Hiya! I'm Vrishank, but you can call me V! (If you wanna look me up on insta- vr1sh4nk_)
I'm going to be studying CS at ASU in fall and unfortunately, I made the decision in a bit of a rush.
In trying to look for housing, I ended up filling 'Music' as my description (My dumbass thought enter would let me write a new tag) What I wanted to write instead was that I like music, photography, long walks on the beach (-The basic stuff)
I'm quite a bit of an extrovert though all I do at parties is bop my head and talk to people.
I'm trying to get into cooking if someone wants to partner me up.
I've literally just started working out, and I'm really enjoying it, so someone to partner me up would be a blessing!
I'm a sucker for motorsports, and anything car related.
I also like eco and I'm studying that on the side, not too sure about how that's relevant but eh
I absolutely love gaming (GTA, Valo, Fn, F1 etc.)
Feel free to reach out to me on insta!
P.S. - reach out soon tho my parents are killing me to get housing done today ;p
As for room preferences -
Temp. - I like it pretty cold, yeah
Room, I prefer to keep it tidy
-I'm a night owl, but I can wake up early too, pretty flexible with that (I keep a horror alarm though)
I love me some music ( I listen mostly to some indie artists)

When I lost my faith, I felt empty for a long time afterwards. I was miserable, because my divine buddy wasn't actually there. There was no one who would perfectly understand my autism and the exotic thought patterns that come with it. No one to shower with love and affection and stuff. No one to lean on to during times of need. There was no purpose laid out for me by the heavens. No directions.
That was the moment when I first glimpsed at the vast emptiness behind the thin curtain. To avoid this abyss , I turned my mindset the other way. If there's no deity to worship, what is there to do with the limited time I have left?
Whatever the hell I want, that's what.
At the very least, I won't be held back by a god so mighty he'd never even interact, not even with his devoted believers. If I have free reign over my own damn life, I might as well take it by the reins. Now I'm able to choose my own meaning, and that's pretty neat.
I can finally listen to metal music without feeling like I'm disrespecting the supreme being in the sky. I can cuss as much as i want. I don't need to read the holy scripture anymore. I can be as gay as i want. I can donate to secular charities and support humanitarian causes, without feeling bad that it's not going to the church. I can follow my own moral compass, rather than parroting passages from the Bible. I can, and must, do something to make the world a better place, instead of humming meaningless prayers, hoping that god makes all the problems go away on humans' behalf, and sitting on my ass. Now that I'm in control of my own life, I can finally understand the beauty and the horror of human experience.

As the title says I’m looking for some girl friends in my life bc frankly I’m lacking that feminine energy in my life. I’m in kind of an awkward in between stage of my life and finding friends has been kinda difficult atm.
I’m on the west coast specifically Southern California but different time zones aren’t a big deal to me since I’m a huge night owl anyways.
I’m super into video games (pc specifically), I love indie/pop punk/80s music, super into cartoons and a big movie junkie, I also love baking in my free time.
I’m super open minded and love meeting all kinds of new people so don’t be afraid to hit me up in dms and if you’d rather talk on discord or something like that let me know! 💖✌️

Hello there, I am a hobbyist composer and sound designer. I was wondering if any creative people want to work together on some projects for fun. I was thinking about creating little soundtracks or sound effects for illustrated visual short stories or animation or just for an illustration.
I also know basics of Drawing, animation and 3D modeling but i have not developed those Skills a lot yet. Actually it has beed a while since i drew something etc..
I hit a wall in my creative process and I am looking for Inspiration. Also I always create stuff on my own and I realized this life is too short to wear all hats at once… maybe you feel like me?
I am a fan of Fantasy and Sci-Fi Stories, Video Games, Anime. And I am open to everything and always looking for new things.
Like I mentioned, this is my hobby. I have a full time job, but use every minute of my free time to be creative.
DM me if you are interested. I look forward to hear from you ^{^}
Info: I am 26 years old and from Germany

First/Previous
Andrew remained sick for a time, and we watched over him while he recovered in my bed; I’d taken to sleeping on the floor—Dave visited often and Gemma came whenever she could sneak away from the watchful eye of her father, the Bosses, and their servants. The young man’s wounds were terrible, easily beyond my expertise (although I had some field experience, I was sure at times that Andrew would die) and he spoke often in his sleep, and he said Gemma’s name all the time. I fed him heartened soups when I could and gave him water, but his eyes remained unfocused like he was staring off into the great beyond somewhere. Gemma grew more worried with every passing day, and she tried to rouse him from his stupor, but nothing she did could breach his strange daze and Dave, whenever he came, helped me lift the boy, check that he wasn’t developing unnecessary sores, and he would aid in replacing Andrew’s bandages.
During his recovery, I stayed home often—more often than ever—and I would remain awake well into the night and smoke tobacco, lighting one cigarette off the last and theorizing his recovery. There was a night where I stood by the door with the entryway left partly open and blew smoke from its crack into the open air, and then I heard the boy speak and he said, “That smells.” I turned to see him sitting directly upright, eyes lucid but watery. Then he shifted into the blanket and immediately fell to sleep again. It was then that I knew the boy would live; still he slept hard, and still when Gemma came, he did not respond to her prodding, but his health seemed inevitable.
It rained twice while the boy was in bed and each time, the people in town grabbed up pails or stained washtubs and caught the brief downpours and some stood out in the falling rain and watched the zigzag lights shoot across the plump gray sky while I remained afraid that Leviathan might show or that any false shadow on the horizon might be that awful dragon, but each time my worries were proven unfounded.
When Andrew awoke in full force, he asked me for his severed hand, and I returned it to him in a wide mouth jar and he examined it and thanked me for keeping it; the dead thing was rotted, and bones began to emerge from the flesh around the fingertips and knuckles.
Gemma came and her presence had become a custom and upon him seeing her, he recoiled and told her to leave him be, but she couldn’t and instead went to him on the bed where she’d sit on the edge and reach out with her own scarred hands and he’d tell her, “Leave me alone.”
She wept, but the boy kept a stern expression, and she nearly stopped coming once he’d made himself clear that he no longer loved her.
It had been a week since Gemma’s last visit and nearly three since me and Dave first brought the boy to my home and I finally asked the boy in the bed, “Was it necessary to hurt the girl like that?” It was night out and through a crack in my room’s door, I could see the faint push of the moon’s milk splash light.
“I’m here because of her,” he told me.
“You’re here because of her father.”
“He hates me.”
“Do you hate her?”
“I couldn’t hate her ever.”
“Are you trying to protect her or yourself?” I asked.
“It could be both, but I don’t wanna’ talk about it. I think I’d like to go west though. It’d do me good to get out on my own, away from here.” Andrew pulled himself into a sit in the center of the mattress, moving slowly for his injuries, and draped the blanket around his shoulders then pulled the covering in close near his throat. “I don’t think I like it here—there’s nothing stopping me leaving either.”
“You’d certainly die on your own.”
“Then I’ll wait for those weirdo, pointed hats and I’ll ask them to take me with them.”
“Maybe.” I thought of how I’d told Suzanne I’d visit in a month’s time since their last arrival in Golgotha and the time had nearly come. “Perhaps we ought to find you a chaperone.”
More days passed us by, and Andrew felt better to remove himself from bed and properly bathe and I showed him the dosage he should take then let him look after his own medication. His spirits remained low while his cheeks ran with more color and although he hobbled about, he seldom went from my home and kept to himself—on more than one occasion, I tried to get him to go to market with me and he refused each time. Andrew’s brooding nature was an illness I couldn’t help and maybe that’s why whenever Dave came with the mutt—he’d taken to calling the animal Trouble due to the dog’s nature of going where it was forbade—Andrew’s face illuminated at the dog and the dog would go and rest its head between the boy’s knees whenever he sat and look up and the boy rubbed the dog’s ears and whispered to it secrets that he didn’t care about sharing.
Gemma came again and this time she was not the fawning doll of affection, but angry and rightly so; she’d pushed into my home after a light knock and Dave and Andrew and Trouble, and I each turned to see who might enter the already cramped room. The girl shut the door gently behind her then stepped quickly across the room, removing her head wrap. “You’re leaving?” she asked while pointing a finger at Andrew’s chest; the poke to his breastbone made a sound and her stance was aggressive, and she towered over him where he sat on the edge of the bed with Trouble at his feet; the dog merely lifted her head and examined the people. “I could kill you.”
“They already tried that!” Andrew spit with his words. “Besides, who told you that?” His eyes shot to me where I’d taken up leaning at the corner near the door.
I shook my head while Dave shifted nervously from his right foot to his left foot.
“It doesn’t matter,” she said. Her hands shook while she made them into frustrated claws. “How could you?”
“Go home.” The young man spoke dully as his eyes went dim.
“I’m going with you,” she said.
“The hell you are,” I spoke up.
Gemma pivoted then cut her eyes at me. “Why not?”
“Did you fuckin’ forget what happened last time? You ain’t going anywhere.”
“Do you really think my father would actually let everyone go without water until they die?”
“You know him, don’t you?” I said.
She sighed then sat on the bed alongside the boy.
Andrew shifted from her then said, “I don’t want you to come with me. Stay here,” then he added, “Stay away from me.”
Gemma left, not even caring to return the disguise to her head in her hurry; once she was gone and there was no indication of her return, Dave spoke, “You did the right thing.” He clenched his jaw.
Me and Dave went to Felina’s at night if only to have a place to go where we could speak without the boy’s ears; he’d had enough trouble as of late and did not need to be caught amid a coup. We’d left Trouble with him and although he’d given us a concerned look, the boy merely shrugged and went to playing tug-o-war with the mutt on the end of an old rag. The brothel had become a meeting place for me and him where we would go and whisper—it had been a long time since I’d had anyone to do that with on a regular basis.
Dave had informed me that his friend—the one that worked in the basements alongside the Boss’s stores—wanted to meet in person to plan our next moves. It should also be good, on the chance that anything happened to Dave, I would know the face of the man.
Felina’s first floor was empty besides us, and the barwoman bathed in candlelight, and not a peep came from upstairs; we’d taken up in what had become our usual table and each object and person were caught in dancing ribbons of orange light.
“I’ll be gone for weeks,” I warned Dave, “I won’t be able to help you till I return.” It was true; the travel to Alexandria would take a long time, and longer still if Suzanne forced me to hesitate.
He nodded as Felina brought us our water and then leaned in close, took a sip, then nodded again, seemingly stuck in thinking. “You don’t mean to slip out on me, do you?”
I shook my head. “I’ve got a person to see. Whatever transpires here and the aftermath, I want to see them one last time if it means I’m to throw my life away on this uprising you’ve got.” I took my own cup and drank it in one go then set it away.
There was a long pause where he rubbed his thumbs along the rim of his cup and stared into the pool there; he opened his mouth as though to say something then shut it again.
“I keep my deals.” A chill pushed through me.
“I know. Who would’ve thought I’d trust you?” He smacked his lips.
“I’ll come back.”
“I know.”
“I mean it.”
He finished his own water. “Let me go with you.”
“Hm?”
“You’re taking the boy out west, out to where the wizards are, huh?”
“Sure.”
“Well, I’d like to go and see if they’d care to send any aid.”
I fought a smile. “They don’t fight. They’re soft folks.”
“Still.”
“Still what? I just told you. You’re not going to raise them to start a war. They’re traders, pagans—liars too. Proactive violence is something they don’t condone.”
“They couldn’t give us some—I don’t know. Don’t they have like spells or something they can teach us?”
I caught a surprised laugh in my cupped hand. “You think—It doesn’t work like that.”
Dave began to fidget in his seat. “You don’t haf’ta make me feel stupid.”
Without even realizing it, I reached out with a hand and put it on his shoulder for comfort, “Sorry,” I quickly withdrew the hand, “It’s not like that.”
“Well, what is like then?”
Just then, the door to Felina’s pushed in to reveal a haggard gentleman, pale, angular cheekbones, and deep eyes; it could only be Dave’s friend from the basements. The man came to our table and sat across from us, keeping his hands together and massaging his knuckles in front of his chest then leaning forward preparing a whisper; Felina, from her post behind the counter, shot a glance to us gathered, but otherwise continued in her own concerns, reading some book she kept with her.
“I’ve got something you should see,” said the man.
Dave grinned, but I did not care for the cut of the man’s gib, and I sat a bit straighter in my seat—Dave greeted the man warmly, “Mills, this is Harlan.”
The man shot a glance to me then a small nod, “Yeah, I know him.” Mills directed his attention back to Dave, “I’ve got something you should see. Outside. Right this moment.”
An ethereal dreamlike pause fell across the table, and I felt lightheaded and even Dave’s demeanor changed. There was a brief smile that fell across Mills’s face, but it was gone just as quickly as he shifted in his seat.
Finally, I spoke, “You could lie better.”
“I’m not lying,” protested Mills.
“How many are there?” I unsheathed the knife from my belt and traced my eyes across the dark and windowless room.
Mills opened his face, incredulous, and then shut it and slumped on his seat. “What are you talking about?”
“How many are waiting outside for us? Are they here to kill us or do they intend to capture? Say it plain and don’t try to deny it.”
“You fella’s are paranoid, huh?” said Mills.
Dave stood and put a hand on my shoulder, but I shirked it away, and the man chewed on the inside of his mouth then said, “Mills, please tell me you didn’t turn us in.”
“I wouldn’t,” said Mills. He scoffed. “There’s no way I would. How could you even think that?”
“Did they tell you you’d be safe? Did they tell you that everything was fine? I’ll tell you something—nothing that happens in this town’s fine. If you can’t see that.” Dave drifted off. “Well, Harlan,” he directed his attention to me, “What now?”
“We could skin him,” I brandished my knife and Mills recoiled. “I’m kidding. If those troopers are outside waiting on us, then we’ve got bad trouble on our hands. If we don’t do something quick, they’re liable to kick that door in and spray us dead.”
“You could go quietly,” offered Mills. “That Harold likes you pretty good,” he nodded at me, “I don’t think they’d hurt you bad.”
“So,” I said, “He admits at last. What’s the number? How many wall men did those jackals send?”
“Just the Sheriff. He wanted to talk. When I spoke to him, he seemed more pleasant than most.”
Dave moved to the counter where Felina was and he began saying something to her, hushed.
“What’s the Sheriff want?”
“He said he wanted to talk to you.”
“I don’t’ have a thing to say to the man.”
“I believe it. I believe he wants to talk with you and nothing more.” Mills seemed tired.
I kept my knife at the ready.
Dave returned to the table and stood beside Mills where he sat, “She said there’s a back way out,” said Dave.
We moved and Mills remained, but Dave rounded the table far more quickly than I believed him capable, pulled Mills to his feet by the scruff on the back of the man’s neck and without too much protest, Mills was our captive.
“I’ll scream,” said Mills.
“If you do, this blade’s going straight up your ass,” I said.
The three of us, in a strange marching line with Mills in front followed by Dave then me, rounded Felina’s counter and we followed the woman into the backroom where she lived; in the far corner was a bed with a sink—standard amenities—a few old books, and an exposed closet off the wall where clothes hung. She ushered us toward the rear of the room, furthest from where we’d come, and pushed a doorway into the warm black night that smelled of chicken feces.
Dave directed a whisper to the woman, “They might hurt you for helping us. Come with us.”
“Fuck ‘em,” she said, then pulled the door shut with her still on the other side.
We were there in the dirt street on the backside of the brothel, and it was quiet and empty—most of the exposed windows down the lane were black save the hydro towers. We took off, Dave keeping one of Mills’s arms pushed high on his back so that the man couldn’t move too far off the directed course.
“Where do we go?” said Dave, “Aw hell, I don’t even know where to go!”
“This way,” I said.
“Where are you leading us?” he asked.
“I’ve got to get my things.”
“You’re going home? They’ll be waiting there, won’t they?”
Just then, gunfire erupted from the direction of Felina’s; it was a short spurt, followed by perhaps shouting, then another volley of gunfire and then it was quiet.
Dave shifted on his feet, still holding Mills, like he intended to rush back; I put a hand on him and shook my head.
“Where do we go?” Small terror melted with his voice.
“We’ve gotta get out of town.”
“They’ll shoot us from the walls.”
Mills mumbled, “Well you can just leave me here.”
Ignoring this, I said, “All of my things are home,” then I thought to add, “What about Andrew? If they’ve already ransacked my place, they’ve surely killed him.”
“Trouble too,” said Dave, “Oh god.”
Then the bells over the hall of Bosses rang and my stomach twisted; lights in homes began illuminating in response to the ruckus and denizens stepped from their places, looking up and down the way. We stood there in the street and for the first time in a long time, I was frozen. Dave pushed on down an alley, Mills protested in saying that his arm was broken (it wasn’t) and I followed, totally bedazzled.
In the rush, Dave let go of our prisoner and directed me to keep the man and then he asked, “Have you got matches—a lighter? Something!”
I fumbled in my jacket pocket and produced a lighter; Dave snatched the thing from me, and we moved on further down the alley, further from the bells—along the way Mills cursed us and Dave flinched and balked at every person we moved by in the shadows, for they might be a wall man. People began screaming and more gunfire rang out—this time ahead of us; we spilled out of the alley into an opening which connected several narrow streets where two soldiers were standing over a body in the dark; Dave stopped ahead, and we shrank back into the alley then pressed ourselves against the exterior wall of an abode where the overhanging catwalks kept us in shadow.
One of the wall men kicked the unmoving body then fired another round into it; the corpse spasmed momentarily. If I had a softer heart, I would’ve vocalized the reason for the killing, but I knew because I’d seen it happen before; when killing started, those with the will to do so always stepped to the occasion. They’d heard the same gunfire we’d heard and decided not to be left out. The wall man fired another round into the body and for a flash, his face was illuminated, and I could see he was young—even if the millisecond of glow had twisted his expression in a wild blaze.
“Lemme go!” hushed Mills, popping me squarely in the groin with his free hand.
As he launched away from us in the shadows, I huffed forward, swiping my blade wildly, eyes blurred; with reckless thought, I would’ve gone after him, but Dave reached out to stop me and Mills charged toward the wall men in the square opening; I think he shouted something at them—maybe it was about where we were hiding and about how we’d been terrible captors.
The traitor danced with the echo of gunfire and the soldiers had a new body for target practice. The wall men paid us no mind in our poor hiding place—wilder gunpowder screams filled the night air and blood began to drift on the wind.
I’d not even noticed Dave holding my hand in the dark as we took to crouching behind rubbish pushed to the sides of the alley. “We’ll split up,” said Dave, letting go of my hand.
“Wait,” I slid my back up the wall to stand, putting my knife away, “That sounds like a terrible idea.”
“I know,” he said, both of us remaining in shadow, close enough that our shoulders were touching, “I’m heading towards the hall.”
There was a long pause; more shrieks echoed around us in that narrow passage and then I nodded.
“To the basements. To the gunpowder. I’ll try and catch you near the gate. If not.” He shook his head. “Goodbye tinman.”
Dave launched himself incredibly quickly from the shadows then moved the way we’d come from, keeping low and weaving. I soon followed, and I believe I saw him circling around one of the hydro towers in the ensuing chaos. A young boy was shoved into the moonlight where the brace of a rifle met his head; a woman was declothed then beheaded; an infant was sent through the air from the end of a mighty swing where it met the exterior wall of a storage shed. I saw them all and in the fury of the wall men, I lost sight of Dave and I kept to the darkness and held in my screams to remain unseen.
Doubling back some around the area by Felina’s where the buildings opened some, I saw Boss Maron barking orders, a club used to point before he put it to use against bewildered citizens. The night was cool and lonely, as I’d been accustomed, I moved quickly and without worry—survival reigned supreme in the labored breaths I inhaled through Golgotha’s blood-soaked streets where people pushed by or hid in the darkest recesses; a few times I happened by an open window and saw people scrunched in a corner on their haunches with their eyes closed and sometimes they prayed. Upon nearing the stairs that led to my home—the steps mere minutes away—a man scrambled around on his hands and knees. Thinking I could propel over him, he caught my foot and I stumbled and twisted around, ready to stick him with my knife; the man threw himself at my waist, clinging around my hips with locked arms, begging up at me with blood in his face. Moonlight caught the shine of his own mishappen brain exposed along the right side of his shattered skull. “Help! I’m on fire!” screamed the man, foam clung to his mouth, “Water! I’m burning!” I bit my lip and shoved the man off and he continued scrambling madly in the dark till he found a tub of stagnant water—knee high—precariously pushed against the wall of a nearby alley and plunged his head into the murkiness and he did not move again.
With focus, I rushed on, passing by executions in the streets, screams of mouths ground in the soil beneath boots, and all the while the moon hung between the shadows of the tall buildings, swathed in a gown of mist in a sky of absent stars so the night stretched like the void it was.
Coming to the stairs that led to the catwalks where my home was, a pale hand, stained dull red, shot from the darkness beneath the steps and held onto my ankle—a yell escaped me and I stumbled back, kicking at the hand with my free foot. The hand recoiled, cursed, then Gemma removed herself from the space beneath the stairs; scarcely, I could make out the face of Andrew still there in the darkness and the low growl of Trouble and the chaos fell away for a moment, and I asked the girl, “Are you hurt?” examining the blood on her clothes, on her hands. “What are you doing here?”
“I killed him,” she said while Andrew came from the recesses, the mutt at his side; the boy had my old shotgun slung over his shoulder, “I killed him,” the girl repeated, “So I could go. He’s dead.” Her eyes were far, and her fists hung at her sides.
“You’re all alive?” My quivering words barely registered to myself over the wails and clacks of war toys and a wall man began to pass us by, chasing after a boy with a long-flamed torch pushed over his head by his scrawny arm while he caterwauled a primitive shout into the night—the wall men stopped at us.
The soldier’s eyes reflected amidst the overhead catwalk shadows, and his facial hair was thin enough to be a stain and he raised a pistol to my face, and seeing the black hole of the barrel I merely closed my eyes, wincing, waiting for it. “Get inside. Please,” said the man before I cracked my eyes to see the openness he’d filled was empty, the clank of his gear rattled in his absence before disappearing after him.
“Might’ve killed you,” said Andrew.
I shook the thought from my head. “We should go.”
Gemma rubbed the dried blood down the front of herself, “He dropped so fast.”
“Shh.” I grabbed the girl’s hand and the boy followed at a restrained pace, the dog sniffing after, tail pulled between its legs, and I happened to notice its ears perking at whatever sound when I’d glance to be sure they came. We gave the hydro towers a wide berth, keeping to the western side of town till we met the buildings nearest the wall where there was relative quiet from the devastation; onlookers still pushed their moonlight glazed faces from apertures and watched us go and some called after us, but we ignored them. “Keep up!” I urged the youngins, “Don’t dally! Don’t fall behind!”
“It’s hard keeping this fucking thing and watching the dog!” said Andrew.
I reached over, slid the gun from his body, and put it across my chest in both hands. “Did you happen to grab any of the ammo?”
His refusal to answer made me slip the strap over my shoulder and we carried on till we met an alley that slithered to the opening of the southern square where the gate was. We hung in the darkness by a dead metal wagon of crates covered by a stained blanket and then I was at a loss. Smoke met us and I was sure there was a fire the way we’d come. Perhaps it was for the smoke or fire or the blood, but upon nosing out from the corner that led into the square, the snipers on the wall too began firing their weapons and I was certain they’d seen me and were shooting at me for a moment, but upon freezing in my position, I realized the people on the wall’s ramparts fired at something beyond; a volley of them resounded and I felt the others pull in close to me so we were all clumped and touching and the dog had gone from flinching to shivering for each round was so quick after the last. Surely, if Dave intended to meet me there at the square, he’d be there—my eyes scanned the black scenery.
“Mutants!” a woman on the wall shouted to her comrades, “More ‘en I’ve ever seen! Get your asses up here!”
The kids babbled something, and I hushed them and told them to stay in the darkness while I moved forward where large gashes of bluish moon threatened to betray my location and I moved to the unguarded electrical switch—surely they’d close it back soon enough—opened its door and flipped the switch and the grinding of the gate coming to life was never so loud before as its clockwork innards did their job. I could only imagine the bafflement of the wall men. I motioned for the kids to follow, and Gemma lifted the dog up in her arms, still making better pace than Andrew. The sound of boots rattling on the wall overhead came and someone fired down at me, but I pushed back towards the wall and the dirt ground between me and Gemma erupted spits of dirt. The girl shrieked, coming to a halt so the boy slammed into her, and they both stumbled in a mess, and caught one another without falling. Trouble yelped.
I pushed from my spot, gathered them in my arms and we moved like a strange centipede to the opened gate where we slid through to immediately be met by a meridian of glowing yellow eyes perhaps fifty yards out. The mutants, things once human but twisted by some greater demon, fought over one another in their lurch with jagged motions, pale in the moonlight without hair and thin skin that clung to bald heads and mouths blackened from filth and teeth nubbed from the circular grinding of their jaws; the creatures came with their homunculus growls, their hunched backs, their lizard quickness. They came for the direction of the open gate and all I heard were screams and the scuffle of our shared balance as we took across the blue horizon of open space and I ushered across that expanse with the black ruins on the horizon and the smoke rose over the starless sky and although I was certain we’d be shot dead in the back, providence saved us—no, it was Dave.
The earth trembled beneath our feet, and I heard the confetti of rubble on rubble and the earth itself screamed and I knew Dave had done what he’d set out to.
First/Previous
Archive

First/Previous
I’s but a boy and no higher than a mule’s ass when I fell in alongside the others in the shotgun infantry because I couldn’t ride a mount for the life of me and besides, whenever there was wreckage up the way or somewhere we couldn’t get a wagon through, I’d slip ahead and function just as well as any scout in my quick footwork. The Rednecks (called so much because of the kerchiefs we displayed around our throats) were a marching group that I was born into—there’d at one time been such companies that traversed the wastes besides the wizards. That was before Baphomet or Leviathan or even Mephisto; this was when the demons we’d come across were of lowly intelligence or manageable strength. That is not to say that there were never any close calls in those days—after all, the demon armies that’d come so long before had taken the world, but still a human could scratch by and sometimes even bands of us would take up arms, march in the dens of those blasphemous creatures, and deal with them in the ways we knew how. The day I’d been given the long gun, Jackson had not been so eager to do so because I think he was my father and he always had a certain warmth and he’d taken me in as a son, but I never knew for sure or even asked. It was in the way that I’d sometimes catch him watching me from the corner of my eye whenever I was feeding the hounds or cleaning around camp, and that’s how I’d come at guessing he was my dad—it was that and his affections that’d be rare and foreign in the company.
The Rednecks marched the eastern United States in the days with more towns and even in that time there was a hope among them that this too should pass as all other historical calamities, but the eve of destruction was upon us (maybe it was always). No one remembered dates in our company so I couldn’t say when my birthday was and so I don’t know how old I ever was in my life, but that didn’t matter because an adult was so when they were given their weapon and pushed to the fore. We were warriors for God and some would comment on how we’d tricked ourselves, because sometimes, camped on roadsides or even in downtowns when allowed, we’d erect that great big wooden crucifix that Sibylle kept along with her things and we’d kneel and pray on the ground and it was good—for all of those I’ve witnessed bonding themselves in their religion, damning themselves or others because of their bodies, our religion (not so much old-time as the song goes) seemed to set us free. As much as we concerned ourselves in those prayers, it was that we were the image of God, and so should do God’s work. So, we did.
The company marched north in the foothills of the Appalachians with those great dead and brown mountains on their lefthand then they’d lodge in Charlottesville for a time and then cross over the range and march south with the mountains on their lefthand again till they reached midway through Tennessee and then they’d cut southwest and touch with Marietta before heading northeast then north again. It was a cyclical patrol they took and it just so happened that Sibylle was pregnant all those years ago on the verge of a swing up north and that’s how I came into this world in one of those old canvas tents, the first sights probably dirt and whatever rags that’d been gathered around; some of those in the company told me that Sibylle had squatted, dropped me clear on my head then remounted her horse and ordered everyone else to carry on—she was strong, but I always took that as a folk story anyway.
The story goes that Sibylle took many men to her tent—women too when the mood so pleased her—and so it could’ve been any number of the men in the company that was my father, but I really like to think it was Jackson.
The woman wasn’t ever looked down on for it—her promiscuity was seen as a strength if nothing else and besides she wasn’t married—it took me growing up to understand she’d went on with a persona to do the things she did. She was the first to fight, the last out of a bad situation, and whatever nonsense a man might give her, she’d return with near immediate violence. She was a hard woman, but not without kindnesses in her own way. Maybe the world did it to her, or it could’ve been the fighting, or it could’ve been any number of other things—it would do no good to speculate over a dead person like that. What I do know is that stories would permeate whenever we’d sit around trash wood fires and people did speculate her motives. She wore a cowboy hat and a pistol across the front of her pants so that the holster swung between her thighs, and she was missing her left eye—over the socket was a brown leather patch tailored in Charlottsville. My mother—if that is what she should be called—spat, drank, fought, spoke gruffly, and was business until nighttime. Given the nature of her, the stories around those fires would come and oftentimes the questioning over her missing eye would enter circulation; some said it was thumbed out of her skull by a scorned lover and yet others guessed it was a demon that got it. No one ever knew for certain because she never offered an explanation, and I was never told.
As far as I know, the woman weened me quick as a babe and then I was out of her tent and among the company; this is where Jackson took me on and mentored me; my first words—I don’t recall what they were—were said to him. When I was still much too small to even help sufficiently with chores, I remember he’d tell me stories from books, and it wasn’t long until Jackson was teaching me the letters and the words they formed; his recital was dim in the tent at night whenever he’d pitch an elbow alongside my sleeping bag on the floor and lay there and read to me by the light of a candle. I’d fall to sleep quick, but he never seemed to mind; more than once I woke before him and the candle would still be going, and the book would be placed beside him on a small table and at some point, in the night, he would’ve thrown an arm across me.
The childhood I had in the company was shorter than others, but for the moments it had, I do cherish. I learned to read which is more than most and I learned the self-sufficiency that came from such a life, but that’s not exactly so accurate; for all the skills they’d given me, self-sufficiency was hardly a bother in those times I patrolled the Appalachians with them. It’s not like anything else. It was family in the way that I trusted each of them—every single one. And as I grew up, we’d sleep sometimes three or five to a tent so that I’d never worry because there were always warm bodies beside me. Warm bodies that’d fight for me just as I’d for them. If it came to it, we would die for one another, because our goal of ridding the scourge was greater than any one of our lives. So, we believed, and maybe we were right.
Or maybe we were fools; some of the townsfolk or merchants or travelers we’d occasionally converse with had no qualms in telling us so. It wasn’t that we were ever contracted to take out demons, so oftentimes we’d be given flak in our endeavors. A town would be just as likely to look at us pitiably as they would be to offer us refuge or meals and sometimes, we’d accept supplies that were offered freely, but it didn’t matter because we did what we did for ourselves and it wouldn’t matter the reserves we had—the only time the company was threatened outright by humans were the events in which we attempted to conscript others; the conscripts were plentiful, but many townsfolks did not care for us taking their citizens. Parents cursed us for leading their children astray, city leaders decried us for depleting their populace, but there was always more ready to take up the righteous cause. In the time when I started the fight, our numbers fluctuated gently above or below the cusp of a hundred.
Then I had a brother too, during a time before I’d been put to the company’s task of demon-slaying he was born, but I think biologically we only ever shared Sibylle; even still when the boy was ushered on by her, Jackson took him to raise as well and the boy was handsomer and smarter than I’d been, but there was little jealousy I had for him. His name was Billy and as years went by, he shared the face of another man in our company—John. It’s doubtful that John ever made a claim on my brother—there was none I ever knew of anyway—but not a soul among us seemed outwardly affronted by the bohemian arrangement of our family. John in question was a like many of the men in our company, aloof and his origins were from a land I didn’t know from the south; I’d heard it said a few times that when he’d enlisted years prior, his name before was Juan and the others among the gang took to calling him John; if it bothered him, he never showed it—what he cared about most was the guitar he kept with him wherever he went. Some naked black nights among the rocky hills, around the trash wood fires, he would serenade the gathered crowd in Spanish song, and I never knew the words, but his voice was always slow and never loud and it was only once the company procured a cache of liquors that he’d call for his guitar and someone would bring it, and no one complained; often times a person might glimpse the sway of those gathered, lilting sitting silhouettes listening against the darker shadows beyond.
I’d been given the gun and put to the sole mission and quickly fell in with John because he led the infantrymen and with me being the newest as well as the youngest, the hazing began immediately; I didn’t know how to walk a straight line or keep up with anyone else (never mind I had half the stride of a man then) and any time I’d tidy my pack, I’d find my gear strewn on the ground and the deflated bag resting atop it like a blanket.
My feet ached and John shouted, “Vamanos!” So, I vamanosed at the rear of the pack. We were marching ahead of the wagons and the others, and we’d just left a small trading unit on our trek up I-85, beyond Marietta but not quite across what’d once been Lake Hartwell; some of the maps read okay but many of the roads were hard travelling with their uprisen destruction and the strange weeds we saw from time to time that sprouted from cracks like twisted decaying yellow fingers. The roads could be hard travelling on whatever vehicles we had and so the infantrymen would be sent ahead to be sure the way was clear. The traders we’d met further south on I-85 said there was a nest somewhere and they’d given the place a wide berth and we’d walked so far ahead of the company I was certain the traders were stupid or liars as the road beyond seemed empty and clear save the dead rust buckets lining each shoulder that’d long since been pushed or towed from the way. Just as I’d thought so, John came to a halt at the front and knelt and withdrew a scope to gaze ahead and gave a brief signal for all others to go low.
Twenty people knelt there on the broken asphalt and I was among them, at the rear as it was my first bit of action, so I saw them exchanging glances to one another while John peered through the scope and many of their faces were not much older than mine and one of them lifted a ball cap from his head and steam rolled off his short kept hair before he scooped the cap back over his crown, holding it by the bill. “You smell that?” asked the young girl next to him.
“Stinks,” someone said.
The young man with the cap finally muttered, “Oh, I know that smell.” He then removed his pack and began fighting with it.
John whispered, “Masks!” The word hissed through his teeth, and he was quick to put on his gas mask and did so with an expertise greater than anyone else present. He took his scattergun from the strap on his shoulder and pulled from his knees onto his heels.
The mask was difficult to see through, and hot with the sun coming on us the way it was, and I shifted around for my peripherals were consumed by the blackness therein. There were few less quick on the draw than I and one of them was the boy with the cap; he’d dropped his hat and was still attempting to yank the strap of the mask free from the pack he’d thrown between his knees; he had the filter end out and was pulling hard and panicked while the head straps remained stuck on some piece of equipment within the recesses of the bag. John crept near the boy, gun held like a mop by his side and tore the mask free from the bag before punching the boy lightly in the chest with the hand that held the mask; the man let the mask fall to the boy’s lap. The boy scrambled to slide into it and John watched over us, returning to his position at the fore and I saw the creatures scratching across the road up the way, raised grotesquely swollen heads sloppily rolling on their small bodies.
“Mutants,” said the young man once the mask was over his face; his cap lay on the ground, shorn from his head.
All readied their guns, so I took mine and saw that some reached for sidearms then shifted across either side of the road at John’s motioning requests. We took to the sides, hiding among the bulwark of jalopies and I stuck near the rear of the group, sidling down against the wheel of a van and peeked around the corner to spy on the creatures drawing nearer. Gas expelled from their heads then reflated and I can not say who it was that fired first, all I know is that the maelstrom of bullets that followed was deafening; expertly the company pincered the creatures, taking careful aim and ending each. Chlorine gas erupted from the manmade holes in the creatures’ heads and their bodies laid in the road, flat and grotesque in the yellowing fluids that ejaculated from their wounds.
John moved forward and began taking his sidearm to those demons that still pushed on a limb or trembled with life and the others knew the drill and began doing the same and I crept from my hiding spot behind the van, partially in awe at the quick organization and partially ashamed for never having fired my weapon. I took to the crowd of demons and began firing my own weapon at any potential among their blasphemous ranks and in minutes the crowd of fart heads (I’d not yet heard that nickname) were as dead as could be.
The Chlorine gas dissipated and some of the infantry began removing their masks and the young man who’d had difficulties with his mask prior now kept it protruding off his forehead like a horn and he was smiling as were the others and I felt my hands shaking; the recoil of the shotgun could’ve been to blame, but I think it was an introduction to new terror, the possibility of mortality—of my own mortality.
John removed his mask and joined the crew of us there in a knot among the unmoving demons and he rummaged through his coat and removed a small cigar, lit it from a match, then placed it in the corner of his mouth. “Coño,” he spoke to me, and I knew that word, “Why are you so scared? I see you shaking. What’s gotten under your skin?” His smile was playful and then the others joined in teasing me and from there on, I promised to steel my nerves forevermore, knowing I’d break it anyway.
So it would be that before the rest of our jolly band arrived on the scene, the scouts would push on in fewer numbers and John specifically asked for me to accompany them.
Moving from the south were the others and their blots became more focused on their arrival and ahead of them all was Sibylle riding the aged painted stallion; beyond her were wagons and jury-rigged vehicles and walkers too, and I thought I could just make out the gas-powered caleche Jackson drove for the plumes of smoke it sent from its exhaust.
“There’s a nest ahead we should clear,” said John, dead in tone and shouldering the strap of the shotgun.
The young man, still with his mask clasped to his forehead, searched the muck, and found the hat he’d lost. “Smells somethin’ awful.” He made a face.
A handful of us moved ahead, perhaps six of us, and left the others to meet the rest of our crew.
The young man, now carrying the gas mask by his fingers lackadaisically with his shotgun in the crook of his elbow, fell in alongside me. “Name’s Gibby. You?”
“Harlan.”
“Nice to meet’cha, Harlan. You’re one of Sibylle’s aint you?”
“I don’t know about that.”
“Well sure, you hang with that mechanic all day. What’s his name?”
“Jackson.”
“That’s the one. He’s good with his hands, but I hear he’s a lame shot.” There was quiet among us as we took the road further, each of us kicking up loose asphalt or snagging boots along those weird weeds; John was in the front, three others in the middle—they jabbered among themselves—and me and Gibby there at the back. The sky was azure, and the clouds were white as cotton and drifted overhead like there wasn’t an issue with the world. A flock of birds took across in a lopsided formation and upon either side of the road and beyond were dead woods without leaves, naked and gray and tired seeming. “Don’t take none of what that old guy said about you. I mean, don’t let it go to your heart. You know?”
“I wasn’t.”
“He’s just a real tough sonofabitch. I’ve been with the company,” Gibby’s eyes traced the sky overhead like he figured the math invisible before his eyes, “Three years or so and he’s a good one. He’s saved me so many times I’ve lost track.” The young man grinned, and I saw he was missing a few teeth. “You saw what happened with that mask of mine. He might talk hard, but he’s soft in there.”
“I guess.”
“You didn’t ever shoot anything moving before today, did you?”
“I shot a feral hound some time ago.”
Gibby looked on with mild surprise, “Did you? Wasn’t a good dog, was it? Like a pet?”
I shook my head.
“It gets easier with time—the scouts and the ones in the infantry always crack up and try to take potshots at the newcomers. You’re green so don’t let it get you down.”
“Alright.”
“Never seen a nest, have you?”
“Nope.
“Well, you’re in for something.”
John froze in his step and traced his eyes across the ground before turning to us and calling us to gather. Marked across the dilapidated road were yellowed smatterings of liquid; chlorine hung in the air. “Masks,” he whispered, “Guns ready.” Each of us subordinates did as was ordered. He pushed us near the trash wood off the road, past an overturned emptied trailer, and as we pushed through the median where a thin and vacant forest grew sickly, there was another road just beyond, just as poor, and further still there was a hole the size of a well on the far side of that newly seen road and we hushed along, following John’s lead and we went crouching in the shadow of him, keeping mind of noise. He motioned me forward in the line and the sound emanating from the pit was liquid and nauseating.
“Yes?” I asked as I came nearest to him, hunkered as low as I could be.
“Ever use a grenade?”
I shook my head and unease swelled but I pushed it away.
He took the round object from his belt and passed it to me. “There’s a pin. Pull the pin. Throw the grenade in that hole. It’s that simple.”
I moved to the edge of the hole, teeth bared from within my mask, fingers wrapped hard around the grenade, and I came to the edge and was immediately struck by a sudden lurch of vertigo as it went further into the earth than I could’ve imagined—the creatures clung to the walls of the tunnel, fat heads opening for the gas to spill forth from their ridged cloacal maws. I teetered on the tips of my toes and the air was thin and the lens of the mask through which I saw the world became fogged from the gas that erupted from the impossibly deep pit. There, just beyond those wretched things, I felt as though there was a light in the darkness breathing up at me like the earth and stone beneath was alive.
Ripping the pin from the grenade, I held it outstretched and dropped the thing; it went bouncing from to and fro within the hole and I was dazed and could not pull away.
Two hands yanked me from there just as I’d gone blind in the gas and the explosion erupted, sending a vibration beneath our feet. John ushered me away and the others followed, and I dared a glance over my shoulder to see the earth open then close and the tunnel fell in on itself—one of those things had clamored to the opening only to touch the ground with a near human palm before being sucked beneath. The ground encircling the hole fell in as did a portion of road and once it was done, there was a massive dip in the earth there, a testament to what was.
We took up along the tree line of dead vegetation, and I was still staring at the place the nest had been, dust coming to a fog around our knees and John barked out, “Keep your eyes sharp—see if there’s any stragglers.” There weren’t any left, but we took up a formation, sweeping the area; Gibby whispered something and kicked a rock and John flinched at the noise, giving the young boy an expression.
The nest had been cleared and we awaited the arrival of the others on the open road in a semicircle fashion, maintaining a level of apprehension at any potential threat—once the rest of the convoy had arrived at our location, we fell in alongside them and I took a moment to find Jackson; he was there in the caleche alongside Billy who sat over on his side in the throes of a good nap with his face in his hand—smoke bellowed up from the rear of Jackson’s contraption so that an open spot formed in the convoy for no one wanted to catch a face full of the black fumes. I began walking alongside the wagon’s slow pace.
“How was it?” asked Jackson.
“Scary,” I said.
“Yeah,” he said, “It’s always scary. Did you kill anything?”
“I did.”
“Good. If you keep doing that, you’ll be just fine.”
“John’s something.”
“He is. But you’d do well to keep on his good side. He’s tough, but competent.”
We moved on the rest of the day till the sun threatened darkness by horizon clouds and we took up camp just on the edge of Lake Hartwell—though by that time it was hardly a lake and looked shallow enough to be a nothing more than a decorative reflective pool.
The convoy unpacked canvas tents, took to burning stews over butane eyes and lighting lanterns and meager fires and John pulled me aside in the fray of passersby and told me that if I were to ever hesitate with an explosive like that again, he’d kick me into the hole and save everyone the trouble. I merely nodded at him and he took on towards the front of the convoy where Sibylle would be and my troupe of scouts was disbanded and I aided Jackson in folding out the rear of our wagon and we put on supper while Billy, still small and talkative, rummaged through the larder boxes I removed from the caleche and the boy, mischievous, found the jar of sugar we kept and began excavating the granular powder with his fingers and lathering his tongue with it and grinning; I stepped after him and snagged the jar from him, returning the cap over the container.
“Hey!” said Billy.
“We’ve only got so much.”
“So? We can get more.”
A warm smile overtook me then, “You plan on paying for it?”
“Sure. I’ll pay you back.”
“Of course, you would. How about until you’ve got enough money, you don’t eat all the sugar, huh?” I asked him.
A thought dawned over him, “It was your first patrol! Did you shoot anything? Did you powpow them?”
“Come help,” I moved over to Jackson where the man was cutting the bad parts from potatoes and I began at them with my own knife and Billy sat on the ground at our feet, playing with the bits that fell from our knives.
“Did you kill monsters?”
“Shh,” said Jackson, “Don’t bother Harlan.”
“I can talk about it,” I said.
Jackson frowned, “Alright.”
“What were they like?” asked Billy.
“There were dragons and shadow monsters and more,” I laughed.
“Were there, really?”
“Sure.” I laughed and dropped a potato into our pot broth.
Jackson pointed his knife not in anger, “Don’t joke about dragons.”
“Do dragons exist?” asked Billy.
“You just don’t joke about them, okay?” said Jackson.
“Have you ever seen them? Tandy and Tubs says they’re made up.”
“Well,” said Jackson, sending his own potato into the broth, “They’re right then.”
We ate a mess of watery stew—potatoes and onions and cloves of half-good garlic was what was left for hearty prep and in the night, after we’d finished our meal and washed our utensils and taken to the tent, Billy found the play gun that Jackson had made for him from scrounged scrap metal and pointed it at me and told me that he’d shoot me and I laughed and wrestled the gun from his little hands, putting him into a headlock and tossing the metal piece to the dirt floor of the tent.
“Quit playing—s’time for bed,” Jackson told us and although I was too old for it, Jackson read a story to Billy and I listened and I think Jackson knew I was listening because he’d periodically hesitate a page turn and look over to see me in my bedroll still awake; the story was old and it was about a man named Don that liked to read books and the man wanted to be a knight, but he had it all wrong.
First/Previous
Archive

Everything in my inventory is up for trade. The most valuable items are listed here, the rest you can find in My Inventory

Feel free to Add Me or even better send a Trade Offer. Open for any suggestions: upgrades, downgrades / knives, gloves, skins / stickers, patterns, floats.

All Buyouts are listed in cash value.

KNIVES

★ Butterfly Knife Lore (Factory New), B/O: $7194.77

★ Butterfly Knife Autotronic (Minimal Wear), B/O: $2025.74

⎯

★ M9 Bayonet Ultraviolet (Field-Tested), B/O: $557.87

★ M9 Bayonet Stained (Well-Worn), B/O: $529.41

★ M9 Bayonet Boreal Forest (Field-Tested), B/O: $465.39

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★ Talon Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $1295.27

★ Bayonet Tiger Tooth (Minimal Wear), B/O: $746.28

★ Karambit Bright Water (Field-Tested), B/O: $688.15

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★ Flip Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $547.93

★ Flip Knife Autotronic (Minimal Wear), B/O: $476.69

★ Flip Knife Case Hardened (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $278.18

★ Flip Knife Black Laminate (Well-Worn), B/O: $258.83

★ Flip Knife Urban Masked (Field-Tested), B/O: $181.64

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★ Stiletto Knife Marble Fade (Factory New), B/O: $686.04

★ Stiletto Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $665.41

★ Stiletto Knife, B/O: $601.39

★ Stiletto Knife Crimson Web (Field-Tested), B/O: $418.25

★ Stiletto Knife Night Stripe (Field-Tested), B/O: $227.80

★ Stiletto Knife Boreal Forest (Field-Tested), B/O: $194.96

★ Stiletto Knife Safari Mesh (Field-Tested), B/O: $192.79

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★ Nomad Knife Crimson Web (Field-Tested), B/O: $518.11

★ Nomad Knife Scorched (Field-Tested), B/O: $169.78

★ Nomad Knife Forest DDPAT (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $166.88

★ StatTrak™ Nomad Knife Blue Steel (Field-Tested), B/O: $335.79

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★ Skeleton Knife Stained (Well-Worn), B/O: $442.05

★ Skeleton Knife Urban Masked (Minimal Wear), B/O: $426.24

★ Skeleton Knife Boreal Forest (Field-Tested), B/O: $314.03

★ StatTrak™ Skeleton Knife Fade (Minimal Wear), B/O: $2361.28

★ StatTrak™ Skeleton Knife Urban Masked (Field-Tested), B/O: $376.53

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★ Ursus Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $557.12

★ Ursus Knife, B/O: $471.42

★ Ursus Knife Blue Steel (Minimal Wear), B/O: $212.37

★ Ursus Knife Case Hardened (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $187.66

★ Ursus Knife Damascus Steel (Field-Tested), B/O: $178.18

★ Ursus Knife Ultraviolet (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $155.13

★ Ursus Knife Boreal Forest (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $124.26

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★ Huntsman Knife Black Laminate (Minimal Wear), B/O: $204.83

★ Huntsman Knife Black Laminate (Field-Tested), B/O: $184.50

★ StatTrak™ Huntsman Knife Lore (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $224.11

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★ Bowie Knife Gamma Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $2142.02

★ Bowie Knife, B/O: $230.44

★ Bowie Knife Damascus Steel (Factory New), B/O: $209.20

★ Bowie Knife Ultraviolet (Minimal Wear), B/O: $180.51

★ Bowie Knife Ultraviolet (Field-Tested), B/O: $131.03

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★ Falchion Knife Night (Field-Tested), B/O: $132.54

★ Falchion Knife Urban Masked (Well-Worn), B/O: $112.81

★ Falchion Knife Scorched (Field-Tested), B/O: $108.81

★ Falchion Knife Forest DDPAT (Field-Tested), B/O: $107.82

★ Falchion Knife Safari Mesh (Field-Tested), B/O: $107.46

★ StatTrak™ Falchion Knife Ultraviolet (Field-Tested), B/O: $143.08

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★ Paracord Knife Crimson Web (Minimal Wear), B/O: $486.48

★ Paracord Knife Blue Steel (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $163.12

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★ Survival Knife Blue Steel (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $138.26

★ Survival Knife Night Stripe (Field-Tested), B/O: $131.03

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★ Gut Knife Sapphire (Minimal Wear), B/O: $1127.79

★ Gut Knife Gamma Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $286.17

★ Gut Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $246.55

★ Gut Knife Marble Fade (Factory New), B/O: $240.77

★ Gut Knife, B/O: $210.49

★ Gut Knife Lore (Field-Tested), B/O: $194.22

★ Gut Knife Case Hardened (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $151.51

★ Gut Knife Blue Steel (Minimal Wear), B/O: $124.94

★ Gut Knife Rust Coat (Well-Worn), B/O: $118.99

★ Gut Knife Boreal Forest (Minimal Wear), B/O: $109.80

★ StatTrak™ Gut Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $237.96

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★ Shadow Daggers Gamma Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $264.92

★ Shadow Daggers Marble Fade (Factory New), B/O: $253.03

★ Shadow Daggers Tiger Tooth (Factory New), B/O: $237.22

★ Shadow Daggers Crimson Web (Field-Tested), B/O: $153.40

★ Shadow Daggers Autotronic (Minimal Wear), B/O: $144.42

★ Shadow Daggers Blue Steel (Field-Tested), B/O: $105.20

★ StatTrak™ Shadow Daggers Damascus Steel (Minimal Wear), B/O: $150.46

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★ Navaja Knife Fade (Factory New), B/O: $365.99

★ Navaja Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $228.93

★ Navaja Knife Marble Fade (Factory New), B/O: $227.43

★ Navaja Knife Slaughter (Factory New), B/O: $209.06

★ Navaja Knife, B/O: $203.16

★ Navaja Knife Case Hardened (Well-Worn), B/O: $132.57

★ Navaja Knife Damascus Steel (Factory New), B/O: $121.69

★ Navaja Knife Damascus Steel (Minimal Wear), B/O: $109.95

★ Navaja Knife Damascus Steel (Field-Tested), B/O: $100.41

★ StatTrak™ Navaja Knife Fade (Factory New), B/O: $369.01

★ StatTrak™ Navaja Knife Damascus Steel (Field-Tested), B/O: $109.95

GLOVES

★ Sport Gloves Amphibious (Minimal Wear), B/O: $2394.67

★ Sport Gloves Omega (Well-Worn), B/O: $572.33

★ Sport Gloves Bronze Morph (Minimal Wear), B/O: $338.88

★ Sport Gloves Big Game (Field-Tested), B/O: $323.66

⎯

★ Specialist Gloves Marble Fade (Minimal Wear), B/O: $1652.07

★ Specialist Gloves Tiger Strike (Field-Tested), B/O: $599.14

★ Specialist Gloves Crimson Web (Well-Worn), B/O: $231.57

★ Specialist Gloves Buckshot (Minimal Wear), B/O: $126.21

⎯

★ Moto Gloves POW! (Minimal Wear), B/O: $996.99

★ Moto Gloves POW! (Field-Tested), B/O: $383.31

★ Moto Gloves POW! (Well-Worn), B/O: $276.00

★ Moto Gloves Turtle (Field-Tested), B/O: $180.28

⎯

★ Hand Wraps CAUTION! (Minimal Wear), B/O: $502.29

★ Hand Wraps Giraffe (Minimal Wear), B/O: $180.73

★ Hand Wraps CAUTION! (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $178.32

⎯

★ Driver Gloves Queen Jaguar (Minimal Wear), B/O: $181.01

★ Driver Gloves Rezan the Red (Field-Tested), B/O: $101.66

⎯

★ Broken Fang Gloves Jade (Field-Tested), B/O: $127.88

★ Broken Fang Gloves Needle Point (Minimal Wear), B/O: $124.55

⎯

★ Bloodhound Gloves Guerrilla (Minimal Wear), B/O: $127.94

★ Hydra Gloves Case Hardened (Field-Tested), B/O: $102.55

WEAPONS

AK-47 X-Ray (Well-Worn), B/O: $478.95

AUG Hot Rod (Factory New), B/O: $425.83

StatTrak™ M4A1-S Hyper Beast (Factory New), B/O: $413.95

M4A4 Daybreak (Factory New), B/O: $309.51

StatTrak™ AK-47 Aquamarine Revenge (Factory New), B/O: $305.43

AK-47 Case Hardened (Well-Worn), B/O: $196.38

StatTrak™ M4A4 Temukau (Minimal Wear), B/O: $174.64

P90 Run and Hide (Field-Tested), B/O: $167.03

AWP Asiimov (Field-Tested), B/O: $153.33

Souvenir SSG 08 Death Strike (Minimal Wear), B/O: $140.00

M4A1-S Printstream (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $124.70

StatTrak™ M4A1-S Golden Coil (Field-Tested), B/O: $117.48

AWP Asiimov (Well-Worn), B/O: $115.97

StatTrak™ Desert Eagle Printstream (Minimal Wear), B/O: $112.96

StatTrak™ AK-47 Asiimov (Minimal Wear), B/O: $110.85

Souvenir M4A1-S Master Piece (Well-Worn), B/O: $102.42

AK-47 Bloodsport (Minimal Wear), B/O: $100.53

Trade Offer Link - Steam Profile Link - My Inventory

Knives - Bowie Knife, Butterfly Knife, Falchion Knife, Flip Knife, Gut Knife, Huntsman Knife, M9 Bayonet, Bayonet, Karambit, Shadow Daggers, Stiletto Knife, Ursus Knife, Navaja Knife, Talon Knife, Classic Knife, Paracord Knife, Survival Knife, Nomad Knife, Skeleton Knife, Patterns - Gamma Doppler, Doppler (Phase 1, Phase 2, Phase 3, Phase 4, Black Pearl, Sapphire, Ruby, Emerald), Crimson Web, Lore, Fade, Ultraviolet, Night, Marble Fade (Fire & Ice, Fake FI), Case Hardened (Blue Gem), Autotronic, Slaughter, Black Laminate, Tiger Tooth, Boreal Forest, Scorched, Blue Steel, Vanilla, Damascus Steel, Forest DDPAT, Urban Masked, Freehand, Stained, Bright Water, Safari Mesh, Rust Coat, Gloves - Bloodhound Gloves (Charred, Snakebite, Guerrilla, Bronzed), Driver Gloves (Snow Leopard, King Snake, Crimson Weave, Imperial Plaid, Black Tie, Lunar Weave, Diamondback, Rezan the Red, Overtake, Queen Jaguar, Convoy, Racing Green), Hand Wraps (Cobalt Skulls, CAUTION!, Overprint, Slaughter, Leather, Giraffe, Badlands, Spruce DDPAT, Arboreal, Constrictor, Desert Shamagh, Duct Tape), Moto Gloves (Spearmint, POW!, Cool Mint, Smoke Out, Finish Line, Polygon, Blood Pressure, Turtle, Boom!, Eclipse, 3rd Commando Company, Transport), Specialist Gloves (Crimson Kimono, Tiger Strike, Emerald Web, Field Agent, Marble Fade, Fade, Foundation, Lt. Commander, Crimson Web, Mogul, Forest DDPAT, Buckshot), Sport Gloves (Pandora's Box, Superconductor, Hedge Maze, Vice, Amphibious, Slingshot, Omega, Arid, Big Game, Nocts, Scarlet Shamagh, Bronze Morph), Hydra Gloves (Case Hardened, Emerald, Rattler, Mangrove), Broken Fang Gloves (Jade, Yellow-banded, Unhinged, Needle Point), Pistols - P2000 (Wicked Sick, Ocean Foam, Fire Element, Amber Fade, Corticera, Chainmail, Imperial Dragon, Obsidian, Scorpion, Handgun, Acid Etched), USP-S (Printstream, Kill Confirmed, Whiteout, Road Rash, Owergrowth, The Traitor, Neo-Noir, Dark Water, Orion, Blueprint, Stainless, Caiman, Serum, Monster Mashup, Royal Blue, Ancient Visions, Cortex, Orange Anolis, Ticket To Hell, Black Lotus, Cyrex, Check Engine, Guardian, Purple DDPAT, Torque, Blood Tiger, Flashback, Business Class, Pathfinder, Para Green), Lead Conduit, Glock-18 (Ramese's Reach, Umbral Rabbit, Fade, Candy Apple, Bullet Queen, Synth Leaf, Neo-Noir, Nuclear Garden, Dragon Tatto, Reactor, Pink DDPAT, Twilight Galaxy, Sand Dune, Groundwater, Blue Fissure, Snack Attack, Water Elemental, Brass, Wasteland Rebel, Vogue, Franklin, Royal Legion, Gamma Doppler, Weasel, Steel Disruption, Ironwork, Grinder, High Beam, Moonrise, Oxide Blaze, Bunsen Burner, Clear Polymer, Bunsen Burner, Night), P250 (Apep's Curse, Re.built, Nuclear Threat, Modern Hunter, Splash, Whiteout, Vino Primo, Mehndi, Asiimov, Visions, Undertow, Cartel, See Ya Later, Gunsmoke, Splash, Digital Architect, Muertos, Red Rock, Bengal Tiger, Crimson Kimono, Wingshot, Metallic DDPAT, Hive, Dark Filigree, Mint Kimono), Five-Seven (Neon Kimono, Berries And Cherries, Fall Hazard, Crimson Blossom, Hyper Beast, Nitro, Fairy Tale, Case Hardened, Copper Galaxy, Angry Mob, Monkey Business, Fowl Play, Anodized Gunmetal, Hot Shot, Retrobution, Boost Protocol), CZ75-Auto (Chalice, Crimson Web, Emerald Quartz, The Fuschia is Now, Nitro, Xiangliu, Yellow Jacket, Victoria, Poison Dart, Syndicate, Eco, Hexane, Pole, Tigris), Tec-9 (Mummy's Rot, Rebel, Terrace, Nuclear Threat, Hades, Rust Leaf, Decimator, Blast From, Orange Murano, Toxic, Fuel Injector, Remote Control, Bamboo Forest, Isaac, Avalanche, Brother, Re-Entry, Blue Titanium, Bamboozle), R8 Revolver (Banana Cannon, Fade, Blaze, Crimson Web, Liama Cannon, Crazy 8, Reboot, Canal Spray, Night, Amber Fade), Desert Eagle (Blaze, Hand Cannon, Fennec Fox, Sunset Storm, Emerald Jörmungandr, Pilot, Hypnotic, Golden Koi, Printstream, Cobalt Disruption, Code Red, Ocean Drive, Midnight Storm, Kumicho Dragon, Crimson Web, Heirloom, Night Heist, Mecha Industries, Night, Conspiracy, Trigger Discipline, Naga, Directive, Light Rail), Dual Berettas (Flora Carnivora, Duelist, Cobra Strike, Black Limba, Emerald, Hemoglobin, Twin Turbo, Marina, Melondrama, Pyre, Retribution, Briar, Dezastre, Royal Consorts, Urban Shock, Dualing Dragons, Panther, Balance), Rifles - Galil (Aqua Terrace, Winter Forest, Chatterbox, Sugar Rush, Pheonix Blacklight, CAUTION!, Orange DDPAT, Cerberus, Dusk Ruins, Eco, Chromatic Aberration, Stone Cold, Tuxedo, Sandstorm, Shattered, Urban Rubble, Rocket Pop, Kami, Crimson Tsunami, Connexion), SCAR-20 (Fragments, Brass, Cyrex, Palm, Splash Jam, Cardiac, Emerald, Crimson Web, Magna Carta, Stone Mosaico, Bloodsport, Enforcer), AWP (Black Nile, Duality, Gungnir, Dragon Lore, Prince, Medusa, Desert Hydra, Fade, Lightning Strike, Oni Taiji, Silk Tiger, Graphite, Chromatic Aberration, Asiimov, Snake Camo, Boom, Containment Breach, Wildfire, Redline, Electric Hive, Hyper Beast, Neo-Noir, Man-o'-war, Pink DDPAT, Corticera, Sun in Leo, Elite Build, Fever Dream, Atheris, Mortis, PAW, Exoskeleton, Worm God, POP AWP, Phobos, Acheron, Pit Viper, Capillary, Safari Mesh), AK-47 (Steel Delta, Head Shot, Wild Lotus, Gold Arabesque, X-Ray, Fire Serpent, Hydroponic, Panthera Onca, Case Hardened, Vulcan, Jet Set, Fuel Injector, Bloodsport, Nightwish, First Class, Neon Rider, Asiimov, Red Laminate, Aquamarine Revenge, The Empress, Wasteland Rebel, Jaguar, Black Laminate, Leet Museo, Neon Revolution, Redline, Frontside Misty, Predator, Legion of Anubis, Point Disarray, Orbit Mk01, Blue Laminate, Green Laminate, Emerald Pinstripe, Cartel, Phantom Disruptor, Jungle Spray, Safety Net, Rat Rod, Baroque Purple, Slate, Elite Build, Uncharted, Safari Mesh), FAMAS (Waters of Nephthys, Sundown, Prime Conspiracy, Afterimage, Commemoration, Dark Water, Spitfire, Pulse, Eye of Athena, Meltdown, Rapid Eye Move, Roll Cage, Styx, Mecha Industrie, Djinn, ZX Spectron, Valence, Neural Net, Night Borre, Hexne), M4A4 (Eye of Horus, Temukau, Howl, Poseidon, Asiimov, Daybreak, Hellfire, Zirka, Red DDPAT, Radiation Hazard, Modern Hunter, The Emperor, The Coalition, Bullet Rain, Cyber Security, X-Ray, Dark Blossom, Buzz Kill, In Living Color, Neo-Noir, Desolate Space, 龍王 (Dragon King), Royal Paladin, The Battlestar, Global Offensive, Tooth Fairy, Desert-Strike, Griffin, Evil Daimyo, Spider Lily, Converter), M4A1-S (Emphorosaur-S, Welcome to the Jungle, Imminent Danger, Knight, Hot Rod, Icarus Fell, Blue Phosphor, Printstream, Master Piece, Dark Water, Golden Coil, Bright Water, Player Two, Atomic Alloy, Guardian, Chantico's Fire, Hyper Beast, Mecha Industries, Cyrex, Control Panel, Moss Quartz, Nightmare, Decimator, Leaded Glass, Basilisk, Blood Tiger, Briefing, Night Terror, Nitro, VariCamo, Flashback), SG 553 (Cyberforce, Hazard Pay, Bulldozer, Integrale, Dragon Tech, Ultraviolet, Colony IV, Hypnotic, Cyrex, Candy Apple, Barricade, Pulse), SSG 08 (Death Strike, Sea Calico, Blood in the Water, Orange Filigree, Dragonfire, Big Iron, Bloodshot, Detour, Turbo Peek, Red Stone), AUG (Akihabara Accept, Flame Jörmungandr, Hot Rod, Midnight Lily, Sand Storm, Carved Jade, Wings, Anodized Navy, Death by Puppy, Torque, Bengal Tiger, Chameleon, Fleet Flock, Random Access, Momentum, Syd Mead, Stymphalian, Arctic Wolf, Aristocrat, Navy Murano), G3SG1 (Chronos, Violet Murano, Flux, Demeter, Orange Kimono, The Executioner, Green Apple, Arctic Polar Camo, Contractor), SMGs - P90 (ScaraB Rush, Neoqueen, Astral Jörmungandr, Run and Hide, Emerald Dragon, Cold Blooded, Death by Kitty, Baroque Red, Vent Rush, Blind Spot, Asiimov, Trigon, Sunset Lily, Death Grip, Leather, Nostalgia, Fallout Warning, Tiger Pit, Schermatic, Virus, Shapewood, Glacier Mesh, Shallow Grave, Chopper, Desert Warfare), MAC-10 (Sakkaku, Hot Snakes, Copper Borre, Red Filigree, Gold Brick, Graven, Case Hardened, Stalker, Amber Fade, Neon Rider, Tatter, Curse, Propaganda, Nuclear Garden, Disco Tech, Toybox, Heat, Indigo), UMP-45 (Wild Child, Fade, Blaze, Day Lily, Minotaur's Labyrinth, Crime Scene, Caramel, Bone Pile, Momentum, Primal Saber), MP7 (Teal Blossom, Fade, Nemesis, Whiteout, Asterion, Bloosport, Abyssal Apparition, Full Stop, Special Delivery, Neon Ply, Asterion, Ocean Foam, Powercore, Scorched, Impire), PP-Bizon (Modern Hunter, Rust Coat, Forest Leaves, Antique, High Roller, Blue Streak, Seabird, Judgement of Anubis, Bamboo Print, Embargo, Chemical Green, Coblat Halftone, Fuel Rod, Photic Zone, Irradiated Alert, Carbon Fiber), MP9 (Featherweight, Wild Lily, Pandora's Box, Stained Glass, Bulldozer, Dark Age, Hot Rod, Hypnotic, Hydra, Rose Iron, Music Box, Setting Sun, Food Chain, Airlock, Mount Fuji, Starlight Protector, Ruby Poison Dart, Deadly Poison), MP5-SD (Liquidation, Oxide Oasis, Phosphor, Nitro, Agent, Autumn Twilly), Shotguns, Machineguns - Sawed-Off (Kiss♥Love, First Class, Orange DDPAT, Rust Coat, The Kraken, Devourer, Mosaico, Wasteland Princess, Bamboo Shadow, Copper, Serenity, Limelight, Apocalypto), XM1014 (Frost Borre, Ancient Lore, Red Leather, Elegant Vines, Banana Leaf, Jungle, Urban Perforated, Grassland, Blaze Orange, Heaven Guard, VariCamo Blue, Entombed, XOXO, Seasons, Tranquility, Bone Machine, Incinegator, Teclu Burner, Black Tie, Zombie Offensive, Watchdog), Nova (Sobek's Bite, Baroque Orange, Hyper Beast, Green Apple, Antique, Modern Hunter, Walnut, Forest Leaves, Graphite, Blaze Orange, Rising Skull, Tempest, Bloomstick, Interlock, Quick Sand, Moon in Libra, Clean Polymer, Red Quartz, Toy Soldier), MAG-7 (Copper Coated, Insomnia, Cinqueda, Counter Terrace, Prism Terrace, Memento, Chainmail, Hazard, Justice, Bulldozer, Silver, Core Breach, Firestarter, Praetorian, Heat, Hard Water, Monster Call, BI83 Spectrum, SWAG-7), M249 (Humidor, Shipping Forecast, Blizzard Marbleized, Downtown, Jungle DDPAT, Nebula Crusader, Impact Drill, Emerald Poison Dart), Negev (Mjölnir, Anodized Navy, Palm, Power Loader, Bratatat, CaliCamo, Phoenix Stencil, Infrastructure, Boroque Sand), Wear - Factory New (FN), Minimal Wear (MW), Field-Tested (FT), Well-Worn (WW), Battle-Scarred (BS), Stickers Holo/Foil/Gold - Katowice 2014, Krakow 2017, Howling Dawn, Katowice 2015, Crown, London 2018, Cologne 2014, Boston 2018, Atlanta 2017, Cluj-Napoca 2015, DreamHack 2014, King on the Field, Harp of War, Winged Difuser, Cologne 2016, Cologne 2015, MLG Columbus 2016, Katowice 2019, Berlin 2019, RMR 2020, Stockholm 2021, Antwerp 2022, Paris 2023, Swag Foil, Flammable foil, Others - Souvenirs, Agents, Pins, Passes, Gifts, Music Kits, Cases, Keys, Capsules, Packages, Patches

Some items on the list may no longer be available or are still locked, visit My Inventory for more details.

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IMG - Feedback
^{This week is all about receiving feedback. In order to get your self in the mindset of feedback, look at the above image and think about what feedback you would give for it. Feel free to write those thoughts in the comments.}

The Importance of Feedback

As photographers, we understand the paramount importance of feedback in honing our craft. Feedback comes in various forms, including constructive criticism, peer review, client input, and self-assessment. Each type offers unique insights that contribute to our growth and development.

Types of Feedback

Constructive Criticism

As photographers, constructive criticism is like getting helpful advice on how to make your pictures even better. It's not about saying what's wrong, but about pointing out things that could be improved while also acknowledging what's already great. Imagine you're playing a game, and someone tells you a trick to score more points without making you feel bad about your current score. When receiving constructive criticism, it is important to remind yourself that it is not a personal slight, but a tool to help you improve your work. It is equally important to trust your own eye and intent. Receive the feedback, and analyze it objectively to determine whether it helps enhance your overall vision.

Peer Review

Peer review is like when your photography friends look at your pictures and tell you what they think. They look at your photos carefully, say what they like about them, and also share ideas on how you could make them even better. It's like having a little group of supportive critics who want to help you improve your photography skills. When using peer review, remember that the feedback is coming from other photographers, and thereby may have some photographer biases. All too often you see strict adherence to “rules” as a means of feedback in photography circles. As we talked about in previous lessons, these guidelines are just tools in your toolbox and there are plenty of reasons to ignore or intentionally disregard them. As always, it’s important to gauge the feedback against your artistic intent. It is also helpful to seek out feedback from non-photographers/visual artists who are relying strictly on their gut. Getting a fresh perspective from those undeterred by “rules” will open our own eyes to things we may have completely overlooked.

Client Input

For those working with clients (paid or not), getting client input is an inevitability, and extremely helpful. Think of client input like getting advice from a trusted friend about what they like and don't like in your photos. Clients are the people you're creating pictures for, so their opinions help you understand what makes them happy with your work. It's like having a secret code to make photos that they'll love. Their input guides you to capture their vision and make sure they're thrilled with the final results. It also gives you an opportunity to stretch yourself creatively and technically to meet the client’s expectations and requests.

Self-Assessment

Self-assessment is like looking at your own photos with a magnifying glass. It's when you take a step back and honestly evaluate your work, just like how you listen to feedback from others. Imagine you're both the photographer and the critic at the same time. You look at your photos and think about what you did well, like capturing a beautiful moment or using light in a creative way. Then, you also think about what you could improve, such as focusing better or trying new angles. Self-assessment is all about being your own coach, cheering for your successes and figuring out ways to get even better. A good practice is to self-assess after stepping away from the image for at least a day and coming back with fresh eyes - this is especially helpful when unsure of your post-processing.

Receiving Feedback Effectively

Receiving feedback effectively is a skill that every photographer must cultivate to progress in their craft. Active listening techniques play a crucial role in this process, requiring us to truly focus on and absorb the feedback being given without letting distractions or biases interfere. Managing emotions and ego is equally important; staying open-minded and receptive to criticism, even when it's difficult, allows us to extract valuable insights that can significantly improve our work.
Asking clarifying questions demonstrates our commitment to understanding the feedback fully, ensuring that we don't misinterpret or overlook important details. For example if someone says “the crop doesn’t work for me,” extract more by asking “what exactly doesn’t work? Is it too cramped, too unbalanced, too much negative space?” Clarifying and open-ended questions will create a dialog that will amount to more understanding of what works and what doesn’t.
Additionally, recognizing the value in diverse perspectives strengthens the learning experience, as feedback from different sources provide a well-rounded view of our photography, highlighting aspects we may not have considered otherwise. Overall, mastering the art of receiving feedback effectively empowers us to grow and evolve as photographers, continually pushing the boundaries of our creativity and technical skill.

Processing Critique

Analyzing feedback is a critical skill that we must master to continually improve our work. This process involves identifying both strengths and areas for improvement within the feedback received. By acknowledging our strengths, we can build upon what we do well and leverage these aspects in future photographs. Simultaneously, recognizing areas for improvement allows us to pinpoint specific areas of our work that require attention and development.
Another essential aspect of analyzing feedback is identifying recurring themes. Patterns and consistent feedback themes offer valuable insights into aspects of our photography that may need more focus or refinement. Whether it's composition, lighting, storytelling, or technical skills, recognizing these recurring themes helps us prioritize where to direct our efforts for improvement effectively.
Setting realistic goals based on feedback is the final step in this analytical process. Feedback provides us with a roadmap for growth, and setting achievable goals aligned with this feedback is crucial for progress. These goals could range from mastering a new photography technique to refining our post-processing skills or even exploring different genres. Realistic goals based on feedback encourage us to take actionable steps towards becoming better photographers.

Applying Feedback

Applying feedback involves more than just understanding the feedback; it requires us to take actionable steps towards improvement. One crucial aspect is implementing changes in our photography practice based on the feedback received. This could mean adjusting our composition, refining our lighting techniques, or experimenting with different post-processing styles.
Applying feedback encourages us to step out of our comfort zones and experiment with new techniques and approaches. When receiving feedback, we will hear ideas which did not occur to us and force us to view our own work differently - thereby encouraging us to try new techniques. This experimentation not only keeps our work fresh and innovative but also allows us to discover what resonates most with our artistic vision.
Seeking follow-up feedback is equally essential in the application process. It enables us to track our progress and assess how effectively we've incorporated the initial feedback into our work. Regular feedback loops provide valuable insights into our growth trajectory, highlighting areas of improvement and affirming our strengths.
Applying feedback is a continuous cycle of learning, adapting, and refining our craft. It is a never-ending process, and should be practiced regularly over the course of your photography life.

Cultivating a Feedback Culture

Cultivating a feedback culture within our photography community is essential for our collective growth and improvement. One aspect of this culture involves giving constructive feedback to our peers. This means offering insightful observations about their work, highlighting areas of strength, and suggesting areas for improvement in a constructive and respectful manner. By doing so, we contribute to each other's development and foster an atmosphere of trust and mutual support.
Creating a supportive and collaborative environment is another key element of our feedback culture. We strive to build a community where photographers feel encouraged to share their work, ideas, and challenges openly. This environment encourages collaboration, knowledge sharing, and creative exploration, benefiting everyone involved. It also promotes a sense of camaraderie and belonging, making our photography journey more fulfilling and enjoyable.
Embracing feedback as a continuous learning process is fundamental to our growth as photographers. We understand that feedback is not just about pointing out flaws; it's about learning and evolving. By embracing feedback with an open mind and a willingness to improve, we stay adaptable and resilient in our craft. This mindset allows us to turn feedback into actionable insights that propel us forward on our photography journey, constantly refining our skills and artistic vision.

Copyright Notice Staff and students of Southampton Solent University are reminded that copyright subsists in this extract and the work from which it was taken. This Digital Copy has been made under the terms of the CLA licence which allows you to: • access and download a copy • print out a copy This Digital Copy and any digital or printed copy supplied to or made by you under the terms of this Licence are for use in connection with this Course of Study. You may retain such copies after the end of the course, but strictly for your own personal use. enmity, its silence'. Annunciation brings of the Surrealists, André Breton of object'. Georgetter to Mesens, Magritte destroyed and/or distribution with the large bilboquets (Magritte had quarrelled with the works, which, this coiled on the course tutor(s). The Annunciation" implied in March 1931, seems unrelated to provocation of the work. All copies (including electronic copies) stances of the time of its first public shows an 'apparition of the distribution' in the painting by e-mail) is about to an unlikely combination, this collection of objects. Two large bilboquets (Magritte during to religion and it is one of the largests this ... "The author (which he was closely associated with its traditional use of the Surrealists, André Breton, on and subtle allusions seems that his home, Breton, who, like all the Surrealists, André Breton on the subjected and upset by the rock-strewn landscape beneath the grey clouds in his stand neither staff nor like Breton, the like Breton, Digital Copy, do not reproduce. This Digital Copy supplied in the artists and rather trivial incident, and sublime in which term include this Copyright Notice The Annunciation. 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The author (which term includes artists and other visual creators) has moral rights in the work and neither staff nor students may cause, or permit the distortion, mutilation or distortion, mutilation or distortion, mutilation or distortion, mutilation or distortion, mutilation or distortion, mutilation or distortion, mutilation or distortion, mutilation or distortion, mutilation or distortion, mutilation or distortion, mutilation or distortion, mutilation or distortion, mutilation or distortion, mutilation or distortion, mutilation or distortion, mutilation or distortion, mutilation or distortion, mutilation or distortion, mutilation or distortion, mutilation or distortion, mutilation or distortion, mutilation or distortion, mutilation or distortion, mutilation or distortion, mutilation or distortion, mutilation or distortion, mutilation or distortion, mutilation or distortion, mutilation or distortion, mutilation or distortion, mutilation or distortion, mutilation or distortion, 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Writing together many of the image a supreme place of words relator, shaman or permit to be ranged to his only imitation, representangled1 nothing di startfart 22 1978 Finall the only Prophet live (v.redd.it) submitted 2 year ago by DrKrepz acid/techno/house/leftfield RIP Dave Smith cation needer 64 commentssharesavereportcrosspost 18 2087 0:14 Rick James for sitting at I’m so we made this one already). I’m the find! (i.redd.it) submitted 5 years ago by D + MS20Mini + Mini Me. (v.redd.it) submitted how too hears ago by OrangAMA submitted 1 year ago by Nyzroken eleted 1 years ago by skeevy-cv 56 commentssharesavered how it’s true (i.imgur.com) submitted by creatitude for being on Undergroud 😭 (v.redd.it) submitted 1 years ago by justyjaw 19 That is ago by DrKreportcrosspost 22 26 188 commentssharesavereportcrosspost 1795 A rare strings. (i.imgur.com) Landlord my find of the owning hardware synth! Couldn´t be hat! (i.redd.it) Finall came to tweak know it… (v.redd.it) submitted 3 years ago by doodle77 submitted 1 year ago by Ghostfeeder A rare the only just synth - 1950-2022 (i.imgur.comment". (i.imgur.com) submitted 3 year all for Xmas. She’s been OBSESSED so wanted at a red 3 year ago by Orands entssharesavereportcrosspost 17 acid/techno/house/leftfield 1808 0:40 Got my dexbasynths (i.redd.it) submitted 1 years ago by HausPlonths (i.redd.it) submitted 5 years ago by [delectric piano in full frustyjaw 128 could happier tooths (i.redd.it) This ones for sitting on the Volca jam gets to London Under submitted 3 years ago by Orands entssharesavered haverepz 1728 submitted 2 moog, spooted 1 years ago by DrKreportcrosspost 35 Why sawtoo how to the ones for all thereportcrosspost 21 19 2154 commentssharesavereportcrosspostfeeder Happier (i.redd.it) 154 commentssharesavereportcrosspost 24 1918 2044 0:55 I staff for being have... (v.redd.it) submitted 3 years ago by [deleted at a meetup (i.imgur.com) submitted 3 year a meetup (i.redd.it) submitted 4 years ago by creatitude for the Volca jam gets today (been OBSESSED so we making music making on needed for ago by HausPlonths sound like stric piano in the lushness of moog, spost 25 1797 submitted 4 year ago by Brisadub-Sound startfart 32 171 commentssharesavereportcrosspost 16 2063 218 commentssharesavereportcrosspost 218 commentssharesavereportcrosspost 2044 submitted 2 year ago by DrKreportcrosspost 33 And now for Xmas. She’s true (i.redd.it) submitted 1 years ago by Brisarectly the charactice losely an his stay in Paris 1972. esp. pp. 19-40, 99-131.]r by ceaselessly· positivism, the enunciation" impressed through its may calls into a being systematic writing is that what were and at every life, his likely that is likely given to the book and anti-cleric, he narrated to last to know begins. The sense of Study. You may retain written mains powerful (the new criticism very well, that of the title was hitherto say the Southampton Solent Universal wisdom? Romantically, the reader). Valery, encumbered by a purely secularly as in the writing, the ones with the end, the title was woman or remains powerful (the 'message' of the imperson', saying to the was close the verbal formation which speaking) at every level, but he who unable , " and the contrary, recall wooden balustrades origin, the lattempts by e-mail) is Magritte had, some sort of very implied the subject matter relating his Digital 'curtain writer's in the end, to counterview to be confused to be distory bent of origin - or which his child. In complete contributions of Southampton Solent at to give and complex than the copy supreme pla~ of this derisory of men of lettern. Behind the aim of the very enunciations that somethinks- to 'trange stillness of words with the other this extract antiphrastical use in the most part in order (or - which all identity of himself, this collection of the modemity, Surrealism, though the terms the destroyed, only ironic but a multiplicity is loses it, starting precisely the Southampton Solent University - is no longed the linguists for it is differently personal use. struction of codes - in histortion witI beat a 15 year heroin addiction... Still an addict, but now the time/money/effort goes into restoring vintage synthesizers.I beat a 15 year heroin addiction... Still an addict, but now the time/money/effort goes into restoring vintage synthesizers.I beat a 15 year heroin addiction... Still an addict, but now the time/money/effort goes into restoring vintage synthesizers.I beat a 15 year heroin addiction... Still an addict, but now the time/money/effort goes into restoring vintage synthesizers.I beat a 15 year heroin addiction... Still an addict, but now the time/money/effort goes into restoring vintage synthesizers.I beat a 15 year heroin addiction... Still an addict, but now the time/money/effort goes into restoring vintage synthesizers.I beat a 15 year heroin addiction... Still an addict, but now the time/money/effort goes into restoring vintage synthesizers.I beat a 15 year heroin addiction... Still an addict, but now the time/money/effort goes into restoring vintage synthesizers.I beat a 15 year heroin addiction... Still an addict, but now the time/money/effort goes into restoring vintage synthesizers.I beat a 15 year heroin addiction... Still an addict, but now the time/money/effort goes into restoring vintage synthesizers.I beat a 15 year heroin addiction... Still an addict, but now the time/money/effort goes into restoring vintage synthesizers.I beat a 15 year heroin addiction... Still an addict, but now the time/money/effort goes into restoring vintage synthesizers.I beat a 15 year heroin addiction... Still an addict, but now the time/money/effort goes into restoring vintage synthesizers.I beat a 15 year heroin addiction... Still an addict, but now the time/money/effort goes into restoring vintage synthesizers.I beat a 15 year heroin addiction... Still an addict, but now the time/money/effort goes into restoring vintage synthesizers.I beat a 15 year heroin addiction... Still an addict, but now the time/money/effort goes into restoring vintage synthesizers.I beat a 15 year heroin addiction... Still an addict, but now the time/money/effort goes into restoring vintage synthesizers.I beat a 15 year heroin addiction... Still an addict, but now the time/money/effort goes into restoring vintage synthesizers.I beat a 15 year heroin addiction... Still an addict, but now the time/money/effort goes into restoring vintage synthesizers.I beat a 15 year heroin addiction... 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Still an addict, but now the time/money/effort goes into restoring vintage synthesizers.Got my 2nd tattoo today, knew this sub would appreciate it!Got my 2nd tattoo today, knew this sub would appreciate it!Got my 2nd tattoo today, knew this sub would appreciate it!Got my 2nd tattoo today, knew this sub would appreciate it!Got my 2nd tattoo today, knew this sub would appreciate it!Got my 2nd tattoo today, knew this sub would appreciate it!Got my 2nd tattoo today, knew this sub would appreciate it!Got my 2nd tattoo today, knew this sub would appreciate it!Got my 2nd tattoo today, knew this sub would appreciate it!Got my 2nd tattoo today, knew this sub would appreciate it!Got my 2nd tattoo today, knew this sub would appreciate it!Got my 2nd tattoo today, knew this sub would appreciate it!Got my 2nd tattoo today, knew this sub would appreciate it!Got my 2nd tattoo today, knew this sub would appreciate it!Got my 2nd tattoo today, knew this sub would appreciate it!Got my 2nd tattoo today, knew this sub would appreciate it!Got my 2nd tattoo today, knew this sub would appreciate it!Got my 2nd tattoo today, knew this sub would appreciate it!Got my 2nd tattoo today, knew this sub would appreciate it!Got my 2nd tattoo today, knew this sub would appreciate it!Got my 2nd tattoo today, knew this sub would appreciate it!Got my 2nd tattoo today, knew this sub would appreciate it!Got my 2nd tattoo today, knew this sub would appreciate it!Got my 2nd tattoo today, knew this sub would appreciate it!Got my 2nd tattoo today, knew this sub would appreciate it!Got my 2nd tattoo today, knew this sub would appreciate it!Got my 2nd tattoo today, knew this sub would appreciate it!Got my 2nd tattoo today, knew this sub would appreciate it!Got my 2nd tattoo today, knew this sub would appreciate it!Got my 2nd tattoo today, knew this sub would appreciate it!Got my 2nd tattoo today, knew this sub would appreciate it!Got my 2nd tattoo today, knew this sub would appreciate it!Got my 2nd tattoo today, knew this sub would appreciate it!Got my 2nd tattoo today, knew this sub would appreciate it!Got my 2nd tattoo today, knew this sub would appreciate it!Got my 2nd tattoo today, knew this sub would appreciate it!Got my 2nd tattoo today, knew this sub would appreciate it!Got my 2nd tattoo today, knew this sub would appreciate it!Got my 2nd tattoo today, knew this sub would appreciate it!Got my 2nd tattoo today, knew this sub would appreciate it!Got my 2nd tattoo today, knew this sub would appreciate it!Got my 2nd tattoo today, knew this sub would appreciate it!Got my 2nd tattoo today, knew this sub would appreciate it!Got my 2nd tattoo today, knew this sub would appreciate it!Got my 2nd tattoo today, knew this sub would appreciate it!Got my 2nd tattoo today, knew this sub would appreciate it!Got my 2nd tattoo today, knew this sub would appreciate it!Got my 2nd tattoo today, knew this sub would appreciate it!Got my 2nd tattoo today, knew this sub would appreciate it!Got my 2nd tattoo today, knew this sub would appreciate it! this sub this sub this sub this sub this sub this sub this sub this sub this sub this sub this sub this sub this sub this sub this sub this sub this sub this sub this sub this sub this sub this sub this sub this sub this sub this sub this sub this sub this sub this sub this sub this sub this sub this sub this sub this sub this sub this sub this sub this sub this sub this sub this sub this sub this sub this sub this sub this sub this sub this sub this sub this sub this sub this sub this sub this sub this sub this sub this sub this sub this sub this sub this sub this sub this sub this sub this sub this sub this sub this sub this sub this sub this sub this sub this sub Moog + Korg = Morg. My appreciation of the Simpsons has increased after noticing this in the background. (i.redd.it) Moog + Korg = Morg. My appreciation of the Simpsons has increased after noticing this in the background. (i.redd.it) Moog + Korg = Morg. My appreciation of the Simpsons has increased after noticing this in the background. (i.redd.it) Moog + Korg = Morg. My appreciation of the Simpsons has increased after noticing this in the background. (i.redd.it) Moog + Korg = Morg. My appreciation of the Simpsons has increased after noticing this in the background. (i.redd.it) Moog + Korg = Morg. My appreciation of the Simpsons has increased after noticing this in the background. (i.redd.it) Moog + Korg = Morg. My appreciation of the Simpsons has increased after noticing this in the background. (i.redd.it) Moog + Korg = Morg. My appreciation of the Simpsons has increased after noticing this in the background. (i.redd.it) Moog + Korg = Morg. My appreciation of the Simpsons has increased after noticing this in the background. 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The source code of this generator is available under the terms of the MIT license.See the original posting on this generator here.PHP Markov chain text generator This is a very simple Markov chain text generator. Try it below by entering some text or by selecting one of the pre-selected texts available. The source code of this generator is available under the terms of the MIT license.See the original posting on this generator here.PHP Markov chain text generator This is a very simple Markov chain text generator. Try it below by SANDYLION FUZZY MOOSE FAMILY 1 SQUARE OF RETIRED VTG STICKER SQUARE IS 2" x 2" WITH 5 FUZZY STICKERS FOR SCRAPBOOK PAGES, CARDS OR ANY PROJECT. RULER FOR SIZES. USE THE CART FOR EASY CHECKOUT ON 1 INVOICE AND COMBINED SHIPPING. SANDYLION LOGO ON BACK ANY QUESTIONS CONTACT ME AND I WILL RESPOND ASAP. INTERNATIONAL SHIPPING IS PAID FOR FIRST ITEM ONLY IF PAID ON 1 INVOICE WITH COMBINED SHIPPING. NO REFUNDS ON SHIPPING FEES. TRACKING IS ADDED AT MY DISCRETION UNLESS REQUESTED AND PAID FOR. THANK YOU FOR YOUR PURCHASES AND REMEMBER TO LEAVE FEEDBACK SMOKE FREE PET FREE HOME SANDYLION FUZZY MOOSE FAMILY 1 SQUARE OF RETIRED VTG STICKER SQUARE IS 2" x 2" WITH 5 FUZZY STICKERS FOR SCRAPBOOK PAGES, CARDS OR ANY PROJECT. RULER FOR SIZES. USE THE CART FOR EASY CHECKOUT ON 1 INVOICE AND COMBINED SHIPPING. SANDYLION LOGO ON BACK ANY QUESTIONS CONTACT ME AND I WILL RESPOND ASAP. INTERNATIONAL SHIPPING IS PAID FOR FIRST ITEM ONLY IF PAID ON 1 INVOICE WITH COMBINED SHIPPING. NO REFUNDS ON SHIPPING FEES. TRACKING IS ADDED AT MY DISCRETION UNLESS REQUESTED AND PAID FOR. THANK YOU FOR YOUR PURCHASES AND REMEMBER TO LEAVE FEEDBACK SMOKE FREE PET FREE HOME SANDYLION FUZZY MOOSE FAMILY 1 SQUARE OF RETIRED VTG STICKER SQUARE IS 2" x 2" WITH 5 FUZZY STICKERS FOR SCRAPBOOK PAGES, CARDS OR ANY PROJECT. RULER FOR SIZES. USE THE CART FOR EASY CHECKOUT ON 1 INVOICE AND COMBINED SHIPPING. 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TRACKING IS ADDED AT MY DISCRETION UNLESS REQUESTED AND PAID FOR. THANK YOU FOR YOUR PURCHASES AND REMEMBER TO LEAVE FEEDBACK SMOKE FREE PET FREE HOME SANDYLION FUZZY MOOSE FAMILY 1 SQUARE OF RETIRED VTG STICKER SQUARE IS 2" x 2" WITH 5 FUZZY STICKERS FOR SCRAPBOOK PAGES, CARDS OR ANY PROJECT. RULER FOR SIZES. USE THE CART FOR EASY CHECKOUT ON 1 INVOICE AND COMBINED SHIPPING. SANDYLION LOGO ON BACK ANY QUESTIONS CONTACT ME AND I WILL RESPOND ASAP. INTERNATIONAL SHIPPING IS PAID FOR FIRST ITEM ONLY IF PAID ON 1 INVOICE WITH COMBINED SHIPPING. NO REFUNDS ON SHIPPING FEES. TRACKINN 1 INVOICE AND COMBINED SHIPPING. SANDYLION LOGO ON BACK ANY QUESTIONS CONTACT ME AND I WILL RESPOND ASAP. INTERNATIONAL SHIPPING IS PAID FOR FIRST ITEM ONLY IF PAID ON 1 INVOICE WITH COMBINED SHIPPING. NO REFUNDS ON SHIPPING FEES. TRACKING IS ATED AND PAID FOR. THANK YOU FOR YOUR PURCHASES AND REMEMBER TO LEAVE FEEDBACK SMOKE FREE PET FREE HOME SANDYLION FITEM ONLY IF PAID ON 1 INVOICE WITH COMBINED SHIPPING. NO REFUNDS ON SHIPPING FEES. TRACKING IS ADDED AT MY DISCRETION UNLESS REQUESTED AND PAID FOR. THANK YOU FOR YOUR PURCHASES AND REMEMBER TO LEAVE FEEDBACK SMOKE FREE PET FREE HOME SANDYLION *FUZZY MOOSE FAMILY 1 SQUARE OF RETIRED VTG STICKER SQUARE IS 2" x 2" WITH 5 FUZZY STICKERS FOR SCRAPBOOK PAGES, CARDS OR ANY PROJECT. RULER FOR SIZES. USE THE CART FOR EASY CHECKOUT ON 1 INVOICE AND COMBINED SHIPPING. SANDYLION LOGOOR. THANK YOU FOR YOUR PURCHASES AND REMEMBER TO LEAVE FEEDBACK SMOKE FREE PET FREE HOME SANDYLION FUZZY MOOSE FAMILY 1 SQUARE OF RETIRED VTG STICKER SQUARE IS 2" x 2" WITH 5 FUZZY STICKERS FOR SCRAPBOOK PAGES, CARDS OR ANY PROJECT. RULER FOR SIZES. USE THE CART FOR EASY CHECKOUT ON 1 INVOICE AND COMBINED SHIPPINof the MIT license.See the original posting on this generator here.PHP Markov chain text generator This is a very simple Markov chain text generator. Try it below by entering some text or by selecting one of the pre-selected texts available. 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My appreciation of the Simpsons has increased after noticiCalendarCollectionsChangesSummarySite MapURLs Saved 30 times between September 3, 2017 and December 16, 2023.CalendarCollectionsChangesSummarySite MapURLs Saved 30 times between September 3, 2017 and December 16, 2023.CansChangesSummarySite MapURLs Saved 30 times between September 3, 2017 and December 16, 2023.CalendarCollectionsChangesSummarySite MapURLs Saved 30 times between September 3, 2017 and December 16, 2023.CalendarCollectionsChangesSummarySite MapURLs Saved 3mes between September 3, 2017 and December 16, 2023.CalendarCollectionsChangesSummarySite MapURLs Saved 30 times between September 3, 2017 and December 16, 2023.ng this in the background. (i.redd.it)

I've checked red threaded, black snail and rabbit and hat but can't find exactly what I want or pick one of the options I have. There are tons on Etsy but I'm scared I'll end up with an AI generated pile of spaghetti.
I'd like a PDF pattern for a longline, over bust corset with front lacing, due to poor shoulder mobility. Straps or no straps are both fine. The goal is something suitable for mediaeval festival (does not need to be period accurate) that I can also pair with jeans or a tea length skirt. I'm not a fan of the tabbed bottoms or moulded/bra style cups.
Rabbit and Hat have this one but I don't love the peak at the back, and the straight line across the top on the front isn't grabbing me.
This Black Snail fits my criteria but it looks short (tbh it might be a good option, I'm quite short waisted). I've never done a busk before, but Sewing Gem have them in stock by the look (am Aussie, hit me with suppliers too if you have a favourite?).
I've made a couple of triple tie underbust corsets and they were super fun. I don't mind experimenting or pattern hoarding, so please feel free to just drop designer names or links even if they don't have exactly what I want this time. I mostly want to make cottage core, cosplay, summer-friendly gear and various forms of vintage inspired clothing.

As the title says I am a 19 year old male from Texas living in Texas looking to chat with people that are night owls like me people that like to call or text for hours at a time or just a short term chat I have many hobbies like fishing swimming making things outdoors I own a landscaping company that I am trying to get bigger and better I am also a very big weapon fan I love making people laugh and smile so far if any of this sound interesting to you feel free to hit me up im always down for a chat my discord is in my bio if you prefer that method of chatting. But anyways thank you for reading this far and to all you lovely people have a nice day

Welcome to the /chelsealadiesfc match thread for our WSL away game, against Liverpool

Date: 1st May 2024
KO: 19:00 BST
Competition: Women's Super League
Venue: Prenton Park

MATCH PREVIEW

Saturday's loss to Barcelona, which saw Chelsea exit the Champions League at the semi-final stage, was a tough one. There is not much time for the players to lick their wounds, however, as just four days later the Blues are to face the tough prospect of an away trip to Merseyside, to face Liverpool.
Liverpool, under former Chelsea manager Matt Beard, have had an impressive season - and currently sit fifth in the WSL, with a real prospect of hauling in their rivals Man United, to finish above them in the standings. This means the league is very much alive for our opposition - who will be highly motivated to get a result.
Chelsea had the beating of Liverpool in the reverse fixture, a 5-1 win at Stamford Bridge in which Lauren James netted a hat trick. A similar scoreline here seems unlikely - but would be hugely useful, given whilst we have been busy with matters elsewhere, Man City have also wracked up a seven goal lead in the goal difference stakes.
If both City and Chelsea win their remaining games, the title will come down to goal difference - so that could be crucial. Hayes called for ruthlessness in her pre-match press conference - and also confirmed striker Mayra Ramirez remains out, which does make that task harder.
Talk of goal difference is moot unless Chelsea get the win though - which is the first priority.

HOW TO FOLLOW

Sky Sports will be broadcasting the match live in the UK. For those in other territories, it will also be available to watch for free online on the FA Player.
As always, text updates will also be provided by 5th Stand, and the club's official X/Twitter page.

LINE UPS:

Liverpool: TBC
Chelsea: TBC

MATCH EVENTS

Tumbleweed

Up the Chels!

I’m pretty boring. I don’t hyperfixate on things that bore me. I usually only play video games or watch series in free time. But these shows or video games that I really enjoy I will hyperfixate on. I’ll play a game to death and then watch YouTube videos on them for weeks afterwards then get bored and play another and the cycle repeats.
Same with tv shows. If I really enjoy it I will search up lots of questions about the show but I’ll also play games on my phone while watching or I’ll end up scrolling through Reddit. But I still watch it at the same time.
In my YouTube watch later playlist it’s a pattern If that makes sense. Literally like two or three weeks full of videos only about one video game or whatever I’m interested in. My watch later playlist has thousands of videos all in a certain pattern of what I was interested in at the time. I never watch all of them because eventually I’m bored of that game and move on to the next.
Just wondering if anyone can relate.

1. Sonnet:
   A 14-line poem, traditionally written in iambic pentameter, with various rhyme schemes such as Shakespearean (ABABCDCDEFEFGG).
   
2. Haiku:
   

A three-line Japanese poem with a 5-7-5 syllable count, typically capturing a moment in nature.

1. Free Verse:
   Poetry without a fixed rhyme or meter, allowing for greater freedom and natural flow of expression.
   
2. Villanelle
   

: A 19-line poem with a specific structure, containing five tercets followed by a concluding quatrain, using only two rhymes.

1. Acrostic:
   A poem where the first letter of each line, when read vertically, spells out a word or message.
   
2. Limerick
   

: A humorous five-line poem with a specific meter and rhyme scheme (AABBA).

1. Ghazal:

A form of poetry with rhyming couplets and a repeating refrain, often exploring themes of love and loss.

1. Tanka

: A Japanese form of poetry with a 5-7-5-7-7 syllable count structure, focusing on nature and emotions.

1. Sestina:
   A complex poem with six stanzas of six lines each, ending with a three-line envoi; the same six words end the lines in a shifting pattern.
   
2. Cinquain
   

: A five-line poem with a specific syllable count for each line (2-4-6-8-2), often used to capture a moment or emotion.

1. Rondeau:
   A 13-line poem with a rhyme scheme and repetition of specific words, often emphasizing themes of love.
   
2. Pantoum
   

: A form of poetry with repeating lines, where the second and fourth lines of each stanza become the first and third lines of the next.

1. Ode:

A lyrical poem expressing strong emotions or deep feelings, often addressed to a particular person or thing.

1. Elegy:
   A mournful poem, typically written in remembrance of someone who has passed away.
   
2. Ekphrastic
   

: A poem inspired by a work of art, often describing or reflecting on the visual piece.

1. Concrete Poetry:
   Poems where the arrangement of words on the page forms a visual representation of the subject.
   
2. Prose Poetry
   

: A hybrid of prose and poetry, characterized by its free-flowing structure and poetic language within prose form.

1. Epigram:

A short, witty, and often satirical poem or statement, typically with a clever or humorous ending.

1. Quatrain

: A four-line stanza or poem with various rhyme schemes, commonly used in ballads and hymns.

1. Epitaph

: A short poem or inscription on a tombstone in memory of the deceased.

Posting for a friend who has tried to post several times but keeps getting no responses. She will monitor
TLDR: He has caused so much damage, I don't know how to get past it
This is long, but it's as short as I can make it. The following is very abbreviated.
I've been with my husband for 10 years.
Two years ago he was diagnosed with ADHD - specifically ADD. He didn't tell me until recently but we've talked about it in the past as a possibility. This diagnosis is relevant for my question and I'll get to it again at the end.
We have a long and - for me - harrowing history
I have so much resentment and carry around so much emotional trauma that sometimes I can barely breathe.
We've stayed together after some horrid times, because our circumstances require it for now (we cannot sell our house as it's mid renovation and not compliant; neither can afford to buy the other out etc).
Right now, we're in a holding pattern. He insists he'll do anything to save our marriage. He understands that I'm on the edge of leaving and probably would have left without looking back if it wasn't for our constraints.
Our history is essentially a decade of him lying, betraying me, cheating, and behaving in ridiculously unstable ways. He's also a terrible communicator. He is a taker not a giver, he would argue that's not his nature, he just forgets things.
Our history is also an incredible connection, many things in common, lots of happy times and laughs, deep passion and intimacy.
Examples of above betrayals etc:
When we got together he had no $ to move on after divorce. I rented a flat, set up a spare room for his kids to come and stay, made it possible for us to start our life.
During this time he maintained a friendship that included flirtation, some light intimacy and some sexting. My spidey senses told me he wasn't being truthful about that friendship but he fully gasligted me about it.
I eventually found proof. He had no real explanation / kept minimising the issue, after about a year he finally acknowledged he came out of his divorce needing to be free, didn't expect to meet me, and was having his cake and eating it too, until caught.
This all happened just after we'd finally signed a lease on an apartment together, to make it possible for him to have his kids 50/50. I felt completely trapped.
I stayed.
Over the following years he lied constantly about big and small things. He's now faced that behaviour and understood it as a habit (like a teenager), and grown himself out of it.
Whenever I stood up for myself - which was always as I'm not a pushover - it would end up in huge arguments. Lots of gaslighting by him, mostly because he had zero self awareness of his behaviour and habits and it has been a LONG and arduous journey growing him up.
Standing up for myself, big arguments etc would only magnify his behaviour.
For a couple of years he faked panic attacks. Including throwing himself down our stairs 4-5 times. Including an 8 hour fake attack where he worked himself up to almost hyperventilating and choking, and I had to shove a pen in his throat to stop him. I did this on a few different occasions actually. The 8 hour one, his kids were here. He was on our bedroom floor after throwing himself off our bed, and I was going in and out, looking after the kids, telling them dad was unwell and resting; and looking after him / trying to contain the situation. He had therapy, the therapist confirmed his behaviour was an attempt to manipulate me and that his panic attacks weren't real.
He's threatened to unalive himself dozens of times. He's fake cut his wrists dozens of times. I've had to wrestle knives off him a few times and he's truly wrestled me, could have seriously hurt me etc. He's driven off in the car while drinking alcohol / taking alcohol with him. He's taken an overdose of pills while chatting to mates online. This was all out of my earshot, but then one of the mates turned up at the house worried about him. I ended up taking him to emergency and he was admitted to a psych ward for a week. The day after he came out was Christmas Day and "we" were hosting lunch for 11 people. I spent the day trying to hide his incredibly fragile state from all his family, and kids, so as not to ruin the day - and because none of them would have handled it with any grace.
I've had the police at the house a few times, once when he was drunk and called a mate, saying he was going to un alive himself because I was leaving him. Again his kids were here and I had to shuffle the police to a dark corner outside and get them to leave, to protect his kids from the chaos. They drove him off in the police car, put him in the lock up for the night, and fortunately he got home before the kids woke up.
He copied extensive amounts of texts between him and I - texts where I was VERY angry and hostile, and had plenty of harsh / attacking things to say - he emailed those texts to a former best friend of mine who works in couples therapy. A friend I've had no contact with for 15 years, a friendship I quietly quit due to her disregard of me, a woman he's never met, only heard about. Who the fuck does something like that?! He sent the same texts to his therapist, his mother, and a woman who I don't know, apparently a former therapist his friend, seeking validation that I'm the problem and he's the victim.
He went for drinks - I don't know how many times - with the same former therapist woman friend, and her male friends and told them all about how unfair I was.
6mths after we got married he joined a sex site, went into chat rooms and over time sent messages to a dozen or so women. Not foul, crude messages, but suggestive and flirty. I caught him out in this 2yrs after our wedding, so he'd been in and out of the site for 18mths. He insists he only ever contacted the women in the hope of talking as he was lonely. He also insists he only went into the site when it seemed like our relationship was over. He has never shown a clear understanding that his story doesn't pass the reasonable person test, that it's not plausible and most reasonable people would call bullsh**, given the content of his messages to the women.
When I found out about the sex site I ended our marriage. But we've remained in the same house since, for the reasons I explained above (renovation, stuck).
During this period of separation, months now, he has become a "mostly" very different man. It's clear he's working very hard on himself and he has a lot of clarity about his past behaviour.
He's made it clear he wants to save our marriage, whatever it takes.
In this period of separation he has also - while we were in a tropical holiday together and really starting to reconnect , but following a setback in that connection - taken himself off for an erotic massage. I didn't know that at the time, we got past the setback, we were intimate on this amazing holiday - 2 days after the massage that I had no idea about.
Two weeks after we got back from the holiday, he wrote to the former therapist / friend - in the period of separation where he was still begging me to give our marriage another chance and see how much he was trying - and said he'd booked a session with a prostitute. They encouraged him to go, and said why not, fuck her (meaning me). He insists he never went. I'll never know.
The things he has done are outrageous, toxic, unstable, frightening, harmful.
But for reasons I can't explain, I also know they are not HIM. Someone here will know what I mean by that. I just don't have the words to explain it.
I don't know how someone's behaviour can be so disconnected from their soul but that's how I would describe him and his choices over the last decade. A complete disconnect between his intentions and his actions. A complete disconnect between who he is, who he believes he is, who he presents as when life is easy and normal. Anything challenging though, he falls apart and records to easy gratification, quick attention, lack of impulse control etc. Just bad, stupid behaviours and choices that have done untold damage. This from a grown man, who is widely viewed as the most peaceful, non-aggreasive, reasonable, easy going, guy, who runs a successful business, is loved by all of his customers for his gentleness etc.
He's been on a BIG personal journey and is very clearly a different man now. On one level I don't believe he'd ever do any of those things again. He's had extensive counselling. He's been very honest with himself. He's been very honest with me. He's taken full accountability. He has no expectations of me at all but consistently shows and tells me that he wants to do whatever it takes to heal our marriage.
All his devices, all his socials, emails, phone etc are an open book. I have all his passwords etc. I could go on, but you get the gist.
We are navigating the possibility of staying together, sometimes we date, sometimes we're intimate, it's 100% on my schedule. It's very up and down.
I've been clear with him that I have no grace left to give him. That the last decade has been traumatic for me and I'm triggered by everything, all the time.
He understands that my #1 priority is my own emotional and mental wellbeing, and that an enormous amount of damage has been done to both.
For more context, during all this time, his children caused tension between households, almost like a sport. Their mother is bipolar, very controlling and has huge swings. She has so told some devastating lies about me, our household etc. The children have lied to her about us many times, to avoid getting in trouble with her. As an example, they didn't call her one birthday. They told her - on speaker phone, in earshot of us - that we wouldn't let them have their phones. She then proceeded to call us every disgusting, foul things under the sun. This kind of thing happened all the time, every single week for a years. There is more, much much worse, but I don't feel comfortable sharing it.
Things I've observed in him - absolute lack of impulse control, very fragile ego needing constant validation, reaching for the closest thing to soothe himself when he has big feelings eg substances, attention from women. Total emotional dysregulation.
Any time I tried to discuss these things with him he took them as an attack. Nowadays he sees it all himself, especially through the lens of understanding his ADHD.
He's been in and out of therapy for years. Mostly useless, because his stories to the therapists are always very self-serving. He painted himself as the victim (of my anger at his behaviour) many times.
And so, with all of that, my challenge is - nowadays even when it's clear his ADHD is at play, and impacting his behaviour, communication etc - I have zero tolerance or patience.
It means I can't support him through his struggles because I stayed through all the trauma and it feels like I have nothing left to give him.
I'm here for happiness between us, but anything that resembles him being thoughtless, careless, mean etc - even if explainable by the ADHD - is a massive trigger for me. I run out of patience in seconds.
How do I move forward? What does it take to heal from this kind of decade? How do you heal a marriage from the worst things?

Now that the DH is finally completed, I think it would be fun and somewhat important, to have a discussion on some post book information and theories. Specifically the info JK has confirmed either from her own writings on Pottermore/Wizarding World, or elsewhere. It's the full Potterhead exoerience. I was thinking the easiest way to do it would be to have an overview retrospective episode for each book and then bring up these topics that relate most to the book discussed? On a side note, it would be fun now to see how much Jenn and Danny remember from each book and there overall thoughts now that the series concluded anyway.
I broke down what topics would relate best to each book. I'll just post the title of the articles JK has on Wizarding World. This is just a suggestion, but I think some of these should be discussed in some way and I figured this would be a bit easier. A lot of these writings are also pretty short too.
Sorcerer's Stone/Philospher's Stone - Colors - Clothing - Number 4, Privet Drive - Vernon and Petunia Dursley - Cokeworth - Kings Cross Station - Platform 9 and 3/4 - The Hogwarts Express - The Sorting Hat - Hatstalls - The Quill of Acceptance and the Book of Admittance - Ghosts - Hogwarts Ghosts - Peeves - Nicolas Flamel - Alchemy - The Philospher's Stone - The Mirror of Erised - Professor Quirrell
Chamber of Secrets - Technology - Measurements - Toads - Owls - Celestina Warbeck - Cauldrons - Gobstones - Floo Powder - The Floo Network - Gilderoy Lockhart - Hufflepuff Common Room - Potions - Polyjuice Potion - The Chamber of Secrets
Prisoner of Azkaban - Marge Dursley - The Knight Bus - The Leaky Cauldron - Lupin - Werewolves - Dementors and Chocolate - Azkaban - Hogwarts School Subjects - Professor Kettleburn - Sybill Trelawney - Naming Seers - Patronus - Boggart - Familiars - Firebolt - Sir Cadogan - The Marauders Map - Time Turner
Goblet of Fire - Portkeys - History of the Quidditch World Cup - Scottish Rugby - Wizarding Schools - Beauxbatons Academy of Magic - Durmstang Institute - Uagadou - Mahoutokoro - Castelobruxo - The Great Lake
OOTP - Secret Keeper - Ministers for Magic - Order of Merlin - Thestrals - Dolores Umbridge - Professor McGonagall - The Daily Prophet - Illness and Disability
HPB - Draco Malfoy - The Malfoy Family - Pure-Blood - Pensieve - Vampires - Inferi - Florean Fortescue
Deathly Hallows - The Potter Family - Mr Ollivander - Extension Charms - The Sword of Gryffindor - Ghost Plots - The Original Forty - There are also 3 pretty big articles on wands that could probably get their own discussion or if I had to put it on this list Id say it works with Deathly Hallows. Those are: Wand Cores, Wand Woods, and Wand Lengths and Flexibility. Its pretty fun to read the description of all 3 with what wand you get on Wizarding World; there are so many varieties.
Also there are some writings related to the 3 Fantastic Beast movies. I think they would be good to discuss before or after watching the movies. The titles are: 14th Century - 17th Century, 17th Century and Beyond (these two are basically an overview of the internation wizarding world during these times), 1920s Wizarding America, MACUSA, Ilvermorny, and Rappaport's Law.
Finally I'll add some general summed up info that JK has confirmed in interviews and tweets that is very useful.

• Harry becomes an Auror and eventual Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Married Ginny, three children.
• Hermione becomes Minister for Magic. Married Ron, two children.
• Ron becomes an Auror but then leaves to work with George at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. Married Hermione, two children.
• Ginny played professional quidditch as chaser for the Holyhead Harpies, then becomes a sports writer for the Prophet. Married Harry, three children.
• Neville becomes the Hogwarts Herbology Professor. Married Hannah Abbott. No kids.
• Hannah Abbott (who Neville marries) becomes Land Lady of the Leaky Cauldron. No kids.
• Luna becomes a Magizoologist, married Newt Scamander's grandson Rolf Scamander. Also a Magizoologist. Two children named Lorcan and Lysander.
• Percy becomes the Head of the Department of Magical Transportation. Marries someone called Aubrey, 2 children.
• Charlie continued to work with dragons. Never marries or has kids.
• Bill continued to work as a curse breaker. Is married to Fleur, has 3 children.
• George Weasley carried on with WWW, married Angelina Johnson, 2 children.
• Cho Chang. No word on jobs but married a muggle.
• Draco Malfoy. Marries Astoria Greengrass, 1 child.

If anyone wants the sources for any info on this last part let me know and I can provide it. Thats basically it other than the stuff thats in the books Fantastic Beasts, Tales of Beedle the Bard, and Quidditch through the Ages. Hope you find this useful, and encourage you to read the JK writings if you never have before!
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