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Hi everyone! I told myself I'd post on here to pay it forward as someone who has spent a lot of time obsessively lurking on this sub.
I took the GRE last Saturday and got a 163V 168Q. Thought I'd share some of my thoughts/ perspective in case it's useful!
Things I'm glad I did: 1. Giving quant the respect it deserves!!! I took the GRE in college, and as a CS major who had taken really difficult math classes, I had this perception that it would almost be embarrassing if I had to study hard for the quant section. With this approach, I was never able to break 162. This time around, I made sure to give it the respect it deserves and was able to get a higher score.

Spending time on the fundamentals This one is controversial, and I'm not sure what the "best practice" is, but for the first three months of studying, I focused most of my efforts on completing TTPs quant course. It was long and it took a while to get through, esp because I was taking diligent notes and completing all the problems / chapter tests, but I found it to be really useful in setting me up for success when I began doing real practice problems.
Doing timed problems After getting the fundamentals down, I focused on doing a ton of timed problems. I used the 5lb book and the Big Book for this. I would have a stopwatch going on my phone and hit the lap button every time I finished a problem. Then, I would literally log in an excel which ones I got right and wrong, how long they took, and (1) why exactly I got questions wrong and (2) why a question took me a long time if I spent more than 3 min on it. I found timed practice with logging helpful because it helped unearth some of my flaws in test taking. For example, it made me realize how many arithmetic errors I made and how many questions I missed from just not reading the question carefully. So then I was able to make some mental notes on what I wanted my "question protocol" to be (I.e read each question twice, slight pause to make sure arithmetic is correct, etc.)
Practice hard problems If you want to break a 165, the reality is that a majority of the questions you get will be medium and hard. Which means you have to get good at answering hard questions correctly and quickly. The only way to do this is by more practice. I used the following sources for a repository of hard questions to drill: (1) Advanced quant section of 5lb book and (2) GregMat quant questions.

I can't stress this enough because the reality is the actual test was harder than any ETS practice tests so it's important to ensure you over prepare for advanced questions.
Mistakes I made: 1. Not preparing enough for verbal. When I first took the GRE 5 years ago, I got a near perfect verbal score. Additionally, I had gotten a good verbal score when I took a diagnostic GRE so I didn't think it was pertinent. That was a bad decision because the verbal section was REALLY hard and I know I left points on the table by not studying for it

Freaking out over everything This whole process was really emotionally draining. I never got great practice test scores and it made me question my value, my intelligence, and my worth throughout. I just want to stress (understood it's way easier than done) to try your best to just enjoy the process and not ruin your mental health over this test!

Other little tips: 1. The first free PP1 is INCREDIBLY deceptive. I am convinced ETS made it way easier than the other practice tests / the actual GRE bc they know people are going to use it as a diagnostic, score higher than they think, and therefore decide to take the GRE over whichever competing exam. I scored a 165 on verbal, which made me think I didn't need to study much verbal BUT THIS IS A TRAP!!! So just keep this in mind before making any big decisions about your study plan.

Be judicious with ETS materials. Try your very best not to exhaust them early in your prep journey since there isn't a lot out there
It is true, the actual GRE is harder than the practice tests. I don't mean to inspire anxiety in anyone, but it is true unfortunately. So it is best to over prepare.
The GRE big book is helpful but keep in mind the quant is way easier than the actual GRE. I think the book was made at a time when students had less time per problem and there was no calculator involved. So just keep in mind that most quant problems are going to be on the easy side

Please let me know if you have any questions, and I'd be happy to answer!

Whenever I look up stuff, eg. gaming videos, I often get one specific channel that I've already put on hidden (about->hide this channel) and reported, as it posts just unrealistic videos that have gory "spore" removal and are just some kind of an ad. And then there's a reocurring shaving video (from a different channel), where the guy looks like he's sick, but I googled how to hide channels only after refreshing the search results, and it hasn't appeared since then .
I don't look up any skincare topics, so I have no idea why it keeps appearing even after I've blocked it? They always appear several result in as an ad or those suggested for you results, so they're not related to my search at all, but I hate it. How can I remove them from popping up, esp. as it's not related to any videos I look up?
I've noticed that although I clicked on "hide this user", it keeps being reset, once or twice it actually stayed when I went to the channel page to see if it's hidden, and now after a half an hour, it's unhidden again...
Is there a way to block it? I don't have a youtube channel, I'm just logged into my google account, is that perhaps why the option to "hide the user" doesn't stick? I can't comment on videos and can't click on "report user" from the channel, as it tells me to make a youtube channel, but I can report it when it appears in the search results or from the video itself directly.
Is the block function perhaps hidden behind the report button for the whole channel? And that'd actually let me completely block it? (I don't see a reason to make a channel, so I thought i'd ask if it'd do anything before making one...)
EDIT: I NOTICED THE TITLE IS AMBIGUOUS, I WANT TO COMPLETE BLOCK THE CHANNEL FROM APPEARING in my results ever again.

Leo: So you’re gonna tell me about this thing on my hand?
Ky: Yes they’re command seals.
Leo: Command seals?
Ky: They allow you to force commands on your servant. Even force them to teleport to you.
Leo: Really?
Ky: Yes but you have a limited number of them so be careful with how and when you use them.
Saber walked into the room now dressed in more casual clothes. She smiled as she walked towards Leo.
Leo: Oh hey Saber!
Saber: Hello Leo! Why did you have all these clothes for me?
Leo: It’s my mom’s stuff she probably won’t be coming back any time soon so…
Ky: That’s depressing…
Leo: What else do I gotta learn?
Saber: Well master it seems your low mana has left me in an incomplete state.
Leo: What?
Ky: Let me put it like this. Servants can manifest and demanifest. They can watch over you spiritually and protect you physically and yet your lack of mana means Saber must constantly retain physical form.
Leo: Wow… I must suck…
Saber: You don't suck at all master you are simply new in magecraft there is nothing to be ashamed of.
Ky: What she said! Now then I wanna teach you-
Ky’s phone rang from his pocket so he stopped himself and pulled out his cell phone looking at the screen and answering.
Ky: I will be back… I'm gonna have my ear talked off…
Ky walked outside and Leo sighed.
Leo: And he’s gone…
Saber: Leo there’s one last thing you should know.
Leo: Yeah?
Saber: Our servants have true names. Obviously, my name isn’t really Saber. We go by the name of our classes: Saber, Archer, Lancer, Rider, Assassin, Caster and Berserker.
Leo: Oh what's your real name then?
Saber: I, unfortunately, request I don't share my true name, Leo. Normally we hide our true names so our legends and tales that hold our weaknesses by those who may know them can not be exploited. While I would tell you for strategy in the upcoming war… I'm afraid there's a chance a master or servant may be able to easily read your mind due to the fact you are an amateur mage.
Leo: Oh I understand! Don't worry that's fine!
Saber: Master- excuse me, Leo, do you happen to have any plans?
Leo: I was going to pick up something at my friend's house.
Saber: Oh?
Leo: I left my homework there when he helped me study! So I wanted to pick it up before tomorrow! Since that’s when school starts up again!
Saber: Allow me to accompany you!
Leo: Uhh why?
Saber: What if a servant or even a master spots you alone in the streets? You may be attacked!! If I'm with you I should be able to protect you!
Leo: I guess… hehe… how am I going to explain this…

We cut to Saber and Leo walking towards Leo’s friend's house. It was a warm Tuesday and honestly, Leo just wanted to relax outside. But he figured that may be dangerous. He knocked on his friend's door and a young man who looked slightly younger than Leo opened the door.
Leo: Hey Pat!
Pat: Leo! What up?! Who's the lady?
Leo: This is my friend Saber! Saber meet Pat!
Pat: Saber…
Saber: Hello Mr.Pat.
Pat: Please call me Pat! Come in you both!
Path skipped along the carpet floor as both Saber and Leo entered the house. It was way bigger than Leo’s old place. Leo walked around and yawned as it was still early in the morning.
Saber saw something that would capture her eye. A painting that seemed to be twice the size of her. It was a painting of 7 different warriors running towards a grail.
Saber: Why would-
Leo: You ok Saber?
Saber: I believe so…
She told herself to not be paranoid mentally and to wait till Leo was home to bring this up.

We see Ky inside a dojo. Scattered on the walls were splashes of purple staining the otherwise clean brown logs that made up the walls.
Ky: Sensei I-
???: Don’t bother. You failed to summon the seventh servant.
Ky: But it was because-
???: You wanted to save a kid you didn't know. It's noble but…
He walked into view from the shadows his sensei was…
Elegant: Let me tell ya, kid! You suck!
Ky: Rude…
Elegant: You don't visualize yourself winning. You give your life to protect others. You should be risking your life instead.
Ky: What-
Elegant flicked his forehead.
Elegant: Once you visualize winning you'll understand the difference between fighting to give your life and fighting while risking it.
Ky: Yes Sensei…
Elegant: Now from here on out… I'm not gonna bail out if a master or servant tries to kill you!
Ky: You weren't doing that anyway!
Elegant: Womp womp.
He smiled as he looked up with his blue eyes shining as sunlight pierced through the windows.
Elegant: Get strong Ky… strong enough to surpass me!

Ky was walking back to Leo’s house. He just so happened to meet Leo and Saber at the entrance as they began returning home as well.
Ky: Hey you both!
Leo: Yo! Ky!
Saber: Hello Ky. We have things to discuss.
Ky: I figured…
Saber: I may just be paranoid but… I'm worried that a friend of Leo’s may be aware of the Holy Grail War.
Leo: You don't mean Pat?
Saber: I'm afraid I do…

One week before the seventh servant had been summoned.
Pat: I summon you! I ask for your help today! Help be scorned the world and fight back against all things! Please tell me this works…
Summoned right before his eyes in the dark candle-lit room. A tall blonde man in full golden armor.
Pat: The king of kings…
Blonde Man: You better be worth my time. You may be my master but don't expect me to bend the knee I won't hesitate to crush you should you prove a hindrance.
Pat: Y-yes sir!
Blonde: Either way. I am your Archer class servant. Gilgamesh.

I, 18F have been dating my boyfriend 20M for five months, and have recently discovered he’s talking to many of his exes/ex situationships.
I already knew he was in contact with one- who very recently had a kid. But I found out recently that he (right before me) had a ten month “situationship” with a girl. And I found out even more recently that they regularity talk and she gave him an expensive birthday gift, which was a few days ago.
I have less of a problem with him being in contact or friends with his first ex, because he 1) has explained their whole dynamic to me, 2) she has a child with another man, and 3) it was a long time ago.
He also had a really rough end to a long term relationship in the middle of those two- which left him broken. He still mourns losing her- which is why we took so long to become official. I was okay with that and wanted to simply be there for him. They do not talk, but I wholeheartedly believe that if she gave him the chance he would go back to her. He said that he became a better person for her, and in the beginning of our relationship he said he couldn’t say “I love you” because he was still in love with someone else. We have been saying those words for around two months now. Their relationship ended because he cheated on her twice.
Though I trust him, there is the thought of him doing that. And he hasn’t made a promise he won’t- and had explained to me that he fears he will do it again. He said if it did I would know immediately (which I suppose is good but I really do not want that doubt in my mind)
I’m not sure if he’s deleted tinder (where we met) but I know he’s not logged in on his phone.
He hasn’t given me a reason not to trust him, as he is very honest and upfront.
At one point in our relationship he drunkenly admitted to hooking up with someone while we were hooking up- a mutual friend. Which he took back after saying that he didn’t know what he was saying and that he never slept with her. I wouldn’t have cared if he hadn’t told me earlier that I was the only one he was seeing. Their friendship is over, so it doesn’t really matter. And there’s no way for me to truly ever find out the truth.
Don’t get me wrong, I am madly in love with this man, and would pretty much go through hell and back for him. And I’m sure he would for me too, but there are a few stories that don’t add up, and a few insecurities that make me question things.
We try to communicate our feelings, but we don’t communicate in the same way, so sometimes it is hard to get either point across.
I sat down with him and told him I didn’t know how comfortable I was with him taking to his most recent “relationship”. To that he didn’t understand. He had no clue why anyone would be upset about another person talking to their ex. He said that they simply were friends, and that was all. He clarified that he felt nothing about her. And also asked why I was worried about her rather than the long term ex. Our conversation went in circles. And he couldn’t see that I just needed clarification and a bit of perspective, because I had none previously.
I’m in a bit of a pickle, he said he wouldn’t just cut people out of his life. Which I suppose I have no right in asking. He also clarified that if we somehow didn’t work out- he would still be open to being friends, as he still cares for these people- including me. I think I may see sex an a more sacred thing than him. As I believe that sex is between two people who love eachother. I hate casual sex and wish I didn’t participate in it.
He also mentioned that he didn’t believe relationships were “serious” until the one year mark. I asked him if he didn’t believe our situation was “serious” . He said that if we broke up right now he would consider me a girl he got to know. we are official and exclusive. That hurt.
I’m not usually the jealous type but I seem to be acting out on my insecurities. Would one be worried in my circumstances? What do I do to ease my mind and trust him?
TLDR: boyfriend received a birthday gift from his ex, I am worried about loyalty and the true meaning behind this. After talking about it, there are still laps in communication and understanding.

Why the actual fuck do the driver changes take so fucking long and how are they a complete fuckup 80% of the time?
- Most of the time the next driver is late.
- When they log into the system they have to spam a button about a hundred fucking times for some fucking reason because they probably outsourced their software to a third world country.
- When we have to physically change buses half the time they fuck it up and we're left standing there for 5 minutes while they try to unfuck it and we end up getting charged twice what we should have to our HOP cards.
I love waiting 30 minutes for 3 OUT buses to come right up the ass of each other. What a complete fucking waste of time and money. The driver of 2 of the OUT buses should go to the pub or something so we can save money on diesel because they are doing absolutely nothing useful whatsoever driving around for no fucking reason. We could honestly decommission a few OUT buses and it would make no difference whatsoever to the frequency of buses.
I just checked my HOP card transactions and I've been overcharged for about 1/4 of them. I've apparently got on at some stops I've never been to in my life.
I can't even start talking about the trains because there is a real possibility I could burst a blood vessel and I'm not willing to take that risk at this time.

The people running AT are clearly a bunch of useless, incompetent wankers. The entire work force should be fired and they should start again.
If you added up the value in lost productivity from AT's incompetence it would probably amount to 10x their annual budget.

Hey all, 4th Wall here. The little storm that blew threw upended my, sort of, schedule. So, I'm just decided to write what came to mind first then alternate from there. Hope you guys enjoy the Episode.
First, Previous, Next (Patreon)
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Benjamin stared at the exhausted looking Farie in shock, “How much time do we have?”. Jukha simply stood, stepped over to the floorboards near the fireplace, and began ripping them up with his bare hands. After several planks yielded to his strength, Jukha pulled out a pair of packs, and handed one to Vilora. “Oh” Ben stated flatly, having been given the answer to his question. He turned to see the sisters already packing up their packs, and Ben began the same.

In moments, the four were ready to go, slipping out the back door and into the forest. Benjamin paused, “Hold on a moment.” He turned to look back at the house, reaching out with one hand before clenching it into a fist. He ripped the heat out of the roaring fire dispelling it into the air before kneeling down and placing both hands on the ground. Vilora gasped quietly at the power Benjamin began wielding a dangerous amount of Majik. He pulled from the depths of the world itself, summoning pure compounds from the ground and from various natural sources. He used the refuse in Jukha’s farmyard to provide him with the last of the required ingredients. It wouldn’t be much, but Benjamin relit the fireplace, forcing the flames to turn a few of the remaining logs into charcoal without burning them.
Extinguishing the flames once more, he combined the components he had acquired, before willing the concoction up into the flue and packing it around the circumference of the inside of the brick chimney. Vilora stepped up to him, touching his shoulder with a trembling hand, “What… what have you done. I felt it, but I don’t understand it.”
Benjamin took a long cleansing, and slightly shakey breath. The exertion left him feeling drained for a moment. He turned to her, expression was grim, but he patted her hand on his forearm, “Giving us some breathing room. They will search the house. I’ve just left them a little surprise.” He stood, looking towards the forest, “how do we get to your sisters.”

Vilora nodded and they followed her into the forest, it was not a long walk. And after about 20 minutes they came to a clearing with a strange tree in the middle. “Please, Ben. Whatever happens next, know that we are not Fay. Promise me.” Benjamin heard the fear in her voice wondering if it was from what he had just done, or something deeper. He nodded once absently, his musket already unslung and in his hands. He had loaded a buck and ball cartridge into it before they left the cabin, knowing that he was only going to get one shot in an ambush. Viola had his original flintlock pistol in her hand, and Valtrya was semi hiding behind her sister with Bens Stiletto dagger clutched tightly in her fingers. “Very well,” the Farie stated, and turned to face the tree. Her wings quickly began glowing a vibrant green, and they fluttered violently as she began to chant something in her native tongue.

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The Hunters arrived, led by the singular Orc from the capital guard. He was the same one that had been spared by Benjamin just over a week earlier. He brought with him a tracker. Ski’murika was one of the arachnid people known as Sil’skira. This one was a flat grey to Mi’ki’s own jet-black carapace, and she skittered lightly into the room. The Sil’Skira had no sense of smell, but their sense of taste bordered on the supernatural. She raised one leg to her mandibles, tasting the ground around them, before dipping it into a bowl and repeating the process, “four of them. An Orc, a Fay, two Aereesin females, and… a strange one. I’ve not sampled this one before, but he carries majik’s sour aftertaste.” The Soldier orc, and the three other Hunters managed to not cringe. The Sil’Skira were known for their wide… pallet… as far as what they considered food. Many a sentient being had been turned to a husk by a hungry Sil, and The Orc did not doubt that this one came by her… flavor recognition… honestly. The other three; a Hellirine named Jazeel, her twin brother named Jeraal, and a Mountain troll who’s name defied pronunciation gave the Sil a wide birth, stepping up to the fireplace. “Well, while we’re here. Lets warm our bones.” Jazeel casually began stacking wood and kindling atop the chared remains of an apparently freshly quenched fire. “How far do you think they could have gone?”

“Not far” the Sil’Skira stated absently, “Their food is but lukewarm. I can still taste the spittle on the strange one’s spoon.” She turned to pad over to the fireplace. The Soldier orc, named Gurrut leaned up against the table, “Should we really be stopping for a fire? If they are so close?” Jeraal only smirked, “It’s a long game boss. They may not have gotten far, but they will be frantic. Look at how they left. Something, or someone warned them. They will be ill prepared. No, better to keep our pace. We will wear them down easily in the mor..”

Jazeel lit a spark into her tinder box while her brother was talking. She placed it into the fireplace and the kindling lit quickly. A single twig flared up, sending an ember into the flu where Benjamin had packed his quickly made gunpowder. It ignited instantly, and the flu provided enough constriction to pressurize the reaction. The fireplace detonated in a weak, but effective improvised bomb. The brickwork shattered into shards of deadly fragmentation, Jareel simply ceased to exist, being turned to a cloud of yellow blood and internal organs trimmed in red skin and white bone fragments. Her brother’s head was caved in by a large brick chunk, sending skull bone spalling deep into his brain, rending it to ribbons. He died before he hit the floor. The Sil’Skira’s abdomen popped like a balloon in the over pressure wave, and she quickly curled into a quivering ball as her blood pressure dropped, no longer fighting against her leg muscles. Their employer, the soldier orc from the capital, lost his arm above the elbow. His armor saved his vital organs however, but one shard threaded the needle, taking his right eye. The Mountain troll was thrown to the far wall, but Her naturally resilient body survived both the shockwave and the fragmentation impacts. She picked herself off the floor, stumbling to the screaming capital guard. She bound his wounds quickly before taking a flaming shard of the sabotaged fire and searing the stump to stop the bleeding. She then left him there. There was no point in anything else. The hunt was over.

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Benjamin tried not to stare, but he was failing miserably. Jukha’s Farie wife’s body was glowing bright green now, and he almost had to shade his eyes if he tried to look directly at her. She was not the only one he was struggling not to stare at. Viola’s explanation and subsequent revelation had taken him by surprise. He realized that he had treated them like children, pupils at best. Benjamin had focused on training them to be free, turning a blind eye to the relationship forming between them and himself. *You are not forcing us to do anything but leave* He ran that statement over in his mind. The “leave you” was implicated heavily, and it ate at him. He did not want to force these girls to do anything. Yet, despite his best efforts, he was forcing something on them anyway. He silently both cursed his situation and cursed his own ignorance. He found that, if he was truthful with himself, he did not want them to leave either; and that more personal revelation brought its own paradox. He could not bear to own them as property, but the thought of leaving them tore at him with similar pain.

“It is almost time!” Benjamin looked back from where he was keeping watch, Vilora was panting heavily, her painfully bright glowing wings drooping slightly, “I won’t be able to keep the connection for long!” She called as the tree in front of them began to creak. Two of its great limbs began to move on their own accord, groaning under forces older than space and time. Benjamin’s eyes widened as the two branches slowly formed a sphere, then his head snapped around at the sound of a dull thud emanating from the direction they had come. He smiled grimly. His little IED must have been triggered, and with any luck, taken their pursuers with it.

“Ready yourselves!” Jukha called, and Ben turned back to a view he had not expected in his wildest dreams. ‘you’ve gatta be shitting me’ He thought as a rippling green mirror filled in the center of the circle created by the branches of the tree. Benjamin felt the sisters at his side. And he nodded to them, “you first. I’ll cover our six.” Vi raised an eyebrow at the odd expression but nodded. Taking her sister’s hand and stepping through the portal. They were closely followed by Jukha, who seemed absurdly calm about the whole thing. Benjamin held his ground, slowly backing toward the portal while he kept his eye on the tree line.

“Benjamin. Hurry, I can’t.. I can’t hold!” Vilora’s frantic tone moved Benjamin into action, He spun on his heels, slipping his musket to his left hand and scooping up Vilora as he passed her at a full sprint. He jumped as the portal sputtered, passing through it and into a familiar tunnel that he remembered from his first meeting with the Celestial, Sol. This one was a minute fraction of the distance, however, a single step in fact. His feet landed on soft moss and an earthy smell alerted him to his change of location. His eyes began to adjust to the much dimmer light as he set Vilora’s exhausted form on the ground gently. His eyes peeled away the darkness after a moment and Benjamin grunted, tucking the butt of the musket under his right arm as he thumbed the hammer and slapped the frizzen in place. He drew his sword/pistol hybrid and settled the sights on a second being, who just so happened to have the misfortune of being ordered to bind the sister’s wrists. The mechanical sounds of his weapons attracted the attention of everyone in attendance, but his voice froze them in place, “unbind them… now” he growled.
His musket, loaded with Buck and ball, was trained on a small group of Farie’s standing in close formation with thin lances rested base to the on the ground. The other Farie was currently holding the rope leash to the sisters. He glanced at the small squad of lancers, “you move, you die.” His tone bore icy promise on its wings, and even Jukha could not bring himself to act. “Benjamin. Peace, please. These are my sisters. They are Vin. Remember your promise” Vilora’s voice cut through the silence first, and Benjamin glanced at her, then back at the scene in front of him. He took a long deep breath, sheathing his sword/revolver, and lowering his Musket. He did not sling it, he returned it so a muzzle up ready position designed to keep his ammunition from falling out of the barrel should he still need it. “Then please explain to them that I have a pathological aversion these women being bound, and that It would be in their best interest to release them...mediately.” Vilora’s eyes widened as she turned to see the state of Vi and Val. She spoke quickly, and the Vin who held the girls looked back at Ben in shock before frantically unbinding both Vi and Val. The girls sprinted to Benjamin, slamming into him with shaking embraces before he gently, but protectively pushed them behind him.

One of the Lancers, a Farie with more ornate armor on than the rest stepped forward and Benjamin turned to face her, not so subtly settling his musket into a position to easily kill her if he needed. The Fairie paused, clearly considering something before Vilora stepped over and laid a hand on her shoulder. She shook her head at the other woman, it was an almost imperceptible thing, but the other farie’s eyes widened as she regarded Benjamin again. “Peace, Beenjaymin.” She said finally, handing off her lance to a subordinate and opening her hands to show them empty. “We do not mean you harm, but we must protect what little we have left. The Matriarch wishes to see you, but we cannot allow you to meet here bearing arms. Please, understand.”

Benjamin hesitated, and Viola leaned around him to look up. He gave her a smiling glance before looking back at the Farie. She nodded in understanding, “I swear to you. Your… girls… will be permitted to stay at your side for the trip. Our sister has explained that they are not mere slaves to you.” Benjamin eyed her skeptically, and if this realms concept of honesty were not already explained to him, he would have not believed her. He slowly reached for the hammer on his musket, lowering it gently to half-cock before handing it slowly to the Farie who originally bound the sisters, “Do not touch anything on it. This is not a weapon you have any concept of, and it can kill 4 people at once.” He held her gaze until she nodded, “lean it against something. This side up, and DON’T touch it.” He then unhooked the scabbard from his belt, handing the revolver sword and its sheath to her as one unit, “Same goes for this. I’ll know if you touch it. It is very loud.” He did the same with Vi’s flintlock pistol, surprised that it didn’t go off when it was dropped on the ground during their capture. The stiletto dagger was the last, a familiar weapon to this realm that needed no explanation.

“Very well.” Benjamin said finally, “I believe that is everything.” The head lancer nodded, waving an arm elegantly toward the biggest live oak that Benjamin had ever seen. Benjamin thought it might be a live oak, at least. It stood twice the height of a California Red Wood but had the proportions of a Live oak. Massive drooping main branches arched overhead before touching the ground and returning skyward. Some of the largest limbs were the lowest and seem to bounce along the ground. Each grounding seemed to sprout smaller trees, and Benjamin felt his mouth fall open as they drew closer. The texture of the limbs sharpened as they closed, and Benjamin began to make out lit windows, carved into the tree limbs themselves.

Carved into the base of the tree was an ornate entrance with lettering that Benjamin didn’t recognize carved into the arches. Benjamin felt Viola take one of his hands, and Valtrya take the other. He ran his thumbs over the soft tops of their hands, trying to comfort them as much as he could. He felt them press up against him as they entered a throne room of some kind. On the far end, atop a series of steps was a throne, carved into the wall itself. “The Matriarch” Vilora whispered from behind him.

Ben halted several paces behind the lancer squad, bowing as he watched Vilora and Jukha do so out of the corner of his eye. “Rise” came the command from the ornately yet unarmored Farie sitting on the throne, “So tell me,” She asked, looking directly at Benjamin, who was keeping the girls directly behind him, “Are you the reason that my orders to bind the Aereesins were not followed?” Benjamin instantly regretted giving up his weapons. “I am,” he stated meeting her gaze unflinchingly. “Oh? You believe yourself above my command?” Her cold tone registered, and Benjamin slowly closed his fist, finding what he was looking for. A single guard, one not present at their arrival began to march toward him, hand on her sword.

Benjamin speared the guard with an icy glare, while talking to the Farie ruler, “I expected Vin to be more hospitable.” He reached out with one hand and the guard froze as he gripped the metal of her armor with his mind, “Especially with women baring Vin names in solidarity.” He slowly began to close his outstretched fist, and the guard inside the armor began screaming as the metal buckled, compressing against her body. Benjamin finally turned his icy gaze to the monarch, “My girls” He hated to use that card, but it was the only one he had that wasn’t lethal, “Have spent over a century being bound, tortured, raped, and degraded. I killed their former master, a Romoregin no less, for it. I killed his puke son’s champion for it. I’ve killed two capital guards for it. I will kill without mercy to keep bindings from touching their skin. So, my lady what are you willing to do to bind them.” He gave the guards armor another small squeeze, using the shrieking metal to punctuate his resolve.

The queen slowly stepped off her Throne, walking stoically over to her guard as she eyed Benjamin contemplatively. “Stand down, Vailin.” She said to the now trembling guard, but her eyes were on Benjamin. Benjamin slowly released his grip on her armor and she fell to the floor, weeping. “You two, get her to a healer.” The monarch ordered before taking to her wings and hovering up to face Benjamin at eye level. “You care so much for your slaves, yet you do not free them. Why is that.”

“Benjamin doesn’t want to keep us slaves!” Viola blurted out before she caught herself meekly adding “Your majesty” as the Monarch leveled a surprised but firm expression at her. “Oh? And yet you are still his, dear.” she said, turning back to Benjamin. Benjamin took a deep breath, “The principality would have resold them anyway. My only choice was to own them, teach them, then smuggle them to a free nation, or murder them by returning them to the system. Had we made it to Maridia, they would be emancipated already.” He met the Monarchs gaze levelly, “Their lives are in my hands… but at least their blood isn’t on them.”

“Hmm, compassion and violence of action. No wonder Cosmos touched you.” The Queen mused. Benjamin chuckled at the expression drawing a raised eyebrow from the Vin Monarch, “Something funny, young one?” and Benjamin gave her an amused smile, “It’s just that I’ve heard something like that before, from Sol. I believe the Orcs call her Suelin.”

This time, the Vin Monarch’s face smoothed of all expression as she failed to find any falsehood in Benjamin, “Come with me, please.” She stated it as a question, but her urgency peaked Benjamin's curiosity. The four of them followed the queen up to the throne. She pulled on an armrest and the throne slid into the wall to one side, revealing a simply carved passage into the heart of the tree.
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f you made it this far, I very much appreciate it. I hope you enjoyed the episode! If you believe I have earned it, I have a Patreon that is two episodes ahead of the free releases for this series. I hope you feel taking a look is worth it. Either way, come hang out in the comments. Everyone's welcome! I've discovered Im a bit of a "warts and all" poster, so even critical comments are welcome. Hell, You might even teach me something (it happens more than I'd like to admit).
I have heard people off and on reference Royal road, So I am going to give it another shot. I'll be adding the Royal Road link from now on. If you like reading over there, It is on the same schedule as here. I would greatly appreciate a like/review/comment if you feel so inclined. Thank you again for stopping by.
First, Previous, Next (Patreon) Royal Road

On the night when it all happened a young man called Smallmouth found himself in quite a pickle. He shivered and paced clumsily all over the second story porch of a cabin that used to be very nice, which overlooked a snowy down-sloping field that used to be kept up properly and carefully. He was already six packs deep into a carton of cigarettes he had bought only two days ago from a Casey’s General Store on his way up. He could recall the look on the young woman’s face at the register when he asked for a carton of Parliament Menthols, her eyes showing one blink of humorous surprise and another couple blinks of obvious concern, which faded to professional indifference as she rang in the sweet, icy killers. Smallmouth stopped his nervous dallying when he caught himself in the kitchen window; a large, shadowy figure sulking between the inside lights and the cold, almost glowing world downhill. His eyes still on his murky reflection, he patted his coat pockets for his seventh pack, pulling it out and smacking it against his left palm before cracking open and lighting it at his mouth. In a slow, warm flash, he could briefly see his own face in the window.
“Oh man, it’s bad” , he thought to himself.
He hadn’t shaved in weeks and his beard grew coarse and thick. A face that his mother had once called handsome had become a clean plate covered in steel wool. Well, maybe not so clean. Under and around his eyes were the obvious bruising of sleeplessness and his skin had lost its lively color and clarity of yesteryear.
“Ughhh” he groaned, turning away from the window to look over the porch and into the freezing, beckoning night.
The pickle that Jeremy “Smallmouth” Bassett found himself in involved his uncle, and his uncle’s evening logistics, to be precise. Smallmouth had been kicked out of his parents home on December 27th due to a slight misunderstanding at 2am when he believed the living room Christmas tree to be the downstairs bathroom. He had passed out on the couch after drinking a fire pit full of crushed Hamm’s cans and his brain tried desperately to get him up and to the nearby toilet. His little sister Stacy was tucked in fast asleep on a loveseat by the tree when she was brutally torn from her sugarplum dreams to hear the terrible hiss of Smallmouth’s folly. She screamed, the parents woke up, and, well, there you go. After well over three strikes, Smallmouth’s temporary residence had come to an end, and he was thrown to his mother’s brother’s cabin to dry up and straighten out before he could ever even be considered to return.
“You two deserve to live together. He can’t say no either because he owes me a lot more than this!” Smallmouth’s mother had screeched over him as he sat at the kitchen table the following morning with a cold bag of peas against his throbbing right temple. “You go there and you GET RIGHT!! I don’t care how long it takes just clean up your act and MAKE something of yourself! And for goodness sake tell Chuck to do the same, while he still has time!”
Yes, Uncle Chuck had his own shelf full of good time problems, and that’s what put Smallmouth in a bind tonight as he pondered over the white yonder that led to a black nothing, a black nothing that in the daylight pretended to be a forest. At night, it showed its true nature, an endless world of dark secrets and aching regret. At least that’s how Smallmouth saw it in this moment.
Chuck had gone down to the ranch he worked on for a New Years party with his work buddies. They liked to gather at the big barn where all of the vehicles and equipment were kept, sitting around a card table passing out stories about women and other trophy game that were either outright lied about or illegally poached. Oh, and they also liked to pass the bottle around. Therein lied the conundrum for Smallmouth.
Uncle Chuck was many things, but one thing he wasn’t was a drunk driver. Chuck’s wife Rebecca had been struck and killed by a drunk driver almost ten years ago when she was out jogging the back roads early one morning. Everyone assumed that’s what led him to his openly hard drinking and sneakily pill popping ways in the first place. For Chuck, most nights were kept at home, parked in front of a TV watching old westerns and cleaning out a full bottle of Wild Turkey 101 before snoring in his recliner. On the few nights he would go out, he would always call a ride if things got out of hand. As you can imagine, he tends to need a ride home.
“I should be home bout 11:30. Service ain’t so good up there near the barn so if it gets bout 11:15-11:20 and I ain’t home, go head and do me a favor and come grab me son.” Chuck had told Smallmouth before he left, closing the warped screen door behind him.
Smallmouth had spent the evening trying his best to stay entertained without the help of any chemical enhancement. His family’s anger and resentment really struck him and this time he was determined to truly get right and get his life back on the rails. He was 29 years old. He had gone through college clean as a whistle, bright and driven, receiving his MBA with plans to work his way up in a promising career in business. That worked for a couple years. Then he found a calling in ministry, deciding to quit the corporate world to fill an opening of a tiny country church in the area. They needed a deacon who could take care of things around the building and assist in the worship service. He wasn’t much for public speaking, haven been given the nickname Smallmouth at a young age due to his soft spoken nature, but he could pass plates and give a hushed prayer every now and then. He liked to mow and paint and help old ladies up the stairs. The quiet country life was really nice for him, for a while. Strange, radical ideas eventually spread through the church though, and half of its members left overnight to form their own congregation. Its funding cut in half, the church had to close its doors and the other members absorbed into other churches. Smallmouth rarely ever saw the people that had departed from the church, but rumors creeped that they met at an old abandoned building deep in the woods, performing all sorts of different acts and rituals that would purify themselves and destroy all evils. Nevertheless, Smallmouth was out of work and picked up shifts bartending at a small town dive. His soft fortitude was no match for the booze and drugs and women that would pass through there and soon he was out the door. That landed him mooching off of his parents, draining their sanity and eventually draining himself on their Christmas tree. The last strike.
So there he was all night, waiting up for uncle Chuck. He was two days clean of everything except caffeine and nicotine, a major improvement. He felt a boost of hope and confidence the first morning after a sober nights sleep. He found the mornings to be the best parts of the day. At least he had coffee and cigarettes to get him out of bed. That would wear off quickly and the rest of the day was filled with trying to find distractions until the sun set about 5pm. Then he would watch a movie or two with Chuck. Last night he had been able to call it early and go to sleep at 7pm shortly after Chuck started sawing logs in front of True Grit (the original John Wayne version of course). Tonight he saw 7pm struggle and churn into 8…….8:13……..8:48……9:05……9:29………..9:31………9:52……..9:58……….10:11…….10:12 (oh cmon)……10:27…….10:56…….and finally 11:08. It was like the clock was a 35 year old four cylinder engine oiled with crunchy peanut butter. Now, crunch time sat in the cold air as Smallmouth finished his cigarette and stewed over his decision. He really didn’t feel like going down to the barn and getting Chuck, even though it was only a couple miles. In the infancy of his sobriety he found the smallest of choices and activities to seem dire and at the very least upsettingly out of his way. Surely Chuck can get himself home on his own, right?
“No. Who knows if someone’s Aunt Rebecca or grandmother or son is out there on the road tonight” he thought.
As much as he had tried to screw up his life, Smallmouth usually knew what the right decision would be, even if he so often refused to listen. It was there ever so clearly on this New Year’s Eve, wailing in the back row of his mind like a misbehaved child during a church sermon. Smallmouth left the porch and went inside to grab his keys.
He walked out to his truck, got in, cranked it, let it sit down to one rpm, and started down the gravel driveway, which led to the gravel county road that Chuck and his few and far between neighbors lived on. He got to the mailbox and suddenly shot his attention up the road, where headlights revealed themselves out of the deep dark. It was rare to see any cars this far down Chuck’s road. In fact, there were no other houses to the right of Chuck’s cabin, spare for a couple of empty ones that were condemned but were attached to a lot of forest property.
Smallmouth squinted his eyes as a large black Dodge Ram 3500 came barreling by with a livestock trailer. Even inside his own truck he could hear a terrible noise coming from that trailer. He recognized it instantly as a pig squeal.
“The hell?” He whispered as the truck and trailer tore down the road, going around a nearby corner and out of sight. He couldn’t guess what on earth that could be about at this hour, and especially since nobody lived down there anyway. He shrugged it off though, and turned left out of the driveway, headed for drunk Uncle Chuck down at the ranch.
Ten minutes and a couple of snowy country miles later Smallmouth found himself through the metal gate of the ranch and up to the main barn, where a couple of smiling ranch hands had Chuck held up between them just outside one of two closed garage doors. A lamppost nearby cast a glow of debauchery on all of their faces, especially Chuck’s. Smallmouth got out and walked up to them smiling and shaking his head.
“Well well well…” he said with a slight laugh.
“Your Uncle put on one hell of a clinic tonight ‘Mouth” one of the hands said.
“I…..I….I don’t know what they’re tawlkin bout son” Chuck slang out before a high pitched giggle.
“I got another couple rounds in me I thinks!”
Smallmouth laughed.
“Yeah I ain’t so sure about that uncle! Let’s get on home now and let these fellas get on too.”
“Y’alright alright” Chuck said as Smallmouth took him from his buddies arms into one of his own and led him to the passenger seat of his truck.
“Happy New Years boys!!! Let’s do it all again okay?” He hollered to his waving buddies as they drove back away from the barn and through the metal gate toward home.
“You have a good time Uncle?”
“Oh…ohhh…I reckon I showed those boys how to do it” Another childish giggle.
A light snow shower seasoned the cold air as the truck rolled down the gravel country road. In the yellow headlights it made a pleasant white noise for the eyes. Chuck put his hands up staggered and vertically, fingers together and outstretched, pointing out in front of the truck down the road like he was aiming up for a rifle shot. He closed one eye.
“Straight as an arrow ole son. You’re good at this.”
“I ain’t drunk pops” Smallmouth chuckled.
“Sure ya are. Everybody’s drunk son. Even people that ain’t drink. Ticket is to get drunk on good stuff” Chuck’s face calmed from a goofy grin as he kept his eyes out front into the slow swirling tube of visible night.
“You sound like you’re drunk on some pretty damn good stuff” Smallmouth retorted as they shared a look and a good laugh.
“Suppose’n you ain’t wrong. Gotta work on that just like you are. Proud o’ you for a couple days clean man. We’ll get right. We’ll get right. All I meant was that man is born to get drunk on somethin’ or other. What I mean is God. Man is born to get drunk on his God.” Chuck said as Smallmouth shot him a raised eyebrow look of confusion.
“Once God gets ya drunk then you’re home free ol’ son. That distillery is never ending eternal forever. That land flows with whiskey and honey.” They both shared another laugh.
“Okay okay I think I somewhat understand now Uncle.”
They rode in a few seconds of comfortable silence before Chuck put his hands up in an aim position down the road again.
“You know…man….man….man has a GOVERNOR…..you know that right?”
“A what? A governor?”
“That’s right a GOVERNOR…that’s right…a little bitty device in his brain that keeps him on the road…keeps him from turning right off into the dark. You ever hear that little voice that tells you you can turn off into the ditch…into oncomin’ traffic? Tells you you can shoot your buddy instead of the deer? That you can jump off the top of the building and onto the pavement when you’re up there enjoying the view?”
“I…uh…I don’t know…I mean maybe? Pretty sure those are intrusive thoughts and they’re normal.”
“Well whatever they are that’s what the governor is for. Keeps ya straight. Keeps ya from harmin nothin.”
“Alright man, alright.”
They pulled back into Chuck’s driveway and parked. Smallmouth helped his uncle out of the truck and up into the cabin, snow starting to color the roof and pile against the side of the house near the door. Arms locked Smallmouth propped open the screen door, opened the inner door, and led Chuck through the kitchen and to his bedroom. Chuck layed down on his camo comforter with a deep, long exhale.
“Ahhhh yes……yes” he whispered with a smile.
“I love ya son…I’m glad you’re heeeeere. Let’s get better….your mom needs it…..stay in the Lord’s light son…don’t let them devils get ya….let’s get better….lets….” He was off into the distant deep ether almost immediately, and his mouth hung open.
“Goodnight uncle…love ya too.” Smallmouth patted the bed twice before walking over and closing the bedroom door behind him.
He went and sat at the kitchen table. He regretted his behavior earlier in the night. How it pained him to have to stay up a little later to go help out his uncle.
“Cmon…” he whispered.
He agreed with Chuck. He was here to get better. To do better. Maybe Chuck was right. If he couldn’t get drunk off booze, it was time to pick something else to drink. Better things. Maybe even God? Smallmouth hadn’t paid much mind to God since his church job fell through. God surely hadn’t been there for him these last few years when he was at his lowest. Or was He there the whole time? Had Smallmouth just ignored Him? These things floated heavily in his mind and soon he realized he had been staring at the front door for several minutes. Had he even blinked? Then something else came to mind.
“Wait hold up”
That truck and trailer from earlier. What WAS that? He meant to bring it up to the ranch hands. They would’ve seen it come barreling down the road right by their front gate. Oh he wished he had brought that up to them. Oh well. It’s probably nothing. Smallmouth looked at the clock. 12:12.
“Happy New Year old boy.” He said to himself.
He sat for a moment in the warm kitchen light, his eyes not leaving the front door. Well, he’s up this late already, why not go run down and check on the abandoned properties?
No…no…it can wait. It’s probably nothing. Right?
Wrong. There’s that wailing kid in the back pew of his mind again. Come on kid can’t you just be quiet and listen to the sermon? No, no it can’t. It must be heard. Always. He knew he had to go check it out.
“Ughhhh FINE!” Smallmouth got up and grabbed his truck keys, patted to make sure his cigarettes were still there, and was out the door again.
The snow shower had ended. As he pulled up to the edge of the drive, he stalled for a moment and peaked out as far to the right as he could down the dark road. Nothing. It wasn’t very far to the end of that road, where two out of service mailboxes should’ve stood in a small cul-de-sac if it weren’t for teenagers beating them to splinters. Can’t really blame them either. Smallmouth considered his plan. Whether or not that truck belonged to the landowner down there, he shouldn’t feel like he needs to sneak around. He is merely a concerned neighbor after all. He began down the road and around that same corner the stranger disappeared earlier.
After a couple of slow, curious minutes Smallmouth could see the evidence of a great big fire in the near distance, beyond where the road ended. Through the bare trees and against the snow it cast orange and red that could surely be seen a mile in every direction, that is, if there were anyone there to see it.
Slightly intimidated, Smallmouth decided to turn off his headlights and let the fire guide him as he slowed up to 5mph and gently crackled his last few yards of gravel up to the remnants of the nearest mailbox post. It seemed the fire was on the land of the farther property, whose mailbox posthole was about 30 feet from where he came to a stop and parked his truck. Smallmouth turned it off and quietly got out into the cold. He crouched down as he walked over to the farther driveway, getting down on one knee to give it a stealthy closer look.
The abandoned property boasted a busted up trailer that sat pitifully about 500 feet from the mailbox memorial. Beyond that was a good ten acres of field that ended at the forest edge, which marked the beginning of thousands of acres of wildlife refuge. As Smallmouth peered on, it was obvious that the fire was way out in that field, blocked by the old trailer, which wore the hot light and columns of smoke on it like a devilish crown. Given the cover, Smallmouth crept over to the trailer and started easing around the right side.
Rounding the corner he noticed a propane tank that would be perfect for hiding behind and getting the best look he could at the mysterious activity. He got down on his belly and crawled his way over to the tank, before sitting up and peeking slowly over the top and out into the field.
Way down there, a couple acres away from the tree line, was a huge fire, made up of about fifty wooden pallets. It raged and lit up the whole field like it was just the beginning of sunset. Somewhat near the fire was the black Dodge Ram 3500 and trailer. Smallmouth could see a group of people dressed in all red, as if covered in bloody bedsheets from head to toe, circled around a crude cage, seemingly fastened together by pieces of metal fencing. They stood still as the pines, and twice as silent. Smallmouth, in a rare moment of curious courage, decided he had to get closer. He got back on his stomach and began to crawl through the cold, knee high grass.
Using the fire light as his North Star he crawled and crawled, feeling his hands, clothes, and beard get wet with snow. He didn’t care. Something was up that wasn’t normal, wasn’t right. He could feel it in his cold gut. When he thought he was close enough without giving himself away he planted his palms and ever so slowly raised his torso up into a weak push up to try and see out. He was glad he didn’t go any further. He may have been too close already.
He was close enough to read the name of the truck and count the holes in the livestock trailer. There were seven strangers in red sheets all around the makeshift cage, all holding long spears. One of the figures had a crown of black thorns on his head. They all had two eyeholes and one hole for the mouth. They didn’t move a muscle for the longest time, before the Crowned One forcibly touched the end of his spear to the ground.
“Now is the time, Brother and Farmer Abraham…there is no more for us in waiting.”
Smallmouth had just noticed the passenger window to the black Dodge was down, and he could hear the driver door open and soon saw a normal looking older man in a ball cap at the back of the trailer. He was holding a leash of some sort. He opened up the trailer and whistled into the dark of it. After a couple of loud, heavy thuds a gigantic, and I mean GIGANTIC Yorkshire pig came slowly shrugging out of the trailer. It was light pink in color but filthy, and gave wet sounding oinks as it came to the man’s hands expecting food. The thing must’ve weighed 1500 pounds, and at least ten feet long. It actually had to lower its head to reach the man’s hands, its ears coming up to the man’s chest. Smallmouth couldn’t believe his eyes. The man reached in his pocket and revealed a handful of some type of feed, which he tossed on the ground at the pig. It started right in as the man fixed a collar on the pigs girthy neck, then attaching a leash. The pig gave a slight squeal.
“Good girl, good girl…cmon now” the man called Farmer Abraham sweetly coaxed the animal. He gave his end of the leash a tug and the monstrous swine reluctantly left its food and followed the man over close to the Crowned One. The fire raged and raged nearby, throwing crazy shadows all over the place.
“What have you brought us, Brother and Farmer Abraham?”
“Yeah, uh, this is Old Azazel, she’s been in my family for years, man.”
The Crowned One dropped his spear and knelt down to the jowls of the hog, the dark holes of his eyes meeting those of the animal. The other red cloaked figures remained statuesque around the cage.
“Ah, yes, Old Azazel, hello. You are to be of great importance in the history of the Earth tonight, old friend.”
The Crowned One got back up to address Brother and Father Abraham, who seemed obviously put off, yet submissive.
“And is this Old Azazel a natural specimen? Is it fed only of the earth and the filths therein?”
“Yessir, I’d reckon so.”
“This is necessary for a proper sacrifice, Brother and Farmer Abraham. You may only bring your best, your cleanest, your most dear to the alter of the Almighty.”
“I understand.”
“May I take her now?”
The farmer gave his end of the leash to the black gloved left hand of the Crowned One. The Crowned one stood with it for almost a full minute in total stillness and silence. The only noise Smallmouth could hear was the sloppy smacks and oinks from Old Azazel. The farmer anxiously waited, wringing his hands expecting the next move from the Crowned One.
“Turn away, Brother and Farmer Abraham. Turn away from us and toward the fire now.” The Crowned One finally spoke.
“Phew, alright. We’re still good on our deal? Do you still promise to make my little girl better? Like you said?” The farmer asked, with some hopeful desperation.
“Turn now.”
“Well okay” the farmer turned his back to the Crowned One and toward the fire.
“I can assure you with all of the knowledge in my mind and in my heart, you will never see your daughter sick again in this lifetime, Brother and Father Abraham. You may find peace and solace in this truth.”
The farmer nodded in relief as he looked upon the fire. Smallmouth, taking it all in with great confusion, could see a smile on the farmers fire lit face, and turned back to the Crowned One just in time to see him reach under his red garment and pull out a pistol and shoot a round into the back of the farmers head, blowing his cap off, which frisbeed down near his shaking, crumpled body. Old Azazel threw a fit immediately, screaming and trying her best to flee. The Crowned One held the immense beast with one hand, and with seemingly little effort. The other red clothed figures finally made noise, laughing deep and heartily around the cage. The Crowned One, keeping Old Azazel close, walked over to the doubled over farmer, putting two more bullets into his head, essentially hollowing it out into a carnal mess. The farmers shaking mercifully stopped.
Smallmouth had to slam his forearm up to his mouth to muffle the scream that would’ve come out and blown his cover. His eyes were flown wide open and his arms were shivering.
The Crowned One put the pistol back under his red cloak and led the great pig, still squealing as high pitched and piercing as the human ear can withstand, over to the mouth of the cage, which was opened by the nearest red clothed stranger. Old Azazel flew in to the cage, having been unleashed by The Crowned One. It struggled around the cage, which was no bigger than 15x15 feet, giving it no room to get comfortable. It circled the inner perimeter, showing impressive speed for such a large animal. It squealed and squealed. The sound stung Smallmouths ears, and he covered them with his hands. He was still out of sight in the tall grass. The Red People around the cage laughed at the hogs entrapment. The Crowned One raised a hand to signal silence. The Red People were still and quiet again.
“Now, my brothers, the sacrificial gift is in our possession. Tonight…is a HOLY NIGHT.” The Crowned One raised his voice as if getting to the climax of a fire and brimstone sermon.
“TONIGHT…WE WILL DESTROY WHAT WAS ONCE CAST OUT BUT NEVER VANQUISHED!! WE WILL RID THE EARTH OF A GREAT ARMY!! AN ARMY OF HELL THAT HAS FAR TOO LONG ROAMED AND SICKENED OUR LANDS AND KILLED OUR LOVES!! TONIGHT…WE WILL DESTROY THE DESTROYERS…THE LEGION OF SATANS SOLDIERS BORN JUST AFTER THE GARDEN OF EDEN FELL…”
The Crowned One fell to his knees, his arms up and stretched toward the frozen sky. A mighty wind began blowing at Smallmouths back. He had to lower his head as it roared over him. After a moment it calmed and he was able to lift up again to see. Winds from all corners of the field met at the cage, swirling over it in a great snowy funnel that led up to the clouds. Old Azazel screamed and screamed from the cage.
“I SEE YOU VILLIANS!! I HEAR YOU HOSTS OF HELL!! I KNOW YOU LIVE IN THESE TREES!! I KNOW YOU COWER WITHIN THE SOUND OF MY VOICE!! SHOW YOURSELF!! TAKE THE BODY OF THIS ANIMAL THAT I HAVE SET BEFORE YOU!! TAKE IT NOW!! TAKE IT NOW AND FACE ME!! TAKE IT NOW!! TAKE IT NOW!! TAKE I-“
The Crowned One’s vocal cord shredding performance was cut short by a single burst of black lightning that shot down from the middle of the snowy funnel cloud that surrounded the cage. The Crowned One and all the Red People were thrown several feet back from the blast. Thunder immediately exploded across the field. Smallmouth buried his face as the force and sound raced over him. Ears ringing, he kept his face down for a few seconds. He squinted back up to the strike zone.
The strange black lightning had blown the cage completely apart. Two of The Red People had been hit with the metal fencing. One laid motionless. The other gargled in pain as he put a hand to the pole that was sticking out of his sternum, having penetrated all the way through. His legs buckled and he fell forward, the end of the pole hitting the ground first and propping him up for a moment, before his body slowly slid down to the ground around the metal. He went silent. The other four Red People, yelling in surprise, gathered themselves, looking to the charred hole in the ground where Old Azazel should be, right in the center where the cage used to stand. The Crowned One got to his feet and picked up his spear.
“My brothers, gather your arms…” the Crowned One whispered, breathing heavily under his red cloak.
“The work is not over…”
The four remaining Red People grabbed their spears and slowly walked over to the burnt, smoking hole, holding an attack pose over it until further instructions were given.
“Are you with us, you age old tormentors?” This was the first time Smallmouth could hear fear in the tired voice of the Crowned One.
“Are you with us now? Are you ready to die, you infernal bastards? Are you ready to-“
The Crowned One was interrupted by a booming noise from the hole that tore Smallmouths wits to shreds. It was similar to the cry of Old Azazel, but much deeper and ten times louder and angrier. It was as if a freight train was blaring its horn and slamming its brakes at the same time.
“NOW MY BROTHERS!! STRIKE THE BEAST OF HELL WITH YOUR SPEARS! NOW!!!”
The Red People all threw their weapons down into the smoking hole. The hellish noise from within stopped in an instant. The Red People crowded closer to the edge of the hole, waiting for the smoke to clear. The Crowned One walked over to them, putting his black gloved hand on the shoulder of the nearest man.
“Oh, Brothers. Oh my dear, dear Brothers. Your acts tonight have rid the earth of a Great and Powerful Evil…”
Before he could continue, a fully enraged and re-inspired bellow thrust itself up and out of the hole like a serrated blade. Much, much louder and angrier than before. The Red People were taken aback in terror. Suddenly, from within the hole, a large head emerged and gaped a huge, disgusting maw up at the crowd. The head was burned black and its eyes were half boiled white and without pupils. It shrieked out that most terrible noise as if it didn’t need oxygen.
“There’s no way” Smallmouth heard himself say under his breath.
All in one motion, the beast leaped out of the hole, and turned to face its attackers. It was Old Azazel, except swollen with burnt mass. It appeared to have grown a half a size at least. Three spears stuck out of its sizzling, charcoal colored back. It snapped its gigantic jaws at the Red People, who shuddered in horror. The Crowned One spoke:
“DO NOT RELENT BROTHERS!! ATTACK!! ATTACK THE BRUTE!!”
He pulled his pistol back out of his cloak and fired the remaining three rounds on the new and horrible black burnt Old Azazel. The beast’s cloudy boiled egg eyes shot open along with its unnaturally stretched jaws. It took the three bullets as if they were tennis balls. At the speed of a charging grizzly and with multiple times the power Old Azazel raged over to The Crowned One and dove onto him mouth first, putting both front hooves on his chest as he was knocked down. The Crowned One cried out in a shockingly high pitched wail, like a man being electrocuted. The Beast bit right into the soft of his belly, and began to shake him around like an Orca trying to separate a seal from its pelt.
“OH GOD!!!! AHHHHHH GOD OHHHHH!!! HELP ME!!!! NOOOO!!!! OH GOD HELP ME!!!! MAMA!!!! OHHHH!!! MAMA!!!!!”
The beast ate and ate and shook and shook and tore and broke and destroyed while the Crowned One lost more and more of his body, all while crying out to the sky at the top of his punctured lungs. The other Red People sprinted to the black Dodge Ram, opened its doors and piled inside. Smallmouth heard it crank up and it began to speedily turn around and race away from the fire and back toward the road. The beast unhooked from the Crowned One and let out another ghastly roar of victory before biting into his neck, ending his screaming forever. The beast then left his half devoured body and began a tremendous and terrible charge after the truck, which was greatly slowed down by the trailer. Smallmouth put his face down as the beast passed him by only about 10 feet on its way to the truck, which had just made it back to the road and was using every RPM possible to get away from the demon charged killing machine on its heels. Smallmouth turned around to watch both parties disappear down the road, the echoes of that great and evil blasting noise stabbing his ears again. He remained on his stomach in the tall, snowy grass for another two minutes as he normalized his breath and tried to make any sense of what he just witnessed.
Eventually he slowly rose up and looked to make sure that terrible thing was indeed out of the area. No signs of life or death from up at the road. The danger was at least a couple miles away by now. Smallmouth then turned back toward the fire and to the dominated body of the Crowned One. He carefully walked up closer and closer. To his amazement he heard wheezy noises coming from the emptied out torso of the man, a scattering of insides and flesh and blood strewn all around him. Troubled, rattling breaths escaped from under the red clothed head, whose crown of thorns had flown off in the attack. Most of the red cloak had been ripped to shreds, and all that remained covered were his shoulders and above. The cloth slowly ebbed and flowed with breath. Smallmouth could not believe this man was still alive. His entire digestive system was eviscerated and his ribs were exposed. Smallmouth knelt down beside him and lifted his cloak over his head to let him at least breathe his last in the open air.
Smallmouth let out a gasp. This man had a face that Smallmouth knew very well. He recognized him immediately from the old church he worked at. The clean shaven face. The short, silver hair. The sharp nose. This was a man that had joined his church two weeks before the schism. He never spoke in church but it was rumored he would meet at the homes of different members and try to sway them to his strange ideas. He was the one rumored to have led the radical faction somewhere in the middle of the woods. To Smallmouth, it was all starting to make more sense.
“I know you,” Smallmouth said softly, “I know who you are. You tore a church in half didn’t you? You’re the crazy guy that split up my ole church! What the hell have you done?”
The man struggled to breathe and tried his best to spit up a couple of words. His neck had deep lacerations that flowed with escaping life.
“I…I…I…uhh…I only…I only…I only did what I believed…” he whispered before a wet, stifled breath.
“What did you do?!!!” Smallmouth grew angry, and his voice followed suit. This man had ruined his job and now he had unleashed something horrifying on his neighborhood. He had tampered with things that man has no business tampering with.
“I…I…I have…have…I have failed, Smallmouth Bassett” the man croaked. Smallmouth couldn’t believe he had bothered to remember his name.
“I have failed. I have failed. God help you all…” with that the man’s face fell and he let out one last slow exhale before all was still.
Smallmouth got back on his feet and looked away from the dead man and toward the fire, which towered and raged in the reflection of his eyes.
“Oh no…oh no…oh no” he said in between terrified breaths.
Then another though hit him like a wrecking ball.
“Uncle Chuck…”

For context I currently weigh 220, I’m 5’4 and 22F. I had a baby almost 6 months ago. But about 3 years ago from now, for birth control I had the IUD and 6 months after having it in, I gained 40 lbs in a year (Went from 140 to 180). And since getting it removed I’ve gained another 40 (20 in the first year having it removed, then 20 after having my baby). That year I gained 40 pounds I told my doctor that nothing in my diet changed drastically enough for me to gain THAT much, I was gaining a pound a week even though I had a highly physical job and was eating relatively healthy. Granted, at 18 I just moved in with my boyfriend and we would go out about 2-3 weekends per month in the beginning of our relationship and socially drink but I occasionally drank more than 2 drinks. I don’t think that could’ve caused me to gain that much weight.
So I had a dr appt and explained to her that since February I’ve really been focusing on getting healthy again because I want to be able to keep up with my kid and be involved with her when she’s a toddler wanting to go run around, go on bike rides and walks etc. I’ve been working out 4-6 times a week and I’ve been on a calorie deficit of 1500, absolute most id eat was 1800 but that wasn’t very often. And since February, I’ve only lost 4 pounds.
She gave me a BUNCH of good advice and made a check up appointment 2 months from now to see how it’s going. She also put in for me to get blood work done to test my CBC since last test was after I gave birth and it was a little low (which is normal). Im also getting blood work done for my thyroid but that’s not until a week before my 2 month check up appt.
There was one thing she told me though that Im not completely against, but I’m also surprised I guess at what she said.
When I told her I was eating around 1500-1800 calories a day her eyes got big and she said that’s why I’m not losing weight and she’s in fact surprised I didn’t gain any weight and the exercising must be helping. For the next two months she wants me to only eat 1300-1400 calories a day. And like I said I’m okay with this, but I remember seeing several times that 1200 calories isn’t enough for adults to function off of and that’s how much toddlers should eat. Another thing is my BMR is 1700 calories a day, plus I burn an additional 490 up to sometimes 800 active calories a day. So total is 2190-2500 calories burned/day. She even told me when I’m logging my food in these apps to not include the exercise calories I’m burning because that’ll add more calories that I can eat and I need to strictly only eat 1300-1400.
After doing the math, that could have me losing up to 2.5 lbs per week. Which like I’ve mentioned twice now, I AM OKAY with this. I was just surprised at how low of calories I should be eating a day.
What are your thoughts on this?

So, recently, i've been going through too much in life, in every aspect of my life, to the point that even the things that would bring me joy were left out of my day by day.
The things that bring me joy includes TWICE. I had no idea that there's a new TTT out, found out now when logged in on twitter. However, do you wanna know the reason why i decided to login? Well, let's just say that Miss Minatozaki Sana appeared in my dreams, not once, but TWICE!
The thing is, when i was in my obsession phase, i had never dream with them before and now when i've been away, she suddenly appears in my dreams. Also, Mina is my ult bias, my Pookie, my sugar pie, my babu, and then from the 9 members that my brain would choose to make me dream about, it was Sana?! I know that she has a history of bias wrecking Mina stans, but still!
Also, the dreams were "weird", like, it was like we were on a date, but at the same time not? She didn't speak at all, and still, it felt like she was trying to make me leave something behind, something that i know i should do, but at the same time, i can't, we were in situations that made me see she was right, but i decided to ignore, in the first one, i woke up, because i was cold, but then i fell asleep again and it was like the dream was still going on, she tried once more until she got tired and gave me a sad smile, then i woke up.
Anyways, have you ever have this kind of experience? Like, having a dream with the members or something that made you feel your subconcious wants to tell you something and used TWICE to get the message to you, because knows that they are the only ones tou really listen to?

Hi!
I really don’t know where to start with this one. It’s definitely going to be a long post as I don’t want to miss on any potentially crucial detail, hence apologies for posting something this long.
Here’s my best attempt at summarizing what happened without losing on any detail (feel free to ask for clarification if anything isn’t clear):

I bought a proxmark3 rdv4 as part of a kit which also comes with several of its accessories from an online website selling these kinds of things.
When I received it, I noticed several smudges on the device itself and the cards that came with it where scratched up to severely, which immediately alarmed me but I really tried to brush it off to just being caused by the manufacturing process.
Three days after first receiving it, it completely died on me during usage. And showed no signs of life whatsoever.
Naturally contacted the online website’s support and explained the situation, and they responded asking me to try some troubleshooting steps to try to isolate the issue and potentially fix it remotely, all of which didn’t work.
Hence they offered to look into it themselves by having me send it back to them.
However, I insisted on returning the full kit back for a full refund as it is no longer fit for purpose due to both being defective and the fact that I wouldn’t trust a replacement either to not fail the same way now that I experienced this. And since this was 3 days since receiving it, and even 4 days since placing the purchase, it was well within the 14 days period the Consumer Rights Act 2015 allows for. Hence I asked them to just return the full kit for a full refund instead.
Yet they (or shoud I say he as it turns out this “company” is actually just one person) refused and said since I now opened it I am no longer eligible for a refund and kept insisting that sending it back for repaireplacement was my only option. (Which is nonsense as how was I supposed to even know it was defective if I didn’t open it!!!). They even went as far as stating their ToS also states that defective items aren’t eligible for a refund even if they are within the 14 day period (which is also nonsense as even their own ToS states that you can return faulty items for a full refund within 14 days. And either way the Consumer Rights Act 2015 gives me this right regardless of what their ToS say).
Then things started getting even more suspicious with this sellecompany. They started ignoring my emails stating my rights under the Consumer Rights Act 2015, and just resending the same email asking me if I accept to return it for a repair or replacement. Obviously I was not going to say yes as then they will use that against me and say I accepted to not get a refund but have it replaced instead.
So having paid by PayPal, it seemed straightforward. Just open up a dispute, explain the situation clearly and upload evidence. Which is exactly what I did.
Then through the PayPal disputes seller-buyer chat you get when first opening a dispute to try to sort things out together first, the seller again insisted on this whole ToS nonsense and then asked for the item back and provided a returns address but wouldn’t provide a returns label unless I accepted not to get a refund (again, not going to say yes to that). So what I did was instead return it under my own dime through Royal Mail Special Guarantee so there’s clear evidence. And uploaded the tracking details to the dispute.
Item gets delivered with proof of delivery and a signature and everything (because I thankfully decided to send it special guarantee), yet the seller kept asking for it back and not acknowledging that it’s already been delivered. (Even more suspicious!).
And when I clearly stated even the tracking showing proof of delivery and everything, suddenly the story changed and the seller now has it back… and then things got even more interesting.
The seller went above and beyond straight up making false statements claiming I damaged and modified the item (which I didn’t do). And the funny thing is, not only is what he was saying contradicting with the manufacturer’s own instructions, but his false allegations even contradict themselves! For example, he said the device outer cover is sealed and that I broke the seal and forced the cover open against the manufacturer’s usage instructions. Yet then claimed the tool which is INCLUDED in the box by the manufacturer specifically to open the casing showed signs of usage. Anyone with a brain without even knowing a thing about the device would instantly realize: Why would the manufacturer seal a device and not condone opening it yet include a tool specifically to do exactly that? And to add to that, the reason why you would open the outer casing is to access a SIM slot under there, which you then plug an also INCLUDED SIM-SAM adapter to that slot to use it… hence again, why would the manufacturer include an adapter in the box which can’t even be used without opening the plastic cover. And mind you all of these are part of the main device box, these aren’t the additional accessories that also came with the kit. Hence none of these could have possibly been aftermarket things not recommended by the manufacturer. See how even someone who doesn’t know anything about the device can instantly tell how these allegations conflict with each other? And to add to that, the seller also claimed that I admitted that I flashed aftermarket software to the device and that the device failed immediately after, and pointed towards one of my emails who he previously claimed he never received (again! Super obvious lie!). Yet that wasn’t what I even said, I said that I updated it to the latest version exactly as the manufacturer getting started docs instruct you to, and it was working fine (hence the failure did not occur after the update!) and the failure only happened 3 days later while I was just reading one of the included NFC cards (yes, one of the ones scratched). Hence again, more clear lies.
So at that point I clearly explained exactly how his lies conflict each other and conflict with the manufacturer instructions and supplied proof as well with manufacturer documentation and the full terminal log showing all of the things I did and commands I ran with the device, and escalated the claim for PayPal to review.
PayPal despite saying they will provide a verdict in 5 days, took weeks and them suddenly asked me to provide a police report. Yet when contacting the local police they said they don’t deal with these kind of things (which I expected), so now I am being asked for something that the police don’t even provide. Gave the PayPal customer service a call and explained that… and they rudely just kept repeating that I have to provide that or else my case will be closed in the seller’s favor.
After looking around I found the action fraud website so reported the incident there and thankfully the report letter you get after submitting mentions it being a police service, hence that would definitely work. So I went ahead and supplied that to the dispute and again it said they will provide a verdict within 5 days. This time they took even longer than last time and after keeping me on my toes for possibly a month+ they just simply rejected the claim saying I modified/damaged the item effectively blindly siding with the seller despite the clear lies and despite the clear explanation and evidence I supplied showing that.
So I appealed the decision and this time re-wrote the full explanation and evidence in case it wasn’t clear the first time and emphasized everything and made sure it was super clear with numbered bullet points and everything. Yet again they took their time and kept me waiting for weeks, eventually rejecting the appeal too for the same reason. (Clearly they couldn’t be bothered to even read a work I said nor even use any brain cells to see how obvious the lies are from the seller).
Once your appeal gets rejected then there’s no way to re-open the dispute anymore nor create a new one. So rang the PayPal support again and explained the situation and after the agent looked at the dispute even he agreed that the sellers lies were as clear as day and that my explanation and evidence further proves that, and was confused as to why it got rejected. So he said he will escalate to their head office and I should receive a response in 3 working days. And I immediately asked him: They rejected it twice already and blindly sided with the seller, wouldn’t they just do the same? And he assured me that the head office is a different team from the team that handled the dispute.
Over 2 weeks later… and I still haven’t heard back from anyone. So I gave them another ring. This time the agent that I got straight up started blaming me for “modifying” the item and saying the same nonsense and after straight up going over how all of them are lies (the same way I went over that twice already in my dispute and appeal, but this time I could actually say it verbally in real time to him as it was a phone call), he kept coming up with random nonsense excuses like saying PayPal disputes don’t handle defective items (which is nonsense) and then also went on saying that since the failure occurred 3 days after and not immediately it’s also not covered (again, nonsense), so I reminded him of my rights under the Consumer Rights Act 2015 and he went on saying but that’s not what they PayPal ToS says, and I also reminded him of the signs of usage I also clearly mentioned in the dispute and appeal hence even the item wasn’t as described as it was advertised as new (which in itself entitles me to a full refund even if the device hadn’t failed) and I straight up told him PayPal operates in the UK and all UK laws apply to them and they can’t legally deny my rights regardless of what their ToS says (and by the way, nowhere in the ToS either was it saying anything this guy was claiming). So regardless of what I kept saying he just kept coming up with excuses and nonsense so I knew that phone call was going nowhere. He even went as far as saying that I should resolve this with the seller directly (AS IF I HAVENT BEEN TRYING TO DO THAT FROM THE BEGINNING TO NO AVAIL WHICH IS WHY I HAD TO FILE A DISPUTE IN THE FIRST PLACE!!!).
At that point I had reached a dead end as the seller wasn’t cooperating, PayPal was blindly siding with him regardless of what I did, and to top this off and I couldn’t even file a dispute with my bank as I had used my card from my home country, and apparently when I spoke to them they said they don’t even file disputes unless the item simply hasn’t arrived (which in itself is just stupid on top of all of the stupidity I have faced so far).
So now I was out £509.99 for the kit, plus the £7.65 I paid out of pocket for postage to return it (which honestly I could have written off if I would have at least gotten the money for the kit refunded), and now I don’t even have the device nor the whole kit as that’s been returned to the seller. So I am out both the money and the kit. And the seller gets to keep the whole kit and probably scam someone else with it as well, plus gets to keep the money.
So I now filed a case with the financial ombudsman as it been wayyyyyyyyyyyy over 8 weeks and PayPal still hasn’t resolved this nor even wants to (thankfully didn’t need a final response letter due to how long it’s taken otherwise that in itself would have been a nightmare to try to get from PayPal judging by my experience with them so far). But I am honestly not hopeful at all as I have never my life ever won an ombudsman case, as they always blindly side with the company (yes, the same way PayPal blindly sided with the seller), hence no wonder companies confidently refer you to them because they know you probably won’t win.

Hence all of that being said, what are my options now? I am guessing probably small claims court, but if I lose that too then I will also be out the fees for that on top of the already massive losses. Plus I am an international student hence won’t be in the UK over the summer and my schedule during the academic year might not give me time to attend the hearing. Plus I can’t speak legalese and I am generally terrible at communicating on the spot due to my ADHD, hence that also won’t be in my favor. And I can’t afford to have someone represent me either.
I am really sorry if I am sounding super negative, I just really don’t know how to handle this, especially considering how much money I lost now which in itself has been a nightmare.
Any advice would greatly be appreciated whether here or through DMs (my DMs are open if you don’t feel comfortable sharing advice here).
Thanks!

**I am not The OOP, OOP is u/throwaway151702
Slight chance my (39M) pregnant wife (38F) had an affair, should I ask for a paternity test or wait?
Originally posted to relationship_advice
TRIGGER WARNING: possible infidelity, fertility issues
Original Post May 9, 2024
My wife (38F) and I (39M) have been together for 12 years. I don't know how to describe it other than calling it the perfect relationship. I think in 12 years we've only ever gotten to the point of really raising our voices at one another maybe 2 or 3 times? We do everything together but always have never had issues allowing each other to lead our own lives and follow our own interests. We bought a house where we wanted.... we both have good high paying jobs that have great work life balance. Basically it's been everything short of perfect.
We've been trying for 2 years to get pregnant and it hadn't been happening. We were just about to start the fertility stuff when I came home from a work trip, and guess what she's pregnant. I had this weird instant thought of.... Wait I thought we didn't try during the week last month because of the fertility testing... But I couldn't remember exactly because to be honest... We were busy at it. So I just assumed I miss remembered.
Now, I travel around the country pretty regularly for work. Other than COVID, I've been on the road as much as 40 weeks a year sometimes. Since COVID its been less but still more than a week a month.
Over the last 4-5 years my wife has gotten very friendly with a guy she works with, let's call him Matt. Matt is slightly younger, I think 34M or so. I know him, he's married, I know his wife. They've worked together for I think 7 years or so. He's always been around, him and I have been friendly. Have I ever thought something was happening? No, but I've always thought.... You'd be a fool to not think there's even a 1% chance your spouse would go outside the relationship. Maybe I'm naive, but I've always seen it as a safeguard to not take my wife or any other partner in the past for granted. She's never given me a reason to think she'd do that. But anything is possible.
So about a month ago I'm out of state for work and she's at home. I ask her what she's doing earlier in the day and she says Matt is coming by for dinner. Not out of the ordinary, Matt comes by from time to time. Sometimes with his wife, sometimes without, sometimes when I'm not there. I don't think much of it.
We have a security system which includes cameras both inside and outside of the house which we installed after an unrelated incident a few years ago. They record and are live accessable by both her and I. I often use those cameras to check on the dog when I or both of us are away, as the rest of the system is monitored by a company Incase of an alarm going off.
She knows I check those cameras, there's a system installed where I can talk through them. I'll mess with my wife and she will with me on them if either of us are out of town (she travels for work as well, but far less than I do). Point is, it's known that I check them often when I'm not at home.
So I turn on the camera and I see my 4 months pregnant wife, lying on the floor, on her side with Matt sitting, straddling her legs and using a foam roller to message her hips. So I'm like.... Ok... What the fuck is this. I start rewinding through the footage and they are eating and talking normally, but then they get on the couch and get under the same blanket. Now...... They are feet to feet, but that couch isn't that big. Then they move to the floor and that's when I logged in.
Anyway I text her, I'm still watching the cameras they both look like deer in headlights and he very quickly leaves. We get into an argument she isn't mad at me accusing her but she's adamant that nothing has or ever would happen, and that what I saw was innocent and she was complaining about being in pain from the pregnancy.... Which I know is true shes already having some issues with back pain etc.. The biggest point of that discussion was I asked "If I were there would you two have been comfortable doing any of that Infront of me" and she reluctantly admitted... No probably not. I told her I didn't want to talk after that and we'd talk when I got home 3 days later.
That's when It hit me..... What if my weird gut moment feeling about her telling me she was finally pregnant, was... This. What if my 1% happened and this is not my child we are having?
Now, it eats away at my while I'm at a hotel alone a thousand miles away for 3 days. I reconcile with myself that... I think it's less likely than more likely that something between them has happened. But Basically my 1% just jumped to.... 10% 20% maybe?
I get home and she's on eggshells and doesn't mention it. I kinda wait to see what she's going to do. 2 days later she finally brings it up and breaks down. Swears nothing has happened she would never. Doesn't do anything over the top to try and prove anything... Which I took as a good sign. But anyway we talk out the issue and everything to a point of at least moving forward for now. I'm still coping and dealing with it figuring out how to re trust after all this time.
I'm getting more and more understanding of the fact that they are friends they've been friends for so long, maybe he has intentions.... But I don't see her having any and I've never really picked up on it and I've spent time around both of them together many many times, and never caught anything.
So the thing that is destroying me right now is.... If I'm wrong and something did happen... While I can figure out how to deal with that... What if that child isn't mine. In the argument and few long conversations we've had about the situation since I've never brought that up, and she's not mentioned it. Mostly because I don't want to make the situation worse and crush her if infact she's telling the truth, which I mostly Believe.
The only thing I can think to do at this point is to wait until the baby is born and immediately order a paternity test in secret. Should I do that? Should I tell her and have it dealt with now? If you're a woman in her shoes and you're telling the truth, would that destroy you, or your view of me? If you're lying what would you do if I asked? I don't want to ask a super vague question but..... What do I do?!
TLDR: very small chance my wife of 12yrs had an affair and she's 4 months pregnant and I can't bring myself to ask for a paternity test for fear of crushing her if nothing actually happened. But I am planning on doing it in secret when the baby comes. What do I do?
Update: Soo many comments. Thank you everyone more than I can address directly but I'm going to keep reading a few things.
1 stop DMing me about this, thanks.
2 some have made some good points about addressing it now rather than later and that's something that I'm considering more than I was before, thank you.
3 to those focused only on my relationship. I get it but that's not what I'm focused on. We've been talking about it a lot. My wife and I are pretty open people with each other. I'm not saying I'm convinced nothing happened but I'm more focused on paternity right now.
4 if I need to track, spy on, life360, my wife. Then this relationship is over already. That's not the relationship we have and not one that I ever want, and in my opinion not one anyone should ever have. We are working on rebuilding trust. As I said in this long winded post my default of 1% possibility went up to 10% or so. Trust me I'm taking my relationship seriously but to those I've said this to already. If the kid isn't mine, then there's no longer any conversation to have.
5 I've already had this discussion with my lawyer, I don't live in a state where the birth certificate stuff will be an issue. If I have paperwork that this child isn't mine than divorce isn't going to be much of an issue. Both of us are in an independent financial situation where it won't matter much regardless.
I'll keep up with this post as long as I can and post an update when and if anything gets resolved.
Update May 10, 2024
Update: Slight chance my (39M) pregnant wife (38F) had an affair, should I ask for a paternity test or wait?
Here's the original post from yesterday.
https://www.reddit.com/relationship_advice/s/CphGAU9Tsm
So she was out of state on a business trip until late last night. It's Friday so she worked from home in our kitchen. So I asked to talk and brought it up and asked for a test.
She immediately said yes and said there's zero doubt and nothing that she'd even have a second to worry about. But she has no problem doing it now. The only caveat I left it with is. If it's invasive at all per our doctors then I'm ok waiting until it's low risk. (I'm not a doctor, no clue what they'd have to do to do it now)
So not sure when we are. But she's aware and we are getting one. It was a decent and longer conversation. We are currently sitting together getting lunch. She's got no clue I did this on Reddit. Hence the new account because she is on here somewhere.
Thank you everyone for your help and opinions, a bunch of you made me realize that we are already really open about everything and if nothing happened then she wouldn't worry about getting one.
I was more worried about her health and adding some insane level of stress if it was an issue as she's an at risk pregnancy and it took soooooo long for us to get pregnant.
So again thank you all for the help. I suppose I can update if it's mine or not but I'm not sure how long that will be. I'm... 90-95% sure it is mine. But this will help us continue this conversation.
Thank you.
Update: just because it seems to be more of a topic on this post vs the other one for some reason.... Yes I have the footage. No I haven't talked to Matt yet. He's told her he wants to talk about it but I've told them to wait on that. My relationship with my wife and the paternity is what's important right now. I will eventually talk with Matt.
No I'm not going to get Matt's wife involved intentionally. I don't know why I would other to just be vindictive. I'm not going to cover for him obviously but his relationship is his. And mine is mine. I'm not interested in making this worse. Whatever is going on between him and his wife isn't any of my business.
RELEVANT COMMENTS
OOP when asked why his wife thought she could be intimate with someone else

We've talked about it at length nothing is being ignored. I could write you an essay about our past, her reasons and my feelings on it. But instead I'll just say. I'm aware of it. She's claiming innocence of anything further but at the same time admitting that it wasn't a good look but she wasn't thinking about it at the time. And that's what we are currently working through.

When told it doesnt look innocent and asked if his wife goes to Matt's house when his wife isn't home

She's 4 months. I was home. And we had been on the clock..... To the point of the days blending together, trust me.
We are pretty open people and pretty comfortable with ourselves and each other. I don't know if she's been to his house without his wife. I mean the 3 and 4 of us all hang out probably once or twice a month but they work directly together everyday and have for years. So obviously there's a closeness there. They are both upper management in their company. And at my company I have long term friends that are women. I've traveled with them we've done dinner and hung out in hotel rooms together. But I've never done anything because, that's not me. I'm married and love my wife and my life. I have no reason to.
So I mean the optics are bad. I just have to decide if it's only the optics. Or if she has a reason too. Maybe he has a reason too and that's what I saw? That I'm not sure about. But that comes down to, do I trust her to handle that. She says if that's the case she's never noticed it. And she hangs out with him and his wife just about as much as he hangs out with us. She works in a building right near them. My company is based out of Chicago and I live on one of the coasts. So my coworker friends are much more spread out. We can't go to the bar to grab afterwork drinks any day like they can. Honestly I usually go to their work hangouts more than mine because of that. I'm friendly with her CEO because of it.
So is it perfect? No. But I've always trusted her, I've never had a reason not to. In 15 years, this is the first, crack or dent in it.

OOP gives a clearer description of what happened that day

That's not what I saw. She said something, he froze. Said something I couldn't hear she said no no don't worry about it. He put something in the dishwasher and she walked him out to the front door. He didn't dive out the window.
You have to remember this is Reddit. I'm not putting every single nuanced detail in this because that would take me hours to write and I'm not putting my security footage on the Internet for strangers to see. The reason I have the security system in the first place is because of a stranger on the internet.
I'm not saying anything beyond that didn't happen for sure between them. I'm saying I don't know now and I don't have any proof. That's what my wife and I are discussing just about every day and what we are working through.
The original point of the post was..... The only thing we hadn't talked about was paternity because I don't want to put her in a situation where she medically loses the child. Mine or not.
Not only have I not been able to put every single nuanced thing in this I've also sprinkled in false details about our lives, nothing pertinent to what happened but other mundane details. I was a very small public figure at one point. And some low life from the Internet traveled across the country to make death threats against us because of something warped in his head. To the point where the federal government had to get involved.
People in here are wildly jumping at conclusions with much less information than I have and ignoring the original point of the post and the original questions asked.

Has he told Matt's wife

She is my wife's friend's wife. We don't meet up and knit together. I know her through my wife. I see her maybe once every few months at a bar after work, or if they come by for dinner or to hang out. We aren't besties.
Again what should I go tell her. Hey your husband was at my house. I knew he was there and I saw him run a foam roller over the outside of my wife's hip while he was sitting on her feet..... It's super obvious they are fucking and Even though I'm not sure. It's possible she's carrying his baby.
This isn't a soap opera. There's nothing I KNOW that I can tell her so why would she take my word on what tiny evidence there is. And why or how in the world would that help my situation? If all of this is false now I've destroyed my relationship for acting like a child trying to drum up drama for what obviously looks like being vindictive, and I put them in the same situation we are in now.... For something THAT I DON'T KNOW IS TRUE YET.
I believe you have entirely lost the plot here.

THIS IS A REPOST SUB - I AM NOT THE OOP
DO NOT CONTACT THE OOP's OR COMMENT ON LINKED POSTS, REMEMBER - RULE 7

Chapter One
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-Rooftop of the White Flame Factory-
Grigory smiled nervously at his men as they lounged on the rooftop patio. As the sun sank lower, he was happy to see them relax after the day's tensions. He’d wanted to give them their imps when they first arrived, or after the demonstration, but they seemed a little too skittish. Their reactions were causing him to doubt his strategy. If his most loyal supporters were repelled by them, wider acceptance was going to be a non-trivial hurdle. He’d been working on an improved version of the imps for months, but making them less threatening, or light forbid, ‘cute’, seemed deeply at odds with his plans. He hoped time might be the missing ingredient. Once they get a bit more familiar with them, they’ll come around. The imps were really nothing for them to fear.
The demonologist sat alone, observing how his men were dealing with the news. He was deep in thought, adjusting his plans and ruminating on his concerns. Was he forcing them to do things they weren’t comfortable with? The basis of his entire plan was that the whole world was to benefit from the imps, so it had to start somewhere, or he might as well give up. They seemed to be taking it as well as he could have hoped.
Catching a wisp of savoury smells, he thought it was scarcely fair to relax while Stanisk was busy in the kitchen. He rose to see if he could lend a hand with dinner. During their overland trek to the capital months ago, it was clear that Stanisk was a superlative cook, but Grigory was a dexterous helper. Much of what he knew about surgical techniques had been picked up preparing meals.
Grigory arrived at the great hall that served as the eating area. In the centre of the chamber, two long tables stretched across the room, capable of seating fifty, though only four simple chairs he had crafted a few weeks ago were present. His men had yet to grasp the potential of the imps' labour; instead of proper seating, they had improvised with crates and timbers haphazardly arranged around the tables. Near one table, a jute sack of potatoes lay abandoned on the floor, possibly mistaken for a makeshift seat. Grigory hoped they'd be eating the potatoes, not sitting on them.
Separated from the hall by a low half-wall, the kitchen bustled with activity. Stanisk sat on the thick timber counter, a casual sentinel over dinner’s preparations, while Jourgun and Klive stood nearby, deep in conversation with their commander.
Stanisk’s five imps, in their fancy clothes, dashed around the kitchen. Under his expert guidance they were preparing a grand feast. One was peeling potatoes, another stirred a great bubbling pot, while two were doing dishes.
“Sir, did you know that Stanisk’s imps have names? And fancy clothes! Can I have one like his?” Klive blurted when he saw his employer. “Uh, as it pleases milord, of course.”
“Plus mine bow when they bring us beers! They don't do that fresh out of hell!” Stanisk's toothy smile implied he might have been bowed at by imps a half dozen times already.
Grigory tilted his head and blinked for a second.
Surely a bit of clothes can’t have that much of an impact on their acceptance?
“Oh, Of course! Certainly!” he paused again. “Feel free to ask Stanisk for tips on how he made his.” Observing the bustling activity, “It looks like dinner is well in hand?” The kitchen was huge, far larger than the one at Planed Pine Peak Inn. A half dozen dishes simmered or baked, their aromas — exotic spices, rich gravies, and roasted meats filled the expansive space.
Stanisk replied without glancing away from the imps handling the tasks. “Well in hand, boss. Take ‘er easy tonight!” The imps' movements were quick and fluid, their antics distractingly comical at times. Grigory watched, smiling, as one imp hugged a yam to its chest that likely weighed more than it did, and made its way along the countertop from the vegetable sack to the cutting board. Each step was an exaggerated sway, the creature was badly top-heavy and teetering.
With effort he pulled his focus back, “Capital! I’ve a matter to attend to! Smells great already!”
Grigory went into the factory proper to whip up enough chairs for everyone. Simple wooden ones for now, but with cushions. Cushions were quick enough to make and he had a few cart loads of wool and woollen fabrics. He watched his imps work, glad he could share them with his whole team now. Obviously it made everything a bit riskier, but it was worth it. One of his concerns was that he’d been overlooking opportunities and uses. He was bound by only being able to think his own thoughts, so he was excited to see what non-demonologists would think of.
They carved and joined the pine chairs with their normal speed and accuracy, but watching them sew was its own reward. The imps wielded needles like longswords in their tiny hands, the points moving too fast to see clearly. They stacked up the plain cushions in a neat pile at the end of their low workbench.
He also didn’t have any utensils, placemats, serving spoons nor trivets either, since this was their first proper meal here. He commanded the imps to make those as well, and carry them like a row of ants from the workshop to the dining hall. The demonologist walked around the table, surveying his work. With a minor gesture of flame he lit the lamps, and frowned at the beige-grey of undyed wool of the chair cushions.
He pulled the chairs out, and one at a time enchanted the cushions to bright, cheerful colours. He was going to make them all company purple, but thought better of it. Enchanting colours was a fun spell to cast, because the act of changing its colour also unravelled enchantment as it went. Much like building and knocking over houses of cards, the end effect was a mundane unenchanted object, but in whatever colour he’d chosen. Having done the spell countless times for entire days to prepare for the midsummer tourney, he didn’t even have to check his notes for any of the hues.
Satisfied with his work, though slightly frustrated that his first and last red cushions weren’t quite the same shade, he sat down. He pulled a notebook out of his satchel and started making notes on his ideas for some improvements, mostly for his own use, but some to the things he’d be soon selling. Lost in his own world, he had no idea how much time had passed when Ros and Taritha joined him at the table.
“Good evening, milord,” Ros said deferentially.
The young herbalist elbowed him, “Come on, he had one rule! He was writing!”
“Oh! Terribly sorry, sir!” Ros stammered.
“Not at all, I was basically doodling. How’s your evening going, is everything to your liking?” Grigory closed his notebook and put it away.
“Amazing milord, These rooms are huge! They're bigger than some of the houses I was looking at!” Taritha said.
“Of course! No one wants to live in dingy cells! Glad to hear! It’s easy to make a place bigger when you are building fresh. Let me know if you find anything that needs fixing, our builders are still in town working on the harbour fortress now, but I can have them send someone if there is anything amiss!”
“I don’t reckon neither of us knew palaces this nice existed anywhere, milord!” Ros said with a shrug. “We might not be the best eyes for finding faults!”
“Heh! This is just the rustic first stage! Don’t worry about its crudeness for now, we’ll get there over time!” the demonologist promised, patting his satchel where the notebook of ideas was. His confidence was both unshakeable and unnecessary.
“Not to question your plans, but there are a lot more rooms than people. Are we expecting company? Are we hiring?” Taritha asked. Her eyebrows twitched slightly, having just questioned his plan for the first time.
“Big plans indeed! So that empty stretch east of the main building? That’s also part of our land grant. In a while we’ll be building a barracks there for our troops, while senior officers will stay in the main factory. That’s also why Stanisk will be taking a much more active role with civil defence. It’s central to our plan to secure the town, and by extension our own safety.”
“Our troops? Like us?” Jourgun asked, having joined them at the long table.
“Maybe? Probably not? We’ll see. The plan is to extensively recruit as we can afford it, since the pirate raid was just the beginning. We have something of incredible value, in the form of me, the imps and the factory itself. Many violent people feel they should possess every valuable thing, so we must be vigilant. Not to worry though! That’s just us planning for the worst. In reality, nothing like that will likely happen. Just by being well defended we’ll scare off the greedy.”
“Ah, like why it's dangerous for a beggar to wear a silk robe!” Rikad added as he joined them, along with a few others. The smells from the kitchen were intoxicatingly rich now, as Stanisk and Klive used the imps to finish and plate the meal.
“Just so, a lord can only have what he can defend, and because the first phases of my plan require a certain level of material wealth, I’ll need extensive defences,” Grigory explained as diplomatically as he could.
“The Empire itself will fear our might, milord!” Ros said excitedly.
“Nah, it won’t. That’s a dangerous thought. The Imperial army’s smallest deployable force is a legion, near enough to five thousand men. Even if we hit every hiring and training target, we’se not going to be in the business of fightin’ wars. Just enough to make us a spiky nut. The sort not worth chompin’,’” Stanisk called over from the kitchen.
“Oh,” Ros said, shrinking back into his seat.
“That’s more than all the men in the whole town!” Taritha lamented.
“Yeah, that’s why lil fishing villages don’t win wars. A legion is five thousand infantry with warships, supplies, siege cohorts, and command companies. If’n it’s a real fight, then they might deploy all ten Imperial legions. Then start raising more if’n they’re losing. We ain’t never gonna try to fight that. No nation in the world has ever picked that fight and won.”
To counter the grim tone settling over his celebratory dinner, Grigory chimed in with a reassuring smile, “We’re loyal Hyruxian subjects, and the legions protect us. We pay taxes in full, we’re on the right side of all this. We just want a bit of security against more, uh, regional actors. Besides, a large well equipped force lends our diplomacy weight we wouldn’t otherwise have.”
Now that the table was filling up and his men looked satisfied with his answers, he raised his voice to the kitchen, “How’s it going in there?”
“Good! I bought a deer from one of the hunters this morning, and it turned out just right!” Stanisk replied, personally putting the finishing touches on his creation. Aethlina moved across the kitchen to watch Stanisk work, making Grigory do a double take. He hadn’t realised she was even in the building.
“Oh! Capital! Everyone in the entire company is here now! Even better!” Grigory said, motioning Aethlina to sit by him. He was glad he’d made the full number of chairs!
Stanisk and Klive brought out plates heaped with slices of braised venison, steamed tubers and sautéed onions. Tubs of butter, bowls of gravy, and finally a heaping basket of fresh buns followed. Stanisk took his seat and, smiling with pride, “What’re you helpless kittens lookin’ at? Never seen dinner ‘afore? Dig in!”
The feast was a perfect end to a troubling day, and even though the conversation died down as they ate, Grigory observed every single one of his hirelings intently, relieved to see not a single one seemed put off by a meal made by demons. Catching Stanisk’s eye, he made an empty cup gesture.
“Imps! Bring us all some drinks! Wine, beer and water!” Stanisk shouted to his imps. With speed and efficiency, the little demons filled clay cups and brought everyone three drinks, exactly as ordered.
“Ah, dammit, I meant—It’s fine. Drink what you want and I’ll just dump the rest!” The chief of security’s good humour faded for an instant before returning twice as bright.
“No, I love having three drinks! And the water and beer are cold! In the summer! The gods themselves envy me!” Rikad declared.
“Uh oh! It looks like Mage Thippily made imps, but the imps made the real monster!” Kedril retorted, gesturing at Rikad holding three cups between his hands, rotating them to drink out of each, while spilling beer all over his own arm.
Their high spirits encouraged Grigory. He’d worried they would be morose and frightened tonight, after making them to live in what could be described as a hive of demons. Joking about the imps was beyond his expectations, so he smiled without speaking, sipping his red wine. Not his cherished Malaentian Red, but a nice varietal from the mainland he’d recently imported a few cases of. Once the plates were empty, Stanisk had the imps clear the table and start washing up while everyone remained seated at the long pine table, bellies full to bursting.
“That was spectacular Stanisk! Thank you!” Grigory offered, and everyone else chimed in a breath later.
“Nothing like a lifetime of bland ration bars for months to really spark an interest in what good food ought to be! I’m glad ya’se liked it,” the big veteran said dismissively.
“How is everyone finding their new accommodations? I know I don’t have all the furniture done just yet, but is everyone good for tonight?” Grigory asked, ever the eager host.
The men nodded and looked at each other. Complaining was frowned upon and nothing here was remotely a hardship.
“Capital! Glad to hear it, and by all means bring it to my attention if your needs are unmet!” Grigory sat still and everyone kept looking at him.
Now’s as good a time as any. It’s not even a surprise, I think I mentioned it a few times already.
“Ahem! So! I’d like to present each of you with your own imps! Some ground rules though; there may be people that aren’t ready for this style of magic, so I ask that you don’t mention anything about them anywhere outside of the factory. Or even imply there are any magical creatures, just that things get made here?”
He waited until they all at least nodded.
“Alright! Here you go, I have one for everyone! The imps are identical, so don’t worry about which ones you get. Um. Good luck?” With a shrug he reached down beside his chair and from a leather case he pulled a series of carved wooden boxes, and passed them out to everyone sitting at the table.
***
With a muted clatter, Taritha watched as the small dark boxes were distributed. She wasn’t sure if there was one for her, being fairly new to the company. She wasn’t sure how she felt; owning demons seemed like a big step, but the ancient urge to possess something nice or powerful was one she wasn’t immune to. Her heart leapt as a heavy box slid in front of her.
With trepidation, she touched it with one finger; it appeared to be regular wood, perhaps stained oak. The box was small and rectangular, quite thin, and she held it easily in one hand. It was narrow enough to fit comfortably between her thumb and fingers, its weight noticeable but not oppressive. She had expected dread, palpable evil, or something, but it just felt a bit heavy. Turning it over, she saw no visible clasps or hinges. The outside was covered in the flawless ornate carvings she was starting to grow familiar with. This time, the carvings depicted joyful industrial scenes—strong men swinging square hammers, smoke stacks, and laden ships and carts. The central image on each side was gilded with gold leaf, making it strikingly dignified.
Ignoring the excitement and increasing movement around her, she felt as if she were in her own universe. She slowly pulled on the lid, finding it opened on tiny hidden hinges, revealing three ebony totems inside. They were the size and shape of a fairytale wand, resting on a bed of lush green velvet, held in place by a broad ribbon tied in a perfect bow.
Even without considering the priceless nature of the artefacts, she was impressed, almost distracted, by the quality of the presentation. He didn’t have to go to such lengths; she’d expected them to be simply handed to her.
She slid one of the totems out without undoing the bow. It was cool and heavy but otherwise seemed normal. She could see layers of impossibly fine carving, this time gilded with silver. She could sense the potent magic in the object, but it felt strange. She’d examined other enchanted items before, and their enchantments were all transcendently beautiful in a complex and technical way. This was so dense it felt like nothing. Or perhaps everything? She wasn’t sure, but it wasn’t at all like the other objects. Stilling herself and trying to puzzle out its secrets brought her no closer to any revelation. She shook her head and resolved to investigate further in private. She returned the totem to its place in the box and gently closed it.
Only now did she notice the table was thick with imps, more than twenty darting and leaping energetically. Her colleagues had summoned theirs and were already giving orders.
“You two, throw the third imp as high as you can!”
“Merp!”
“All of you, cross the table as fast as you can, but walk on your hands!”
“Merp!”
“Duel with these forks!”
“Merp! Merp!”
The men were laughing and pointing between shouting out fresh orders. All the commands were pointless and frivolous, making Taritha powerfully uncomfortable. These were forces of nature, extraplanar beings of unimaginable power, and they were being made to sprint into empty mugs to see how far the mug would fly!?
She shot a questioning look to the master demonologist to gauge his reaction. He was smiling and complimenting their creativity, so maybe she was overreacting? Still, she had no interest in wasting them on silly games. Emergencies only. Or at least serious concerns only. Not for dodging knotted linen napkins, that’s for sure!
With the burden of responsibility successfully dodged, she was free to watch everyone else’s fun. The cacophony of excitement was so infectious that she found herself giggling and pointing at them racing as makeshift horses, with an imp bent over holding the tiny waist of the imp in front of him, while a third one sat atop as a rider. They were so silly looking and energetic.
“You’re sure this doesn’t hurt or anger them?” Taritha asked.
“Oh my no, it’s not like that at all. They have minds, but lack awareness, or awareness of their own mind I guess? It’s fine! They are just made out of the same stuff as demons, but not actually demonic.” The mage stood up and stretched. “They are remarkably durable, it’s unlikely anything short of silvered steel will harm them. I, on the other hand, am at risk of being badly over-tired already! I trust you will be okay, left on your own! I’ll see you in the morning!”
“I’se properly tired too, but if you want, let's pop into the factory and I’ll show you how to get them to make their own clothes. It’s just tellin’ ‘em to do that, so you’se might not need too much hand holding!” Stanisk pushed himself away from the long table, and motioned for them to follow him.
They went into the cavernous factory, just across the hallway. What was an impressive and huge room in the daylight was now an infinite blackness, like a starless night. A few men had grabbed leviathan-oil lamps off the table, and they huddled in a small circle of warm, safe light. They gathered around a long low table, and Stanisk laid out a few bolts of fabric. The fine weaves were familiar to Taritha; they were the same as those used in the clothes she’d been getting from the company.
“It’s simple enough,” Stanisk said as he put a heavy leather bag of tools on the table. “Just say what you want, with as much or as little detail, and they’ll just make that.”
“Imps, make a suit of legion plate armour, imp-sized, out of shoe leather!” Rikad said with glee.
“Merp!” replied several at once, as they began cutting and forming the leather without hesitation. The imps even used grey wool for the under-mail parts, and tiny flares of hellfire to warp the leather into the right shapes. Soon, a tiny suit of black armour lay on the table, looking like what an imperial heavy infantryman would wear, but distorted to the proportions of the gawky imps.
“I dub thee, Imperial commander, Real Imp. Don thy armour!” Rikad ordered. “Do they remember their names?” he asked over his shoulder to Stanisk.
“Oh yeah, they’re proper sharp!” he confirmed.
“Create an imp-sized lord's robe with a sash of office! When it is done, you shall be known as D’Imp Lomat! I might need a minute to think of the last one though…” Rikad said to everyone watching his imps.
Reluctantly, Taritha opened the box and invoked her three imps. She looked at them closely; as far as she could tell, they were perfectly interchangeable with every other imp.
Looking over the fabrics, she chose a striking blue, a deep red, and a golden yellow. “Imps! Make imp-sized sundresses, mainly white with these colours as a main theme. and matching coloured sun hats,” she added hastily. Their heads were distractingly inhuman, so covering them might help. She watched them work, even interrupting a few times to ask for embroidered details and minor adjustments. Once they finished, she had them don their new outfits.
Oh! The hems seem scandalously short on their long lanky legs! Better than before, but not by a lot.
“Imps, please put on the hats that match the colour of your dress.”
“Merp.”
Much better! They look like ladies now!
“You are now Lady Bluebird, Lady Crossbill, and…” She paused at the last one, thinking of songbirds that were as bright yellow as the fabric. “Miss Goldfinch!”
She leaned back and admired her little ladies. They were far less threatening now, and their dull crimson skin really made the dresses look extra vibrant.
“Dang Taritha, how did you make yours so pretty? I want some pretty ones!” Jourgun commented as he looked over.
“Drool over your own demons! These are mine!” she said playfully. There was an undercurrent of possessiveness that she didn’t expect, but these ones were hers now. “Anyways, I’m going to bed too, you guys are too slow! Have fun, boys!” she said as she devoked her imps. The new clothes fell to the work surface.
“Oh yeah, they don’t take that with ‘em, wherever they go, so just keep it in a lil bag or whatever,” Stanisk said when he saw her distress. “They gotta get dressed every time you invoke it,” he shrugged.
So much to learn today!
With a brave smile, she replaced the totems in the box and gathered the dresses and hats. “Mind if I take…” she said as she slowly lifted a lamp from near Rikad.
“Oh yeah, all yours,” he said dismissively, fully engrossed in examining the tiny lordly robes of D’Imp Lomat.
She went back to the hall, up the wide even stairs to the third floor. She’d only spent a bit of time investigating it earlier, as she and Ros had been anxious about being late for dinner. She saw the heap of her worldly possessions against the wall where she’d left them. The only furniture here was the bed, but by the sounds of it, getting some tables, chairs, and wardrobes would be easy enough tomorrow. She placed the totem box and the tiny outfits on the floor beside the bed.
The bed itself was unlike any she’d ever heard of. Crafted with thick pine beams and topped with a mattress of imported cotton, it was probably wider than her entire hovel. A family of five could sleep on it and barely touch. She couldn’t imagine a more lordly bed. Its refined look and the luxurious softness were worlds apart from the coarse fabric and straw she was used to. Sometimes in the fall, she’d add freshly fallen leaves to her straw mattress for extra comfort, but that was a fleeting pleasure. This bed, however, promised constant comfort. She eyed the pile of heavy blankets at the foot of the bed. Recently, she had bought a single blanket from the market, thin and scratchy, but these were the mage’s blankets—thick, plush, and impossibly soft.
She shut the heavy door and took off her tall boots. The floor felt smooth under her bare feet. Even having a floor was a new luxury; she was accustomed to hard-packed dirt floors like most everyone else. This wasn’t just a floor; it was a delicate herringbone pattern of different kinds of wood, obviously done by the agile imps. It was cleaner, smoother, and more level than any table she’d eaten off before the mage came to town.
She stopped admiring the floor and stripped to her shift. She felt exposed being so undressed around so many men. She reasoned it out—the iron and oak door was stronger than a hide flap, and this would doubtlessly be the safest sleep of her life. Just a reaction, not a reality. She left the lamp on the floor and got in bed.
With a panic, she yelped as the whole bed flowed underneath her, as if she’d stepped on the tail of a sleeping cat. She tried to get up but her feet were already off the floor, and she couldn’t find a stable purchase with her hands. She froze up to think her way out of it, and the bed stopped moving almost as soon as she did.
Her heart pounded in her chest.
Was this an enchantment gone awry? Some bed demon?
Slowly, she log-rolled towards the edge of the bed, and the mattress under her also slowly moved, but not enough to stop her. Slow and steady, she might get free yet. Finally, she was close enough to put a foot down and stand. The bed flowed back to being perfectly flat.
She stood up, with a hand to her sternum, trying to catch her breath.
Think! What did the mage say about this today? It would magically adjust? Maybe that was all it was doing?
She leaned over and gently pushed down with a single fist. It was super pliable, then increasingly firm. But it felt unlike anything else—stacks of clothes or hides all felt different when they got pressed.
It must be magic. No time to be timid, and it would be humiliating to go to either the mage or the chief about this.
The only spell she could reliably cast was a gesture of Mana-Visualization. It caused the invisible lines of arcane energy to glow visibly, in bright colours that hinted at their use and purpose. She cast it to better examine her bed. It wasn’t enchanted as she expected; rather, hundreds and hundreds of things inside it were, and they linked and overlapped in ways she wouldn’t understand if she studied enchantments for a decade. She involuntarily took a step back from it, like finding a hundred warhorses inside a small cabinet.
She dismissed the gesture. With renewed determination, she slowly sat down on the bed. It shifted but only a bit. It was very soft and comfortable. Slowly, she turned and laid back, fighting her panic as the mattress kept shifting everywhere her body touched it, unnervingly lifelike. Fully laying down, she stopped and the mattress stopped. Even as her eyes were still wide with terror, she started to calm down. To test her theories, she rolled onto her side, and the mattress under her hip grew softer, and the part under her ribs grew firmer, until the pressure equalised. Rolling back, she felt it shift again, and once more the mattress's firmness changed all up and down her body, stopping once it was the same shape as her body’s pressure, resulting in sublime comfort.
Oh. This is incredible. I get it now!
She reached to the foot of the bed, pulled one of the soft blankets up to her chin, reached down to extinguish the lamp and drifted off into a better sleep than anyone in the history of her family ever had.
Prev

TL;DR: I’ve been forced to use Accredo and am worried by all the negative reviews I’ve seen and the time tables their representatives have mentioned to me. So does anyone have any experience getting Spravato filled by Accredo?
Backstory to the backstory: two weeks ago our area had really bad storm system come through, and a tree in our backyard fell on our garage, destroying it and cutting the power to our house. So we (my wife, our three kids, and I) are currently displaced, living at my parents’ house, and I’m not doing so well as I’m a creature of habit and routines and everything has been disrupted.
Backstory: I started on Spravato in late November 2022 and went through the typical lower dose twice a week transitioning to higher dose once a week and finally transitioning to higher dose every two weeks. From the start until January of this year, a local specialty pharmacy near the psychiatrist’s office had managed my prescription and we had had no issues. I continued using Spravato, as it eliminated my SI and made my depression manageable with therapy.
In January the local pharmacy told us that they would no longer be handling Spravato at all, and so we had to find somewhere else. We switched to Genoa, which I believe is nationwide and has local pharmacies in many areas, and while it was kind of a rough start (I missed one session as everything was being set up), things had been going fine until last week.
Last week I was scheduled to have a session Wednesday morning. Everything was normal until they called me back, where the nurse informed me that Genoa had called them late Monday to inform them that they were closing the nearest location and could no longer serve patients for my psychiatrist’s office (affecting me and about 30 other patients who also used Genoa). The nurse said they scrambled all day Tuesday but were unable to locate a pharmacy that was able to fill the prescription in time for my session. She gave me the name and number of the pharmacy they were trying (AllianceRx, which I believe is run by Walgreens?) and told me to call them and give them whatever information they needed from me (since they already had the prescription and prior authorization from the insurance that the nurse had sent them). And thus began a large trial of my patience and ability to cope.
I called AllianceRx Wednesday afternoon and gave them my info (consent to send medication and Spravato With Me info), and they said to check back Thursday morning. Thursday morning I check on their website and it says the prescription is processing but they need more info from the psychiatrist and it says I should call my psychiatrist to tell them to call AllianceRx back in order to expedite things. So I call and let them know, and about an hour or so later I get a call from AllianceRx informing me that they can’t fill my prescription and that it needs to go through Accredo. At this point, it’s late enough on Thursday that most businesses either are closed or soon will be, so I decide to wait until Friday to make the next call.
Having no idea about how to contact Accredo, I google them and see nothing but negative reviews. At this point I’m over two days past my missed session and feeling a little on edge and stressed, and these reviews make my anxiety spike. So I call my insurance to ask why AllianceRx can’t fill my prescription and why it has to go to Accredo with all its negative reviews. After getting transferred (main line to pharmacy department to specialty pharmacy department), they first tell me I have to fill it at Genoa. When I explain that Genoa is closed in our area, they then say they are not sure but it may have to be Accredo. When I ask why and again mention AllianceRx, they tell me that AllianceRx can call them and request an override so they can be the one to fill it.
So I call AllianceRx back and give them this information, and after they have some phone calls back and forth with my insurance (while I’m on hold), they tell me that they are working on the override and will call me back either that afternoon or Monday morning. Both come and go without a word from AllianceRx. When I check my status on their site late on Monday morning, I see my prescription has been marked canceled. I call AllianceRx and apparently whoever worked on my account late Friday/early Monday didn’t read the notes on my account and tried to process it as normal (instead of an override), which the insurance rejected (telling them it had to go to Genoa).
I go back to my insurance and they tell me Genoa, and so I remind them again that Genoa is closed. So they come back and say Accredo, and when I inquire about the previously mentioned override, they dismiss it as an option. By the time I get off the phone with them, it’s time to meet with my therapist. My therapist (upon hearing all of this) tells me to call my psychiatrist’s office and insist that my doctor act as a patient advocate for me with the insurance. I call and leave a message for my psychiatrist and the RN who runs my sessions, as it this point it’s already after hours on Monday.
First thing Tuesday morning I’m on the phone with my psychiatrist’s office. They got my message and had already called insurance who apparently told them it had to be Accredo and nothing else would work. So my psychiatrist faxed the prescription and prior authorization to Accredo and then called them to also give them the prescription over the phone and to express that this was urgent. My psychiatrist recommended that I call Accredo ASAP and give them whatever info they need and again express that it was urgent that it get filled quickly.
I call Accredo and after being on hold for 20-30 minutes I get a hold of a representative. She takes down the info they need and supposedly mark the order on my account as urgent. She says they are checking my insurance coverage/benefits and will call me back by that afternoon. As expected at this point, no call comes.
Yesterday morning I called Accredo back to inquire about the status and again stress how urgent this was (as now I’m at a week past my missed session). They say it’s still in the same state (checking insurance), but since my order has been marked urgent that it should “only take them 1-2 business days” instead of “the usual 7-10 business days.” I’m a bit flabbergasted by this (as I have no idea why it would ever take so long), but I go along with them when they tell me to check back in the afternoon.
When I call in the afternoon, it’s still in the same state. The representative I talk to though contacts the department that deals with that and finds out that someone actively started working on my account an hour before I called and so it should be at most another 24 hours. She insists they will call me by Thursday afternoon. I bet you can guess what happened.
This morning I logged into my account at Accredo (just to see if anything was there) and saw no indication of any progress. Still I had said I’d wait until the afternoon, so I instead spent the morning on the phone with insurance. I tried to request a patient advocate from them to work with Accredo to try and speed things along, but they said they couldn’t do anything. They said I’d need to call Accredo and deal with it myself.
The afternoon came and went with no call from Accredo, and so here I am now. 8 days past my missed session and feeling a bit like I’m spiraling back into my depressive ways of thinking. Combine that with the whole being displaced thing and it’s not a good time. Even if Accredo calls me back first thing tomorrow and is ready to ship right away, it would likely be mid-next week at the earliest before I could have a session.
So that’s what I’m here. I want to know people’s experience filling Spravato through Accredo. What sort of time table am I looking at, what hurdles will I have to jump, and how much of a pain will it be. I appreciate any and all replies. Thanks.

Ever since Bluehost updated their dashboard / interface about 6 months ago, I have had issues with my email not sending / receiving and my websites being completely down.
I cannot even log in to webmail directly. The web page sits and spins and I get an error message “This site cannot be reached”.
My email stops working EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. For at least 2 to 4 hours or longer.
When I contact Bluehost about it, they deny anything is wrong on their end. They claimed once that my IP address wasn’t “white listed”, but it is. My boyfriend who works in IT, sitting right beside me, has no problems with his emails. My gmail accounts work just fine. I know Bluehost is doing something on their end to force my email to work, because every time I talk to them, I know they do something on their end and then all of a sudden my email starts working again, but every time they deny anything was wrong.
I am curious what could actually be going wrong that they are not admitting to?
Another issue that I have seen talked about on Reddit, are my emails suddenly going to spam mid-thread. My client emails me, I respond, they receive it, they respond back, I respond again then that email response suddenly gets sent to spam.
This week all of my websites were down for 2 days. They would get redirected to a domain name I own, but there isn’t a website associated with that domain name.
Why would my published websites suddenly be pointing to or being redirected to a different / wrong domain name?
WTF is going on at Bluehost!?!
If I move my email accounts to Google Suite or Microsoft will this help solve my email issues?
Obviously, I am also looking for a new web host. Any recommendations?

34 sw is 190, height is 5'0 and gw is 160. Is 1200 too low? Been at this for almost 2 months and scale isn't budging. Getting in almost 10k steps daily, minimum has been around 8-9k and I'm at the gym 3-4 times a week. What am I doing wrong? Also, if I'm understanding this concept correctly, I'm eating 1200 cals a day and burning about 2,450 then I should see progress, correct? So why am I not? :( also, I do increase calories on strengthening days to about 1,300-400
Update: I appreciate all the feedback. I do want to mention that I've had blood work done many times and all my results come back normal. Actually, my last test my dr was very happy with the results. She said to me "Wow, this is amazing. Keep doing whatever you're doing. These results are truly wonderful." Her exact words. I was very happy to hear. I also did thyroid blood work and that came back normal too. I drink close to a gallon of water per day and I weigh everything. At work I will have 1 coffee with my favorite creamer. About 2 tbsps. I feel like for me, this is my daily cheat since the rest of the day I'm on top of everything but I'llstart tracking again. Breakfast is a high protein low carb meal, then a protein shake, then a walk, then dinner. I don't snack unless I'm craving salt and that's about once or twice a week and I will weigh and log whatever that is. Now, I have been lifting weights alot so it could also be muscle. Moving forward, I'll increase my steps and continue with my normal gym routine and see how that goes. Thank you all for your help!

As far back as I can remember, I had always been passionate about the great outdoors. My love for the wilderness began when I joined the scouts, exploring the diverse landscapes of Southern California, Nevada, Arizona, and Utah. I was never a huge fan of the dry, barren landscapes, but camping provided a much-needed escape from the monotony of Orange County suburbia.
The first time I visited the Pacific Northwest, I was enchanted. The scenery was breathtaking—majestic mountains, lush fields, and meandering rivers. It was clear that anyone who praised the desert's beauty had never laid eyes on the Cascades. Seeing grass and wildflowers growing without irrigation was practically a revelation.
When I was old enough, I moved to Washington state, immersing myself in nature every weekend. My adventures took me hiking through dense forests, camping by serene lakes, and occasionally taking mushrooms under peaceful waterfalls.
I joined several online forums dedicated to outdoor enthusiasts. One community that particularly fascinated me was the Northwest Tomb Raiders. This group of history buffs and thrill-seekers was dedicated to uncovering artifacts, whether Native American relics or treasures hidden in modern ruins. Many members were collectors, fencing their finds to museums and archaeologists, which made it a rather profitable side gig, should you be lucky enough.
In the fall of 2009, an intriguing post appeared on the forum. A user named Lokk claimed to have discovered a cache of artifacts with Scandinavian origins. He couldn't carry everything back due to the treacherous terrain and his age, so he shared the coordinates, hoping someone else could retrieve the items. I scrolled down to see a few posts of people planning to loot it in the Spring, when the paths have reopened. One user, Patagooner, planned on going as early as possible.
Excited by the prospect, I gathered my two friends, Carl and Noah, for the expedition. They weren't as enthusiastic about camping as I was, but after I told them how much a single arrowhead goes for on the black market, they were on board. It was the start of winter now, which had its advantages and disadvantages. On the plus side, the rangers would have a harder time spotting us. On the downside, the harsh conditions posed a serious challenge for two inexperienced hikers.
I must’ve blown about four grand at REI on gear for them, justifying it with the knowledge of how much more I would make with two extra packs. That is of course assuming there really were as many artifacts as Lokk had said, and Patagooner hadn’t beaten me there.
The journey began like any other. We met in the pre-dawn darkness and went over our supplies, ensuring we had everything we needed. By mid-morning, we were on our way, my pickup truck winding up the mountain paths. The roads of Olympic National Park were the epitome of the raw, untamed beauty of the Pacific Northwest.
They snake through ancient forests, where towering Douglas firs and Western hemlocks create a verdant canopy overhead. Mist clings to the trees, giving the landscape an ethereal quality. Occasionally, the forest would open up to reveal breathtaking vistas of snow-capped peaks and deep, shadowy valleys.
As we climbed higher, the landscape grew increasingly desolate. The dense forest thinned out, replaced by rugged terrain and jagged rock formations. The air grew colder, and the first flurries of snow began to fall, dusting the ground in a thin, white layer. The road became narrower and more treacherous, winding precariously along the edge of steep cliffs.
Finally, a road closure blockade signaled the end of our journey in the truck. We unloaded three dirt bikes—one mine, two rentals—and continued up the trail. The bikes roared to life, carrying us several more miles into the wilderness. The trail twisted and turned, cutting through dense underbrush and over fallen logs. The snow began to fall more heavily, blanketing the forest floor and muffling the sound of our engines. The world around us grew quieter, more isolated.
Eventually, the snow became too deep to traverse by bike. We dismounted and prepared to continue on foot. The silence of the forest was profound, broken only by the occasional rustle of branches in the wind. I checked my modern GPS, its screen displaying the coordinates and a relief map of our destination.
The cold air bit into our cheeks as we trudged through the snow-laden forest. The silence was almost oppressive, broken only by the crunch of our footsteps and the occasional call of distant wildlife. The GPS indicated we were close to our destination, but the dense underbrush and uneven terrain made progress slow.
Suddenly, Carl's excited whisper cut through the stillness. "Hey, look at that!"
He pointed to a small, furry creature ambling through the trees. It took a moment to realize what it was—a bear cub, innocently exploring its surroundings.
My heart sank. "Carl, get back," I hissed, my voice low but urgent. "Where there's a cub, there's a..."
Before I could finish, a massive shape exploded from the trees. The mother bear, easily three times the size of the cub, charged at Carl with a ferocity. She was a blur of dark fur and powerful muscles, her roar echoing through the forest.
"Run!" I yelled, but it was too late. The bear was upon Carl, swiping at him with her massive paws. He screamed as he fell to the ground, the bear towering over him. Desperation and adrenaline surged through me. I grabbed the nearest heavy branch and swung it at the bear, hoping to distract her.
Noah joined in, shouting and waving his arms. We had to be careful; one wrong move and she would turn on us. The bear snarled, turning her attention away from Carl for just a moment. It was enough for him to scramble backwards, clutching his bleeding arm.
"We have to get him out of here," I shouted to Noah, who nodded, fear etched on his face. The bear, still enraged, seemed torn between attacking us and protecting her cub.
Using the brief respite, we hauled Carl to his feet. His face was white, and he was clearly in shock. Blood soaked his sleeve, dripping onto the snow. "There's a ranger station about two miles from here," I said, my voice shaking. "We need to get him there. Now."
We half-carried, half-dragged Carl through the forest, every shadow and sound heightening our paranoia.
Finally, after what felt like forever, the small, wooden structure of the ranger station came into view. We had been avoiding the rangers to keep our expedition secret, but now it was our only hope.
Pounding on the door, I prayed for a quick response. The door creaked open, and a weathered face appeared. "What happened?" the ranger demanded, taking in the sight of Carl's bloodied form.
"Bear attack," I gasped. "We need help."
The ranger's expression shifted from suspicion to urgency. "Get him inside. We've got a first aid kit and a radio."
As we eased Carl onto a makeshift bed, the ranger inspected his wounds. "You're lucky," he said after a moment. "The cuts are deep, but they missed any major arteries. He'll need stitches, but we can handle that here. No need for an airlift."
The ranger's face darkened as he turned to me. "What the hell are you boys doing out here?”
I hesitated, "We... we were just exploring."
The ranger's eyes narrowed, his anger palpable. "Exploring? In a restricted area? In the middle of winter? Are you out of your minds?"
He worked quickly and efficiently, cleaning and stitching Carl's wounds. Carl winced but stayed silent, his eyes closed in pain.
"Do you have any idea how dangerous it is out here?" the ranger continued, his voice rising. "The storm, the wildlife... This area is off-limits for a reason! You should have known better." he said, pushing a finger into my chest.
"We'll stay here for the night," he continued, "The storm's getting worse, and it's too dangerous to move him now. We'll reassess in the morning. And count yourself lucky I don't arrest your asses."
Night fell quickly, the storm outside growing more ferocious with each passing minute. The howling wind battered the small ranger station, and the walls creaked under the pressure. We huddled in the main room, the tension thick in the air.
The ranger looked at us sternly. "I need to check the perimeter and make sure everything is secure. There are things out there you don’t want to encounter, especially in this storm."
"Things? What do you mean?" Noah asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
The ranger's expression hardened. "Just stay put. No matter what you see or hear, do not leave this cabin. Understood?"
We nodded, the seriousness in his tone leaving no room for argument. "We'll stay put," I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt.
The ranger grabbed his coat and shotgun. "I'll be back in an hour. Do not leave this cabin." With that, he opened the door and stepped into the raging storm, disappearing into the darkness.
As soon as the door closed, I turned to Noah. "We need to go. Now."
Noah's eyes widened. "Are you crazy? He said to stay put."
"If we wait until morning, we'll be escorted out of here and lose our chance. This might be our only opportunity to find those artifacts."
Noah hesitated with uncertainty "But... what about Carl?"
"He'll be fine here. The ranger can take care of him. We have to do this now."
Reluctantly, Noah nodded. "Alright. Let's take what we can and go."
We quickly looted extra gear from the cabin. I checked the GPS one last time before we slipped out into the storm, the cold wind battering us.
The snow fell heavily, obscuring our vision as we slogged through the forest. The ranger was nowhere in sight as we made our way towards the our destination, each step filled with trepidatious excitement.
The storm began to die down as we approached the coordinates. We stepped into a clearing where the undisturbed snow lay like a pristine white blanket. In the center stood an ancient, weathered stone altar, encircled by intricate wooden carvings, delicate metalwork, and beautifully crafted statues. The sight was breathtaking, a treasure trove, a veritable museum of paganism.
Noah and I exchanged glances, our eyes wide with amazement. "Do you see this?" I whispered, barely able to contain my excitement.
"We're going to be rich," Noah replied, his voice trembling with awe. "These must be worth a fortune!"
We approached cautiously, as if the vision before us might disappear. The craftsmanship was stunning. I reached out to touch a carved wooden idol, marveling at the detail. "This is incredible," I said, my voice barely audible.
We began to load our packs with as many artifacts as we could carry, each one more exquisite than the last. It was beyond our wildest dreams. We were so engrossed in our task that we didn't notice the small figure watching us from the ridge.
It wasn't until I turned to leave that I saw her. A young girl, maybe eight years old, stood there, her blue eyes wide with curiosity. She was dressed in simple, rustic clothing, her blonde straight hair blowing gently in the wind. For a moment, we just stared at each other.
"Noah," I whispered urgently, nudging him. "Look."
He turned, his eyes following my gaze. "What the...?" he muttered, his voice trailing off.
The girl took a tentative step forward, her eyes fixed on the items in our hands. There was no fear in her gaze, only a quiet intensity that made my skin crawl.
"Who are you?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
She tilted her head slightly. "My name is Sigyn."
"What are you doing out here, Sigyn?" Noah asked, his voice shaky.
"I live here,"
"You live here?" I echoed, incredulous. "Is there anyone else around?"
"Yes," she whispered.
"Where?" Noah demanded, looking around nervously.
"Everywhere," she said with a giggle.
The way she said it, so matter-of-factly, bothered me deeply. Noah and I exchanged a look, both of us trying to figure out what to do next.
"We can't take her back to the ranger," Noah started, "We'll lose everything."
I nodded, my mind racing. "Sigyn," I said slowly, "we need to know who else is here. Can you help us?"
She looked at me with her piercing blue eyes, then said, "I'm sorry."
"For what?" Noah asked.
"For what's going to happen to you," she replied, her voice tinged with sadness.
"You need to tell us what's going on," Noah said, grabbing her arm roughly. "Why are you out here alone?"
She looked up at him, unperturbed. "I am not alone," she said softly.
Before we could press her further, a loud, guttural mooing sound echoed through the clearing. We turned towards the direction the girl had come from, and there, emerging from the shadows, was the silhouette of an elk. As it approached, my stomach dropped. Its body was a grotesque amalgamation of life and decay. Its skull was fully exposed, the eye sockets dark and empty. Large patches of its ribs were visible, the flesh around them rotted away.
The elk's movements were slow and deliberate, its head swaying as if in a trance. It walked directly towards us, its hollow eyes fixed on Sigyn. The closer it got, the more the stench of death filled the air—a nauseating mix of decay and earth. I fought the urge to retch.
Sigyn stood up, her expression calm. The monster sniffed her gently, its nostrils flaring. Without a word, she climbed onto its back, mounting it like a horse. It was a surreal and horrifying scene ripped straight from a nightmare.
As she settled onto the elk, she looked back at us, "A thief in the night shall reap what he sows," she said, her voice carrying an otherworldly echo. "Beware the price of stolen dreams."
With that, the beast turned and began to walk away, Sigyn riding it into the shadows of the forest. We stood there, frozen in place. The realization that we were in far over our heads began to sink in. This started to feel like a trap.
We need to get out of here," My voice trembling. "Now."
We turned to leave, our packs heavy with the pilfered goods. But as we took our first steps, the forest around us seemed to come alive. Shadows moved among the trees, and whispers floated on the wind. I quickened my pace, glancing nervously over my shoulder.
"Did you hear that?" Noah asked sharply,
"Just keep moving," I commanded.
A figure emerged from the shadows, blocking our path. It was a man, tall and gaunt, his eyes burning with an intense light. "Where do you think you're going?" he asked, his voice cold and menacing.
"We're leaving," I stammered. "We didn't mean any harm."
The man smirked, and with a swift motion, he raised his hand. More figures appeared, closing in on us from all sides. We were surrounded.
"Run!" I shouted, shoving Noah forward.
We sprinted through the forest, branches whipping at our faces and legs. The figures pursued us, their footsteps silent and relentless.
Noah stumbled and fell, his pack spilling open. Statues scattered across the ground, glinting in the moonlight. "Help!" he cried, scrambling to gather the items.
"Leave them!" I shouted, pulling him to his feet. "We have to keep moving!"
But it was too late, their hands seizing us. I struggled, kicking and thrashing, but their grips were too strong. They forced us to the ground, binding our hands with rough, coarse ropes.
"Please," I begged, "Don't hurt us."
The man who had first appeared stepped forward, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "A thief in the night," he mocked.
They dragged us through the forest, the trees closing in around us like a cage. We were at their mercy.
In the distance, I could see the elk standing at the edge of the clearing, Sigyn still astride its back. Her eyes met mine, and for a moment, I thought I saw a flicker of pity. But then they turned away, disappearing into the shadows once more.
We were dragged into the heart of the forest, our struggles futile against the unyielding grip of our captors. As we broke through the treeline, a massive bonfire came into view, its flames licking the night sky. Shadows danced around the clearing, cast by the flickering light. A woman stood at the forefront, her presence commanding.
Her eyes were milk white, devoid of pupils, and her long, flowing white hair cascaded down her back. She was completely naked, her skin pale and marked with intricate symbols. Atop her head, she wore an elk skull, its antlers extending like eerie, skeletal fingers. She beat a drum emblazoned with more of the same cryptic symbols, each thud resonating deep within my chest.
Around the fire, about two dozen people stood, all drinking from crude, horned cups. Their faces were solemn, eyes fixed on the woman as she led them in a haunting chant. The atmosphere was thick with a mix of reverence and intoxication.
We were forced to our knees before the woman, who paused her drumming to look down at us. Her gaze was haunting, as if she could see into the very depths of our souls.
"Who are you?" Noah demanded, his voice trembling.
The woman ignored him, raising her arms to the sky. The chanting grew louder, the rhythm of the drum faster and more frenzied. The air around us seemed to vibrate with energy, the flames of the bonfire growing higher and more intense.
I glanced at Noah, fear mirrored in his eyes. The woman began to speak, her voice low and melodic, but filled with power, in a language I couldn't understand. Suddenly, she stopped, lowering her arms. The chanting ceased, and an silence fell over the clearing. She looked directly at me, her white eyes unblinking.
En tjuv i natten skördar vad han sår, akta dig för drömmar som du stjäl och får.
Hans skratt bevakar lundens gömda stig, där skuggor sveper över skogens liv.
För varje stulet andetag och svek, måste en tjuv möta sitt smärtsamma ödelek.
Tricksterns vilja, vår ande här, så i hans nåd, våra liv bär.
I was terrified and confused. She started again, softer, in a way I could understand.
A thief in the night shall reap what he sows, beware the price of stolen dreams.
His laughter guards our hidden groves, where shadows cloak the forest's seams.
For every stolen breath and lie, a thief must meet his painful end.
The tricksters will, our spirits tie, so in his grace, our lives suspend.
The crowd surged forward, grabbing Noah first. He screamed, his terror echoing through the trees as they pulled him towards a makeshift altar beside the bonfire. The woman chanted louder, her voice rising in a hypnotic rhythm as they began their gruesome work.
They stripped him of his shirt and bound his arms to a wooden frame. I tried to move, to help him, but the grip on my shoulders tightened, pinning me to the ground.
The woman approached Noah, holding a knife with a blade that gleamed in the firelight. She started to slice into his back, her movements deliberate and unhurried. Noah's screams pierced the night as she methodically carved the shape of wings into his flesh.
Blood poured from the wounds, soaking the ground beneath him. The crowd's chant grew louder, almost drowning out his cries. I watched in horror as the woman reached into the incisions, breaking the ribs and pulling them outward, creating a parody of wings.
Noah's agony was unbearable to witness. His screams turned to whimpers, his body convulsing in pain. The woman didn't stop until the work was complete, his lungs exposed and hanging grotesquely from his back.
They lifted Noah's broken body and placed him over the fire. The smell of burning flesh filled the air, making me gag. His life ebbed away as the flames consumed him, the once vibrant light in his eyes fading to nothing.
The woman turned to me, her expression devoid of mercy. "You will meet the same fate," she said, "He demands it."
The smell of burning flesh and the sight of his broken body over the fire was seared into my mind. Despair settled over me as I closed my eyes.
A deafening blast shattered the night. My eyes flew open to see the shaman stumbling backward, a gaping wound in her chest. She collapsed to the ground, her white eyes staring lifelessly into the void.
The villagers turned in shock as another shot rang out, this time hitting one of the men holding me. I twisted free from their grasp and saw the park ranger standing at the edge of the clearing, a pump-action shotgun in his hands. He fired again, the sound echoing through the forest, before one of them tackled him to the ground.
"Run!" he shouted, his voice raw and desperate. "Get the hell out of here!"
I didn't need to be told twice. I sprinted into the darkness, the chaos of the clearing fading behind me. Branches whipped at my face, and the snow underfoot made every step a struggle. I could hear the sounds of fighting and gunshots, but I forced myself to keep moving.
The cold air burned in my lungs, but adrenaline pushed me forward. I didn't stop until I reached the station, my legs threatening to give out from under me. I burst through the door and slammed it behind me.
Inside, Carl lay where we had left him, his face pale and twisted in pain. I stumbled to the radio, my hands trembling as I fumbled with the controls.
"Mayday, mayday!" I yelled into the microphone. "This is an emergency! We need help! Please, someone, come quickly!"
Static filled the room, punctuated by my ragged breaths. I repeated the call, my voice growing more frantic with each passing second. Finally, a voice crackled through the speaker. "This is Ranger Station Bravo. What's your location? Over."
I could barely form the words. "Olympic National Park! The ranger station near mount Christie! We're under attack! Please, send help!"
"Copy that. Help is on the way. Stay put and stay safe. Over."
I collapsed to the floor, my body trembling with exhaustion and fear. Carl moaned softly, his eyes fluttering open. "What… What happened? Where's Noah?”
Tears streamed down my face and I found myself choked up. “He’s gone, man. Help is coming.”
The minutes stretched into an eternity as we waited. The wind howled around the station, and every creak and groan of the structure set my nerves on edge. I couldn't shake the feeling that we were being watched, that the forest itself was closing in on us.
The radio crackled again, this time with a different voice. "Helicopter en route, ETA fifteen minutes. Prepare for extraction."
I glanced at Carl, his eyes filled with confusion. "Hang on. We're getting out of here."
As the minutes ticked by, I couldn't help but think about the ranger. He had saved my life, but he hadn't made it back. My mind conjured up images of what might have happened to him, the cultists overwhelming him in the darkness. A sense of guilt gnawed at me, knowing he had sacrificed himself for us.
The sound of rotors cut through the night, growing louder as the helicopter approached. I ran to the window and saw its searchlight piercing the treetops, scanning for the station.
I helped Carl to his feet, supporting his weight as we made our way to the hatch. The helicopter hovered above, lowering a rescue basket. The wind from the rotors whipped the snow into a frenzy, but I didn't care. Salvation was finally here.
We secured Carl in the basket first, and I watched as he was hoisted up, disappearing into the safety of the helicopter. My turn was next. I realized that I was now alone and exposed. Fear coursing through me as I scanned around the edge of the forest, expecting to be grabbed and taken seconds before my rescue. But the moment never came. As I gripped the rope, I took one last look at the forest below. The flames of the bonfire still flickered in the distance.
I was lifted into the air, the ground falling away beneath me. The helicopter's crew pulled me inside, and I collapsed onto the floor still holding onto my pack, my body finally giving in to exhaustion. The doors closed, and the helicopter banked away, leaving the horrors of the park behind.
Weeks had passed since the harrowing events, but the memories clung to me like the bitter cold. I had returned to civilization, seeking solace in the familiar chaos of the city. I found a wealthy collector through a network of contacts. The artifacts fetched a price tenfold the cost of gear. The money was substantial, but as I held the cash, it felt like a hollow victory.
Noah's absence weighed heavily on me. His disappearance was chalked up as a missing persons case, and despite my best efforts to explain what had happened, no one believed me. The authorities conducted a search of the area, but they found no trace of the cult, the artifacts, or the clearing. It was as if the forest had swallowed up all the evidence.
I returned to the site where we had parked the truck. The dirt bikes were gone, stolen by opportunistic thieves, but the truck remained. I drove back in silence, the road winding through the dense forest. For a moment, I thought I saw the girl watching me from atop a ridge until I realized it was just paranoia. I stepped on the gas a little harder.
Back home, I checked the Tomb Raiders forum again. The post that had led us into the forest was gone, deleted without a trace. I messaged the mods, but apparently, they don’t keep records to maintain confidentiality. I wrote about our experience, detailing every terrifying moment, but the responses were skeptical at best. Most dismissed it as a work of fiction or a desperate cry for attention.
Time passed, and I tried to return to a semblance of normalcy. Yet, the wilderness called to me stronger than ever. It was my sanctuary, the only place where I could find peace amidst the turmoil. I spent more and more time outdoors than ever before, but now it always felt like I was just running from something.
Determined to prove what had happened, I returned to the forest with a camera and recording equipment. This time, I documented every step, capturing footage of the trees, the snow, and the eerie silence that hung in the air. I retraced our path, hoping to find the clearing again. But each night, as I reviewed the footage, something strange would happen. The files would be corrupted or entire segments missing.
I pressed on. I found the site where Noah had fallen, the ground still bearing faint traces of what had happened. I set up the camera and began to speak, recounting the events in detail. As I spoke, a cold wind swept through the clearing, and the camera's screen flickered. I finished my account and turned to check the recording, only to find the file corrupted once again, the footage replaced by static and a faint, mocking laughter.
I returned home, defeated and exhausted. My attempts to share what I had experienced were met with disbelief and ridicule. The files I managed to save were corrupted beyond recognition. It was as if the forest itself was conspiring against me.
Almost exactly one year later, as I browsed the forums, a new post caught my eye. It was cryptic, eerily similar to the one that had led us into the nightmare. It spoke of another trove of artifacts, hidden deep within the wilderness, waiting to be claimed.
The post was signed with a new name: Skygge. Different handle, same style. Another trap. They had taken so much from me, left scars that would never heal. I opened my drawer, my fingers brushing over the cold metal of my weapons. This was the moment I had been waiting for. This time, I'll be ready.
The forest’s secrets won't remain hidden forever.

Infoblox veteran here,
I have always enjoyed the stability of the NIOS appliances and VMs, and they filled an early GAP left by MS and other vendors and had a solid product with good support and ROI for decades.
Fast-forward to today...
Our last upgrade experience was... kind of a mess. Our environment is not complex, the migration plan involved a lot of steps I thought were just ridiculous to have to perform, and it left us honestly a bit "surprised" after the fact with some experience gaps and operational deficiencies. This is after a 12+ hour Professional Services - guided pathway through this period.
My last 4 support experiences have been completely disappointing. There are no longer engineers who "know" the basic product at an advanced enough level to offer first-call resolution. In fact, more than half of the time we end up solving issues ourselves waiting the 8+ hours for an initial response from Infoblox that isn't "upload a support bundle and database backup" which apparently they can't just keep on file, and demand with each new incident. I mean, maybe automate this if you're going to be this way about it?
More often than not, whoever I end up working with, "engineer-wise", is no longer "experienced" enough with the product to get us from point A to point B without spending a week with an open ticket... and not for complicated things. BASIC things.
The support portal "upgrade" appears to have been a downgrade. The compared experience is dismal and uploading these items can be a challenge. I opened dialog twice with them about it and was told to "use another browser" - they ain't changing anything. Also, I no longer get case update context in emails - just a note that it was updated, so I need to log into the portal to do anything - can't even respond via email and have it attached to the ticket.
The poor support experiences (both in the delivered support and HOW it is delivered) coupled with the messy upgrade experience has caused me to begin asking my team "why are we still using this?"
So.. why are we still using this? The maturity of built-in MS tools is really "there" now, and will actually help our cloud transition efforts more than a third-party paid solution would. Especially after late experiences.
The only part of DDI we don't have another small-effort-implementation on (like using MS for DNS/DHCP) is the IPAM component -and there are lots of solutions here that are either open-source or offered with other monitoring/alerting platforms, etc.
So I guess if we find a mature IPAM product that is also a small lift, the tri-force of requirements for us is complete and from my perspective we're out of reasons to spend a bunch of money for a poor Infoblox experience.
What are thoughts about what I might be missing here?
Is Infoblox just going through a "dark period"?
Is this fallout from them reaching a plateau or reduction for on-prem stuff and are walking away from it and toward cloud/security products instead?
I am really trying NOT to add to reasons to want to migrate way from a company with a track record of solid, reliable, supportable product with a respectable ROI, but the last 6 months is indicating to me that our business may need to change with the changing IT landscape. I don't want a small period of darkness to obscure a shining overall years-long relationship.. but I also can't continue to justify what I used to be able to as a responsible business input-giver...
TL;DR: Good years-long experiences, support issues and questionable product quality the last 6 months. reduced "visible" need for Infoblox for our needs versus other solutions that are either already available to us or could be for very low cost. Looking for reasons to continue with Infoblox for DDI given this changing landscape

Okay, so I've been married to my husband (35M) for 5 years, but we've been together for 9. We have three kids, two girls and a boy. The boy is from my previous relationship, and my husband has always been uneasy about me talking to my son's father. At first, I found it somewhat endearing, like he was just being protective, but now I see things differently.
I've cut off communication with my son's father to respect my husband's wishes, but it's becoming increasingly challenging because my husband isn't the best stepfather to my son. He could definitely make more effort to bond with him. A few months ago, I reached out to my son's father because my son was acting out, and we decided to improve our communication for our son's sake.
Recently, my husband went through my Apple watch and found texts where I mentioned talking to my son's dad and asked my son to look at old family photos on Facebook. He got upset, particularly about me saying "we love you very much" to my son, interpreting it as if we're still a family. He accused me of hiding things from him and questioned why I deleted my son's father's number from my call log.
Now, our tax lady informed us that we can't claim my son on our taxes because someone else already did – his father. This is the first time in 13 years, and I agreed to let him claim him and do it every other year. He gave the entire refund to my father for things my son needs. My husband is furious, not about the money but about what he sees as ethical issues, accusing me of cheating and using the situation to leave him.
I'm at a loss here. I feel like my husband is overreacting and jumping to conclusions. He caught me twice, but it's not like I'm having secret love affairs with my ex. I suggested he call my son's father to clear things up, but he refuses. I don't know how to resolve this situation. Any advice?

Okay, so I've been married to my husband (35M) for 5 years, but we've been together for 9. We have three kids, two girls and a boy. The boy is from my previous relationship, and my husband has always been uneasy about me talking to my son's father. At first, I found it somewhat endearing, like he was just being protective, but now I see things differently.
I've cut off communication with my son's father to respect my husband's wishes, but it's becoming increasingly challenging because my husband isn't the best stepfather to my son. He could definitely make more effort to bond with him. A few months ago, I reached out to my son's father because my son was acting out, and we decided to improve our communication for our son's sake.
Recently, my husband went through my Apple watch and found texts where I mentioned talking to my son's dad and asked my son to look at old family photos on Facebook. He got upset, particularly about me saying "we love you very much" to my son, interpreting it as if we're still a family. He accused me of hiding things from him and questioned why I deleted my son's father's number from my call log.
Now, our tax lady informed us that we can't claim my son on our taxes because someone else already did – his father. This is the first time in 13 years, and I agreed to let him claim him and do it every other year. He gave the entire refund to my father for things my son needs. My husband is furious, not about the money but about what he sees as ethical issues, accusing me of cheating and using the situation to leave him.
I'm at a loss here. I feel like my husband is overreacting and jumping to conclusions. He caught me twice, but it's not like I'm having secret love affairs with my ex. I suggested he call my son's father to clear things up, but he refuses. I don't know how to resolve this situation.

Earthlink webmail why do i have to log on twice

Cougars & MILFS