enough for it.
The glass spidered, and I couldn't see out the window very well. I swerved down the road, but the scythe remained in the car, allowing the creature purchase. In a panic, I spun my wheel wildly, trying to dislodge it, but I lost control, and soon felt something crash into the front of my car. The airbag went off in my face, and I hadn't been wearing my seatbelt. I slammed hard into something else, and my vision went dark. I was in a daze; I must have passed out because I don't remember a lot of what happened next. I felt the car door open with a crunching tear, and it landed loudly as it was torn off. My body being grabbed and tossed on the ground. I felt no pain, just a gentle numbness. I felt blood on my head as I raised my arm to touch my face.
Then just blackness, complete, and empty just feelings, fear, unease, sadness. My eyes opened, and the scarecrow was overtop of me. Pain on my chest and my vision went dark again. Coughing as something poured down my throat. I couldn't breathe, why couldn't I breathe?
My eyes opened one last time, and I saw the scarecrow pouring a dark liquid from its mouth directly into my mouth and eyes. My vision was red and bloody before I closed them one last time.
The words of its song echoed into the emptiness of my thoughts.
"Did you, did you, did you come for me?
Run and hide, don't you know that I seek?
The world it claims that I be not clean.
When I come, you'll see how filthy I can be.
Tonight, it is happening, tonight you'll see,
Beneath the moon, my shadows they do creep.
In this world, at night, I shall be free.
Tonight it's happening, tonight you'll see.
When I come, you had better flee, or else I'll come and give my filth to thee."
The darkness enveloped me, and I felt myself slipping away, the sounds of the night fading into oblivion.
Day 4
When I awoke, it was morning, and I found myself lying in a hospital bed. My head throbbed with pain, and my body ached all over. The memories of the terrifying night flooded back to me, and I shuddered involuntarily.
A nurse entered the room, her kind eyes filled with concern. "You're awake," she said softly, her voice gentle like a soothing balm. "You're lucky to be alive. You were found unconscious by the side of the road next to your car. Do you remember what happened?"
I tried to speak, but my throat felt raw and dry. I croaked out a few words, barely audible. "The scarecrow... it attacked me..."
The nurse frowned, her brows furrowing in confusion. "Scarecrow? What scarecrow?"
My heart raced with panic as I realized the truth. Had it all been a nightmare? But the pain in my body felt too real, the memories too vivid to be mere hallucinations.
I tried to explain, to tell her about the terrifying creature that had pursued me through the night, but she only looked at me with concern, as if I were delusional.
"I'll get the doctor, and there is a young man who brought you in. He has been here all morning," the nurse said with a sly wink.
After a few minutes, she came back with Eli and a doctor, both of whom smiled gently at me through the window. The doctor came in first and went over my health with me. I had a concussion and bruises all over my body. A generous-sized cut from some glass on my scalp had been stitched and bandaged. My mind flashed back to the night before. How the scarecrow had filled me with its gooey red blood.
"Did you find anything else?" I asked cautiously, trying to avoid another scandal like with the nurse.
"No, as long as you have someone to pick you up and take you home, you are free to go. That nice young man out there said he would take you back home," the doctor said, pointing to Eli as he rose with a slight grunt.
I glanced at Eli, and he waved uncertainly at me. The doctor went out and began talking to Eli for a few minutes.
While I waited, my mind began to have strange thoughts. Something was wrong; I felt weird. My vision turned red, and I began to see images before my eyes.
The Harmons. They flashed before my eyes in real-time—the husband hugging his wife, then swinging his kids around, chopping wood outback next to the barn while his wife cooked in the kitchen.
As Eli entered the room, the visions stopped suddenly. Like my saving angel for the third time now, I was extremely grateful to Eli.
"Heyyyyy," Eli said, elongating the word in a sort of familiar yet awkward way.
"Hi," I said, closing my eyes and letting my embarrassment pass in only a few seconds.
"Why is it that fifty percent of the times we meet, you're in serious trouble?" Eli asked, coming to sit on the edge of my bed.
"Oh, you know me, bad luck, I guess," I said simply, becoming aware that under my blankets, I was in a backless hospital gown, and he was inches away from me.
I pulled the blanket up to my chin as a sort of cover for my appearance, but Eli didn't seem to notice. He continued talking to me. It was actually really sweet the way he seemed to care for me.
"Anyways, the doctor said I could take you back to the farmhouse to rest," Eli said.
"No," I said suddenly, becoming serious.
"What? Why not?" Eli asked.
"I just, I just can't right now. I'll tell you later. Just, we can't spend the night anywhere near the farm," I said, grabbing him by the arm, hoping to sway him.
"Well, I mean, if you want, we can grab your stuff, and my house can literally go anywhere," Eli said in an offhand manner, as if he had expected this.
"Promise?" I asked, trying not to seem too afraid.
Within the hour, we had returned to the farmhouse. The hole I dug was still covered over, and I stared at it as we parked in Eli's black pickup truck.
I ran inside and quickly got changed into my only clean clothes, grabbing everything I had from the farmhouse. I paused at the dinner table, looking down at the photographs of the Harmons and thinking back to that weird moment in the hospital with that odd vision.
The day was getting longer, and I hurried back to Eli, waiting in the pickup truck. I threw my bag in the back and climbed in beside him. He smiled and backtracked down the lane. We turned to the left and went down a side road where we came upon my poor old car. It had crashed directly into a tree, and the whole front part of the car had been destroyed. Fluid leaked all over the road, and I almost shed a tear for my departed friend. We had traveled far together. I grabbed a few things from the car, but something was off about the car. The front door had been knocked off and was discarded on the far side of the road. It looked impossible; the door hadn't even hit the tree.
Eli hooked his truck up to his trailer, and we sped off, leaving the property behind us. We headed into town and found a pullout on the side of the road with a set of bathrooms to camp at for the night. Eli's trailer was messy but cozy. He had laundry strewn over most surfaces, but it didn't smell bad.
The room consisted of a small kitchen with a bed in one corner. There were also a lot of posters and artwork on the walls. I examined one of a pretty girl with long raven-black hair. It was a realist painting, obviously taken from real life.
"Who is this?" I asked as Eli made us some food.
"That is just a friend," Eli said, glancing at the painting he had done.
"Well, she is a pretty friend," I said, enjoying watching the back of his ears turn bright red.
"Dinner's ready," he said, pouring the mixture of food he had made onto a pair of plates.
Eli served me and handed me a can of Coke to drink. I thanked him and sat on his bed. It was the only serviceable piece of furniture in the whole trailer. We both sat in silence for a moment while we ate. I could tell something was bothering Eli as he kept making glances toward me.
"What? What is it, Eli? Just say it," I said between bites.
"Tell me what happened, Polly. Tell me why you were burying the scarecrow, why you were passed out in the road with straw in your hair. Tell me why you were muttering about the Harmons and a scarecrow when I found you," Eli said suddenly, as if he were unloading a machine gun.
I looked Eli square in the face and relented. I told him about the last couple of nights at the farmhouse, about how the scarecrow had been tormenting me every night. About how he had saved me and how last night I had fled through the fields to his trailer and then to my car. I told him about the vision I had about the Harmons in the hospital. By the end of it, I was in tears. I felt so foolish and childish.
Eli took it in stride. He asked a few questions during my retelling, but by the end of it, he was silent. Tears fell down my face and landed in my lap. We had both put our plates on the counter, and Eli hugged me. He put his arms around me, and I nuzzled into his shoulder, feeling comforted again in him at the lowest points of my life.
With a gentle hand, he wiped away my tears, and I smiled, letting a nervous laugh escape my lips. I looked up into his face and felt his stare before I saw it. His pale blue eyes shone with comfort, and then his lips were on mine as he kissed me quickly before pulling away slightly.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. That was insensitive of me. You're sad, and I took advantage of that," Eli said, moving back slightly.
"Shut up," I said, and grabbed his shirt, bringing him back in.

I have shifted my youtube channel into the cooking niche. I've only made two videos so far, and almost done with my third, but I'm having some trouble deciding what direction to go with it.
I feel like my strength is my humor but I'm worried that I'm boxing myself into a corner since I'm not actually providing helpful information.
I feel like I have two choices: - Lean into being over the top silly/stupid and be a full on parody of the cooking niche. - Actually show people how to cook things while being silly in between.
I feel like if I do option one I will limit myself to people that find me funny and I might run out of material quicker (or start to get repetitive).
If I do option 2 I feel like I might annoy people that click on my videos to actually learn how to make something.
Im almost done with my next video and in this one I try teaching an actual recipe but the moments where I'm teaching seem super boring to me outside of the jokes and it feels like it ruins the flow.
I want to be funny bc thats whats fun for me but idk how to best approach this.
What do yall think?

In tanksfornothing’s newest yt video, he spends like three seconds talking about his lighting, in which he says they’re “regular ceiling lights”, and we get a short clip of him screwing mounting brackets, then putting a cute little light on them.
It seemed so convenient, and when looking online I found that led panel lights like that are SUPER cheap, but they all also need to be wired. Has anyone tried using ceiling lights before? How easy is the project for someone with no electrical experience?
Is it something I’d have to drill into my stand to do? (The tank I’m trying to light is in the bottom shelf of a multi-tank stand) or can I run the wires along the top of the shelf. How do I get my hands on wires and where do I connect them to power?
TIA! Sorry if there ends up being an obvious answer to this, my ten minutes of googling hadn’t yielded anything

Hi! Hopefully this post finds you well and you're looking for a nice fun conversation. Swiping on dating apps sucks and from the people I've met posting on here it just feels a lot more organic getting to know someone this way. I'm just kind of going to ramble some junk off the top of my head and if any of it feels like a spring board for a conversation starter to you then feel free to slide into my DMs :)
-I've been scratching the travel itch a lot lately. Where's your favorite travel destination or where would you like to go? I just got back from a little weekend road trip Sunday night.
-I'm a dog dad to a 10 year old dude named Toad.
-I'm definitely a bit of a chatterbox about the board game I'm making right now. I just wrapped up the last bit of it to make it "complete" yesterday!
-I'm pretty active. I try to workout 4-5 times a week. Also, I need a co ed pickleball partner! (Not a requirement but it would be fun)
-I'm about to buy a house and I like browsing/talking through cute house ideas.
-I've got a gaming PC and I've been on a bit of a Balatro kick. It's not a multiplayer game but it's fun 😩
This is me https://imgur.com/2YJjvCB

I was in ROTC (Army) for a mere 4 months but had to quit because my doctor had me on these horrible pills that made me very very, just absolutely miserable. I cannot emphasise how BAD I felt on those meds. Ironically I started them when I joined and ran out after I quit but still too late in realising it was mainly the meds that impacted me. That was last year, spring 2023
Here and now for the past few days, I’ve had the sudden nagging/urge/whatever to want to try to rejoin. Not ROTC this time but as a regular soldier. And I really really want to. It’s the only thing I’m good at, following instructions. Being told what to do
I got a major surgery in summer 2023 so I gained back all the weight, plus a bit more, I’ve managed to lose in training and outside activities. Which is frustrating because I was expecting to lose more weight from the surgery. I just have shit genetics. It has always been very difficult for me to have a healthy body. When I healed, I kinda went lazy on physical activity. My exercise was being cautious about the surgery sight. I was paranoid I’d fuck up and rip something open even though the doctor said I could start doing light exercise
I’ve been trying to get my shit together no matter how demotivating my body type is. I’ve started running but then…my knees. At first I thought it was just because I’ve been out for so long, it’ll go away. But the pain persisted for the next 1.5 weeks and it was decided that I’d take it down to just walking. My knees still hurt to the point that even walking has become a minor challenge
I’m so bummed. I definitely can’t rejoin now. On top of that, my allergies have worsened and I’m technically “oN tHe SpEcTrUm”. Two other factors that are definite disqualifiers for the military, regardless if I have the mildest form of autism. It’s the only thing I’ve come to realise I can actually do. Just simply follow orders (not intended Star Wars ref)
I hate school. Even though I finally found something I decently enjoy, animation, I still hate it. I’ve been struggling because of the forced creativity. I’m now beyond art block. I’m just devoid of ideas. I’m empty. The army seemed like a simple task for my simple brain. I know in reality it isn’t but hopefully you know what I meant. I guess I could put it as it’s straightforward
I’m losing hope. I’m just pushing through these last bits of school even though I’ve probably delayed my graduation at least another 3 years (I’m going on my 3rd year). I’m so tired of this. My mom is forcing me to get a damn bachelor’s degree. Move out? Oh how I’d love too but she’s carefully raised me to rely on her. She’s taught me nothing. As much as I’m trying to figure things out on my own time, it’s so hard because of how she made me turn out. I still wouldn’t last out there. When, or if, I do finally graduate, I wouldn’t know where to go next. I don’t want to do school but all I’ve known is school because US system go brrr
I definitely can’t rejoin the military now because my newly acquired knee issues and my other biological defects. I’m out of options. I don’t know what to do anymore. Where else could I go? What else could I do? I don’t fucking know!

I was in ROTC (Army) for a mere 4 months but had to quit because my doctor had me on these horrible pills that made me very very, just absolutely miserable. I cannot emphasise how BAD I felt on those meds. Ironically I started them when I joined and ran out after I quit but still too late in realising it was mainly the meds that impacted me. That was last year, spring 2023
Here and now for the past few days, I’ve had the sudden nagging/urge/whatever to want to try to rejoin. Not ROTC this time but as a regular soldier. And I really really want to. It’s the only thing I’m good at, following instructions. Being told what to do
I got a major surgery in summer 2023 so I gained back all the weight, plus a bit more, I’ve managed to lose in training and outside activities. Which is frustrating because I was expecting to lose more weight from the surgery. I just have shit genetics. It has always been very difficult for me to have a healthy body. When I healed, I kinda went lazy on physical activity. My exercise was being cautious about the surgery sight. I was paranoid I’d fuck up and rip something open even though the doctor said I could start doing light exercise
I’ve been trying to get my shit together no matter how demotivating my body type is. I’ve started running but then…my knees. At first I thought it was just because I’ve been out for so long, it’ll go away. But the pain persisted for the next 1.5 weeks and it was decided that I’d take it down to just walking. My knees still hurt to the point that even walking has become a minor challenge
I’m so bummed. I definitely can’t rejoin now. On top of that, my allergies have worsened and I’m technically “oN tHe SpEcTrUm”. Two other factors that are definite disqualifiers for the military, regardless if I have the mildest form of autism. It’s the only thing I’ve come to realise I can actually do. Just simply follow orders (not intended Star Wars ref)
I hate school. Even though I finally found something I decently enjoy, animation, I still hate it. I’ve been struggling because of the forced creativity. I’m now beyond art block. I’m just devoid of ideas. I’m empty. The army seemed like a simple task for my simple brain. I know in reality it isn’t but hopefully you know what I meant. I guess I could put it as it’s straightforward
I’m losing hope. I’m just pushing through these last bits of school even though I’ve probably delayed my graduation at least another 3 years (I’m going on my 3rd year). I’m so tired of this. My mom is forcing me to get a damn bachelor’s degree. Move out? Oh how I’d love too but she’s carefully raised me to rely on her. She’s taught me nothing. As much as I’m trying to figure things out on my own time, it’s so hard because of how she made me turn out. I still wouldn’t last out there. When, or if, I do finally graduate, I wouldn’t know where to go next. I don’t want to do school but all I’ve known is school because US system go brrr
I definitely can’t rejoin the military now because my newly acquired knee issues and my other biological defects. I’m out of options. I don’t know what to do anymore. Where else can I go? What else can I do?

I took out a PCP car loan on a brand new (at the time) Abarth 595 (2022), I absolutely loved it, I put a £4K deposit down at the time to get reasonable monthly costs.
I got the car in July and in September I saw a guy trying to steal it and then in October someone did a drive by and threw giant rocks at my windscreen and drivers side window and smashed them in. As you can imagine this took the love away for me. From this incident I have a small dint at the top of my car bonnet (as big a thumb print but really noticeable) and due to where it’s situated I’ve been quoted that I need a whole new bonnet and spray job (£350).
I also had my wing mirror knocked off last year so I have an odd coloured wing mirror. All in all, works are probs £400.
My service is due which is mandatory as under warranty and it’s SO expensive for a major service (£612). I owe £11k on it and I could sell the car to We Buy Any Car for £11k but then I’d have to get out another loan.
Do I stick with it and just sort the service out and do the work on it (I also have to get a new boiler in my house so I’m ending up in a lot of debt right now) or do I sell up now, break even and get another car loan/ bank loan on an older car? The older car could then come with potential issues as well…
My dad is telling me to sell the car but mum and boyfriend telling me to just stick it out. I don’t know what to do help :)

Let's keep this fast and light...the Dawi have been and continue to be my favorite race in virtually every facet of the game, and all Thrones of Decay managed to do was reinforce that fact. As such, I wanted to take some time to denote what changes really worked well for them as well as a few improvements I'd love to see down the line.
The MVPs

• Malakai -- As one of the bannermen for the Grimm Burloksson train, I was disappointed to get Malakai, but I must admit I was wrong about him. He's a ton of fun, completely loved his campaign and his mechanics are fresh and feel very much in line with how the lore paints his general vibe. Also, gotta love that accent.
• Flame Cannons -- The adjustments to the arc, the look and impact of the ammunition and the recent hotfix (re)bolstering the range have truly made running flame cannons more than worth the cost. For those curious, tack on a Rune of Seeking and you will, quite literally, melt enemy armies...10/10, high recommendation.
• Gyrocopters -- The Dawi version of cavalry are seriously impactful now...the Brimstone Guns crush it against lightly armored ranged units as well as the rear of any enemy line, the Trollhammer Grudge Settler variant completely demolishes large entities and the Gyrobombers are insanely useful.
• Thunderbarges -- Not much to say here that hasn't been said already...the minor adjustments in Hotfix 5.0.3 definitely helped the overpowered nature some had come pointed out, but still a massively killer Tier V unit and the true centerpiece of ToD.
• Slayers -- I'll note that I was less than enthusiastic about the addition of so many slayer units (three of the five units in ToD plus Garagrim, the generic lord and the generic hero), but every single one offers a unique purpose while also fleshing out that area of the infantry roster. Ungrim feels *complete* now and it's so incredibly satisfying to run him with his son and a full roster of slayers into battle and just watch them go to town...before his buffs felt mostly useful for his army plus a couple units here or there, but now there's some absolute utility to entire stacks led by Daemonslayers and Dragonslayers.
• Oathgold -- The changes to how some buildings work have been great (no more needing one building to recruit a unit from another, love that adjustment), but one in particular stands out: oathgold production. You need more of it than ever with the tech tree rework, and the new infrastructure complements that style well.
• The Age of Reckoning -- The 15-turn timer PLUS the major changes to how grudges are calculated really improved the whole concept, so hats off to CA again on that quick fix. And while I still feel like the system needs a bit of fine-tuning (for example, if you ever manage to hit 100 percent before the timer runs out, the age should just...end, ensuring you don't: A) sit around for the timer to run out to settle some more grudges, or B) waste settling grudges on a capped out AoR), we're still leagues beyond where the base Dawi mechanics were pre-Thrones of Decay.
• Other Minor Adjustments -- Many too numerous to count...the top improvements that come to mind include how Trollhammer Torpedoes operate (the VFX, the damage, the range), the VFX of flame cannons and Irondrakes as well as Dwarf Warriors moving to settlement recruitment versus requiring a barracks.

Areas of Improvement

• Lack of Ranged Generic Lord -- While I believed this before ToD, the existence of Malakai ironically enough drove this point home...the Dawi lack a generic ranged lord, and that addition would completely solidify their roster. Now, I still maintain they should somehow pair this addition with Grimm Burloksson as a legendary lord, but the primary point is the fact that a generic Engineer Guildmaster would fill that final hole in the lord lineup available for the Dawi. I just hated running Malakai (a pure ranged lord with buffs to artillery) and then being forced to recruit either a melee specialist (Dwarf Lord), a melee specialist (Daemonslayer) or a support-focused lord (Runelord) who most of the time operates as a melee specialist to lead his faction's other armies...that ranged option feels like a necessity.
• Legendary Grudges -- I'll note that the 10 legendary grudges are excellent and I love the system, but I have had consistent issues with those grudges getting 'aborted' mid-game...I'm confident this is a bug due to confederation or something, but would love to see that solved.
• Confederation -- Not sure if this mechanic is intentional or not, but I definitely don't think the confederation of minor Dwarf factions should affect your confederation grudge total for the other legendary lords...right now that serves as such a major deterrent from standard confederation.
• Karak Azorn -- Still feels...empty. And makes a lot of sense for a future Dawi start down the line, would love to Burloksson take up shop in Azorn as an early-game opponent for Grimgor, Greasus and Drazhoath and an order-focused ally for Cathay up in the Mountains of Mourn.

If you haven't tried the Dawi yet, I encourage you to do so...they're excellent, and if you enjoy solid gunpowder, high-end armored infantry and blokes rambling on in Scottish accents, you'll love them.

I 29F live with my mom, older brother by 6 yrs and 95yr old grandma. I was diagnosed with depression and anxiety from about 20yrs old and have probably been living with it since I was a child but didn't know what it was. Since I was a child I have had a lot of responsibility placed on me as the "gifted kid" that would "save and protect" the family and hold it together. Now, I wasn't aware I was being put into that role until I got to live and work abroad and had some time to reflect and also talk to peers to realise that most people don't live their childhood, teens and twenties supporting their family of adults - especially not as the youngest member of the household.
That job abroad felt like it was the first time doing something for myself and by myself but quickly became supporting the family financially and at every beck and call from abroad. My mom would vent to me about whatever is daunting on her emotionally, stressing her financially etc and being so used to it - I always made it become my problem to fix it. This lead to a problem where, I have no savings, no property that isn't tied to/shared with someone else, and I am constantly mentally drained and emotionally exhausted till I just don't have the mental capacity to work on my own goals and aspirations. Further stressing me out is I actually have a lot of big goals and aspirations and expectations I set to myself. Being so far behind, esp when it seems like its mostly not my fault (apart from my enabling it etc) doesn't do wonders for my mental health.
The usual pattern in my life is as soon as the slightest good thing happens, or even just a shift in my mental health (say motivation comes from somewhere and I really start to put plans into action) - something much worse happens that forces me back into my abyss. Except, it gets deeper and deeper every time. I'll spare you several examples.
So upon my realisation that I was probably "parentified", that my mom is far too reliant on me as a second breadwinner and that I am functionally her husband - I wrote her a letter saying I was pulling the plug on all that, that they all needed to learn how to live without relying on me because I don't even want kids and don't see why I am supporting adults when I don't even live there at the moment. I was going to express that they are fundamentally holding me back and that it has to and would stop.
Unfortunately, before I could finish that letter, mom calls to say she was diagnosed with cancer. Now this too would be somehow my issue to fix cause my brother though working always made less than me and he was extremely unwilling to take care of mom. Even to just take her to doctors appointments he couldn't be bothered to do, preferring to just work instead. While I was abroad I had to ask my friends and mom had to ask her friends for that kind of support and I eventually hired a caregiver that I sent money back home (in addition to my usual financial aid). Eventually it would come to pass that mom would need chemo and the possibility she may not survive. I was afraid to come home lest all the burden of this naturally high stress situation fell on me - but at the same time what if she doesn't make it and I never saw her again?
I couldn't afford a roundtrip airfare and the arrangement with my job was if I terminated at the end of my contract without renewing I could go home at my employer's expense. I decided to quit and come home after a less than hopeful conversation with my mom's oncologist. This meant financially we'd be reliant on mom's regular burdened by debt income, her insurance and my brother's income (this never happened btw) to get by since I am now jobless.
What I feared happening happened exactly AND more! Not only did the caregiver I hired eventually walk off the job which made me mom's primary caregiver, her nurse, her chauffer, personal assistant and courier. I also became the housekeeper, the shot caller, the household manager, the cook, the plumber... you get the idea. On top of that, my brother would be a regular thorn in the side because he would throw tantrums when I needed the car to do things for mom (mom and I own the car but mom started to let him drive it while I was away since he recently got his license). He was highly uncooperative with handling his own personal responsibilities (eg taking care of his cats), as well as anything where I would need extra help with mom. My grandma also would complicate things ( she has always been a narcistic bitch and no one in the family likes her but mom insists she has to stay cause mom is a pushover - you see who I get it from yes. Grandma would actively compete with my mom for pity points, faking sickness, deliberately making herself sick, exerting herself unnecessarily to then feign weakness and guilt trip me - all because she wanted the same attention that I gave the cancer patient.
Mom too, would put me under emotional duress cause in all this she also wanted me to do everything and be happy about it even if I had to pretend. She would start to make demands, oddly specific meal requests of someone who does not cook at all, demand having access to me at all times of day, and if I were to take free time out of the house by myself, she would insist I need to do something for the house or for her while I was out esp if I was going to use her car (the car we both own, that when we bought she told me it was mine and the car that is officially willed to me - yes that one). We also had several arguments where I learned she always thought that cause I was the "smart one" she expected that I could be fully left to my devices and I'd turn out fine and she could rely on me to take care of my deadbeat, driven-less, lazy, lonely, woman-blaming incel and approaching sexually deviant brother after she eventually passes. Cause she is confident that he may never learn to fully adult. And she is likely right by her own fault was she coddles him and shields him from every form of consequence of his action or inaction and is very hesitant about any kind of tough love for him but when it comes to me - even with the slightest of things/benefits she will quickly withhold because "I am inherently more privileged" than he is.
In all of this, my friends when I reach out for support never want to show up. They don't want to deal with any of my problems. No one wants to let me stay even for a week to get a break from my household. Most of them anyway I can't even trust cause they see me as their scapegoat for female touch and affection and since I am no longer willing to pity their loneliness they have gone extremely cold and some try to skirt around touching me inappropriately when they're around me.
Now, I also live in a poor country where pay is always shit. I still only have a bachelors in something that pays extra shit at entry level esp in my country. Peers in my country have very different interests than me usually which is how I am still with the same circle of misfits I have from high school as friends. There's not really anything to do at home that interests me - career wise or entertainment wise. Which is why getting out was such a high priority. But as you can see that's always been and continues to be put on the back burner.
Now that mom is doing much better, its back to looking at exiting cause I will not ever feel better if I stay in this house or even in that country. And my family can thank themselves for finally pushing me to the point where I really don't care what happens to them once I am confidently gone.
So I have shit family, shit friends, no job, my family is actively trying to strip me of any kind of power or leverage with what I do own, changing the conversation as necessary if it means I stay trapped. All because I unfortunately expressed that I want out and that I am not of the opinion that family is everything or blood is thicker than water. Once I get a job, it probably won't pay well enough to rent and apparently the car I part own isn't really mine while I live in my mom's house (which is also legally, partially mine) by her logic. Public transit is very expensive, so if I rent without a car that's even more money I'd have to make. I'd also have to accept the risks that come with public transit in a murder-loving country esp a murder-against-women-loving country vs just brute forcing the mental trauma of staying at that pitiful excuse of a home.
This was a lot longer than planned and if you read all of that, thank you. Sincerely. If you have any tips on how to cope in a high stress, high pressure environment besides hobbies, meditation and exercise - enlighten me. If you skipped to the end, I am not doing a TLDR. I will just wish you blessings and I hope that your life is on a better trend than mine ever was.