I just need some advice on how to handle this situation, whenever I think about it, my mind pulls me in 100 different directions and I honestly don't know what to do.
Back in 2021, I had my first born at 16 years old with my baby daddy who was also 16. When we found out that I was pregnant, he was not very supportive of the situation. Immediately he scrambled to find someone to take me to an abortion clinic and wanted to keep the entire thing on hush. I honestly had no idea what I wanted to do and being a 16-year-old, I was terrified. I did not end up getting an abortion, and once we passed the first trimester, that option was of course off the table. This was the topic of every conversation but now it was revolving around an adoption. Which I also did not want. When I was about 7-8 months along, he seemed to have started supporting me but it switched on and off. One day we talked about baby names and the next I got messages telling me how much of a b*tch I am and that I f*cked his life up. This continued the same way, every single day for the rest of my pregnancy. I ended up having my baby a week early and surprise surprise, my baby daddy did not come to see his son being born. He slept through the entire thing and when he woke up he made a promise to come see us. But instead, after I brought his son into this world, I had to argue with him the entire time I was in the hospital. He made threats of suicide and told me that he would make sure to include in the note that it was all my fault. I remember one detail of this text specifically, he said "You reap what you sow". Basically saying since I had my child, I caused his death. The day I went home, he suddenly wanted to be involved again. Which I accepted because I loved him and wanted it to work. I was constantly home with my baby and provided all the care and needs that this tiny human needed. He would come and stay a lot but even in the same room as my child, he did not provide care.
Fast forwarding: That same pattern continued for a long time and our partnership eventually took a crumble due to his infidelity. Once we split, he would start seeing my son less and less. He would go days, then weeks, and now, months without seeing my son. He has become an alcoholic and deadbeat. A lot of time for girls, parties, friends, and alcohol but no room to be a father.
Eventually, I caught on to the pattern and now I do not engage with him at all. I even put up an ultimatum, you either step up or step out. He said he was going to step up (and did not) so I went and filed for child support, but he refuses to take the steps for a court date. I really just want to close that whole chapter of my life but I know I cannot just block him and go about my life...right? Idk, I have been thriving with him completely out of the picture, I just know that eventually, he is going to try to come back. I just don't think that it's best for my son to go with him because he is not the type of person I would even normally trust my son to go with. The only reason I allow it is because I feel it's wrong to keep my son away and the one time I did block him, he told everyone I was keeping him away from his son. I know this post is messy and there are so many different factors but any advice at all would help.
I just want to heal and keep my son protected.

I see a lot of expats posting about problems and challenges in their new country, and I am not objecting to that. When you're unhappy, this can be a good place to find some support or at least a sympathetic ear. But I've lived outside of my home country for nearly three decades now, and I'd like to share my story and some of the positives I've experienced.
I was born and raised in Norway. By all accounts, that's winning the birth lottery. I'm proud to be Norwegian, and that will always be a part of my identity. However, in my teens, small town Norway felt kind of boring, and I wanted an adventure, so I went on a pilgrimage.
I was a computer geek before geeks became popular. When you're a computer geek, Mecca is in Silicon Valley, or at least it was back then. And so for my first real trip outside of Scandinavia, I moved to California as a high school exchange student.
High school was different. There was homesickness, but there were also new friends, new activities and a whole new climate. I arrived proficient in reading and writing English, but my spoken accent was very characteristically Norwegian. By the time I left, I was basically fluent. A slight accent remained, but it was no longer a barrier to communication.
I came home with a very pro-US viewpoint. I was dazzled by this land of opportunity, and in retrospect, I was overlooking some of the negatives, even back then. But I decided that I wanted to go back to the US for college.
I did exactly that. This time, I moved to Texas and enrolled at the University of Texas at Austin. This was my first experience really trying to live on my own (in California, I had had a host family) and it would be a lie to say that the international factor didn't make it extra intimidating. My dorm roommate told me he couldn't imagine what it would be like to be that far away from his family. Then his parents moved from Houston, Texas to Fairbanks, Alaska, so I guess he got to find out.
Even I can't find anything positive to say about dorm food, and there were some other problems. Surviving and thriving on a student budget could be tough, for one thing. But there's a silver lining to every cloud. I was able to obtain an off-campus work permit by showing the US government that the strengthening dollar had left my scholarship (in Norwegian currency) inadequate. Work permit in hand, one of the easiest student jobs I could find was a bus driver position with the university shuttle system. Not exactly your typical job for a computer science student, but it paid surprisingly well and I could schedule my shifts around my classes, so it proved a great fit. The only drawback was that junior drivers got no work over the summer when the university ran a much reduced bus schedule.
I solved that conundrum by going into trucking...helped in part by a really nice road trip I had stumbled into with a trucker friend the previous year, and by statements from him and others that I wasn't the trucker type and would never make it in that industry (challenged accepted!) Over the next few years, I was a college student from September through May, and drove trucks coast-to-coast every summer. I made it through 46 states and got paid to see the country.
That likely wouldn't have happened in Norway. Not because Norway doesn't have truckers, but because that kind of random detour from the "ideal" career path wouldn't sit well with Norwegian society. Norway likes social order. America likes individualism. I found that American friends found my little detour into trucking cool while Norwegian friends mostly just found it...odd.
Fast-forward a few years, and my first job offer out of college landed in my lap very unexpectedly. Through a friend in Norway, I landed my first full-time job. However, it wasn't in the US. Or in Norway. It was in Vienna, Austria. And it was too good to turn down, especially in an IT job market on life support after the .com bubble burst.
So I packed my bags and moved to Vienna. I still had an overly positive view of the US, although the way the US conducted itself in the wake of 9/11 would shake those convictions to the core. The job in Austria was fantastic in every way, I had fun at work, I had supportive coworkers...and then I had a few challenges.
One of them is that I have asthma. And in Austria in 2001, people still smoked inside. The first thing that happened in my new job is that I had to walk in and tell the three people I was sharing an office with that they could no longer smoke in the office. Thankfully, HR backed me up, but that didn't exactly win me any popularity contests I tried to be humble and explain as best I could that the asthma was beyond my control, and that did work...eventually. The ice thawed, and I settled into my new job.
But what about when it was time to go home? I did not have much of a social life at first. In the beginning, I could blame the language barrier -- much like my school English, my school German was inadequate at first. My coworkers were mostly fluent in English; the rest of Austrian society, not so much. And after all, I was in their country, it was only proper that I should learn THEIR language. So I put a lot of effort into that, speaking German with my coworkers and with anyone else who would put up with me. This was when I ran into another typical expat problem: Whenever I encountered an Austrian who spoke English, he/she would detect my foreign accent and switch to English unprompted. It took me a while to pick up on Austrian accents in general and Viennese German in particular, but eventually, I did.
That still didn't help my social life. Nor did the fact that bars and other similar venues were off-limits due to the aforementioned asthma. My coworkers were nice and polite, but Austria seems to have a bit of a taboo against socializing with coworkers outside of work. Truth be told, this is a nut I never quite did manage to crack. I did eventually make a number of friends in Austria, but the majority were fellow expats.
One of those friends was an American who had moved to Austria for personal reasons, but still tried to run a business along with a business partner of his back in Florida. To make an already-long story somewhat shorter, they hired me on a skilled worker visa and I moved back to the United States. I was excited to be in the US again, and I was not sorry to leave Austria behind. But I also don't regret taking the opportunity I was given in Vienna. I learned a lot from my years there.
Since then, my career path has been more normal. I've mostly lived in Florida since, with the exception of a few years back in Norway during the Great Recession. Even then, I wound up working for a well-known US company, so I'd sit in Norway fielding conference calls from Oklahoma and Texas. Then I moved back to Florida again because my wife (now ex-wife) decided she didn't want to live in Norway. At this point, I've lived in Florida continuously since 2012. And while I miss friends and family in Norway, life in Florida has been good to me. I've met great people here, and I've had adventures that wouldn't have been possible back home.
My asthma likes the Florida climate. Warm and humid sounds like a nightmare to some, but that warmth opens up my lungs and the humidity keeps the worst of the pollen out of the air. On the social scene, many Europeans call Americans "superficial", but I find that makes it easier to break the ice and make friends. So not everyone you meet is going to be your new BFF, but what's the harm in meeting them anyway?
People often ask me why I would leave Norway when the quality of life there is "so much better" (their words, not mine.) But quality of life is subjective. Sure, there are things I like better in Norway than in the US, but the reverse is also true.
Life has not been the straightforward path I'd envisioned in my teens, but it has been an adventure so far, and I can't wait to see what's around the next corner.

No Way Home was cool and all but behind all the fan service shizz it left me incredibly confused.
So Vulture, from Holland’s verse was dropped into … some unseen Spiderman’s verse with Morbius(ew) and Venom(also ew).
Venom in a post credit scene is also briefly dropped into another verse, I believe it was Holland’s and left a bit of the Symbiote there? So Holland’s verse now has the Symbiote, and some random verse we have yet to even see the Spiderman of has Vulture from Holland’s verse.
Where the hell did the others go? 🤣
I assume they’re gonna make a Sinister 6 movie someday, but I don’t understand how if you only have Morbius, Vulture, and presumably Norman Osborn and Kraven(?)
Does a Spiderman even exist in their verse? I haven’t seen ANY mention of a Spiderman or Peter Parker anywhere in this verse where Venom, Vulture, and Morbius exist.
I mean, I guess you could make the argument that since Morbius was just listening to Vulture mention Spiderman(in that one post credit scene)that of course there has to be one. But that would be completely ignoring the god awful dialogue in that scene, where Morbius contributed as little as possible to that one sided ass conversation other than saying “I’m listening” and “Interesting”.
This Disney Sony split Spiderverse crap is a mess. I like the movies but mashing them all together with this multiverse stuff Disney is doing with Marvel now is a terrible idea.
Especially with how some Spiderman universes are missing things that others have, like the obvious lack of Oscorp in Holland’s world.

Credit to u/SpacePaladin15
Somebody explain how to embed links in text on mobile please
Memory transcription subject: Salvek, Human-Venlil Exchange Program Candidate
Date [standardized human time]: September 3, 2136
I hate banks. Or, more specifically, I hate the United Banking Service. I've never really used another bank, on account of my mother signing me up for a twenty-five year family plan for a cash bonus that never came (it was twenty-five thousand credits, I can't really blame her) but that just makes me hate this one more.
The fat, lazy Gojid on the other side of the bulletproof glass teller window tapped away at his keyboard in order to process my application for a loan. Above him I saw the UBS logo and motto: "Speed, Security, Success." All a load of vyalpic if you ask me. (I will die of old age before this loan ever comes through)
"Sooooo....." Thank the Herd, he was finally talking. I was worried his fat ass had a heart attack and died with how little moving he did. "Your credit score issss....." Oh Protector, just spit it out already! Now I get why predators have such violent impulses. (What if I can't control mine? What if we're worse than them?)
Brahk my intrusive thoughts. How does Jack control his so well? I resolved to ask him when my loan got processed, assuming neither of us starved to death in the meantime. (Speed, security, and success this dick)
"Seven hundred and ninety." Oh, thank Inatala. (Inatala hates predators, can I still say that with one as my best friend?) Venlil credit scores go from zero, being applied to people who took out million-credit loans and blew all the money on gear to unsuccessfully rob the bank they got the loan from, to one thousand, which went to those who panicked over a two credit overdrawn balance and had a heart attack whenever they were a week away from a loan's due date and it still wasn't paid.
Seven hundred and ninety was above average, since my parents had always taught me to manage my finances well, but only slightly above average since Jack's presence and the constant racism that came with it were more trouble than the government stipend was worth. (I would never send him back home, he's better to me than many Venlil)
I thanked the Gojid with sincerity that I meant none of, and asked "Is my loan approved?"
He told me "Yes, it's been approved at..." Oh Herd, not this again. How do his coworkers interact with him? "5% quarterly interest." That's not even bad. (Five percent might be a robbery, but for UBS banks it's decent) "You'll have six months to pay it off in full... or the interest will double every quarter." (Somebody should disband the United Banking Service)
I agreed to these terms, since they were the best I was going to get, and left without another word. Eight thousand Federation credits had just entered my bank account, making me a very rich man. (Not really, but it was the most I'd ever had)
Jack was sitting on a bench outside the UBS building tapping away on his pad. A more skittish Venlil would have assumed that he was plotting something or bathing in the virtual blood of his prey, but I knew better than to assume the game he was playing was predatory.
Never mind, it was absolutely predatory. An army of huge winged beasts descended on what looked like a walled fortress in the middle of a hellish landscape, and lightning rained down from the skies at Jack's command to pick apart what I assumed were strategic defenses. (He might not actively do predator things, but he is excellent at them)
Within thirty ticks of the timer at the top of the screen, the beasts were above the fortress raining destruction on whatever they pleased. A few soldiers ran out of a building near the center of the base, attacking Jack's army, but they were quickly dealt with. Without the defenses that were destroyed by what I assumed was orbital bombardment, the base was helpless against the conquering predator.
A chill ran down my spine as I saw the defenders being slaughtered. A Venlil general or admiral (there were actually surprisingly many when compared to the rest of our military) could accomplish such results but those types of Venlil were very few and often had mild cases of Predator Disease. (That needs a new name. Maybe Arxur disease? No, too scary)
Seeing an average human, whose only military experience was four years serving on a war boat (They still have a boat military? Herd, those predators love their weapons) complete what many Federation officers would struggle to do terrified me for good reason.
We Venlil had treated Humans like they weren't even sapient, just dirt or pests that we had to tolerate. And the rest of the Federation treated them even worse. What if they decided peace wasn't worth it? What if, in our fear of the Arxur, we unleashed a threat worse than them? (Could Jack spare me from a human cattle farm? I'd have to kill myself if he couldn't)
Venlil Prime would be the first world to fall. We'd all die of our own hubris.
"Hell!" Jack turned his pad down so I couldn't look over his shoulder anymore. "I'm sorry you had to see that." Why did he have to be sorry for everything? The way my species, my Federation, treated him and his kind always angered me.
I told him "Don't be sorry. It's not your fault your hobbies are so... you know." I didn't like using the word "predator". At least, not to describe humans. Jack was cool with me using it as long as it wasn't in a derogatory way, (since they are predators) but it just reminded me of how unjustly he and his kind were treated.
Jack clearly didn't listen when I said not to be sorry because he kept apologizing. "Yeah, but it's not your fault you're so damn skittish either. And it is my fault I played Clash... I mean the game here. I should've known better." Herd, why did he never stand up for himself? The exterminators can't be that bad!
I explained to him "You don't have to apologize, Jack. You never meant to scare anyone." and before he could keep apologizing (I know him too well to think he wouldn't) I changed the subject. "We have money at our disposal now, we can buy something from the Mellow Firefruit on our way to the train station."
Jack agreed, but he was worried about "spacists". (Oh Herd, has he lost it?) I asked "What in the Arbor is a spacist?" In case you don't know, the Arbor is where followers of the Great Protector go when they die. It's a huge forest with plentiful and delicious food, and no predators.
When I finally mustered up my courage and told Jack that the god I worship hates his kind, I was half expecting to die horribly by his unusually short claws or extremely dull fangs. (Are they so peaceful because of their lack of natural weapons, or do they lack natural weapons because they're so peaceful? I should ask Jack that)
Instead, he shrugged it off and told me that, apparently, "Jesus still solos." When I explained the Arbor at his request, he had the brilliant idea to convert to worshiping the Protector and then kill himself in order to appear there and scare the afterlife out of everyone else. He quickly and profusely explained that he would never actually do that, but Inatala would never have accepted him anyway so it didn't matter.
Anyway, back to real life. Jack told me "Oh, spacists? They're just space racists except I mushed the two words together. It's a play on words type thing." The words 'space' and 'racists' do not fit together in Venlilese, and frankly, I was astounded that the translator even gave me the concept. (I bought it second-hand from a Mazic who stepped on it one too many times, but it was incredibly cheap)
I told him "If you told anyone but me that the words 'space' and 'racists' fit together then you would be screened for Predator Disease." and he covered his mouth in the gesture that was universally recognized as a prey-safe predator's laugh.
"God, sometimes I forget you guys have a sense of humor."
Just then, I started walking. I was tired, like any Venlil would be after a long walk, a long wait in line and the anticipation of another long walk, but the thought of the sweet, delicious food at the Mellow Firefruit kept me going. (I have to get Jack some, he's been underrating Venlil cuisine ever since he first tried my subpar cooking)
Jack fell in behind me, then he moved up to be at my side as an equal. Us Venlil didn't care where you were in line, but I guess predators have different priorities. (Is thinking 'predator' as bad as saying it? That's a dilemma I need to deal with later) I asked him "How come your claws and... uh... those pointy front teeth are so small?" (I don't like talking about fangs, sue me)
Jack turned to look at me, jerked his head away a little, then he turned and looked at me again. He responded to my question, realized I was a Venlil, and realized I was Salvek, in that order. I was good at reading people. He told me "First of all, they're called nails and canines. And second of all, we've never needed claws so they never evolved." A predator never needing claws was absurd! When would Jack learn that he didn't have to lie to me?
I interrupted my friend's explanation by telling him "Jack, I'm not going to run away or faint just because you tell me that ancient humans hunted. I get it. Just tell me how you lost your claws."
Jack sighed. He didn't sigh a lot, only when he was driven to the end of his very long rope (Turns out that's a human idiom too! Who knew?) by someone else's, usually my, stupidity. "Salvek, we didn't lose them. We evolved to eat fruit from trees, and by the time we were eating meat we had at least developed the art of throwing rocks at things. There was never any need for them, and they never appeared as a result. Satisfied?"
Developing weapons early on did make sense for humans, given how good they are at combat, so I nodded. It wasn't really a Venlil expression, but those in the exchange program had learned everything they could about their human partners. (I'm saying human instead of predator! Progress!) "Yeah, that makes sense."
Jack continued, explaining about human 'canines'. We just called them fangs. "Canines were originally fangs, yeah," He lowered his voice when he mentioned fangs. "but when we made fire around a million years ago, we didn't need them anymore and so they got smaller. I'm no expert, but that's what I know."
That actually made sense. I knew the Arxur didn't eat cooked meat, since I found uncensored raid footage on an internet rabbit hole when I was fourteen, (I peed myself and had nightmares for weeks but no one has to know) but I always assumed humans shared that trait. Maybe I was just like the rest with how I kept comparing humans and Arxur. (Why am I capitalizing one and not the other? No one knows!)
Maybe I was just like the rest. Maybe one day I would lose control and run from Jack, or freeze up, or worse, call the exterminators, and then it would all be over. I could never live with myself if my damned instincts got him to hate me or got him killed. I've only known him for a few weeks, but when we met we just clicked.
It's still weird to me how the concept of platonic soul mates doesn't exist yet.
"That's it, right?" Jack asked while pointing to a red restaurant a few blocks away. That was it. I was about to eat good.
"Yeah, that's it. Come on, let's go!" I ran to the Mellow Firefruit faster than most humans could, on account of my species being designed for sprints, (or we're just better than them) and Jack tagged along in a brisk walk. He was probably trying not to be mistaken for chasing me and shot dead, or worse, set on fire.
I know most predators don't feel pain, but humans do. Why in the Herd didn't exterminators at least have the decency to kill them humanely?
A couple seconds later, Jack was waiting outside the restaurant and looking at his pad while I waited in line (In case nobody noticed yet, I hate lines) for my meal. Jack's meal too, since nobody wanted their entire customer base to leave the second they began serving humans. At least, that was the official reason. The real reason is that most Venlil are still racist.
After an agonizing minute and a half of waiting, since the Mellow Firefruit was a popular restaurant (for good reason, as Jack was about to discover) I finally got to order my food. "I'll have two yaccay salads, and two red fires please." Jack only asked for a salad, but red fires were excellent drinks and if he said no to one I would drink both. I was being smart with this.
"Okay, that will be 43.8 credits." All right, maybe not so smart.
I asked "44 credits?" in shock as my mind struggled to wrap itself around this sudden increase in price. The last time I got a meal here it was only twenty credits.
The cashier, a large green Krakotl who was a tiny bit taller than me, explained "Inflation. Those damn predators brahked up the economy and now we have this." Putting hate on my friend Jack wasn't something I would normally tolerate, but my father had always said it wasn't wise to anger the people who made your food. I just swiped my card across his card reader and stayed silent, like dad would have wanted.
"If you ask me, Sovlin was right."
Was my father really that wise? He probably didn't know what he was talking about.
"How can you say that? No one deserves what he did to Marcel." I shot back, managing to contain the venom in my voice.
The cashier retorted "No one sapient. But those... things that Tarva's dumb ass let roam our planet don't qualify." with barely-contained hatred. (Thank the Herd Jack doesn't have to hear this)
Before I could respond, however, the manager came with my order and reprimanded his subordinate. "Don't get into politics with customers, and certainly don't spit those lies in my establishment!" Maybe the Great Protector was still looking out for me.
The manager handed me my items and apologized profusely. "My cashier here is still new to Venlil Prime. He hasn't gotten used to the... the new arrivals yet. Herd, even I struggle sometimes, and I'm in the exchange program!"
I thanked him, explaining that it wasn't a big deal but the cashier should still be reprimanded, and brought our food to Jack. He wasn't playing that predatory (it was predatory, but predatory didn't necessarily mean bad) game again, but he was scrolling through his account on UHerd.
UHerd was the Venlil's main addition to the galaxy at large, being a huge social media service that Jack had described as "just like Instagram." when he first heard of it. Bleat was another large website just like it, but it was much less known than UHerd. (Fun fact: the U stands for Internet! Maybe not in English, but in Venlilese it does)
Jack never posted much, but he had me and a few mutual friends from the Program followed and he liked hearing what we were doing. I plopped down next to him and handed him his food. "Here, I got you something."
He picked up the salad nonchalantly, but when I handed him his drink, he inspected it curiously. "What in God's name is this doohickey?" He asked.
I told him "Try it, it's a red fire. It's good." and he did try it.
Jack exclaimed "Holy christ!" and the look in his eyes was comparable to what I saw the first time I agreed to being pet. "This is heavenly!" He guzzled the spicy fluid with hunger that would have terrified me if I hadn't seen him devour meals a dozen times before, (He'll eat me next I have to run I have to run run run run for it [oh, shut up already]) stopping only to praise its taste. "This is like the nectar of the gods!" Then "Shit, this is what I was missing out on? We gotta desegregate the restaurants immediately!"
That got him thinking, and I could almost see the money-making gears turning in his head. "You know, Salvek, what if we opened up a restaurant? You could be the official owner and waiter, I could cook some delectable earth recipes, and as long as no one saw me, we could make bank!"
I didn't like that idea. It sounded a lot like a recipe for disaster. I told him "Nah, it would be too hard for just the two of us. And besides, we already have the clothing business." Selling shirts online is a lot easier and cheaper than owning a restaurant.
Since Jack asked me a question, I figured I could ask one too. "Hey Jack, do you mind if I ask you a question?"
Jack didn't care, and he told me as much, so I continued. "How do you keep yourself in check all the time? How can humans control themselves so well?"
He paused for a bit, causing me to involuntarily panic, (he's looking for weak points, or exterminators, he's going to snap my neck for this) but I quelled these thoughts and there was no visible change in my expression. Finally, the colossal man spoke. "How do you do it?"
"W-what?" I stammered, and he picked up a leaf that was blowing in the wind before cherishing his last sip of the red fire.
He held the leaf up to my mouth. "How can you resist the temptation to just chow down on every plant you see? It must be exhausting." I took a brief nibble of the plant, despite it being completely unappetizing in nature, and he told me "See? Your herbivore instincts made you eat it! How can you keep them in check all the time?"
I wasn't a fool, not by any means. I knew he was mocking me. But the thought of a predator not having any predatory instincts was an entirely unheard of concept, bordering on heresy for some. It would probably have gotten me screened for Predator Disease if I spoke of it aloud, but I still spoke of it aloud. (There were no exterminators, I was fine) "So you're trying to say that you don't have predatory instincts? But what about the drive to hunt?"
Jack sighed again, muttering "So smart, but so damn stupid." in a low tone before he explained to me exactly what I wanted to know. "We have the need to eat meat in the same way you need to eat plants, because if we don't do it we die." That made sense. "But just like you don't have a primal urge to devour all the greenery in sight, we don't have any instincts of our own. Make sense?"
It did, but I was still struggling to wrap my head around it, so I just nodded and finished off my salad. Jack had apparently forgot about his salad, as he hadn't touched it. He opened the plastic carton, looked at its contents weirdly, and took a bite.
"This is mid." He told me, point blank. "Like, I don't mean to offend anyone, but it is mid. I'm not even hungry."
I was mildly offended, but there wasn't much I could change about his honest opinion, so I just told him "I thought it was good." and left it at that.
Jack slid his salad over to me (I love these things like my only son) and offered "You can have it. I don't want it." I would have accepted, but I wasn't hungry. Jack didn't really mind, so he threw his salad out and told me "Then we should get going. We have only [1/8 of a claw], I mean... 1/8 of a claw before our train leaves."
I agreed, getting up and walking to the train station, and Jack followed. I was well rested by then, so the brief walk was easy. Jack... Jack was Jack. He never got tired.
We actually made a pretty good pace to the train station, and within 1/16 of a claw we were on our way back to my home district and my third-floor apartment. I had money to my name, I had a huge predator (Human! Damn, those words get mixed up too much) friend, and he and I were about to make a truckload of credits. Life was good.
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Looking for some advice. A very close loved one passed away last weekend and it has me evaluating what I want to do for the rest of my career.
I have been working in Human Resources/IT for the last 10 and a half years in a large hospital system and am making about $65K/yr. I’m getting tired of the corporate environment and the 9-5 schedule. Anyone have any suggestions on alternate career paths for an MBA?
My top skills include customer service, data entry, and working in Microsoft software such as Word, Excel, and PowerPoint.
My top interests/hobbies outside of work include computers, bowling, cars, simple construction, and walking/working out.
I have worked from home since March of 2020 and prefer to work primarily remotely. I’m not opposed to commuting (I love driving), but not during the “normal commute hours”.
I’m open to obtaining new education/certifications as well if needed.
Any suggestions and ideas are welcome.

I was diagnosed as diabetic on April 17th however I’m still waiting for official confirmation of T1/T2 (uk) I have chased the hospital for my blood test results and the nurse advised on the antibody tests that have come back it’s showing as T1 but they are still waiting for the rest of the tests. How did you all cope with your diagnosis? I am struggling. I have a binge eating disorder and basically eat like a 12 yr old and I’m 28F. I used to live on burgers and fast food and I have such a sweet tooth, so I know this didn’t help with my diagnosis but I’m also a very picky eater (waiting for adhd diagnosis) so certain food and textures I can’t deal with.
This has been the hardest thing for me to adjust to, just struggling to restrain myself and know what to do and how much, I’m still yet to have the rest of my doctors appointments but I’m so overwhelmed already, I haven’t made it past day 4 without crying and I have felt more suicidal in the last 6 weeks than In my whole life. I am awaiting counselling to help me with this and I know there are worse things in the world to have but I just feel like I’m never going to get the hang of this, I’ll never settle into a routine or fully understand what’s going on and I just feel this immense pressure to stick to salads etc because if I don’t I feel guilty and breakdown and am worried people will think I don’t care about my health. I genuinely have no idea how I’m going to get through this. I have further consultations in July with my hospital where I’m sure I will learn more about the science of it but does anyone have any tips as I feel in a constant state of confusion, stress and exhaustion?
P.s I’m also yet to have my first Hypo and I’m terrified of it.

My wife Shanda is a nurse who has been fired from four hospitals for stealing and consuming patients prescribed narcotics. She has had her nursing license on probation 2 times. Addiction is only one of her flaws. She has been with her husband for 18 years, married for 11. In October of 2022 they went away for the weekend to celebrate their 11th wedding anniversary. After returning from their trip, Shanda wasted little time by starting an affair with a co-worker just 2 days later. She had laid the ground work for this affair before leaving town. This winner she cheated on her husband with, is 7 years older than her (50 years old). He is also married, actually been married 3 times. He is also a nurse. She confided or should I say spread lies to her coworker about her husband to gain sympathy and attention from him. She also told him all of her husbands business and secrets.
A little bit abour her husband. They have 3 children 17, 7 and 5 years old. Her husband workes 80 hours a week to ensure that Shanda could buy anything and everything she wanted. He loved her deeply, and tolerated everything she threw at him. Fast forward to 11/29/23. the affair had picked up steam, she spent less and less time at home and taking care of their children. She was 6 weeks in and played her wife role to ensure her husband did not suspect anything. A week prior, her husband was starting to notice weird things like changing passwords, less communication from her on a daily basis and she had become increasing guarded of her phone and spending more time than she ever have had on her social media accounts. Her husband finally had an opportunity on 11/29 when she left her phone upstairs and he grabbed it went straight to recently deleted messages and there they were 490 text messages that chronicled everything, the entire evolution of their affair. By the first week of November they were full blown sexting. She became enraged and assaulted him, saying she didn't love him anymore and didn't want to be with him. He was beyond hurt, he sacrificed his own happiness for years for her. December and January were brutual, she continued to cheat after telling him and the 17 year old daughter that she was sorry, used bad judgement and was going to focus on repairing their marriage. Her treatment of her husband was absolutely disgusting, she would assault him, broke his Imac twice, the 2nd time she hit him over the head with it. She's the one that caused all of this and she felt she had the right to take out her anger on him because he caught her. She had opened up 3 different snapchat accounts because this was her preferred way to communicate with her affair partner. Her husband had been documenting all of her violence and continued to stand by her hoping she would realize how her actions were destroying him and their children. Most of the arguing and fighting took place in front of the 7 and 5 year olds.
By January she was openly cheating in the face of her husband. January 23, 2023, her husband had found a way to have her text messages sent to his phone, that evening she gets home from work, he pours his heart out to her, begging her to stop her affair and recommit to her family. While he is doing this she is texting affair guy lies about her husband, he is telling her how much fun the day before with her was and how he is divorcing his wife and wants her to refinance his house with her, she responds with I need to make plans to leave him and spend the rest of my life with you. The whole time her husband is reading this exchange in real time, he puts his phone down but didn't close out the messaging app, Shanda notices this because the last text sent from her was a blowing kiss emoji. I forgot to mention that in the middle of January her husband got into her snapchat account and found a message from her to him where she proclaimed her love for him. In the beginning of January she was busted by her nurse probation case manager for failing a drug test which resulted in an addtional year tacked on to her probation and mandatory outpatient rehab for 30 days. Anyways after she noticed his phone she got pissed and chased him around the house trying to get his phone from him, grabbing his car keys to prevent him from leaving the house. He shouted for her to stop and not in front of the kids, put the kids to bed and i'll give you my phone he said, but she wouldn't stop. Finally, he grabbed her to get his key from her, he leaves she calls the cops, he is arrested and put in jail for domestic assault. She gets him out the next day, he notices that while he was in jail she spent most of her time on the phone with her affair friend. She tells her husband that she will go to court and not press charges, that was a lie, and on Feb. 3, 2023 she files for divorce telling her husband she was going to have the charges dropped, he knew she was lying because he put a gps tracker in her car and new she as at a divorce lawyers office. February she claimed to have ended her affair, but really it was her lawyer telling her to be more careful with her affair till this is over. Her husband, is devasted by this, but vows to get her to change her mind. she at one point tells him she will stop the divorce and another time says she will pause the divorce to attempt reconciliation. Both these times were straight lies. By this time she is telling her husband "why are you here? No one here cares about you".
She became very emotionally abusive after filing for divorce. So much so her husband contemplated taking his own life and actually staged an event to make it look like he was trying, that all backfired though. Then came March 29th, this was the anniversary of their first date, her husband comes home for work, he notices she has regular clothes on and not pajamas, she always changes into pajamas. She starts an argument on purpose for an excuse to leave and stay the night at her moms house. She leaves, he can't sleep at around 3:30am, he has a funny feeling, looks a her email and notices a hotel receipt from 12:21am that morning. He jumps in the car and races to the hotel, sure enough their is her car in the parking lot of a neighboring hotel and their is his car in the hotel parking lot that matches the reciept. Her husband calls the hotel and asks to be transferred to her room, no answer, he goes in the hotel and asks the front desk to try again, no answer, tries one more time. This time someone picks up but says nothing, he cries to her on the phone asking why? He returns to his car and now can tell what room they are in, he waits, 30 minutes later the punk ass 50 yr old walks out of the hotel and to his car, her husband just stares at him, he drives off. Hours later, she returns home packs a bunch of clothes and moves out to stay with her mom. 3 weeks later her husband has to appear in court for the charge, her divorce lawyer shows up and has the case prolonged for 2 more months. She appears to feel bad and returns home but says no affection or sex and she will let him know if she feels anything. Back up to her moving out, her affair friend started sending text messages to her husband threatening him and bringing up things only his wife knew about him, he crossed the line when the affair guy brought up his daughter's name. By this time it wasn't enough to for her to fuck another man and tell her how much she loves him, she had to mentally torment him and talk of their children to this low life piece of shit.
Now here we are in May, he tries to give her a good mother;s day and she insults him. Four days later, here comes the phone call from CPS. They interview all 3 children and Shanda and her husband, now this has gotten way out of hand, he plans to comply with CPS, Shanda has no plans to comply, that is where we are at right now. She is a cheating whore who never had the balls to tell her husband that she was unhappy before spreading her legs for someone else. She has mentally destroyed her husband and their kids, she never has shown a bit of remorse, she is looking for an apartment because their house will have to be sold because her husband cannot afford it by himself. The kids will have to lose their house and change schools. Her husband is in financial turmoil and he is on the verge of a nervous breakdown. She never put one ounce of energy into saving their marriage and has never apologized for the things she has done. Mediation is not scheduled till July 22nd, so this is far from over, who knows what the hell will happen next. This is a great example of how one person can destroy another persons life and makes you question if you even know your own wife. I will surely post updates as this seems to be far from over. I apologize for this post being in the 3rd person.

As the smoke clears it's revealed that both micheal and wagog are still standing, micheal is panting while wagog isn't visibly hurt and looks somewhat calm.
Micheal:shit this drained a lot of mana from me, I can't believe we are still standing.
Wagog:so can you tell me what you are.
Micheal:I'm a mage, mages are a secret species of humans who thanks to their biology can use magic, they are sometimes born with unnatural hair or eye colors.
Wagog:I'm going to be completely honest with you, your revenge plan sucks ass.
Micheal:now I think about it your right, I acted with my emotions instead of my brain, I made mindless impulsive decisions and I apologize for trying to have revenge in this strange way, let's call this a tie and go our separate ways.
Micheal then offer wagog a hand before wagog kicks him hard enough that he crashes into a building, as micheal gets up he sees wagog slowly approaching him.
Micheal:I offer you my friendship and you throw it in the dirt, well then die in your dirt, this is my last and most destructive spell.
Micheal shoots a beam of magic at wagog at light speed but wagog just eats it, no he literally just eats the beam, he walks with his mouth open as the beam enters his body like if it was curry, Micheal is shock but wagog finally closes the distance between them.
Wagog:I gotta say, your magic was pretty tasty, I think it even gave me a power boost, just look at this.
Wagog then karates chops Micheal's right shoulder off causing micheal to yell in pain before wagog punches him breaking his jaw, as micheal tries to cast a healing spell with his left arm it gets grabbed by wagog and then twisted before getting ripped out, micheal is screaming in pain before wagog cuts off his legs with a leg sweep.
Micheal is laying there limbless while screaming and crying in pain before wagog picks him up by his hoodie and brings him closer.
Wagog:well your magic started to annoy me it's definitely top 2 on my list of things that annoy me, also thanks for the snack.
Wagog then bites off Micheal's head off and throws his body away as it then starts to rain, wagog swallows the head and as he turns around he sees a mecha ninja.
Splitter:my name is splitter and I have come there for your bounty, I have watched your little fight with him and he also had a bounty on his head, well itya waste you killed him I was planning to swoop in when both of you were weakened, I'm not weak or cowardly it's just that some things you should let happen.
Then footsteps are heard and as splitter turns around it's the rest of the bang and Lord evil pushes him out of the way.
Lord evil:move robo bitch, go back to matrix.
Lord evil then walks up to wagog and looks him in the eyes.
Lord evil:listen here, next time some dingus breaks into our home you don't waste time toying with him, do you know how many villains lost because they didn't take their opponents seriously, you don't want to be in that group.
Splitter:well I'm going to go because I wasn't planning on fighting the whole bang at once but I will be back for the heads of all of you.
Splitter then walks away and as firewood throws a fireball at him he just slices through it and keeps walking.
In hell.
Michael was laying covered in hell ash as the demon sakata crouches.
Sakata:you have failed me vessel, our contract got broken, your body is not usable for me anymore so I will be taking my powers back and I still own your soul so you better behave.
Sakata then gets up and stomps on his Michael's face before spitting on it and walking away.
Sakata:worthless human trash.
After sakata walked away, Michael laid there for a while before a demon walked up to him and poked him with a stick.
Demon:you good?.
Michael:no, I had my trust betrayed and I have been killed, I don't even have my own soul, come closer there.
The demon squats down next to Michel before Michael grabs the demon be the neck and gets up as he chokes the demon until he takes the stick of the demon and he starts to bash the demon's head with it until it stopped moving.
Michael:well looks like I will have to get out of hell, it's a good thing I played doom.
Michael then looks around before he starts walking to fight for his freedom and get his soul back

USAgent and the USAvengers

Volume 4: Healing
Passover Special
Written by: u/DarkLordJurasus
Edited by: u/PresidentWerewolf
​
I look out at the highway, the sound of the radio blending into the noise of cars on asphalt. Up ahead is a sign for a rest stop in half a mile. For a moment, I debate not saying anything, merely shifting my aching leg to try letting it straighten and allow the car to continue forward. Walter is stressed enough as is; being trapped in New Jersey traffic will only make it worse.
I grab ahold of the front seat passenger chair, and attempt to shift my body to a more leaning position. I get one leg up before letting out a moan. Pain blossoms through my oblique muscles as I stop.
Hearing me, Walter asks, “Are you okay?”
Shifting back into the sitting position, I wave him off, “Yea, yea. I’m fine. Healing just sucks. Can we possibly stop soon? I need to stand up and walk off my soreness.”
Doug gives a curt nod, quickly putting on his right blinker to change lanes. Walter doesn’t immediately respond. For a moment, he is quiet, and then he says, “Listen, if you aren’t feeling up to the trip, it's okay. There is a Passover Seder hosted by a synagogue near our base, I can go there for the holidays.”
I quickly reply, “No, I’m fine. We calculated the time for a lot of stops and the doctor said as long as I walk around every hour to hour and a half, I should be fine.”
Trying to lighten the mood, Doug added on, “Yea. I was promised a chance to try your mom’s homemade macaroons. You aren’t taking that away from me.”
All Walter replied with was a hesitant, “Okay.”
It’s strange, Walter’s response. Well, his hesitation in general is weird. Is he worried to see his parents again? It would be the first time he saw them since becoming Stingray, but that isn’t it. His hesitation mostly comes around Doug and me coming. It can’t be him trying to keep us away from his Jewish identity. He’s the one who invited us, and he had never been shy about discussing his beliefs before.
I try to brush the thought from my mind. I don’t want to push Walter. If he is feeling so uncomfortable now, any attempt to figure out what he is thinking will only lead to him getting defensive. Instead, I just let it go, pretending I haven’t noticed his weird behavior, and listen to the news.
In business news, earlier today Tinkerer Technologies announced their initiative to begin making technology that will help protect private citizens from superhuman threats. This corresponded with a press statement by company founder Phineas Mason.
In the statement, Phineas wrote, “Tinkerer Technologies is not trying to disparage the technology being created on behest of the US government in regards to the danger superhumans may pose. It must be remembered that Tinkerer Technologies were the main industry working with the government on the USAvengers project and had a direct hand in both the Detroit Steel armor and the Modern American Initiative. The problem is, Sentinels and the USAvengers can only be part of the solution. A situation with a superhuman can turn volatile in a moment. We’ve seen this with both dangerous, violent criminals and innocents who lost control of their powers. As such, it is imperative that the average citizen has the tools to neutralize deadly situations as they wait for the police, a Sentinel, or the USAvengers to arrive.”
Walter turns off the radio at this, his back straight as a pencil. At the same time, he begins to pull into the parking lot of the rest stop. He parks the car in silence, the fact he turned off the radio not mentioned by anyone in the car. We all know why. The wording was polite, but the message behind Phineas’ words are clear: mutants are dangerous and should be feared.
As the car stops, Doug clears his throat and says, “I’m going inside to the bathroom and to grab an Iced Tea for the road. Anyone want anything?”
Walter responds, “I’m good.”
Doug merely looks at Walter for a moment, I can’t see his eyes, but I can only guess he was looking him over, worried about Walter’s behavior. After a moment, Doug nods and turns back to me, “You want anything?”
“Sure,” I reply, “Grab me a coffee.”
Getting out of the car, Doug double checks, “Two milk, one Splenda?”
I hum in the affirmative. Doug closes the door to the car and begins to walk towards the rest stop.
I move to leave the car myself, my hand unclasping the seatbelt from its holder. Taking a deep breath, Walter says, “Wait…I…we need to talk before you get out.”
I’m silent, unsure what to say or do in this situation. I’m worried, what’s going on? Why is Walter so nervous?
Walter’s hands drift from the steering wheel to his side, limp. “Two days ago my mom called me. Originally we thought my grandpa wasn’t coming to Passover. For as long as I knew him, he always flew to Israel for Passover specifically and celebrated the holiday with his sister’s family. Earlier last week his sister’s daughter called him to cancel. It seems that one of my cousins just had a preemie and Passover took a backseat as they are dealing with the surprise of having the child early.”
“Why is this a bad thing?” I ask.
Walter sighs, “It’s not, I love my grandpa, he’s great, he’s just, well he is so far liberal that we used to joke Bernie Sanders went to him for policy ideas. When I told him I wanted to go to a military college, he spent over a year trying to convince me otherwise. He even offered to pay for all 4 years of my college out of his own pocket just to stop me.”
Understanding sinks in; his grandfather is not going to like me, not in the slightest. The only thing I can say in response is, “Oh.”
Walter looks down, “Yea. He is probably going to challenge you. Mom said he promised to not make a scene, but to him, anything short of not punching you like he is Captain America punching Hitler is not making a scene.”
“Do you not want me to go?” I ask, trying to keep the nervousness out of my voice. I know Walter is still wary of me due to my usage of the M-slur, not that I could blame him. If I was him, I would have dropped me as a friend as soon as I got out of a coma. I don’t want to cause conflict, and I would understand if Walter doesn’t feel comfortable with me there, all things considered, but it would still hurt. I can currently only count three people as my friends, and with how badly I screwed up my friendship with Lemar, I hate the idea that my friendship with Walter is also irreparable.
“No.” Doug says quickly, almost too quickly, “It’s not like that. It’s just, I know you are planning to go to group therapy with Lemar to work out your issues, and I don’t want you to be placed into a situation where a stranger confronts you over your actions before you're ready for it. If you don’t feel up to being interrogated, then I can easily turn this car around and we can claim the flu or some other bullshit.”
I think about what Walter said. He’s not entirely wrong. While I know what I said is wrong, and I know that it was derogatory and discriminatory, I also know that I haven’t done enough to fix the issue. I’ve thought about that day often, my mind replaying the events over and over, but I haven’t verbalized much of it to others. I can play out the words I will say when questioned on it, but that means nothing when emotions run high. Wasn’t it during high emotions that I showed my true colors in the first place?
My hand is shaking, from my emotions or from the lack of movement, I’m not quite sure. I don’t think I can do this, I barely was coherent enough to discuss it with my friends, how can I try speaking about it in front of others? Would I try explaining it after I apologize, to further go into how I am trying to work harder in the future to change, or would that be considered justifying the behavior? For a moment, the thought of turning the car around sounds like the right choice. Walter is right, I’m not ready for a confrontation, I don’t think I’ll ever be ready.
And yet, I also know turning the car around is impossible. Ignoring how selfish it would be to Walter, the fact of the matter is that I can’t keep running from the backlash. I can’t keep pretending that the real world consequences to my actions will avoid me. I have to face the music.
“I want to go.” I manage to gasp out in a whisper. Instantly, I feel better and I feel worse. It feels like a weight has been lifted, like I’m no longer testing fate or Odin or anyone else who might exist, but at the same time, a new tension builds anticipation. This is not going to be fun, but it’s something I need to do.
—---------------------
Two days later, the three of us arrive at Walter’s parents’ house dressed up. Even from the other side of the door, I can easily hear the noises of children yelling and oven alarms going off. On my head is a yarmulke, a small brown cap. Walter did tell Doug and me that it was okay for us not to wear it, but if I’m being invited to celebrate someone’s culture and religion, I want to be as respectful as possible while doing so.
Walter knocks on the door and a young woman comes to the door. She looks younger than Walter, maybe in her mid to late thirties. She wears a dark blue dress with a silver Star of David necklace. Seeing David, she hugs him. “It’s good to see you. Mom was terrified when you disappeared and then showed up as a superhero.”
Blushing a bit, Walter responds, “You know I would have told you guys if I could.”
The girl smiles softly. “I know that, but try telling that to mom.”
Walter stops for a moment, his body freezing. “Fuck,” he says before running inside, calling for his mother.
Seeing Doug’s and my confusion, the girl explains, “There’s no more powerful force than a Jewish mother’s guilt, and for the stunt you guys pulled, well Walter is going to be reminded of that fact.”
Awkwardly I nod, my hands almost trapped at my side. It’s hard enough for me to lie to Lemar about why I disappeared for months on end; I didn’t even think of how hard it was for Walter to lie to his family.
Doug, either recovering from the awkwardness first or not having felt it in the first place, holds out his hand, “Hi, I’m Doug.”
Shaking his hand, the woman replies, “Detroit Steel right?” Not waiting for a response, she continues, “I’m Alli.”
My mind instantly clicks. This is Walter’s younger sister, the one who is a Social Studies teacher in Pennsylvania. Holding out my own hand, I say, “I’m John.”
Alli’s smile gets slightly tighter, her lips paling from tension, “Welcome to our house.” She turns around and quickly gestures for us to get inside. The fact she didn’t shake my hand isn’t lost on me, but if passive-aggressiveness is the worst of my treatment tonight, well, it would be more than I deserve.
Walking inside, we are on a small wooden platform, a single step to the left required to get to the downstairs, a staircase in front of us exiting into the living room. A young kid runs by and runs over my foot. I let out a small gasp as pain reverberates up my leg. I lean harder on my cane.
“Baruch Lavie Melamed! Apologize this instant.”
The young boy stops and stares at me. I feel tears welling in my eyes from the pain, but I try my best to keep my face clean. “Sorry for running over your foot.”
Trying to keep the pain from bleeding into my voice, I respond, “It’s fine.”
My voice must not have been as nonchalant as I hoped as both Alli and Baruch stay still for a moment before Alli nods and says, “Go back to playing.”
The kid's mouth splits in half with a smile and he runs off. Alli turns to me, her expression changed to one much softer, “Are you okay?”
I close my eyes for a minute, my leg pulsating. Opening them again, I wave her off, “Yea, barely even felt it.”
It’s obvious she does not believe me, her eyes frozen on my hunched over form. I mentally hold my breath; I don’t want her to come and help. I don’t need the pity, I can’t handle the pity. I’m goddamn USAgent, if she has to pity someone, I can show her hundreds of people who need it more. I’d rather she treat me with the disdained indifference of before, it's what I deserve after all.
Doug comes to my rescue, grabbing ahold of my elbow and saying, “It’s fine, I’m used to carrying his dead weight.” He says it with a slight chuckle, one that is so forced, it almost sounded like a cough.
Alli nods and begins to walk up the stairs. I go to follow, but Doug doesn’t move. In my ear, he whispers, “Listen, if you can’t handle this, we can go. I’ll drive you back to the hotel and pick up Walter later.”
I whisper back, “I’m good.”
Doug nods and begins to help me up the stairs, “Please don’t push yourself. The last thing we need is for you to backtrack.”
I give my own nod, wondering if Doug meant physically or mentally backtracking.
—-----------------------
An hour later, we are all gathered around a large table, prayer books in hand, as Walter and his family chant Hebrew and English. My book is open, and I attempt to make the same sounds coming out of everyone else’s mouths, but my heart isn’t in it. I’m too busy looking at the table through the corner of my eyes.
Once again, I have to wonder: how selfish am I truly? I knew Walter had a big family, unlike Doug and myself, but I never truly thought of how much he had to give up for the USAvengers. Sure, being in the military requires sacrifices, but the USAvengers is more. How many secrets has he had to keep from his loved ones? How does he feel knowing they can be at risk due to his role as government hero?
Glancing around the table, my eyes freeze at an older man. He wears a full black suit with a dark blue yarmulke and a white scarf like object that Alli told me earlier was a tallit. His eyes meet mine, the dark brown pupils dilating, the same glare he has been giving me all night reappearing.
I learned that he is the grandpa, Benjamin Newell, and while silent towards me, his disgust is extremely evident. I don’t fault him though. Walter explained to me last night that his brother and parents died in the Holocaust, and that since then, his grandfather has fought against injustice and bigotry.
I attempt to stare down at the book, but it is too late as Benjamin clears his throat, his eyes never leaving mine.
The prayer, I believe it is called the Four Questions, is stopped as everyone turns to look at him. He closes his book and puts it down, his movement demanding a presence.
“Well,” he says slowly, spit pooling in the corners of the mouth, “I’m done ignoring the elephant in the room.”
Walter’s mom, Leia Newell, is quick to admonish her father, but he cuts her off, “No. If one breaks bread with a Nazi, they are a Nazi. I’m not breaking matzah with a bigot, especially not during a sacred holiday.”
I nod my head, “I understand that.” All the desire I had to explain or justify myself disappears immediately as I realize how wrong it would be to do so here. This isn’t a family dinner, this is a holiday, and I, an outsider, am harming it by making others uncomfortable. There are times and places to make a stand, but today is not one of them.
I turn to Leia and say, “Thank you for inviting me.”
I grab my cane and Doug gets up, supporting me by my elbow. Benjamin scoffs, “Look at him, another bigot who can’t deal with conflict. Go back to hurting the innocent.”
Walter gets up also, his chair scratching against the wooden floor, “I knew this was a bad idea. I knew that you wouldn’t give John a chance to show that he is working to be better. I just thought you would do it before or after we eat, not ruin dinner in the process.”
Benjamin laughs, “I’m sorry Walter, I know he is your friend, and I respect that, but cut the crap about him trying to be better. If he was trying, he would stop sullying the legacy of Captain America and quit. Captain America was a man who had the first segregated battalion. Captain America came and prayed at synagogues all throughout the country in protest when America forced Jewish refugees back to Germany. Your friend runs when someone points out his bigotry.”
I stop walking and turn around, the movement so fast that my cane hits my leg in the process. I’m tired of being compared to Steve fucking Rogers, the man with the goddamn plan. I’m tired of seeing him in my dreams, admonishing me, I’m tired of living in his shadows.
“You’re right.” I say, my eyes meeting his, “I’m not Captain America, there will never be another Captain America. I’m not the perfect representation of the dream of an united America, I’m a flawed human being.”
“So quit.” Benjamin replies.
This time I laugh, a bitter taste on my tongue, “You think that will fix anything? The USAvengers project is too expensive to fail, and I can assure you, the next guy will be much worse to supers than I can ever dream of being. Kelly’s support and power has only grown since the Power Broker appeared, and there is no chance in hell that he won’t be picking the next USAgent. At least I’m trying to get past my biases and prejudices, I can assure you the next guy won’t put in the same effort.”
“If you are trying to be better, why run with your tail behind your legs? Explain that, talk to us, running is for cowards who can’t take living in the real world.”
Looking down, I say, “I was trying to not ruin your dinner.”
Benjamin responds, “Well, according to this one,” he points his finger at Walter, “I already did so, so you might as well explain yourself.”
I nod and say, “I’m scared. Mutants, superhumans, they can do things no one else can, and I wouldn’t be able to stop them. I’d be defenseless, and that terrifies me. I know logically it is unfair, that very few superhumans are powerful enough to kill others with no effort, and out of that small population, even fewer are violent, but the heart often doesn’t listen to the mind. I was at ground zero for Ultron, and I saw the strength and brutality of both superhumans, and the foes they fight, and despite my military training, I was unable to do anything.”
Benjamin opens his mouth to respond, but I continue, “Me saying a slur, it was a long time coming, I just refused to see it. I hid my fear of supers, refusing to talk about the Avengers or vigilantes like Spider-Man before I became USAgent. I told myself this was due to my anger at not being helped during the Ultron Incident, and that was definitely part of it, but that fear was there all along. Then I became USAgent, I thought my fear would disappear, I would be able to defend myself and others, but then the dinosaurs attacked New York. I almost died on three occasions, and yet I saw the supers I fought with kill and slaughter the dinosaurs like they were tissue paper. I was already close to a panic attack upon realizing my friends were probably turned into dinosaurs, but the realization, that despite everything, I’m still too weak to protect myself and those I care about, well it broke me, and a disgusting and dark part of myself, a part of myself I hope I never see again, came out.”
Benjamin eyes me up and down before saying, “Fear does not justify bigotry.”
“I know.” I respond softly.
He continues, “What you did is despicable.”
“I agree.” I say.
He leans forward, “Most people don’t get second chances, and very few deserve a third chance. Do you understand that?”
I shake my head, “I do. I won’t let you, or my friends down.”
Sitting back in his seat, he smiles, “Well then, sit down, the soup is getting cold and I want to eat before midnight.”

My father passed away last month at the age of 60. Although he had a number of illnesses, with one being from a young age, his death was unexpected. This is incredibly hard to come to terms with as I expect anyone on this subreddit would appreciate. Reading posts of some people on here who have lost loved ones at a young age or in terrible circumstances puts my loss in perspective but its still no less raw or devastating. I read a eulogy at my fathers funeral which I'm going to add below. It's long and most people won't read it but I just want to tell as many people as possible how amazing my father was. I have omitted any names from the eulogy and replaced with NAME. I will say though my dads name was Mark and I hope anyone who reads this sees how incredible he was.
Thank you all for coming.
My Dad was the person I looked up to the most, especially the older I got where I grew to appreciate the incredible man he was and how he lived his life. He had things very hard from a young age with multiple conditions, but he never let that define him. He appreciated the good things in his life, and not once did I ever hear him dwell on the bad that happened to him, his attitude was always to enjoy what he could surrounded by the people he loved for as long as he could no matter what was thrown his way. My dad possessed many qualities which include being kind, thoughtful, funny, loving and he is the strongest person mentally I’ve ever met and I’m proud and fortunate that he was my dad. The challenge to show those qualities became harder especially in the last few years but he never stopped living and being the man he always was, laughing, joking, and enjoying himself around his family.
His sense of humour was witty and dark, and he loved to wind people up, especially my mum. Even in his final hours he had his sense of humour. He was lying in bed that morning and he had a remote to move the bed into different positions. My mum heard him call her, so she went in and the remote was on the floor. My dad said sorry NAME can you pick it up, so she did. 10 minutes later she heard my dad call her again, so she went back in, the remote was on the floor again this time my dad had a grin on his face, my mum picked it up and gave it to him and warned him not to drop it again. He did of course drop it again and my mum saw a big smile on his face like he always had as she came back in. She knew he was winding her up and was smiling as well and I’m sure my dad thought about doing it again, but he knew one more time and it would be wrapped around his neck.
Two of my oldest memories I have of my dad are of stories he liked to tell because he found them funny to talk about over the years and I know he would like me to mention them. I don’t know whether it’s a coincidence they both involve alcohol, but he was a SURNAME so of course he enjoyed a drink.
The first is when I was around 5 and my dad and I were watching tv and he was enjoying a glass of whiskey. He went out to go to the bathroom and I seized my opportunity, grabbed the whiskey, and had a swig. My Dad came back into the room with me screaming it burns it burns pointing at the glass. My dad knew what needed to be done and rushed into action grabbing a can of lager and having me drink some to get rid of the whiskey taste. It did work to be fair and when I was older, I hated whiskey and enjoyed lager, which explains a lot.
The second story I want to share is another from when I was young. My dad would always go out drinking with his brothers NAME and NAME on boxing day. It was usually a nice casual drink and a chance for them to spend time together. However, on this occasion my dad got very drunk. So drunk his brothers had to carry him home which was an incredible feat by itself as he was not a small man. What was even more impressive is they managed to get him home but avoid my mum. They achieved this by leaving him sitting by the bins outside and knocking the door and running off. I don’t blame them, and I think it was a very smart move. However, what they didn’t expect was my dad to get up and manage to fall inside the bin. That was the sight that greeted my mum.
My dad was a great father to me and my sister NAME. He was limited physically in some of the things he could do with us but he more than made up for it in other ways and he was always there for us when we needed him. The only thing my father got wrong when NAME and I were growing up in my opinion is he should have been a bit harsher on NAME. She was always terrorizing me, and I was always calm and never did anything to instigate things, but she couldn’t be stopped. I think my father showed a bit of favouritism there.
At Christmas and other occasions, he enjoyed having everyone around and eating, drinking, playing games and having fun. Trivial pursuit was something he always wanted to play, probably because he would often win. He would always play as the blue counter, his favourite colour and if my nan was there which she usually was she would go on his team as she knew he would get everything right and she could sit back and sip her dissarano. I’m sorry nan but I really don’t think your going to win many games in future.
A memory of Christmas that sticks out is when we were playing a golf game on the Nintendo wii and it was my dads go. He was very competitive and put a lot of effort into his swing as he had to make up for the fact, he was playing sitting down. On this occasion he tried a bit too hard and also forgot to tighten the strap causing the wii remote to go flying off his wrist and straight into the tv destroying the screen. I will never forget the look on his face, a combination of shock and disbelief.
My dad also enjoyed playing real golf, many times with me and his son in law NAME but always with his mum. He caught the golf bug later in life but would play almost every week, sometimes twice a week for the part of the year they could use a buggy on the course. His father also used to go with them to drive the buggy and the sight of it all on the course was terrifying for others playing. A typical sight would be his father with his sunglasses on no matter the weather, driving the buggy with my dad in front and my nan sitting at the back trying to hold on as his father drove way to fast hitting every bump he could find and just about staying upright. He would then drop them off next to their drive which had gone maybe 50 yards at most, which considering their limitations wasn’t bad. They would play their shots with his father laughing hysterically and taunting them from the buggy as their balls went another 50 yards. To just be on the golf course playing with the pain my father was in and the limitations he had was an inspiration to me. He didn’t care what anyone else thought as he was doing what he enjoyed.
There are many more memories I could talk about and many more things he enjoyed doing but we’ll be here hours if I go into everything, and nobody wants that including me. NAME will go into more of my dad’s hobbies and life later, but I hope what the memories I’ve talked about show is how my dad loved being around his family and always lived life to the fullest. I wish we had more years with him, but I can say with confidence that he was happy and content that he had an excellent life.
There are a few milestones I want to talk about that I know would be important to my dad.
My Mum and Dad met working in a bakery. The day he got married to my mum I know he would have felt so lucky to have found someone he loved and could spend his life with or as my nan put it when preparing for today, he married the best tart in the bakery. They were always there for each other, and I know my dad would have very much appreciated the emotional support she gave him especially the last few years. It wasn’t easy for her either dealing with my dad’s illness but I’m so proud of my mum and dad for how they dealt with everything. Susan and I could not have wished for better parents.
The day my sister NAME and I were both born but especially me were big moments for my dad and changed his life forever, hopefully for the better but maybe not always. Also, important moments were when his Grandchildren NAME and NAME were born who may not know how lucky they are to have had my dad around for the time they did but they will when they are older as they look back to Grampys example and guidance.
My dad was so happy that NAME and I had both found what he had with my mum. For NAME it was NAME and for me it was NAME. NAME and I have chosen the easier option of having dogs rather than children which my dad, despite saying he never wanted a dog around or had any interest in them ended up loving having both NAME and NAME around. He would play with them despite it being hard for him and enjoyed taunting them with toys and chews and they would taunt him back by leaving things just out of reach for him.
The day my sister NAME and NAME got married was an emotional and wonderful day for my dad. Getting to walk his daughter down the aisle was a happy and proud moment for him. we didn’t know if he’d be able to do it beforehand, but he wasn’t going to miss the chance, so he got through it as he always did. My dad was not known for speaking in large crowds or being confident at it, in fact it was the opposite. However, the speech he gave at NAME wedding was incredible, funny, emotional, and memorable. He spoke from the heart without anything prepared and I am so proud he not only got through it but delivered an unforgettable speech.
There was never any pressure put on me or NAME. The only thing he wanted for us was to be happy and if we were happy that was ok for him.
I want to finish by sharing what some of his closest family wanted me to say on their behalf. This is their words read out by me.
His Wife NAME says, Mark was the love of my life, my soulmate with so many happy years together. Those years were rich with happy memories with our family. No more pain and suffering now my darling, rest now. My everlasting love always.
His daughter NAME says, I could not have asked for a better dad. You were always supportive and patient in everything I did. Your Grandchildren NAME and NAME will remember you as wise and funny, you always took an interest in what they liked. I will miss you incredibly, but you will forever be in my heart.
His Mother NAME says, Words cannot say how much I will miss you. I get comfort that you are not in any pain now. Sleep my darling until we are together again.
His brother NAME says, I will love and miss you always, brother.
His Brother NAME says, Dear Brother I will start by saying at least you are now at peace and pain free. You will be deeply missed by us all, after all you were the diplomatic one of the family. Mark was the most patient and calm member of us all and nothing was any bother for him to do. Love you Mark God bless you and thank you for being my brother, Love NAME.
His Son in law NAME says, thank you for welcoming me into your family with nothing but love and kindness. We shared a love for formula 1 and I’ll think of you whenever I’m watching a race.
His Niece NAME says, Uncle Mark was always kind and caring to me and you could tell how much he loved his family. Whenever I visited and complained about something he always found a way to spin it in a positive light and give me a new perspective. My last memory is of him in his chair putting his jumper on which got stuck after his arms were through. He made me jump because I thought he was headless and gave us all a good laugh. I feel lucky to have had him as an uncle.
Finally, for me he was my hero. I owe him everything. I couldn’t have wished for a better man to look up to and learn from. My respect for how he lived his life despite the challenges he faced is immeasurable. He never complained, never worried, never gave up, he lived his life to the maximum he could, doing the things he enjoyed around the people he loved right until the very end.
Dad I’m going to miss you beyond words and its going to be hard, but I will draw from what you taught me and live my life the best I can. It is said that a person is never truly gone as long as they are still talked about. Well, the impact You had on those around you means stories of you will be passed down for generations. The memories I have of you will stay in my head and the love and respect I have for you will remain in my heart forever.

First let me say that English isn‘t my first language so this might be full of mistakes + I‘m writing this on my mobile phone. Also, this might be a longer post, so buckle up.
Well, last sunday my younger brother‘s best friend died in a motor cycle accident very unexpectedly. For the past week I‘ve been trying to wrap my head around this thought but when we were finally able to see him laid out, realisation hit and it hit hard for us all. He was 22 years old and just too young to die. Our friendgroup would usually hang out at his house, since it was right about the center of where everyone lived and he had like the most chill parents, so we were very close with his family too.
His girlfriend was driving about 100 meters behind him in a car and barely witnessed what happened. She‘s been a wreck since but is getting better thanks to professional help. My brother is handling it amazing, even though I can see how hurt and sad he is, he‘s been the glue holding everything together, being there for the late friends parents aswell as his sisters. The rest of the friendgroup, a group of now 11 remaining friends has gradually accepted the death. Everyone is coping differently, but most have been together for the most part of last week. For me he was like a litte brother. Since I now live about an hour away and had no way to travel, I haven‘t had time to be there with my friends and grieve up until the laying out on thursday. I was at the funeral service again with another mutual friend today and had some time alone to tell him what I should have told him when he was alive, thanked him for every moment we had together and said goodbye a last time before his funeral next friday. This is the last time I will see him and even though it breaks my heart, I was able to make my peace and accept it. It‘s hard to get to work knowing that the world is still spinning and live goes on, but we have to keep going for his sake.
I am so thankful for having had the privilege and honor to call you my friend and brother. You were the best of us all and you went too early. You showed us how to enjoy the small things in life and how to achieve the big things. You are our idol and we will miss you forever. But don‘t worry, we will take care of your parents, your sisters and your loved ones, as long as we live. For that you may rest in peace until we are all united again brother. Rip

I (28F) went on a trip with my friend “Allie” (26F) a month or two ago. I drove the entire trip because the car was in my name.
The other night, Allie and I were going to dinner back home and she goes “yeah, remember that dude lying on the side of the road when we were on our trip?!” I was like, “… no? What guy?”
Allie says, “when you were merging on the interstate, there was a guy lying on the side of the road with his pants down, face down. You didn’t see him?!”
I said, “no?! Why didn’t you say something?!? We should’ve called 911!!”
Allie says, “well, I thought you saw him… but I guess he was on my side of the car and you were trying to drive…”
I kept prying for questions like, “what did he look like? Do you think he was alive? What on-ramp?!”
Allie kept reiterating that she had no idea… she just knows he was face down with his pants down around his ankles, not moving.
I started freaking out a bit, “why didn’t you call the police?! Why didn’t you tell me?! What if he needed help??????”
Allie then told me “jeeze, you’re making me feel bad…”
And I said, “You saw a body on the side of the road and you did absolutely nothing…??”
She says, “well, I guess I’m not a Good Samaritan… but also, women get killed by getting out of their cars.”
I reiterated, “we could have called the police! We don’t need to get out and help! we could’ve called 911!”
She kept saying I was making her feel bad. But, I was trying to process everything. And I was SO weird how calmly she was talking about it meanwhile I was freaking out!
The rest of the night was super awkward and toward the end I told Allie that I was really rocked by this whole thing. And I’m really questioning her morals, as someone who is my friend. I asked her how on earth she could, in good conscious, say absolutely nothing to me about a body on the side of the road and not think about calling for help. I’ve got family that’s struggled with addiction and the thought of that being my uncle or cousin or nephew… I was so upset with her. (And shoot, maybe it had nothing to do with drugs…)
I told her that I needed to take a step back and take some space from our friendship while I process this.
She told me I was overreacting and it wasn’t a big deal. She said I needed to chill and stop getting so bent out of shape about some guy who was probably just passed out from drugs. She thinks I’m being purposely mean and trying to make her feel bad when it genuinely didn’t cross her mind to report the body to the police.
AITA? Am I really being petty for this?
Edit: I’ll add, she kept saying “there were other people on the road, I’m sure one of them called”
But again, I’m more concerned about her lack of empathy or concern of the situation. She saw this man and thought absolutely nothing of it. Not, is he okay? Should I tell OP? Should I call the police? Nothing. Then, was almost laughing about it later as if it was funny/disturbing.

As you all know, we have no object permanence. Once something is out of sight, it now longer exists.
My husband does not understand this, no matter how many times I tell him to not move my things, he "puts them away"
So I stopped at J Dawgs the other day, got 2 polish dogs for then and the 6 pack of cook your own. My intention was to package them into smaller portions and throw them in the freezer, both buns and dogs. Also note I have chronic fatigue syndrome, so once I got home I didn't have the energy to deal with them. I put the buns on the table, and was not going to move them until I dealt with it.
Well, they disappeared from the table and thus existence, until today. I thought I am going to go cook one of those and take care of the rest.
Well my friends the buns were moldy. I am pissed at both myself and my husband. I cried because A. I am hungry. B. I feel stupid to have paid the ADHD tax again. C. I don't know how many times I've asked him not to move things, and he continues to do so. D. I have crap emotional regulation skills.
I am sure many of you relate. Now I'm mad, sad, and hungry.

Lore

When he first came to the mortal world, he had no form, and was nothing more than a mass of flesh; he hid himself away from the humans and burrowed deep underground beneath Noxus.
As time passed, he began to feel his hunger grow more insatiable and he was eventually forced to crawl out from underground to feed, slinking through the darkness and shadows to fight the perfect prey.
During the dark of the night he found a lone man exit a tavern and begin staggering his way home down the empty streets, and something about him made the demon's hunger go wild; when he stopped to relieve himself in an empty ally way he snuck up behind him and quickly enveloped him, wrapping his formless body around him and devouring him.
With the man's body added to his own he began to go through a sort of metamorphosis, his body began to gain form; long and gaunt legs and arms, a body that malnourished, and a head with a face that looked eerily like that of the man he consumed, but with the harrowing lack of eyes and nose.
Before he could become accustomed to his new form he smelt something from across the city, a scent similar to his first victim; he followed it and was eventually lead to another man, a soldier that was still dressed in his armor.
He didn't sneak up on him this time, and instead approached him with confidence as his hunger began to grow again; the guard spotted him, and horrified by his appearance he drew his sword and pointed it at him, demanding him to stay back.
Psevdis quietly laughed, and out of what felt like instinct he began to sing a deep harrowing melody, and for some unknown reason, the man lowered and sheathed his sword, as if he had just forgot about him.
When he was close enough, he stopped singing and the guard turned to him, screaming loudly in sheer horror for a mere moment before Psevdis opened his mouth, his neck extending above the soldier, and bit down on him, crushing and breaking through his collarbone as he tore off his head and neck, devouring it before quickly consuming the rest of his body.
When he finished, he went through another metamorphosis as his body grew larger and a second head and neck grew in place of his right arm; as he examined his new form another man came from around the corner, dressed in a black cloak and wielding a lantern who's light shown with him just out of it's reach.
He called out, demanding to know who was there, and claiming he was armed and unafraid, and with that, Psevdis' hunger flared up again and he finally discovered what it was that brought it upon him; the lies and deceit of others.
He started singing his harrowing song again as he approached the man, stopping when he was close enough and quickly devoured him as well, sprouting a third head in place of his left arm; he took the cloak the man was once wearing and dressed himself with it so he could hide in plain sight and wonder the world, sniffing out and hunting down the Liars of Runeterra so he could feed upon them without needing to wait for them to come to him.

Stats

Fighter / Assassin

• Health: 590 - 2120 ^{+90 P/L}
  
• Mana: 360 - 1210 ^{+50 P/L}
  
• Attack Damage: 63 - 131 ^{+4 P/L}
  
• Movement Speed: 350 UpS
  
• Attack Speed: 0.686 - 1.00 ^{+2.75% P/L}
  
• Health Regen: 5 - 39 ^{+2 P/L}
  
• Mana Regen: 10 - 44 ^{+2 P/L}
  
• Armor: 40 - 74 ^{+2 P/L}
  
• Magic Resist: 35 - 56.25 ^{+1.25 P/L}
  
• Attack Type: Melee
  
• Attack Range: 250 Units
  

Abilities

P Flesh to Flesh

When ever Psevdis executes an enemy champion he'll devour them and add their flesh to his own, increasing his size by 5% and his attack range by 10 units as well as heal himself for 5% - 15% (+0.002% Bonus Health) of their Maximum Health

• Every 5 kills causes him to sprout an additional head, allowing him to cast Harrow Maw and Unending Reach an additional time within 5 seconds before the ability goes on Cool Down

Killing Large Minions and Large and Small monsters restores 1% (+0.0002% Bonus Health) of Psevdis Maximum Health while Epic Monsters Restore 5% (+0.002% Bonus Health) of his Maximum Health

• Health Restored (Champion): 5% Target Maximum Health (+5% at levels 7 / 13)

Q Harrowed Maw

Passive
If Harrowed Maw kills an enemy champion while not holding a Minion or Neutral Monster, Psevdis will devour them, permanently increasing his AD by 1% and increasing the ranges of Harrowed Maw and Unending Reach by 50 Units
Active
Psevdis extends his arm forwards from beneath his cloak, revealing the disfigured head at the end of it as he strikes enemies in front of him

• If he strikes an enemy Minion or Small Monster he'll devour it, holding it in the mouth of the head for up to 8 seconds
  
• • If he strikes an enemy with Harrowed Maw while holding a Minion or monster, he'll deal 50 - 150 (+80% AD) Physical Damage, knock them back 200 units and stun them for 0.5 Seconds
• • When he reals his arm back he can recast Harrowed Maws to throw the Minion or Monster in a straight line, dealing 75 - 275 (+110% Bonus AD) Physical Damage to the first Enemy Champion and all non-champion enemies it hits
• If he strikes an enemy Champion without hitting a Minion or Small Monster, he'll bite them, dealing 100 - 300 (+90% AD) Physical Damage
  

Thrown Minions and Monsters can not pass through Terrain

• Cast Time: 0.5 Seconds
  
• Cast Duration (Arm): 1.25 Seconds
  
• Projectile Range (Arm): 800 / 150 Units
  
• Projectile Speed (Arm): 700 UpS
  
• Projectile Range (Minion / Monster): 700 / 150 Units
  
• Project Speed (Minion / monster): 1000 UpS
  
• Cost: 60 Mana (+10 P/R)
  
• Cool Down: 15 Seconds
  
• Physical Damage (Strike): 50 (+25 P/R)
  
• Physical Damage (Bite): 100 (+50 P/R)
  
• Physical Damage (Throw): 75 (+50 P/R)
  

W Unending Reach

Psevdis raises his two heads and slams them down, striking enemies in front of him dealing 25 - 125 (+90% AD) Physical Damage

• For the next 8 seconds afterwards his Basic Attacks will gain an additional 200 Units of Attack Range and will strike a second time as well as an additional time for each head he's gained from Flesh to Flesh, he'll also gain 20% Bonus Attack Speed which stacks every time he uses Unending Reach

His additional attacks against Minions and jungle monsters instead deals 100% of his AD as Physical Damage

• Cast Time: 0.75 Seconds
  
• Effect Range: 400 / 150 Units
  
• Cost: 70 Mana
  
• Cool Down: 15 Seconds
  
• Physical Damage: 25 (+25 P/R)
  
• Second Attack Damage Scaling: 20% AD (+10% P/R)
  

E Forget Me Not

Psevdis begins singing a harrowing melody that alters the minds of enemies that hear it

• While singing, enemies will forget about him, causing him to become invisible and untargetable to them while they're facing away

If Psevdis casts another ability, his ultimate, or if he Basic Attacks while Forget Me Not is active, he'll pause its effects, becoming visible to enemies that aren't facing him for 2 seconds
Pesvdis can not be seen by wards of any type while Forget Me Not is Active

• Cast Time: 1.5 Seconds
  
• Effect Range: 600 Units (+100 P/R)
  
• Cost: 5% Maximum Mana P/Second (-1% P/R)
  

R As above, So Below

Psevdis digs his arms into the ground and extends them to a targeted location over 2 seconds, once they arrive they burst forth, knocking up enemies they strike for 1.25 seconds and dealing 150 - 450 (+80% AD) Physical Damage

• Afterwards, he'll grab hold of every enemy he knocked up and drag them under, removing them from the map for 1 second as he brings them back to himself

The location that Psevdis' arms will emerge from becomes visible to enemies 1 second before they fully emerge

• Cast Time: 1.5 Seconds
  
• Cast Duration: 5.75 Seconds
  
• Cast Range: 800 Units
  
• Effect Radius: 175 Units
  
• Cost: 100 Mana
  
• Cool Down: 160 Seconds (-35 P/R)
  
• Physical Damage: 150 (+150 P/R)
  

The Somnpugilist

I'm a single mother and I was working nights as a parking meter attendant while trying to provide for my teenage son, Ethan. It wasn't easy, but I had no choice. One thing that always bothered me was the toll my work took on our time together. I hardly saw him during the nights, but I trusted he would take care of himself while I was away.
One morning, as I returned home from work, I noticed Ethan sitting at the kitchen table, his eyes heavy with sleep. It seemed odd since it was still early in the morning. I brushed it off, thinking he must have had a restless night. But as the days passed, I began to notice more peculiarities. Ethan became increasingly irritable, forgetful, and exhibited strange behavior associated with severe sleep deprivation.
One night, when I accidentally walked in on him stepping out of the shower, I couldn't help but notice the numerous bruises covering his body. My heart skipped a beat, and fear gripped me. How did he get those bruises? What was happening to him?
The following morning, I found him with a bruised face, his eye blackened and his lip swollen. Panic surged through me as I realized something was seriously wrong. I rushed him to a doctor, hoping for answers, but all medical tests showed no signs of physical ailments. The doctor suggested it could be psychological and recommended a counselor.
Desperate for answers, I reached out to my brother, Detective Mark Collins, who was also Ethan's uncle. Mark promised to investigate and provide any help he could. As a detective, he had the means to delve into matters that others couldn't.
A few days later, while Ethan was at school, I received an unexpected visit from Mark. He looked weary and troubled. Without wasting a moment, he sat me down and informed me of the troubling developments. Other worried parents had been reporting similar cases of their sons disappearing at night, only to return home battered and bruised.
Mark had taken charge and started a dedicated investigation into the matter. He revealed that he had been working tirelessly for a whole week, following leads, interviewing witnesses, and searching for any clues. However, despite his efforts, he admitted that he had made absolutely no progress. The cases were shrouded in mystery, leaving him frustrated and filled with a sense of helplessness.
The weight of the situation settled heavily upon me. It wasn't just Ethan. There were other families going through the same ordeal, and no one had answers. The fear and anxiety grew stronger within me as the realization sank in that our struggle was far from over.
I thanked Mark for his dedication and his relentless pursuit of the truth. As he left, we exchanged a knowing glance, silently promising to continue the fight together.
Days turned into sleepless nights as I anxiously awaited any updates from Mark's investigation. Meanwhile, I juggled work, trying to maintain a sense of normalcy for Ethan. But the underlying fear and uncertainty gnawed at my every thought.
One thing became clear—we were running out of time. The nights stretched on, each one bringing new nightmares and unexplained bruises on Ethan's body. I couldn't bear to see him suffer, and I knew that I had to be his protector, his shield against the darkness that threatened to consume him.
With every passing day, the sense of urgency grew stronger. We had to uncover the truth, find the source of this malevolent force that tormented our children. When the police put the investigation on hold - however - I was left with the fears from the beginning.
Frustrated and worried, I took time off work and stayed home, determined to uncover the truth. I kept a watchful eye on Ethan, making sure he didn't wander off during his sleepwalking episodes. One night, I followed him discreetly as he made his way to an abandoned house in our neighborhood.
My heart pounded in my chest as I peered through a crack in the wall and witnessed a chilling sight. Ethan stood among a group of other teenage boys, their eyes closed, their bodies moving with unnatural precision. As if puppets under someone's control, they began to fight, mercilessly punching and assaulting each other.
Fear overwhelmed me, but I knew I had to act. I called Mark, my brother and the detective, pleading for immediate help. By the time he arrived at the abandoned house, dawn was breaking, and the boys had dispersed, returning to their homes, leaving behind a trail of unconsciousness and injuries.
Realizing that no one else could protect Ethan but me, I made the difficult decision to quit my job and find new employment during the day. I couldn't risk leaving him alone anymore. I feared the unknown force that controlled those boys in their sleep, and I knew it was only a matter of time before it would come for my son again.
As the days turned into weeks, my desperation grew. I sought guidance from every possible avenue, determined to find answers and protect my son from the relentless onslaught of the somnpugilist. It was during one of my counseling sessions that a breakthrough, albeit a terrifying one, occurred.
The counselor, Dr. Simmons, had been tirelessly studying Ethan's case, and after numerous discussions and examinations, they finally approached me with a chilling revelation. Dr. Simmons explained that they had been consulting with experts in the field of sleep disorders and unearthed a disturbing theory.
With a serious expression etched across their face, Dr. Simmons told me, "Based on all the evidence we've gathered, the peculiar symptoms, the sleepwalking episodes, and the pattern of physical injuries, we believe your son is a victim of a rare and malevolent phenomenon known as the somnpugilist."
I had never heard of such a term, and the counselor continued to enlighten me. They described the somnpugilist as a mysterious entity or force that thrived on the vulnerability of sleep-deprived individuals, manipulating their subconscious minds to engage in brutal and uncontrolled acts of violence.
My heart sank as the weight of this revelation settled upon me. The realization that Ethan was not only a victim of his own body's betrayal but also a target of something otherworldly sent shivers down my spine. It was as if we were caught in a nightmare from which there was no escape.
Dr. Simmons assured me that they would continue researching possible remedies and solutions. However, their tone revealed a hint of helplessness, as if they too were grappling with the enigma that was the somnpugilist.
The knowledge that my son was being tormented by a malevolent force beyond our comprehension both terrified and galvanized me. I resolved to do everything in my power to protect Ethan, to shield him from the clutches of this insidious entity that sought to destroy him.
Together with Detective Mark Collins, we delved deeper into the lore surrounding the somnpugilist, seeking ancient texts and obscure references that might hold the key to its defeat. Each day brought us closer to understanding this dark force and formulating a plan to combat it.
The battle against the somnpugilist was far from over. We faced sleepless nights, relentless assaults on our sanity, and the fear that time was slipping through our fingers. But armed with newfound knowledge and unwavering determination, we pressed forward, ready to confront the somnpugilist head-on.
Now, I work at a small diner, my shifts aligned with Ethan's school hours. I rarely let him out of my sight, and I remain vigilant, constantly on guard. But deep down, I know that this battle against the somnpugilist, the sleep-fighter, can only last for so long. Darkness lingers, and the fear of the unknown looms, threatening to consume us both. With Mark's determination as both detective and uncle, we cling to hope, determined to unravel the mysterious and sinister forces that haunt our lives.
For Ethan's sake, for the sake of all the boys caught in this nocturnal nightmare, we would not rest until we unraveled the secrets of the somnpugilist and put an end to its reign of terror. Our journey would be treacherous, but the love of a mother, the devotion of an uncle, and the strength of our united front would serve as our guiding light through the darkest of nights.

What do I do.
My gf slept round my house last night. I could not sleep and it wasn’t until 2am I decided that I was going to just look on her phone as I’ve had trust issues from a past relationship and I’ve found texts from a boy where she allowed him to flirt with her but she didn’t flirt back, and so I obviously like an idiot went looking. We have been dating since January 2nd 2023, so coming up 5 months. Everything was normal, just her usual friends who I know (some boys) until I found this guy we will call Jarret. I had never seen him before and so I was curious. I went on and from just before we started seriously talking in September of 2022 to about 3 months ago so a month or so into the relationship she had been sending nudes to him. The majority of the full nudes were from before we were dating but like a week before I asked her out. In the relationship she said that she had only sent one full nude as I saw the rest were just thong pics or her arse in nike pros. I started shaking and my heart sank. She woke up from my shaking and asked me what’s wrong and I just stared blankly for a few minutes until I asked her who Jarret is. She then explained how she sent him nudes before she new me and ever since he has used it against her by saying if she doesn’t send more he will leak them. She told me she was planning to tell me soon but it was taking her time as she was scared and didn’t know how I would react. I don’t want to break up with her as she had no choice as this boy is known for leaking nudes. She told me she felt so guilty and wanted to tell me but was so petrified of him. She stayed up until 10 am cuddling me, apologising and answering the questions I had. I genuinely do believe she was being blackmailed.
This feeling hurts so much. After we would cry together if feel okay but now she has gone home and I’ve started cutting myself and I can’t get the image out of my head. I understand breaking up with her would probably be good for myself but I am not ready to give up on us as I have never loved a girl as much as I have with her. How can I get over this. She has removed him and hadn’t spoken to him for 3 months anyway as she eventually was able to put her foot down and stop it despite her trying multiple times before before but he said he didn’t care that she had a boyfriend and she’d keep doing it or the nudes would be leaked. I’m going to message him and pressure him with my mate but how do I get over these feelings. I feel like a clown now knowing what happened but being clueless at the time and loving her with everything I have.
I am begging someone to help me. Breaking up is not an option I just need help to be the happy boy I was with her the day before I found out.

My wife Shanda is a nurse who has been fired from four hospitals for stealing and consuming patients prescribed narcotics. She has had her nursing license on probation 2 times. Addiction is only one of her flaws. She has been with her husband for 18 years, married for 11. In October of 2022 they went away for the weekend to celebrate their 11th wedding anniversary. After returning from their trip, Shanda wasted little time by starting an affair with a co-worker just 2 days later. She had laid the ground work for this affair before leaving town. This winner she cheated on her husband with, is 7 years older than her (50 years old). He is also married, actually been married 3 times. He is also a nurse. She confided or should I say spread lies to her coworker about her husband to gain sympathy and attention from him. She also told him all of her husbands business and secrets.
A little bit abour her husband. They have 3 children 17, 7 and 5 years old. Her husband workes 80 hours a week to ensure that Shanda could buy anything and everything she wanted. He loved her deeply, and tolerated everything she threw at him. Fast forward to 11/29/23. the affair had picked up steam, she spent less and less time at home and taking care of their children. She was 6 weeks in and played her wife role to ensure her husband did not suspect anything. A week prior, her husband was starting to notice weird things like changing passwords, less communication from her on a daily basis and she had become increasing guarded of her phone and spending more time than she ever have had on her social media accounts. Her husband finally had an opportunity on 11/29 when she left her phone upstairs and he grabbed it went straight to recently deleted messages and there they were 490 text messages that chronicled everything, the entire evolution of their affair. By the first week of November they were full blown sexting. She became enraged and assaulted him, saying she didn't love him anymore and didn't want to be with him. He was beyond hurt, he sacrificed his own happiness for years for her. December and January were brutual, she continued to cheat after telling him and the 17 year old daughter that she was sorry, used bad judgement and was going to focus on repairing their marriage. Her treatment of her husband was absolutely disgusting, she would assault him, broke his Imac twice, the 2nd time she hit him over the head with it. She's the one that caused all of this and she felt she had the right to take out her anger on him because he caught her. She had opened up 3 different snapchat accounts because this was her preferred way to communicate with her affair partner. Her husband had been documenting all of her violence and continued to stand by her hoping she would realize how her actions were destroying him and their children. Most of the arguing and fighting took place in front of the 7 and 5 year olds.
By January she was openly cheating in the face of her husband. January 23, 2023, her husband had found a way to have her text messages sent to his phone, that evening she gets home from work, he pours his heart out to her, begging her to stop her affair and recommit to her family. While he is doing this she is texting affair guy lies about her husband, he is telling her how much fun the day before with her was and how he is divorcing his wife and wants her to refinance his house with her, she responds with I need to make plans to leave him and spend the rest of my life with you. The whole time her husband is reading this exchange in real time, he puts his phone down but didn't close out the messaging app, Shanda notices this because the last text sent from her was a blowing kiss emoji. I forgot to mention that in the middle of January her husband got into her snapchat account and found a message from her to him where she proclaimed her love for him. In the beginning of January she was busted by her nurse probation case manager for failing a drug test which resulted in an addtional year tacked on to her probation and mandatory outpatient rehab for 30 days. Anyways after she noticed his phone she got pissed and chased him around the house trying to get his phone from him, grabbing his car keys to prevent him from leaving the house. He shouted for her to stop and not in front of the kids, put the kids to bed and i'll give you my phone he said, but she wouldn't stop. Finally, he grabbed her to get his key from her, he leaves she calls the cops, he is arrested and put in jail for domestic assault. She gets him out the next day, he notices that while he was in jail she spent most of her time on the phone with her affair friend. She tells her husband that she will go to court and not press charges, that was a lie, and on Feb. 3, 2023 she files for divorce telling her husband she was going to have the charges dropped, he knew she was lying because he put a gps tracker in her car and new she as at a divorce lawyers office. February she claimed to have ended her affair, but really it was her lawyer telling her to be more careful with her affair till this is over. Her husband, is devasted by this, but vows to get her to change her mind. she at one point tells him she will stop the divorce and another time says she will pause the divorce to attempt reconciliation. Both these times were straight lies. By this time she is telling her husband "why are you here? No one here cares about you".
She became very emotionally abusive after filing for divorce. So much so her husband contemplated taking his own life and actually staged an event to make it look like he was trying, that all backfired though. Then came March 29th, this was the anniversary of their first date, her husband comes home for work, he notices she has regular clothes on and not pajamas, she always changes into pajamas. She starts an argument on purpose for an excuse to leave and stay the night at her moms house. She leaves, he can't sleep at around 3:30am, he has a funny feeling, looks a her email and notices a hotel receipt from 12:21am that morning. He jumps in the car and races to the hotel, sure enough their is her car in the parking lot of a neighboring hotel and their is his car in the hotel parking lot that matches the reciept. Her husband calls the hotel and asks to be transferred to her room, no answer, he goes in the hotel and asks the front desk to try again, no answer, tries one more time. This time someone picks up but says nothing, he cries to her on the phone asking why? He returns to his car and now can tell what room they are in, he waits, 30 minutes later the punk ass 50 yr old walks out of the hotel and to his car, her husband just stares at him, he drives off. Hours later, she returns home packs a bunch of clothes and moves out to stay with her mom. 3 weeks later her husband has to appear in court for the charge, her divorce lawyer shows up and has the case prolonged for 2 more months. She appears to feel bad and returns home but says no affection or sex and she will let him know if she feels anything. Back up to her moving out, her affair friend started sending text messages to her husband threatening him and bringing up things only his wife knew about him, he crossed the line when the affair guy brought up his daughter's name. By this time it wasn't enough to for her to fuck another man and tell her how much she loves him, she had to mentally torment him and talk of their children to this low life piece of shit.
Now here we are in May, he tries to give her a good mother;s day and she insults him. Four days later, here comes the phone call from CPS. They interview all 3 children and Shanda and her husband, now this has gotten way out of hand, he plans to comply with CPS, Shanda has no plans to comply, that is where we are at right now. She is a cheating whore who never had the balls to tell her husband that she was unhappy before spreading her legs for someone else. She has mentally destroyed her husband and their kids, she never has shown a bit of remorse, she is looking for an apartment because their house will have to be sold because her husband cannot afford it by himself. The kids will have to lose their house and change schools. Her husband is in financial turmoil and he is on the verge of a nervous breakdown. She never put one ounce of energy into saving their marriage and has never apologized for the things she has done. Mediation is not scheduled till July 22nd, so this is far from over, who knows what the hell will happen next. This is a great example of how one person can destroy another persons life and makes you question if you even know your own wife. I will surely post updates as this seems to be far from over. I apologize for this post being in the 3rd person.

I quit my old job a year and a half ago, and since then it has been nothing short of mental hell. I have anxiety when I have days off,because I am just waiting for someone to call my phone and yell at me for something. As I worked alongside the direct and CEO of a small company. So anything that went wrong(no matter if I caused it or not) was my fault. Constantly on eggshells, whenever I would talk to them about remotely anything. They would constantly bring up the fact that I am a woman in a male dominated field. Which I was well aware, but I wasn’t aware that being followed home from work, called outside of my name, and blame for literally everything, was part of the job description. I missed holidays, birthdays, and even the birth of my niece and nephew. When my nonna (grandmother) passed away they didn’t count it as a person I was close enough to, and had to beg to have the day off for her funeral. Which was unpaid until I fought with them on it. The day of my dad’s anniversary of him passing, I requested the day off, the director called and screamed at me because I wasn’t there and I could lose my job. Even though he told me weeks prior that I could have it off. The boss’s son would harass me daily, to the point my hygiene went to crap because I did not want to come off like I was looking to be harassed as they would say. He would constantly tell me to leave my fiancé for him as his dad owned part of the business, and I felt disgusting every single day. The last straw was when during the holidays of 2021, I contracted C19 because they allowed people in the building with no mask, and would mock about how the virus is. After I was diagnosed and was urged to rest and quarantine, I called my boss and apologized for getting ill, because he was upset with me that I got ill in the first place. And that it could have been completely prevented. So day after day that I was trying to rest, I would receive phone calls about how crappy of a worker I was, how I did nothing right. So I shut off my phone at that point. Until I thankfully recovered and returned to work. That same day that I returned to work, I ended up being rushed to the hospital with a heart rate of 160 and had my first ever panic attack. After I returned and busted my butt to show I am a great worker; I was then declined a raise since my performance fell during the time I was ill. So I quit a few months shortly after finding a new job. Since then, I have not felt right since. Mentally, I am still scared, physically I am not okay, and I have spoken to therapist, I have went to several doctors, psychiatrist, and still feel like everything is my fault. That I am not a good person, and that life is how it is now, because I caused all of it. Even though I graduated with my bachelors degree as valedictorian and just recently received my masters.
If you have read this far, I thank you dearly, from the bottom of my heart.

I'm a single mother and I was working nights as a parking meter attendant while trying to provide for my teenage son, Ethan. It wasn't easy, but I had no choice. One thing that always bothered me was the toll my work took on our time together. I hardly saw him during the nights, but I trusted he would take care of himself while I was away.
One morning, as I returned home from work, I noticed Ethan sitting at the kitchen table, his eyes heavy with sleep. It seemed odd since it was still early in the morning. I brushed it off, thinking he must have had a restless night. But as the days passed, I began to notice more peculiarities. Ethan became increasingly irritable, forgetful, and exhibited strange behavior associated with severe sleep deprivation.
One night, when I accidentally walked in on him stepping out of the shower, I couldn't help but notice the numerous bruises covering his body. My heart skipped a beat, and fear gripped me. How did he get those bruises? What was happening to him?
The following morning, I found him with a bruised face, his eye blackened and his lip swollen. Panic surged through me as I realized something was seriously wrong. I rushed him to a doctor, hoping for answers, but all medical tests showed no signs of physical ailments. The doctor suggested it could be psychological and recommended a counselor.
Desperate for answers, I reached out to my brother, Detective Mark Collins, who was also Ethan's uncle. Mark promised to investigate and provide any help he could. As a detective, he had the means to delve into matters that others couldn't.
A few days later, while Ethan was at school, I received an unexpected visit from Mark. He looked weary and troubled. Without wasting a moment, he sat me down and informed me of the troubling developments. Other worried parents had been reporting similar cases of their sons disappearing at night, only to return home battered and bruised.
Mark had taken charge and started a dedicated investigation into the matter. He revealed that he had been working tirelessly for a whole week, following leads, interviewing witnesses, and searching for any clues. However, despite his efforts, he admitted that he had made absolutely no progress. The cases were shrouded in mystery, leaving him frustrated and filled with a sense of helplessness.
The weight of the situation settled heavily upon me. It wasn't just Ethan. There were other families going through the same ordeal, and no one had answers. The fear and anxiety grew stronger within me as the realization sank in that our struggle was far from over.
I thanked Mark for his dedication and his relentless pursuit of the truth. As he left, we exchanged a knowing glance, silently promising to continue the fight together.
Days turned into sleepless nights as I anxiously awaited any updates from Mark's investigation. Meanwhile, I juggled work, trying to maintain a sense of normalcy for Ethan. But the underlying fear and uncertainty gnawed at my every thought.
One thing became clear—we were running out of time. The nights stretched on, each one bringing new nightmares and unexplained bruises on Ethan's body. I couldn't bear to see him suffer, and I knew that I had to be his protector, his shield against the darkness that threatened to consume him.
With every passing day, the sense of urgency grew stronger. We had to uncover the truth, find the source of this malevolent force that tormented our children. When the police put the investigation on hold - however - I was left with the fears from the beginning.
Frustrated and worried, I took time off work and stayed home, determined to uncover the truth. I kept a watchful eye on Ethan, making sure he didn't wander off during his sleepwalking episodes. One night, I followed him discreetly as he made his way to an abandoned house in our neighborhood.
My heart pounded in my chest as I peered through a crack in the wall and witnessed a chilling sight. Ethan stood among a group of other teenage boys, their eyes closed, their bodies moving with unnatural precision. As if puppets under someone's control, they began to fight, mercilessly punching and assaulting each other.
Fear overwhelmed me, but I knew I had to act. I called Mark, my brother and the detective, pleading for immediate help. By the time he arrived at the abandoned house, dawn was breaking, and the boys had dispersed, returning to their homes, leaving behind a trail of unconsciousness and injuries.
Realizing that no one else could protect Ethan but me, I made the difficult decision to quit my job and find new employment during the day. I couldn't risk leaving him alone anymore. I feared the unknown force that controlled those boys in their sleep, and I knew it was only a matter of time before it would come for my son again.
As the days turned into weeks, my desperation grew. I sought guidance from every possible avenue, determined to find answers and protect my son from the relentless onslaught of the somnpugilist. It was during one of my counseling sessions that a breakthrough, albeit a terrifying one, occurred.
The counselor, Dr. Simmons, had been tirelessly studying Ethan's case, and after numerous discussions and examinations, they finally approached me with a chilling revelation. Dr. Simmons explained that they had been consulting with experts in the field of sleep disorders and unearthed a disturbing theory.
With a serious expression etched across their face, Dr. Simmons told me, "Based on all the evidence we've gathered, the peculiar symptoms, the sleepwalking episodes, and the pattern of physical injuries, we believe your son is a victim of a rare and malevolent phenomenon known as the somnpugilist."
I had never heard of such a term, and the counselor continued to enlighten me. They described the somnpugilist as a mysterious entity or force that thrived on the vulnerability of sleep-deprived individuals, manipulating their subconscious minds to engage in brutal and uncontrolled acts of violence.
My heart sank as the weight of this revelation settled upon me. The realization that Ethan was not only a victim of his own body's betrayal but also a target of something otherworldly sent shivers down my spine. It was as if we were caught in a nightmare from which there was no escape.
Dr. Simmons assured me that they would continue researching possible remedies and solutions. However, their tone revealed a hint of helplessness, as if they too were grappling with the enigma that was the somnpugilist.
The knowledge that my son was being tormented by a malevolent force beyond our comprehension both terrified and galvanized me. I resolved to do everything in my power to protect Ethan, to shield him from the clutches of this insidious entity that sought to destroy him.
Together with Detective Mark Collins, we delved deeper into the lore surrounding the somnpugilist, seeking ancient texts and obscure references that might hold the key to its defeat. Each day brought us closer to understanding this dark force and formulating a plan to combat it.
The battle against the somnpugilist was far from over. We faced sleepless nights, relentless assaults on our sanity, and the fear that time was slipping through our fingers. But armed with newfound knowledge and unwavering determination, we pressed forward, ready to confront the somnpugilist head-on.
Now, I work at a small diner, my shifts aligned with Ethan's school hours. I rarely let him out of my sight, and I remain vigilant, constantly on guard. But deep down, I know that this battle against the somnpugilist, the sleep-fighter, can only last for so long. Darkness lingers, and the fear of the unknown looms, threatening to consume us both. With Mark's determination as both detective and uncle, we cling to hope, determined to unravel the mysterious and sinister forces that haunt our lives.
For Ethan's sake, for the sake of all the boys caught in this nocturnal nightmare, we would not rest until we unraveled the secrets of the somnpugilist and put an end to its reign of terror. Our journey would be treacherous, but the love of a mother, the devotion of an uncle, and the strength of our united front would serve as our guiding light through the darkest of nights.