I’m pregnant with my second child and kind of freaked out that I’m barely symptomatic so far. With my first baby, nausea, food aversions, and enhanced sense of smell all started at the end of week 5. With this pregnancy, I have sore boobs, barely any nausea, and my bloodhound nose hasn’t come yet. I had an ultrasound at 5+6 and we saw a heartbeat and my hcg numbers have been great. Are these bad signs or is every pregnancy different and I’m having anxiety?

Hi all! I just finished week 4 of 2.5 and after having a lot of nice slow and steady success the first 3 weeks (losing 1-3 pounds per week and good appetite suppression with minimal side effects- just a little nausea the first 2 or 3 days after the shot), I just weighed myself and I gained 1.5 pounds this week. I take my next shot tonight and am wondering if I should go to 3.5 and ease in to the higher dose since I was having some success before or go straight to the 5 (that’s what I was prescribed for this month following the regular schedule). I did have a really stressful week so that may have something to do with it? I think I’m just feeling a little triggered with this small gain after losing some on Contrave and then gaining some back once it stopped working….thanks for the advice!

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I’m a closet romance novel reader. Not the ones you used to find on your grandmas bedside table, but the ones that are erotic and violent. The ones where the female is swept off her feet by a criminal, the bad boy. The one whose rough exterior is only softened by the female he craves.
I hate these books as much as I secretly love them. Reading about a life I secretly wished I lived. Wanting to feel something and becoming so involved with the characters that for a moment I’m lost in a world of love , excitement and desire. A world that only exists between the pages on a shelf.
I will curse these books when I finish the last page, curse them for what they have that I will never have.

Hi there,
I just randomly stomped into this sub while searching for learning techniques and professional stuff.
I have been diagnosed with ADD (+ episodes of severe cognitive hyperactivity), hypertension and a not yet further defined simple learning disability among others.
I really do not have any idea at what end of the entire learning spectrum I am supposed to start as the whole topic of specialised education is massive, at least it seems like that to me.
I am in wait for professional help, but in my country the expected time to the end of the waiting lists are somewhere between 12 to 24 months. And even if I am fighting depression right now, I want to start doing something at least sometimes to help that learning disability in before treatment starts. I am not talking about severe topics here, I want to shuffle my way through the basics, but I can not determine a proper start among all that information overload.
I am engaging in ATT training after the model of Wells to help with focusing issues, but that is basically the only thing I was able to make out so far and it's not even that close to the topic of learning disabilities.
Can anyone help with this ?

Apologies in advance for any spelling errors emotions are running high as I’m writing this.
Edit: added paragraphs
For context this happened a few days ago.
I, M 24 have been in a relationship with my boyfriend who I’ll call Red (Not his real name), M 23 for around 4 years now after we met at our mutual friends house. We had hit it off after a few drinks and I ended the night with his number and 3 months later we started chatting exclusively and 6 months later we started dating. (At this point in time we hadn’t met each other’s families and he hadn’t mentioned them during the whole 9 month period.) When we first started dating Ill admit I was head over heels and wanted him to meet my family (I have a rather large family) right away and was quite pushy about them meeting although we hadn’t been dating for 5 months at that point. But he talked me out of it saying I was “Moving too fast.” I dont know if that was a red flag or not but I don’t think it was.
Anyways, around 1.5-2 years ago I learned that Red had a little brother 23 M (they are twins, Red was just born first by a little over 5 hours.) which came as a shock to me because during our entire relationship Red had never mentioned his brother and was every adamant that not only did he and his family weren’t close but that he had cut them all off. I which was a major red flag for me because for starters I had only met his brother because I had a package delivered to his house and need to pick it up. I have a key to his house but I have a habit of knocking because I OCD. So imagine my shock when the door is opened by not Red but someone who looked suspiciously like him who immediately asked me who I was. When I told him I was asking for Red (MY boyfriend) he said he wasn’t home and that he was at the store and he’ll tell him that someone came to the door to ask for him. At which I told him that I was his boyfriend and that I needed to pick up a package.
He looked a little suspicious but let me in regardless and we sat in the living room and talked till red came home. I was really curious about who these mystery person was and for a while thought Red was cheating on me until his brother who I’ll call Jane (Not his real name) informed me that he was reds twin brother. I was in shock because for two years Red had told me that he had not relationship with any of his family and here’s his twin brother in his house. (I’ve been to his house before and at not pint in time did he ever have any roommates or other people living in his apartment. So it was shocking and I felt really betrayed because at that point he had already met my family.)
Me and Jane made more small talk till Red came home 20 something minutes later and was shocked to see both me and Jane sitting on the couch. I was gonna stay for longer after red came home but the moment I saw his face I just couldn’t and ended up leaving shortly after. I couldn’t stop thinking about how he never told me he had a brother and later that night at like 8 pm I texted him and asked him why he never told me he had a brother nonetheless a TWIN brother and why he lied about cutting off all his family. He responded 2 hours later at 10 and asked me to call him which I did and I he told me that the reason he never told me about Jane was because although he actually didn’t cut all his family off but those he did still talk too he didn’t tell other people about too which I asked why?
Only to be met with him avoiding the question and trying to steer the conversation away from his family and more to about my day which was the next red flag. We got into an argument and he walked away from the phone but didn’t hang up so I did and I ended up blocking him for 2 days before he showed up at my door apologizing up and down and swearing to never keep a secret from me again which I had believed. For the next 2 years that wasn’t the last I’d seen of Jane and I learned that Red and Jane were extremely close. (Idk if it’s a twin thing but they are just really close) But at multiple points in our relationship I thought they’ve been too close if that’s even possible. For example when we had planned an anniversary trip together and went we started discussing locations he wouldn’t agree to certain places because “Jane wouldn’t be comfortable with him going there.” Or “Jane wouldn’t like that.”
When I asked why it mattered what jane liked because it’s not like he was going, he said something along the lines of. “Just let it go.” Or would just ignore me till I started talking about a different place which threw off my flow for the rest of the planning. Or when he pushed back out trip for almost a month because he didn’t want to leave Jane alone. (Jane is autistic and possibly physically disabled which I swear is important but he’s not low functioning and even lives in his own with a job.) When I brought this up Red glared at me without saying anything but let it go after a while. This is only one example of their relationship coming between things we had planned but there are plenty more examples of them being physically close as well. (Cuddling togethe sitting extremely close to each other, Jane following Red around to the point something’s they walk in sync, feeding one another,hugging for extended periods of time, playing with each other’s hands/hair ext.)
I swear if they didn’t look so similar you’d think they were the ones dating. I won’t lie I’ve found myself being jealous/ disgusted at the way they treat each other but I had pushed it aside because I convinced myself that Red was just looking out for Jane. (Before you question that like I said while Jane isn’t behind mentally or anything you can see he struggles with a lot things like standing for long periods of time and often goes non verbal or only makes illegible noise that Red understands.) So I truly pushed my thoughts aside because I didn’t want to be seen as an overprotective or anything and it’s not like I have anything against Jane or anything but sometimes it’s just really fucking weird. But recently I’ve reached my limit when I went to Reds apartment and when I opened the door I saw janes phone on the counter. Which is really at weird because at the end of the day theyre family and that’s not weird but what was weird was that Jane nor Red were anywhere to be found.
I had walked around the apartment for a while till I got Reds bedroom and saw both of them laying in bed together (They weren’t naked or anything but they were like laying ontop on one another, like cuddling skin to skin whilst clothed from what I could see.) When I walked in a saw them next to each other all the memories of the way they had acted with eachother rushed into my head and I just assumed the worst and started screaming and cursing which got Reds attention and he immediately sat up and started screaming back at me asking me what I was scream about and we started a screaming match and I told him off about his weird behaviour with Jane and how brothers don’t act that way with each other until they are getting with eachother and he froze and just started at me and before he could say anything else I left his apartment and drove back home. (If jane had said anything I didn’t hear it over the screaming but idk)
I ended up telling my parents and they said that Im not overreacting but that something in there childhood definitely caused them to be so touchy but don’t believe that and I don’t know who the tell this to or what to do because I’m well aware that siblings don’t act that way and that something has to be going on but I don’t know how to talk to Red about it. I know my parents said otherwise but I can’t help but think im AH because I don’t let red explain. I don’t think I should bring this up to anyone close friends because of bias so I’m asking Reddit. What do I do???

I was a busboy at the Cocoanut Grove. That Saturday, the place was a heaving mass of humanity. Soldiers on leave, couples on dates, socialites, and gangsters—the club was their playground, and I was just an invisible part of the scenery. The air was a haze of smoke and alcohol, thick enough to choke on.
It was around 10:15 PM when I first saw him. A man in a dark, heavy coat, standing by the service door near the kitchen. Odd attire for such a warm, crowded club, but what really caught my eye was his face. His eyes were black pits, empty yet somehow full of a cold, malevolent hunger. His smile was a razor-thin line, cutting through his face like a wound. He gestured for me to come closer, but before I could move, he slipped into the kitchen.
Seconds later, the lights flickered, and fire erupted in the Melody Lounge. The flames didn’t spread—they leapt, as if alive, cutting off exits with a terrifying, unnatural precision. Panic ignited, and the crowd became a stampede. I tried to guide people to safety, but the fire seemed to anticipate our every move.
As I fought my way toward the kitchen, hoping for another way out, I witnessed horrors that will forever be etched into my memory.
The first was a young woman in a red dress. She had been dancing with her boyfriend moments before the fire broke out. When the flames began to spread, she tried to run, but the crowd was too thick. She stumbled and fell right in front of me. In the chaos, no one stopped to help her. The flames reached her, and her screams pierced through the cacophony. Her dress ignited, the fabric melting into her skin. I watched in horror as her flesh bubbled and peeled away, revealing raw, charred muscle beneath. Her eyes locked onto mine, pleading for help, before the fire consumed her completely. I couldn’t do anything but keep moving, the image of her agony seared into my mind.
Further ahead, near the bar, a middle-aged man, a regular at the club, was pounding on a locked door that led to the staff area. His hands were bloody, and his face was contorted in sheer panic. The smoke was thickening, making it hard to breathe. I saw him drop to his knees, clawing at his throat as he began to choke. His skin turned a sickly blue as he suffocated. The fire found him next, wrapping around his legs and creeping up his body. His screams were a mix of terror and pain as the flames cooked him alive, turning him into a grotesque statue of blackened bone and seared flesh. I wanted to help, but the fire was relentless, and I had to keep moving.
Near the back exit, which had been illegally locked to prevent people from sneaking in without paying, I saw a young couple—newlyweds celebrating their honeymoon. The husband was trying to shield his wife with his body as they pounded on the unyielding door. The fire closed in, and I heard their desperate cries for help. The flames licked at their legs, their screams merging into a single, horrifying wail. The husband’s back blistered and burst, his skin sloughing off in sheets. The wife’s hair ignited, and she clawed at her scalp in a futile attempt to extinguish the flames. They held each other as they burned, their bodies fusing together in a grotesque, charred embrace. I was frozen in place, unable to look away, until a surge of heat pushed me to keep moving.
I fought through the flames, dodging falling debris and stumbling over lifeless bodies. The heat was unbearable, the air thick with smoke and the stench of burning flesh. Finally, I found a side door and burst into the alley, gulping in the cool night air. As I looked back, the building was fully engulfed, the screams of the trapped mingling with an unholy laughter that echoed in my ears long after.
The official reports blamed faulty wiring and overcrowding, but I know better. The man in the dark coat—he wasn’t human. He was something ancient, something that revels in chaos and feeds on fear. Since that night, I’ve been plagued by dark dreams and even darker realities. Doors in my house creak open on their own, whispers drift through the night, and I see shadows moving just beyond my vision.
Every anniversary, the nightmares get worse, and I feel his presence more acutely. It’s as if the fire forged a bond between us, a bond I can’t break. I’ve tried to tell my story, but no one believes me. They think I’m just a traumatized survivor, driven mad by the horrors I witnessed.
But I know the truth. And now, so do you.
If you’re reading this, I’m begging, heed my warning. On the anniversary of the Cocoanut Grove fire, stay away from dark, crowded places. If you see a man in a dark coat with eyes like voids, don’t approach him. Run, and don’t look back.
Because once he marks you, there’s no escape. The flames will find you, and Hell will claim its due.
Tonight, as I write this, I can feel the heat building, the shadows lengthening. He’s close. I can hear his whisper just beyond the door. I don’t know if I’ll survive another anniversary, but if I don’t, remember my story.
Remember that some fires are more than just flames. They are gateways, and some doors should never be opened.

These past 2 years have been brutal, it's been L after L with no break.
I feel like a mouse in a maze that every time it approaches the exit is dragged back to the start by a hand from the sky.
It doesn't matter how much I try, the outcome is always the worst possible one.
I've gone from agnostic to full on believer because I don't think someone can be this unlucky without some almighty being involved in it.
I now fully believe God exists and either:

1. He is actively punishing me
2. He has left me stranded

   
Will keep it short since I know you hoes like reading this kind of shit:
 
Around 2 years ago I was leasing a horse, and giving it my all, I was earning an entry-level salary in a comfy remote work living with my parents. Keeping the horse was costing me pretty much my full salary. I didn't go out and did anything except lifting, running, riding and working.
For almost a year I was the happiest I had ever been, I literally jumped out of bed excited to live the day, I would work 8-4, lift in my home gym and go visit my horse, either riding, or just being with him, during the time I had him I didn't go a single day without seeing him.
Of course living like this means that I don't have the most social life or friends circle, but I didn't care since every hour of my life was busy.
My plan for the year was training and competing and then in September changing jobs and buying the horse, but in July the horse was injured, I didn't get the best veterinary advice and didn't know what to do, I was being drained for a horse I couldn't even ride or enjoy, after all those months of hard work and discipline, for some reason the owner got mad, and petty sold him behind my back.
During this time, my highschool best friend started regaining contact and started meeting with me and his gf, they gave me a lot of support during those weeks, against all odds, I nailed an interview for a high-paying job that would've allowed me to buy the horse and maintain it comfortably.
I was still too hurt from what had happened, so I just chilled for a few months, saving money, and hanging out with my friend and his gf, and lifting and running, I was at my physical peak, I was lifting heavier than ever, running faster and longer, I was optimistic for the future, I just needed time to heal and I had the means to do so, social life, earning money and physical activity.
 
Fast forward to December and I receive a cryptic message from my friend's GF saying that she wasn't going to be here for my birthday (we met the previous day) because my dumbass friend just broke up with her.
That basically destroyed my little social life since they were living in the city, and my friend disappeared to be with his new GF.
I tried to comfort her and be there for her (wasn't attracted and even if I were it wouldn't be right to take advantage of the situation).
The months of just working and lifting allowed me to save enough to start looking to buy my own horse, I was still hurting from the whole situation, and being alone, but still I was just lifting heavy, running, walking my dog, keeping myself busy.
In February after trying and vetting some horses, I found one that seemed promising. I bought a very expensive veterinary exam, and he passed it, allegedly, I buy the horse.
 
Long story short, barely 3 weeks into ownership, I started noticing pain and weird stuff that shouldn't be happening since I started with very soft work, a few weeks of going through 3 different vets, and basically the horse had a life-long injury that the first vet didn't catch in the exam, and basically it was done for, I was devastated, I tried some solutions but they we're not effective, it was over.
During those months, my friend's ex-gf started coming to visit me, we slept together (no sex), we talked every day, I gave her presents, one would say what I did was love bombing her, but to me It was just being there giving support, for her it turned into a situationship.
I still had the horse, I couldn't selling him while he was untrained, and I still had a bit of faith in the vet's advice, and then, suddenly, my knee started hurting, I was lucky that in my new job I had private insurance, so I could immediately go to the orthopedist and do an MRI without the long ass waits of the public health care (up to a year for the MRI), and lo and behold, torn meniscus, it rapidly went from "pain while running" to "some days I can't even fucking walk", I had to stop riding, paying my trainer to ride my horse since I needed to sell him, I had to stop running, I had to stop doing any leg gym exercises.
I didn't want to do the surgery since what I read online was very contradictory.
 
Because shit can always get worse, one day I was alone with my parents (we also live with my brother and grandma), and I notice the vibes being off, I ask “what the fuck is your problem?” and they confess that my father doesn’t like my mom anymore, well, not to get into too much detail but since then I’ve had to endure watching my mom cry, they get into arguments all the time, just awful, thing is I was already so drained from my personal bullshit that after the initial shock, It didn’t pain me too much, they just keep living together, although I hear them arguing from time to time.
During those months my ex-friend’s ex-gf kept catching feelings for me, and my autistic ass couldn't really read the situation so I made it worse. Finally she asked me if I was going serious with her or if she could go on about her life. I said that I didn't see her as my partner, and since then she got a boyfriend and our friendship went to shit.
 
I finally sold the horse, my life got extremely bored.
I decided to do the surgery since I couldn't do any of the things I enjoyed, running, riding, whatever, but I had a trip in January with her so I had to postpone it until then, for those months all I could do was going for walks like an old man, and hit the gym (all chest no legs), I was going kinda hard tho, since I knew that during the months of recovery I would lose a lot of muscle and I wanted to go in my best form, during those months I acquired my best physique ever, for the first time, after years of being constant, I liked how my body looked.
The trip was a mistake, she nagged me every minute of it, I could tell she had only gone because it was already paid for, I had postponed the surgery 2 months just to have a horrible weekend.
 
I did the surgery and the first bad news came, they couldn't fix the broken part of the meniscus, so they took it out, this was the worst possible outcome since it would mean a shorter recovery, but the probabilities of arthritis in the future were higher, off to a good start.
2 weeks later I start going to rehab, during those weeks nobody came to visit me, well, my friend did, only to talk shit on his new coworker (during those months he would only message me to talk shit about coworkers or work), nobody else, not the situationship, not my trainer, nobody.
Speaking about the situationship, after the trip, she stopped messaging me, and even replying at all. I thought, well, there it goes, I’ve lost “not being an unopened chat” privilege.
Some boring months of rehab, working the job that I started to dread, and doing the boring ass knee exercises at home, and then, suddenly a glimmer of hope.
 
I start being treated by a “new” physio, but turns out she had been on sick leave for the same reason as me, she tore her meniscus, during those first 3-4 sessions we talked and talked for the whole hour, she was just perfect, around my age, funny, cute, was active, played sports, had a nice body, she lives like 5 minutes walk from my house.
I immediately fell in love like I had never before in my life, and that’s when it came to me, this was it, every bad thing that happened to me has come to this, to meeting this girl, everything made sense, If I had my surgery earlier I would not have met her because she would be on sick leave. My broken meniscus, my lame horse, every bad thing that had happened to me had led me to her.
So I take my autistic ass, and since I felt like we had something cool going on I ask “Hey, I think you’re very interesting and cute and would like to know you better, can I have your number so we can meet and go for a drink some day?” and she actually did give it to me, I asked for her number instead of her IG because I didn’t want to play any game, I thought she wouldn’t give me her number unless she was interested in me, I was ecstatic.
I start texting her and after refusing to meet a few times (with actually convincing excuses) I ask her “Hey if you don't want its fine I won't bother you anymore, just tell me” and she basically told me that she didn’t want to break the physio-patient barrier, I didn’t understand anything but I didn’t want to make it weirder since she is still treating me so I just accepted it.
 
The thing is, I know where she lives, I have to walk past her apartment whenever I go for a walk, drive to town, I get reminded constantly, moving on is very hard, I really thought she was for me, I thought she was finally the reward for all my suffering, but turns out she's just part of the punishment, I legit had a religious revelation, every single bad thing that had happened, God made it so I went and met her, my knee injury, having to sell the horse, losing my friends, no way it was a coincidence.
 
Now that I know that she is not for me, not even as a friend, I have nothing, the knee recovery is not going well, I was supposed to be a-ok in 6 weeks, It’s been 3 months and I still can’t even go for a walk without swelling and pain, I can’t workout because the knee exercises take a long ass time and I feel like they’re not doing shit, I don’t have friends to meet and take my mind off it, every few weeks I have to see my mum weeping around the house because my father is a piece of shit.
 
And to top it all, I just started having similar pain in the good knee, so there is a possibility that even If I hadn’t done shit, it may be injured too, this shit just doesn’t end, it just fucking never ends.
     
TLDR: Everything that has ever given me pleasure or made me happy has been taken away from me. I went from getting out of bed full of hope and enthusiasm to sleeping through my alarms because the only thing I can do is sit in front of a screen. I’ve been having the worst day of my life every day for the past 2 years, after everything I’ve worked hard for and all the sacrifices I’ve made.

Frank could have slept in the trailer, but he preferred being in the van under current circumstances. He could scare off anyone who got a bright idea to try and steal the vehicle, for one thing. And if something happened in the motel room, if Jenna and Mike needed help, he was closer.
Not that any of that seemed likely; this place seemed dead as hell.
The motel was a not-too-busted-down place. The town it sat at the edge of was a wide-spot-in-the-road type. An out-of-the-way hamlet, some might call it. To Frank's parents, the town would have seemed ideal. Small enough to seem homey and friendly — and Christian, of course — but large enough to have the basic amenities: a pool of suckers for Mama's MLM sales and other schemes, people looking for someone like Papa who could at least seem to fix anything for cheap, and an attitude that led people to mind their own business, even with new folks and strangers, leaving no one too inclined to call in Youth Services or the equivalent at every sign of a bruise or a scrape or bleeding backs or broken limbs.
They'd done a lot of midnight runners out of places where people showed some level of neighborly concern. Left a lot of things behind in rented houses and apartments.
The best time had been when Frank was between the ages of five and seven. They lived with Grampa and Gramma Schnedeker then, and all the kids who were old enough got to go to proper school for a while, like school-school. Grampa Schnedeker needed a lot of looking after, and Gramma wanted the kids out of the house at least a few hours a day so as not to disturb him too much.
Since they got to go to school, Frank and his siblings right on either side actually learned to properly read and do the beginnings of math and such. Mama said all they needed to read was the Bible, and Papa said math was only important as far as helping him measure and cut lumber and pipe for projects, but still, the kids learned. And when Grampa Schnedeker died and the family moved on, the kids who had got school for a while tried to keep up and to teach things to the little ones.
That got stopped pretty quick, and Mama took over the "lessons," which really just meant she handed the kids their little workbooks every morning after breakfast and left them to work — QUIETLY as she always demanded — while she went and schmoozed sales or whatever. All the boys stopped having any "lessons" after 10 years old. That was when they would start going to work with Papa.
All the boys besides Frank, anyway. But that was before anyone besides Frank even knew that Frank was a boy.
And boy, had that been Hell on Earth when he finally outright told them he was a boy. Mama went to scream-praying like she tended to, and Papa tried to beat Frank to death, and then he did other things that really almost did kill Frank, but luckily Susie called 911.
It was Hell after, too. All that time in the hospital, and the stuff was on the news, and then Frank was sent to foster parents practically across the country. Those first ones were okay, except they also didn't believe Frank was a boy. They just tried to send him to a conversion therapist, who somehow luckily realized that there was no converting Frank and tipped off the social workers. Frank got new foster parents who accepted him, helped him get a name change, and even let him stay with them after he aged out of the foster system, until he could get his GED and see about college.
And then there was college, with his new name and his new clothes and finally being himself, and then the year of college, he met Jenna, and everything since then had been almost golden.
He could not sleep, crunched up in the driver's seat of the van with his head full of memories, so instead he just let it all play, the good and the bad, until it was almost sunrise and he needed to piss like a racehorse.
Then he got out of the van and went to knock at the door of the motel room. After he peed, he would ask Jenna if she minded taking the first shift driving today.
Gotta be up early and get everything together. Danna hated cooking, so Derick made breakfast, got the kids settled, and carried a plate back to his wife, still ensconced in the big bed in the back of the RV.
God had said that the wife should be the one to tend to the home and children, had he not? And yet, if the wife was unable to do some part of that, surely the man, in his free moments, should try and help. Thus, Derick would cook and would see that the children had breakfast, since Danna had such trouble sleeping, and then had trouble waking in the morning, especially when she was pregnant.
And if Danna's mother had never taught her to cook, well, that was the sin of Peggy Lynn Sooks, not her daughter. God would punish Peggy for her failures as a wife and mother.
Other than the sleeping trouble and the aversion to some of the arts of housewifery, Danna was excellent. She was really smart, figuring out how to put together all the social media stuff. And she was always ready to go whenever God told Derick they needed to pick up and move on. She greeted each trip, long or short, with joy, and she treated her other wifely obligations with equal joy.
Perhaps too much joy, sometimes. Danna, for example, took great joy in the act of procreation. That was good, of course, for they were to be fruitful and multiply and spread their family over the Earth to carry the Truth of God's message.
But the act of procreation, sacred and holy as it might be, was never something Derick greatly enjoyed. He did not, as he knew some husbands did, press his wife to fulfill her duties every night. In fact, their marriage had not been conssumated for nearly two months after the wedding, simply because Derick was disinclined. It took Danna reminding him that God's holy word also said a husband should satisfy his wife, and then they finally joined fully in their union.
Still, they did not do it often, unless Danna pressed Derick. As the years went on, she did so more and more, and so he let her have her desire. It was his duty as a husband.
Today, they would stay here. God had said they would be here about a week. Danna seemed happy with that, and the children seemed pleased as well.
They always seemed happiest when the family stopped wandering a while.
Derick had tried to explain to the children why they moved around so much, and why they must keep doing so. He thought perhaps the oldest two boys were beginning to understand. The little ones were still far from such wisdom, but there was time yet.
There was time.
3 Table of Contents

These past 2 years have been brutal, it's been L after L with no break.
I feel like a mouse in a maze that every time it approaches the exit is dragged back to the start by a hand from the sky.
It doesn't matter how much I try, the outcome is always the worst possible one.
I've gone from agnostic to full on believer because I don't think someone can be this unlucky without some almighty being involved in it.
I now fully believe God exists and either:

1. He is actively punishing me
2. He has left me stranded

   
Will keep it short since I know you hoes like reading this kind of shit:
 
Around 2 years ago I was leasing a horse, and giving it my all, I was earning an entry-level salary in a comfy remote work living with my parents. Keeping the horse was costing me pretty much my full salary. I didn't go out and did anything except lifting, running, riding and working.
For almost a year I was the happiest I had ever been, I literally jumped out of bed excited to live the day, I would work 8-4, lift in my home gym and go visit my horse, either riding, or just being with him, during the time I had him I didn't go a single day without seeing him.
Of course living like this means that I don't have the most social life or friends circle, but I didn't care since every hour of my life was busy.
My plan for the year was training and competing and then in September changing jobs and buying the horse, but in July the horse was injured, I didn't get the best veterinary advice and didn't know what to do, I was being drained for a horse I couldn't even ride or enjoy, after all those months of hard work and discipline, for some reason the owner got mad, and petty sold him behind my back.
During this time, my highschool best friend started regaining contact and started meeting with me and his gf, they gave me a lot of support during those weeks, against all odds, I nailed an interview for a high-paying job that would've allowed me to buy the horse and maintain it comfortably.
I was still too hurt from what had happened, so I just chilled for a few months, saving money, and hanging out with my friend and his gf, and lifting and running, I was at my physical peak, I was lifting heavier than ever, running faster and longer, I was optimistic for the future, I just needed time to heal and I had the means to do so, social life, earning money and physical activity.
 
Fast forward to December and I receive a cryptic message from my friend's GF saying that she wasn't going to be here for my birthday (we met the previous day) because my dumbass friend just broke up with her.
That basically destroyed my little social life since they were living in the city, and my friend disappeared to be with his new GF.
I tried to comfort her and be there for her (wasn't attracted and even if I were it wouldn't be right to take advantage of the situation).
The months of just working and lifting allowed me to save enough to start looking to buy my own horse, I was still hurting from the whole situation, and being alone, but still I was just lifting heavy, running, walking my dog, keeping myself busy.
In February after trying and vetting some horses, I found one that seemed promising. I bought a very expensive veterinary exam, and he passed it, allegedly, I buy the horse.
 
Long story short, barely 3 weeks into ownership, I started noticing pain and weird stuff that shouldn't be happening since I started with very soft work, a few weeks of going through 3 different vets, and basically the horse had a life-long injury that the first vet didn't catch in the exam, and basically it was done for, I was devastated, I tried some solutions but they we're not effective, it was over.
During those months, my friend's ex-gf started coming to visit me, we slept together (no sex), we talked every day, I gave her presents, one would say what I did was love bombing her, but to me It was just being there giving support, for her it turned into a situationship.
I still had the horse, I couldn't selling him while he was untrained, and I still had a bit of faith in the vet's advice, and then, suddenly, my knee started hurting, I was lucky that in my new job I had private insurance, so I could immediately go to the orthopedist and do an MRI without the long ass waits of the public health care (up to a year for the MRI), and lo and behold, torn meniscus, it rapidly went from "pain while running" to "some days I can't even fucking walk", I had to stop riding, paying my trainer to ride my horse since I needed to sell him, I had to stop running, I had to stop doing any leg gym exercises.
I didn't want to do the surgery since what I read online was very contradictory.
 
Because shit can always get worse, one day I was alone with my parents (we also live with my brother and grandma), and I notice the vibes being off, I ask “what the fuck is your problem?” and they confess that my father doesn’t like my mom anymore, well, not to get into too much detail but since then I’ve had to endure watching my mom cry, they get into arguments all the time, just awful, thing is I was already so drained from my personal bullshit that after the initial shock, It didn’t pain me too much, they just keep living together, although I hear them arguing from time to time.
During those months my ex-friend’s ex-gf kept catching feelings for me, and my autistic ass couldn't really read the situation so I made it worse. Finally she asked me if I was going serious with her or if she could go on about her life. I said that I didn't see her as my partner, and since then she got a boyfriend and our friendship went to shit.
 
I finally sold the horse, my life got extremely bored.
I decided to do the surgery since I couldn't do any of the things I enjoyed, running, riding, whatever, but I had a trip in January with her so I had to postpone it until then, for those months all I could do was going for walks like an old man, and hit the gym (all chest no legs), I was going kinda hard tho, since I knew that during the months of recovery I would lose a lot of muscle and I wanted to go in my best form, during those months I acquired my best physique ever, for the first time, after years of being constant, I liked how my body looked.
The trip was a mistake, she nagged me every minute of it, I could tell she had only gone because it was already paid for, I had postponed the surgery 2 months just to have a horrible weekend.
 
I did the surgery and the first bad news came, they couldn't fix the broken part of the meniscus, so they took it out, this was the worst possible outcome since it would mean a shorter recovery, but the probabilities of arthritis in the future were higher, off to a good start.
2 weeks later I start going to rehab, during those weeks nobody came to visit me, well, my friend did, only to talk shit on his new coworker (during those months he would only message me to talk shit about coworkers or work), nobody else, not the situationship, not my trainer, nobody.
Speaking about the situationship, after the trip, she stopped messaging me, and even replying at all. I thought, well, there it goes, I’ve lost “not being an unopened chat” privilege.
Some boring months of rehab, working the job that I started to dread, and doing the boring ass knee exercises at home, and then, suddenly a glimmer of hope.
 
I start being treated by a “new” physio, but turns out she had been on sick leave for the same reason as me, she tore her meniscus, during those first 3-4 sessions we talked and talked for the whole hour, she was just perfect, around my age, funny, cute, was active, played sports, had a nice body, she lives like 5 minutes walk from my house.
I immediately fell in love like I had never before in my life, and that’s when it came to me, this was it, every bad thing that happened to me has come to this, to meeting this girl, everything made sense, If I had my surgery earlier I would not have met her because she would be on sick leave. My broken meniscus, my lame horse, every bad thing that had happened to me had led me to her.
So I take my autistic ass, and since I felt like we had something cool going on I ask “Hey, I think you’re very interesting and cute and would like to know you better, can I have your number so we can meet and go for a drink some day?” and she actually did give it to me, I asked for her number instead of her IG because I didn’t want to play any game, I thought she wouldn’t give me her number unless she was interested in me, I was ecstatic.
I start texting her and after refusing to meet a few times (with actually convincing excuses) I ask her “Hey if you don't want its fine I won't bother you anymore, just tell me” and she basically told me that she didn’t want to break the physio-patient barrier, I didn’t understand anything but I didn’t want to make it weirder since she is still treating me so I just accepted it.
 
The thing is, I know where she lives, I have to walk past her apartment whenever I go for a walk, drive to town, I get reminded constantly, moving on is very hard, I really thought she was for me, I thought she was finally the reward for all my suffering, but turns out she's just part of the punishment, I legit had a religious revelation, every single bad thing that had happened, God made it so I went and met her, my knee injury, having to sell the horse, losing my friends, no way it was a coincidence.
 
Now that I know that she is not for me, not even as a friend, I have nothing, the knee recovery is not going well, I was supposed to be a-ok in 6 weeks, It’s been 3 months and I still can’t even go for a walk without swelling and pain, I can’t workout because the knee exercises take a long ass time and I feel like they’re not doing shit, I don’t have friends to meet and take my mind off it, every few weeks I have to see my mum weeping around the house because my father is a piece of shit.
 
And to top it all, I just started having similar pain in the good knee, so there is a possibility that even If I hadn’t done shit, it may be injured too, this shit just doesn’t end, it just fucking never ends.
     
TLDR: Everything that has ever given me pleasure or made me happy has been taken away from me. I went from getting out of bed full of hope and enthusiasm to sleeping through my alarms because the only thing I can do is sit in front of a screen. I’ve been having the worst day of my life every day for the past 2 years, after everything I’ve worked hard for and all the sacrifices I’ve made.

As the summer break approaches for Parliament and MP head back to their riding s, I’ve thought up some interesting ways to protest mass immigration.
One idea I have been playing with as a means to protest mass immigration, is to make up fake job fairs at MP and MPP’s local consistency offices as well as the Head Offices of corporations that are benefiting from mass immigration or support the centaury initiative.
Spam a bunch of signs around saying “Job Fair, Indians only” or something along that lines.
Second idea is a bit more cheeky. Put up signs and posts online saying “White Women looking for Indian man” followed by the phone number and or email address of your MP or MPPS constituency office and corporations supporting the century initiative HQ as well. I kinda got this idea from Unifor when they told a bunch of people to phone Doug Ford(Don’t give out personal phone numbers of MP’s)
All three party's are fair game for this, since they all support mass immigration. This is meant to rub their noses in the mess they have created over the decades, and to be honest I think a lot of our representatives live in a bubble where they don’t see the impacts of their shitty dissensions.
What not to do
Do NOT post personal or home phone numbers. Do NOT post their home addresses.
Another Idea I have been playing with is to start discouraging people from coming to Canada or any other western countries for that matter by either making posts online/on social media and buying up news paper space in other countries. This also would also take effort and a lot of people(and abit of money) to pull off, and you would need people fluent in the language(s) of the target country as well. The Danish government does a similar thing to discourage people from immigrating to Denmark, if our government wont do this, then we should.

I am 32 years old, married for 6.5 years, and I just had my trans awakening in March 2024 (MtF). I went through my whole life generally apathetic and just following society's guidelines for what life is supposed to look like: finish high school, go to college, get a good job, find a girlfriend, marry her, have kids, retire comfortably, die.
I thought I was acing life because I was naturally good with academia, and that was all my life had to be for 13-14 years. As for relationships, I had a fairly strong sex drive, and my desire for a partner was strictly governed by that expectation. My first relationship in high school was all sex. It ended with her cheating on me right before college.
Well there goes one of my checkboxes on the life list. Let me just focus on college so I can do the next thing: get a good job. But oh no, it's already senior year and I never even tried meeting a potential partner. How will I have time once I'm a working adult? I better create an online dating profile and stick with the first girl I match with.
Good enough was good enough, and 4 years later my parents pry and ask me what my intentions are. Guess it's time to get married. Things felt good; weddings are fun. I was doing all the right things. 2 years in and it's time for the next checkbox: children.
But there was a problem. We still never figured out exactly what, but it was likely a combination of poor sperm quality and my wife's migraine medication that constricts blood flow, making it impossible for an egg to implant. We tried 3 rounds of IUI and one IVF. Nothing. Looking back I thank the universe that we got stopped here, but at the time I was having an existential crisis. The plan was ruined. What do I do now?
I started going to therapy. I talked about all this, and eventually another secret that had been eating at me for decades: I had a fetish for gender transformation. It was always in the background. My shameful kink. But it started coming out more now that the life plan was broken. After a while I started to wonder if it was really just a fetish, and then on 17Mar24 I posted that question to reddit...and my egg shattered.
Now my therapist tells me how happy and alive I seem when I talk about my progress. She says I'm finally experiencing what it's like to choose my destiny. I didn't even realize I had a "life plan" before. All that I wrote previously in this post is with hindsight. I've never actually "chosen" to do anything. Not with my heart or any passion anyway.
And now that shatters another big part of my life: my marriage. It was based on a lie, one that I had told myself my entire life. I feel like it's finally time to face divorce, but I'm still scared. How do I throw away 11 years of history with this person? Sure it wasn't all good, but it wasn't all bad either. We have inside jokes, we make each other laugh, but there was always this underlying tension that something wasn't right. I don't think I ever loved her. The highs are mid and the lows are deep dark trenches.
I post this after a huge fight we had last night. I have my own girl clothes, but I wanted to try on some of my wife's. She gave me permission. I even tried some on in front of her to get feedback. Everything seems OK. Later she gets drunk and starts getting agitated at me. Turns out she didn't like seeing me in her clothes because she's jealous; she has put on a bit of weight, which I really don't mind but it's a huge deal for her with a history of anorexia, and seeing me look skinny in her old clothes was too much. I told her that wasn't fair and she should have just been up front with me.
This has also been a consistent issue. She claims to be supportive, and often is...when sober. She tends to drink her problems away, which I also find extremely unattractive. But the truth comes out of the bottle. I don't think she can handle this, and I also don't think it's fair to her that I am starting to realize that I don't even love her. She claims to love me, but I think she's scared of being alone. She has no friends and almost no family; both parents dead, grandma's on her way out, and she doesn't even like the rest of her family. She doesn't even like my family or friends that much. She hates people. Everyone but the current relationship. She's actually said so herself. Big red flag that I missed for years.
tldr: I married a person I didn't love because of societal expectations, and now that I'm trans I realize I don't have to conform to those expectations, and it seems to be the end of this marriage

Had a D&C in March for a MMC. Had one cycle and we started trying again. Slight positive on the test 9&10 DPO. Was hoping 11 DPO would be a little more definitive and instead it was even lighter. So I am feeling pretty confident that this is a CP.
I’m just so confused and I don’t understand. Did the D&C cause this? Did we try again too early? Is now the point where I seek fertility counseling or treatments? I feel like something is just wrong with me and I am terrified. Every time I bring my concerns up to my doctor, I am met with medical gaslighting and playing down of my feelings and research. I have an appointment with a new doctor Friday. Any other questions I should ask?
Idk just feel frustrated and confused and any advice someone can offer, I’d appreciate…

For some context, a tech-priest has discovered a Genestealer Cult on a Mechanicus world and has decided to use them for his own ends. He tells them that he will wipe them out unless they perform an uprising during the national "Ascension Day" celebrations, where he will use the chaos they create to seize power for himself.
The Magus of the cult Claress is old and decrepit, she feels that they missed the time they were actually meant to rise up decades ago and the cult has atrophied since then. Worse, after a series of failed raids their best fighters were killed or imprisoned. She knows they have no chance against the crack Mechanicus troops who have pressed the world for generations but facing no other option the Cult begins its preparations and sends messages to the uncorrupted workers unions and factories that have pledged their support if an uprising against the Mechanicus happens (not knowing that they're dealing with a cult).
I like this section as while it falls into the modern 40k novel habit of listing a bunch of codex units and describing how they fight, I think that it does a good job of portraying the awkward beginnings of an uprising, where nobody actually knows what will happen that spirals into the Genestealer Cult suddenly realising that if they work together they might have a chance.

‘This is the end of us,’ she hissed. ‘The priest will use us, and then he will destroy us. Or imprison us in his jars and make us his experiments. All our ways, our traditions, our faith. He will melt it out of us. There will be nothing left but his science.’
‘Child…’ Claress repeated.
‘We should flee,’ Davien almost shouted at her. ‘All of us, each to a different hole. We should abandon this city. We should carry our words and our blood to other places. We’re finished here! I’m sorry, magus, I’m sorry.’ And she was simultaneously weeping and incandescent with rage. At herself, at Triskellian, at Claress. ‘I have ruined us! I’m a traitor. Punish me, magus. Destroy me.’
‘You have listened to the lies of the enemy, it is true,’ Claress said softly. Her hand fell on Davien’s shoulder, a husk of a thing, no weight to it. ‘And you may be punished in time, that is also true. But for now, you are one of us, and you must play your part in what is to come.’
‘But it’s a sham!’ Davien exclaimed. ‘It’s some Taskmaster plan, some infighting between them. It isn’t the time!’ Struck by a sudden hope, she searched the old woman’s face. ‘Is it? Is all this… the Emperor’s plan for us? Can it be?’ And before she could hear any empty comforts, she rushed on. ‘Tell me truly, magus. Please tell me.’
The sad calm on Claress’ face was heartbreaking. ‘I don’t know, child. I wish I could give you all the grand certainties in the world. I wish I could give you the words of fire and faith I’d speak in the chapel, of the Many-Handed Emperor and His angels. But that is what faith is for, Davien.’ She sagged, sinking in on herself a little more. ‘Take me to my chamber. I must rest before tomorrow.’
‘You can’t take to the streets, magus. Not you.’
‘I must. We all shall play our part. We shall triumph together, or we shall fall. I do not want to be left alone if my kin are taken from me.’
Davien led her deeper into the maze of cellars. All around, the Congregation were in a frenzy of preparation. The building was haemorrhaging the faithful as they rushed out to carry the magus’ words across all the poor districts of the city. Out there, all Davien’s distant kin would be arming themselves. And the others, all those who weren’t blood but who had suffered beneath the crushing iron boot of the tech-priests, they’d be gathering too. All of them cast against the iron walls of the Hollow Men.
When she had Claress back to the old woman’s bed, she helped her lie down, hearing joints click and crack. The magus lay there, staring at the low ceiling, then shifted her head to look at the painting of the Emperor on the far wall. It was flaking now, half-obscured with grime. A depiction from the time of the Great-Aunts and Uncles, when the blood of the Emperor was stronger in them, so that none of the Congregation could show their faces for fear of being known for what they were. A figure with four arms: two human hands and two with radiant claws like crescent moons. An elliptical head split by a great benevolent smile that was all teeth. The eyes were beatific, murderous, inhuman. Davien had stared at the image often, feeling out its contradictions, letting them speak to the human and the inhuman within her. It frightened her; it inspired her.
‘I hear them singing to me.’ Claress’ dry voice rose to her. ‘The angels. They throng the cold void. And I sing back. I tell them, We are here. We are faithful. We’re waiting for you. And their great wings carry them across the freezing spaces, through the perilous labyrinth of the warp. They are coming, Davien. They tell me, We hear you. We come for you. Only have faith, and you shall become part of us. The Blessed Union, child. Our destiny.’ She laughed softly, coughed, shuddering with each dry convulsion. ‘They came from the stars, our ancestors. The first on Morod to bear our blood was an angel’s child, and so we are children of angels. But weaker, each generation. I lack the strength of the Aunts, the might of the Great-Aunts. I am too human to be truly strong. But I hear them, Davien. They are so beautiful. There is nothing on this ugly world to compare to them. I need to see them with my own eyes, before I grow too old.’
And Davien, one of the diminished survivors of a younger generation still, thought about how thin her own blood was, how little of the angel remained. ‘Do you think the priests’ Ascension Day will be our ascension too? Or will all our blood just end up on the streets and in that priest’s laboratory?’
Claress’ yellow gaze switched to her. ‘Faith is all that we have, when the machinery of this world comes to crush us. I hear the angels. They come to us, but space is vast and the warp is a trickster. All we can do is believe that the Many-Handed Emperor will not abandon His faithful in their time of need. That He is a true divinity, beyond the enthroned corpse the machine-priests worship. Our god lives, Davien. Our god is life, life in all its many forms and guises. Theirs is dust and ancient mechanisms. We must prevail, or we give the universe over to entropy and death. Only by our truths can life eternal survive and spread throughout the cosmos. Do you understand me, child? Do you have faith?’
And Davien thought, We are going to die tomorrow, on the streets and in their arena. This is not the true uprising we were promised, it is some priest’s gambit. But she couldn’t hold to those thoughts against the old woman’s rustle of a voice. It got under her skin. It spoke to all those services in the buried chapel. It spoke to her blood.
Easy to have faith when you were strong, after all. And what was the value of it, then? But they stood under the steel hammer of the tech-priests, and they would rise up nonetheless. Let Triskellian think it was all to his plan. The Congregation would rise because it was their time. Who said that he was using them? And even though, intellectually, she knew the truth, she still felt that fire in her, that burned away all doubt.
‘I believe, magus,’ she said fiercely. ‘Tell me what I must do.’
The next dawn, even as the tech-priests were attending their early Ascension Day devotions, the streets of the South Chasm districts erupted into armed uprising.
Davien saw it from the rooftops, crossing from building to building by the gantries, bridges and ropes that the skitarii periodically brought down but the locals always strung up again. All night the Congregation’s messengers had been running like sparks through the poorer districts of the city, seeing which claves would catch their fires. All of the true faithful rose up without question, of course. Right now she could only see the more inarguably human of them, those marked only by a pallidity of skin, patches of chitinous scales, unblinking yellow eyes perhaps. No unusual traits on as poisonous a world as this. Behind and within the walls of the tenements, though, the older generations of the god-touched would be stirring; would be eager. They had waited all their long lives, after all. They had hidden away as their younger offspring had busied themselves in the world, unable to show their distorted faces. They had known only the burning fire of their faith, and now that faith told them, Rise!
The streets were thronging with people, just ordinary people. And yet, not ordinary, for in many of those bodies a few drops of divine blood ran. But they were not the superhuman figures of Imperial myth. Not the Adeptus Astartes that had been made into little gods; not the tech-priests, elevated by machinery until they had forgotten what it was like to have two living feet on the ground. People, with nothing but their faith, and what tools and weapons they could scavenge or make themselves. And today they would attempt to wrest control of their destiny from those who had ordered and limited their whole lives.
And they would die, she knew. Heavy-hearted she watched them muster, factorum workers clapping each other on the shoulder, hard greetings called across the crowd. There were banners there, and some were of the Many-Handed Emperor Scattering His Angels Upon the Faithful, but there were others, too. Crude standards celebrating this ward or that factorum, this mining crew, even one for the staff of a workers’ refectory. There was an air of festival, just as if they were celebrating the damned Ascension Day after all.
And then the first skitarii came into sight. Davien knew she should be away by now, off on the errand that Claress had given her, but she couldn’t. She had to see if the whole venture would collapse into tragedy.
A wedge of red-clad cybernetic soldiers ordered itself precisely across the street ahead of the gathering mob. Behind them, a pair of dragoons stalked in, towering over the soldiers’ heads. Their riders couched forked lances snapping with sparks, even as the servitor beneath them, merged with the workings of the machine, directed the Ironstrider’s jerky motions. The crowd stilled, seeing all those carbines levelled at them, knowing more would be on the way.
The skitarii alpha called out, voice amplified until it rattled Davien’s skull like thunder. ‘By the order of the Fabricator General, you are required to disperse. There will be no second warning.’
And Claress stepped forwards from the ranks of the crowd, standing ahead of them, raising her staff. Somehow her high, clear voice carried even to Davien. ‘Faith and freedom! Faith for the true Emperor’s blood! Freedom from the yoke!’
The skitarii opened fire.
Davien screamed when they did it, curled away from the blaze and heat of it, knowing this was surely the end even as the uprising began. But in the echo of the shots she dared look, and saw Claress somehow untouched, standing with bodies to her left and right, the faithful who had put themselves in harm’s way. And not so many bodies, even, not compared to the vast mass of humanity that was packing the street. Angry humanity, crammed with grievances.
Claress’ voice called out again, and now she was sounding the charge. Davien saw members of the Congregation break into a run on either side of her, funnelling through the streets in a great rush, wielding hammers and prybars and power-cutters, emptying their shotguns and automatics into the skitarii wedge. The dragoons were in motion instantly, striding over the heads of their human-sized allies, accelerating into a counter-charge with lances lowered. Davien saw the first connect, its huge iron feet sending insurgents flying even as the lance swept an arc through the crowd, charring and burning. Then an eye-rending beam of light seared into it. One of the mining crews had a rock laser set up on the rooftop across from Davien and they drew lines of molten steel across the dragoon’s chassis before striking something vital.
In an instant the walking machine flashed incandescently and exploded, laying waste to the nearest fighters in a horrible toll of shrapnel and shredded flesh. For everyone left standing, though, that was the signal to rush forwards. Moments later the skitarii were giving ground, shooting and falling back. Or just falling, dragged down by the crowd who saw them as nothing more than the tools of their oppressors.
And then Davien was off, roof to roof, eyes open for when the tech-priests’ more subtle instruments decided the higher reaches were their territory. There would be rangers up here sniping down at the crowd soon enough. There would be the murderous rust-stalkers trying to flank the Congregation to bring down its leaders with their blades and claws. She had to be ahead of all of that. She had work to do, a task entrusted to her by the magus herself.
She shadowed the forerunners of the mob until they exploded out before Nilhetum Square, where the rail depot was. More of the Palatium’s troops were disembarking even as everyone arrived, hurriedly evacuating the train and taking up position to defend it. And if the Congregation wished to reach the Palatium, they needed to control the train line, and they needed to take it swiftly before the tech-priests began destroying their own infrastructure to deny it to the rebels.
There were more than just skitarii out there. She saw the low, trundling shapes of Kataphron servitors grinding down ramps from flatbed carriages, armoured human head, torso and arms set into a mechanised assault vehicle that was also their lower body. Davien felt a flare of rage at the tech-priests and their meddling. They took the divine flesh and carved it and pared it down, merged it with their devices. Nothing could be left alone. Nothing had any value until it was incorporated into their machines. And, on a grander scale, no individual lives had worth unless they were components of the wider priestly engine that spanned the human universe and enslaved everything it touched to their cold metal vision.
The Kataphron were terrors, nigh invulnerable to the weapons the foot-soldiers of the Congregation had brought, but by now the rioters had been given the chance to bring in their own big guns. With a choking roar and a belch of smoke one of the big quarry trucks raced out of a side street, already up to its lumbering top speed. It was a heavily armoured Goliath model, its entire front given over to rock-grinding blades that would chew hungrily on skitarii machine-flesh or the armour of the Kataphron. And, in its wake, a flurry of robed figures bearing a banner showing that familiar many-armed figure. The Aunts and the Uncles had come out from their cellars and holes, from their forgotten wall-spaces where they had waited for generations. Even as the Goliath powered forwards, meeting the lead Kataphron head-on and making a jagged mess of its armour, the elders were leaping around and over it, brandishing knives, pistols, or just their own hooked talons. And there was more. Davien felt a voice in her head, then. A singing so pure and beautiful that she thought it must be the angels, come at last. All the Congregation must have heard it, from the way they redoubled their pace and closed joyously with the skitarii and the machines.
A great figure, head and shoulders over the rank and file, had come into the square – a Great-Aunt, one of the true elders, shrouded in streamers and rags of cloth that could not hide the divinity of her form. She sang, and the Congregation echoed her, voices upraised in prayer and praise. In one of her three hands was a banner, not the crude handmade things the crowd had spent last night creating but something ancient, preserved for this day over generations. It showed not the expected Imperial visage, but an emblem with that same long-jawed head and a trailing cog-backed body; a serpentine shape curled in upon itself, one end a hooked claw, the other hungering jaws ready to devour the tech-priests and all their works.
The skitarii turned their weapons on her, blasting away, but the banner had electrified the Congregation so that they were swarming the lines, clambering over the Kataphron, braving the massed fire of their foes. Davien saw explosives go off, mining charges devastating bodies on both sides. She saw brutal knots of knife-work and bayonets and the bludgeoning butts of carbines, no quarter given.

Never had an OBE before, but have been obsessively learning about them lately. Fear of the sleep paralysis realm is what really holds me back from trying. I tried for the first time last week and nothing.
Well last night, I was feeling especially tired and fearful at bedtime (bc of what I was reading before bed). This was def not a night I’d want to mess with AP. Just wanted to sleep. But low and behold I couldn’t sleep all night and couldn’t STOP myself from constantly getting pulled in. I had my first taste of OBE. I was laying on my stomach and was able to reach my invisible arm outside my body, like testing the waters. I pulled it right back in bc like I said, I wasn’t up for it. Question- is your astral body usually invisible? I imagined I would have been able to see something?
So anyway, after I shook that off, I closed my eyes and the visuals were popping off. I just learned about REBAL and was able to see what my mind was imagining. Question- how important is it for the visualization to specifically flow from your head to your feet? It felt more natural imagining I was in a purple egg shape energy field.
The visuals were pretty wild. It really was like I was projecting forward endlessly, with various portals and celestial unfoldings. There were even star streaks going past me at one point. It was really trippy and cool. It did start to turn red and foreboding, which I had to shake out of a few times. I really got no sleep due to all this. My question here is- are both things i experienced different forms of AP? The second thing was very cool and I will definitely keep exploring it. The OBE thing is so freaky, I don’t know if I want to even mess with it. Does anyone relate with this?
One more thing worth mentioning- the crazy visuals I mentioned, have happened before, just less intense. They are much more pronounced when I have a bad hangover.
Thanks for reading

Hi, so I’m a complete newbie to fountain pens and started with the lamy safari, I’m loving it however the ink has run out. I understand there’s an ink converter available is this something I should get? Are there certain inks I can only use, what should I keep in mind? I’ve also noted some people saying the converter doesn’t hold as much ink and so they use syringes to refill old cartridges but I don’t know about that at this stage - thoughts?

For backstory my great grandmother developed paranoid schizophrenia after menopause and my mother has had brief episodes of psychosis but is okay now. Ever since her psychosis though, I’ve had a big fear of psychosis. I’ve had ocd and anxiety since I was about 5 and im now 25. When I was in middle school I developed it severely though and had extreme derealization / depersonalization that I still suffer from. Right now I’m going through a very bad anxiety phase, almost agoraphobic. I get extreme derealization with thoughts about myself or reality or things I could hallucinate. The feelings and thoughts are so weird I am absolutely convinced they are the beginning of schizophrenia. I’ve read about disorder of self and am afraid that’s me. For example, I’ll start panicking because I don’t know where my thoughts are in my head. It freaks me out. Where are they coming from? How are we all thoughts? And feel like I physically can feel where they are in my head. I’ll become so hyper aware of myself I can see my own eyelashes and feel paralyzed and nothing feels or looks real and everything looks high def and off. I’ll feel like I’m blending into reality, or during one panic attack I felt like there was two of me for a minute. I often feel so weirded out by myself or my limbs I feel like I can’t use them. My arms often feel detached and weird. I’ll feel like I don’t have a jaw and then imagine I hallucinate I don’t. Or feel like I can’t tell what limbs are and like I can feel an extra one and I’ll imagine I hallucinate I do have an extra one. What if these aren’t just what if thoughts but feelings that indicate the beginning of schizophrenia and my ocd just plays on it?:( I feel crazy just typing it, like that’s so weird that it has to be schizophrenia. The thoughts about my self and reality get so so weird and dissociating. And sometimes things just don’t feel or look right and I’m so hyper aware of everything , every object , and feel like I’m swimming in the air. Which ive heard is a sign of schizophrenia :(