I knew things were hot right now, but this is simply wild. My wife and I are looking at homes in south/southwest city and parts of the county. Nothing special, just your typical 3 bed/1.5 bath, 1700-2100 sq ft, middle-class home. We've put in multiple bids on properties so far and every single one has sold for at least $50k above asking on the first day on market. Many entry-level homes are now approaching or above 400k in areas where in 2020, the last time we looked, they were going for under or just above 200k.
What scares me is that we are in the top 3% income percentile in the area and save exceptionally hard. If even we are uncomfortable with the purchase price of an entry-level home, how in the heck are these people able to afford these purchases? Seems like a house of cards, but I keep holding off and prices just keep going up.

I did try to keep this to a minimum but there’s some backstory I want to include details because I really want to give as much information as possible since I’m looking for help. It took two of us to make this mess. We both made mistakes to get here. I really want to fix this and I’m very willing to accept my part in this mess and see what I can do better.
I’m new here so please excuse formatting or if I mess up some of the acronyms. I’m sorry for my crap grammar and spelling. This is an old Reddit account of mine I forgot I had so not really a throw away but I don’t want to risk any of our friend group seeing our dirty laundry.
A little about me 23 they/them. I grew up broke, with crappy parents and legal guardians with almost no support system. I’m a person of color and pretty queer. I have worked since I was 14 , as an adult did online SW. (he knew I did that when we started dating, even as friends he was very aware of my line of work )I'm also chronically ill/ disabled. HL femish person
About him 26 he/him. He grew up in an upper middle class white American family and grew up in a gated community. Never had a real job till college always had a support system. HLM
I have some health issues that have always been complex and borderline medical mysteries. His family hated me before they met me. His father made statements about “girls like her” even referred to me as racial slur in-front of his family. Younger sister stalked me online finding anything she deemed inappropriate or offensive and sent it around to his family. He couldn’t post pictures of us together publicly since it wouldn’t look good to family/employers.
This is my attempt to summarize 5 years of a relationship but I’ll make a TLDR of this section. I’m sorry about the rambling. Im nervous to share as I know how mean Reddit can be. I want help. I don't ever want the man I love to feel like how some of the people in this subreddit feel and I think I’m making him feel that way now.
Year 1- mostly online good relationships would do fun dirty talk on texting / videos and lots of “fun” when we would visit each other which was actually pretty often considering we were broke and collage yada yada. His family hated me, were rude to me, tried to exclude me from his graduation, refused to allow any photos evidence of me being there. I only got one picture of us together at his college graduation. We would visit each other a decent amount and it would be a fuckothan but I would not really finish.
Years 2-3 - consisted of a good relationship, split chores, love and support, a good bedroom life. His family still hated me and was accusing me of faking health issues and anything else they could think of trying to get him to leave me. online harassment from his sister ect. They hated that I did sw, he said he was okay with it when we first started dating but his mom brought it up she said that he didn’t like it which i found out was a lie much later. I stopped doing sw for the most part only when money was tight he was aware of this. I started my own business to make extra income sometime during Covid it started to get big. He supported me and was super proud of me. We almost broke up when we tried to move in together after a year plus of dating. His mom told him if he moved in with me she would take his car and throw all his stuff away. He had a job paying all his own bills except for phone. I was almost left homeless. We almost never had fights between us only about his family. They blamed me for the distance between him and them. He struggled to tell them the real reason which was partially how they treated me but mostly his own personal reasons. They would fuck off after a week or two things would go back to normal with him swearing it wouldn’t happen again. This was a cycle and during that time we wouldn’t do stuff. We were still having “fun” pretty regularly outside of the turbulence, think like 2-3 months of good healthy sex life then nothing for a bit and then back to normal. I don’t finish during “fun” times but I loved making him finish so I would handle myself later.
They ruined my birthday by starting things while at my birthday dinner with friends ( my birthday is also the anniversary of my dads death but the month is full of death anniversaries of my family. It's a really hard month ) my sister died a few days after my birthday in year 3. While visiting my family in my home state his sister was harassing me on some fake texting app number. Our lease was ending. He made a bunch of promises on how it would be better, how he would stand up for me and set boundaries but no follow through yet.
Year 4 - I got sick and needed surgery and intense treatments. He was there the whole time going into appointments with me holding my hand being amazing. I was depressed that my sister had recently died. It wasn't easy. His grandmother offered to get a PI to follow me around and prove my illness was fake. That was when he lost it and cut them off NC for months. ( he told me about this months later) Eventually he reached out and set boundaries and told them we got engaged. They told him it was a mistake and used statements like “if you think you love her” ect. I was angry at him for years of this. Not standing up for me or himself sucked. We almost broke up. “Fun” pretty much stopped. We did separate therapy. I stopped because money was tight on my half of the finances.
Year 5 - moved into a bigger house (renting) had normal couple issues. Had the big surgery I needed and worked on my health. We got different bedrooms for our own space. I’m a night owl and he is a light sleeper.I was still recovering from health issues dealing with the pretty huge changes in my body but still we both have maintained having HL but not much “mutual fun”. It feels like a chore at this point for me to actually follow through. I love kissing him. I love being near him cuddling, hanging out ect but “fun” just doesn't seem “fun”. I almost always initiate. I stopped which is when things super dwindled down for mutual fun. My business struggled due to stuff out of my/our control. I went back to normal work but it was doing a lot of damage to my health physically and mentally and wasn’t great for the recovery of my big medical scare he wanted me to quit and I knew I needed to. Money got really tight. “fun” was dead but we both still had HL. did stuff maybe 7 times in a year.
Going on year 6 - I went back to doing sw and was trying to drag my business back from the dead. I didn’t know how to tell him, he was already working 2 jobs I never got to see him. He was burning out and I couldn’t find a job that would actually accommodate my disability. Eventually he found out about the sw. We fought but in the end agreed there wasn’t much of a choice. I was wrong for hiding it and should have told him about it. He said he would stop trying to keep the financial load only on him. We sat down and took a look at our bills, made some plans and figured out what we could do to fix the mess of money issues and he asked his parents for help. Made a joint bank account for bills. I kept doing sw for a little longer. I got a new job. I’m in way better health and we are working on the money issue. He was still in therapy for a bit but money was tight so he stopped. Money is getting better. He might be open to going again and I know I would be. Both of us still have HL but not really doing anything together he wants to and I kind of do(?). I want to make him happy.
Sorry for the crappy timeline of our relationship. It's been 5 1/2 years of love and a lot has happened that is hard to summarize.
If you don’t wanna read all of that here’s my attempt at a tldr
long distance turned attempt to move in but his family hated me I almost ended up homeless in a new state we worked it out and moved in together. we don’t fight unless it’s about his family’s treatment of me. I got put in a couple more really not great situations due to his family and him not standing up for me. Eventually he stood up went NC then started working on stuff with them since he had a better idea of boundaries. We were having sex but I was never finishing but I still enjoyed our fun. I would just finish myself off later. Last yea2 years ish I stopped initiating mutual fun. We both have HL but he never really attempts to start things or is awkward about it. I don’t really want to start stuff since I know how sex will go at this point and just don’t feel like going through the hassle when I can finish myself off faster and more personal enjoyment. A few years ago we got into a fight. I told him I was never really finishing I would get close sometime but never get there. His feelings were hurt he made an attempt to do better and get me there but he just hasn’t been able to. Sex is 5-10 min at most 30 min on special occasions but for lack of better words, sex is mid. He is trying to be kinky as he has recently gotten past his pretty sexual repressive instinct left from his childhood. I love kinky stuff and enjoy this new revelation of his, but I’m still not finishing.
Something I wanna make clear. I have never asked him to choose me or his family. He went NC on his own and didn’t even tell me bc he didn’t know how to tell me they accused me of faking a huge very scary health thing I was living through. I tried to look good for his family. I cleaned up my online profiles. I stopped doing sw as my main income source ( in the end he didn’t have a problem with it, his issue was how others might perceive me or judge me and scared about family reaction) I pushed him to try to have some sort of relationship with them through the years. I lost a lot of my family so holidays and like parental celebrations are something I would kill to have. I told him he should be there for those moments so he can have them because his family is still there. The only thing I wanted was for him to shut down any bs I would tell him all the time “ I’m not angry at you for what they say you can’t control that, I care about your reaction. When you don’t shut it down or stand up for me or allow them to influence your decisions on *our* life that’s when I get upset. “ They don’t try to know who I am, just kind of see it on paper or social media and write me off as nothing for 6 years and they still don’t think it’s a serious relationship. They see it as him taking the charity case of the trashy broke girl who’s using him for money. They never get to see him happy or really express himself. He started buying his own clothes (his mom would just buy him stuff and he never complained) he developed a sense of style and is really blossoming into a really wonderful person with lots of passions and interests. I wish his parents could see the man I know and love. I wish they could see how much love we both have for each other and the happiness that we bring to each other.
So now you’re caught up. I love him, he's my best friend. We have been through a lot but I’m still angry about all those years of bs he put me through bc he couldn’t stand up for me. We have talks about wanting kids and I do want that with him. I want the rest of my life with him. I want to build a home with him. I love kissing him and stuff. I *want* to want to have sex with him. If that makes sense? How do I tell him it’s hard to get past all the previous crap? It’s like this mental block I feel like I’m punishing him even though he did the work to fix it. I’m proud he did it but angry. Why did it have to go on for so long and get so horrible for him to fix it.
I don’t know how to tell him honestly that I haven't been finishing. He tries even when he’s finished he will keep going but I can tell and just kinda want it over with so I’ll give a couple good moans and ask him if he finished and kiss him and start the clean up. It’s not that he just doesn't care if I finish or not. Sometimes I think there’s something wrong with me because I can’t finish no matter what I do when I’m with him. Recently he’s tried a few times to initiate but bad timing or I wasn’t really feeling it so I said no. I feel really guilty when I say no but I know he can tell if I’m not really feeling it and will stop halfway. Which is worse than just saying no.
Things I’m doing to try to fix it
I try to sleep in bed with him every once and a while but I wake up in pain so it’s often not worth it. So I've been looking to find a mattress that both of us can sleep on and not wake up sore.
I’m trying to initiate again so far. It's been successful in getting us to do stuff but I’m still not getting there and it’s not often that I can work up the courage or energy to put myself out there and do stuff with him even if I know he will jump at the chance.
I’m trying to work past the too little to late feeling, looking up therapists in our area. I grew up in constant fight or flight. I didn't have stability and was homeless a few times. So when I was almost homeless again it really broke my trust in him. I’m hoping that if I can become more independent again I can feel that security and stability I used to feel with him again.
I am going to try to communicate to him that I can’t seem to finish during sex and take accountability for lying to him about finishing. I can’t really be mad at him about it since he doesn't know.
I’m going to plan dates for us and take some romantic initiative and hopefully that will help.
I’m trying to do more around the house to help but being careful not to push too hard so I don’t have a health flare up and be bed ridden.
How do I enjoy having sex with my partner again? How do I tell him he’s not making me finish? How do I let go and fully trust him again to not put me in a bad situation again because of his family?

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I am the youngest of two. My older sibling is married and has a toddler. There is a fairly big age gap so we have always been in different seasons of life but get along fine. Their spouse has never really been nice to me but we are cordial to each other. Everything in my life has always revolved around my sibling and what they have going on in their life. First it was graduations, engagement, wedding, buying a home, having a baby. Now everything revolves around their schedule because of the child. I get it… and I’ve been supportive. This last year however has been the worst of my life. I had to have multiple surgeries and ended up needing to move home with my parents. They didn’t offer to help like I had helped them, so I hired movers. I have been out of work this whole time and the days are monotonous. Outside of checking on me the day after surgery, the support quickly dwindles. No one checks on me to see how I’m doing mentally or physically or offers to spend time with me, but my mom is constantly doing things to support THEM. She also gets irritated with me when I don’t want to go to their house but it just makes me feel worse. It’s like I’m invisible to them. All I want is for them to care about ME. They have no idea that I feel like I’m drowning on a day to day basis. Any kind words or advice?

I work at an auto shop and got my car inspected by a co-worker, we noticed multiple problems, some of them we aren't sure of what they are yet but we have some suspicions. My car is a 2009 Honda Civic coupe. Unfortunately all we could do was an inspection, since we were at the end of our shift. So far I haven't been able to get another inspection due to work being too busy.
First question, What could cause "Free play" with camber? While we had my car in a lift, we looked under it, one of the problems was actually discovered by accident, my co-worker put his hand on the driver rear wheel and felt it move sideways.
It didn't move very far but, the fact that it moved at all was concerning, all the lug nuts were tight so we ruled those out, we believe it's the actual hub that's moving.
Along with the previous stated problem, we found a possible timing cover leak, rear shocks leaking, possible rear main seal leak, wheels are out of alignment, and bald front tires.
Second question, could any of those affect fuel economy? I find myself needing to refuel more frequently, though it's possible this could be due to driving frequently at long distance, since I work far from home and work 5 days a week.
I also may need new engine mounts (Although this wasn't discovered at work, I felt I should include it for the next question.)
3rd question: including the engine mounts, which of the problems should I get fixed first? I don't have enough money to get them fixed all at once.

I apologize if this is very lengthy and personal. I’ll start from the beginning. When I was 16 my first girlfriend wanted a baby (16F). She would make my do things I didn’t want to, and I was too young and dumb to know better. These included public sex, very graphic videos, sex with the parents home and the door open, etc. These were all things I was very uncomfortable with. The “finale” of this was when she made me promise that I’d impregnate her, or else she’d leave me. Thankfully I did not, however she did in fact leave me as a result of this.
I was heartbroken. However, 2 months later I found a new girlfriend who was very much more healthy (sexually) in the relationship. However, I would sometimes struggle to keep an erection when it came time for sex. This resulted in very humiliating experiences time and time again. However, thankfully I was able to satisfy her with my fingers and mouth, and so she was happy. However, I was left feeling humiliated.
And here we are now. I’m 20 years old, and until last month, had not been sexually active in over a year. Last night me and my girlfriend (18F) got a hotel room, because we both live at home and she was a virgin, and I wanted to give her something memorable, since I didn’t have that. We did it all, the shower, the foreplay, everything. Then I put the condom on, laid her down, and got soft when I went to insert it. After that I got emotional and told her everything. Her special day was ruined.
This is where is gets complicated. She was SA’d when she was younger quite badly, and fingering is not really an option in this situation. I can please her with my mouth, but it’s obviously different from penetrative. Also, I suffer from pretty bad PE. So, usually we do other stuff first and then mess around for about an hour, and then I can go again. This also means I use those numbing condoms. Should I not do that if I already came like an hour prior? Maybe my refractory period is longer than I think it is, and that’s the problem? I honestly don’t know, I’m just so confused and want help.
TL;DR I can’t maintain an erection and I’m not sure if it’s because of last trauma or something else, and if so, how do I fix it?

I was asked to dog sit for my moms best friend from this past Friday to this coming Thursday.
I am woken up from a call this past Saturday morning from my boyfriend. His mom has died unexpectedly and in a tragic way.
I immediately called my mom who is with the best friend in another state to tell them what happened. As my mom is expressing her sympathy for us I can hear the best friend in the background yelling at my mom about what is she going to do with her dog.
I went home to pick my boyfriend up (we live an hour and a half away from where I am dog sitting) and he has been with me here so I can make sure he is okay.
He should be at home with our cats and near his dad and friends during this time. I am so thankful he came back with me here so I could be there for him.
I am planning on leaving tomorrow afternoon with my boyfriend.
She is coming back tomorrow for one day and then has to leave for a conference Tuesday - Thursday.
I am not understanding why she will not use Rover to hire someone to come over and walk and feed the dog twice/three times a day. She is paying me far more than what it costs to hire someone from Rover (which she has done before)
AITA if I leave? I believe I NEED to put my boyfriends needs first here.

Let me just add this at the beginning. I need advice like a serious newbie. I’m getting ready to start house hunting. What are my first steps? What do I need to do as far as viewings, real estate agents, inspections. What’s my first steps, and to do list after that? I’m 26, and don’t have any other responsible adults to ask. I don’t know the first thing about loans, mortgages, home insurance. I’m kind of freaking out. I will be coming into a lump sum of money. I’m a stay at home mom. My husband works a great job full time. Finances are good. No debt. I’m just in a tailspin…

I have to premise that this is my first "serious" relationship.
I don't consider myself very much the outgoing type, but I enjoy walking to the store rather than ordering, going out with friends, traveling, going on road trips, etc. We started off long distance and everything seemed to be going well. We talked all day every day in voice or text. I knew she was more of the staying indoors type, and I was fine with that. And any time I asked if once I visited she'd do those things with me, and she promised to do so. Everything was going perfect, and any kind of issues were just due to the nature of long distance.
After 4 months, I visited her for almost 3 months, and at the very start things seemed to be ok. In the first two weeks we did go out once for dinner and once to the store. But she was having heavy migraines so I didn't want to push too hard. But then after that, we overall went out 3 times, once for a walk just before midnight to the nearby beach and back. Once to go for a doctors appointment (basically irrelevant), and once to the aquarium. She seemed to enjoy both times we spent time together and she wanted to stay out for longer. Other than that, every time I went to the store and asked if she would come along, she would refuse, and at some point I just stopped asking whether she'd come along, and just asked what she wants me to pick up. Every time I asked it felt like I was pressuring her into cutting off her own arm, so I never pushed for it at all.
It has now been 2 months since I'm back home, and ever since I came back, it feels like she has been slowly drifting away. We have been talking less and less. Some days even just bidding good morning and good night. That was until today. We had "the talk" and effectively we reached the conclusion that we're not happy together and things just aren't working out.
However here lies the issue. We still love each other and we want to be together, but it feels like there is nothing we can do to make it work. She suffers from depression, anxiety, and is overall low energy, and very easily drained. Whenever we do go out, she comes back weak, exhausted and with migraines that last over a day. (She's been to doctors for this but so far none have been able to help)
Is there any way to make this relationship work?

I recently met up with my friend in person for the first time. It was a long drive for me, around 6 hours, but I prepared for it. Before I made the trip, I asked her what the plans were on what we were doing. She wanted to go out. I said okay sounds great.
Then I find out, just from her talking casually about it, she wants to go out 1.5 away to a very large city. I say okay, but how are we getting there.
She says that she will drive and she will be the DD and will "sober up" by closing. I tell her that the only way I'm comfortable is if we stay in her town, which is also quite large, to drink or we get a hotel in the city. I explain to her that I will be too tired to be driving around a large city.
She asks me again and says that she will be alright because of her bad experiences blah blah she won't drink that much so she can drive blah blah. She then agrees to look into hotels.
I drive to her house and she tells me that she didn't look into hotels and is just going to drive us because she respects how far I drove that day and that she only plans on having a few. We get in her car to go, she informs me she's NEVER BEEN THERE BEFORE and is nervous. And I ask, do you know where we are parking? And she goes, oh I didn't think of that, guess we will wing it!
Then, she's driving erratically, texting, while we are on the way - explaining to me that she took special driving classes and knows how to handle the road. Meanwhile, going off the road and speeding.
At this point, I'm incredibly frustrated. We get to the bar / club and it's a good time. I'm making sure to only drink one drink because I don't really trust this girl to be good on her word. What do you know, after two drinks she tells me she's "super drunk and will need a ride"
Wait, excuse me?
So, she starts texting all these guys. Leans over to me and says "So and so is going to pick us up!". I flat out tell her NO. She goes "whatttt? I should call my ex!" and I tell her "I'm really not comfortable going to a strange man's house right now" At this point, I'm internally panicking because I am engaged and cannot be going to someone else's house. I'm also trying to figure out how I will get to her house for my belongings and my car, as well as get somewhere to sleep if she gets picked up.
I go over to the bar and get us both waters. Then, we are chilling and both dancing. I'm extremely bad with conflict, so it was very awkward for me to then ask again what the hell was going on.
She shrugs and says, "The boys said no! But I'll keep asking!" so I say "okay are you ready to go?" and she goes "Not yet!" And I say "I think we better get going".
Now she's disgruntled and we walk out the door and she KICKS her shoes off in front of everyone and says "I'm just toooooo drunk" and is hanging on random people and cat-calling guys. I'm extremely embarrassed at this point.
So I'm like what are we doing? And she's like "well should we look at hotels?" And I'm like "are you joking? It's 1 in the morning and I'm not prepared to pay for a hotel. I could pitch in, however, if you find one". And she is just staring at me and I'm like "I'm extremely exhausted right now, but I'll drive" and she goes "oh, my car has a tail light and head light out" and I go "I'm not driving then, sorry, you can drive". She didn't have more than two drinks the entire night, over the course of 4.5 hours, but I also did not want to risk having myself get pulled over for her car issues. It felt like she purposefully was doing this with the intention of staying at a guy's house the entire time.
TL;DR: I feel like my friend purposefully didn't tell me our plans for the night when I was 6 hours from home so she could meet up with guys, convincing me that she would be good to drive and not bothering with a hotel.

I have two PCs in my home on the same network. One is Windows 10, the other Windows 11. On the Windows 11 PC, I have a 1 TB external hard drive connected. I have it shared and can pass files back and forth through it with no problem. I have also setup the Win 11 PC to automatically backup once a week and it works fine.
The issue is with the Windows 10 PC. When I tried to setup the backup, first I tried backing up to a network location. Originally it said there was an error, but the second time it showed the external hard drive and all the folders, but when I clicked on it, it wouldn't let me backup to it. So I even added the login credentials for the Win 11 PC and it still wouldn't work.
Next option I tried was to map a network drive to the external hard drive. That worked no problem. But still won't let me backup to it.
Is there something I am missing that I need to do first? Again, the drive is already setup to be shared with everyone and has full read/write access.
Thanks in advance!

I’ve been lurking here for a while, this is my story for what it’s worth. I have smoked for 31 years and am 48 now. For the first few years my consumption was moderate but didn’t take long before I was getting through an ounce (NZ$400) every 2 to 3 weeks. I smoked to celebrate, I smoked to cheer myself up when I was sad, I smoked for any reason and smoked even for no reason. If I didn’t have work I’d have my first smoke when I woke up and go from there. Then work from home came along and it got even worse.
To everyone in this subreddit I feel your pain, I’ve tried to go cold turkey with the best of intentions so many times and failed..
As of today I have been sober for 1month 23 days, but leading up to this instead of going cold turkey, September last year I gave a close friend my entire stash and he dispensed me approx 0.2 g/day on average. It was incredibly hard for me to adjust to this at first and a hassle to collect but it made me savour what little I did have. I used a diary app, weighed my bud and took a photo every time.
Ironically as my tolerance level went down I started to enjoy my high so much more, to the point where I had to plan my day and get all of my tasks/errands out of the way first and only smoke after all that was done because it hit me so hard. The high I started to get reminded of why I started smoking in the first place 31 years ago!
I thought a lot about keeping my smoking to this low level but decided I needed to give it up completely for the rest of my life, I can’t trust myself not to fall back to my old ways, so I threw away all my smoking paraphernalia and sold the remaining supply to a friend of a friend.
I was having a lot of trouble sleeping so my doctor prescribed me some medication which helped, however I am still experiencing the dreams that are so vivid when i wake up I’m still talking to someone in my dream. Another example is I dreamed that my motorcycle was stolen, and again it seemed so real that I had to go outside and check it was actually still there! I’m not too sure if I had dreams when I was smoking heavily, but if I did I definitely don’t remember them.
Here in New Zealand at the last election in 2020 there was also a referendum regarding legalising marijuana for personal use. The result was 48.8% yes and 51.2% no. As you can see it was pretty close, but at the time I was astonished because I assumed the yes votes would pass by a huge margin. Looking back now I realise it’s because I know a lot of marijuana smokers, and the non smokers I know are relaxed about others smoking. Obviously if you are a smoker you aren’t likely to have many (if any) friends who are seriously against it so it’s easy to get a distorted view of the society you live in.
I’ve got some close friends who respect my decision even though a few of them are smokers themselves. But this has made me realise how it’s possible to be friends (or more like acquaintances) that have absolutely nothing in common other than a shared love of getting high. It’s sorta like “come join our happy family/gang of smokers” where excessive consumption is normalised and encouraged.
I realise this won’t work for everyone but what worked for me was massively reducing my intake first, initially I didn’t have the intention of stopping altogether, that came much later.
I definitely recommend starting a marijuana diary so you get an idea of what your consumption is, even if you have no intention of cutting down or stopping at this stage, if or when you do decide to cut down you will be able to check your progress.
The benefits I’ve noticed so far is a much clearer mind, getting better at remembering things, reduced appetite (since I used to eat too much) and being able to go up to 24hours without a single cough. Not to mention saving $160/week!
Best of luck to you all, I understand and sympathise with the struggle, what worked for me will not work for everyone but just wanted to share my story.

I’m a player that brings my baby to the game. Since it’s 4pm to 8pm, I feed her during recap then take care of her as everyone has their chance to decide what to do.
Lately, I have been following everyone’s lead. I have been having trouble be one with my character as of late, and taking care of my baby without it disturbing the table has become difficult. Last week was the hardest so I led the table at 7:30pm and just waited for my hubby in the car.
My hubby told me not to worry about feeling like a failure for not being able to calm her this time, or be upset that I snapped at him. He understood that I was just frustrated, but it was the first time our table had seen me upset like that.
We didn’t hear anything about last week until near the end of yesterday’s session.
My baby was doing better, but I was still very distracted to keep her quiet. Lots of dancing and holding (prior she would just fall asleep after a good feed and rocking.) Though the DM still offered the idea of my hubby and I rotate being at the table and have the baby home.
My hubby and I knew this day would come, but he had hoped it would be when she’s crawling. He didn’t understand why the DM thought it was a problem to have our baby at the table.
I do. We are the only couple at the table, only ones with a baby. Even if the guys at the table are the same age as us, we are not at the same stage of life as them.
I am glad we could bring and play D&D these last 4 months together. My hubby has his own car now. So he doesn’t have to rely on me and baby to bring him to D&D and back.
It sucks for me as I had to quit Tuesday games because it would go on past her bed time, and she was much harder to soothe those nights. Saturday was my only in person game.
I play online with my brother on Sunday, and after my baby is put into her crib. So I am more focused on that game. However my brother and most of his friends are in Cali or Nevada or Arizona. I am in South Carolina. It being the only game is not bad, just the potential of loosing all of my in person games only makes me realize how alone I am out here…
If there is any advise that can be given to this player or even parent advise, I would appreciate it. How to make friends while being a parent is something I hope can happen organically as she gets older and I can bring her to toddler activities, but advise there would be appreciated as well.

Sunday June 4th, 2023 12pm:
I clocked into my shift expecting to spend yet another day making drinks and helping customers, but today it was different.
After a couple hours of being on the floor my shift manager said that we were going to try the new Oleato drinks. I have to admit I was a little intrigued about it. How good can olive oil and coffee be.
The first sip was pleasant but left a residue on my tongue and lips. I ignored the feeling and drank on.
By the time I finished the short cup it was already too late.
1pm:
I was making drinks when my coworker said to me that their stomach was hurting. “Maybe I’m just getting sick” they said. I respond back in an appropriate manner and turn to look at the latte I’m making when I feel it.
I think I just need to use the bathroom and excuse myself. But that was only the beginning.
2pm:
At this point every 5 minutes one of us is using the bathroom. My intestines were screaming at me.
3pm:
I finally finish my shift and begin to head home and that’s when the horror really starts.
The pain I am feeling is approaching colonoscopy prep. I press my foot on the gas, praying I will make it home in time. Every red light makes my heart beat faster and my ass clench tighter.
I will not shit myself in the car.
One red light later, I come to the realization that I will not be able to make it home. I make the quick decision to turn towards the gas station.
I waddled through those doors like I’ve never waddled in my life. Every step my bowels closer to eruption.
I slam the door to the bathroom closed barely remembering to lock it. I get to the toilet and rip my pants off. The flood gates opened. The sound of my bowels reached Krakatoa levels.
I throw my shirt off and collapse down on my legs.
Soon after my shoes and pants follow.
I sit in this dirty bathroom naked with liquid gushing out of my ass.
I pray that it will end soon.
10 minutes later:
I collect myself and throw my clothes back on. A man is on the other side of the door and I apologize to him.
I quickly hop in my car and race back home.
Currently:
I sit here from the toilet writing this. I’m feeling a bit better and silently cursing that tiny drink.
The only thing I have to offer is this. Only drink this if you have no where to be in the next few hours or else you’ll end up like me.
Naked, hunched over in a gas station toilet, while satan leaves your body.

i have been having a problem with rewards and or just item given by npcs, i did the first quest of the dark brotherhood, the kid was suppose to give me his heirloom but it didn't appear in my inventory.
i didn't give it any attention but it started happening time and time again where i dont even receive the gold for the quests. does anyone encountered this problem? the latest mods i have installed are animation mods which i'll send here later
i'll send my mod load order once i get home.

Hey all, it’s me Frank Jones again. I wrote that post a while ago about why you shouldn’t be a paranormal investigator and a lot of you liked it. Since settling into my hideaway in the mountains, life has become quiet and I thought about checking in. The plague hit us like nothing and now that everyone is wanting to travel again, I thought to say hi. I want to say thanks to all of you who commented and gave me those weird pointy thingies this social media does. Some of you even figured out my post office box address and sent me letters. I appreciate it (and don’t do it again).
The common strain among your posts was wanting to know if I had ever encountered other things as an auditor. Of course I have but I have been reluctant to tell you because I don’t want to shine some sort of light on all of it or make it sound like some romantic adventure. It’s “pissing yourself” fear all wrapped up in a waking nightmare with a side of gory terror. I am one of the few who actually made it to retirement…if that’s what you could call this life I’m living now.
But, I have nothing else to do really. Carl only visits once in a while when he’s passing through and I cannot risk any other sort of company knowing I’ve pissed off a lot of people…and things. So, I’m back on this internet board and sharing. So many are curious, I thought maybe another story can scare you all straight. This was the first time complacency almost got me and another killed.
This story takes place somewhere in the 90s in a small New England town. It was one of those places nestled along the banks of a serene river, historic brick buildings line the winding streets, their facades adorned with weathered signs that hint at the town's seafaring heritage. A place where everything smelled like either the ocean or decaying fish. I’m not going to specifically name the town to protect the young lady that may still be living there but in the heart of the town, there’s a renowned drawbridge which stands as a testament to the place’s affinity for water. Its ancient mechanisms creak and groan when allowing vessels to pass through the calm waterway. It also had some of the best outdoor markets I had a chance to stop and check out.
I didn’t pass through this part of the country that often as my boss preferred me to do the long hauls across the country but there was a dead haul nobody wanted.I took it cause I wanted a change of scenery. I was already working as an auditor and part of a loose alliance of others who investigated and dealt with any weird things. I actually had a few monsters under my belt. I honestly had the foolhardy idea that I could handle anything out there. God, I was an idiot.
The supernatural never crossed my mind until that evening, stopping to fuel up my red 1992 Peterbilt 379 and paying for the gas with the attendant and restocking up on those beef jerky sticks and coffee.
That was when I noticed her. She was a young woman about in her mid 30s looking like one of the corporate types with the short hair cut and business suit. I would have not paid her any mind if it wasn’t for the touch of apprehension on her face as she talked on one of those new fangled bright yellow Nokia cellphones. Soft strands of chestnut hair framed her face, their gentle sway moving as she glanced around while talking on the phone. As I observed her, I couldn't help but notice the way her fingers trembled slightly, when trying to get money out of her pocket. I’ve seen that type of fear before. So, like a creep, I eavesdropped on her call.
“Yes, it happened again,” she had said as the nickels finally made it to the counter to pay for her snacks. “I could have sworn there was something outside the window near the edge of the forest….no, of course the security cameras didn’t pick up anything. They’re cheap. Ronald was a skinflint when it came to things like this. Hope he’s rotting in hell wherever he is.”
My mind began to drift away, more annoyed I couldn’t get a move on it. It sounded like a problem for the police and if anything, I was gonna tell her that. It was what she said next that made me stop and brought back the reality of the world.
“Yeah. like nine or ten feet tall. I’m thinking kids are playing around with scarecrows or something. Won’t come from the edge of the forest and when I check, I can see foot impressions and stuff. I already put in a call to the cops. They found nothing.“
“Did it sway a bit and its eyes seem to glint like a cats or owl?” I asked without thinking.
The look I got from both her and the gas attendant made me realize what I had done. Well, too late now.
“I’ll call you back,” she said quickly, eyeing me as she hung up the phone and slipped it back into her purse.
“You need me to walk you to your car, ma’am?” the attendant asked, staring at me.
Of course, I forgot that The Truck Stop Killer had only been arrested a few years before.
“I’m fine, thank you,” she said, quickly gathering her stuff and making for the door. I slapped the one hundred and seventy bucks on the counter to pay for my diesel guzzler ignoring the change and followed her out but making sure to not move in a way that caused the teenager in the station to call the cops.
“Ma’am,” I called out to her and she turned to me while hurrying up her pace.
“I’ve got pepper spray. Stay away from me.”
“The thing in the woods. You could have sworn you smelled fresh dirt like mulch and it seemed to sway back and forth like it could not keep its balance.” I threw it out there in desperation.
She froze and turned to look at me. Eying me up and down as I kept my distance and angled to head towards my truck.
“How do you know?”
“I…uh…dealt with something like that before. On a job in Canada.”
“Who are you?” she asked, looking at my faded shirt and company logo. “A trucker?”
“I moonlight as a problem solver. Like an auditor of sorts.”
“Who is it?” she demanded, eyes still affixed to me and hand in her purse.
“Better question is ‘what is it?’,” I answered.
I have learned to pick up on the contempt and disbelief from people who hadn’t seen what I have. I was already being dismissed as a whack job.
“You have tracks on your porch you have written off as animals, especially if you own a dog. If you did own a dog, it’s missing. Cops told you it ran away. You got a garden?”
“Yes,” the certainty had started to leave her voice. “A walled garden.”
“And anytime you’re in there, you feel like you’re being watched.”
At that, her hand came out of her purse empty and she approached me with the fear I had seen in her eyes now on her face.
“How did you know?”
“I’d rather not explain out here,” I said sheepishly running my hand through my sandy brown hair that only started getting flecks of gray. “But you got a…pest problem.”
“And you can do something about it? I’ve had exterminators, cops, nature lovers…even a priest.”
“None of those won’t do you any good and I don’t want to scare ya but it’s more active which is not a good sign.”
For a few moments, I could see the indecision in her eyes. The desperate want to dismiss me as a lunatic but whatever she had heard or seen won over.
“Fine. You can follow me to the house.”
“Mind if I hitch a ride?”
The woman started but then looked at my truck. “Promise. I mean you no harm. I really think you’re in danger.”
That was when I found her name was Isabelle Walker.
We left my truck in long-term parking after she told the attendant that I was a long lost relative and that’s why the change of demeanor. I don’t know if he believed her but at that point, I don’t think he cared. I left my truck with its metallic frame standing tall and proud amidst the rows of other vehicles.
I did not realize how desperate this woman was until we got going on the road. I had loaded myself in the passenger seat after pulling out my military backpack from the war which I also used for my auditing services and tried to look as harmless as a man of my stature could.
For the first fifteen minutes of the drive, her focus was on the lonely road, those beautiful eyes darting to me anytime I shifted my weight. I didn’t want to scare her so it was her that spoke first.
“What is it?”
“I really don’t know but the people in my profession call it a Bone Walker.”
The nose crinkled in disbelief.
“Halloween is not for a few more months, Mister…”
“Jones. Frank Jones.”
The James Bond reference caused her to snort in amusement.
“I don’t know what to tell ya, ma’am, except I’ve dealt with some pretty scary things out there. Normally I’m never this forward as most people try to call the cops on me or dismiss me as a lunatic. I mean, I could be a lunatic but I know what I’ve seen.”
“And that is…?”
“You know. Ghosts, vampires, werewolves. They’re real. They’re not common but real nevertheless.”
“Really?”
There was still the disbelief in Isabelle’s voice but I grew to ignore things like this.
“Sure. I mean, think of all the things you experienced and be open to alternate answers.”
Isabelle was quiet for a few minutes and then sighed. “Either you are telling the truth or you're the biggest liar and I’m a fool that’s not going to live through this night.”
“I promise,” I tried to reassure her. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
After a few more minutes and off the main highway, we approached her home. The large house stood resolute amidst the dense, ancient forest, its weathered exterior a testament to the passing of time. It was a grand structure, its imposing presence commanding attention. The sprawling estate exuded an air of mystery and faded grandeur, as if it held stories whispered through generations.
As we pulled in, the main house loomed before me, its facade adorned with intricate woodwork and worn stone. Ivy crept along the walls, weaving an emerald tapestry that hinted at the passage of years. The windows, framed by elegant yet slightly cracked panes, stared out into the world with a mixture of curiosity and melancholy.
To the side, a large shed stood detached from the main house, its weathered boards echoing tales of forgotten tools and lost endeavors. The wooden structure sagged under the weight of time, its roof covered in a patchwork quilt of moss. Inside, shadows danced amidst remnants of a bygone era, rusty equipment and dusty shelves attesting to the once-bustling activity that had long since ceased.
Not far from the shed, a family cemetery nestled amongst the ancient trees. Tombstones, adorned with intricate carvings and weathered inscriptions, dotted the landscape. The hallowed ground exuded a solemn tranquility, as if time stood still in reverence for those who rested eternally in its embrace. Wisps of fog clung to the grassy knolls, lending an ethereal quality to the sacred space.
At the far end of the property, an old walled garden stood as a testament to the house's former splendor. Once vibrant and lush, the garden now appeared overgrown and untamed. Stone paths meandered through a sea of tangled foliage, leading to hidden nooks and forgotten corners. Dilapidated stone benches, adorned with intricate carvings, sat scattered throughout the garden, silent witnesses to a time when laughter and conversation filled the air.
As I stood amidst the silence of the forest, the house, shed, cemetery, and walled garden formed a tapestry of history and mystery. They were a testament to the ebb and flow of life, the remnants of a bygone era that clung to the present. Within their weathered walls, secrets whispered and memories danced, waiting to be discovered by those who dared to venture into their enigmatic embrace.
“Great place to be haunted, huh?” she said with sarcasm. “My ex left it to me in the divorce. Was only going to be here long enough to sell it but no one wants it and my job wants me to move to this state anyway.”
“Where are you originally from?”
“California.”
“So, this is definitely a change of scenery for you,”
Isabelle only hummed back at me as she fumbled for her keys in the dying light of evening. I pulled my backpack closer to me as my eyes scanned the treeline where the shadows had begun to deepen. Nothing stood out against the silhouettes of ancient trees which was a good sign. I wasn’t too late.
Stepping through the weathered front door, I entered the interior of the old house, greeted by a mix of nostalgia and faded elegance. The air carried a hint of mustiness, a reminder of the countless years the house had to have witnessed. As my eyes adjusted to the dim light filtering through the stained-glass windows, I could make out the clash between old decor and the modern furniture Isabelle had bought.
The foyer, adorned with a worn, threadbare rug. The walls, once adorned with portraits and intricate wallpaper, now bore the markings of time's passage. The wooden banister of the grand staircase, polished with use, creaked softly under my touch as we made our way towards the living room.
Moving further into the house, I found myself in a spacious living room. Large, ornate windows which would have allowed slivers of daylight to filter through the heavy velvet curtains. The walls were adorned with faded wallpaper. An aged fireplace, its stone mantle adorned with trinkets and old photographs, served as the heart of the room.
“You want some coffee?” Isabelle asked, throwing her keys on to the coffee table. I sat down on her couch and dropped my backpack on it with a clunk.
“Sure.”
“Sugar?”
“A lot.”
The kitchen light clicked on and I heard her moving about setting up the coffee pot. The adrenalin was now pumping through me as my mind raced. I’m not going to go into a lot of detail on what a Bone Walker is but it’s a creature that usually haunts the western coast. It being so far out east was strange. I pulled out my old gun bag and unrolled it. My Stevens Model 520-30 “Trench” shotgun was the first thing I reached for as I popped open the internal pouch holding he high flash shells I was glad I packed. It was the startled sound from Isabelle that made me quickly look up.
She stood there with my coffee, eyes locked on the shotgun in my hand. I slowly held up one of the cartridges I was planning to load.
“Flash powder shotgun shells. No load. Just makes a loud noise and a bright white light. What we’re facing lives in the shadows and hates light…normally,” I had heard stories that they could strike in the day but it was extremely rare. She didn’t need to know that.
“Oh,” was her quiet response. “Do…do I need a gun?”
“You know how to use one?”
“No.”
“Then it’ll do more harm than good. You got any flashlights?”
Isabelle nodded mutely, the gravity of the situation sinking in at the array of weapons and items in my pack laid out in front of her.
“Go get them.”
While she was gone, I quickly unloaded the silver bullets out of my Makarov pistol (a gift from a Viet Cong officer and a story for another time) and placed normal 9mm rounds in the clip. I had it holstered under my jacket with the two back up clips when she returned with three cheap flashlights.
“One in your hand and one in your pocket.”
“Why?”
“In case you drop the one you are holding.”
The woman obeyed silently.
As night fell quickly around us, I slung my shotgun over my shoulder and with Isabelle close, we made our way upstairs. There were tell tale signs I needed to check as the only advantage I had over this thing was the fact it stuck to a pattern. If it was at the stage I thought it was, there would be signs.
“Which room is yours?” I asked.
Isabelle pointed to a door down the hallway across from a large window. Approaching it, I quickly shined my flashlight at the mahogany door frame. It was the glint that caught my eye. Deep gouges in the wood.
“What’s that?” she asked.
“Claw marks,” I responded. There was no use sugar coating anything now.
“This thing was in my house?” Isabelle said horrified.
“For the last few weeks now,” I said, my nose picking up the faint odor of dirt and mud.
“Why didn’t it attack me then?”
“It wasn’t time.”
“What?”
Talking was going to be the only thing to keep her focused. I had felt the world shift a bit as night fell and I needed her not to panic.
“Bone Walkers are ritualistic creatures. They are very choosy over their prey. It can take a month or two before they move in. That’s why they are so hard to catch.”
“Criteria? Like what?”
“We don’t know.”
That was the honest truth. The only reason we knew their existence and patterns was thanks to blind luck and people surviving their encounters. I showed my light around looking for other signs. Discolored stains in the corners where shadows would naturally form, healthy moss and mold that shouldn’t be there. I found a patch around her bed. She did not notice and I did not want to tell her that it probably stood over her through the night watching her sleep. The sooner I buried this thing, the better.
“Frank!”
There was a trill of terror in Isabelle’s voice and I immediately looked to where she was. The woman was standing by her bedroom window staring out at something. I quickly moved and spotted what she saw. In the forest, at the edge of the shadow cast by the moonlight was an almost, imperceptible form. It stood nine feet, hunched over like a broken scarecrow, its owl like eyes staring back at us.
“Shit,” I muttered. Thank god we had turned on the lights as we went.
It was the flash of light and the crack of thunder that heralded the arrival of the storm. The lights of this old houses flickered which caused my belly to flop a few times. My brain was on fire as I glanced back from the lightbulb to where the creature was and found it had vanished.
“Where did it go?”
I did not have time to explain as another crack of lightning caused the lights to dim. I grabbed Isabelle roughly by the arm and yanked her back down the hallway towards the living room where I had left my stuff. We barely made it to the living room when the lights dimmed low. I grasped the glow sticks out of the bag, cracked a handful and scattered them about, their bright yellow light beginning to glow. The power then went out bathing us only in the eerie glow of the emergency lighting.
As we waited in breathless anticipation, the storm struck, its wrath manifesting in torrential rain. The mansion seemed to respond, succumbing to a power outage that plunged us into an abyss of blackness only moments before.
A trill of terror coursed through me. I knew this Bone Walker thrived in darkness, using it as a cloak to conceal its malevolence. We auditors were not sure if it actually teleported or it preferred to move in pitch darkness. I just knew that the black was our biggest threat.
For a few moments, we could only hear the ragged breathing of the two of us being drowned out by the pounding rain against shingle and glass. Isabelle had wound her hand into my jacket pocket and was gripping it tightly, I could feel her shaking with terror. I kept my shotgun gripped tightly in my hand listening for the tell tale sound of its arrival.
It was the movement out of the corner of my eye and the fact her grip got tighter on my jacket. I swiftly turned on my high-powered flashlight as I spun around and the brilliant beam pierced the obscure corner of the room. No matter what I had read or seen before did not prepare me for what I saw.
It stood there in the corner, its eight foot height engulfing that section of the house. My eyes strained as it appeared the thing was struggling to stay in focus. Its arms were too long for its body, spindly and almost to the floor while the legs appeared backwards giving it a strange forward leaning look. It wore a hunter’s long coat and trousers but through the rips and tears I could make out something squirming and moving underneath. The air filled with the stench of decaying plants and diseased vegetation. Its face was covered with what looked like the remnants of a cheap bandanna but its owl-like eyes gleaned back with malevolence.
Isabelle whimpered, her fear palpable in the room and the Bone Walker lunged toward us. Even though my fear was ripping through me like an unstoppable train, I had the sense to pull the trigger of my shotgun aimed in its direction. The flash and resounding roar painted the entire room in a brilliant black and white shadow causing every corner and edge to appear thick and vivid. The creature screamed and fell to the side into the shadow not illuminated by the weapon’s fire.
Isabelle had thrown herself on the couch and was huddled there, trembling with terror, while I moved quickly to crack a few more glow sticks and toss them into the dark corners of the room. In one, I saw its foot recoil back into the kitchen where it was darker than night itself. This was quicker than I had anticipated. The plans I had been formulating on the drive were no longer viable. I wanted to lure it to where I controlled the battlefield but that was not an option anymore. This had become a cat and mouse game and I knew this was with a predator I could not even hope to understand and had years to hone.
Out of the kitchen again this thing charged forward, relentless in its pursuit, it was trying to find a way around my light barrier which only appeared to slow it down. With shaking hands, I fired several more rounds, each blast forcing the creature to retreat and the girl to scream in terror. As soon as it retreated to a dark part of the house, I turned to where the woman of the house had been. To my horror, Isabelle's fear had gotten the best of her. In that moment of panic, she darted from the safety of the light, towards the hallway and the door outside.
“Isabelle! Stop!” I yelled trying to command her back with my voice but I doubted she heard me. Between the abject horror and the relentless rain, she was going to take her chance. A chance I knew she did not have.
I only took a step when I sensed it. The musty smell of an organic landfill overwhelmed me as the form silently darted past me, its long arm clobbering me up the side of the head. The world spun as pain burst through my brain. I felt the world tilt and fall heavily to the ground, flashlight and shotgun falling away.
As I slipped in and out of consciousness, I knew I was a sitting duck for this thing. There was no way for me to stop it from ripping me to shreds like some of the corpses I had seen. As I blinked, I came to my senses and realized I was alone. How long I had actually been on the ground, I did not know.
I sat up, my head pounding and I could see the door hanging open, the wind slamming the door on its hinges and the rain soaking the hallway floor. Struggling, I found my flashlight and gun and pulled myself together.
There was a slim chance that Isabelle was still alive. I had to think. Where would it go? I ran all the stories I could think of and then it hit me. The garden. The walled garden.
I charged into the rain-soaked night. I sprinted toward the enclosed garden at the edge of the property. As I grew closer, I saw that the rusted door was open and hope flickered in my soul. As I came to a stop, I brought my flashlight up again with my shotgun and saw it.
This creature stood there in the middle of the overgrown garden, its massive clawed hand wrapped around Isabelle’s chest and holding her up. Out from under its bandanna mask, putrid vines had appeared and led up to Isabelle’s face where they were forcing their way down her throat and up her nose. I could see the wide terror in her eyes as vines were snaking their way around her waist and I did not want to think about what they were planning to do.
I brought up the shotgun again and fired. Knowing that I had distance, the flash of light caught the creature by surprise. It shrieked as it fell back. Trying desperately not to release its prey. I did not hesitate to grab the machete at my side and hack at its arm until Isabelle fell down free of it.
It’s claw swiped at me striking me on the leg and easily tearing through my pants leaving bloody lacerations but I put the weapon point blank and fired another round. I do not know if it was the flash, the combination of the creature, or that the almighty above was looking out for me, but the creature caught ablaze from the spark.
It fell back swinging wildly as the fire spread unnaturally fast catching the plants around it on fire. Within a matter of seconds, the walled garden had become ablaze with the bone walker in the center. As I ripped the vines out of Isabelle’s mouth and dragged her towards the door, I looked up to see those owl-like eyes looking at me with such abject hatred that the look stick with me today.
I honestly don’t know how we survived. I had helped Isabelle to her porch and we both passed out against our will from the sheer terror and exhaustion. We were awoken by the sound of a siren. The lights had come back on sometime in our sleep and the rain had drifted off to a comforting drizzle. The fire was still raging in the garden but contained by the ancient walls. At least two fire trucks, an ambulance and cops were flying up the private road towards us.
This entire hunt had been ill-planned and stupid. I knew it. As the cops approached with their hand on their pistols, I knew that I had allowed my own ego to get in the way. I should have taken Isabelle somewhere else until I had done a proper reconnaissance. I shouldn’t have taken her home where it was waiting. And now, the cops were looking at two thoroughly soaked humans, one a trucker with a wound and a gun and a young lady in distress. I was pretty sure I was going to go to jail.
“Isabelle?” One of the cops and his voice caused her to sit up, relief washing over her.
“Derek!” she wailed. “We were attacked! In the garden!”
Another two cops that had arrived had taken off in that direction while Derek helped the girl up and took her towards the ambulance. The other cop with a comically large mustache looked at me with keen eyes, his hand still on his pistol, sergeant stripes glowing in the light.
“Attacked?”
“Yeah,” I said, sitting up slowly and keeping my hand away from the shotgun and trying not to show the one under my jacket. “Someone came after Mrs. Walker. They were in the garden.”
The cop watched me closely but there seemed to be a recognition in his eyes.
“You by any chance Frank Jones?”
My heart jumped and I must have looked startled as the cop’s face broke into a smile. To my relief, his hand fell away from his holstered sidearm.
“I’ll take that for a yes. My guess is you don’t remember me. Clay Wilson. Santa Fe PD, about six years ago. You helped my partner with a...problem. Nellie Nelson?”
I knew the name but the face escaped me.
“She told me you helped her audit a police union building.”
“Ah, yes,” I said, remembering dealing with the wraith and the twinge in my right arm from it’s bite.
The cop looked towards the fire that was slowly being put out by the fire fighters.
“Any chance this will be one of your audits?”
“Yeah.”
He seemed to think for a few minutes and then nodded.
“Then I think you need to grab that shotgun of yours and hitch a ride with me before too many people ask questions. Whatcha think?”
I nodded. I was not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. I collected my stuff quickly from the living room and made my way back out where he was waiting. As I limped with the cop to his car, I looked towards Isabelle who was being held by the other. She gave me a look of thankfulness as the cop looked at his partner with confusion.
“Her brother’s got her,” Clay said, opening the back door for me. I was not gonna argue or fight. If he took me to jail or not.
And that was it. My leg was not as bad off as I thought and wrapped it in the back of the police car. Clay only asked where I wanted to go and he took me back to my truck. With that time, I was back on the road with that small town in the rear view mirror.
I never did find out what happened to Isabelle after that, if another creature came looking for her or if she had a chance to live in peace. I just knew that we both barely made it out alive and that was due to my own stupidity. I was furious with myself for weeks after that and told myself I wouldn’t put another person in jeopardy like that again. At least, despite my idiocy, another life was saved and another monster was put in the ground...I hoped. I never did find out if they found a body.

He is 15 months old, neutered and goes weekly to a dog social group at our vet clinic that specializes in small dog groups. He's been described there as being super social and outgoing, the loud one of the group but over all a very good boy. We send him here only because it's a smaller controlled group and the dogs are closely monitored.
Suddenly last week at the pet store he started acting afraid of strangers. Normally he would be excited and run up to people and pee himself from excitement. However, he really hates the truck and we were going to be doing a lot that day so we gave him some anxiety meds the vet recommended we try and while on them at the pet store he was scared by a male employee who reached towards him quickly to pet him.
Of course we will be talking to our vet about this AND reaching out to our trainer (who already labeled him as a sensitive dog), but I'm curious what else I can do to help him.
I've had a lot of dogs in my life time, worked in shelters and rescues, this is the first time a dog is totally and completely mine.
What I have been doing is when he is meeting new people I ask them to not move and let him sniff them. I offer lots of praise and treats. Then the person can move slowly and with treats to offer and we slowly progress to pets and treats. Etc.
Fearful dogs are the hardest and at home he's not fearful at all, he's a big ol' silly goofy good dog.
I am curious what else we could do.

I am turning 18 in february, and would like an entry level gun that would be good for plinking and home defense. I am stocky guy, 5'10 190, and as far as I know, I would be the first in my family to own a gun. It feels like everyday I hear about the atf fucking gun owners over so something future proof or close to it would be nice.

Hello, friends.
Today, we're going to receive quite a lot of exposition about the nature of Strictland through the eyes of Seonghwa. There's a lot to discuss, so let's jump right in.

01: What are your thoughts on the page?

BobbyJ: I have a note on my page that says the Strictland government and economy are further explained in Pt. 3 Intro
GD: Okay. This is a big page
BobbyJ: It's interesting that emotions aren't fully abolished. They're just severely dulled. Which obviously reminds me of The Giver. And that only art has been abolished specifically.
GD: Yes, I think that's right. I feel like we should go paragraph by paragraph with this one because there is a lot
BobbyJ: From the top then?
Once again, it feels that we're left to infer what has happened in the meantime
GD: Yes, the first line makes it feel we're getting the Halateez story from the Grimes’ perspective, but then we get a lot of world building details to help us understand it. Are we to assume that the Grimes siblings think these boys look like Halateez? Or do they not know? Because Halateez wore masks?
BobbyJ: No, I think Ateez probably were like "What's the deal with this place?" And the Grimes Boy has been filling them in on the story. The entry starts at the end of the story and then fills us in
GD: A note: "the entire human race"
We've talked before about whether there is a world outside of strictland. And you know, I still don't know? Maybe that's a future goal? Or Z is in charge of the entire human race, which feels... big
BobbyJ: Yeah--it feels more like the simulation says "the entire human race would benefit from this thing" and Z just applies that structure to his world he somehow is in control of. And by his world, I mean more the country/area he's in charge of
GD: I'm in this second paragraph here, and I guess I'm just thinking that Z isn't wrong. Human emotions do cause crime and terrorism. But it reminds me of the gun debate we're currently having in our country? And all of the politicians who want to blame it on mental health? which is part of the problem, but it isn't the whole problem
BobbyJ: I disagree. It's true that we can't control our feelings. But our feelings do not dictate what we do or how we act. It's the will to do something wrong for the sake of selfishness or greed--which I don't classify as emotions
GD: I guess I'm saying that I think human emotions are a cause, but not the cause
BobbyJ: Mental health is also a factor, I think
GD: I think I am more sympathetic to Z and the simulation. I do think human emotions can lead to crime and terrorism, but they can just as easily lead to beauty and joy. So if you get rid of human emotions, you probably will stop some crime, but you will also stop other things.
BobbyJ: I am not sympathetic to Z because I don't feel this is as benevolent as it might appear. It feels very sinister to me. "This is all for you" is bullshit
GD: I can see Z as the hero of his own story--a Thanos type character--but we don't really know enough about him at this point.
BobbyJ: This is full speculation, but do we think Z also agreed to have his emotions limited and memories removed?
GD: Almost surely not. Those rules don't apply to people who can be trusted, I assume
BobbyJ: "Central government.” Implies, like, the existence of branches, no? Which makes me think the world is bigger than it feels
GD: Does the Korean government currently have branches? I know they have a president, but I guess I don't know much else about how power in the government works there. Like I don't know if they have legislative bodies, how powerful the judicial branch is, etc
BobbyJ: It appears it is similar to the U.S. After reading for two minutes
GD: Helpful context though
BobbyJ: Their president can only serve one five-year term. Means nothing but is interesting. Kinda wish we had that same policy these days
GD: For sure
I want to talk about art. Art with a capital A. Art=emotion
BobbyJ: Yes. The entire process of creating and engaging with art is based on emotions
GD: Sort of no matter how the individual members of Ateez feel about their lore, I have always felt that they embody that philosophy. Just this idea that Art is Important?
I talked about this the other day, but I was very impressed with KQ hiring a local artist for the billboard promotion during anchor. I thought it was very thematic, and also that it sort of embodied a lot of the ideas that they do put out in their diaries. Because as you mentioned earlier, art is the only thing that's banned
BobbyJ: I'm thinking about this idea of songs that give me negative feelings vs. songs that give me no feelings at all. I don't know exactly what I am thinking. But it reminds me of a chat I had with a fellow yearbook advisor years ago
He said that when his staff is trying to decide on their artistic direction for that year's volume, they'd go through a bunch of magazines and everyone would pick out spreads they really like. They'd pin them all to a bulletin board. Then each staffer would get two colors of push pins. They'd all use one color for spreads they like and one for spreads they hate. He said that after the exercise, they'd remove all the spreads that received none or few pins while those that had a lot of either love or hate pins they'd keep.
And I thought it was interesting that the hated spreads were kept. And his reasoning was that those spreads made the staffers feel something. It wasn't a good something, but it was something
GD: That is interesting
BobbyJ: And when I apply this idea to music or movies or tv or art--the things I actively dislike do stick with me while the things I just nothing fade away
GD: It reminds me of book clubs in a way? Like, in my book club, we have a great book club discussion when everyone loves or hates the book. If people are like, yeah, it's fine, the conversation is so.... nothing.
BobbyJ: Is it. . . harder to talk about things that we love actually?
I can't help but notice that whenever there's a heartfelt appreciation post, it gets very little traction and engagement. But if someone does an "unpopular opinion" or "things you hate about the group you love" post, suddenly everyone has something to share. Perhaps we've talked about this before. Justifying why you dislike something is easier than justifying why you love something?
GD: So I sometimes wonder if, when it comes to music, the problem is one of vocabulary more so than a lack of desire? Like, most people have taken a basic literature class, so when we love a book, we can all universally talk about things like plot, structure, characters--we have some sort of shared understanding of the parts of a story and can discuss and identify the things that we like
It's different for music. I do not know how to identify the parts of a song or the instruments or just the music things that are happening. Music knowledge and vocabulary is so much more niche, so I do think that makes it harder to discuss and pinpoint music that we really love--because we're experiencing it fully emotionally, the context and words all removed. So I do think with music especially, it is easier to talk about the things that we dislike.
BobbyJ: But shouldn't your dislike also require vocabulary? I remember when I was trying to rant about O.O I didn't have any of the words so I had to resort to metaphor
GD: I think it's possibly easier to come up with metaphors for things we dislike than things we love. I can only describe listening to Jongho as like looking into the face of god so many times before I start to sound like I'm slightly insane.
But you know, people don't have the right words to describe why they dislike something all the time--and they just go forward with the wrong words. How many times have you seen someone say "Ateez's music is too noisy for me" when Ateez has possibly two songs in their discography that could be labeled noise music? "I don't like the autotune" when there's barely any autotune
BobbyJ: People do seem to have Feelings about Ateez music. Which I would argue supports the idea that Ateez are making Art
I do wonder exactly what Z classifies as art
GD: I for sure agree with you. It's like that conversation about what a cover should be from the other day: you can like or dislike what Ateez does when covering another group's song, but they will be changing it to achieve their own artistic expression. They will not make you a copy. They will make new art.
We know paintings. Music seems implied.
BobbyJ: Fashion probably? Which makes me think it's interesting that Left Eye specifically is a former designer. But it wasn't the art ban that made him give up designing
Actually, reading ahead. I'm not sure fashion was banned after all? It's hard to tell
GD: I guess it's interesting to me because anything can be art. A house, a car, furniture? Given the right person making those things, they can be art just as easily as they might not be art.
So I do wonder if Z is defining Art more broadly... like, art is not this thing, but art is anything that incites an undue amount of emotion
BobbyJ: Right--I was just thinking, is all music art? And I would argue no if the person writing a song is not doing it for the sake of expression but for the sake of making money. But if that song evokes emotion in someone else, I'd say yes, it is art.
GD: We do have those prohibited signs from Rhythm Ta, which calls out "art, music, dance"? Am I remembering that correctly? Or is it "art, music, emotion"?
What does it mean for something to be defined as art is really a question courts have struggled with for many, many, many years. So it's possible that even in Z's world, what is art is a question that is constantly influx and being redefined
[BobbyJ provides screenshot of Rhythm Ta stage]
Okay, so art, dance, and music are Art specifically.
"Art" lower case art, I'm assuming is paintings, drawings, sculptures. The physical arts.
BobbyJ: Right. Literature and fashion aren't mentioned. Or acting. But maybe they fall under the general Art umbrella. Keeping it vague gives Z more control
GD: Do you know the supreme court case where the supreme court tries to define art?
I feel like I should look it up to get that quote. Hold on--I need to check something
[GD checks something]
So in Tutton v. Viti, the supreme court implied that it is up to the creators to define whether the thing they created is art. The case was about sculpture, and whether these sculptors who were copying sculptures were engaged in the act of creating art
BobbyJ: Just straight up copying?
GD: And basically, they said the sculptors were artists due to their skill despite the lack of creative merit. They weren't trying to like, sell them. It was creating replica sculptures in art class. Which would violate copyright (if they were selling them)
BobbyJ: So, like, if I do a cover of a BTS song and I sound identical to BTS, I'm still an artist . Hypothetically
GD: If you perform it with good enough skill, according to the US Supreme Court, it seems so
BobbyJ: Wait--they weren't selling them? Then what was the problem? How did it end up in the Supreme Court?
GD: I have not read the full case and it is extremely old, so hard to parse, but it seems the original sculptor did not want them making replicas in their art class and argued they were not allowed to do it because it wasn't real art
BobbyJ: Artists do studies all the time where they basically copy other artists' work in order to learn techniques
GD: And the supreme court said, no, they can do that. Which, exactly. This is a precedent that holds. If you do art and sell it, I can't copy it and also sell it. I can however copy it and use it for my own personal use (legally--that doesn't mean it's ethical, but legally)
BobbyJ: Well, it's the same idea as me copying a designer dress and making it myself and for myself because I don't want to spend $800 on a dress
GD: Like if someone made something on etsy that I wanted, and I didn't want to pay for it, I can legally copy it for myself. Right, the supreme court would define both of those things as artistic endeavors
BobbyJ: Huh. I mean--I don't disagree. I'm also not certain it needs to be termed as "art"
GD: Terming it "art" is how they protect it because art is a protected right under the constitution
BobbyJ: Wait--if art is also a protected right in the South Korean constitution, then that would imply that Z was able to change the constitution. Which is wild. How long did this process take?
(Also, assuming that Strictland was originally more like South Korea)
GD: We'd have to review the South Korean constitution. I don't know for sure that it is a right because I know nothing about their legal system. But because art is protected under our constitution, I have always defined art fairly broadly. So considering art being banned, is putting me in a different head space
BobbyJ: Article 22: All citizens shall enjoy freedom of learning and the arts.
GD: I'm now looking up how to make constitutional amendments in Korea
BobbyJ: I mean if they also had a National Assembly, he got the bill passed there
GD: It makes me think I've gone pretty far afield here
BobbyJ: If we're thinking about it, I guarantee the Intern also thought about it
GD: I would like to note that "people enjoyed material affluence"
BobbyJ: Yes, I have a sticky note about that
GD: And I am thinking of Maslow's hierarchy? Which I know is something we've also discussed a lot. But I am wondering, how many citizens weren't having their basic needs met when they agreed to give up art?
BobbyJ: Right. Is art part of our Maslow?
A lot probably. There had to have been problems in order for people to accept Z's proposal
GD: It's certainly easier to give up art if you're not currently able to eat
BobbyJ: Mingi comes to mind. Which I think is when we were discussing Maslow
GD: I have argued, and I will still argue it, that art should be part of human's basic needs. Like, it can make the rest of it all seem less grim for some people. But yeah, if you don't have a place to live, don't have any food, are struggling to just survive, giving up art for the promise of having your basic needs meet will be very appealing to many people
BobbyJ: I think I would argue that art belongs on the "love and belonging" tier which is about friends, family and connection. Art helps us connect with ourselves and others and the world around us. Like, you read a poem that perfectly describes how you feel. Or Ateez releases Turbulence and you swear they pulled the lyrics straight out of your soul
GD: Mmmmmm. . . and love and belonging aren't actually that low on the pyramid. High I mean. They're not that high--they're in the middle
BobbyJ: But you can't really fully reap the benefits of that tier if you are starving to death. And self-actualization is pretty meaningless if you aren't connected to other people in some way
GD: I spend a lot of time thinking about self-actualization which I forgot was even on this pyramid. I'm looking at the pyramid now, obviously
Yes. Art is love and belonging. I've decided you're right. So they've traded in love and belonging for the two things below it
In the next paragraph, they say that the songs had "the power to attract people" which I think is interesting
BobbyJ: The "various fields" is interesting to me. I think of people in different lines of work. Like scientists, teachers, lawyers, etc. But I'm not sure that's what it means
GD: I had long ago been confused about who the black pirates were and how they related to halaateez, but this line makes it pretty clear that halateez sort of inspired other people to get out of Z's control, and then those other people formed the black pirates
BobbyJ: Right. Halateez are "men wearing black fedora.” The Black Pirates is the name of the resistance
GD: Halateez "stimulated" them. Which, with what we know from Halazia, makes sense that the resistance seems to venerate them? Because they weren't necessarily a part of, and well known, to the resistance. They were merely the inspirational rallying cry. Does that make sense?
BobbyJ: Like Katniss. Not everyone knew her but they knew OF her
GD: Yes, and I'm interpreting Halazia as showing us what Strictland thought of halateez, not that halateez appear in the MV because I do not think they do.
Back to your point, what do you think people from various fields means if not different positions?
BobbyJ: I wondered if it meant more physical location. Although, if you have people with different skills and specialties, it would explain how the resistance is able to start fighting back
GD: Do you think it could mean something similar to stations too? Like, young, old, rich, poor, etc
BobbyJ: Could be.
GD: Skipping to the last line, we have Hwa sort of repeating a line similar to Hongjoong's in the first entry? What's important is getting back home. And they can't do that now
BobbyJ: Right. They haven't grasped their place in this story yet
GD: I read ahead because I couldn't stop myself and the jump is fascinating "we have to get back home" to "I won't come back home"
BobbyJ: I have also read ahead but a lot further
GD: Sounds right lol
BobbyJ: Because I became very curious about a different switch--how do they go from we need to get home to let's save this country
And I think I have an idea
GD: That is also the switch I was looking for
BobbyJ: This is way ahead, but after the Receiving of the Suits, in the very next chapter, San discovers the lost memories and feels "a surge of anger.” After that, Yeosang gets caught and all the drama happens with the museum and Yunho's brother. But I think that's the switch. I think it triggers San's empathy. And he spreads the agenda to the others
GD: I am very interested in what's happening with Yunho, but I suppose I need to save my interest for like 6 weeks. I do think we will need to cut this bible study in half
BobbyJ: Expected
GD: Well, this was a big page. It had a lot. We read some constitutions even
BobbyJ: Much was learned
GD: Do we have any more thoughts on the page? Or should we pick a patron saint to hold us to next week?
BobbyJ: I'm sure there's lots more to say. I just don't know what any of those things are.
GD: Perhaps we will have more thoughts on the page next week even. A double round of thoughts on the page
BobbyJ: Might even need a part 3
GD: I've been using an extra ES album to pin the postcard for my patron saint on my bulletin board, and I have appreciated it deeply. Hongjoong has been up for two weeks now
BobbyJ: I feel like the patron saints actually work. Except I didn't have one this past week and that probably explains a lot
GD: I kept Hongjoong, but I do think it would've been wise to have a refresher
BobbyJ: Let's just make sure we do it every Sunday, Bible study or not
GD: Right, even if we cancel bible study, a new, Very Important thing
So, this week, I need to finish the line edit of this book. Which means I need to focus and stay motivated. I think the boy I want to guide me through it is Jongho. I need his professionalism in the face of challenges and his commitment to doing the things that he doesn't like as much because he knows that it is part of his job.
Also, it's hard to think about anything other than his Immortal Songs stage, so I may as well lean in
BobbyJ: Let it be your battle cry
So. This is the last full week of classes. Which means a lot of work to finish off the semester. But, the list is so much shorter than it used to be. So that's something to be happy about.
But also, based on his condition today, I suspect that this might be the week I have to let go of Oliver. [Editor’s note: It was.]
And I think I need San. His ability to embody whatever moment he's in on stage. I don't fully understand how it translates, but I feel it's true
GD: Hmmm yes I think I understand, though I don't have the words either.
There's something about present-ness and humanity in there. I have always thought that San had a real ability to see the human-ness in others and to communicate the human-ness in himself. Which probably only makes sense to me.
BobbyJ: No, I think you're right. There's something extremely real about him
GD: I hope he helps guide you through what has the potential to be a very hard week
BobbyJ: Whatever happens, we keep moving forward. Which also feels very San.
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Thank you for joining us today. We'll be back next week with our Seonghwa Sacred Writing Practice. Have an excellent week, and may your personal patron saint guide you well.

I'm 24 years old a female and my mom is 41.
To start me and my mom are JUST NOW getting to a point in life where we are actually "friends" or getting along. This is the longest we have got along EVER. Growing up I always wanted my mom to be more kind and loving and understanding. Well she isn't she never sees what she does as wrong. On multiple occasions my mom has went out to dinner and even took as far as partying or hitting on my female friends and I have expressed how it makes me uncomfortable and even angry. She often complains about having no friends and honestly it's her fault because she's mean to her friends which is ironic because she's SOOO nice to mine. Lately she has been putting all her problems on me with my sibling and her relationship issues even though I live a hour away and have a toddler to take care of so it's really annoying how she expects me to be there for her in a time of need but doesn't even consider how I feel! I've vented her about always being at home and never having adult time yet she takes MY FRIEND out to dinner. Mind you this isn't her first time doing so but last time it was a different friend and we weren't friends anymore at the time and me and my mom weren't on good terms either. I feel like I may be over reacting but it really hurts my feelings how they didn't even think to invite me but can pick up the phone and call me about their drama. AITAH?