It’s 2:43 AM, can’t sleep due to a cup I had too late in the day. I’m sick of this. I also get trembling from too much caffeine, which I think is just not for me, and am dealing with severe anxiety. Here’s to Day 1 tomorrow. I’m still allowing myself chocolate for now, and decaf coffee and decaf tea. I also want to say for posterity that I believe it is a drug that I no longer wish to be addicted to. Other people are free to do as they wish, of course. I would like to do another post tomorrow for accountability to update if I was successful.

[INTRO]
[Camera fades in showing Danny Gonzalez sitting at his desk, wearing his signature beanie and glasses. Upbeat music plays in the background.]
Danny: What's crackin', Greg? It's your favorite trio of internet goofballs back with another collab that's gonna make you question reality more than a cat in front of a mirror!
[CUT TO: Title Card - "The Ultimate YouTube Collab: Unraveling Internet Shenanigans"]
[TRANSITION TO: Danny sitting at his desk with images of Drew Gooden and Kurtis Conner behind him.]
Danny: Today, we're joined by the dynamic duo of comedy, Drew Gooden and Kurtis Conner, as we embark on a journey through the weirdest, wildest, and wackiest mysteries the internet has to offer. So, strap in and get ready for some serious LOLs!
[CUT TO: Danny, Drew, and Kurtis sitting together, looking pumped]
Danny: Let's kick things off with the Mandela Effect – the phenomenon where people collectively misremember stuff like it's a group project they all failed. I mean, seriously, who knew so many people would think Nelson Mandela kicked the bucket in prison? It's like we're living in a parallel universe where history is just one big game of telephone!
[CUT TO: Drew scratching his head]
Drew: And what's the deal with the Berenstain Bears? I could've sworn those lovable bears spelled their name with an "e," but apparently, we've been living in a world where spelling bees don't exist.
[CUT TO: Kurtis looking bewildered]
Kurtis: And don't even get me started on conspiracy theories! From flat Earth to reptilian overlords, it's like the internet took a wrong turn at Albuquerque and ended up in Crazytown.
[CUT TO: Danny nodding in agreement]
Danny: Speaking of Crazytown, urban legends are like the creepy uncle of the internet. I mean, who hasn't heard about Slender Man or the cursed videotape from "The Ring"? It's enough to make you wanna unplug your Wi-Fi and move to a cabin in the woods.
[CUT TO: Dramatic zoom on all three of them]
Danny, Drew, and Kurtis (in unison): Dun dun dun!
[CUT TO: Danny scratching his head]
Danny: But wait, there's more! Let's not forget about cryptids – you know, those mythical creatures that people claim to have seen but probably just spotted after a few too many cups of coffee.
[CUT TO: Drew looking intrigued]
Drew: Yeah, like the Loch Ness Monster or Bigfoot. I mean, who's really out here believing in giant aquatic dinosaurs or furry forest giants?
[CUT TO: Kurtis looking skeptical]
Kurtis: And let's not even get started on haunted places! From abandoned asylums to ghost ships, it's like the world is just one big episode of "Ghost Adventures."
[CUT TO: Danny laughing]
Danny: Alright, Greg, buckle up because we're just getting started! We're diving deep into the weird, the wild, and the downright wacky world of internet mysteries, and trust me, you won't wanna miss a second of it!
[CONTINUE WITH VARIOUS SEGMENTS, EACH HOST DISCUSSING DIFFERENT INTERNET MYSTERIES, JOKES, AND ANECDOTES. IMPROVISE FROM HERE.]
[CONCLUDE WITH THE HOSTS SUMMING UP THE LESSONS LEARNED AND ENCOURAGING VIEWERS TO SUBSCRIBE AND JOIN THE FUN]
[OUTRO]
[Camera fades out as Danny, Drew, and Kurtis wave goodbye, with the music fading out in the background.]

I drank alcohol for the first time at 11, didn’t get drunk but didn’t mind it. Started drinking somewhat frequently at 13-14. By 15-16 I couldn’t stop at the time I had just gotten into a serious relationship with my current bf, we’re like 2 peas in a pod, or were. We both drank together a lot from 15-17 for me and 17-19 for him. When we drink together we argue and then we makeup over, and over, and over in one night. Sometimes we “break up” but then all of a sudden it’s okay we call eachother names we yell we’re toxic together when we drink but I can’t stop and when I drink, he drinks. everytime we drink together lately he tells me I ruined his life, I believe that. But the next day he tells me he didn’t mean it and he apologizes profusely. What do I do I want to keep our relationship good but it’s like that one quote from bojack “all three of us were drowning, and we didn’t know how to save eachother, but there was an understanding that we were all drowning together.”

So I am really dreading my wedding. I think it is a big biggest waste of money, and on top of that, we can’t afford my dream honeymoon and we could have if we didnt have this massive party.
So I (F26) am getting married at the end of July. I am a massive introvert, I hate going to big parties and I don’t tend to meet up with friends in a big group. I think I have some kind of social anxiety, it isn’t generally a big deal as I am just a little antisocial and avoid big events. My fiancé (M37) is the opposite and loves socialising and will never say no to anything, to the point where when we’ve gone out to work Christmas parties together, I’ve had to leave alone because he then wants to go out after, and I just want to go to bed.
I wanted to elope and he wanted a party, because he feels he has to give back to all his friends who’ve had big weddings. We compromised and the wedding day is a tiny event at my childhood church, and the next day is a massive reception. On top of that, we have another event the next day which is a meal and a tea ceremony, as is his culture.
What makes me feel worse about the whole thing is that my parents are paying for most of it because they want to. But my mum has said things like no xmas gifts or bday gifts etc bc of the wedding which I get, but it annoys me as they know that day is not for me and I’m dreading the whole thing. I can’t bear the thought of getting up early 3 days in a row, having to wear make up and be sociable. It is too much for me. I said when we agreed on the wedding plans that I’m only agreeing if it is what he wants, because I’m not keen on the idea. Since then he’s mentioned if it’s that big a deal we should cancel because it’s for everyone else anyway. This annoyed me bc my parents are essentially paying for a party that now he says is for everyone else.
It’s too late now to cancel things, and as the date looms nearer I am dreading it more and more. Sorry for the rant but I just need advice and tips on how to get through these three days without a breakdown.

I thought I’d add a trip report for Universal Studios Japan as I found some of this detail was hard to find online (e.g. the opening time!) My husband and kids (aged 8 and 11) visited USJ on a weekday in mid April.
Tickets: All purchased through Klook without any problems. Printed at home to save the hassle of flicking through four passes on my phone every time. We bought the 7 Express Pass which was worth every cent. We also bought the Early Entry studio pass, designed to let us in 15 minutes early. That wasn’t entirely accurate, see paragraph below!
Entry times: We had read online that the park opens an hour before the posted time. Not today! The posted time was 9am, and we turned up at 8:15. The park opened at around 8:40. At this time, the regular lines and the Early Entry lines opened all at once. But it was still definitely worth buying the Early Entry pass, because the lines were much, MUCH shorter. If you’re using an Early Entry pass, just show the attendants when you turn up and they’ll direct you to the Early Entry lines.
Super Nintendo World: We had already reserved an entry time for Super Nintendo World at 10:50 through our express passes, but we didn’t want to wait. We checked the app as we walked in at 8:50, and we could get an entry time to SNW at 9:10. We went straight there, lined up, and they let us in 15 minutes early! We found the same for all of our express passes too: They would allow us in at least 10 minutes earlier. Perhaps it’s because it wasn’t a particularly crowded day (still crowded, but not a weekend or holiday). In brief, SNW is everything you’ve seen online, but so spectacular in person.
SNW power up bands: We bought these at the first kiosk, but should’ve followed the advice online and walked further into the area. There were power up band kiosks with no queues inside. We didn’t really get much value for money out of these: the kids had fun hitting the blocks and coins and interacting with them a little on the rides, but they couldn’t be bothered to wait in the long queues for the more elaborate games. There’s a big challenge which requires playing several games to collect keys to enter a boss level. It probably would have taken an extra hour or two, but we were ready to go on more rides.
Jaws: We went on this next, but there was no need for a fast pass as the queue was very short. It was entertaining enough despite being in Japanese. We would have preferred to ride the Hollywood roller coaster; our 7 express pass had that as an alternative to Jaws, but unfortunately it’s currently closed.
Minions Mayhem: This was the best 3D movie ride I had ever been on (until we went on Soaring at DisneySea!). Both are excellent. The intro videos have English subtitles; the main 3D movie ride didn’t, but there wasn’t much dialogue. Very fun, enjoyed by all. Walked past the other Minions ride, Freeze Ray Sliders, but looked like a version of spinning teacups, not worth the ever-lengthening queue times.
Mario Kart: Koopa’s Challenge: Probably our favourite ride for the day. It’s a combination ride / 3D movie / interactive experience with virtual goggles – worth every bit for the express pass, and worth the queue if you don’t have an express pass!
Yoshi’s Adventure: Very much a young kids’ ride and can be skipped! Even our kids looked bored. There are good views, but not much that you can’t see elsewhere. (As an aside, the two best views of the not-yet-opened Donkey Kong Country were found at the peak of the Flight of the Hippogriff rollercoaster, and on the Tempozan Ferris Wheel which we visited the day before.)
Flying Dinosaur: Our 11-year-old doesn’t like extreme roller coasters, but our 8-year-old was unsure as she has liked some bigger roller coasters before. We decided that my husband and I would ride it while the kids watched (and took videos, hilarious) and we could tell her afterwards if it was too scary. DEFINITELY too scary, haha. I love roller coasters, and I closed my eyes in parts. I’m so glad I did it, but it’s not for the faint-of-heart.
Jurassic Park meet and greet: We happened to walk past as the dinosaurs were coming out. Cute for the kids, but not worth structuring your day around. I wish the Jurassic Park log flume ride was open, but it’s currently still closed.
Waterworld: We queued for this 20 minutes before show time, but we needn’t have bothered, as the seating area was huge. They were still letting people in as the performance began, and none were having trouble finding seats. We could have chosen the front row, but we sat slightly behind the ‘splash zone’ so we wouldn’t get wet. Sitting higher up afforded a better view too, but views would have been good from anywhere. The plot was simple enough to follow without understanding Japanese – fun and good for a long rest for our already tired feet!
Hogsmeade: Utterly stunning, all of it: The shops, the food, the performances (singing frogs and magical beasts turned up regularly). We ate at the Three Broomsticks, which appeared crowded with a long queue, but with an app to order, it cleared quickly enough. There were plenty of empty tables out the back, with a view across the lake to Hogwarts! My kids had wanted to try butterbeer for so long, but it was sickly sweet, like bubbly maple syrup. It was quite difficult to find a place to dispose of the rest of the drink so we could take the souvenir cups home, but eventually we just dumped the contents in the bathroom sink.
Interactive wands: These were much better value for our kids, and they took part in five of the seven interactive spells before exhaustion hit at the end of the day. The first (wingardium leviosa!) was not being managed by staff, so it was hard to get it to work. It had about a 50% success rate. The later ones were all managed by very kind and patient staff (who also happened to speak excellent English) who allowed each guest to keep trying until it worked. It meant the queues were slow-moving, but most were short enough, and my kids were happy to wait while they watched others attempting the spells.
Harry Potter and the Forbidden Journey: We were so excited for this one, but it scared both my kids a bit! The 8-year-old because of the giant dementors (both on-screen and big animatronics), and the 11-year-old because the chair actually tipped a really long way back and forward. She was worried we would go right upside-down, but we didn’t. It was a lot more intense than we had expected. I really loved it, but be careful if you have sensitive kids.
Flight of the Hippogriff: This is a pretty tame roller coaster, and I’m not sure why people would queue two hours for it. The kids loved it, though. One warning: my six foot tall husband had to be moved to the front row as his legs didn’t fit!
Minions Mayhem again: We noticed on the app that there was only a 10 minute queue for Minions Mayhem, so my husband and 8-year-old had another go. A 10 minute queue means no queue at all, as it takes 10 minutes to walk through and watch the intro videos. We checked the app, and all the more popular rides still had huge queues, so decided to call it a day.
All up, we were there from opening to 6pm, and were utterly exhausted by the end of it. Plan a quieter day for afterwards, if you can! And we were very jealous of the people staying in the hotel right by the park – in hindsight it would have been worth the extra packing and unpacking to shift to that hotel for the night before and/or after.

2024 County Championship - Round 7 - Day 3 & Charlotte Edwards Cup
ECB nvPlay Match Centre - County Championship - Charlotte Edwards Cup - Central Repository of Scorecards and clips of every boundary and wicket
Live Video Streams: Every match is broadcast free online and available worldwide. These streams are hosted on the home team's YouTube channels which are linked against each match below. They can also be accessed on the ECB Website (free account required) and via nvPlay (linked above)
Live Radio Streams: Ball-by-ball radio coverage of every County Championship match, and selected Women's regional matches, is provided by BBC Local Radio. The radio streams are found on the BBC Live Text Commentary Page for the day and are accessible worldwide.
All of today's County Championship matches start at 11am BST. Lunch is at 1pm. Tea at 3:40pm or after 64 overs, whichever is later. Stumps at 6pm or when they finish the 96 overs for the day, whichever is later.
County Championship Division 1
Essex vs Warwickshire at The Essex County Ground - YouTube - Weather Forecast - Scorecard
Lancashire vs Durham at Stanley Park - YouTube - Weather Forecast - Scorecard
Nottinghamshire vs Hampshire at Trent Bridge - YouTube - Weather Forecast - Scorecard
Somerset vs Kent at The County Ground, Taunton - YouTube - Weather Forecast - Scorecard
Surrey vs Worcestershire at The Oval - YouTube - Weather Forecast - Scorecard
County Championship Division 2
Derbyshire vs Northamptonshire at The County Cricket Ground, Derby - YouTube - Weather Forecast - Scorecard
Glamorgan vs Middlesex at Sophia Gardens - YouTube - Weather Forecast - Scorecard
Leicestershire vs Gloucestershire at Grace Road - YouTube - Weather Forecast - Scorecard
Sussex vs Yorkshire at The County Cricket Ground, Hove - YouTube - Weather Forecast - Scorecard
Charlotte Edwards Cup
13:00 - Thunder vs Northern Diamonds at Old Trafford - YouTube - Weather Forecast - Scorecard
14:30 - Central Sparks vs Sunrisers at New Road - YouTube - Weather Forecast - Scorecard
14:30 - Western Storm vs South East Stars at The County Ground, Bristol - YouTube - Weather Forecast - Scorecard
County Championship Standings after Round 6:
Division 1

		P	W	T	L	D	A	BatBP	BowBP	Adj	Pts
1	Surrey	5	3	0	0	2	0	16	15	0	95
2	Essex	5	2	0	1	2	0	12	14	0	74
3	Somerset	5	1	0	0	4	0	11	13	0	72
4	Nottinghamshire	5	1	0	1	3	0	11	14	0	65
5	Durham	5	1	0	0	3	1	8	5	0	61
6	Warwickshire	5	0	0	1	4	0	15	12	0	59
7	Worcestershire	5	0	0	1	4	0	13	13	0	58
8	Kent	5	1	0	1	3	0	5	11	0	56
9	Hampshire	5	0	0	1	3	1	7	7	-2*	44
10	Lancashire	5	0	0	3	2	0	5	10	0	31

^{* Hampshire: 2 points deducted for slow over-rate in match against Surrey on 26th April 2024}
Division 2

		P	W	T	L	D	A	BatBP	BowBP	Adj	Pts
1	Sussex	5	2	0	1	2	0	17	14	-1*	78
2	Middlesex	5	1	0	0	4	0	9	11	0	68
3	Leicestershire	5	0	0	0	5	0	17	11	0	68
4	Glamorgan	5	1	0	0	4	0	9	10	0	67
5	Gloucestershire	5	1	0	1	2	1	11	11	0	62
6	Yorkshire	5	0	0	1	4	0	13	15	0	60
7	Northamptonshire	5	0	0	1	4	0	14	11	0	57
8	Derbyshire	5	0	0	1	3	1	4	8	-1*	43

^{* Derbyshire: 1 point deducted for slow over-rate in match against Sussex on 3rd May 2024, Sussex: 1 point deducted for slow over-rate in match against Derbyshire on 3rd May 2024}
Points: 16 for a win, 8 for a draw, 8 for a tie, 8 for an Abandonment. 1 bonus point for reaching 250 runs. 1 additional point for each 50 runs after that scored within the first 110 overs of the first innings. Maximum 5 points for 450. 1 bonus point for each 3 wickets taken in the first 110 overs of the first innings

The thing about this climate crisis that no one talks about is that economically, this is not new. This is the same sort of shift as any other massive economic shift we've seen in history, whether resulting from technology or environment or society or any combination of the three. It will be rapid; as rapid as the economic expansion of Europe when it discovered just how profitable colonisation and slavery were. But it's not really anything unseen in an economic sense.
How markets work is this: everything is just supply and demand. If there is a known demand for something, in a roundabout way, the market will ensure that demand is supplied. It might melt a few glaciers in the meantime, or be delayed by a war or two, but it's a force akin to that of nature, or evolution, or cause and effect. The markets will balance. Eventually.

A detour through history

The Chinese never developed eye-glasses. They didn't have the need for glass, because their drink of choice was tea, so the materials they worked with were mostly ceramics. In Europe, the cultural drink of refinement was wine. This didn't need to be kept hot, or be brewed and poured perfectly and all that stuff I'm told is important with tea. But it had requirements and qualities of its own, and one of them is that it looks pretty on display -- and that's why Europe developed and refined glass so much faster than China.
Glass is an incredibly old invention. It's fragile, much more fragile than pottery, so we rarely find it in archeological digs. But it's been invented in and/or expanded to many many cultures throughout history since at least 2000 BC in Egypt, Mesopotamia, and Syria, followed by the Greeks, the Romans, the Canaan, and the Persians. Basically anyone with an empire, including the Chinese, was making glass. Unfortunately they'd only just discovered transparent glass by the late Bronze Age, when the Bronze Age collapsed due to a series of environmental, migratory and urban changes.
(A good reminder that historically, periods of mass technological advancement are followed by civilisation collapses and dark ages. Until the present, of course. But that's been true of every present.)
A lot of glass-making technology was lost, but some important things were saved and some new stuff was rediscovered, and most of this discovering happened in Europe because they had, as I mentioned, wine. And rich people wanted to show off their pretty, colourful wine, and that only worked if your glass was transparent. And Italy had access to pure silica quartz, plus soda ash via their trade with the Levant, and so some clever spark there developed the first pair of eyeglasses.
And that's how you have Mecca, Italy and Venice (the latter of whom had been producing the famous Venetian glass, but moved all their glassmakers to Italy because they'd built all their buildings out of wood) all mass producing eye-glasses with consistent standards for Europe and the Middle East by the 14th century.
This might seem like a small development, but gradual loss of sight used to be a disability. Like, it seriously disabled people from doing many things. Far-sightedness meant artisans couldn't create and scholars couldn't read -- I can't even imagine how many people died falling off a horse just because they were short-sighted. For civilisations to have access to devices that got them decades of productivity out of some of the most skilled people in their societies was massive. And that's part of how you get European dominance over Asia, because the Chinese economic powerhouses didn't care about glass as much as Europe did. It's not enough to just invent something. To develop a technology, a society needs both the resources to play with and the need to play with it. That's why we get so much advancement from war. You can thank Germany for your microwave.

How on earth is this relevant to the market or our climate crisis?

Glass will be invented, and then it will be forgotten, and then it will be invented again. But only some economies flourished from it.
We have no control over anything but us. And that's terrifying. The climate change that crippled the Bronze Age wasn't even their fault and they still got thrown back to the Dark Ages.
We are going to see our own change in the market. We are going to live it. And one thing is true, whether National or ACT or BP like it or not: fossil fuels cannot continue to be relied upon as a commodity. Not long-term. It's a dying industry, slowly but surely, and it'll die whether we manage to wean ourselves off petrol or whether we use it all up first.
To a lesser extent, this is true of other non-renewables too. We are not at critical mass yet with our lithium-ion batteries, but we're now at the stage where people in the third world all seem to have cellphones. This is not a sustainable practice for a limited metal we have to mine from the earth. When something is running out, we don't have to stop using that material in the things we build; if we start to use it all up, it will soon get too expensive to build with, and that will stop us.
And that's why we have to stop using it: because if you as a country or industry pour all your energy and resources into developing technology based off that now-scarce resource, you will be left with no usable technology when that resource runs out.

What are National doing?

This is a political sub, so I won't mince words: something's gone wrong with National. Something's always been wrong with ACT, but National's change is recent. Power has been centralised in the board and the candidate selection process is no longer in the hands of the rank and file after Steven Joyce's shakeup, instead dominated by corporate interests. And they have dominated. We have a cabinet of lobbyists, and not just on National's side of the board; Luxon has pulled together the whole industry.
When we attribute "intentions" to things like forces and political parties, it can be easy to forget there's not a concerted, rational mind at play behind their decisions, and their actions are influenced by all of the people and factors and forces that make them up. When I say, "National has been bought by lobbyists", I don't mean every single person in the party is a corporate shill. I just mean that there is enough corporate, business, and big-money influence in the party that they are no longer being governed primarily by their voter base or even their party members.
Nothing makes this more obvious than National's direction in politics. When your LABOUR and GREEN parties are the ones proposing to fix your climate crisis via free-market ingenuity that we can patent, sell on and capitalise off, something has gone wrong. There is money to be made in climate change, and National are off chasing oil down the bottom of a well.
If we don't wean ourselves off fossil fuels, we will find ourselves paying for it the increased price for them when we don't have the green technology to utilise at the end of supply. If we don't put our minds to green tech and science, we won't have the environment-saving and cleaning and reinforcing products and knowledge to sell on when the demand for them peaks through the ceiling -- instead we will be buying from other countries at big prices, paying to ship their experts here to tell us how to manage our estuaries or dump sites or skink habitats or whatever it is we need to fix next. New Zealand got lucky with our green energy; we were already using renewables by sheer coincidence when the climate crisis struck, and it made our transition to this new world very smooth. We will not be that lucky again.
Look at what we produce as a country. We held on far too long to our wool market out of some idea that it was "what we were supposed to be doing", and it nearly wrecked the country. Because it took us so long to change, and because we'd converted all our land into pasture, the most effective market for us to turn to became beef. Now that market is thriving, and we are willfully ignoring the real economic costs that will come with being a beef export country, and that cost is methane. There is not a future where countries will be allowed to emit methane for free. And there are no methane-light cows to switch to. Not until we develop them.
And this is what people talk about when they talk about environmental solutions still to be developed -- as if other people are going to develop them. That is incorrect. WE are the Cow Country. WE are the ones that should be foremost of the cow-fart field. If we do, we will be the ones benefitting by selling our bio-engineered cows and our science that made it happen. But if we don't, if we trail behind, we let other countries get out in front, and then our industry relies on them, and their industry outgrows us.
And these are all individual product or problem examples, but we are dragging our feet across the entire green industry. Why?

Big Oil does not care if your tech is Green

I say big oil, but there are other anti-environment and pro-corporate interests at play here. And again, there's not some big puppetmaster moving his pawn pieces, but there is influence, and companies don't want the world to go green, because when they do, they stop getting money for all the things they're getting money from right now. They don't care about the environment because they don't have the capacity to care; they are not a they. They are a force, a conglomeration, a hivemind of workers breaking their back for the company, until they clock off and become their own person again.
Their only interest is keeping ahold of their incredibly profitable market, and that market needs machines that use oil, and consumers willing to buy those machines, and people who aren't thinking about switching to a non-oil version of their tractor that doesn't exist yet (because no one has found the need to invent it. Or had the right resources.)
Oil cares about oil. Mining cares about mining. Tobacco cares about tobacco. Beef cares about beef. And we get value out of these industries as a country, as a society, so when they say"This thing is bad for me", we do have to listen to that. Otherwise we won't get our beef, or our oil. But "This thing is bad for ME" isn't the same as "This thing is bad for YOU". And companies are relying on consumers to not know the difference.

Back to National

Tobacco lobbyists have bought out Parliament, and are literally drafting our tobacco laws. And they are just one interest around the table. But they have had a huge effect. Imagine what's happening to the interests of your politicians when you have your lobbyists working together. Imagine where the interests of lobbyists for mining and oil might meet. Now imagine fisheries has a guy in there too.
Our oceans should be feeling very nervous right now.
It's the small influences we can't see that make these big decisions later on. The people who select our future MPs. The people who decide, hey, I'm going to try this new glass technique. But it takes an awful lot of decisions to make a glassblowing society.
A lot of what we do, we don't do consciously, like developing eye-glasses. But the benefit of our open democries, of our information-based societies, of our unprecedented understanding of economies and markets and science and climate, should mean that when we choose to do something consciously, we can do it.
When we don't, something has gone wrong.

A Green Future

To get to the sort of green economy the non-business parties are picturing, you need someone who has the time and acumen to get us there.
That SHOULD be National. There is so much involved in politics; our politicians are running so much. And they're spending most of their time undoing the last guy's policies. Labour's policies sound like the Greens. National doesn't have any except "win". ACT are doing Charter Schools again. And the policies being made are being made in the interests of business people.
Our politicians don't have visions like Hollyoake of a New Zealand forging our own future, or Muldoon's determination to make things better for the average kiwi, or (heaven help me), Roger Douglass's respect for politics. None of the old guard are happy with how politics is shaping up, and certainly not the right, or who eventually became the right, in Douglass's case -- this is what he had to say on the subject: “John Key lived by the polls and it’s very dangerous. If you want to help people, you have to tell them the truth. The problem is that the politicians of today, they want to help themselves. So they poll in order to know what to say and it’s disgusting.”
I think in that one sentence, Douglass sums up everything wrong with the modern National Party. Once upon a time, National were in it to help people. They're not anymore.

Where to now?

It's all just markets.
If National won't change, they'll kill their market and they'll be replaced by a new party, just like the Liberal Party and Reform Party and Social Credit Party before them. National and Labour have always been around, but not always as these parties, or in these forms. The political spectrum will move to meet demand -- even when curtailed by corporate interests.
Or National will change, take control of their candidates and board, and live to fight for another century or so.
Either way, the economy will continue, and so will climate change. We will still need to develop new technologies using our available resources, and direct our technology-developing towards fixing environmental solutions. I hope New Zealand will benefit from this, and not just witness it. But if it's not National making the push, another political party will. We can see that happening right now, with the other parties suggesting their own green business ideas that National should be sweeping up votes for. There is voter and consumer demand for green businesses, and National are distracting us instead with shiny baubles because the corporations influencing them don't want you to see them.
Another thing Douglass was frustratingly right about: all our parties are doing at the moment is undoing each other's policies. It's hard to see New Zealand making any forwards progress at all if that's our direction.

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.

Hey all.
Considering buying a beautiful 1600, the colours just not my cup of tea. He had the body bare metal resprayed, so I know there’s not much hiding under there…. But how much would a new paint job cost these days?
Would be changing from a very dark colour to a very light colour.
Thanks!

Hello RP enthusiasts!
I am looking for a single player to join a fun, friendly RP-focused group playing a relatively new 5e homebrew campaign using DDB/Roll20, and voice chat via Discord, every other Wednesday evening at 6-9:30pm Central (7-10:30 Eastern).
As I mentioned, the group is primarily focused on roleplaying, so anyone looking for a combat-focused game should look elsewhere. That said, the campaign is set in a dark, challenging, high-fantasy world, with plenty of monsters and adversaries allowing for a reasonable amount of combat, as well.
The campaign started at level one; but thanks to one of our players having a change in employment, their impending schedule conflicts mean this Wednesday will be their final session in this game. Thus, there is an opening available for what will likely be a level 3 character to join the other three (a rogue, barbarian, and divine soul sorcerer) in a couple of weeks, which should give us plenty of time to work on your character and backstory, and craft an appropriate entry for your character into the party/story. On the OOC side, everyone is very friendly, so it should not take long for any new player to comfortably feel like a welcome part of the group.
Ages for the four of us range from lower and mid twenties to over forty, and all relate to each other very well. So, while I'd like to keep the minimum age in the 20's, beyond that: playstyle, mindset, and personality are more important than hard numbers.
What's the game like?
This is a game of collaborative storytelling. Barring the obvious (no obscene or meme characters, etc), my primary rule for character creation is that you must make a character who will want to work with the party and engage with the story, and with whom the party will want to engage. Come up with an idea for a backstory, and I will gladly work on it with you, and incorporate elements into the campaign. And just because your character enters play, that does not mean backstory development needs to stop. I will gladly continue to incorporate your character into the world, and vice-versa, so long as you are an engaged part of the process, and positively contributing to the story.
I also try to give my players engaging descriptions, and interactive NPC's (though no DMPC's) with distinct voices and personalities, and to augment scenes with engaging visuals. A few of the visuals I have created for the game can be seen on the application page, at: https://forms.gle/LJ9JHQqkCAcjkfY58
It is my hope that the descriptions and the visuals will help you feel immersed in the world, and help you enjoy roleplaying your character. Not everyone at our table is an actor, and any effort you make to roleplay your character is appreciated. The group is friendly and supportive, and fosters an environment where everyone can comfortably push their own boundaries (trying new voices, or whatever), should they choose, without fear of judgment or mockery. We do have fun, joke around and break character, but never at anyone else's expense, and not to the point of derailing the game.
What about the people?
I have a lot of experience with gaming, in various systems, both as player and storytelleDM, and endeavor to keep things fun and fair. I am also friendly and laid back, and a huge fan of open and honest communication, so I am always happy to listen to any thoughts, concerns, or ideas you may have.
The group is LGBTQ+ friendly, and welcomes everyone. Racism, sexism, homophobia, or other such things have never been an issue, and would not be tolerated. That said, this group is neither a hugbox nor a meme group, neither ultra-sensitive nor super-meme-centric. We are a friendly and easy-going group of gamers who enjoy role-play and realism/verisimilitude in our games. We are also very supportive of each other, in and out of game, and are comfortable with the idea that stereotypes and conflict do exist in game. So, if you get up in arms about in-game "racism" (kobolds and drow being typically evil, and treated as such, and/or the possibility of other inherent conflict based on race/background); if you dislike NPCs reacting appropriately to your PC's behavior; or if you can't stand the possibility of any other in-game conflict, this is not the game for you. If you are a nice, respectful, decent human being who is interested in collaborative storytelling, in a roleplay-centric game, with a decent bit of combat mixed in, then you should fit right in!
You might say we are semi-serious gamers. We might hang out and chat before and/or after game, but game time is for gaming. We do crack jokes and have fun, but generally keep things moving and focused on the game at hand. If this sounds like your style, then please apply via the link! https://forms.gle/LJ9JHQqkCAcjkfY58
So, what's the campaign about?
Admittedly, I have long been partial to "classic," Tolkien-esque D&D, and the worlds portrayed in the Dragonlance novels and Salvatore books. Dragonborns, tieflings, and the exotic races were never really my cup of tea, for PC's. But, I also tend to be open-minded about most things. So, when the friends with whom I have been playing 5e online for the past couple of years asked me to run a game, I decided to challenge my previous notions. Having watched certain characters done well in streamed games encouraged me to scrap some of my previous boundaries, and create a world which has become largely dominated by the "animal" races.
When the "awakened" first began to appear, during a time now known as The Great Awakening, they were typically treated as pets, as slaves, or as curiosities at best, especially by humans. Over time, as they grew in numbers, eventually they turned the tables on their oppressors, and hunted/drove much of humanity into remote areas. Elves and dwarves largely withdrew from the conflicts, though they occasionally provided shelter to refugees, either directly, or by offering some measure of protection to communities which sprang up near their own.
Now, with the continent-wide conflicts having largely subsided, much of the known world is currently run by the awakened races, who have themselves begun to segregate into various communities. And, while many humans were pushed to the outskirts of civilization, mostly existing in remote sanctuary communities, those humans currently trying to survive in the more populated areas are treated like second-class citizens, at best.
The current game does not take place in those areas, however! I am still building that world out, tailoring a larger campaign to the characters and ideas my players have given me. The campaign I am currently running takes place in a remote part of that same world, where The Great Awakening -- and the effects it has had on much of the known world -- is little more than rumor.
The Othean Peninsula is an icy expanse, isolated both physically and culturally from the rest of the world. This is an area of the world still largely dominated by humans, and the two peoples who populate the area -- a nordic tribal culture, and a more "civilized" society reminiscent of medieval Eastern Europe -- are hardened by the climate, the dangerous wilds, and the wars they have fought against each other over control of the region.
As the PC's wind their way through the landscape, there are a number of directions they could go, and interests they could pursue. Of course, they must do so while also navigating the tentative truce between the two societies, and facing the threats permeating the world around them. Last session, after getting hired to help find someone, they took a detour to investigate a break-in. NPCs from each faction in town are quick to blame the other, while at least one person believes the attacker was a more external, and possibly supernatural, threat. This week, having negotiated a more comfortable lodging situation with the individual whose establishment was targeted, the PC's may follow through on finding the missing person, or may follow up on their investigation. Or both!
There is no railroad here. There are options, and impetus; but player agency is important for the group to be able to help shape the story.
Wherever they end up in two weeks, will your character be likely to join the party, and up to the challenges which may lie before them?
If you are interested in joining our game, please fill out the application: https://forms.gle/LJ9JHQqkCAcjkfY58
As long as the application is open, you can still apply. I will update the thread once I’ve found someone!
Thanks!
(It's after 0400 as I wrap this up, so please forgive any spelling errors or editing shortcomings)

So my agency is finally starting to get quotes on weapon lights and red dots. Currently we run a bone stock gen 4 17. Looking to get the glock 45 mos.
I'm actually pretty happy with this considering we don't have anything unless we buy it ourselves. I'm no longer patrol and am in a spot where my opinion sometimes matters.
That being said they are leaning heavy towards the tlr 7s for patrol duty use. Now just from having nothing to that is great I suppose but I know it could be better but that's gonna cost more.
I doubt I can talk them into surefire x300s for duty but maybe tlr1 hds. Admin could swing the tlr7 if they choose to imo.
So holsters, we would need new holsters and this would be the deciding factor. The safariland lvl 3 als rds holsters would they fit all three lights? I could have sworn that I overheard them talking about a Blackhawk holster that has a universal flashlight mounting system....... I have no idea but the thought of a Blackhawk holster for duty use scares the sh*t out of me.
If I can't talk them into a stronger light for patrol I'd love for patrol to have the option of upgrading their light on our holster dime. If that makes sense.
*I actually run a glock 19 mos with rmr and x300 but again I'm not patrol and that's my personal weapon, holster, light, and rmr. Was considering the tlr7 for me and helping an appreciateve patrolman out with my x300.

Lonely ho gaya hu no friends jo the sab alag ho gaye koi kisi se baat nahi karta ab social media chalata hu to aour zayada anxious ho jata hu papa mummy ka kaise batau nahi ho raha mere se they are expecting soo much from me I feel awful to even look at them now, din bhar bas table pe baitha rehta hu like a lifeless doll
Seems like I just expected way too much from me seems like jee was never cup of my tea

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

Hello Sky players! I need your opinion on my experience, because I'm not sure if I should keep playing or not.
I went into this game completely blind - the only thing I knew was that it has stunning visuals. I decided to try it when it was made available on Steam, and I've played the early access version. Now, the graphics really are stunning - it's really fun to fly around and watch the beautiful landscapes and creatures appear in my sight.
pretty :0
However, there were some parts of the game that made my Sky experience less enjoyable. They are:

• Bugs: I'm aware this is Early Access and these will most likely be fixed as time passes - but some are really annoying. Sky is multiplayer and it's nice to see others fly out and about, but not when it forces me to watch their cutscenes every single time they're triggered. That, and players can solve puzzles I haven't unlocked yet, which makes it more difficult to enjoy the story at my own pace.
• Controls: the camera constantly autofocuses on things. It's giving me headaches, so hopefully this is also something that will get fixed. We also cannot rebind keyboard controls, and the Friends menu is confusing to me.
• Players activating cutscenes/puzzles: if the camera autofocusing didn't make it difficult enough to travel through the worlds of Sky, other players triggering cutscenes that the game forced me to watch did. When I got to the mountain to climb to get to the Eye of Eden, some players triggered the "opening door" cutscene at the end of the path and my character couldn't move, so I got hit by falling rocks, losing Light - this is just one of the many times it happened.
• Microtransactions: there's lots of things you can only get with real money. I was disappointed when I found out that even in the Cinnamoroll event, I could only get two objects from the shop with in-game currency. All the rest has to be paid for with real money (unless I missed something, because I could barely tell where the event shop was).

More personal reasons are:

• Customization options: now this is something I was really hoping I could enjoy - I love customizing characters, I could spend hours doing that. I saw some Sky players with really cool skins, and wanted to see what I could do. When I started the game, however, I only had three hair options to choose from - I couldn't even change the color of my cape. This really disappointed me, since I was hoping I could at least get some basic customizing options. I have to go around collecting light and doing quests to get one cape colour.
• Quests: I've finished the main story, and now all I do every day is do daily quests and interact with NPCs. Daily quests feel too long to complete (unless there's a way to get to the top of the Vault of Knowledge that I'm not aware of); I've spoken to an NPC who told me to go help a spirit and showed me the location once, then never showed it again. That spirit's lost forever, since my Light won't find them either.
• Lack of previews: there's a lot of grinding to do to get one new item, and if I have no preview of what it will look like on my character, I can't be sure that I'll like it. Colored capes, for example - or the new Cinnamoroll coffee cup ornament. I didn't know it was something my character would put on their head, I thought it was an item to put in my nest. There was no indication that it would be an ornament for my character (that or I'm dumb and didn't see it, but as a new player, I understand few things about this game).
• Lack of info/directions: I understand that Sky is a game that offers a world to explore, but when my only guide is my "light" and I have no idea what's happening, I can't enjoy the story as much. The lack of explanation as to what was happening in the Eye of Eden was particularly annoying; I went around giving Light to fallen ones and trying not to die, but eventually ended up dying anyways since I couldn't reach the place my Light was guiding me to. Then came a few cutscenes, and sitting through minutes-long cutscenes of birds flying and happy music when I didn't understand anything wasn't entertaining. That this is only my opinion, tough - I'm aware that some people enjoy stories that give more space to the player's interpretation.

Now, Sky is a wonderful game. It's gorgeous, I love how many options you get to interact with friends (I love hugging them :D) and how many emotes you get. I really love the different places you can go to and how fun flying is - I've read the Steam page for the game too, and I know the devs are planning to make new players' experience easier, fix bugs, etc. I'd love to keep playing this game, but if the aspects I mentioned remain, I don't think I will.
So, I wanted to ask Sky players - are these constants in your mobile gameplay experience too, or are they only part of the Early Access PC experience? I'd love to know your opinions.
TL;DR - I love Sky's aesthetic and graphics, but the bugs, excessive grinding and wonky controls are keeping me from enjoying the game. Is Sky this way in other devices too, or is it only because I'm playing Early Access?
EDIT: Thank you for the responses. I haven't had a lot of experience with MMO games, so that's another reason I didn't know what to expect. Now that I know, I think this kind of game is not for me. However beautiful it is, I don't think I'll play it again. Thank you all again for the comments and advice! Have a good day :]

"Reality? To me that was reality. I don't know about this place. What makes you certain you won't find yourself tied here, trying to explain yourself to people who look like you? I was pretty sure that was reality. Now, well now I just don't care. This is all a dream, so do whatever you want to me. I'm not kissing the cross. Just light the pyre." Shawna told the nogs. They shuffled forward on their trunklike legs, one of them offering her a cross with a figure of a crucified nog with a golden crown and its lips puckered.
"I said I'm not kissing it. Burn me." Shawna grimaced at the horrid little nog. The nogs shrugged in unison and lifted the buckets of icy cold water at their feet. One by one they walked up to her and doused her in cold water, soaking her t-shirt and hair and making her shiver and blow water off her lips while the rest ran down her chin.
"Is she dead?" One of the nog asked.
One of them shuffled forward and waved its hands back and forth in front of her staring, lifeless eyes. "No reaction." the nog confirmed. They'd done it, they'd finally slain the Wicked Witch of the Stars. Some of the Ethgar were saddened, crying big sticky nog tears that left streaks on their faces.
Shawna held perfectly still, trying not to laugh. They really thought she was dead, they thought they'd burned her alive with their buckets of cold water. Stupid nogs, just a few moments longer and she could break free from their braided bonds and be on her way, richer than John Godson.
"I just worry her soul wont reach the Likeliness, We should hold the jesus-nog to her lips, just to be sure." A nasty little Ethgar suggested.
"We should all just shuffle off." Shawna tried some ventriloquism.
"Who said that?" Ethgar were asking each other. The nogs suddenly all looked back at Shawna, their little devil eyes glowing in the starlight.
"Oh fiddle cakes!" Shawna swore.
She didn't usually use such foul language, but she was at her wits end with the Ethgar. First, their ridiculous test of faith to learn about Red Raven, and the treasure of the Seven Wonders. Then she had to climb Mount Velvet while nogs slung biffy sludge from their blow tubes while singing insults to her. With her knuckles bloodied and fitz in her hair, she'd reached the summit only to be accused of heresy, for she'd forgotten to remove her shoes. She'd have to climb the whole mountain again, just as penance.
After the six recitals of the Bindinfingin's half a dozen holy books, the extinct lizards granted her a one-hour library pass in their sacred underground grottos. Was it enough time to memorize enough of their holy scripture to be able to compete in the junior nog bible quotation contest and become a wearer of the golden crown of the most kissable-crucifiable? It was, because Shawna really applied herself and memorized no fewer than three verses, which was two more than any junior nog had ever quoted. With the golden crown on her head, she could at last learn the last part of the legend of Red Raven, and find out where the treasure was hidden.
Wealth unimaginable, seven wonders, that's a lot of moolah.
Bindinfingin ghost-holograms followed her around with sad expressions. The long dead intelligences expected better of her.
"We've waited your return for fourteen thousand trine. Red Raven will you not reveal at last the eighth wonder? We have so waited to know the final answer." The Bindinfingin said to Shawna, but she ignored them. They almost sounded like they thought she was someone else and that the treasure was one of those 'the treasure was the adventure' or 'the treasure was really just friendship' or someshit.
Shawna wasn't going to eat an adventure-friendship treasure, not after the nog figurine got smoochies from her. "Jesus, give me the strength of patience not to kick all these nogs."
"Do dead humans talk?" A nog asked.
They began arguing and discussing whether humans could talk when they were dead. Shawna put her two cents in, insisting that she could indeed talk while she was dead.
"Thou shalt not speak to the dead." A nog zealot drew his putty maker. Others pulled out their blow tubes, spit ball launchers and bald makers. One or two had forgot to pack weapons to the witch burning ceremony, but scooped up some dirt into their empty buckets.
"Thou shalt not fart from thy mouth." Shawna said in the dark, mimicking a nog-sounding voice. Then, as she blew a raspberry, the nogs went berserk. They had divided into two groups, each with opposing religious views, although none of them were sure what religious view the group they were divided into was seeing. The sound of the raspberry was like a starting bell, and within minutes the nogs had annihilated themselves, dead nogs scattered everywhere. The last of them finished itself off. Nogs were perfectionists.
"Now for that treasure." Shawna said gleefully. She followed the path through the empty nog village and found their sacred grotto. It was unguarded, and at last, she'd done it, found what she was always told wasn't even real.
"Reality, Shawna." A familiar voice said from the silent swamps all around.
"Who said that?" She asked.
"Reality is the treasure. I just want you to come back to me. I know you're in there. I can feel you dreaming."
Shawna shook her head. "I know what's real."
A few glowing bugs floated lazily on the air past her, going off to some hollow log to party. Shawna felt watched, like someone was holding her hand. It was going to be good, when she didn't find the treasure, what a weird feeling. Shawna shook it off. The treasure was hers.
"You think you can take my treasure?" The space pirate captain's hologramatic ghost stood in her way.
"So, you're Red Raven. Notorious brigand, mutineer and baroness. I'm here for your treasure, I knew it was real, I knew it all along." Shawna smirked. "The aliens, they worshipped you, but I know you're just a criminal." Shawna told her. "You even almost had me fooled with the Bindinfingin holograms making this sound like some sort of morality scam."
"Yet you made it all the way here." Red Raven smiled, proud of Shawna.
"Of course I did. You think I don't know what's real and what isn't?" Shawna laughed.
"The treasure is real. You just have to go through that door and accept what's on the other side." Red Raven pointed. "It's the treasure."
"See? You're still trying to psych me out. I'm abouts to be richer than John Godson. Sick of this." Shawna grabbed the handle, but something felt wrong.
"Just go through." Red Raven urged her.
"I can't." Shawna felt her eyes watering. "I just want to stay here. I'm not ready."
"You'll never be ready to be rich like John Godson. Nobody ever is. Just go in there already. I gots to get my wings, Shawna." Red Raven made 'go on in' gestures, shooing Shawna with the backs of her hands waving up at her.
"If this is any kind of treasure that isn't money, I swear I'm coming back here for you, and even though you're dead, I'll choke you out anyway." Shawna told Red Raven.
"Yes-yes, all that. Now go through already, the hour draws late." Red Raven seemed to have unlimited patience, despite her efforts to urge Shawna into the treasure behind the weird creepy disembodied door floating in the swamp. The door that looked suspiciously like her bedroom door as a child, growing up. Not liking this one bit, no sir.
Shawna took a deep breath, closed her eyes, turned the handle and went through.

FRANKFURT - Former Japan captain Makoto Hasebe played the final game of his career in Eintracht Frankfurt's 2-2 home draw with Leipzig in the German Bundesliga on Saturday.
The 40-year-old Hasebe, who captained Japan in three straight World Cups from 2010 while spending 17 seasons in Germany, came on as a substitute in added time at the end of the match.
Hasebe joined the J-League's Urawa Reds out of high school in 2002 and initially thrived as a dribbler before turning himself into a versatile player following his move to Wolfsburg, with whom he won his only Bundesliga title in 2009.
Following a year at Nurnberg, Hasebe joined Frankfurt in 2014 and gained legendary status at the club after winning the German Cup in 2018 and the Europa League in 2022.
The veteran was handed a unique contract that year allowing him to decide when he would quit playing and move into a coaching role at the club.
Known for his leadership and stamina, Hasebe, who played as a deep-lying defender in recent years, was lauded by many including Germany's former World Cup-winning captain Lothar Matthaus.
Also on Saturday, Leverkusen, who had already secured their first Bundesliga title, became the first team in the league's history to go undefeated over a full season with 28 wins and six draws.
Among other Japanese players in the Bundesliga, Ritsu Doan scored his seventh goal in Freiburg's 2-1 loss at Union Berlin.
Kyodo News

I stumbled upon GZCLP as I searched through many online powerlifting programs hoping to find one that would end my plateau. GZCLP has helped me end that plateau, as well as increasing many of my prs while also still being ripped!

My training background before GZCLP

I had originally lifted for a year and a few months before stumbling onto GZCLP. I was around 69kgs, split was push pull legs and my physique was pretty nice, but I definitely felt like I needed to bulk more and put on some weight. My previous prs were:
Squat: 130kgs (287 pounds)
Bench: 97.5kgs (215 pounds)
Deadlift: 140kgs (308 pounds)

Current Stats, Diet, and GZCLP Routine

My current stats are 16 years old at 5'6 tall, 74 kgs. My routine was a bit weird at the start as I was still getting used to everything and also I felt like there were some stuff I needed to change, however my final routine had me do everything the same, except for OHP, which I switched out for any shoulder work ( I didn't care about OHP). I ran GZCLP 4 days a week, however I never failed any of my lifts, even until week 9. Oh yea, I could only run 9 weeks as I was going to be away for the next few weeks and thus 9 weeks was the most I could run it for. I never really cared or checked on my diet, I just knew I had to eat a lot to gain more. Since I am also still a teenager, I should be eating a lot so a day consisted of me just eating many snacks and fruits throughout the day apart from the three meals, as well as drinking a lot, like 3-4 cups, of milk per day.
Final stats:
Squat: 145kgs (320 pounds)
Bench: 110kgs (242 pounds)
Deadlift: 165kgs (363 pounds)
I am very proud of my results, especially with only 9 weeks. However there were some things I felt like I could've done better. Of course if I had more weeks I would've extended the length of my program, especially since I didn't hit past failure for any of my lifts. I also feel like T2's were getting way more tiring and harder compared to T1s in the later weeks with more weight, could I exchange them out for other similar lifts? I had used the same SBD lifts for T2, and I think if I changed them to a different lift it would be much easier on my body, as I would feel so much more tired after T2s in the heavier weeks. I also didn't do OHP at all, so maybe I could've swapped it out with something more productive compared to random shoulder lifts???
Moving forward, I reckon I will continue with GZCLP (unless I find another program), but I have some questions. I still want to keep it 4 days but I want to know what I can do instead of any OHP work? Can someone help me on that? Also could I potentially start doing T3's for hypertrophy work, so maybe like 4 or 3 sets of 8 reps, with a weight that is not too light but definitely doable? Thanks in advance!
Overall, GZCLP has definitely taken my gym journey to a whole new level! I loved doing it and hoping will still continue on with it :)) Also thanks to everyone that helped me get onto this journey, I remember at the start where I made a post and a lot of yall helped me start this journey

I’ll use fake name to complicate things less. So a brief backstory, my friend Oscar and I briefly met in high school, didn’t really hang out all that much. Then I left for the Military right out of high school and didn’t think of him much. But on Leave we ran into each other ther and ended up kissing and talking to each other as if we really liked each other. Then when I finished my contract I moved back to my hometown and we became best friends. I didn’t really think of him that way anymore and he didn’t either. I ended up having a crush on a completely different friend named Ronaldo but it wasn’t reciprocated. After about a year Oscar got a new house and wanted two friends to move in with him, and it ended up being me and Ronaldo.
I spent over a year going in and out of a crush on Ronaldo because he seemed to always know what exactly to say to keep me strung along. So while this was going on I had no romantic thoughts about Oscar at all. Last year Oscar started dating this guy Alex. Neither Ronaldo or I could stand the guy, he always makes every conversation about himself and he just brags non stop in such a douchey way. For the most part he’s a good guy, just really annoying.
So in recent events there’s been some changes. We all went to a friends wedding a few weeks ago and after everything Ronaldo and I had an actual conversation about my feelings, because he was doing this thing where he kept flirting all night with me and if the feeling wasn’t returned I didn’t want that dynamic anymore, during this he said he wasn’t romantically interested, and I decided from there to completely move on.
So a few days later me and Oscar were talking about an inside joke we used to have but couldn’t remember so we went deep into old messages and found the ones from when we liked eachother. We laughed about it. Then that night Oscar goes “Jake can I ask you something?” And I said “sure” and he said “Can we kiss again?” And I said that it was okay as long as he was comfortable with it. We ended up cuddling and having sex that night.
I promised i wouldn’t tell anyone we know (aka why I’m here on Reddit) and Oscar told me it wasn’t going to be a regular thing. And I said it was fine as long as he's okay with it. After I went back into the living room, I heard from Ronaldos room that he was awake, but have no idea if he knew what just happened. The next day Oscar kissed me again and again said it wasnt going to be a regular thing.
After it happened whenever Alex came over I noticed that he was nicer to me than he was to Alex. Like in the morning when he made coffee and breakfast he asked if I wanted a cup and plate and didnt ask Alex at all. Three days later Oscar and I were home alone, and he started it again. We cuddled and kissed a bit then he started venting to me about Alex, saying that he really isn't sure if he even loves him anymore, that he found out Alex was talking to someone else, and that he doesnt even like Alex touching him anymore. I asked him if this was some kind of payback thing and he said no. He kept asking if I was okay with all this because he doesnt want to hurt me and I said as long as he's okay with it all. Then we had sex again. Then Ronaldo came home from work, but had to leave again because he had to visit his mom, then the second he left Oscar and I went at it again. Then Ronaldo came back then left for dinner, and Oscer and I had sex for the third time that day. Then Oscar took me to dinner, and after we got home, sex for the 4th time that day.
This was about 3 days ago, 2 days ago Alex came over because they had a trip to Vegas planned, and right now theyre at EDC. Right now the house is just me and Ronaldo. Last night Ronaldo came up to me crying his eyes out saying "Theres this guy who used to like me, and I always turned him down, but I think he's moved on but now he's been doing stuff with someone better than me, and its so unfair." and I have no idea what the hell he means.
Now I'm all confused because for some reason I now feel like I'm jealous of Alex, I have no idea what's going on in either Oscar OR Ronaldos head, and I'm not really sure I know what I even feel.

In kindergarten (sorry I'm from singapore so we follow British but if im not wrong its like 5-6 years old) I already accepted Christ into my life. But my mom is a "I hate Christians!!" kind of person so I didnt dare to tell her anything. I didn't really have a good relationship with my mom cos to her studies are everything and she made me (until now) think that I'm never good enough. And I was only in primary school thinking my mom doesn't like me. I'm worthless, I want to kms. I made plans to grab the knife from the kitchen, jump off and things like that. Eventually I resulted to scratching my own skin cos I feel most pain when it's right at the nerve uk.
My whole life was until the end of primary school (12) was only to do things to make my mom happy. I wouldn't mention a word about Christianity to her. And when my mom was out at night, me, my dad and my sisters would worship. The moment the door opens, I scramble into the room. This also make me walk far from God and I would curse, swear and stuff. One day in P6, the last year of primary school (12 years old) I thought "Hey, I'm Christian so why am I swearing? Isn't this a sin?" So I stopped cursing. Of course, my mom wouldn't want me going around cursing but I didn't really do it for her, but rather for God. But I still didn't want to tell her about it.
When I graduated from Primary school, in Secondary (Sec) school, I finally got to bring my phone to school (13 years old), but my mom still could track me. Anyways I got to listen to some worship songs my dad sent to me and because I didn't have a music player downloaded and wasn't allowed to download any apps, I would listen through the WhatsApp audio player thing😭😭 on the way home. Usually on Sundays whene my mom isn't home,my dad would bring me to church. Then of course my mom would find out and scold me and this continued until sec 2 (14).
In Sec 3 (15 years old), I had whole control of my phone so I would listen to worship music on the way home. One day in, my dad brought me to church. My mom saw my location and immediately got mad because she knew where my dad's church is and also because my older sister attends service too and my mom was not happy. Since then, I was afraid to go to church. My mom even cornered me one day and made me promise not to go to church or I can forget calling her my mom. I kept crying that night and never dared to go to church (mind that i dont even cry often).
But towards mid year(?) I just decided ok Imma go to church. She can get angry but it won't really stop me. Because I got to know God through worship songs and now I wanted to know him more.
I regularly started praying in the morning on the way to school. Eventually my prayers became a ritual and dry. I felt no emotion and no pull towards God. Only on days when I was really upset/angry then I would feel Him comforting me. One day I really wanted to be the captain in my CCA (it's like after school activities but still part of school programs) and I didn't get it. I was so upset I cried on the way home because I actually put in so much effort into it. Then I became vice captain so ig that counts.
Anyways I became really upset and got frustrated because I didn't prove myself enough. I had so low expectations of myself, got depressed again, but I couldn't vent it out because I couldn't hurt myself anymore after learning my body is a temple of God. So I got super frustrated. I prayed for guidance decided to free up my Saturdays I went to church. Youth services for Secondary school students were on Saturdays and not Sundays so yeah. Towards like October last year I cleared up my Saturdays so I could go more regularly to church, and my mom was defo not happy AT ALL that I went with my own initiative. She ignored me for several weeks and of course I felt lonely and all buy eventually I felt okay because she doesn't even know me sooooo.
I'm still trying to patch up my relationship with her. Honestly, it's so strained I don't know what to do. I've prayed that she would accept Christ everyday but uhh nothing. This doesn't mean I don't believe in God if not this would not exist
One day I was fellowshipping with my dad. Why we did that is because of a long story that would be saved for another day.
But this is the part where it's important
Previously I had dreams and I shared with my dad because he is more experience in deciphering gifts and stuff (I'm sorry if you don't believe in gifts but I do!) And he told me to pray about it because I somehow knew these dreams had meaning and relation to God. A number of dreams had direct inference to God. I did pray about it, and also asked God along these lines; "God, give me guidance. I have strayed and I know. Lord please let me understand, and let me also be close to You. I want to know You, and I know, I haven't read the word. Lord, motivate me to read the scripture, and while reading let me also understand the dreams I have been having my whole life."
I can't remember what I said exactly. The one 9f the church sermons on one week talked about how God is not far, but we are far. And I felt that that was for me. Then one day my dad said to me and my older sister "I don't care you have to download the Bible rn" so I downloaded it but did nothing with it. Finally, one day I was late for work (yes I worked when I was 15 because I actually want an electric guitar) and it was New Year's Eve. My colleague texted me saying she'd pick me up and I said and quote "Isokkk I walk over" (me) ... "Give me your block" (colleague) "Omd tyyy" (me)
Part of me didn't want her to fetch me because it would be troubling her. But I don't know why I waited and was thinking "bruh I could've reached by now but she's late" but I just waited. I was wearing full white that day. And this woman must've thought I was going to church because it was a Sunday morning.
And she asked "Hello, are you going to church?"
I said "oh no no, I have church at night because it's countdown service. (basically the youth services brought our church service from Saturday 4pm to Sunday 8pm because we wanted to countdown service together)"
She said," Oh! So you're Christian! Do you read the Word often?"
I blushed because so many signs and I haven't read a single word. "No," I was so embarrassed
She continued "I used to be a teacher, a lecturer in a University (if im not wrong) There is a website called 7 minutes with God. It was originally created for Harvard students because they were busy and didn't have time to spend time with God." Then I couldn't hear what she said because she was talking so fast. All I knew was she was summarizing the website and encouraged me to read it.
I read it like on January 2nd this year on the way to school ( I'm 16 this year!!! But not 16 yet because as I said, it's not my birthday yet or anytime soon)
I was so inspired that I kept on reading the Word and devoted mornings to not only prayers (that I allowed God to guide me and not just pray for the sake of praying) but also for reading the Word!
See, when I prayed to have motivation to read the Word more, God gave me the sign THREE TIMES which I did not pick up until the 3rd sign, the lady. The first time during the sermon I was like "Yes God, I will do it!" but did nothing. The second time when my dad asked me to download the app version of the Bible, I said "Yes God, this is the sign!" and did not do anything. I got discouraged because my dad thinks I'm funny and wouldn't take my words seriously omd 😭. But the third time, God literally sent a random woman I don't know and told me to read. And I read, praise God!
this is the part where it relates to the meme
Because when I went to the shower I kept laughing because I thought of this meme. I didn't read the word or get touched because it was a coincidence. So coincidence? I think not! It's a miracle ❤️❤️❤️
I finished Mark and the New Testament, I'm currently at John right now.
Just now, after a meeting with my cell group (a small group for easier prayers etc in church), I was listening to worship music, and my grumpy dad was like "GO AND SHOWER" liek chill brou. So I went to the toilet with my headphones on and sat on the floor and just continued listening to worship music. Then my dad sent in the family group chat (just me, my older sister and him, my mom got mad and left) an article about this man called Patrick Lee/Bezalel. He is a local artist faithful in Christ
But reading halfway I kept crying because I was so touched (again I do no lt cry, but I related so much I cried even though nothing had to do with me, but it was like my mother's story where she had a hard of stone towards God) and then my phone went flat 😐 So I risked it and ran out to get my charger but thank God (like actually) my dad didn't scream like he would. Then I sat at the toilet floor and continued reading. Tears kept flowing down my face because Patrick Bezalel's story was such a miracle, and God kept giving him signs that God existed! And removed the layer of stone that surrounded the man's heart and made it soft and open to God again!
After that I continued worshipping God and was listening to worship music (yes in the toilet because I literally have 0 privacy because none of my parents think I need it). I kept crying because the songs were so related. Can you imagine? It went in this order:
1.Presence,Power,Glory 2.Hosanna 3.Promises 4.Holy Forever
Again, coincidence? I THINK NOT. It was so planned, like it was in my playlist for so long and I haven't really thought much about it. Tears kept streaming down and kept going and through sobs I silently prayed to God
"Oh my dear God you have been so so good to me, and so faithful to me Lord. You have guided me, guided my heart and nothing has gone wrong in Your hands Lord. I've been through the turning point I've prayed for. You have sent people, songs and my family members to come after me to open up to You Lord. Lord, I was having a CG (cell group) meeting and something just touched my heart. I am now sitting on the toilet floor and typing this, because Lord you have made a way to touch my heart, guide me through a prayer that came deep down from inside of me Lord, thank You for providing. Thank You God for the miracles You have did in my life, and all that I prayed for has came through Lord. The turning point I prayed for was when that lady had spoken to me about how to set aside time for You and the Word. Lord let me not forget this incident, this turning point, this miracle Lord. Let me put my trust in You Lord, and let You take my hand and let my life be walking next to You faithfully Lord. Lord I pray that I would not waver, and I would not take my eyes away from You. Even when I am crossing and walking toward You on water in the sea, let my eyes be on You, and the works You have done for me, and not be distracted by the worls around me, but to keep my eyes on You diligently Lord. Lord, I am a sinner, and now, I was, for You have sent Jesus Christ, Your Son, to die on the cross for me. Lord, I believe in You and I want to accept You in my life Lord, no matter what situation I am in. Lord, let people around me see Your love, joy, and faithfulness in me, and not let them see the girl I was before. Let them see change, and the love and desire I have for You, Lord. Let them see Your greatness, Your goodness and You. I thank You for everything You have done, and in Jesus's name, I pray that I will walk faithfully alongside You, and will not fail to continuously pray and worship You God. Thank You Lord for the miracles, for this turning point. Thank You God for guiding me, and let me be the branch that bears fruit, and let me be the branch that has life only through Jesus, Who is the vine, Who the reason I live Lord, Who is the reason I have life. Praise the Lord! Amen!"
This is the first time I prayed for so long and every one word was truly from deep down fron the depths of my heart. I couldn't stop crying. I really couldn't and I can't emphasize more that I don't cry often! Either it hurt me so much or that God moved my heart. This time was tears of joy.
I hope this could inspire someone out there, because in another prayer I prayed for those who needed God, even if I didn't know them.
Pray. Pray and ask God to help you seek Him. One thing I learnt from a sermon is the fervency in your prayers. I didn't mean to add this in but I suddenly saw this note I wrote on 25th February.
Title: fervency in prayer Fervency: being excited about something keen on something
At the heart of revival is the spirit of prayer • pray fervently • pray with faith
"But Jesus often withdrew to lonely places and prayed"
To be fervent in prayer is to pray tenaciously despite our struggles
Hopefully this helped someone out there, inspired you and is one of your signs to start giving your life to Him! It is actually proven 1 in 3 people are Christians. Isn't our goal to have this faith to reach all four corners of the world? It could sound impossible in the past, but now there is social media, anyone could read and realize "Hey God is actually with me!"