There's a "dad joke" I heard that goes: My therapist told me to write out a big long rant letter to everyone I have a problem with, burn them all to ashes, and scatter the ashes into the wind. I did all that last weekend, but now I'm not sure what to do with the letters.
This post feels like that big, long rant, but I genuinely could really use some help/ideas beyond "go to marriage counseling." I provide so much to the family and household that isn't reciprocated, but trying to set boundaries to feel more balanced gets passive-aggressive and/or silent treatment. I'm not writing all this here just to vent, I've actually edited this down pretty significantly to summarize what I'm going through and giving some examples.
Thanks for giving me the space to share this.
Me (50/M), Wife (45/F), two kids 15 and 13. We have no family who live anywhere close to us. We're in the middle of America, her divorced parents are on the coast, and mine's in Canada where I'm originally from (in case my username didn't give that away).
TLDR at the bottom.
Trigger warnings: a ruined birthday, shared/not-shared finances, me losing my cool and walking out on my family and getting the silent treatment since, and apparently being the only parent/grown-up in the house.
To this family, I feel that all I am to them is the income/paycheck and personal chef, and I'm ready to walk away. My wife won't communicate, gets defensive and angry, and doesn't contribute to the marriage or teach our kids about responsibility, so I look like a jerk all the time. If I speak up and ask her to help, I'm treated like a jerk. If I don't speak up, she does nothing.
Background about physicality, work and finances
I work in tech, typically 50-70 hours per week, and take on occasional (< 5 hrs/week) contract work as a side business to pay for my 3D printing hobby that I'm also trying to turn into a side business. She works part-time maybe one full day of work throughout the week on an as-needed basis.
My job pays the benefits, and I've established a retirement fund for us, plus a 401K and Roth IRA, plus a 529 account for each of the kids that I've been investing in since they were born. I paid off both cars. We're debt-free except for our mortgage, and we have enough assets to pay off the house if we choose to.
We each have a bank account for ourselves, plus a joint bank account. Her part-time paychecks and other money from an inheritance, goes 100% into her account only, and I use my account for my 3D printing business to maintain an LLC. Just about everything financial is paid for from my paychecks. I've always treated this as "our" money. All bills, mortgage, memberships, subscriptions (Netflix, etc), things the kids need (clothing, shoes, school supplies, etc), furniture, medical bills, etc are all paid from a joint account that is funded 100% by my paycheck. She makes no contributions to this account, but she does withdraw from it for fast food, snacks she buys just for herself, her own crafting hobbies, and she'll pick up maybe $100/month for some groceries.
I promised her before we were even married that if she wanted to be a stay-at-home mom or, at any point, go back to work, she'd have my full support either way, and I've kept that promise. She worked full-time for about 2 years before we had kids and worked a fair bit of part-time work before the kids started school in 2013. She's been at her part-time job for 2 years, so quite a span where she didn't work at all.
She works as a 1099 contractor and, despite repeatedly being asked to, won't reserve money for tax time. So, not only does she spend 100% of her paycheck, but I have to be sure that we save enough to cover her tax bill every year. She's never offered to contribute to tax payments we have to make.
I had gallbladder surgery and bariatric surgery, so I've had pretty restrictive dietary needs for the past 5-6 years. She often made comments about me being heavy and having a shortened life span, but since my bariatric surgery, she's expressed resentment about my body changing (I lost 120+lbs) and now doesn't care to learn what kinds of protein/carb/fat balance I need, and gained about 80lbs herself. As such, she does not contribute to any meal planning, which means I'm doing 95% of all meal planning, groceries, and cooking.
When it comes to cooking, I'm a damn good cook, and it's 100% because of YouTube. She grew up in an environment where she wasn't encouraged to cook or even learn to, so she lived on PBJ through college until we started dating and I would cook or take her out. When the kids were in their "picky" stages of 4yrs-9yrs of age, she got frustrated with cooking but years later still holds to that "NOBODY likes what I cook". So she makes maybe 2 or 3 meals per month now, and it's always the same meals. Last night, she cooked 10 people's worth of macaroni with a single pound of ground beef and more than a pound of cheese. I had to pick out the meat to get my protein and then drink a protein shake afterward, and then got offended that I threw away the noodles/cheese. (My diet needs high protein, low carbs, and almost no fat, she knows this because I tell her quite often, but she won't do anything about it; she's bought maybe 3 shelves worth of cookbooks and won't even open them or go take a class or anything.)
Our oldest kid has shown an interest in cooking and will maybe cook one meal per week and ask me to help him out, so I share what I've learned, things I've tried, experimented with, lessons learned, etc., and we have a good time, and they really appreciate the learning opportunity. On the rare occasion I do see my wife making dinner in the kitchen, I show her that I'm really happy about what she's making and ask if she wants help chopping or anything and I only get "no" as an answer and completely shut down like I'm not supposed to be in the kitchen. I'll try to have conversation with her but then she can't concentrate on cooking, chopping, etc, and then "ruined" dinner is my fault.
"Her" money versus "our" money, and how we spend our days/weekends
My wife had a relative die quite a few years ago and in the fall of 2018 was given a $250k inheritance. She has always referred to this as "her" money, "her" retirement, in case "she" needs a nursing home later. I'm not in her future plans, apparently. She gave $50k of it to a cousin who was deliberately left out of that relative's will. My wife's will leaves any remaining inheritance money to the kids. No mention of me anywhere whatsoever.
Once the inheritance money hit her bank account, she decides to buy a horse from halfway across the country and put it in a boarding stable 20 minutes from the house. It was a childhood dream of hers. Apparently, she's allowed to pursue her dreams and interests, it's "her" money, I'm not allowed to tell her what to do with it, but she complains when my 3D printing business makes enough money to buy another printer to keep up with demand... And my hobby takes up less time per week than she spends at the barn.
When she's not working her one-day-a-week job, she's at the boarding stable for a few hours per day, playing with her horse, taking selfies, taking him on walks, not actually riding him. With her remaining time at home, and when she gets home with the kids, she's lying on the couch, acting worn out and tired like she just bench-pressed the friggin' horse. (And yes, I know horse training CAN be exhausting, but she's not doing anything exhausting with him. She literally walks him on a path, or walks him in circles in an arena enclosure, or she's brushing him down and bathing him to look nice for Instagram)
In the summer of 2018, right before she got this inheritance money, she spent $50k of "our" money on a kitchen renovation that she insisted she designs herself, and then felt guilty about the bill and me having to take on more side contracting work to pay off the HELOC in a reasonable amount of time, and contributed back $10k to the whole project from "her" money afterward. "Her" money paid for the kids' orthodontics, about $3k each. But she literally contributes NOTHING else financially to the family.
If I had to guess, she's got about $150k left of that inheritance money, maybe less, she won't ever tell me about it. And we don't get a notice from the bank about interest gained at tax time every year because she put it in an account that makes ZERO interest. She sees my investments with 25%-40% gains, but won't ever ask for my help or input. Instead, she asked 3 other guys at work who told her to at least get a Vanguard account, but almost 6 years later she's never done it.
I work full-time as mentioned, and work from home. Work is typically 50+ hours per week but I try to cap it at 60-ish if I can. For the past month I've been on a project with a tight deadline, and working more like 10-14 hours per day 6 days per week. It's like that in tech, she's been understanding of this in the past, and I'm sure to take jobs where this is NOT the norm. Still, I'm always happy to help drive the kids to/from school or to music lessons or doctors, but I'm usually treated like "how dare you," that's "her" job, like that's her contribution to everything.
She works a part-time job doing marketing. Maybe 2-3 hours a day, one or two days per week. Sometimes busier in Q1 as they prep/plan most of the year, but then very low-lift afterward. She spends maybe 40 minutes per day taking the kids to/from school. Other than that, she's at the barn or on the couch. (have I mentioned we've gone through several couches that "our" money pays for??)
The marital imbalance I'm dealing with
She won't enforce chores for the kids, remind them to do laundry, or clean their rooms, or even shower. She'll text me "one of the boys smells" after taking them to school, but won't insist they shower, or back me up on the whole "c'mon guys, brush twice a day at least, and shower at least every 2 days with actual some soap on your bodies and actual shampoo on your hair, and use deodorant..." She'll make remarks like "Didn't you wear and sleep in those clothes for the past 3 days?" but won't make them change, or tell them to do their laundry.
She might do dishes 2 to 3 times per month, it's normally a chore we give to the kids, but she never enforces it. If they stack up for 3 days she'll do some of them but not all of them. One kid was born on an odd-numbered day, the other on an even-numbered day, so the rule is if today is an even or odd day, we know whose turn it is to do the dishes. And if the month has an odd number of days, I do the dishes on the 31st/29th day. But they're teenagers, they'd rather be in their rooms being teenagers, so I have to constantly remind them. Neither of them checks that the dishes are even clean before putting them away, something she specifically called out being embarrassed about when we were dating and visiting her mom's house where half of the dishes in the cupboard still had dried food all over them.
And then garbage day, or yard work, or vacuuming, cleaning a bathroom, cleaning their room, shoveling snow. She doesn't help enforce ANY of the chores that we agreed on. So I'm the sole disciplinarian around here, which makes the kids grow up thinking they better avoid me or I'm the jerk who's gonna put them to work.
Nothing happens around here unless I ask the rest of the family. I've purposefully left chores undone for "that's almost a health hazard" amounts of time and still nobody takes the initiative, nor will she ask the kids to help. They all see the work needs to be done, but they won't choose to help, and they're probably learning from her example of just sitting in some other room/area of the house and someone else will do it someday.
Even asking them "what kind of meals do you want this week, what haven't we had in a while, what's your favorite meal," you'd swear I was asking them to cure cancer every Saturday so I could start to plan meals for the following week and get groceries on Sunday, which has been our routine since the kids could talk.
Their cop-out is to skip the 3 shelves of cookbooks and flip through a binder we kept from a few months of Hello Fresh meals but then it's the same 10-12 meals that get kinda old after a while.
I feel like I have no help from anyone.
I reached my tipping point, and recently walked out on my family
A little over three weeks ago, I'm on this tight deadline at work, getting maybe 3-4 hours of sleep at night, pulling 10-14 hour days. It's a Wednesday, I remember about 430pm that I should commit my code, as I usually do 'cause I need to make dinner because nobody else is gonna do it. Oh, wait, tonight was grilled cheese and tomato soup -- literally, ANYONE ELSE in the house, including our 13yr old who has never shown any interest in cooking, could heat a can of soup and melt cheese between bread, right??? Surely SOMOENE else in the family will handle dinner, so I keep working (note, without asking anyone else to help with dinner), hoping someone else will handle the meal. (and yes, I know this is typically against my diet, but I indulge in this low-protein, high-carb, higher-fat meal about once a month.)
At 730pm my wife comes STOMPING into my office area, "I can't make the grilled cheese like you do." No politeness, just turns and stomps back to the kitchen. I follow her to the kitchen, where the tomato soup is on a RAPID boil, yet she hasn't even started making the grilled cheese sandwiches. I turn the soup off, take it off the burner, and start to describe what to do for the grilled cheese. It's honestly nothing special; I put shredded cheese in the pan to get crusty on the outside of the bread, then stack up the the grilled cheese, put break on top, let the inner cheese melt, and flip it onto more shredded cheese. Highly recommended.
She says "Oh" and ... LEAVES THE KITCHEN, leaving me there expecting me to make dinner... and I'm pissed. I should have just gone back to my work area, but she parks herself back on the couch.
I get everything made, and of course nobody sets the table, ever. Now I'm seriously pissed off, so I slam some dishes in the middle of the table and go back into the kitchen to get the pot of soup and plate of sandwiches. I get back to the dinner table, where my wife and youngest are just standing there, STILL not setting the table despite me standing there with food that I can't even put down. So I drop the food on the table wherever I can, soup splashes everywhere, and I start setting the table while they stand there and watch and ... I lost my cool. I flung bowls and spoons in the general area where they're supposed to be at the table, and I walked out of the house. I returned 4 or 5 hours later once they were all in bed.
The ONE meal in my busy schedule that ANY of them could have made, and her contribution was putting a can of soup in a pot.
She still didn't make any meals for the rest of the week. That Sunday she put a meal plan together for the whole following week. Again, all super carb-heavy when she knows my own diet can't handle that. And then she stopped planning ANYTHING ELSE SINCE THEN. The following week's "meal plan" was just a list of who was home on which night because of end-of-school-year events going on. No meals, no grocery list. Meanwhile I'm still on my deadline... Last week, no help at all. This week, zero help.
So this week's meal plan I finally set a boundary for myself that was VERY clear to them: I'm planning to cook 3 meals for the whole week, Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and left the rest open with no meal planned. Last night at 6pm she made her "hamburger helper" and plans "ramen" for tomorrow (again, all noodles and broth, very little protein), but no other help from her for the rest of the meal plan for the remainder of the week.
My recently ruined 50th birthday
My birthday was a little over a week ago. I turned 50. Send me your favorite dad jokes, please, I beg of you.
My wife asked me 2 or 3 months ago if I wanted any kind of party, etc. to which I said yeah, I'd love to have a few friends over, named several of them, all of whom she either has in her phone, or are guys married to women that I know she stays in regular contact with. I mentioned some all-you-can-eat places that we could go, just the 4 of us, where I could pick out good proteins etc. and they could eat whatever they wanted.
I got nothing. No dinner out. No party. No friends.
The night before my birthday, she was too lazy to get off the couch, so I went to bed alone. I woke up in bed alone. I told the family the day before that I wanted French Toast for breakfast, normally something we'd do on Christmas Day, but it was my 50th birthday gosh darn it, and I was even thawing bacon. I even bought all the groceries needed. Nope, had to cook that alone too, so I only made enough for me, and ate alone. Showered alone, 'cause we haven't been intimate in ... 3 months? 4 months? And who cares that it's my birthday.
Nobody asked if I wanted to go out anywhere, go see a movie, go for a hike with the dog, nothing. So I went out with the dog, alone.
That night I had to make dinner for the family, again, on my own friggin' birthday. Alone in the kitchen. AND I had to remind the kids to clean up the kitchen afterward 'cause they won't do it unless they're told. She bought tiny pieces of cheesecake for dessert, which she knows I don't like and can't eat because of my diet. I had one tiny piece, she and the kids ate the rest.
No cake, no candle, no balloons. It was my FIFTIETH birthday ...
We have some serious communication breakdown going on
Since I walked out of the house a few weeks back, she only talks to me when she wants something, and that comes across more as a demand, "I need you to pick the kids up from school, I have to be at work" and walks away She won't say good morning or even hi, unless I say it first. Lately, I say "hi" or "hey" as we're passing in the house and I get no response at all. I get literal one-word responses when I ask her a question. A few nights ago, several nights in a row, I'm in the living room on my laptop trying to get more work done, she'll come in the room, not ask me what I'm doing or if I'm working, and blast a TV show on her phone at near-maximum volume, and fall asleep on the couch.
She gets mad and offended any time I offer constructive criticism of any kind. And it doesn't matter how delicately I try to phrase things, I'll agonize for days over exactly which words to use, she'll get super defensive, angry and lash out, and give me the silent treatment for weeks.
Last Tuesday was an end-of-year awards show for our youngest, who's finishing 8th grade. He's really into music and he stayed after school to practice for the event. She comes home to get ready then decides to leave for the event by herself. I only noticed when the garage opened and closed. She doesn't say anything to me or our oldest kid about what time she wanted to leave or if we're ready to go, she just ... left. Well of COURSE we both want to go, but now we have to drive there separately. And he wins a TON of awards, one from his classmates, one from his teacher, and one from the school. I'd have been PISSED to have missed that. "Oh, I thought you didn't want to go..." was her reason later.
This past Saturday, I do ALL the yardwork 'cause she won't tell the kids to help and I'm frankly tired of having to ask for help. A few hours of yard work later, I tell my youngest to vacuum 'cause nobody vacuums around here unless I tell them to and honestly it's gross. I hop in the shower to clean up and cool down from the yard work. Youngest decides it's "too hot in the house" and sits in the kitchen to eat a popsicle instead of vacuuming. No backup from my wife at all on this, who's still parked on the couch. So I get upset with him, he does a half-assed job, says he's "tired' (from watching YouTube all day) and goes back to his room and we don't see him again the rest of the day. Again, no help or backup from my wife.
It's now 7pm in the house Saturday night, and -- shocker -- NOBODY has bothered to even ASK about dinner much less put any kind of food together. 8pm rolls around and my oldest finally emerges from his own room, starts thawing some chicken, and comes to ask me for help to make a meal, which I happily do. Until I get grumbly comments about "why are we eating so late." And my wife makes her way back to the couch. Not so much as a "thanks for cooking" or offer to clean up. And of COURSE nobody is doing the dishes, because DAD didn't remind anyone.
WHAT DO I DO??
19 years ago when we got married, this felt like a marriage. We did stuff together, we split things evenly, shared responsibility and chores, we both cooked, we bought groceries together. The first few years with kids were rough, but it at least FELT like a partnership once we figured out how to be parents. But something has shifted over the past decade, and this feels less and less like a partnership, much less feeling like a marriage. This whole relationship feels very one-sided, I get no appreciation for any of my constant hard work and being a provider. Instead, she's accused me, twice, of having an affair, once to the point of giving me anxiety/panic attacks for which I was almost hospitalized.
Now, she and the kids are noticing and talking behind my back (like I can't hear them) about the fact that I'm not wearing my wedding band anymore. Of course, the kids won't ask me directly, and I'm not bringing it up myself, and my wife's not talking to me anyway. Maybe she's still mad that I got mad a few weeks ago and walked out? Hard to know when the person won't talk to you unless they want something from you.
I'll put the damn ring back on when it feels like a marriage again. But then the next time it comes off, I think it'll stay off.
TL;DR! To this family, I feel that all I am to them is the income/paycheck and personal chef, and I'm ready to walk away. I can see why parents stay together "for the kids." As with most marriages, it started great; we've had bumpy times, but we always got through it together. Nothing like this, though. My wife won't communicate, gets defensive and angry, and doesn't contribute to the marriage or teach our kids about responsibility, so I look like a jerk all the time. Something has shifted over the past decade, and this feels less and less like a partnership. This whole relationship feels very one-sided, I get no appreciation for any of my constant hard work and being a provider.

I've been doing 3rd for like 7+ years and I'm telling you the worst part is nobody respects your schedule at all, the worst is when people try to make you feel bad for not getting up during the day to do things and constantly getting interrupted during your 8 hours, reaching R.E.M sleep is like impossible on third it would be the equivalent of someone coming to you at 12-1am and saying "hey you've been asleep long enough" it's super frustrating. Every girlfriend I've had or whatever is cool with it until a few months pass then it's like "you're always tired all the time" or "all you do is sleep" like yes! I do sleep during the time in which I am supposed to be asleep! And I do it, I know yall do it too where you like get 4 hours of sleep or whatever drink a pot of coffee and raw dog it like that's at least once a week for most of us but damn people just can't like not call you during the day or text you and get annoyed you don't pick up, it sucks man, like I totally get if for example like there's emergency vehicles going by or if you're in an apartment and gotta have something fixed they gotta do it during the day or whatever but it really sucks when friends and family get annoyed with you for trying to get your 8 hours

Edit: Completely forgot to mention that this is based on the Mac n cheese bites in campus 2, at the ball. My bad!
Edit 2: Reddit won’t let me reply for some reason 🥲
DO NOT USE THIS RECIPE IF YOU DO NOT HAVE A NON-WATER FIRE STOPPER!

1. Cook Mac n cheese (1-2 boxes)
2. Cool Mac n cheese for a few hours or overnight, then roll
3. Get panko bread crumbs or blend 3-5 bread slices on pulse until slightly clumpy
4. 3 eggs, whisk
5. Dip cooled Mac n cheese rolls into egg, then into bread crumbs (use more cheese if not sticky)

Danger Part!!! Have fire extinguishers/fire blankets ready, water won’t work if something goes wrong!!

1. Put cool oil in a pot, make sure it’s about 1-2 inches high
2. Heat oil to 350 Fahrenheit minimum
3. Using a large cooking spoon (preferably high-quality + not plastic) to dip your Mac n cheese rolls into the oil (PLEASE HAVE SOMEONE ELSE AT HOME WHILE YOU DO THIS! Make sure you have a non-water fire extinguisher!!)
4. Wait about half a minute on each side of the roll
5. Put on a nearby plate and wait to cool!

(If you have an air frier, just drizzle some oil on the top and fry them, much less danger + less oil waste)

Alright, buckle up because we're diving into why Vancouver's food scene is straight-up legendary. Forget the regular city vibes; Vancouver is a melting pot of flavors, a culinary carnival that beats anything else in North America. Join me on this personal quest to unravel why the combo of Asian influence, Pacific Northwest goodness, and chill dining vibes makes Vancouver the top pick for foodies.
Asian Culinary Delights: Tradition and Creativity Unleashed
Vancouver's streets resonate with the aromas of traditional Asian dishes, prepared with a touch of authenticity that transports you across borders. Picture slurping savory ramen in Chinatown or savoring hand-pulled noodles in a cozy corner of East Van. But what makes Vancouver's Asian food scene truly exceptional is its fusion of tradition with modern creativity.
In this city, innovation meets tradition on a plate. Take, for instance, squid ink brioche with sea urchin pâté – a daring yet harmonious blend of flavors that pushes the boundaries of culinary expectations. Vancouver's chefs are culinary artists, creating dishes that not only pay homage to traditional recipes but also elevate them into extraordinary, palate-pleasing experiences.
And let's not forget the matcha mochi croissants that have taken the city by storm. A fusion of Japanese mochi and French croissants, these delectable pastries are a testament to Vancouver's culinary diversity. Each bite is a dance of textures and tastes, showcasing the city's flair for seamlessly blending cultures and cuisines.
Pacific Northwest's Grocery List: Seafood Galore and More
Living next to the Pacific Ocean is like having a seafood aisle in your backyard. Fresh salmon, sweet Dungeness crab, and chubby spot prawns – Vancouver's seafood game is on point. And let's not forget the local veggies and meats, straight from the region's green landscapes. It's like nature’s way of saying, "Hey, enjoy the good stuff!"
Nature Vibes: Dining with a View
Vancouver's layout is like a dating app for food and nature; they're a match made in heaven. Whether you're brunching in a leafy neighborhood or devouring seafood with an ocean panorama, the city serves up an Instagrammable backdrop for every meal. Picture this: a patio, a breeze, and the scent of fir trees – eating out just got a whole lot cooler.
Neighborhood Chronicles: Culinary Adventures Off the Beaten Path
Downtown is cool, but venture out, and you'll hit foodie gold. Commercial Drive's eclectic spots or Richmond's legit Asian flavors – Vancouver's neighborhoods are like culinary treasure maps. Each area has its own flavor story, tempting you to be the food explorer you were born to be.
Conclusion
Vancouver isn't just a city with good food; it's a food fiesta waiting to happen. The Asian vibes, the Pacific Northwest's goodies, and the city's chill connection with nature make dining here a full-blown experience. Vancouver isn't just North America's food champion; it's a vibe, a journey through flavors, and a big, fat stamp on your foodie passport. So, next time you're craving a culinary adventure, Vancouver's got your back, fork, and knife.
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Hi everyone! I’m looking to DIY our decorations. Has anyone done anything cool with potted plants (mostly greenery - wedding is in the winter) and candles? Looking for inspiration! And for those of you who did DIY, how did you manage set up on your wedding day?

-Ok, here me out: It was really f-ing hot today. Cool breeze did what it could, all things considered. Take this review with a grain of salt: as I may have been sodium-deficient during the show. It was really gnarly tho: Daniel Markham closed out the Karbach Love Street Stage at 4pm - just at peak asymptote with the waft of butt-crack port-a-potty and kettle-flavored corns & when your knees really let you know how dey feelin'. The inflatable and Giant LoveStreet beer can was no match for the sonic force that forced its presence into the otherwise-bare and plain atmosphere - taking the balloon can as victim like every one of those roadies on the way to the show.
The smart move was to grab a lemonade, and hopefully find a bit of shade, while this local Quintet powerfully laid, a down-right dirty-laundry, air-raid, boiler-room of a driving 45-min set - reminiscent of a season of REM shows in the dusty Atlanta backyards of the 1990's. Emotionally-speaking, there was a genuine connection when Markham made a half-joking explanation for each of the meanings of the song - by repeating the name of the song. I dunno if that helps the search-engine-optimization? His laid-back demeanor laide bare a contrast to the buzz-saw distorted lighting bolt of energy he brought to the stage. Luckily, the festival storm shelter was nearby; in the event one of the performers summoned the thunder Gods, we could seek shelter from any more cray cray stormy-(daniel markham's) whether in the parking structure >.<
Two guitars split melodies and played counterpoint to a helluva backline. The plaid-clad brothers were so synchronized they must have originally been Siamese twins who memorized and harmonized together. The ostensible ostinato during Heartbeat laid a pulse that subconsciously activated my toe-tapping and kept me moving. Keys played glue, wearing red 'n looking cool. Doesn't matter if its not true, people are talking about it now.
'Big Star' hits hard; however, its my LEAST Favorite Country Bar where some rotten a$$h0le ganked all gears a few years ago. This show was on Sunday and it was HOT; and we all start over sometimes, so I didn't do shit this 'Lazy Sunday' - the tune was cool, tho kinda busy if u ask me. I would also describe the way 'the way it goes' goes, but its kinda hard to describe the way it goes without hearing it first, ya feel me?
Bleep-bloop & Anywhoop, they played most (g-rated cuts) of the new album - 'Standing in the Rain' did not prove to be prophetic, despite DM's best summons.
I wasnt sure if I heard my Second Favorite song before, but I'll see if I dont find the record store on my way back down to the spot. Defibri-Ventillator was a throwback surprise and the only "Classic" cut of the show as i recall. Mind you, my gonzo-ass melting pot was half in the bag in a puddle of my own making: u know how it go - sweat gon' flow. The "Sky is a Fire" echoed back to those west-Texas canyon coyotes - who came spilling-out fast; when Ralph's and the Thrift Store closed some years back.
This show was great - they are great - Catch them if you can, while you can, when you can, etc. YT for a new music vid and he just dropped a new album the other day. We drove in just for their set and it was worth it. Debate potential DMB band names in the comments??
P.S. Something must be growing well in Richardson, because your Wildflower was well-run and folks were friendly, the Texas way as they s-blah blah blah I'm just kidding.
We're all in this together - might as well dance or something.
P.P.S Aaand, I got fired today. No regrets, but I'd better stop editing before things get drunk and sloopy.

Raid time 9pm-12am PT
Raid days: Tue-Thu-Fri-Sun
We are looking for people for dawntrail savage tier and new ultimates, aiming to clear the tier in 5 to 8 weeks.
4/8 looking for the following roles

• 2 healers
  
• 1 non RP VPR Melee DPS
  
• 1 Caster DPS (applicants currently being considered)
  

Ultimate experience appreciated but not mandatory if prior tiers were done efficiently
All members currently have all/mutiple ultimates cleared
I am looking for people who can withstand the challenge and with sense of cooperation, contact me to talk about it

Role	Logs
Tank 1	https://www.fflogs.com/charactena/lamia/darkness%20hecatombe
Tank 2	https://www.fflogs.com/charactena/diabolos/kilika%20ex
Melee 1	https://www.fflogs.com/charactena/malboro/malaki%20deltorres
Phys range	https://www.fflogs.com/charactena/behemoth/wyssberk%20kajitani

General expectations:

• Come prepared: Have food/pots, study any strategies we've agreed upon, review VODs/toolboxes/docs, etc.
  
• Be punctual: Inform the group if you'll be absent as far ahead as possible
  
• Bring your best: Don't overcommit to 3 other statics and then come tired; come ready to raid
  
• Know your job: Know your rotation and your raid buff/burst coordination, be willing to take constructive criticism
  
• Prioritize the strat: Execute the mechanics to the best of your ability, even at the expense of your dps, greed can come later
  
• Communicate: Talk out any issues, coordinate on healing plans, raid mitigations, etc.
  
• Keep a cool head: No tilting over group or individual mistakes
  

Raid times currently 9 pm-12 am PT. Raid days currently Tue-Thu-Fri-Sun. interested, please DM on Discord! darknesshecatombe

First Previous Next
Mike marveled at the beauty of the inner city. He was familiar with Kael architecture and had even seen some up close at the university, but it was far grander here than on Earth, and it was far grander in person than in the videos and pictures he'd seen. The buildings were a hybrid of Gothic and expressionist architecture built with classical aesthetics.
Mosaics, statues, and murals were everywhere, but despite the grand buildings and beautiful decorations, Mike couldn’t keep his eyes off the ground. Even the streets are beautiful.
The ground he and Dreki walked was like a freshly cooled lava flow paved by slates of colored glass that softly glowed in the dimming light of the evening sun.
As they walked, Mike was woken from his trance by the scent of meat cooking.
Dreki smiled and said, “Smells good. You hungry?”
Mike nodded.
Dreki grinned and led Mike around the corner to a food cart. Mike salivated as the flames licked and sputtered at fat dripping from hunks of what looked like octopus turning on spits. The aroma of meat and spices was intoxicating. Dreki ordered them octopus skewers. As he handed Mike his skewer, Dreki said, “You’re never going to be able to eat earth octopus again.”
Mike chuckled. “I’ve never had it in the first place; I grew up in the mountains thousands of miles from the ocean.”
Dreki looked incredulous. “Did you not have rivers?”
Mike shrugged his shoulders, “Not with octopi.”
Dreki raised his free hand in exasperation. “Whatever. Either way, you’ll be disappointed by the rubbery trash humans call an octopus after eating this.”
Mike took a bite of the meat and groaned in pleasure. It tasted like a beefier version of bacon. Mike wolfed down his skewer in the blink of an eye and exclaimed, “That was fucking good!”
Dreki gave him a “Mhhhmh” with his still mouth full.
Dreki finished his food and led Mike off the main road onto a footpath flanked by wispy trees with dark blue leaves.
Eventually, the pair entered the back garden of a building that looked like a melted cathedral. Dreki led him through an open gate into a well-lit waiting room and held out his arm. “Hand me your bag; I’ll take it to your room. I’ll come get you after.”
Mike slipped his bag from his shoulders and handed it to Dreki. As the herculean Kael was leaving, he turned and said, “Try not to scream when they brand you; it’s an ill omen.”
Mike drummed his fingers on the armrests of the chair in the sea foam green waiting room, which was decorated with pictures of duels and exotic plants in white and blue ceramic pots. He was pretty sure that more than one of the photographs was of Dreki’s father.
Mike was anxious. Getting branded would suck, and getting an AR implant would involve someone sticking a drill through his skull. And without his gargantuan minder, Mike felt almost naked. He knew that he would probably be fine, but this was the home of the enemy. Without any weapons, he stood little chance against any Kael worth their salt in a fight.
Mike chided himself for the thought. Why does everything have to revolve around violence? Is there no world where you can just get along with them?
Mike frowned. No. I hate them. Despite his barely contained rage, Mike felt nauseous as blood-soaked memories bombarded his mind.
He doubted that he could kill again, even if it meant dying.
Dreki’s not so bad; maybe out here, more of them are like him than Ocidea.
Mike’s melancholy was interrupted when the tall door at the far end of the room opened. A short, for a Kaelman, nurse wearing pea green scrubs walked out, locked eyes with him, and shouted, “Mike Anderson!”
Mike followed the short Kael nurse into a cream-colored operating room. In the center an instrument table hovered next to an operating table. Besides the operating table stood a middle-aged Kael with tusks intricately inlaid with silver in triangular patterns. His white lab coat had Chief Surgeon Athocill emblazoned over the right breast pocket.
The Chief Surgeon stared off into space, engrossed in AR. The nurse who brought him in pointed to the operating table. Mike sat down.
A slender Kaelwoman in scrubs and a lab coat identifying her as the assistant surgeon walked in and started arranging the tools.
She glanced at Mike and said, “Take off your shirt.”
Mike pulled the black T-shirt he was wearing over his head and set it on the table next to him.
Without looking away from his work, the Chief Surgeon tossed Mike a leather strap and said, “Brand him.”
The short nurse pulled a heat stamp from its case and rolled the numbers to their correct positions. Mike put the leather strap in his mouth and grabbed onto the table.
Dreki’s warning rang through his head*.*
The Nurse carefully placed the print plate just below Mike’s collarbone and pushed it down. The heat stamp's coils flashed white. Mike bit down on the leather strap as hard as he could, and his knuckles popped as he gripped the edges of the operating table as hard as he could. Tendrils of smoke billowed off Mike’s chest as his flesh was seared, and the acrid smell of burnt hair and torched flesh wafted through the room.
Mike stifled a groan as the nurse peeled the superheated steel off his chest. The Nurse set the smoking stamp back in its case to cool and picked up a small jar of viscous blue fluid and a brush. The nurse opened the jar, dipped the brush in the blue goop, and painted it over Mike’s still-smoking burn. Mike jolted at the freezing touch of the brush. His ribs and abdomen rose and fell rapidly as he took short, shallow breaths as the freezing cold shocked his nervous system.
The nurse put the brush away and closed the jar. “Done”
Mike let the leather strap drop from his mouth and put on a straight face as he externally disguised the pain. Showing weakness was not an option, even if every fiber of his being commanded him to scream.
The assistant took hold of Mike’s arm and spoke. “Make a fist and squeeze.”
Mike did as she asked. It was a good distraction from the pain. His knuckles turned white, and the veins in his forearm bulged after a few seconds of pressure.
“You’ll feel a tiny pinch.”
The assistant jabbed the needle into the crook of his arm.
Mike’s head immediately felt heavy, and his whole body tingled. He tried to stay upright, to no avail. His vision grayed out as his head plopped onto the table with a thud.
The surgeon looked to his assistant and asked, “Is he out?”
“Yes.” She answered.
“Let us begin.”
The assistant used a small metal tool to pull Mike's right eyelid open. The chief surgeon plunged a gold needle into the depths of Mike’s right eye.
The surgeon carefully pulled the needle from the human’s eye and set the syringe back down on the floating instrument table.
“Targeting chip in place. Next stage.”
The nurse began rummaging around a drawer in the back of the room, and the chief surgeon plucked a gleaming silver drill from the instrument table.
The drill in the surgeon's hand whirred as he plunged it into Mike’s skull. After just a few seconds, the drill bored through Mike's skull. The surgeon pulled the drill out of the human's head and angled the bit down into a small metal dish that was in the extended arms of the assistant. The chief surgeon hit a button on the drill with his thumb.
A bloody, dime-sized piece of Mike’s skull dropped to the bottom of the metal dish with a clang.
He set the drill back down on the instrument table and held out his hand. “Drone.”
The nurse put an insect-like metal contraption that resembled a whip scorpion in the surgeon’s hand. The chief surgeon's eyes glazed as he entered his AR and took control of the drone. It popped out of his hand and burrowed itself into the hole in Mike's skull.
Inside his AR, he brought the drone to the occipital lobe of Mike’s brain.
“Deploying lattice.”
The arachnid-like drone injected small metal spikes with spools of minuscule wire attached—anchor points—into Mike’s brain. After just a minute's work, the surgeon had crafted a web of wires across Mike's brain. He brought the drone back to the center of Mike’s brain and planted one final anchor spike. A reel inside one of the claw-like appendages at the front of the drone spun, cinching the lattice of wires down to the last anchor point. The surgeon brought the drone around again, ensuring that the web of copper was completely taut against the human’s brain. He brought the drone back out and smiled ever so slightly as the blood and cerebrospinal fluid-soaked drone hopped back into his gloved hand.
Chief Surgeon Athocill smiled and jovially said, “Patch him up.” He was pleased with his performance today. This was the first human to get an advanced AR package, and the procedure went flawlessly. The assistant grabbed a quarter-sized piece of flesh-colored putty and carefully placed the small piece of skull onto it. She placed the putty over the hole in Mike’s head, and it took to life, bonding the fragment of bone back into place and sealing the surface wound.
The surgeon removed his gloves and began typing on a holoprojection. “All systems are operational. I’m linking him to the military network now.”
The assistant pulled the instrument table to her side and plucked a syringe filled with neon green fluid. She said, “I’m waking him up now,” as she plunged the needle into Mike’s arm.
Mike’s eyes flew open, and he grit his teeth against the pain. Tears seeped from his stinging and blood-filling right eye. Every heartbeat brought a jolt of crippling pain to his head. And worst of all was the searing pain from the brand on his chest and the aching cold that barely disguised it. Mike sat up with a grunt. Pain shot through his chest when he brought his hand to his head and felt the hardened disc of putty on his temple.
The surgeon addressed Mike with a soothing tone. “On the count of three, I’m going to activate your AR. It will feel like your head is on fire for a few seconds, but it will only last a few seconds. One… Two… Three!”
Mike nearly collapsed with the pain, but he managed to limit his response to a grunt. Light flashed before his eyes, and Kaelic text appeared in the center of his vision. The doctor asked, “What do you see.”
Mike answered, “AR active. And below that, it says setup wizard.” Despite his best efforts, pain was evident in his voice.
“Ok, Mike, I want you to think, ‘open setup wizard.’”
Mike blinked a few times. “Nothing happened.”
The surgeon said, “Think it in Kaelic.”
Mike’s brow furrowed in concentration. He was fluent in Kaelic, but not to the point where he could think in the language at will.
“Ok, I got it. It says setting menu at the top, and there are a ton of things here. Do you want me to read them off?”
“No. Can you scroll down?”
“Yes.”
“Good. You should be able to get the hang of this pretty quickly; it's very intuitive. You’ll see that there are a few HUD profiles that you can pick from. I’d recommend you start from profile two and then customize it as you see fit.”
Mike nodded as he selected profile two.
“OK, now think clear.”
Mike did as the surgeon asked. His vision was now cleared.
The surgeon smiled. “Feel free to fiddle with the settings, just think clear if it gets cluttered, and reset if you make a dog’s breakfast of it. You’ll have a headache for the next few days, and you may start having more vivid dreams, but other than that, you’ll barely notice the change. Just take it easy for the next few days, and don’t itch at your brand or your eye.”

I really need perspective from other people on 2 issues.
TLDR: 1. How often do you raise your voice at your toddler? 2. Am I being AH in saying that it’s not normal?
My husband grew up in a yelling home. Bickering all the time and then the parents were too nice for a while, rinse, repeat. 0 communication skills. I grew up with parents saying I (we) needed to solve my own conflicts (with my siblings) from a young age. I’d get angry at my siblings and then we’d apologize/help each other and that was that. My norm is getting angry, cooling off and then verbalizing an issue.
My husband’s temper used to be short, now it’s medium. He worked hard to be less passive aggressive, less volatile, use his words.
However, he still raises his voice at our son (21 months) 2+ times a day. Ie When changing his diaper our son will squirm, try to turn away (I don’t think he likes his ankles being held together as he doesn’t cry with me), and my husband will say “no! Stop. Stop it. Cut it out! God damn it”. I’ve asked him not to hold his ankles together, to give him a distraction (squeeze pouch, peel a tangerine, etc), or to ask him to do things in a normal time of voice or explain so that long term our son can understand what’s being asked and comply. He brushes this off. I’ve asked before the change, during and I’ve talked to him about it when he’s calm.
My husband was in the bathroom using the toilet, my son went in there and started messing with the cat scoop which is a no-go. I heard the tell tale clang and got up to walk in and help. As I was walking to the bathroom my husband is yelling at him to stop, drop it, cut it out. This doesn’t help, it’s not effective, our child isn’t listening to the direction so I detach the scoop and let son know the litter box is off limits and yucky and also ask my husband to give our son what to do instead of what not to do. My husband is already really irate and snaps at me.
There are times my husband doesn’t talk to him like that. He explains that things are ouch or not, is patient, and is willing to teach son how to use X thing correctly or why we don’t do something. But there are a significant portion of instances where my husband is not thinking in my son’s shoes and just speaks to him in such an unempathetic manner. He gets overwhelmed, overstimulated easily. He’s a very anxious person and goes 0-50 pretty easily if things aren’t perfect (and they never have been). He talks to the dog like this, too. (He says the dog is never going to change so he just gets frustrated when she barks, etc. He is eternally stuck in helplessness while I am an eternal optimist).
This is every day, multiple times a day. But not ever around other people or in public. This is why I feel it isn’t normal.
Is that normal? To talk to your son like that in 25% of your interactions? Do you?
He says I talk to our son like that too and when I asked him to explain he cited when I was trying to get him away from a broken plant pot and when I was trying to get him to not spill a cup of coffee on himself today (the latter was a very short, “no, put that back!” and when he didn’t I gently took it from him and set it next to me). There’s a difference between safety and inconvenience.
My second ask, when I try to talk to my husband about these things he redirects away from himself and says “you do xyz things wrong too” or “well what would you have done any better” or “oh my god it’s always something”. To be fair I do feel pretty anxious/sick about what messages my son is going to take away from our household dynamic so I do think I’m (clearly not very helpfully) commenting too much when I see these things. Do you think…I guess, what can I do better? Or is it ok so I should just stop commenting? I feel like I’m stuck in a very sad and anxious place about what we’re modeling for our son and then that makes me not see the good in my husband.
For context. He is the SAHD and just finished school for the semester. He’s stressed about money right now as I just quit my job, but I intend to have a job within the next two months and my family won’t let anything happen to us. In general he is always like this, it doesn’t really go up and down. No other stressors.
I guess I’m just seeing if people say this is normal then I can just let it go and remove a layer of stress from our dynamic. I feel like our days are a cycle of arguing about this.
I will say, he has allowed himself to go with the flow of my parenting. No getting mad about crayon on the walls, or taking stuff out of the trash, or throwing food on the floor. We just teach him not to do it and teach him to clean stuff up/rely on explaining things and now son doesn’t do those things anymore. Our son helps us do dishes, make food, sweep, vacuum so I don’t think we’re doing too bad, there.

This post is very long. edit -- I added a short summary here, https://www.reddit.com/PSVcomments/1cw1rfa/comment/l4uu4xu/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=mweb3x&utm_name=mweb3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button
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TOO-LONG-SUMMARY
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So, I was very much looking forward to Legendary Tales for a while now after hearing so many great things.
I bought it on sale a couple days ago and played the first hour or so, completing the tutorial and entering the main hub. Then I uninstalled and refunded it.
This is not a 'hate post' and I hope that this post will not only help people understand some of the issues of this game, and what this game is NOT, but also help people understand what this game is and why you might love it. I talked about my criticisms with others who love the game to help me approach this and hopefully deliver some useful thoughts. It's worth noting that I got lots of agreement about my criticisms from the people I talked to - who still love the game.
In short,
People love this game for the combat development in the context of a 40+ hour adventure. All the depth to the skill trees, which of course in my hour I didn't touch. The creativity of building the mechanics of a character RPG style - except you get to physically battle in VR. The reward of unlocking that cool skill you've been excited to try out, or finding a legendary that's a blast to use. Even in my short time with the game I could feel the beginnings of this with the parry system. I did have fun fighting skeletons with a simple sword and no skills, and felt the challenge as I had to aim my sword deflections well and time my counterstrikes. There is an effective mechanic preventing waggle-fest and I can begin to imagine all the room to develop your combat mechanics in a way that is, fun and rewarding, and uniquely VR.
Sounds great right? To some it truly is.
But to me, not so much. Why? Because everything else is lacking to a degree I did not expect.
I've been playing a lot of The Light Brigade lately. And although these two games are totally different, it's a useful game to bring up because The Light Brigade excels in all the ways that Legendary Tales significantly falls short.
Atmosphere - music and sound, lighting and colours, art design, character and enemy models
Interfacing - Onboarding and intuitive learning, UI design and fluidity, control mapping, options, grabbing/interacting with objects, general polish
Storytelling - Plot, lore, world building, characters, character and enemy expressiveness, writing
For many people who play games, combat is at the forefront of their interests. For me, it always takes a backseat priority - if its present at all - to the above three aspects. The combat in Bloodborne is great, but it is because it excels in those 3 aspects that it's one of my favourite games. I also love lengthy games like Pentiment, Disco Elysium, Planescape Torment, and Pathologic 2, which have minimal or no combat and lots of reading!
Legendary Tales is simply mediocre in those three bolded aspects and for me that's a hard pass. If these aspects were serviceable to me - done well enough to facilitate the combat - I might have kept going. But I don't use the world 'mediocre' lightly. This is the appropriate word to me, and because of that, I did not want to spend 40+ hours in this world.
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DETAILS
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For those interested, or for the developers, I will continue with a breakdown of these aspects I am criticizing, trying to go through everything I felt about them in the first hour or so of playing.
Main menu was my favourite part. I liked the scene + music together. Nice. I was looking forward to playing and this had me feeling fuzzy and ready to enjoy the game. Unfortunately, it was not to be.
The very first issue I noticed was that the game felt washed out. Even in that main menu I liked, I was feeling like it was a bit washed out. So I tried adjusting brightness down... then the darker areas felt better, but the light areas felt off. The more I played and tried to adjust to find the right equilibrium, the more I realized the lighting and contrast is just not good and adjusting brightness can't save that.
The second issue I noticed was the menu cursor to select things. It felt like an early VR game that hadn't quite figured out VR menus yet. It's useable but not fluid and pleasing.
The third issue I noticed was the unintuitive controls. I thought that this was the kind of game, kind of like a Souls game, where you aren't taught everything but learn things as you go in an organic manner. Maybe some of that exists in this game, but mostly it's simply bad control design and a bad tutorial. It's the difference between having barriers that have purpose, purposeful friction, and feel good when discovered vs barriers that feel pointless and just build frustration without purpose. The controls feel like a mess and while it's apparent that people can get used to them as they play more, it's not in a justified sense.
Along with this are interfacing issues. For example, grabbing items feels very awkward. The motions are clunky, for example the way a weapon will slowly glide into place in your hands. There's so many interfacing issues. The interface to see weapon/item stats on weapons that are laying about is clunky, the interface to switch weapons is clunky, the magic interface is clunky, dialogue boxes feel clunky,... all of these things feel clunky both in terms of feel and also aesthetic.
A very straightforward and obvious example is dialogue. Character dialogue is presented in a large bland text on a page. To progress through the dialogue, there's no obvious place to click or button to push. In fact, you have to click a particular area of the page, which feels totally arbitrary and unintuitive. Sure, once you learn, you can do it fine, but it's just bad interface design.
To go back to The Light Brigade, think about the difference in both feel and aesthetic to opening a chest or breaking a pot. Grabbing a gun and how it arrives to your hand. The attractive dialogue boxes. Watching a reward pop out of a chest, picking a tarot card. Putting objects into your waist pouch or taking them out. These interactions are all comfortable, beautiful, fluid, and intuitive.
The next thing on my mind was sound.
As I played the tutorial, the soundscape was barren. There was a wind loop, which didn't loop correctly leaving a solid second of space between the end and beginning. Sounds didn't feel like they were placed quite right in 3D space. Point-based sounds (like the crackling of a campfire, that comes from a specific point in space) had too small of a zone (the sound should be heard from further away). In general the soundscape was very barebones. And when I encountered the first character, not only did the character look totally goofy and out of place, but they made no sounds when 'speaking', not even grunts or gibberish sound.
To skip ahead for a moment, I also felt the music did not match the environments enough. The music was quite pretty - that's not the problem. It just didn't feel like the environments were quite synergized with the music.
Again for both music and sound, think of the gun sounds, the ability sounds, the sound of the enemies as they spot you, the sound of the environment, the footsteps and dash, the grunts of characters when the speak, the music... not only does it all sound great, but it all feels like expressions of the unique world of The Light Brigade. This is excellent sound and music design, that truly bring the world to life.
Although a minor complaint, I also noticed lots of grammar and spelling errors. Although I understand the team is in South Korea, and I appreciate the challenges of translation, just like with everything else I was just expecting... more polish. I thought it would feel like a full package, at indie scale. But it feels very much like a partial package.
And that segues into the writing...
There are games with simple and/or unmemorable story, where the story is still servicing and facilitating the gameplay.
And then there is just plain bad writing.
This is very much the latter.
Maybe a bit of this goes back to translation but I am doubtful that it fares much better in original Korean in essence.
The writing is goofy, juvenile, poorly structured, and generic.
I was also seriously turned off by a couple lines in particular, that I'm sure affect me more than most but I will mention anyways. One was something like "valuable gem missing. And a hot girl". Like... There's nothing inherent about calling a woman (or a man) hot that I don't like. Yes gamers, you are allowed to find women attractive, relax. But it's the way its written,... I'm not going to turn this into an essay about male gaze but the way its written simply services a particular male audience that casually objectifies women.
Even worse was the final line I read, a quest line. Paraphrasing, but the primary descriptive words are all exact: "Go kill 10 kill peasants in a refugee camp". I don't think I need to elaborate, people who are on a similar page to me will understand why this was just an incredibly gross line.
I know the above two dialogue criticisms will not be shared by everyone and not affect everyone the same way. I am expressing them as part of what I felt, my personal criticisms and experience, just like the rest of what I'm sharing.
Again to compare to The Light Brigade... every line feels thoughtful and builds character and develops the lore. Whether its the forlorn lines of NPC members of The Light Brigade, or the scenes that appear between runs, and other bits and pieces you get. The Light Brigade develops so much world with few words, it's quite impressive and again a beacon that Urban Wolf Games can learn from.
The final issue I'll discuss was something that struck me earlier on. That is, player character model and lack of customization.
First of all - again an issue that the majority here probably won't be affected by - I could not pick my character model until after completing the tutorial. Specifically, I was forced to do calibration as a male character model, and then had to play the tutorial as this character. Minor complaint but again just another polish issue.
Both male and female models are just... boring designs, and the female model is again very juvenile, obviously serving a primarily male audience, whether intentionally or not.
But more importantly, there's no character customization. Not even the tiniest bit. Even the ability to change just skin colour and hair only would go a long way. Especially in a lengthy adventure like this, I need to be able to identify with my character. Especially with multiplayer it seems essential to me, but even if it were single player, and as someone who plays primarily in single player, character customization is hugely impactful to me.
This does not really have a contrast in The Light Brigade - there's no character customization in The Light Brigade either, although the kind of game it is, it's not as relevant. That said, I do think it would be a nice touch if there WAS some minor character customization in The Light Brigade, and especially if you could play as a woman instead of man if you so choose. Although maybe lore-wise it is intended that all members are male except for 'Mother'. This hasn't been established with any good reason though. So on this point I would lightly criticize The Light Brigade as well.
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ENDING THOUGHTS
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Ultimately, Legendary Tales is quite simply a very indie game that probably had a very small team and limited funds. I don't know for sure, but probably there *wasn't* a dedicated writer, a dedicated UI and interface designer, etc.
However, these things are still failings of the game and its design. The greatest indie games to me are ones that successfully recognize their scope limitations and develop something complete within that scope. Whether it's the roguelike world of The Light Brigade, or the very short and stylish Tiger Blade, or Jeff Minter's trippy games like Akka Arrh and Polybius, or the retro Silent Hill aesthetic of Organ Quarter, or the suspenseful hotel of Propagation Paradise Hotel... all these games are made by small teams but successfully navigate their limited funds to deliver a full package within an appropriately limited scope.
On the one hand, I really value and support BJ's push for indie games to be respected and for that respect to reflect in the price consumers are prepared to pay. But after being totally on board with the price of Legendary Tales based on what I read from BJ and reviewers and many regular players too, I have to disagree with this game's pricing. This game is not polished enough, and is not a full package. That the game sucked out so much funds is an error of scope.
Maybe I will be in the minority, and Legendary Tales has been a success so it seems that I am, and so good on them for knowing the value of their game to the demographic they targeted I guess. And regardless, even if the pricing and attempted scope of the game are an error on the dev's part, I'm glad for the dev to earn back as much as they can, or even turn a profit hopefully.
But to me, reflecting back to the question the devs put forward: "Do you want to see deep combat development like this in VR for a 40+ hour adventure from indie devs?" The answer is no, I don't. I do consider the scope of this game an error on the part of the developers. It sounds like they did not even turn a profit enough to allow them to expand their team (but maybe I'm misunderstanding). I hope that they do continue with VR development, but instead focus on a much smaller scope game. Deliver a polished, complete package within a smaller scope, implementing a much tighter budget that will allow for potential turning of profit with an appropriately lighter sale price (maybe targeting a $30 game?).
If that is successful, do it again, and again, until they can expand and eventually work toward their dream adventure RPG, hiring actual writers and UI designers and sound designers etc. For me personally, this is simply not the kind of game you can half-bake. It should be attempted again when, and only when, they feel they have budget to do this in a truly full and polished manner.
I had the pleasure of meeting BJ briefly at PAX East. He struck me as friendly, kind, totally genuine, and incredibly passionate as a game developer and a VR game developer in particular.
I do wish this team good luck and despite my own harsh criticism I am glad so many ARE enjoying this game, and also feel the price point is justified. I want devs to earn money, including Urban Wolf Games. And I hope that they will continue to develop and bring more VR to the world.
I hope that my criticism is constructive and useful toward these same goals.

How to Make Pot Brownies: A Step-by-Step Guide

Making pot brownies is a popular and enjoyable way to consume cannabis, combining the delightful experience of eating a sweet treat with the effects of cannabis. Here's a comprehensive guide to help you create delicious and potent pot brownies.

Ingredients

For the Cannabis-Infused Butter (Cannabutter):

• 1 cup (2 sticks) of unsalted butter
• 1 cup of ground cannabis (decarboxylated)

For the Brownies:

• 1 cup of cannabis-infused butter (cannabutter)
• 1 cup of granulated sugar
• 1 cup of packed brown sugar
• 4 large eggs
• 1 teaspoon of vanilla extract
• 1 cup of all-purpose flour
• 1/2 cup of unsweetened cocoa powder
• 1/2 teaspoon of salt
• 1/2 teaspoon of baking powder
• 1 cup of chocolate chips (optional)
• 1/2 cup of chopped nuts (optional)

Tools

• Baking sheet
• Parchment paper
• Saucepan
• Fine mesh strainer or cheesecloth
• Mixing bowls
• Whisk or electric mixer
• 9x13 inch baking pan
• Spatula

Step-by-Step Instructions

1. Decarboxylate Your Cannabis

Decarboxylation is the process of activating the THC in cannabis, making it psychoactive.

1. Preheat the oven: to 240°F (115°C).
2. Prepare the cannabis: Break down the cannabis into small pieces using your hands or a grinder.
3. Spread on a baking sheet: Place the cannabis evenly on a baking sheet lined with parchment paper.
4. Bake: in the preheated oven for about 40 minutes, stirring every 10 minutes to ensure even heating. The cannabis should turn a light brown color.

2. Make the Cannabutter

1. Melt the butter: In a saucepan, melt 1 cup of butter over low heat.
2. Add decarboxylated cannabis: Stir in the decarboxylated cannabis and simmer on low heat for 2-3 hours. Make sure the mixture doesn’t boil.
3. Strain the mixture: Use a fine mesh strainer or cheesecloth to strain the cannabutter into a clean bowl, removing the plant material. Let it cool.

3. Prepare the Brownie Batter

1. Preheat the oven: to 350°F (175°C).
2. Mix sugars and butter: In a large mixing bowl, combine the granulated sugar, brown sugar, and 1 cup of cannabutter. Mix well until creamy.
3. Add eggs and vanilla: Beat in the eggs one at a time, then add the vanilla extract.
4. Combine dry ingredients: In a separate bowl, whisk together the flour, cocoa powder, salt, and baking powder.
5. Mix wet and dry ingredients: Gradually add the dry ingredients to the wet ingredients, mixing until well combined.
6. Optional mix-ins: Fold in the chocolate chips and nuts if desired.

4. Bake the Brownies

1. Prepare the baking pan: Grease a 9x13 inch baking pan or line it with parchment paper.
2. Pour the batter: Spread the brownie batter evenly in the prepared pan.
3. Bake: in the preheated oven for 25-30 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out with a few moist crumbs.
4. Cool: Allow the brownies to cool completely in the pan before cutting them into squares.

Dosage and Consumption

• Dosage: The potency of your pot brownies depends on the strength of your cannabis and the amount used. Start with a small piece and wait at least 1-2 hours to gauge the effects before consuming more.
• Storage: Store pot brownies in an airtight container at room temperature for up to a week or in the refrigerator for longer shelf life.

Tips for a Perfect Batch

1. Consistent Mixing: Ensure all ingredients are well-mixed for even potency.
2. Temperature Control: Avoid high temperatures when making cannabutter to prevent degrading the THC.
3. Patience: Wait for the brownies to cool completely before cutting to prevent them from crumbling.

Enjoy your homemade pot brownies responsibly and remember to label them clearly to avoid accidental consumption. Happy baking!

Alright, buckle up because we're diving into why Vancouver's food scene is straight-up legendary. Forget the regular city vibes; Vancouver is a melting pot of flavors, a culinary carnival that beats anything else in North America. Join me on this personal quest to unravel why the combo of Asian influence, Pacific Northwest goodness, and chill dining vibes makes Vancouver the top pick for foodies.
Asian Culinary Delights: Tradition and Creativity Unleashed
Vancouver's streets resonate with the aromas of traditional Asian dishes, prepared with a touch of authenticity that transports you across borders. Picture slurping savory ramen in Chinatown or savoring hand-pulled noodles in a cozy corner of East Van. But what makes Vancouver's Asian food scene truly exceptional is its fusion of tradition with modern creativity.
In this city, innovation meets tradition on a plate. Take, for instance, squid ink brioche with sea urchin pâté – a daring yet harmonious blend of flavors that pushes the boundaries of culinary expectations. Vancouver's chefs are culinary artists, creating dishes that not only pay homage to traditional recipes but also elevate them into extraordinary, palate-pleasing experiences.
And let's not forget the matcha mochi croissants that have taken the city by storm. A fusion of Japanese mochi and French croissants, these delectable pastries are a testament to Vancouver's culinary diversity. Each bite is a dance of textures and tastes, showcasing the city's flair for seamlessly blending cultures and cuisines.
Pacific Northwest's Grocery List: Seafood Galore and More
Living next to the Pacific Ocean is like having a seafood aisle in your backyard. Fresh salmon, sweet Dungeness crab, and chubby spot prawns – Vancouver's seafood game is on point. And let's not forget the local veggies and meats, straight from the region's green landscapes. It's like nature’s way of saying, "Hey, enjoy the good stuff!"
Nature Vibes: Dining with a View
Vancouver's layout is like a dating app for food and nature; they're a match made in heaven. Whether you're brunching in a leafy neighborhood or devouring seafood with an ocean panorama, the city serves up an Instagrammable backdrop for every meal. Picture this: a patio, a breeze, and the scent of fir trees – eating out just got a whole lot cooler.
Neighborhood Chronicles: Culinary Adventures Off the Beaten Path
Downtown is cool, but venture out, and you'll hit foodie gold. Commercial Drive's eclectic spots or Richmond's legit Asian flavors – Vancouver's neighborhoods are like culinary treasure maps. Each area has its own flavor story, tempting you to be the food explorer you were born to be.
Conclusion
Vancouver isn't just a city with good food; it's a food fiesta waiting to happen. The Asian vibes, the Pacific Northwest's goodies, and the city's chill connection with nature make dining here a full-blown experience. Vancouver isn't just North America's food champion; it's a vibe, a journey through flavors, and a big, fat stamp on your foodie passport. So, next time you're craving a culinary adventure, Vancouver's got your back, fork, and knife.
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I Accepted a Job to Film on the Dark Web
Man, I am pumped to tell you chronically online content addicts my story. Wait is that too mean of an intro? Will this get taken down for harassment since I painted too accurate a picture of the people on this site? Sorry, everyone, I’m sure you all smell like an expensive bakery and have touched grass this morning. Anyway, I promise I have something interesting. It even involves the dark web you uncreative writers cream yourselves over! I mean, totally real people speaking about their strangely similar experiences. Okay, fine I’ll stop bullying you through the screen before you click off.
This all started when I was seven years old and my parents were killed in front of me in an anti-indigenous hate crime, but let's be real you don’t care. I’m just some annoying Cherokee kid with dead parents so I’ll skip to the good parts. I spent years in an orphanage, gradually becoming more interested in death and violence. As bad as it is, I went out of my way to expose myself to that content in the hopes of desensitizing myself. Which ended up working too well, since now I’m obsessed with causing and viewing pain, though I don’t find any joy in hurting myself.
I got adopted at twelve and after a few months of staying at my new family’s home on the reservation, I went with them to a state sweatier than the average Reddit user, California. Long story short, both of my caretakers, whom I referred to as Uncle and Auntie because they could never be my parents, died. Leaving me in the care of their older son, who I call cousin. I’m not stupid enough to give up any real names, so I’ll call him Brick, cause he’s as dumb as one. He was in his early 20s when he was tasked with taking care of me and is the world’s worst excuse for a babysitter.
I’m almost always alone at the apartment, with him only coming by to drop off supplies and stay for a few hours so the neighbors don’t get too worried. Unless I get in trouble at school, then he’d suddenly give a shit. It's useful because he doesn't about the gory stuff I look at, but some display of interest would be nice. Oh well, ninety percent of the population sucks so he’s just part of the majority. Now, with that said, you’ll be able to understand the perfect storm that led me here. During my time on the deep web, I found a particular website that caught my eye. They had new footage relatively consistently and they were the easiest for me to access since I didn't go too far into the dark web, especially with all the honey pots lying around.
I even bought a couple of files for myself to study and admire. One thing irritated me though, the cameraman. He was always sobbing, breathing, shaking, or some combination of those. It seriously killed the vibe of the killings. Something I commented on under many videos, often saying I would do a better job filming. A choice that in hindsight was me asking to end up in one of those recordings. I didn't think anything of it at the time. I was mostly the only one who commented but I was sure they wouldn't care. I was embarrassingly wrong.
I was staying up like usual, but it was past one AM on a school night, and back then that was a lot so I tried to sleep. Closing my eyes, tossing and turning, the works. I had just started drifting off when I heard the front door open. I remained calm but immediately found it weird since Brick never showed up this late. The thuds of the individual's feet grew louder as they got closer to my bedroom. I tried to convince myself it wasn't a stranger, especially since they got in with ease, but I knew that was wishful thinking.
They hummed as they opened my door. My dumbass had left it unlocked. I remained on my side, trying to look like I was asleep. They turned on the flashlight of their phone, shining it in my face. It was hard but I stayed still while they traced it over my features. I could tell they were smiling as they clicked their tongue.
“Heh, I knew it was a brat,” they whispered to themselves, pulling tangles out of my hair. Something I struggled not to groan from. They pulled up the hair over my ear and got so close spit got on my ear lobe.
“I know you’re awake kid,” they murmured, putting a blade to my neck. I let them grab my shoulder and move me onto my back, I knew how to fight but I wasn't about to take that big a risk with the position they had me in.
“You think you’re so cool saying you can do better than our guy.” they snickered, kneeling, their flashlight still shining in my face.
“Do you seriously believe that?” they questioned, moving the light away.
“Yeah, I do.” I stood my ground, they might have been intimidating but I wasn't gonna let that stop me from being honest.
“I wouldn't sound like I’m gonna piss myself every time it gets gory. I’m confident I could get better footage too, getting up close is something I’ve fantasized about.”
They clicked their tongue again and ran their finger over the bridge of my nose.
”Well, I know you’re a big fan of what we do, and you’re confidence makes me think you got something to back those claims up, so how’d you like a deal?”
I was surprised by how civil they were being aside from the touching and weapon against my throat.
“What kind of deal?” I asked, for all I knew this guy wanted me to lick their feet or some weird shit like that. They placed a finger underneath my eye, tracing a half moon with their nail.
“You have till this Friday to film a video of you killing an animal and put it on a flash drive that I’ll pick up here. If it impresses me and the crew we’ll hire ya with a handsome salary.” They began, moving their hand down to my cheek.
“But if you don't show, or it doesn't meet our standards, then I’m fucking up one of the parts of your face.” They warned, pinching my skin harshly.
“And if I say no to this deal?”
They put their hand over my mouth, scratching my lips.
“That’s cute, if you say no I’ll just slit your throat.” they grinned.
“Or rip it open with my teeth if you got a preference,” they smirked, before running their tongue across their sharp teeth.
“Okay, since I have no choice I’ll go with it, but I’m telling you now I can give you something way better than what you likely expect of me.” I prefaced, looking into their sunken eyes. They scratched my scalp, including the side of my head that was shaved.
“Good choice, I’ll be back to pick it up and if you're not here I’ll assume you don’t have the video. I genuinely wish you luck, because you’ll need it.” they removed the blade from my neck and walked away. I sat still for a few minutes in the dark, processing what had happened and wondering how they got into my apartment with such ease. I was confident I could blow their sniveling excuse of a cameraman out of the water, but I was worried about the people I was getting caught up with.
Sure, I had been on a lot of gore sites over the years but I was always just watching and occasionally commenting. Compared to most in the scene I wasn't much of a threat. I could defend myself and have contemplated killing for years but I hadn't murdered anyone or worse. Plus, I am part of way too many targeted groups to not be constantly at risk. Teenage, fem-leaning, two-spirit, indigenous kid with trauma? Yeah, I might as well be walking sign screaming “Hate crime me”.
So yeah, there was a lot to worry about. Regardless, I couldn't let that fear hold me back. I had a job to do and a group of sickos to appease. The next morning was rough, I got no sleep cause I’d spent all night brainstorming. I barely mustered the energy to change and drank straight mouthwash instead of brushing my teeth. Slogging onto the bus with drool on my cheek, I went to the back like usual. No one sat there cause, the seats were extra worn down, and I scared off anyone who attempted to with my active, rabies-infected bitch face. That day was different though.
I blanked on his name and where I knew him from, but I recognized his wavy hair and prominent curved nose. He glanced at each seat on the bus, before somehow settling on my area. He tried to give me space but ultimately seated himself beside me after realizing it was the only spot that didn't look like it would give him cancer. I glared at him as I did with everyone, but it didn't phase him.
“You know you could pick anywhere else right?” I murmured. He stared at the floor, then at me.
“I’m aware, but a few months ago I started a mission to sit on every part of this bus, and this is the last place.” he smiled, his lips softly curving at the sides.
“What’s the point of that?”
His mouth moved into a more neutral position, but his eyes kept smiling.
“I just thought it would be neat to see the same place from a bunch of different perspectives.” he took out his phone and snapped a photo from the point of view where he was sitting. Maybe my sleepiness made my bitch face less effective, cause he hadn't shown a hint of fear, which kind of annoyed me.
“That’s cool I guess, but I wouldn't do that if I were you. I’ve done some back here alone that would make your skin crawl.” in hindsight my attempt at unnerving him just made me sound like a pervert, which is probably why he held back laughter. Trying to hide a chuckle by clearing his throat.
“Hey, it's not my business what you do, no matter how Haram it is. It’s your life so that’s between you and whatever you believe in. Just don’t shake hands with me.” he joked, playfully putting his hands up. Strangely, I remembered his name at that moment.
“Oh shit, you’re Abdul! We have art together.” I sat up, haphazardly slamming my hand down on my leg.
“Uh yeah, I’ve seen some of your paintings, they’re pretty cool. I like the way you texture them, I’m trying to work on that.” he complimented, seeming more weirded out by my sudden energy than my accidental insinuation. I felt a little stupid for yelling his name but decided not to dwell on it.
“Thanks, you’re stuff is nice, and you’re good at shading.”
He stretched his arms while thanking me. We talked for a few more minutes, taking jabs at each other throughout. Turns out he was better at being an asshole than his artsy charismatic appearance made me think. The thing setting our insults apart being that you could tell he was a loving person underneath. It was the nicest conversation I had with anyone in a while. Though he could tell I was tired so he quieted down, letting me sleep, waking me when we got to school. We went our separate ways until the last two periods we shared. All that time, I spent my remaining energy plotting how I was going to handle the video. What I’d kill, record with, and how to dispose of the evidence. It was a lot to consider, but through three classes I devised a plan.
I’d find a stray around my apartment complex and take it out in my room. Record it on a portable camera since I broke the ones on my phone, no, I will not be answering how that happened. Then once I had my footage I’d put the body in a trash bag, throw it in the complex’s garbage, and clean the blood off my floor. It didn't seem like Brick would come by so he wasn't a factor I thought I’d have to consider. The plan was almost too easy, but I decided to believe in Occam’s razor. I got so lost in thought that by the time I reached Art, which was my second-to-last period, I didn't process that we were moving seats.
“She called your name,” Abdul reminded me. Our teacher placed us next to each other at our four-person table. The two girls sitting with us were already friends, so I didn't bother to say anything, but I was interested in talking to him more.
“So, what do you think of this assignment?” He shrugged, taking out his sketchbook.
“I’m not that good at drawing people, but the idea of combining two people’s faces into a portrait seems interesting. Any ideas on who you’ll pick?”
“Probably the members of the music duo Brain Tumor, they’re my favorite artists and they both look weird as hell.”
“Wow way to talk about your favorites, if that’s what you say about them I can‘t imagine what you have to say about me.” he joked, pulling up reference pictures.
“First, it’s not an insult, second I don’t have anything to say about you. Brain and Tumor have features and styles that make them stand out. Sure they’re ugly, but it just adds to their visual charm. Hot people are boring, there’s nothing to pick at.” I explained, unzipping my bag.
“Oh, so you’re saying you think I’m hot.”
His comment wasn’t serious but it kind of got to me.
“Shit, that’s not what I meant, I was trying to say you’re boring. All hot people are boring, but not all boring people are hot, okay?” I explained, flipping to a clean page.
“Alright, but if I’m so bland then why talk to me?”
I hesitated, contemplating how much of a dick I was gonna be.
“Because it means you probably need some spice in your life, which I can provide.”
He began sketching a head on his paper.
“I like spices, but I feel like you’re the kind of person to dump a cabinet’s worth onto me.”
I flicked my pencil over to his side of the desk, putting on a mocking grin.
“Aww, you scared I’m gonna get you into trouble?”
He picked up the pencil and started using it, putting his on my side.
“No, ‘cause I’m good at setting boundaries. I’m more concerned that you’ll get annoyed with how unafraid of you I am.”
I stared at him for a moment, I hadn't expected to hear that.
“Jeez, man you didn't have to read me like that.”
He shrugged, observing the red paint from past projects that lay on my pencil.
“It's not hard to figure out, just this morning you were trying to push me away on the bus. Lucky, or unlucky, for you I want you to have a friend and you seem like a fun person.”
“Wait are you saying I have no friends?” I squinted at him.
“Well, do you?”
I didn't answer.
“If your response is silence I suggest you take up my offer.”
I was stunned, to be honest. No one had offered to be my friend since 6th grade, and that didn't last long. Of course, I accepted it, but for the rest of the period, there was an awkwardness in my mind. As pathetic as it sounds I wasn't used to others genuinely enjoying my company like he did. Which was partly by design cause I get joy out of scaring people away, but still. I forgot how it felt to have conversations about normal things like art. He had such a nice smile too, usually when I see a grin I want to slap it off, but I liked his. His voice was also nice, it’s hard to describe what in particular but it was easy on the ears.
Okay, I’m starting to get off-topic. I’ll skip to the important part. Toward the end of class, he started talking about how he was interested in filmmaking and got a portable video camera as a gift at last year’s Eid. He didn't have it on him, but he showed me a picture.
“Heh, that’s funny, I bought the same one a month ago.” I pointed out.
“Yeah, it's a popular model, I’m still getting the hang of it though cause I’m so used to using my phone.”
“Well, maybe I could bring you over to my place or vice versa after school and I can help you out.” I suggested.
He smiled, putting his phone back in his pocket.
“I thought you said you’ve only had it for a month? You know I can always look up tutorials from trained professionals.” he reminded me with a notable smugness that I'd used with him before.
“Well those guys are stuffy and I’m a fast learner.”
He redirected his attention back to his page, picking his pencil up.
“Alright, I suggest we go somewhere public instead. You’re not exactly the kind of person I want to bring home to my parents right away. Plus they always need to meet my friends and their guardians before I hang out at their home.”
I gave an exaggerated sigh, stretching my back.
“Aw man, looks like we can’t get high in my murder pit during our first hangout.”
He didn't respond for a solid few seconds.
“Wait, you do know I'm joking right?”
He shrugged, the smile in his eyes appearing again.
“I mean, one of those things is a little less believable than the other.” he snickered, and I laughed with him.
We set up a time and a date, which is where I screwed myself. He ended up being busy with projects from his other classes and family which just left us with Friday, the same day I had to submit the video. Now, did I tell him I wouldn't be able to make it? No, of course not, because I decided to be stupid and even more overconfident. I said that I’d one hundred percent be able to hang out with him after school like I didn't have a mutilator who was going to drop by my place at an unknown time.
The rest of the day went over fine but that bad timing led me to feel like a dick later. When I got home I was able to write out my plan, even sketching a few specifics of what I’d do. It was more exciting than when I’d been brainstorming, but this is when the gravity of the situation began to set in. When I said I’d fantasized about killings I meant it. I mean my teddy with twenty-five stab wounds should say enough. Regardless this would be the first time real blood was on my hands.
It made me feel powerful, but a little afraid. I’ve heard stories of people thinking that it would be an awesome experience and then feeling like shit. I doubted I’d be one of those people but still. Plus, I didn't exactly trust the guy who gave me this job. There was a good chance that this whole situation was rigged and they’d kill me no matter how good the video was. Or worse turn me into the feds and expose my collection. Honestly, if that happened I’d probably eat a shot to avoid going to jail. Wait, can I say that on this platform? Okay to the mods, that was a joke, I want to live a long life. Ugh, I’m doing a terrible job of staying on track. The point is there was a lot up in the air despite it being a matter of life or death.
I knew I’d go through with it but it was still a lot less straightforward than it initially seemed. I wracked my brain to remember where most of the cats stayed and tried to come up with a good way to lure one without raising suspicion. This also proved harder than first thought because I didn't think to account for the cat man, an old guy who lived alone and fed all the cats in our dingy complex while also housing a few. Knowing how obsessive he was he’d probably notice if one of them disappeared. Then again not all the cats return consistently or at all. It makes more sense that he’d think one of them was run over rather than slaughtered. It was getting late again so I rested my head for a moment, a bad move cause I ended up falling asleep at my desk. Not even changing out of the clothes I’d worn before, I woke up late and barely caught the bus the next morning.
I went to my usual spot but Abdul had already taken it. He patted the area next to it, which he’d covered in a towel, a smart move knowing how nasty it was. People gave me a few dirty looks as normal, which I smiled at. I stretched, my mind slightly less out of it than the previous morning.
“Uh, you do realize that-”
“Yeah, I know I’m wearing the same clothes.”
Abdul looked me up and down, his eyes remaining soft, but with a mix of concern and judgment. He set his backpack down and took off his sweater handing it to me.
“Dude what are you-”
“Look I don't know what led to you not being able to change but I think you should at least have a fresh top.”
I was surprised he was offering me something to wear but I took it.
“Uh, thanks, I’ll change into it later.”
He nodded as I put it in my backpack.
“You know you didn't have to do that.” I reminded him.
“Well there’s a lot of stuff I don’t have to do, but I do it because I want to, and I wanted to help you out.”
He smiled, his face still warmer than an Arizona summer. I got a strange feeling in my chest at that moment, I still can’t tell if it was good or bad.
“Well, thanks, I'll give it back to you tomorrow.”
We talked a little more and he mentioned something that caught my attention.
“Have you heard about all the animals that have been turning up dead?”
My eyes widened with surprise.
“No, I haven't, when did you hear about that?”
He pulled on his long-sleeve shirt.
“My sister said her friend who works at a shelter noticed a bunch of animals were getting adopted by people around the same time, and since then gore videos with them have been showing up. She found out through her co-worker who was emailed it by some random creep.”
I covered my mouth and looked away to hide the smile growing on my face. He had just given me the perfect cover-up without knowing. Now if I killed an animal people had an entire violent ring to connect it to instead of me! I stayed quiet for a minute because I could tell he’d likely see through any phony sad sounds I made.
“Oh wow, that’s awful, do you think they’ll ever find out the people behind it?”
He sighed, running his hand through his wavy hair.
“I hope so, for now, all we can do is pray that no more animals get hurt.”
I couldn't contain my grin as he said that so sincerely like animals and people didn't die constantly and that taking down one group would somehow stop the issue.
“Is there some joke I don’t get?” he furrowed his brow.
“Uh, no, sorry I smile when nervous.”
His gaze softened again, and he didn't press further.
His bringing up the animal killings ended up being the exact push I needed to get my hands dirty. I’d spent the entire day before planning so it was time to put that plan into action. I stole some cat treats that the cat man had laid out and spread them around my apartment which was on the bottom floor. Waiting for one of them to take the bate outside my window was pretty boring but one of them came after a few minutes. A scraggly brown and black cat with a tuft of fur missing on one side of his head. It's messed up but I felt like a little less of an asshole for taking him in since he looked like he was already struggling. I scooped him up and he didn't attempt to fight back.
“Hey there buddy” I waved, feeding him some more food. His eyes had a lot of crust on them, it was kinda gross but I don’t have the right to say with how often I wash my jeans. After a minute or two he let me pet him. I knew making any kind of attachment was bad but I thought it was the right thing to do so he’d fall into a sense of security. I was just about to take him into my room when the door opened.
“Hey, I’m back with groceries!” my shithead cousin announced with two plastic bags in his hands. He looked down to see me with the cat, his eyebrows raising.
“Aw come on, you know we can’t afford a pet.”
He groaned placing the bags on a table and unloading them.
“I know, but he doesn't look like he’s got a lot of life in him I at least want to help him feel better before he kicks the bucket!”
Brick rolled his eyes, putting the cereal box on top of the fridge
“Jeez, did you even think about what diseases he might have? His eyes look puffy what if he has something that can get you sick?”
He had valid concerns which was surprising since he’s usually stupid, but I was still annoyed with him.
“I’m sure he’s fine, I’ll even try to wash him, just please let me hold onto him for a little.”
He folded his arms looking down at us.
“Have you even named him?”
I froze for a second, before using the first thing that came to mind, which ended up being pretty awful knowing my plans.
“Cash cow.” I blurted, awkwardly patting his head.
“Honestly that’s better than what I was expecting. I was sure you’d pick ‘Hellspawn Mcgee’ or something else corny.”
He meant to make fun of me but honestly, I would have named him that if I had more time.
“Ugh, anyway I got those dumb chips you like.”
He then pulled out a bag of the wrong chips.
“Dude those are the wrong ones, this is the third time you’ve mixed up the flavors.”
He threw them at me, scaring the cat slightly.
“Well, I pay for it so you shouldn't be so picky. Anyway, while I was in line I picked up something you might be into.”
He then tossed me a trashy teen magazine. One of my least favorite sorry excuses for an influencer on the cover.
“This is a joke, right?”
I couldn't believe my own adopted brother gave such little shit in my interests.
“I don't know, you decided to start being a girl for real this time so I thought the makeup tips on page ten would help you out.”
I scrunched my face at his comment.
“Dude I’ve been this way for years, just because I started wearing more makeup and dresses doesn't mean I’m more of a girl than when I didn't. I know you won’t get the two-spirit thing but come on.”
He shrugged, seeing me done with me even though he’d just shown up.
“Yeah well hey I’m trying. Anyway, just so you know a friend of mine is coming here Friday.”
My heart stopped.
“Wait why here? You live elsewhere why can’t you assholes go there or their place!”
He slammed his fist on the table.
“Will you shut the fuck up!”
He screamed with a phrase I’d grown numb to.
“I don't know, to be honest, something about wanting to move into this complex and this being a way to scout it out. I’m just letting you know now so you don’t act like a complete freak.”
“Jokes on you I’ll piss in whatever shitty beer you bring just cause you said that!”
I yelled back raising my voice higher than his. He face-palmed before putting the plastic bags in the drawer under the sink.
“Whatever, you and your ketamine-addict-looking cat have fun,” he told me while seating himself on the couch. I picked up the cat and walked into the bathroom to clean it. I closed the door and placed him in the dry tub. Using a small disposable mouthwash cup I got a little bit of water. I hadn't had a pet before so I wasn't sure how to approach the task. I dipped my fingers in the water and carefully pet it while pouring s small bit down his back. Any other cat would fight back but he just made pissed-off noises without doing anything.
I scrapped my old shampoo bottle and kneaded it into his thin fur. His skin was bumpy and dry beneath the hair so scrubbing it was uncomfortable. I made sure to avoid getting soap in its eyes but I did pull away some of the crust on its lids. His pupils were so clouded I was surprised that he could see at all, making me feel even more sure that he would be on its way out with or without me.
After drying him I set him on a beat-up shirt I wore when modifying clothes. He sunk his claws into it a few times, playing with a loose string. I ignored him for the rest of the night, hopping into the shower and changing for bed. His meows woke me up a few times but I tuned it out after a while, reminding myself that he wouldn’t be my cat for long.
The next day was Thursday and there wasn't a second that passed by where the weight of the murder I’d have to commit didn't weigh on me. I seriously shot myself in the foot by taking care of that scruffy, pubic hair pile. I was supposed to be hyped about killing it, after all, I’d dreamed and seen way worse than what I was going to do. Yet once I got home and started setting up I felt grosser with each step. I decided to record it in my bathroom instead of my bedroom so it would be harder to connect to me. I set down a few fabric scraps and a worn-out beach towel, placing it all inside a tub for easier cleanup later.
“Okay, I guess it's time,” I mumbled to myself. I brought the cat in and placed it down, setting up my camera once it was comfortable. I also wore my most generic clothes in addition to a mask, putting my hair in a bun for sanitation. When I saw the flicker of red showing that the camera was on I felt I was dreaming. I smiled, excited that I’d get to live out my violent desires. Yet, when I looked down at its pathetic frame and confused expression those urges left me.
I rationalized what I was doing, reminding myself how many animals die all the time and that I’d been forced into this, but it didn't help much in the end. I won’t get into it but under the pressure of impressing the group Cash Cow didn't go out as fast as I would have liked for a first task. Getting rid of the evidence was especially rough, the textures were pretty nasty, to put it mildly. It was surreal watching the blood go down the tub drain and gradually drip off my hands as I rinsed them. I couldn't conjure a single thought the entire time I cleaned it up.
Whether I was wringing out the clothes or putting the remains in plastic bags, it didn't matter. All I could focus on was the task at hand, with hints of disgust along the way. I ended up finishing at three AM. My hands were wrinkled and shook once I settled. I won’t deny that during the murder I didn't hate it. Slashing into something was fun and it made me feel strong. Still, it wasn't nearly as fulfilling as I expected it to be. Part of it was guilt, but it was mostly disappointment. I’d built it up for years and it wasn't earth shatteringly good or bad.
Overall, I expected to feel more, but it just left me hollow with an uncomfortable itch. There was no way I’d ever be able to see the tub the same way, hell I don’t think I’ll ever use it again. Luckily I almost always shower anyway so it's not too big of a deal. I watched a few horror game videos, trashed everything, changed and went to bed.
My scalp hurt like a bitch the morning since I kept my hair in that stupid bun. Despite getting less sleep than the past two days I held myself together a bit better in the morning. I brushed my teeth, changed, and had some fried bread before getting on the bus. Regardless I looked like complete shit and struggled to slump into my seat.
“Rough night?” Abdul asked
“Uh, yeah.” I quietly responded looking to the floor.
He frowned, looking at me with concern.
“You can talk about it if you're comfortable,” he assured me. I contemplated giving him a thinly veiled metaphor or vague explanation so he'd comfort me but stopped myself before my mouth could run a muck. He wouldn't be able to do much of anything and I don’t like opening up.
“Uhm, thanks but it's something I have to deal with alone.”
He nodded, respecting my boundaries.
“You know, I understand if you can’t hang out today it seems like you have a lot going on.”
I avoided eye contact with him as he spoke. For once I was feeling hints of guilt toward a person. I wanted to spend time with him, but I knew that I wasn't in the state to do that.
“Yeah, I think it’ll have to wait, I’m-” I cut myself off before apologizing. A fact about me that should surprise no one is that I hate apologizing. Even when I do feel kinda bad the act fills me with embarrassment.
“You what?” he asked, his eyes telling me that he knew what I was going to say.
“I’m emotionally not great.” I spat out in an admittedly poor attempt to get out of saying sorry. As always he remained calm but I could tell he saw through me.
“Okay, like I said I understand, whatever it is I hope you feel better.”
I told him thank you and we didn't speak for the rest of the day. At home I changed into more comfortable clothes and brushed my teeth. Unfortunately, I wasn't bouncing back from killing nearly as much as I expected.
“It wasn't even that bad! That thing was on its last legs anyway.” I grumbled to myself, smacking my forehead. I was feeling worse than when I did it which is weird. I ended up spontaneously decorating a ratty tie from the bottom of an accessory drawer to distract myself. It helped me get my mind off things, for a little. I had zero plan, just wanting to make something needlessly complex. Hours that felt like minutes passed and soon it was covered in patches, frills, and beads. I just tried it on when I heard the front door open.
“Man, that shit was wild!” I heard Brick laugh groggily. I didn't have to see or smell him to know he’d gotten lit. I rolled my eyes, closing my bedroom door.
“Hey, who’s there?” his friend asked, seemingly referring to me.
“Oh, that’s my little sis, don’t mind her she’s just on her emo shit!” he joked, which pissed me off for the petty reason that I didn't even listen or dress emo.
“Hey, that’s alright with me, I went through one of those phases,” they responded, their words less slurred than my cousin’s.
I fucked up and forgot to lock it when I closed it so they were able to swing it open, almost smacking my desk.
“Hey emo girl!” they waved as Brick haphazardly pulled them back.
“Okay, man, seriously I think she wants to be left alone.”
The way his friend looked at me made me uncomfortable. Like they’d snap my neck if I pissed them off. They clicked their tongue while stepping through the door frame.
“Alright, but I gotta say calling her an emo is inaccurate, they look like they watch gore and most emos just say they do.” they flashed a sharp toothy grin. At that moment I began to connect the dots.
“Easy, she’ll get pissy with you dude, now come on.” Brick warned tugging their opened button pushed him away. They looked me dead in the eyes.
“I don’t think she minds, in truth, I feel like we’ll have a lot to discuss later.” they smiled again, finally walking back into the living room. A chill ran up my spine when I saw them. The sharp teeth, New York accent, unsettling gaze, that motherfucker was the person who recruited me! They were able to get into my place so easily cause my dumbass cousin probably gave them a spare key or the opportunity to make one, and now they were a room away from me!
I dug my hands into my pillow as I contemplated what to do, no matter what happened next, I knew it was gonna be a rough visit.