Faraday Future Intelligent Electric Inc. (FFIE) has traversed a rigorous journey through substantial financial challenges, primarily manifested in its historical balance sheets. These challenges predominantly originated from significant investments in the design and engineering of its pioneering electric vehicle technology. Despite the financial strain these expenditures introduced, they were crucial foundational investments that established the groundwork for FFIE’s anticipated future growth. As the developmental phase reaches maturation, FFIE is strategically positioned to transition from intensive R&D spending to scaling operations and advancing toward commercial success.
Evaluating the Turnaround in Financial Health:

1. Improvements in Financial Metrics: • Reduction in Loss Magnitude: The company has shown a marked improvement in its financial health, with EPS improving significantly from -16.80 in Q4 2022 to -3.51 in Q4 2023. The annual EPS also improved from -393.56 in 2022 to -196.80 in 2023, indicating a substantial decrease in losses and suggesting that previous investments will begin to start yielding operational efficiencies. • Historical Investment Payoff: The substantial upfront investments are now transitioning to a stage where FFIE can potentially reap the benefits as it advances towards production scaling and market entry. 2. Institutional Confidence and Market Position: • Strategic Institutional Investments: Recent investments, including new positions by ExodusPoint Capital Management, LP (63,483 shares), Two Sigma Investments, LP (66,882 shares), and a significant increase by Vanguard Group Inc (227,910 shares), reflect rising confidence from major financial players. These movements underscore a bullish outlook on FFIE’s capability to successfully transition from development to commercial scalability. • Price to Book Value (0.0945): Currently trading significantly below its asset value, FFIE presents an attractive entry point for investors, suggesting that the market has yet to fully recognize the potential upside from past developmental expenditures. 3. Market Dynamics and Future Opportunities: • Electric Vehicle Market Potential: With the EV market expected to grow substantially, FFIE’s early investments in technology and infrastructure position it well to capitalize on this trend. • Gamma Squeeze Potential: The combination of high trading volumes, recent institutional buying, and the potential for increased options activity could lead to a gamma squeeze, potentially driving up the stock price rapidly as market sentiment improves. 

Specific Institutional Activities (April and May 2024):

1. April 2024 New Positions: • ExodusPoint Capital Management, LP: Opened a new position by purchasing 63,483 shares. • Two Sigma Investments, LP: Initiated a new position, acquiring 66,882 shares. 2. May 2024 Increased Position: • Vanguard Group Inc: Added 227,910 shares to their existing holdings, indicating a robust confidence in the future valuation of FFIE. 

Analysis of FFIE’s Current Market Position (Data as of Q1 2024):

1. Institutional Investor Activity: • Geode Capital Management, LLC: Increased their holdings by 157,436 shares, reflecting a significant commitment to FFIE. • Millennium Management LLC: Opened a new position with 185,198 shares, demonstrating a strong bullish signal from a major hedge fund. 2. Valuation Metrics and Market Activity: • The recent stock split (1:3 on March 1, 2024) aims to increase liquidity and possibly attract more retail investors, while a high beta (3.8628) and substantial average daily trading volume (328 million shares) underscore high market liquidity and investor interest. 

Additional Considerations:

• Market Sentiment and News: Positive developments in the electric vehicle market or specific favorable news related to FFIE could act as catalysts for rapid price appreciation. • Financial Health Indicators: Any improvement in the company’s debt levels and cash flow metrics could significantly alter market perceptions, further bolstering FFIE’s investment case. 

References:

• WhaleWisdom • Nasdaq Institutional Holdings • Fintel FFIE Ownership 

I (DX with ADHD treated with meds) need structure to manage my ADHD whilst my wife (not ADHD) is stifled by the needed rigidity. How do I bridge this gap?
Today, I had a significant conversation with my wife about our contrasting preferences for daily routines. As someone with ADHD, I rely heavily on a structured and disciplined schedule to build habits and maintain a balance between my professional duties, personal health, and family time. My wife, on the other hand, embraces a more whimsical and spontaneous approach to her day as a stay-at-home mom. This fundamental difference in our lifestyles often leads to challenges that disrupt my ability to function effectively and achieve my goals.
I expressed my concern about our lack of physical activity and its long-term implications. Without incorporating regular exercise into our lives, we risk serious health issues like sarcopenia. The data clearly shows that physical and mental health decline without consistent exercise. I emphasized the importance of doing it together, as when I try to work out alone, it often leads to conflict at home. My attempts to run every night were met with struggles, resulting in fights and stress that ultimately made me stop.
I tried to explain that my need for a rigid routine is not about being inflexible for the sake of it, but rather a necessity to form and maintain healthy habits. Any deviation from this structure throws me off completely, making it impossible to stick to a workout regimen or any other habit. My wife suggested I simply go work out while she handles bedtime, but past experiences have shown this approach doesn't work. Without a predictable schedule, things quickly fall apart, leading to chaos and tension.
We discussed the possibility of finding a way to establish a consistent routine that accommodates both our needs. Perhaps going to the gym as a family or hiring a nanny could be potential solutions. However, my wife admitted her dislike for a rigid schedule, which she finds stifling. This difference is taking a toll on me; without a structured routine, I feel paralyzed and unable to control or plan anything in my life. This affects my productivity, my relationship with our kids, and my overall well-being.
I stressed that my ADHD and demanding career necessitate a structured approach to daily life. Flexibility leads to disorder, making it impossible for me to evaluate progress or develop good habits. I want to be involved in bedtime routines, as it's a valuable time to connect with our children. However, when bedtime is dictated by how my wife feels in the moment, it creates unpredictability and disrupts my ability to engage meaningfully with our kids or fit in my workouts.
If we don't adhere to a consistent schedule, everyone loses. I miss out on time with the children, my wife ends up handling bedtime on her own, which she dislikes, and this breeds resentment and guilt. It seems like a fundamental difference we can't easily reconcile. My need for external structure clashes with her preference for spontaneity, and this affects our ability to find a workable compromise.
I also recognize that my wife's upbringing, influenced by her sedentary mother, shapes her current lifestyle. This may be a deeper issue that goes beyond our immediate ability to resolve. Nonetheless, I remain hopeful that we can find a middle ground that allows both of us to thrive and support each other in building healthier habits and a more harmonious family life.
Today, our conversation touched on another crucial aspect of our contrasting schedules—the impact on my ability to help around the house. My need for a rigid schedule isn't just about personal health or professional efficiency; it's also about being able to contribute effectively to our household. If we had a set routine—cleanup time at 6 PM, dinner at 7 PM, and lights out at 8 PM—I could plan my days accordingly, especially when I'm not on call. Such a structure would allow me to arrange my work schedule to ensure I can still work out daily and be present for our family duties.
Without a predictable schedule, dictated instead by the whims of how the day unfolds and how my wife feels, I find myself at a loss. The lack of structure makes it impossible to anticipate when chores need to be done, when it's time to prepare or eat dinner, or when the kids should go to bed. This chaotic approach means I never know when to allocate time for these essential tasks, resulting in a situation where I’m paralyzed by my own attempts to be flexible.
In practice, this means I miss out on opportunities to help with cleaning, cooking, and putting the kids to bed because there's no consistent timeframe to anchor these activities. If we established a fixed routine, I could reliably plan to be home and participate in these daily responsibilities. Instead, the unpredictability leads to a kind of paralysis where I'm constantly reacting rather than planning, unable to establish a rhythm that allows me to be both productive at work and supportive at home.
I need the certainty of a rigid schedule to balance my various roles effectively. Knowing exactly when cleanup, dinner, and bedtime are would enable me to integrate these activities into my daily life without the constant stress of adjusting to an ever-changing routine. This consistency is crucial not only for my mental and physical health but also for maintaining a harmonious household where I can actively contribute and support my wife and children.

I (DX with ADHD) need structure to manage my ADHD whilst my wife (not ADHD) is stifled by the needed rigidity. How do I bridge this gap?
Today, I had a significant conversation with my wife about our contrasting preferences for daily routines. As someone with ADHD, I rely heavily on a structured and disciplined schedule to build habits and maintain a balance between my professional duties, personal health, and family time. My wife, on the other hand, embraces a more whimsical and spontaneous approach to her day as a stay-at-home mom. This fundamental difference in our lifestyles often leads to challenges that disrupt my ability to function effectively and achieve my goals.
I expressed my concern about our lack of physical activity and its long-term implications. Without incorporating regular exercise into our lives, we risk serious health issues like sarcopenia. The data clearly shows that physical and mental health decline without consistent exercise. I emphasized the importance of doing it together, as when I try to work out alone, it often leads to conflict at home. My attempts to run every night were met with struggles, resulting in fights and stress that ultimately made me stop.
I tried to explain that my need for a rigid routine is not about being inflexible for the sake of it, but rather a necessity to form and maintain healthy habits. Any deviation from this structure throws me off completely, making it impossible to stick to a workout regimen or any other habit. My wife suggested I simply go work out while she handles bedtime, but past experiences have shown this approach doesn't work. Without a predictable schedule, things quickly fall apart, leading to chaos and tension.
We discussed the possibility of finding a way to establish a consistent routine that accommodates both our needs. Perhaps going to the gym as a family or hiring a nanny could be potential solutions. However, my wife admitted her dislike for a rigid schedule, which she finds stifling. This difference is taking a toll on me; without a structured routine, I feel paralyzed and unable to control or plan anything in my life. This affects my productivity, my relationship with our kids, and my overall well-being.
I stressed that my ADHD and demanding career necessitate a structured approach to daily life. Flexibility leads to disorder, making it impossible for me to evaluate progress or develop good habits. I want to be involved in bedtime routines, as it's a valuable time to connect with our children. However, when bedtime is dictated by how my wife feels in the moment, it creates unpredictability and disrupts my ability to engage meaningfully with our kids or fit in my workouts.
If we don't adhere to a consistent schedule, everyone loses. I miss out on time with the children, my wife ends up handling bedtime on her own, which she dislikes, and this breeds resentment and guilt. It seems like a fundamental difference we can't easily reconcile. My need for external structure clashes with her preference for spontaneity, and this affects our ability to find a workable compromise.
I also recognize that my wife's upbringing, influenced by her sedentary mother, shapes her current lifestyle. This may be a deeper issue that goes beyond our immediate ability to resolve. Nonetheless, I remain hopeful that we can find a middle ground that allows both of us to thrive and support each other in building healthier habits and a more harmonious family life.
Today, our conversation touched on another crucial aspect of our contrasting schedules—the impact on my ability to help around the house. My need for a rigid schedule isn't just about personal health or professional efficiency; it's also about being able to contribute effectively to our household. If we had a set routine—cleanup time at 6 PM, dinner at 7 PM, and lights out at 8 PM—I could plan my days accordingly, especially when I'm not on call. Such a structure would allow me to arrange my work schedule to ensure I can still work out daily and be present for our family duties.
Without a predictable schedule, dictated instead by the whims of how the day unfolds and how my wife feels, I find myself at a loss. The lack of structure makes it impossible to anticipate when chores need to be done, when it's time to prepare or eat dinner, or when the kids should go to bed. This chaotic approach means I never know when to allocate time for these essential tasks, resulting in a situation where I’m paralyzed by my own attempts to be flexible.
In practice, this means I miss out on opportunities to help with cleaning, cooking, and putting the kids to bed because there's no consistent timeframe to anchor these activities. If we established a fixed routine, I could reliably plan to be home and participate in these daily responsibilities. Instead, the unpredictability leads to a kind of paralysis where I'm constantly reacting rather than planning, unable to establish a rhythm that allows me to be both productive at work and supportive at home.
I need the certainty of a rigid schedule to balance my various roles effectively. Knowing exactly when cleanup, dinner, and bedtime are would enable me to integrate these activities into my daily life without the constant stress of adjusting to an ever-changing routine. This consistency is crucial not only for my mental and physical health but also for maintaining a harmonious household where I can actively contribute and support my wife and children.

So to start, my job is dead end and became the most miserable place I could ever imagine. I have worked my way up from this job since I was 16 in high school to now a 21 year old graduating next year. I work 40+ hours a week and do college classes online.
I’m graduating at a super low pace because I work while completing classes (9 credits a semester). My major is business and I currently work as a restaurant manager. My GM quit a few weeks ago and I’m left for the role, which I don’t want (for many, many, many reasons I won’t get into). I want to quit my job and find internships / expand my degree while working to make money and pay my bills. However I’m struggling to find good paying jobs (I currently make $20+ an hour with ZERO benefits). Also the fact that I’ve worked at this job for so long and only compared school to my current position, I know nothing else. I grew to hate and move on from the restaurant industry because I just feel much more worthy than that environment. I want internships and entry-level positions but it’s so difficult with little to no relevant experience, also living in the middle-of-nowhere Pennsylvania. All jobs I find online are based in Philly, Harrisburg, or somewhere hours away from my schooling. (I enrolled in local CC). For someone who wants to be free and have opportunity, I seemed to get comfortable at home. I live independently with my significant other and we both have similar paths in the same direction so I include him in my life plans because we both want the same things (he just graduated with the same degree I’m currently going for and he’s an entrepreneur with pending patents on a product he created - so I’m not worried about him) me on the other hand, I’m unsure of what I should be doing and how I should be networking? This is long and wordy but I truly feel a bit at a loss. I’m just so miserable being in my comfort zone and I don’t know where to jump? This sounds so typical for a college student to rant about, but thanks for reading!

Hi everyone! I have less than two weeks left before staging and then departure. As many of you have served or are in the process I’m sure you relate to having been preparing for months and researching your host country daily. I’ve been so excited about the prospect of serving for so long… and suddenly with days to spare the sadness and fear just hit me like a truck.
I’d definitely appreciate any advice or words of wisdom! My mom and my sister are my best friends and seeing how hard this is on them is truly devastating, despite that they’re so supportive of my decision to serve. I’m graduating in a couple of days and moving across the world so soon after makes all of the goodbyes with my friends so much sadder. Don’t get me wrong, I know PC is an incredible opportunity and I really think it’s the right move, but it’s like now that it’s so close, all of a sudden I am understanding the loss of two years away from my loved ones. I know that I’ll likely gain more than I’m giving up, but it sure as hell feels like I’m giving up a whole lot.

Not sure if this is allowed here, if not I apologize I'll accept the consequences. I was recommended this sub from another sub I frequent. Idk how to even start. I'm sorry I came to this sub with this. Life's been super impossibly rough lately. The past couple of years since COVID have been incredibly tough for me. I'm 29 years old turning 30 in a couple days, and have been taking care of my disabled father on my own since I was 11. I've been severely depressed for many years, which has caused me to lose all my relationships with friends and family. It seems like everyone I know or meet ends up distancing themselves from me due to my constant unintended negativity. Unfortunately, this only put me in a worse mental state, costing me multiple jobs and putting me in financial ruin.
I've tried so hard to take care of my sick father and do everything I can to live a normal life, but my mental health is terrible, and regrettably, it has completely ruined my life. I have no friends left, and my family relationships have soured as well. I blame myself entirely for being in this situation. To make matters worse, the one friend I had left, who had been my rock and my brother for over 15 years, passed away at the age of 30 about a month ago, leaving me utterly shattered. I fell into such a deep depression that I started experiencing stress-induced seizures and constant panic attacks, leading to the loss of my job. Now, I can't even afford to eat. For the past 2 weeks or so, my diet has consisted of nothing but water and sliced bread. I had to send my father to live with his sister in another state because I couldn't afford to care for him properly especially with my light being cut at the moment... I owe my aunt money for taking care of him, but I have zero dollars to my name, and currently have no way of making money. Only money I get is from donating plasma twice a week when able and even that's not nearly enough. Especially since I'm not always able to donate.
I've applied at every conceivable location in a 45-mile radius, hoping to get an email for an interview, but have had no luck at all. My phone has been disconnected, making it impossible to receive calls about potential job opportunities. I can't afford gas to travel to job locations even if I had a way to get there. I cannot walk to any of these locations, as where I live, the closest store or any type of place to work is over 10 miles away. Most employers also require online applications, which still necessitate a call back for an interview, a call I cannot receive. My electricity is currently cut off as well for the past 7-8 days in the Florida heat. Can't cook anything even if I had it because no power. Can't spend money I don't have to buy anything to eat. Had to toss the food that was in the fridge/freezer. At this point, I don't know what else to do. The bit of money I have I need to save because I need this light turned on before anything and I'm almost there. Been needing just $100 more but I haven't been able to get it since last week and unfortunately got differed from plasma donations and can't get that money either.
I've reached out to family, but they have all turned me away. I have no friends to ask for help. No bank is willing to give me a loan, and even Amscot has declined due to my lack of employment. I've been trying so hard in life. Just for it to beat the shit out of me at every chance. I'm just beyond my breaking point and have absolutely no one to talk to or speak to about anything. Sorry again delete if not allowed. Thank you to anyone for taking the time to read my message. I hope you have a pleasant day or night. Ps. Felt that I should add in I will never ever ever even think about making myself take a permanent nap. I'm not that. Just needee to vent and talk somewhere I felt safe. Also before anyone says "how are you on Reddit without a phone and electricity". Charge my phone in the car and my elderly neighbors let me connect to their Wi-Fi since they don't even really use it often.

Perhaps this ought to start before the end of May.
An action on everyone's part to refuse making any Loblaws owned store a one-stop go-to for our grocery needs, but using it to target only sales. And not the "sales" that mark off something expensive, that's still expensive after the "sale", but the deep sales, that are designed to lure people in.
Point in case: butter at 4.99 and water melon at 2.99. Those sales are apparently happening right now. They're designed to get you to come with a shopping cart, and they're hoping that you might as well load up with various other items. A water melon in particular, is heavy, and most people will need a cart for that. Those guys know that possibly selling water melon at a loss, they will make up for it, by pushing other heavily marked up item to us suckers.
Resist!
Don't be tempted to buy other items. Just go in, and get only sales where you'd really say: that is a true sale. Resist any fake "sales", quote quote.
This accomplishes multiple goals:

1. We show that we continue to refuse to accept unreasonably marked up items.
2. We deprive them of profits through rip offs.
3. We benefit from deep sales, that are possibly sold at a loss.
4. They lose money when we stubbornly only get deep sales.
5. Other stores see that we're willing to shop around, enticing them to play nice so that they gain our business.

Will Loblaws smarten up?
Most probably not right away. Once a business becomes accustomed to certain profit levels, they have a responsibility to their investors to meet (ever greater) expectations. That, plus the greed of the ones running the show. They can probably cover up reduced sales by shoving things around, but they can't hide it forever. They need to be forced to alter their business model. And investors will need to come to the realization that it can't be a forever growth model. The Ponzi scheme can't continue to work, but that's another whole topic.
In the meantime, our job should be simple. Simply refuse to give in. Shop elsewhere. But go in to grab the deep sales. We need to talk about how we can keep up to date with those deep sales, and I guess we can call it that, and it might be dependent on location. Areas where there are enough people with high disposable income that don't care, might not see those deep sales. They'll just tease them with fake "sales". Areas where people have less alternatives will probably be disappointed also.
It's going to require a bit of effort. We need to resist saying to ourselves "oh, I have kids and don't have a the time to go to two stores". Make it work. Realize that when done efficiently, it will not take twice as long to shop. It's worth saving money. Plus it's the right thing to do, because you'd be part of a movement that can help everyone see competition restored. It's like fighting for and protecting democracy, in comparison. You might only save a little for your particular pocket book, but there are those that benefit far more. It feels good to fight for all of us the people. Also resist other excuses and cop-outs. "Oh, but it takes gas". Calculate it. It might take you $2 more in gas to do two locations instead of one. $2 is easy to overcome. Don't be that automatic naysayer, that person that opposes automatically out of reaction. Many people do that habitually. Stop! Help the cause, not work against it! Be part of the solution!
Ok, so what flyers, what apps, what posts could we all look at, to help us all home in on those deep sales. And share how much you probably have saved by doing the Loblaws-for-a-quick-deep-sale-grabbing and then heading over to a proper grocery store. When you go into a Loblaws to grab what you need, while you walk to the target, you can see a few prices looking left and right. Make mental note of that. Making up some numbers here: Bananas 89 cents, apples $5, etc etc. Then proper store, 69 cents, $3. Some might feel that, "meh, 2 bucks, 20 cents, who cars". But if every item is like that, it adds up. A $300 grocery bill becomes a $450 grocery bill. And that is what this entire thing is all about ! It takes work to make competition work. Without that work, they will exploit us, and they have!

Just a vent but looking for advice.
I (35M) and wife (34F) - we have a 17 month old son. We both have full time careers. Wife works from home, I have a blue collar career with a rotating schedule. My wife works 4 11 hour days a week. She has weekends off, and gets 1 off day during the week that she usually gets to choose, which we will try to schedule for when I work a day tour. Sometimes my days are on the weekend so we are covered, but sometimes my 2 days are during the week. I also work nights, but we are able to get by for that.
I make good money, my job has OT opportunities, and I have a side hustle, so I make enough money to support us. I like having our 2 incomes, but we can get by with just me working. My job is a set rotation schedule so I can't change the hours. I can swap with other co workers but that's not always a guarantee because I need to find someone to swap with that week where it works for them too.
Child care issues / options:
Family - my inlaws are OUT!!! They are no good to me, and my MIL has 5 other grandkids with bad parents that need her more, they barely can get by with both parents working and they need her more than we do, and she prioritizes them. So even if I wanted my MIL to help, she couldn't.
My parents live 2 minutes away, but now they are looking to move away. This week, we needed child care 1 day, and my father told me they can't committ because he needs to wait to see when realtor can show him more properties. This really annoyed me and I was in a scramble trying to swap my day with xo workers. Im not trying to stop my parents from moving, just annoyed my father couldn't give me 1 day, then when realtor does call he simply tells realtor "I'm watching my grandson Tuesday, but I'm available all other 6 days to look at homes".
Day Care - day care is $1550 minimum a month for son to go there the 2 days. This is out. I'm not ready to drop my son off anywhere / he isn't. And for that price, my wife should just not work because that's a good chunk of her salary. Yes I would be paying for that too, but my point is we would be better off just son staying home, wife not working and me working extra to make up the loss of her wages.
Wife's job - I keep asking my wife to talk to her manager and let her manager know what is going on, and for some reason my wife isn't doing this. Her manager already said she can't work part time at her position. But her company has other positions .. so I want to know can they offer her another job title that is part time, can my wife work Saturdays sometimes so when I'm off a weekend she can take 2 days off during week but work on weekend..
My wife wants to work, and doesn't want to quit her job. So that's why single working parent isn't the answer now.
We are trying to hire a baby sitter. But that is just not easy. No one wants to work these days and it's hard for me to trust someone too.
I'm frustrated that I'm worried but my wife doesn't seem worried. She thinks my parents aren't really going to move (even though they have an offer on their home) and I don't know if she fully understands how annoying it is for me when my dad has to out entire week on hold because he is waiting for a realtor to call him. My dad is a good person but has OCD ways where he just has to make everything 10x harder than it has to be and I'm just done and don't want to deal with this behavior anymore.
I'm communicating with people trying to hire a baby sitter. But I just don't know what to do.

Hey everyone, this will be my first attempt at a serious post on this sub. I’m not exactly practiced in articulating my thoughts (I’m more of a fiction writer) so please bear bull with any mistakes and please correct me if I’m wrong. The last thing I want to do is spread misinformation, I’m not an expert (or a financial advisor) on any of this. I'm here to learn, not to teach.
This post will be the first in a series of me reading through the entire Diamond Handbook (2nd) and just commentating on points I find interesting or discussion worthy. I will be asking questions as well as giving my own personal thoughts based on my understanding of the events that have transpired. I became an ape right after the sneeze, and followed a lot of the discussions back then, but have been zen for a while so I haven't fully kept up with a lot of the new developments.
I haven't actually sat down and read DD in a long time, so I decided to give myself a refresher and actually look at the Diamond Handbook (2nd) for the first time. I had read a lot of these posts as they had come out, so I had never felt the need to look at the full PDF before. For the apes that haven’t read it either, I recommend giving it a read. You can find the full DD library in the pinned post of this sub, and the Diamond Handbook is the first one there.
As I have been reading it, I’ve quickly realized that some of the stuff is a little outdated. That can’t really be helped since so much DD has been done between then and now, but this brings me to the two reasons for this post. The Diamond Handbook is likely the first piece of DD a new ape will be recommended; I want to spark discussion to clear up some things that are misguided or outdated in this handbook. The second reason is more of a personal challenge. Whenever someone denies the legitimacy of the DD, an ape usually responds by saying something like “Well, read the DD and prove it wrong”. The average MOASS denier won’t do this though, in my experience they just think it’s ridiculous on a conceptual level, and won’t take the time to actually look through all the DD available and construct a proper debate. I can’t really blame them for this though, spending so much time on something you have no interest in doesn’t sound like a fun time.
But I have a lot of interest in this, and I am an aspiring author who writes 400K word fanfictions for fun. I’ve got the time and the writing willpower. I am very big into trying to understand how a reader will interpret a piece of my writing, so I’ll be looking through that lens and will be writing this with the assumption that you have already read the Diamond Handbook (2nd). Please take the time to respond/correct what I say here, I want to learn.
With all that out of the way, let’s get started.
​
The Mother of All Short Squeezes (MOASS) Thesis, Published on May 26, 2021, by u(slash)HCMF_MACEFACE
Before we even get into the meat of this section I already see a bit of an issue. A lot of the language implies that MOASS is imminent, take this section for example:

*“If you don't believe me, just look at the chart of GME which our DD (Due Diligence/research/analysis) has been forecasting for a while now. The below pattern has only preceded massive spikes in price, but this time, those on the other side of the trade are going to have a much harder time suppressing the price like they did in January and March. Thanks to the activity on 5/25, we have entered the end-game. The MOASS is beginning.”* 

I think most new apes will look at this, then look at the date of posting (three years ago), and think this is delusional thinking. They will say that MOASS did not ‘begin’ because it hasn’t happened yet. This would be pretty short sighted though, GME has always been a Deep Value investment, long positions are called long for a reason. ‘Buy and HODL’ is such a repeated mantra because that is the investment strategy most apes employ. Like most investments, it takes a long time to realize gains. Your retirement account will be growing for 40+ years before you cash that thing out, GME is my retirement plan so I don’t expect it to be much different.
Just because the sneeze happened in a week doesn’t mean MOASS will, in theory it should be a very long event as both the shorts and longs have a test of wills to see who caves first. However, the sneeze was the ‘beginning’ because it was exposed a lot of the fuckery that is going on in the market right now, I think that is the message that should be taken from this section.

*“These terms are key to understanding the theory and speculated value of a GME investment. Hyperlinks to Investopedia, "the world's leading source of financial content on the web", have been included for most market terms and concepts and it is recommended to check them out if they are not clear. We will be breaking down some of the more complex terms and concepts within the post and framing them within the context of GME.”* 

After the introduction, this post does a great job of explaining all the concepts of the stock market that are relevant to the MOASS thesis. However, I do wish it mentioned some other stock terms for the sake of new investors. Since none of the DD is supposed to be financial advice, I can’t really blame them for these omissions, but at the beginning the OP does say they wanted the post to be good for newer investors, so I think some more pointing in the right direction should’ve been provided. I do appreciate the link to Investopedia, but this DD is already a novel, and the average reader might forget about that link by the time they finish it. So an additional link should’ve been provided at the end.
The two big concepts I see missing are Options and Wash Sales/Stop-Losses.
Options are interesting because they create a different type of buying/selling pressure compared to just buying/selling stocks regularly. There are concepts like gamma ramps and stuff that can be relevant when discussing catalysts for price movement. However, options are pretty scary for most investors, I’ve only ever bought one, and forgot about it so it auto-exercised for me (lol), so it’s not a concept I would call essential. I just think it’s better to be educated than not.
The much more egregious omission is that of Wash Sales and Stop-Losses. Wash Sales are extremely dangerous to new investors who still make decisions based on emotions and are not used to the volatility that comes with GME.
If you are unfamiliar, a Wash Sale is when a person sells a stock at a loss, then buys the stock again within a short period of time. As an example, let’s say you bought a stock at $50, then the stock goes down to $40.00 and you no longer feel comfortable with your investment. You sell the stock at a loss. You lost $10.00 on this transaction, but it’s not all bad. When you go to do your taxes, you can report this $10.00 loss to the IRS. This is good because if you make a $10.00 profit off another trade, you now don’t have to take taxes out of that profit, since the IRS will see this as you breaking even in the grand scheme of your portfolio. You didn’t actually make any money, so they aren’t going to tax you for it.
A Wash Sale is triggered when you buy back the stock you sold in a short period of time, this can even apply if you buy a stock in the same sector. So if you buy a stock at $50.00, sell it at $40.00 then buy it again. That $10.00 loss you took can no longer be reported to the IRS as an actual loss. So when you make $10.00 on some other trade, the IRS won’t see you as breaking even, they will tax you on that $10.00.
For a stock as volatile as GME this can be very dangerous, I know people who brought in the peak, then as the price went back down they triggered a Stop-Loss (auto-sale you can program to trigger when a price falls), only to then buy back in when the stock dropped even lower, creating a wash sale that fucked their taxes.
We say “Buy and HODL” a lot, but I think the ‘why’ of it has been lost in the meme. I personally buy and HODL because averaging down is a lot better for me than accidently triggering a Wash Sale. I fucking hate the IRS and don’t want any of that smoke.

*“SPOILER: GME and \[Popcorn\] have tons of FTDs reported.”* 

I just kinda don’t like the mention of the Popcorn stock here, it has never been a deep value investment. If you are unfamiliar with the Deep Value investment strategy, please take a look at the old Roaring Kitty livestreams. In summary, Deep Value investing is defined by looking for stocks that are extremely undervalued and unpopular due to no fault of the company. These external factors that are making the stock undervalued can be anything, shorting, COVID, stuff like that. But what makes it a Deep Value investment is always strong management within the company. If the company is not mismanaged in any way, then it is very unlikely to go bankrupt, and will have opportunities to make a comeback. GME has Ryan Cohen leading, a proven successful businessman that has already taken precautions to ensure GameStop never goes bankrupt. Popcorn just doesn’t have that. It is very short-squeezable, but it’s not deep fucking value.

*“Short sellers must eventually close, or cover, their short position.”* 

Ok, but why ‘must’ they? This is another point I think has been lost in the memes. There are two problems with just saying ‘shorts must close’ without providing context. The first is the simple fact that there isn’t a due date. Unlike a common car loan or mortgage, a short position doesn’t operate on a time table. They can wait forever to close, unless they get margin called.
This next part I’m a little shaky on, I’m probably getting some things wrong here:
Ok, well how are they going to get margin called? The problem I see is that these Short Hedge Funds (SHF) are making a lot of money by selling naked shorts. It’s really hard to get margin called when they are literally printing money, and since they don’t have to report these their books just look to be filled with an infinite amount of cash.
So, there are a couple solutions to this:
1, Government regulation. If the SEC puts a stop to naked shorting, these SHF can’t print money anymore. Eventually the interest from their positions will eat them alive, and they will get margin called. Unfortunately, MOASS has the potential to destroy the economy like in 2008, so they probably aren’t too keen on just doing this without creating some kind of safety net. So I can’t really count on them to help, because the government has a vested interest in keeping MOASS from happening. It’s just not something I believe will be the catalyst. Although they might just do it on purpose given the right reason, like pinning the economic collapse on a scapegoat, or by GameStop forcing their hand by exposing the fraud somehow. I’ve seen a lot of apes hoping for one of these reasons to come to pass, but for me, I don’t see enough motivation from the participating parties.
2, A price run-up. If the price of the stock can unbalance the books of the SHF enough then they could also get margin called. I’m not counting on this either, since the price is manipulated by the process of naked shorting. Sure, they are digging a bigger grave when they suppress the price like this, but it can also help smaller SHFs with exiting their positions with OTC stuff. Over-The-Counter trades are trades made off the lit exchanges, historically it was intended to kind of simulate a transaction between two individuals, like buying a video game from a buddy off the books, no taxes, no regulation. Unfortunately, this is abused by institutions and can’t even be used by individuals, making dark pools of trades full of fraud and undermines the free market. Smaller SHFs that are more at risk of getting Margin Called due to their lack of collateral, can make OTC trades with the big naked-shorting market makers to ‘close’ their positions using fake shares. Of course, this only passes the buck so to speak, but it’s a viable strategy for them since the big SHFs that take on these ‘bucks’ are less likely to get margin called. A lot of historic short squeezes happen because a small SHF gets margin called, then drives the price up and causes a bigger SHF to get called, and so on until they’re all in the grave. This is why I don’t really give a shit if the price goes up to $80 in a week, it’s not enough, the buck has been passed. (To be clear, I don’t have proof that this is the reason for the uptick in OTC transactions, it’s just a theory. If a smarter ape than I can get on this that would be great.) But, even if a price run-up itself doesn’t cause MOASS, it may give motivation for the true trigger:
3, Interest Rates. Here is the big one that I look at, that I believe will be the true cause of MOASS. Now please, correct me if I’m wrong again, I am just an ape who dropped out of college. So, from what I understand a Short institution has to pay a certain amount of interest to the people they borrow the stocks from. This is the cost of borrowing and is how these Lenders make money. For a long time, the interest rate was at like 1%, this means that selling one naked short could cover the cost of the interest 100 times over. However, let’s say that the interest rate becomes 110%, sounds crazy, but this would mean that borrowing the share would cost more than the share. This would destroy the balances of the SHFs and ensure they get margin called. Why would this ever happen though? Because these lenders want to make money. These lenders are the real winners of MOASS, and they aren’t talked about enough in my opinion. Lenders can’t sell the shares they’ve lent out, their income is in the interest rates, there has to be a balance here between it being more profitable to lend the shares or to sell them. If Lenders start to think that lending their shares aren’t making them more money than the alternative, they will raise interest rates to make these profits until SHFs can’t pay them, then the SHFs have to return the shares, causing MOASS with the massive buyback, then lenders can just sell the shares on the way down. Lenders have a monetary business interest in causing MOASS, so they are the most likely cause of it in my opinion.

*“This is the GME MOASS thesis. GME is a stock that stands to hit an unprecedented price point due to the fact that manipulators of the market have failed to bankrupt GameStop thanks in huge part to the Legendary Keith Gill AKA* u(slash)DeepFuckingValue*, Ryan Cohen, and all of the GME investors who took part in this saga. It may not be today, this week, or even this month, but one day soon, these toxic participants have no choice but to buy the stock to close out their short positions.”* 

I don’t think this is necessarily inaccurate, but I think it’s misguided, and the language here is a bit to emotive for my taste. I think the reason the company didn’t go bankrupt is because of the strategic share offering made by Ryan Cohen to build up more cash than the company’s valuation (at the time). All the other stuff was just dressing, DFV and retail did not make RC do this, this move by RC is what ensured the company literally can’t go bankrupt, until then (and at the time this was posted) it was still a risk in my opinion. So this huge thanks feels kinda like a pre-cum celebration, and I've never really liked putting Keith on a pedestal, he's just an individual investor, just like the rest of us.
​
FAQ, Published April 12, 2021, by u(slash)BYE_TRIANGLE

*“Why does Holding do anything?”* *“They need your shares to cover their short positions! They got greedy. Thinking GameStop would fail, the short sellers started Naked Shorting the stock. Long story short they created synthetic stocks with their special privileges as Market Makers. But they can’t cover a short with a synthetic share. So because of the Naked Shorting, the Short Sellers, multiple large greedy money managers, and Hedge Funds need a total number of shares greater than the number available to purchase. THEY NEED EVERY SHARE, EVEN YOURS CONAN!”* *“aRe YoU GuYs MaNipuLatIng THe MaRKeT?!”* 

Holding does something else that I think is really important. It proves that retail is not responsible for the manipulation of the price. You see it in the mainstream media every time the price fluctuates, they say that retail and Roaring Kitty is driving the price up for the memes, and that the ‘meme stock craze is dead’ whenever the price falls, claiming that retail is selling. However, it quickly becomes clear to anyone with the willingness to research that retail holds. Holding doesn’t move the price at all, so they literally can’t blame this sub for the fuckery that happens.
Now, on the flip side, I know people on the old sub to buy and sell with these fluctuations, they did it during the sneeze and I’ve seen comments claiming to do it last week. I think this is why Roaring Kitty really had to speak to congress about this, because a legitimate-seeming argument could be made that retail was buying and selling at high volumes. The loss and gain porn on the old sub could be presented as evidence. Here though, apes hold, we glaze purple doughnuts.
So when MOASS does happen, the massive price increase will be only due to buying pressure from SHFs, so they are the only ones that can take the blame for what happens next.

*“No one knows how high the squeeze could take the stock price. The best rational reasoning says that these numbers \[500k per share\] are possible through the laws of supply and demand. Furthermore, it is likely that the Short Percentage is a lot higher than reported, with many suggesting that the short-sellers, cumulatively, need more than 100% of the float to cover.”* 

A lot of naysayers will claim people are insane for thinking that phone number prices are possible. They will cite that it would make the company’s valuation higher than the amount of money in the world, which is true. However, with the nature of fraudulent naked shorts being fake, the price is fake too, and the valuation of the company doesn’t necessarily mean that the whole float will be sold at those prices. Yes, it shouldn’t be possible, by all accounts it wouldn’t make sense, but it is possible due to the naked shorting. Also, institutions that own shares likely won’t HODL out for the phone number prices, they will sell when they think it’s safe, and when they won’t get in trouble with the SEC for destroying the economy. The infinity pool (the shares that will be sold at these prices) will be a small fraction of the total amount even among retail investors. So the argument that I see against the possibility of this doesn’t hold a lot of weight.
Keep in mind that even though ‘buying pressure’ moves the price up, someone has to be willing to sell in order for someone to buy. So as the price creeps up from $100 to $1000 to $100000 to $8675309 someone will be selling on the way up to get there.

*“Synthetic long positions could be used to disguise their short positions as well, the mechanisms behind this practice utilize the options markets and could explain some of the crazy options activity that we have seen in GameStop the last few months.”* 

So uhm… I don’t understand ‘Synthetic Longs’ at all. Could an ape with more wrinkles elaborate on this? From what I can extrapolate, this may refer to an institution purchasing a naked shorted share from someone else?

*“While at the same time they employed the use of social engineering to slowly depress the positive sentiment for the stock on Reddit and elsewhere.”* *“You may have been called a Shill for one of a number of reasons. This community is very inclusive and open to everyone, but because of the blatant attacks this forum has suffered a lot of people are understandably paranoid. (Myself included). Please, unless you really are a shill, don’t take it personally.”* 

I want to address this, because there is a lot of misconception about SuperStonk. A lot of people will claim that this sub is just an echo chamber cult that can’t handle anyone questioning the narrative. This may seem true on the surface, but I think the reality is just that we’ve become hyper sensitive to the social engineering the old sub fell victim to, and I remember this sub being attacked with that as well. So whenever we see a post that has extremely emotive language, we become skeptical and down vote it. Emotions have no place in investing, that is a common rule touted in even the oldest investing books, so posts that try to incite an emotional response are shot down. Apes aren’t about to be manipulated again. That being said there are emotive posts that still get upvoted, ones with positive hype-filled narratives. Since these get upvoted and the negative ones don’t that sometimes gives the impression of an echo chamber. This is because the facts do support the MOASS thesis, so a hype title and opening paragraph is just more agreeable with the facts-based narrative. Some people are just scrolling on their phone and don’t have time to read the whole post.
However, if you go into the comments of these posts, there are apes investigating the profile history to determine if posters are bots, regardless of the pushed narrative. If you look past the upvote counter, apes are very skeptical of any post that isn’t based in fact or harmless memes. The comments rule the post, and I have to say I’ve very proud of this sub for staying vigilant in the wake of Reddit restricting moderation tools.

*“Ryan Cohen clearly believes in Gamestop, to the point of announcing that he will be taking equity as compensation. In fact, as of writing this all of the new Gamestop board members are going to be taking equity as compensation. This is seen as an incredibly bullish sign of the company's future success.”* 

This is one of the principles of Deep Value investing, I wish this was elaborated on more of why this is bullish. This means that the board, and more importantly Ryan Cohen, is tying their individual self-worth to the company. Due to this tie, they will essentially ‘go down with the ship’ if the company goes down. This means that the board and Ryan actually have an interest in the company doing well, instead of having an interest in making money off the company. You may think this sounds like the same thing, but it’s not. If RC cared more about money than the company, then he could destroy the company to make money (this is what’s happening to popcorn), but by tying his worth to the shares, the only way for him to become richer is for the company to flourish.
I don’t really like the language being used here, stuff like ‘clearly believes’ ‘seen as incredibly bullish’ are all pretty emotive and doesn’t actually explain why these are positive growth signs for the company, they are just saying it is ‘bullish’, the average new investor isn’t even going to know what that really means. Even though GME is extremely manipulated, causing Technical Analysis to become increasingly difficult to depend on, the investment is still rooted in fundamentals of deep value.

*“Below is a shortlist of some of the potential catalysts people are speculating about:* 

-A Stock Split, or some similar move from Gamestop that recalls shares
-Gamma Squeeze
-Gamestop’s Q1 Earnings Call
-Some speculate Gary Gensler (Newly appointed head of the SEC), may make some move that sets things in motion
-DTCC rule changes taking effect
-Appointment of a new CEO”
Yeah… this feels bad man. I’ve talked about this already, but we can rapid fire down this list.
The stock split didn’t work out, since those in charge of distributing the splits did it fraudulently. Gamma Squeeze is the kind of thing that could trigger a smaller hedge fund to get margin called and cause a domino effect, but I’ve shared my theory of the OTC action. Earnings are nice, but public sentiment has always been more tied to the media manipulation than actual facts. Fucking Gary.
On the subject of bringing in new talent, I do feel like a big move will happen soon. We’ve already seen a lot of job offerings from the Corporate side of GameStop so this could be the next phase of the plan. I really think that RC has spent these last few years taking precautions to make sure the company can’t go bankrupt, the last thing he wants is to turn out like Toys-R-Us. A lot of downsizing happened, so now he can start thinking about upsizing again.
I’m not necessarily saying that these things can’t trigger the squeeze, but I am saying that depending on something to start it is just inviting disappointment. I think the ‘no dates’ rule has been sorely forgotten lately with all the hype and speculation around Roaring Kitty’s tweets and stuff. I am a zen ape, it happens when it happens.

*“First of all, it is incredibly important to note your potential biases when determining if someone is just a shill trying to spread FUD. Not all FUD is invalid, someone may bring up a solid point against an otherwise great DD, and that could scare you. Remember that just because you do not like what someone is saying, doesn’t make it invalid. It is important users here work with constructive criticism to refine their theories.”* 

Damn, wasn’t I just talking about this? This critique isn’t going to just be wagging fingers, this is really good stuff that still applies today, and from what I’ve seen apes are doing a great job of distinguishing between FUD and legitimate criticism. I also want to take a second to thank the mod team, especially after their tools were restricted, they’ve been a great help.

*“…but since then retail investors have been buying on every single dip in the price… That's more than two whole months of buying-the-dip. Now, I will not speculate on numbers here, if you want to know more you will have to read the DDs on that.”* 

This is pretty outdated now. Apes have been buying for three years now, and with the advent of Direct Registering we have a much better idea of how much apes hold. I can say with confidence now that retail owns a floats worth of shares. Since there is so much naked shorting, a lot of institutions probably own their own floats too.
I glaze those purple doughnuts, yum.
​
Citadel Has No Clothes, Published March 14, 2021, by u(slash)ATOBITT
Ohhhh, this one is special to me, I read it when it first came out, first time I was there on release night. Let’s see how it hodls up.

*“TL;DR - Citadel Securities has been fined 58 times for violating FINRA, REGSHO & SEC regulations. Several instances are documented as 'willful' naked shorting. In Dec 2020 they reported an increase in their short position of 127.57% YOY, and I'm calling bullsh\*t on their shenanigans.”* 

58 times. I don’t actually know how much that number has gone up, but I’m sure it has. I am reminded of an old saying, that if the punishment for a crime is a fine, then it only a crime for the poor. The crime being done to GME is class warfare, it’s nothing less.

*“$295,347,948,000 of that is split into options (calls & puts), while $78,979,887,238 (20.52%) is allocated to actual, physical, shares (or so they say). The rest is convertible debt securities.”* 

This is why I’m skeptical that it’s even possible for Citadel to get margin called by a normal price run-up. Let’s do some math here. GME’s float is at 232 million-ish shares, let’s say they shorted 300% of that, just to be conservative (lmao), so that’s 696 million. To take what the first post said, Margins don’t get called unless an entities’ collateral becomes less than 80% of what they’ve borrowed. If they use their entire $384,926,232,238 portfolio as collateral, then GME would have to soar to a price of… divide by 4, multiply by 5… $691.32 per share. That may sound relatively reasonable, but I don’t think a normal catalyst would be enough for that. I really think interest rates are the key, think about it, if they have to pay like 30% interest on all of those shares, their portfolio will be reduced by that much (kinda) and we can find a much more reasonable midpoint. Now brace yourselves, I’m about to spend an unreasonable amount of effort on something that is probably wrong because I don’t know shit about fuck about margins or getting called (I have a cash account and I lack rizz).
In order to calculate that we gotta do one of those double equation variable bullshit things we all hated in school, I forgot what they were called but I remember how to do them.
So, we have a few variables:
C = Citadel’s Portfolio = $384,926,232,238
S = Shorted Shares = 696,000,000
I = Intrest = 0.30
X = Price Per Share
Y = Citadel’s new portfolio amount after paying interest
So, X and Y are undetermined, but we have two equations to work with
C – I(X*S) = Y
This one calculates how much money is going to be in citadels new portfolio after paying interest, we calculate the interest by multiplying the cost per share, by the amount of shorted shares, and multiplying that by the interest rate, then subtracting it from their total portfolio.
Y * 1.25 = X * S
This one calculates the total amount those shorted shares have to be in order for Citadel to get margin called, by multiplying their new portfolio by 5/4 and calculating the total cost of the shares.
X * S has a direct value; we can plug the left side of the second equation into the first to get
C – I(Y*1.25) = Y
Now we just gotta isolate Y on one side of the equation.
C = Y + 0.3(Y*1.25)
C = 1.3Y * 0.375
C= 0.4875Y
C * 0.4875 = Y
Y = $187,651,538,216.03
Now we gotta find X, we can just plug in the other stuff.
(Y* 1.25)/ 696,000,000 = X
X = $337.02 per share for shitadel to get margin called on 30% interest.
Holy shit, now that’s what I call reasonable. See how much interest can completely fuck a portfolio? They lost almost half of their portfolio value to a 30% interest to this. This is why the whole market will bleed red on the run up to MOASS, they will have to sell half of their portfolio just to pay the interest.
Citadel is probably not a good example of this, since they print the naked shorts themselves... so they would be paying interest to... themselves... when they borrow them? Citadel is so fucked up, I don't have enough wrinkles for this.
But hey, I think the concept of what I said is fine. High interest rates can reduce collateral and cause margin calls. Hey, just out of curiosity, how much is the borrowing interest rate looking now?
16.5%
SHF are fucked.
​
Anyway, I’m writing this on a Wordpad document so I’m not sure if I’ve come up on the character limit, but I think I’m getting close so I’ll end this part here. Please let me know what I’ve got wrong or any insights you want to share, I’ll be sure to talk about any interesting comments when I do a part 2!
TLDR: I am reviewing the Diamond Handbook (2nd) and seeing what has changed in the three years since it’s been compiled. I have a bias in thinking that high borrowing interest rates are what will cause MOASS, and that is shown here. This is not meant to be an impartial analysis, just my thoughts. Not financial advice.

Hello Community, I'm seeking kind, honest, informative and helpful advice.

Situation: I'm looking to go to Turkey for a hair transplant. I have been told I am between Norwood Scale 4 and 5, and would need a minimum of 3000 grafts, up to 4000 grafts.
Background: I am a 33 year old African American Male. First noticed hair loss at age 20. Never been on any medication for hair loss. My father and my mother has some thinning. My cousin on paternal side also has significant hair loss.
Would I have an opportunity for a successful hair transplant with what you see here? Why or why not?
If not so, is there anything I could do to change that? A regimen of some sort to get me eligible for a HT. Is that even possible?
I really need a win of some sort or a path to success, because not only my hair on my scalp is weak but I am not happy with my beard either.
Thanks in advance.

Hello, fellow book lovers!
Today marks a monumental occasion – the 90th birthday of the beloved author Ruskin Bond. His contributions to Indian literature have left an indelible mark on readers of all ages. From enchanting children’s stories to profound reflections on life and nature, Bond's writing continues to resonate deeply with us.

A Glimpse at His Legacy

Ruskin Bond's literary journey began with his first novel, The Room on the Roof, which won the John Llewellyn Rhys Prize in 1957. Since then, he has authored over 500 short stories, essays, and novels. His vivid descriptions of life in the hills of India, the simplicity of his prose, and the warmth of his storytelling have made him a favorite across generations.

Why We Love Ruskin Bond

• Nostalgia and Simplicity: His stories often evoke a sense of nostalgia, taking us back to simpler times and places.
  
• Nature and Environment: Bond's profound love for nature is evident in his works, fostering a deeper appreciation for the environment.
  
• Character and Humanity: His characters, from Rusty to the various inhabitants of small towns, are rich in humanity and relatable quirks.
  

Discussion Points

1. Favorite Works: What are your favorite books or stories by Ruskin Bond and why?
   
2. Impact on Life: How has Ruskin Bond’s writing impacted your life or perspective?
   
3. Nature Writing: Let’s discuss how Bond’s portrayal of nature influences our view of the environment.
   
4. Lesser-Known Gems: Are there any lesser-known works of his that you think deserve more recognition?
   
5. Personal Encounters: Have you ever had the chance to meet Ruskin Bond or hear him speak? Share your experiences!
   

Celebrating His Legacy

As we celebrate this literary icon's 90th birthday, let’s take this opportunity to revisit his works, share our favorite quotes, and introduce his stories to a new generation of readers. Here’s to many more years of inspiring and heartwarming tales from Ruskin Bond!
Happy Birthday, Ruskin Bond! 🎉

I have a confession to make, but I don’t need whistleblower protection or your pathetic votes, I just want to flex on broke NUMTOTs and YIMBYs who can’t afford the freedom of single-occupancy driving, single-family living and single Angelenos (explains why you’re still single).
The big reveal is we hire deranged hobos and pay them a street-living wage (not necessarily in cash or cash equivalents) to just be themselves and do what they love (because they are enough) on LA Metro because it’s cheap and effective. Shit on us all you want, but you can’t deny that we’re the most progressive equal opportunity employer.
Unfortunately, things get out of hand, but we make the best of the collateral damages by having an exclusive contract with Kill Transit LA (KTLA) news, so that they get first dibs to report on any (un)foreseeable incidents.
Full disclosure, Erewhon Market is our latest big client. They want us to form an astroturf group to oppose a mixed-use, mixed-income, 500-unit apartment complex. Why? Because they want their stores to be a classy valet-parking destination, not crowded by poor apartment-dwelling window-shopping pedestrians who used to shop at 99 Cents Store before it went bankrupt due to frequent blatant shoplifting. I’m sorry for loss, but blame George Gascon, soft-on-crime politicians, and unemployed ACAB social (media) justice warriors for the spike in retail crimes.
The only violence in LA should look something like this: a Lambo-driving trust fund manchild shooting another Erewhon customer over the last box of premium organic strawberries - based on true story, by Hollywood’s definition.
Here’s a list of some of our most esteemed clients: https://images.app.goo.gl/PSfSbqxZX29kgBtL6

Why Coaches Need Social Media Management. In the realm of sports, where every move, victory, and even loss is dissected, discussed, and debated, the role of a coach extends far beyond the sidelines. In the digital age, where social media platforms serve as arenas for fans, athletes, and pundits to engage, coaches find themselves navigating an entirely new playing field. The need for coaches to have a robust social media presence and effective management cannot be overstated. Let’s explore why Coaches Need Social Media Management.

1. Connection with Fans (Why Coaches Need Social Media Management)

Gone are the days when a coach's interactions with fans were limited to post-game interviews and the occasional press conference. Social media platforms offer coaches a direct line of communication with their fan base, allowing them to share insights, engage in conversations, and foster a sense of community. By regularly posting updates, behind-the-scenes glimpses, and words of encouragement, coaches can forge stronger connections with supporters, enhancing fan loyalty and engagement.

2. Recruiting Power (Why Coaches Need Social Media Management)

Recruiting is the lifeblood of any sports program, and social media has become a crucial tool in the recruitment process. Coaches can use platforms like Twitter, Instagram, and LinkedIn to showcase their program's culture, facilities, and success stories. By strategically leveraging social media, coaches can attract top talent, engage with prospects, and stay top-of-mind throughout the recruiting cycle.

3. Brand Building (Why Coaches Need Social Media Management)

Just as athletes have personal brands, so too do coaches. Social media offers coaches a platform to shape and enhance their personal brand, positioning themselves as thought leaders, motivators, and mentors within their respective sports communities. Consistent, authentic, and engaging content can help coaches establish credibility, gain visibility, and differentiate themselves in a crowded field.

4. Crisis Management (Why Coaches Need Social Media Management)

In today's digital landscape, a single tweet or viral video can quickly escalate into a full-blown crisis. Whether it's addressing rumors, responding to criticism, or managing sensitive situations, coaches need to be prepared to navigate the complexities of social media with grace and poise. Effective social media management can help coaches mitigate reputational damage, control the narrative, and uphold the integrity of their program.

5. Recruiting Compliance (Why Coaches Need Social Media Management)

The NCAA and other governing bodies have strict rules and regulations governing recruiting activities, including those conducted via social media. Coaches must ensure compliance with these guidelines to avoid potential penalties or sanctions. Social media management tools can help coaches track communications, monitor content, and ensure adherence to recruiting rules, safeguarding the integrity of their program.

6. Education and Inspiration (Why Coaches Need Social Media Management)

Beyond the X's and O's of the game, coaches have a unique opportunity to educate and inspire through social media. Whether it's sharing motivational quotes, coaching tips, or personal anecdotes, coaches can use their platforms to uplift and empower their followers. By providing valuable content and insights, coaches can cultivate a loyal and engaged audience, driving positive impact both on and off the field.

Why Coaches Need Social Media Management.

In conclusion, the importance of social media management for coaches cannot be overstated. From connecting with fans and recruiting top talent to building their personal brand and navigating crises, social media has become an essential tool in the modern coach's toolkit. By embracing these platforms strategically and thoughtfully, coaches can enhance their effectiveness, elevate their program, and leave a lasting legacy in the digital age of sports. SMM services in Dhanbad

I’ve always hated the smell of gun oil. It clings to everything it touches, soaking deep into the fibers of my clothes, the lining of my backpack, the coarse hair on the back of my hands. Yet here I am, kneeling on the cracked linoleum of our mudroom, a Remington .308 laid across my thighs, and the stench of gun oil sharp in my nostrils. The early morning light barely scratches at the edges of the blinds, dim and gray like the belly of a dead fish.
My dad Frank is in the kitchen, clattering around with the coffeepot and mumbling under his breath. Today we’re heading up to the woods of Northern Michigan, same as we did every year before Leah… before we lost her.
I can’t help but feel the old scars throbbing as I load bullets into the magazine. It’s been ten years since that hunting trip, the one that tore my family into before and after. Before, when Leah's laughter was a constant soundtrack to our lives; after, when every silence was filled with her absence.
We were just kids back then. I was ten, Leah was eight. It was supposed to be a typical hunting trip, one of those bonding experiences Dad was always talking about. But things went wrong. We got separated from Dad somehow. One minute we were following him, the next we were lost, the dense woods closing in around us.
Dad says when he found me, I was huddled under a fallen tree, my eyes wide, my body frozen. All I could mutter through chattering teeth was "Dogman."
It was only later, after the search parties had combed through every thicket and hollow, that they found her. What remained of Leah was barely recognizable, the evidence of a brutal mauling undeniable. The authorities concluded it was likely a bear attack, but Dad... he never accepted that explanation. He had seen the tracks, too large and oddly shaped for any bear.
As I load another round, the memory flashes, unbidden and unwelcome. Large, hairy clawed hands reaching out towards us, impossibly big, grotesque in their form. Yet, the rest of the creature eludes me, a shadow just beyond the edge of my recall, leaving me with nothing but fragmented terrors and Leah’s haunting, echoing screams. My mind blocked most of it out, a self-defense mechanism, I guess.
For years after that day, sleep was a battleground. I'd wake up in strange places—kitchen floor, backyard, even at the edge of the nearby creek. My therapist said it was my mind's way of trying to resolve the unresolved, to wander back through the woods searching for Leah. But all I found in those sleepless nights was a deeper sense of loss.
It took time, a lot of therapy, and patience I didn't know I had, but the sleepwalking did eventually stop. I guess I started to find some semblance of peace.
I have mostly moved on with my life. The fragmentary memories of that day are still there, lurking in the corners of my mind, but they don’t dominate my thoughts like they used to. I just finished my sophomore year at Michigan State, majoring in Environmental Science.
As for Dad, the loss of Leah broke him. He became a shell of himself. It destroyed his marriage with Mom. He blamed himself for letting us out of his sight, for not protecting Leah. His life took on a single, consuming focus: finding the creature that killed her. He read every book, every article on cryptids and unexplained phenomena. He mapped sightings, connected dots across blurry photos and shaky testimonies of the Dogman.
But as the tenth anniversary of Leah’s death approaches, Dad's obsession has grown more intense. He’s started staying up late, poring over his maps and notes, muttering to himself about patterns and cycles. He’s convinced that the dogman reappears every ten years, and this is our window of opportunity to finally hunt it down.
I’m not nearly as convinced. The whole dogman thing seems like a coping mechanism, a way for Dad to channel his guilt and grief into something tangible, something he can fight against. But I decided to tag along on this trip, partly to keep an eye on him, partly because a small part of me hopes that maybe, just maybe, we’ll find some kind of closure out there in the woods.
I finish loading the rifle and set it aside, standing up to stretch my legs. I wipe my greasy hands on an old rag, trying to get rid of the smell. The early morning light is starting to seep into the room, casting long shadows across the floor.
Dad comes out of the kitchen with two thermoses of coffee in hand. His eyes are bleary and tired.
“You ready, Ryan?” he asks, handing me a thermos, his voice rough from too many sleepless nights.
“Yeah, I’m ready,” I reply, trying to sound more confident than I felt.
We load our gear into the truck, the weight of our supplies and weapons a physical reminder of the burden we carry. The drive from Lansing across the Lower Peninsula is long and quiet, the silence between us filled with unspoken memories and unresolved grief.
—
The drive north is a blur of highway lines and the dull hum of the engine. I drift off, the landscape outside blending into a haze. In my sleep, fragments of that day with Leah replay like scattered pieces of a puzzle. I see her smile, the way she tugged at my sleeve, eager to explore. The sunlight filters through the trees in sharp, jagged streaks.
Then, the memory shifts—darker, disjointed. Leah's voice echoes, a playful laugh turning into a scream that pierces the air. The crunch of leaves underfoot as something heavy moves through the underbrush. I see a shadow, large and looming, not quite fitting the shapes of any creature I know.
Then, something darker creeps into the dream, something I’ve never allowed myself to remember clearly.
Before I can see what it is I wake up with a start as the truck jerks slightly on a rough patch of road. Dad glances over. "Bad dream?" he asks. I nod, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, the remnants of the dream clinging to me like the cold.
"Yeah, just... thinking about Leah," I manage to say.
As we drive, Dad attempts to bridge the silence with small talk. He asks about my finals, my plans for the summer, anything to keep the conversation going. His voice carries a forced cheerfulness, but it’s clear his heart isn’t in it. I respond when necessary, my answers brief, my gaze fixed on the passing scenery.
The landscape changes as we head further north, from flat expanses to rolling hills dotted with dense patches of forest. It's beautiful country, the kind that reminds you how vast and wild Michigan can be, but today it just feels oppressive, like it’s closing in on us.
—
We finally arrive at the cabin, nestled deep in the woods, its weathered wood blending seamlessly with the surrounding trees. The place hasn't changed much since the last time I was here—a relic from another time, filled with the echoes of our past. I can still see Leah running around the porch, her laughter ringing out into the forest.
Dad parks the truck, and we step out into the crisp air. The smell of pine and damp earth fills my nostrils. We start unloading our gear, the tension between us palpable.
“Let’s get this inside,” Dad says, his voice gruff as he hefts a duffel bag onto his shoulder.
I nod, grabbing my own bag and following him to the cabin. Inside, it’s a mix of old and new—the same rustic furniture, but with new hunting gear and maps strewn across the table. Dad’s obsession is evident in every corner of the room, a constant reminder of why we’re here.
As we unpack, we exchange strained attempts at normalcy. He talks about the latest cryptid sightings he’s read about, his eyes lighting up with a fervor that both worries and saddens me.
“Did you hear about the sighting up near Alpena?” he asks, laying out his maps on the table.
“Yeah, you mentioned it,” I reply, trying to muster some enthusiasm. “Do you really think there’s something to it?”
Dad’s eyes meet mine, and for a moment, I see a flicker of doubt. But it’s quickly replaced by grim determination. “I have to believe it, Ryan. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”
We finish unpacking, the silence between us growing heavier with each passing minute. I step outside to clear my head, the cool air a welcome relief. The sun is starting to set, casting long shadows across the clearing. I can’t shake the feeling of unease.
"You can take the upstairs room," Dad mutters. His voice is strained, trying to sound normal, but it's clear the weight of the past is heavy on him. I nod, hauling my backpack up the creaking stairs to the small bedroom that I used to share with Leah. The room feels smaller now, or maybe I've just grown too much since those innocent days.
I unpack silently, setting my things aside. The bed is stiff and cold under my touch. As I settle in, I can't help but glance at the corner where Leah and I would huddle together, whispering secrets and making plans for adventures that would never happen. I push the thoughts away, focusing on the practicalities of unpacking.
After settling in, I go back downstairs to find Dad loading up a backpack with supplies for our hunt. The intensity in his eyes is palpable, his hands moving with practiced precision. I know this routine; it's one he's perfected over countless solo trips since that fateful day.
"We'll head out early," he says, not looking up from his task. "Gotta make the most of the daylight."
I nod, though unease curls in my stomach. I'm not just worried about what we might find—or not find—out there. I'm worried about him. Each year, the obsession seems to carve him out a bit more, leaving less of the Dad I knew.
—
The morning air is sharp with the scent of pine and wet earth as Dad and I head into the deeper parts of the forest. The terrain is rugged, familiar in its untamed beauty, but there’s a tension between us that makes the landscape feel alien. Dad moves with a purposeful stride, his eyes scanning the woods around us. Every snap of a twig, every rustle in the underbrush seems to draw his attention. He’s on edge, and it puts me on edge too.
As we walk, my mind drifts back to that day ten years ago. I can almost hear Leah’s voice echoing through the trees, her high-pitched call as she darted ahead, "Catch me, Ryan!" I remember how the sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting dancing shadows on the ground. Those memories are so vivid, so tangible, it feels like I could just turn a corner and see her there, waiting for us.
Dad suddenly stops and kneels, examining the ground. He points out a set of tracks that are too large for a deer, with an unusual gait pattern. "It’s been here, Ry. I’m telling you, it’s close," he whispers, a mixture of excitement and something darker in his voice. I nod, though I’m not sure what to believe. Part of me wants to dismiss it all as grief-fueled obsession, but another part, the part that heard Leah's scream and saw something monstrous in the woods that day, isn’t so sure.
As we continue, Dad's comments become increasingly cryptic. "You know, they say the dogman moves in cycles, drawn to certain places, certain times. Like it’s tied to the land itself," he muses, more to himself than to me. His fixation on the creature has always been intense, but now it borders on mania.
We set up a makeshift blind near a clearing where Dad insists the creature will pass. Hours drag by with little to see but the occasional bird or distant deer.
The sun rises higher in the sky, casting long, slender shadows through the dense canopy. I shift uncomfortably in my spot, the forest floor hard and unyielding beneath me. My eyes dart between the trees, hoping to catch a glimpse of something, anything, to break the monotony. Dad, on the other hand, remains steadfast, his gaze fixed on the treeline as if he can will the dogman into existence by sheer force of will.
A bird chirps nearby, startling me. I sigh and adjust my grip on the rifle. I glance over at Dad.
“Anything?” I ask, more out of boredom than genuine curiosity.
“Not yet,” he replies, his voice tight. “But it’s out there. I know it.”
I nod, even though I’m not sure I believe him. The forest seems too quiet, too still. Maybe we’re chasing ghosts.
As the sun begins its descent, the forest is bathed in a warm, golden light. The air cools, and a breeze rustles the leaves. I shiver, more from anticipation than the cold. The long hours of sitting and waiting are starting to wear on me.
“Let’s call it a day for now,” Dad says finally, his voice heavy with disappointment. “We’ll head back to the cabin, get some rest, and try again tomorrow.”
I stand and stretch, feeling the stiffness in my muscles. We pack up our gear in silence and start the trek back to the cabin. The walk is long and quiet, the only sounds are the crunch of leaves underfoot and the distant calls of birds settling in for the night.
—
Dinner is a quiet affair, both of us lost in our thoughts. I try to make small talk, asking Dad about his plans for tomorrow, but it feels forced. We clean up in silence.
After dinner, I retreat to the small bedroom. The fatigue from the day's hike has settled into my bones, but sleep still feels like a distant hope. I lie down, staring at the ceiling, the room cloaked in darkness save for the sliver of moonlight creeping through the window. Downstairs, I hear the faint sound of Dad moving around, likely unable to sleep himself.
I drift into sleep, but it's not restful. My dreams pull me back to that fateful day in the woods. Leah's voice is clear and vibrant, her laughter echoing through the trees. She looks just as she did then—bright-eyed and full of life, her blonde hair catching the sunlight as she runs ahead of me.
"Come on, Ry! You can't catch me!" she taunts, her voice playful and teasing.
I chase after her, but the scene shifts abruptly. The sky darkens, the woods around us growing dense and foreboding. Leah's laughter fades, replaced by a chilling silence. I see her ahead, standing still, her back to me.
"Leah?" I call out, my voice trembling. She turns slowly, her eyes wide and filled with fear. "Ryan, you have to remember," she says, her voice barely a whisper. "It wasn't what you think. You need to know the truth."
Leah’s words hang in the air, cryptic and unsettling. Before I can respond, she turns and starts running again, her figure becoming a blur among the trees. Panic rises in my chest as I sprint after her, my feet pounding against the forest floor.
“Leah, wait!” I shout, desperation lacing my voice. The forest around me seems to close in, the trees towering and twisted, shadows dancing menacingly in the dim light. I push forward, trying to keep her in sight, but she’s too fast, slipping away like a wisp of smoke.
Suddenly, there’s a rustle, a flash of movement in the corner of my vision. Leah screams, a sound that pierces through the heavy silence. It happens too quickly—I can’t see what it is, only a dark blur that snatches her up.
“Leah!” I scream, my voice breaking. I stumble, falling to my knees as the forest spins around me. My heart races, and the terror is so real, so visceral, that it pulls me back to that awful day, the one that changed everything.
I jolt awake, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
I sit up, wiping the cold sweat from my forehead as I try to steady my breathing. The room is still dark, the shadows cast by the moonlight seem to flicker and dance on the walls. My heart is still racing from the nightmare, the echo of Leah's scream lingering in my ears.
As I struggle to calm down, the floorboards outside my room creak. The door opens slowly, and I see the silhouette of my dad in the doorway, a Bowie knife in his hand, his posture tense.
“Dad, what the hell are you doing?” I whisper, my voice shaking.
“Shh,” he hisses, holding up a hand to silence me. “I heard something. Something moving around in the cabin. Stay quiet.”
I swallow hard, my mouth dry. I glance at the clock on the nightstand—it’s just past three in the morning. The cabin is silent, the kind of deep, oppressive silence that makes every small sound seem louder. I can’t hear anything out of the ordinary, but Dad’s expression is deadly serious.
He motions for me to get up, and I do, moving as quietly as I can. My heart is racing, a mix of lingering fear from the dream and the sudden, sharp anxiety of the present moment. Dad leads the way, stepping cautiously out of the bedroom and into the hallway, the knife held ready in front of him.
We move through the cabin, checking each room in turn. The living room is empty, the furniture casting long shadows in the dim moonlight. The kitchen is just as we left it, the plates from dinner still drying on the counter. Everything seems normal, untouched.
We finish our sweep of the cabin without finding anything amiss. The silence is heavy, punctuated only by our soft footfalls. I can see the tension in Dad’s frame, his grip on the knife unwavering. After checking the last room, we pause in the dimly lit hallway, the air thick with unspoken questions.
“There’s nothing here,” I say, my voice low. “Are you sure you heard something?”
He looks at me, his eyes searching for something in my face. “I heard growling. Deep and close. It was right outside the window.”
“Maybe it was just an animal outside, a raccoon or something?” I suggest, although the certainty in his voice makes me doubt my own reassurance.
“No, it wasn’t like that. It was different,” he insists, his voice tense.
I nod, not wanting to argue, but the seeds of worry are planted deep.
The look in his eyes sends a chill down my spine. It’s not just fear—it’s desperation. The kind of desperation that comes from years of chasing shadows and finding nothing. I can see the toll this hunt has taken on him, the way it’s worn him down, turned him into a man I barely recognize.
We head back to our rooms. As I lie down, my mind races with thoughts of my dad. I can’t help but wonder if he’s losing it, if the years of grief and guilt have finally pushed him over the edge.
Dad wasn’t always like this. Before Leah’s death, he was the kind of father who took us fishing, helped with homework, and told terrible jokes that made us groan and laugh at the same time. He was solid, dependable. But losing Leah changed him. The guilt twisted him into someone I barely recognize, someone driven by a need for answers, for closure, that may never come.
I try to sleep, but my thoughts keep me awake. I can hear Dad moving around downstairs, probably pacing or double-checking the locks. His paranoia has become a constant presence, and I don’t know how to help him. I don’t even know if I can help him.
—
The next morning, the sunlight filters weakly through the cabin windows, casting a pale light that does little to lift the heavy mood. I drag myself out of bed, feeling the exhaustion of another restless night. Dad is already up, hunched over his maps at the kitchen table, his eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep.
“Morning,” I mumble, rubbing the sleep from my eyes as I pour myself a cup of coffee. “Did you sleep at all?”
He shakes his head, not looking up from his notes. “Not much. I couldn’t stop thinking about what I heard last night.”
I sip my coffee, trying to shake off the remnants of my nightmare. “Maybe it was just an animal, Dad. We’re deep in the woods, after all.”
He finally looks up, his eyes intense. “Ryan, I know what I heard. It wasn’t just an animal. It was something else.”
I sigh, not wanting to argue. “Okay, fine, Dad. What’s the plan for today?”
“We’re going back out. I found some tracks yesterday, and I want to follow them. See where they lead.”
I nod, feeling a mix of apprehension and resignation. I can see how much this means to him, how desperate he is for any kind of lead. “Alright. Let’s get packed and head out.”
We spend the morning preparing, loading up our gear and double-checking our supplies. Dad is meticulous, going over everything with a fine-toothed comb. I try to match his focus, but my mind keeps drifting back to Leah and the dream I had. Her words echo in my head, cryptic and unsettling: “You need to know the truth.”
We set off into the woods, the air crisp and cool. The forest is alive with the sounds of birds and rustling leaves, but it all feels distant, like background noise to the tension between us. Dad leads the way, his eyes scanning the ground for any sign of the tracks he found yesterday.
As we walk, I can’t help but notice how erratically he’s acting. He mutters to himself, his eyes darting around as if expecting something to jump out at us. His grip on his rifle is tight, his knuckles white.
“Dad, are you okay?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.
He glances at me, his expression unreadable. “I’m fine. Just focused.”
He stops frequently to examine the ground or the bark of trees, pointing out marks and signs that seem meaningless to me.
“Look at this,” he says, crouching down to examine a broken branch. “See how it’s snapped? That’s not a deer or a bear. That’s something bigger. Stronger.”
I crouch next to Dad, squinting at the broken branch. To me, it just looks like a regular broken branch, the kind you see all over the forest. "I don't know, Dad. It just looks like a branch to me," I say, trying to keep my voice neutral.
Dad's eyes flicker with frustration. "You're not looking close enough. It's the way it's snapped—too clean, too deliberate. Something did this."
I nod, not wanting to argue. "Okay, sure. But even if you're right, it could be anything. A storm, another hunter..."
His expression hardens. "I know what I'm looking for. This is different."
I sigh, feeling the weight of the past and the tension between us pressing down on me. "Dad, I had a dream last night. About Leah." The words hang in the air between us, heavy and fraught with unspoken emotions.
Dad's eyes widen, and he straightens up, his entire demeanor shifting. "What kind of dream? What did you see?" His voice is urgent, almost desperate.
"It was... strange. We were in the woods, like we are now, but everything felt different. Leah was there, running ahead of me, laughing. Then she stopped and told me I needed to know the truth, that it wasn't what I thought."
Dad grabs my shoulders, his grip tight. "What else did she say? Did she tell you anything specific? Anything about the creature?"
I shake my head, feeling a chill run down my spine. "No, that was it. She just said I needed to know the truth, and then she was gone."
Dad’s grip on my shoulders tightens, and his eyes bore into mine with a mixture of desperation and hope. “Ryan, you have to try to remember. Think hard. What did the creature look like? Did you see anything else?”
I pull back slightly, uneasy with his intensity. “Dad, I told you. I don’t remember. It was just a dream. A nightmare, really. My mind’s probably just mixing things up.”
He lets go of me and runs a hand through his hair, looking frustrated and lost. “Dreams can be important. They can hold memories we’ve buried deep. Please, try to remember. This could be a sign, a clue.”
I rub my temples, feeling the beginnings of a headache. “I’ve tried, okay? I’ve tried for years to piece together what happened that day. But it’s all just fragments, like pieces of a puzzle that don’t fit. The dream… it felt real, but I don’t think it’s telling me anything new.”
Dad’s face falls, and he looks older than I’ve ever seen him. He turns away, staring into the forest as if it holds all the answers.
—
As we make our way back to the cabin, the sun begins to set, casting long shadows through the trees. The air grows colder, and I shiver, pulling my jacket tighter around me. Dad is silent, lost in his thoughts, his face drawn and haggard.
Back at the cabin, we unload our gear once again in silence. Dad disappears into his room, muttering something about going over his notes. I decide to explore the cabin, hoping to find something that might help me understand what’s going on with him.
In the attic, I find a box of old family photos and documents. As I sift through the contents, I come across a worn journal with Dad’s handwriting on the cover. Curiosity gets the better of me, and I open it, flipping through the pages.
The journal is filled with notes and sketches, detailing his obsession with the dogman. But there’s something else—entries that talk about Leah, about that day in the woods. His handwriting becomes more erratic, the words harder to read. One entry stands out, dated just a few days after Leah’s death:
“June 15, 2013 – It was supposed to be a normal trip. Keep them close, Frank, I kept telling myself. But I failed. Leah is gone, and it’s my fault. I heard her scream, saw the shadows. I tried to get to her, but… the thing, it was there. Too fast. Too strong. My hands… blood everywhere. No one will believe me. I can’t even believe myself. I have to find it. I have to protect Ryan. I have to make it right. God, what have I done?”
Before I can read further, the attic door creaks open, and Dad’s voice slices through the stillness.
“What are you doing up here?” His tone is sharp, almost panicked.
I turn to see him standing in the doorway, his face pale and his eyes wide with something between anger and fear. I clutch the journal to my chest, my mind racing. “I found this… I was just trying to understand…”
In an instant, he crosses the room and snatches the journal from my hands. His grip is tight, his knuckles white. “You had no right,” he growls, his voice trembling.
“Dad, I just wanted to know the truth!” I shout, frustration boiling over. “What really happened to Leah.”
His eyes flash with a mix of rage and anguish, and before I can react, he slaps me across the face. The force of it knocks me off balance, and I stumble backward, my cheek stinging.
For a moment, there’s a stunned silence. We both stand there, breathing hard, the air thick with tension.
“I’m sorry,” Dad says finally, his voice barely a whisper. “I didn’t mean to… I just…” He trails off, clutching the journal to his chest like a lifeline.
I touch my cheek, feeling the heat from the slap, and take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. “Dad, what aren’t you telling me? What really happened that day?”
“Stay out of it, Ryan,” Dad growls, his eyes dark with anger. “You don’t know what you’re messing with.”
He turns and storms out of the attic. I’m left standing there, my cheek throbbing, my mind racing. What the fuck is going on? What really happened to Leah? And what is Dad so afraid of?
—
That night, I sleep with my rifle within arm's reach, more afraid of my dad than any dogman. The slap still burns on my cheek, and the look in his eyes—rage, fear, something darker—haunts me. I lie awake, listening to the creaks and groans of the old cabin, every sound amplified in the stillness. Eventually, exhaustion pulls me under, and I fall into a restless sleep.
The dream returns, vivid and unsettling. I'm back in the woods, chasing after Leah. Her laughter echoes through the trees, a haunting reminder of happier times. This time, though, I push myself harder, refusing to let her slip away.
"Ryan, catch me!" she calls, her voice playful.
"I'm coming, Leah!" I shout, my legs pumping, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
The forest around us is a twisted, shadowy maze, the trees seeming to close in on us. Leah's figure becomes clearer, her blonde hair catching the dim light filtering through the canopy. She stops suddenly, turning to face me, her eyes wide with fear.
"Leah, what is it?" I ask, my voice trembling.
"Look behind you," she whispers, her voice barely audible.
I turn slowly, dread creeping up my spine. In the shadows, I see a figure, its form indistinct and shifting. It’s not quite animal, not quite human—something in between. The sight of it sends a jolt of terror through me, and I wake up with a start, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
I’m not in my bed. The ground beneath me is cold and hard, the smell of damp earth filling my nostrils. Panic rises as I realize I’ve sleepwalked into the woods. I scramble to my feet, my eyes adjusting to the dim light. The moon casts a pale glow over the surroundings, revealing what looks like a long-abandoned animal lair.
The walls are covered in giant claw marks, deep gouges in the wood and earth. The air is heavy with the scent of decay, and a chill runs through me. I can’t shake the feeling that I’m being watched.
Carefully, I start to move, my eyes scanning the ground, desperate for a familiar landmark. That's when I see them—faded scraps of fabric caught on the jagged edges of the underbrush. My steps falter, a sense of dread washing over me as I bend down to examine them. The fabric is torn, weathered by time and the elements, but unmistakably familiar. It's part of Leah's jacket—the bright pink one she wore on the day she disappeared.
As I strain to make sense of it all, a rustling sound behind me snaps my focus. My heart leaps into my throat. I spin around, my hand instinctively reaching for the rifle I don't have—because, of course, I didn't bring it in my unconscious state.
The shadowy figure that emerges from the trees is unsettlingly familiar, mirroring the menacing forms of my nightmares. But as it steps into the moonlight, I recognize the worn jacket, the weary posture. It's Dad.
"Ryan!" he calls out, his voice a mix of relief and stern concern. "I've been looking everywhere for you. What the hell are you doing out here?"
I exhale slowly, the terror ebbing away as reality sets back in. "I—I don't know, Dad. I must've sleepwalked again." My voice is shaky, my earlier dream still clinging to the edges of my consciousness.
Dad stares at me in disbelief. "You haven't sleepwalked since you were a kid, Ry. This... this isn't just a coincidence." His eyes dart around, taking in the surroundings—the eerie, claw-marked den, the unsettling quiet of the woods. "How did you even find this place?"
I shake my head, struggling to find an answer. "I don't know, Dad. I just... I woke up here." The uncertainty in my voice does nothing to ease the tension.
His eyes lock onto the tattered remains of Leah's jacket in my hands, and something inside him snaps. The color drains from his face as he stumbles a few steps backward. "This... this is where it happened," he murmurs, his voice barely a whisper. “This is where we found Leah."
“I thought you said you don’t remember anything from that night,” he says accusingly.
"I swear, Dad, I don't know anything about this place," I insist, my own heart pounding.
“It was you, wasn’t it? You’ve been hiding this from me.” His voice is frantic. “You... last night, the growling, it was you.” His voice rises, tinged with hysteria.
I step back, my pulse racing, feeling the chill of the night and the weight of his accusation. "Dad, I don't know what you're talking ab—”
"No!" he interrupts, his voice breaking as he points a trembling finger at me. "You knew, you always knew. It was you, Ryan. All these years, the evidence was right there, but I refused to see it. You were the dogman. You killed Leah!"
His words hit me like a physical blow, absurd and horrifying in their implications. "Dad, you're not making any sense. You're talking crazy! I was just a little kid! How could I–" I protest, my voice shaky.
He steps closer, his presence looming over me, the outline of his figure distorted by the shadows of the trees. "Think about it! It all makes sense now. You led us here, to this place, because you remember. Because you did it."
"Dad, stop it!" I shout, my heart pounding in my chest. "You're scaring me. You need help, professional help. This isn't you."
But he's beyond reason, his eyes wild with a haunted grief. "I have to end this," he mutters, more to himself than to me, his hand tightening around his rifle.
His finger hovers dangerously over the trigger of his rifle. My instincts kick in, and I know I have to act fast.
I lunge toward him, trying to knock the weapon away, but he's quicker than I expected. We struggle, our breaths heavy in the cold night air, the sounds of our scuffle the only noise in the otherwise silent woods. His strength surprises me, fueled by his frantic emotions. He shoves me back, and I stumble over a root, my balance lost for a crucial second. That's all he needs. He raises his rifle, his intentions clear in his wild, pained eyes.
I dive to the ground just as the shot rings out, a deafening blast that echoes ominously through the trees. The bullet whizzes past, narrowly missing me, embedding itself in the bark of an old pine. I scramble to my feet, my heart pounding in my ears, and I start running. The underbrush claws at my clothes and skin, but I push through, driven by a primal urge to survive.
"Dad, stop! It's me, Ryan!" I shout back as I dodge between the trees. Another shot breaks the silence, closer this time, sending splinters of wood flying from a nearby tree trunk. It's surreal, being hunted by my own father, a man tormented by grief and lost in his delusions.
I don't stop to look back. I can hear him crashing through the forest behind me, his heavy breaths and muttered curses carried on the wind. The terrain is rough, and I'm fueled by adrenaline, but exhaustion is setting in. I need a plan.
Ahead, I see a rocky outcrop and make a split-second decision to head for it. It offers a chance to hide, to catch my breath and maybe reason with him if he catches up. As I reach the rocks, I slip behind the largest one, my body pressed tight against the cold, damp surface. I hear his footsteps approaching, slow and cautious now.
As I press against the rock, trying to calm my racing heart, I can hear Dad's footsteps drawing closer, each step crunching ominously on the forest floor. He's methodical, deliberate, like a hunter stalking his prey.
“Come out, Ryan!” Dad’s voice is ragged, filled with a blend of fury and pain.
My heart pounds against my chest, the cold sweat on my back making me shiver against the rough surface of the rock. I know I can't just sit here; it's only a matter of time before he finds me.
Taking a deep breath, I peek around the edge of the rock, trying to gauge his position. I see him, rifle raised, scanning the area slowly. This might be my only chance to end this madness without further violence. I need to disarm him, to talk some sense into him if I can.
As quietly as I can, I move out from behind the rock, my steps careful to avoid any twigs or leaves that might betray my position. I'm almost upon him when a branch snaps under my foot—a sound so trivial yet so alarmingly loud in the quiet of the woods.
Dad whirls around, looking completely unhinged. "Ryan!" he exclaims, his rifle swinging in my direction. Panic overtakes me, and I lunge forward, my hands reaching for the gun.
We struggle, the rifle between us, our breaths heavy and erratic. "Dad, please, stop!" I plead, trying to wrestle the gun away. But he's strong, stronger than I expected.
In the chaos, the rifle goes off. The sound is deafening, a sharp echo that seems to reverberate off every tree around us. Pain explodes in my abdomen, sharp and burning, like nothing I've ever felt before. I stagger back, my hands instinctively going to the wound. The warmth of my own blood coats my fingers, stark and terrifying.
Dad drops the rifle, his eyes wide with horror. "Oh my God! What have I done?" he gasps, rushing to my side as I collapse onto the forest floor.
As the pain sears through me, a strange, overpowering energy surges within. It's wild, primal, unlike anything I've ever experienced. Looking down in horror, my hands are no longer hands but large, hairy, clawed appendages. The transformation is rapid, consuming—my vision blurs, senses heighten, and a raw, guttural growl builds in my throat.
In that moment, a flood of understanding washes over me, mingling with the horror of realization. These are the hands of the creature from my nightmares, the creature whose face I can never fully recall because, as I now understand, it is me.
What happens next feels detached, as if I'm no longer in control of my own actions, watching from a distance as my body moves on its own. I turn towards my dad, his face a mask of terror. He stumbles back, his eyes wide with the dawning realization of what his son has become.
The forest around us seems to fall silent, holding its breath as the nightmarish scene unfolds. I can hear my own growls, guttural and deep, filling the air with a sound that's both foreign and intimately familiar. The pain in my abdomen fuels a dark, violent urge, an urge that's too strong to resist.
With a ferocity that feels both alien and intrinsic, I move towards him. My dad, paralyzed by fear and shock, doesn't run. Maybe he can't. Maybe he doesn't want to.
The encounter was brutal and swift, a blur of motion and violence. My dad barely puts up a struggle, as though resigned to his fate.
Not that there is anything he can do. The creature that I’ve become is too powerful, too consumed by the wild instincts surging through me. I tear him apart, limb from bloody limb, my hands—no, my claws—rending through fabric and flesh with disgusting ease.
The sound of my dad’s screams, of tearing fabric and flesh is drowned out by the animalistic growls that echo through the trees.
When it’s all over, the red mist that had clouded my vision begins to fade, and the fierce, uncontrollable rage that drove my actions subsides. I'm left standing, my breaths heavy and erratic, in the eerie stillness of the forest. The transformation reverses as quickly as it came on, and I find myself back in my human form. My clothes are ripped to shreds, hanging off my frame in tattered remnants. At my feet lies what’s left of my dad, his body torn and unrecognizable.
I glance down at my abdomen, expecting agony, but instead find my wound miraculously healed. No sign of the gunshot remains, just a faint scar where I expected a bloody mess.
Shock sets in, a numbing disbelief mixed with a gut-wrenching realization of what I've become and what I've done. My hands, now human again, tremble as I look at them, half-expecting to see the claws that had so effortlessly ripped through flesh and bone. But there's only blood, my father's blood against my skin.
I stand there for what feels like an eternity, trapped in a nightmare of my own making.
Eventually, the shock wears thin, and a cold practicality takes hold. I need to get out of here. I need to cover my tracks, to disappear. Because who would believe this? Who would understand that I didn't choose this, that I'm not a monster by choice?
With trembling hands, I do what’s necessary. I bury my dad in a shallow grave, the physical act of digging strangely grounding. I cover him with leaves and branches, a pitiful attempt to hide the brutality of his end. I take a moment, whispering apologies into the wind, knowing full well that nothing I say can change what happened.
I leave the forest behind, my mind a whirl of dark thoughts. As I walk, the first hints of dawn brush against the horizon, the sky bleeding a soft pink. It’s hauntingly beautiful.

everyone I just want to vent about something
I am 16 years old and after a very toxic relationship I soon became very depressed it was a very serious depressive episode I would say I was in my bed just rotting for all of October 2022 is when it started and really that depression took a while to curb and is now back from my arthritis symptoms. I had completely lost my appetite and really, I would eat nothing all day. I don’t know how I did it, I had nearly 7 seizures last year.. but I was so extremely depressed from such toxic people who were still trying to crawl back into my life. I’ve almost lost or I have lost 20 pounds in a year from the depression. I was always perfectly fine for my whole life.. I don’t know how to feel this is really hard for me mentally. I feel disabled I feel like my opportunities are reduced. I feel like as if I’m still struggling with the denial. So my parents definitely noticed my weight loss last year but didn’t really do anything to help me like take me to a doctor and I also didn’t advocate for myself as I was in so deep into my depressive episode so I can also blame myself I guess. But that’s what my problem is.. my mother blames me for my arthritis and everyone in my life is denying at the moment I think everyone is in shock as well. I got into an argument with my father a couple days about something petty and I had told him my arthritis has given me a short temper and made me an angrier person, he said you don’t have sh*t and it made me feel very invalidated and angry and I told him the first stage is denial maybe that wasn’t the best choice of words but I know he might just be in denial and hurt as well as my dad so I am not thinking about what he said too much. My symptoms really started Nov 2023 once in the morning I was brushing my hair before school and I felt a very tight pain in my wrist when I had moved my hand a certain direction because my hair is curly and needs a lot of maintenance, I knew this was a big red flag as I had never felt that before. Then the real pain started the joint pain, aching, dullness, burning, tense pain I feel deep in my bones that i know is arthritis 💔 I am so scared and worried for my future . My symptoms were the worst in winter, where my body would hurt all the time in the cold!! I dropped from 115 lb to almost 96-97 now i know I am unhealthy and doing my best to gain it back I am also 5’1. Also, whenever I move in class my body pops so extremely loud.. to have arthritis at this age in the school setting is so incredibly humiliating and confusing and difficult… I always have to crack my knuckles to ease the pressure built in them after I’m done writing, sometimes I feel the worst of all is I’ve lost my beautiful body that people used to compliment me on, I have genetic cystic acne and wear glasses so it really was the only thing that did make me feel good enough which hurts me to say. I wonder when I go to school what people think of me, I’ve even lost my best friend and friend group because I’m not beautiful like them anymore. It sounds stupid but it’s true my hair being very short due to the shrinkage in curly hair does make me look a bit ugly I have short hair now but it’s growing as i try to gain weight.. how i feel is what is the point of life if I am always suffering 💔 and why me💔 my parents can’t afford even clothes and food for me now they have to buy me medicine i don’t even think they are taking me seriously unfortunately… as the oldest daughter in an immigrant household they always expected me to know how to raise myself and now when i need them they aren’t here😔 it’s hard to write in class and even stay awake, i was always a sleepy person but arthritis is a different.. exhaustion. I feel as if there’s nothing to live for, I am emotionally drained and numbed I almost feel like I’m losing it sometimes. I wish we had a support group for very young people dealing with arthritis because I feel like my life is robbed from me but i only have myself to blame I guess 💔😔

Key: for later in the story Older sister: Horse Younger sister: llama Me: Bunny My wife: Fox Creepy boyfriend: Leech
Anybody who has more than one kid in the family knows that one of them is a "pick me" child. Well I have one, my older sister. How do I describe her, you know the Pokemon Ditto? Yes just like that, a purple blob that mimics any Pokemon, she mimics anyone. She made my life a living hell. Get ready Reddit it's a long one. I will have to break this up into multiple parts.
Let's start with my childhood/teen years. So my older sister is a couple years older than me and our dad was married to her mom. Anyway our dad ends the marriage when he finds out her mother was cheating on him. A little bit after that my mom and dad got together and well ....they got married and then I was born. A couple of years later my little sister was born. My older sister's mom pretty much screwed my parents and had to take her every other week. God I hated those weekends because we had to do everything she wanted, buy the food that she could only eat, watch only what she wanted to watch, and she made my sister and I her own personal Barbie dolls. When I say personal Barbie dolls, she wanted to be a hairdresser when she was older and practice on us. She thought that she could get better -newsflash! -she didn't. One time she wanted to put curls in my hair so I let her when the curls came out I looked like bloody Shirley Temple. 😤
Adult years: It only got worse as we grew into adults. For some reason my older and younger sisters had competition between each other, which left me in the dark and that was okay, I was too weird for them. At this point I had gone through my own demons. Anyway, we are all "adults" The older sister still acts like she never grew up. In 2016, all hell broke loose my older sister got into sell mlms (yuck!). The only reason why she said that she got into selling mlms is because she was helping her friends, hmm yea no just wanted to be a part of a group. She was selling herbal life, a weight loss program, now she did lose the weight while on this program, but she didn't stick to it. Also at this time she was married to her husband of eight years. She then met her current boyfriend when her family moved to another town. After that her and the husband split up. Now reader ,I never said they got legally divorce so they are still married to this day while she is with another guy. In 2017, I met my lovely wife on Facebook. We had a long distance relationship for a 1.5 years. In 2018 they came over to the states and asked me to marry them and of course I said yes!! They came back over in early 2019 because we had an event plan and while they were here we had a big family dinner. Oh goodie, I would rather go to church then do this dinner. The day of the family dinner comes up and everyone is happy to meet my fiancee, Fox. Well let's get on with dinner. The whole family went and sat down, and even before we started eating, Horse insisted on saying a prayer, now I was raised Christian, but I am pagan and so is my fiancee. After that we went to the all you can eat buffet. Now my mom can't have the buffet because she has a seafood allergy (understandable) ,but Horse and Leech didn't go to the buffet because and I quote, " Oh Leech doesn't eat seafood and neither do I." In my brain I am "What?!? since when?!?" That was a lie 🤥!! She used to eat a pound of shrimp when we were the kids. As we were eating, we were talking to each other, Llama asked me, "Bunny where are you guys going to get married", and I explained that I was going to move to Ireland, (where I live now) and we are going to get married at the register office and later on we are...then Horse butt in and said, "Leech and I are getting married at the lake" All of sudden both Llama and I said,l: "Aren't you still married?!" That shut her up. Yes my reader she never got divorced , so legally she is still married. After that I finally got to say what I was going to say, "Going to have a vow renewal at Ren fest in Kansas City later on down the line." All of a sudden Horse said: "Oh there is no way Leech and I can go because Leech is a convicted CP." In my mind:" Wtf, you are my sister and you are picking a guy over my vow renewal ?!? After that , I lost all my respect for her. Like they say like mother like daughter. Would you like a part 2. Let me know!!! Thanks!!

I'm a Data Engineer with 5 years of experience and I work on Azure and AWS data stack. I'm being offered a role in the UK for which I should negotiate the salary. This is a Service based consulting company with over 35k people working across the world in different regions. What number can I quote with my level of role and experience?
Edited: I also have an offer of 30 Lakhs in India. Comparing this to the above opportunity assuming they offer me 60k GBP, is it even worth it to relocate?