This is a bit of a hard choice for me. I don't particularly care for the analog switches, the main difference for me is that I prefer how the Analog looks. It has the RGB strip going around the edges as well as a slightly cooler looking volume knob.
Honestly, I'd like it if the frame of the Analog had the red optical switches, but as far as I know its impossible. I'm upgrading from a blackwidow V3 1.2mm actuation yellow switches, so my preference is the faster, more linear switches, which the reds in the V2 would be. That said, the difference in actuation between my current yellows and the reds in the V2 vs the blacks in the analog are fractions of a mm (1.2mm vs 1.5mm vs 1.0mm).
I guess my question is: Are the switches in the v2 analog similar enough to those in the v2 that I could justify getting it for the RGB? Alternatively, I could get the older huntsman elite, which has both the faster red switches and the RGB, but I think there would be some compromises since its last gen, but IDK what those compromises even are.

Ok so I have a klipsch rf7 ii home theatre in a spare room, where I listen to mostly music now. And my proper theatre room are the rf7iiis.
I’m super happy with the theatre room. But wanted something more musical for the music “room” (it’s a open living room). Was thinking about the 948s. But I know myself and I’m scared I will end up putting them in the theatre room. In which case I will bring the rf7iii inside the living room and get stuck in the upgrade loop again.
I noticed the 948 have a matching center (Focal Aria CC 900) but it’s ALOT smaller than the klipsch rc64iii that I have. Will it be as dynamic?
I will only buy “end game” (within reason of course) upgrades from here on out. Will the 948s sound awesome musically? Would you put it in the theatre room (I do 75/25 movies to music).
I like the liveliness of klipsch and don’t really care about linear curves on a graph, but I do notice some harshness for the rf7ii, especially at higher volumes where I like to crank them. Are the 948s pleasant at medium non deafening levels?
Sorry for being all over the place but it m literally a few hours from saying yes or no to the seller.
Thanks

I noticed a couple of things during the battle that I thought were neat nods to the lore, primarily for the Elder Scrolls because I'm not nearly knowledgeable enough to comment on those.

• The Dragonborn used exactly 8 shouts throughout the whole fight (whiffed Fus Ro Dah included) yet didn't die showing the rupturing of a cycle the Dragonborn is known for

The number 8 is important to LKHN as he was killed by the other 8 aedra, had his body split into 8 pieces and his heart became one of the 8 towers that maintain Mundus

​

A popular theory on Skyrim says the DB is a Shezarrine, an incarnation of LKHN's wandering spirit

​

• Primarily a melee fighter like any self-respecting modern nord

​

• Funny flying stick does the funny

"I used to be an adventurer like you.... Then I took an arrow to the knee"

​

• First direct hit on the Dragonborn lands on his heart (center of the chest really)

LKHN is missing his heart

​

• His "shield-thane" was killed by an archer

Tsun was the shield-thane of LKHN and was killed by Trinimac

​

• Ironically, gets hit by an attack powered by the moon (across his midsection which makes it even better)

The twin moons you see in Tamriel are LKHN's corpse

​

• Stops the rekindling of the Age of Fire, arguably putting an end to a form of stasis, much like how LKHN did.

​

• If I understood correctly what someone explained to me, the Age of Dark refers to an age of humanity in its true state, with the world being shrouded in darkness free of time and whatnot. This highlights the conflicting nature of the Dragonborn I've been noting here, with him being a fragment of both AKA and LKHN; on one hand he recreates a lot of moments through which LKHN suffered but on the other he seeks the stasis and a return the primordial state of the world before the convention.

Before the Convention, there was no linear time in the universe and this period was called the Dawn Era. The ehlnofey were the spirits of all mortal beings before they were bound to Mundus; there are many different interpretations as to why LKHN made Mundus but the Dunmeri version of events (important because theirs are allegedly backed by knowledge coming from a couple of Daedric princes who were present at this time and also Vivec) claims that Mundus exists as a sort of testing ground so that a spirit would eventually emerge from the constant hardships and 'replace' (not really but this is the easiest explanation) the uncaring Godhead

​

• The voice at the end seemingly went mad and did a 180 on its allegiance; I don't believe an enantiomorph occured here but there are elements which indicate it might have happened (The Chosen Undead being 'The King', Dragonborn 'The Rebel' and the voice acting as 'The Observer', shrouding the world in darkness probably qualifies for the blinding part required for an enantiomorph)

Enantiomorphs occur when two opposing forces are so similar that their places could be switched and nothing would change; there are 3 actors required for one to happen:
'The Rebel, The King and The Observer, the action that is carried out in a performance is that the rebel reigns the king, who has previously ruled a domain in which the rebel is involved and usurped them. The third participant, the observer, is either severely injured or killed in the course of this process. If this action is carried out, the king becomes the new rebel, while the rebel is henceforth king.'
In this case, the battle takes places at Gwyn's arena after the Chosen Undead has defeated him, Dragonborn approaches him with the intent of ending the Age of Fire and the Voice is presumably watching this whole thing

​
And that's it, I think, feel free to add anything below

I’ve been suspecting plural for a while now. I written down all my symptoms overtime that I’ve noticed, I have childhood trauma that went on from birth to my teens, I relate to posts on here
I wish I knew for sure that I am plural. I have zero communication with my parts if I have any, and I never leave the front.
I can’t remember what I did yesterday, or last week, or this morning sometimes. I feel embarrassed and ashamed even just trying to talk to parts in my head.
How do I know it’s not just BPD, age regression, etc? I just started therapy but she doesn’t know much about DID or OSDD.
I’m so lost.. could I have pretended everything? Could I have just been trying to convince myself I have this? Is that a thing that happens?

Timestamps

• Artisan timestamps
• Deskmat timestamps
• Keyboards & parts timestamps
• Keycaps timestamps
• Switches & parts timestamps

Shipping is not included in asking prices.
Prices are listed in GBP, but I'll also accept EUR or USD.
Additional photos linked inline below:

Artisans

Item	Condition	Price (GBP)
Bad Chad, BAD Lord of Fright Warbl,	Unused	40
Rath Caps, Scream BBroot,	Unused	20
HammerWorks, Ninja, Black & Green	Unused	20
KeyLabs & MiTo, Lasertooth, Nightcall	Unused	20
Suited up Keycaps (SUK), Cyberware Keybuto III, Darth Vador	Unused	40
Suited up Keycaps (SUK), Cyberware Keybuto III, Man with teeth	Unused	40
Suited up Keycaps (SUK), Cyberware Keybuto III, Skull with teeth	Unused	40
Suited up Keycaps (SUK), Cyberware Keybuto III, Skull with tongue	Unused	40
Suited up Keycaps (SUK), Cyberware Keybuto III, Lion	Unused	40
Mohawk Caps, Skwok, Terminal	Unused	20
Mohawk Caps, Skwok, Terminal	Unused	20
Mohawk Caps, Skwok, Oblivion	Unused	20
Mohawk Caps, Skwok, Oblivion	Unused	20
MEMEDA, Bone Dragon, Gold	Unused	20
RAMA x GMK MODOL Red	Unused	30

Deskmats

Item	Condition	Price (GBP)
GMK Dracula ERR Deskmat	Unused	15
GMK Analog Dreams AD Glitched Deskmat	Unused	15
GMK Arch DeskView Deskmat	Unused	15
Dark Waves Deskmat	Unused	15

Keyboards & parts

Item	Condition	Price (GBP)
REDOX, Dark wood staining, Hotswap PCB, Black braided cables, Large Tilt kit, Black Blank DSA Keycaps	Lightly used	130
REDOX Wireless, Joined bamboo case, Solder PCBs, Dark Stained reciever, Black coiled cable	Unused	60
Rama Kara, Moon, Internal Dampener	Unused	220
RGBKB Mün bundle, Black Aluminum, Alu plates, CF plates, 2 Hotswap PCBs	Unused	240
HS60 Hotswap 60% PCB, Tsangan/HHKB layout	Lighlty used	35
Project Keyborad Alice PCB REV 2 (USB C)	Sealed new	35
Deskeys Topre Silencing Rings / #2 Ultra thin	Unused	28
Sneakbox Ava T5 Aluminum (Brushed) Switchplates	Sealed new	15
Sneakbox Ava PCB (Soldered)	Sealed new	35

Keycaps

Item	Condition	Price (GBP)
ZSA Ergodox EZ Blank Black Sculpted keycaps (2) / Ergodox kit	Lightly used	35
Drop + MiTo Mythos Pegaso / Mitocorn, Spacebars	Unused	82
65% WOB Keycaps (from Portico group buy)	Unused	40
JTK Zen Base kit, Extensions, White, Green, and black Spacebars kits	Unused	140
GMK Boneyard Base, Forties, Dominos	Unused	260
Drop + RedSuns GMK Blue Samurai	Unused	140
GMK Deep Navy Base key, Spacebar kit	Unused	200
GMK Perestroika base kit, Unusual kit	Unused	175
GMK ThinkCaps TKL Kit, Icon kit, Extension Kit, Space Kit	Unused	220
GMK Analog Dreams 2 Digital Nightmares	Unused	100
GMK Analog Dreams 2 Analog Dreams	Unused	100
GMK Analog Dreams 2 Novelties	Unused	50
GMK Polybius Base kit	Sealed new	100
GMK Polybius Base kit, Spacebar kit	Unused	120
GMK Arch Shell Kit	Unused	100
Aluvia	Unused	310

Switches & parts

Item	Condition	Price (GBP)
90x Bobagum Silent Linear Switches / 62g	Unused	40
90x Bobagum Silent Linear Switches / 62g	Unused	40
90x Drop + Invyr Holy Panda Switches	Unused	40
80x Alpaca Switches	Unused	35
12x Vintage Blacks, Lubed, TX 65g springs	Vintage	5
TX Switch Films Red 0.15mm, 6 available	Unused	3 (each)
TX Switch Films Purple 0.125, 2 available	Unused	3 (each)

4'10 23 yo F SW 200 CW 161.8 GW 110
Howdy, folks! I very recently started up officially calorie counting after losing about 40lbs after separately using ADF and Keto. I'm very short and the app has given me a daily limit of 1, 256 calories a day. My BMR is 1,379 calories which seems like a very small caloric deficit. Even at my maintenance (1,654 calories), it's not much of a deficit. Lose it! projects me to lose about 50lbs by February 2, 2024. So in about 8 months at a 1.5lb/week loss. I understand and am getting more comfortable with weight fluctuations so I understand it is not a linear process. However, I'd like to know if this is reasonable. How long did it take you to lose your weight? If you tracked in Lose It!, was it a somewhat reliable timeline? I'd especially love to hear about my fellow short people's experiences as losing weight with a smaller healthy deficit seems to be a whole new beast I didn't expect to encounter 😮‍💨 Thanks, everyone! :)

There was this thread a while back that wildly lampooned, and I do believe it was written very abrasively while making unfair, childish, and offensive generalizations of large swaths of America. As a multi-generation American, I could easily make ignorant and offensive generalizations of Europe.
That said, the central argument about abortion access being a dealbreaker for schools and jobs in red states is a completely valid one. To quote a comment in that thread: "someone said you can just cross state lines if you wanted to get an abortion — lmfao that is so not true, the states are MASSIVE and crossing state lines for healthcare can have SERIOUS impact to your ability to receive care." Birth control isn't completely foolproof, and Republicans are trying to restrict that as well. Some Republican states are also trying to punish women who go out of state to receive an abortion (similar to the Fugitive Slave Act before the Civil War).
Personally, I chose Johnson over Fuqua precisely because I did not want to live in North Carolina, where the abortion laws are extremely regressive. Pre-Roe, I was eying Miami as a post-MBA destination, and I have completely ruled it out. Abortion is going to be a catalyst for serious brain drain, with many women leaving red states in favor of blue ones. The urban/rural split between blue and red matters far less than if the state government is very red and can impose its restrictive abortion laws onto people living in Austin.
And it's not just me. The overwhelming majority of Americans support Roe V. Wade & abortion rights. Pro-lifers are only a small slice of the electorate, a far-right minority who has imposed their will onto America. And among women at large, wanting to ban abortions is extremely unpopular.

Welcome to Camp Redwood! The feel-good camp for ALL AGES.
We toast marshmallows around the fire, tell spooky ghost stories, and hide in random secret military bunkers under the campgrounds! Because SOMETHING IS HERE WITH US.
Camp Redwood is the PERFECT PLACE for a summer getaway where we start EVERY DAY with a CAMP REDWOOD SMILE. Where our counselors disappear every five minutes, and our campers disembowel us for funsies! Did I forget to mention our littles aren’t actually eight years old, but fully grown adults?
We hope you enjoy your fucking stay!
We are also not responsible for any counselors revealing they are not who they said they are—and not who they appear to be.
...
So. There’s a LOT to tell you and not a lot of time to tell it.
Right now, I suppose you could say we are under lockdown—if that is the word. I want to go over the last several days to get you up to date. That’s all I can do right now. I can hope and pray the thing with Teddy’s voice does not get in here, and once again cry out for help—that I know is not coming. Not from the authorities, at least. But hey, if any of you fancy coming to rescue us, we’re in the middle of the Canadian wilderness. The closest rest-stop is maybe three fucking hours away. So have fun. Has it really almost been a week since I posted? Well, we’re still here!
And surprise, surprise, help is not coming. So, please excuse the salt. I am seventeen years old and I have been abandoned by the adults who were supposed to be looking after us.
Who were supposed to act under protocol if something like this happened. I know they were waiting for it—there are specific fucking guidelines on an emergency evacuation for counselors if this ever happened. But then the little shits took over before we could do anything. I guess I’ll start by letting you know that there are two of us left. (three, if we count Rowan, but I’m not). What I thought was going to be a quiet summer getaway with kids my age has turned into a nightmare.
For one, we have been cornered inside the head counselor’s underground secret bunker. If you want to know why she has a secret military bunker, I guess you should keep reading.
Because shit gets weirder than animal crackers having the power to turn adults into kids, and vice versa. When I made my first post, I thought that was it for us. I thought for sure there must have been a self-destruct somewhere—which meant whoever was running this camp was waiting for something like this. I was sure we were going to die, so after making the post, I have to admit with ya’ll—I just slept. I curled up, tried to ignore Harry and Carmel calling our names through childish laugher, and went to sleep with the thought in my head that I was completely at peace with what I had done with my life.
Sure, I was young. Seventeen years old is too young to be ripped apart by littles who are in fact grown adults. But as I was falling into slumber and allowing myself to fall, with my head resting in my lap, my head turned towards a separate pile of files on the other side of the room—I realized I really wanted to know how this was possible. There was so much I needed to know. Why did eight-year-old Eleanor Summers have a file where here birthday dated back to 1979? Why had supposedly innocent sugary snacks turned our adorable littles into mini psychopaths?
These kids were not kids, somehow. But how? How was that even possible? Could it be that the files were wrong?
1979 was definitely 45.
But Eleanor Summers couldn’t be 45 years old. I knew what 45 looked like. I knew that they thought like. They spent half of their time on Facebook laughing at outdated memes, and the other half… I don’t know, working? They have job’s! They’re happily married with kids, maybe soon grandkids! That was not Eleanor Summers. Because Eleanor Summers was most definitely eight years old. I had played several rounds of teddy-bears picnic, and spent hours reassuring her that Harry's ghost stories were in fact not real, enough times for me to know that this little kid was little—and a kid.
But something was bothering me. More than the secret military bunker, and magic age-regressing animal crackers. When I first signed up to Camp Redwood, one of the tag-lines to gain attraction had been, “Solve mysteries in the woods in the dead of night, with nothing but a flashlight and your fellow campers!” I had no idea I would be solving this thing on my own, trapped inside a bunker.
“What are you doing?” Rowan, who was still looking through Allison’s dinosaur laptop, turned to me with half lidded eyes, when I slowly got to my feet, careful not to make too much noise, and crept over to the pile of separate files which seemed to be crumbling apart from age. He kept his voice low, but it sounded almost like a whine. He could have been scared, but from the way he was sitting, cross-legged with a frowny face, I figured something must have been going on with him. The guy looked tired. More tired than normal.
The bags under his eyes were practically shadowing his face, and were an odd contrast to unusually ashy colored cheeks and slightly dilated eyes. Still though, Rowan refused to look vulnerable. I caught glimpse of Harry’s raybans sitting on his head, pinning back thick dark brown curls from falling in front of sleepy eyes. Maybe he was finally losing his cool and breaking out of the well-constructed façade he had been hiding behind since Teddy disappeared.
We had just narrowly escaped a crowd of psycho littles high on age-regressing sugary snacks who were doing who-the-fuck knows to the other counselors who had been captured, so I didn’t blame him looking like that. I guess he couldn’t look me in the eye, because in Rowan’s mind, he was the reason why this happened. He was the leader, and the camp had fallen to psychopathic little eight year olds who had taken half of the counselors hostage, and the other half—most likely taken apart in the physical sense, after what we had witnessed in Cassie’s cabin. Still though, it wasn’t Rowan’s fault. He could sit there and pull a face all he wanted, it’s not like I was going to blow up at him for getting us stuck down here. He actually saved us.
And trapped us, judging from the footsteps upstairs, Carmel and Harry still bouncing around looking for us.
It was a game in their heads. The little’s thought it was cat and mouse. Harry and Carmel were the oblivious cats prowling, while we were the mice, hoping to fucking GOD we weren’t caught and eaten. Ignoring Rowan, I glimpsed what looked like a box full of DVD’S—all of which were labelled with dates and names. I saw familiar ones, my heart racing into my throat. Phoebe. Eli. Cassandra.
Each DVD had one of the kid’s names scribbled on the front, as well as a date.
I found Eleanor’s right at the back of the box.
Eleanor Summers.
08/05/2021. (PM)
Before I could hesitate and think what I was doing, I slid the DVD into the portable player attached to the MacBook. Rowan, to my surprise, didn’t move. But he did make an acknowledging noise when the screen flickered to what looked like video footage. Peering at the screen, I found myself staring at a small white room. There was no door. Only a wooden desk and a chair, and sitting on it was a middle aged woman with dark blonde curls tied into a strict ponytail. She was wearing what looked like a prison jumpsuit.
Her eyes were eerily glued to the camera, unblinking. Her wrists were cuffed in front of her. Though from the look on her face, she saw the restraints as a game. Her eyes lit up with intrigue and I could practically see the cogs in her mind starting to turn as she struggled with them.
As soon as I saw this woman, I felt all of my nerve endings set alight. I wanted to turn the screen off, or look away. But once I was looking at the screen, I couldn’t bring myself to tear my eyes away. “Let’s try this again.” There was a woman offscreen. She sounded young. Too young to be in that kind of authority. I figured there was no way teenagers were being hired as special ops agents, but I guessed I was wrong. She cleared her throat. “It is 4:35 exactly. August 5th 2021. My name is Agent Lemrac,” she stated. “I am asking once again for you to comply with us. As I have said several times, the court are willing to lessen your sentence if you plead guilty with insanity.”
The woman surprised me with a snorting laugh. She seemed to come alive, leaning forward with animated features, her brow reaching her hairline. She was acting like a child, bouncing up and down in the seat, her lips stretching into a wider grin. “What did you just say?”
There was a pause. I could tell the woman was intentionally antagonising the interviewer.
“It means you have been legally declared insane,” the interviewer stumbled over her words slightly. “Mrs Summers, it would be in your best interest to work with us to lessen your current sentence which at the moment is standing at,” the sounds of shuffling paper crackled through the speakers. The interviewer cleared her throat again rustling paper. “Thirty six years. Without parole.”
The woman didn’t speak, only continued to smile—and the interviewer delved further into the sentence. “If you do in fact plead guilty with declared insanity, you will be sentenced to a program which is in the process of supporting and rehabilitating people with your…” she caught herself for a moment. I could tell this interviewer had a biased opinion and it was definitely showing through her interviewing style. I could hear the rapid intakes of her breath as she hurried through what seemed to be a script she was reading from. “Conditions.” She finished. “The Redwood program aims to help people exactly like you.”
Redwood? I thought.
Like… Camp Redwood?
Rowan whistled behind me. I guess I could call that a reaction. The guy was probably still in shock after seeing Café de Teddy splattered all over little Cassie’s cabin floor. I should have known those little bitches weren’t playing Operation for eight hours straight. Turning my attention from Rowan and back to the screen, the woman in the jumpsuit appeared to have changed tactics. Her expression twisted into nonchalance. She leaned back in her chair. “I am not pleading insane because I am not insane.”
“Mrs Summers—”
The woman cut her off. “I am not crazy.” She raised her hands “I am doing what needs to be done.” She leaned forward. “Humanity suffers in the skin. We age and die— and how is that fair? What if we want to see the next millennium? And the next two millennia after that? Why should our bodies dictate our lifespan? Why should we sit here and wait to rot and wither and die when we have the intelligence and mindset to do it? If nobody else is willing to throw ethics aside to take a step forwards in human evolution, I should do it myself.” She folded her arms across her chest, again, like a child. “I did what was to be done.”
“Dr. Summers.” The interviewer’s tone grew stiff. “You and your colleagues conducted illegal and unethical procedures on your family and friends—as well as four other victims.”
The woman inclined her head. “You have a daughter, am I correct? I have a son.”
“A child you killed, Dr Summers.” The interviewer retorted in a hiss which was definitely expressing emotion. She ignored the mention of her daughter, but I could tell it had rattled her to her core. Her voice had cracked. This case was close to her.
That was obvious. Without seeing the interviewer herself, I could sense how uncomfortable she was, shuffling in the chair. Every so often I would hear the sound of her rubbing her hands on her knees and tapping her shoe against the chair leg. She oozed anxiety, not just from her tone of voice, but the way the frame seemed to move with her. “Dr. Summers, you used your son in your research, along with several of his friends. This was not science.” Her voice shook. I heard her sharp inhale. Unprofessional, but very human. Instead of staying stoic and keeping to script, this agent was cracking apart. “It was murder.”
“Agent Lemrac, concentrate on the interview only.” An official voice crackled through what sounded like an intercom on screen.
“Got it.” She spoke through her teeth.
The woman was finding wounds and pressing on them. She was scanning the interviewer for vulnerabilities and preying on every insecurity. She leaned back speaking through a sigh. “Without my son’s sacrifice we wouldn’t have created an answer to death. To growing old and dying, and leaving loved ones behind.” Her voice softened into a murmur, but I didn’t trust it.
After identifying the shattering pieces of this interviewer which were very clear visible in her view, the woman was taking advantage.
“Agent Lemrac, you have a daughter. Am I correct in saying her name is Mari?
“That… that is not relevant.”
“Glioblastoma.” Dr. Summers lips curved into a sickening smile hidden behind mocking sympathy. “A sickness of the brain--which, unfortunately, I cannot fix. If your daughter’s brain was in my hands, I would try. However, not even a brand new body would help her. One which would never age or grow sick. And for that, I am deeply, deeply sorry.” She reached her cuffed hands forwards. “My condolences, Agent Lemrac. Honestly. I have to hand it to you. You are incredibly brave for coming here today and talking to me while abandoning your sick child.” She shook her head.
“Your daughter is dying of an incurable illness, suffering inside fragile skin which will break and fall apart and be unable to keep her standing for much longer. While my son will live on forever. He will see every millennia, a planet which will crumble and build itself back together. And maybe the end of the universe itself.” There was a twitch in her expression and a glitter in her eye I did not recognise. Insanity.
She was fucking insane. I was seeing the pure of it, the depraved and disgusting gleam in eyes empty of remorse and regret. This woman did not care what she had done. I could tell from the look on her face. If she had the chance, she would do this again.
But there was no way they were trying to say her cruelty and complete disregard for her son’s life was due to insanity.
“You are sick, Dr. Summers.” The interviewer said after a moment of gathering herself.
The woman shook her head with a chuckle. “I told you. I am not sick--”
“Sick in the head!” The interviewer’s voice exploded through the speakers in a shriek—a terrified cry she had been trying to hold in. I finally saw her—or at least the back of her. She was a young woman with light blonde hair falling loose on her shoulders. She was trembling. Slamming her hands down on the table, she screamed at the orange jumpsuit woman.
“You are psychologically fucked in the head! You psycho bitch! That is my sister!” She spoke through strangled sobs rattling her whole body. “Mari is my little sister. She is not my child.”
Her breaths were strangled and harboured. I noticed figures looming in the background, but she was continuing. “You killed your own fucking son,” she spat. “You are not legally insane, you are sick!” she shrieked. “You planned and put this together! You sit there and you talk about your son like he’s a… like he’s a tool! You deserve to rot. Do you hear me?” I noticed the orange jumpsuit woman was still smiling, satisfied with the interview’s reaction. Her words were spoken in a vicious poison as she leaned forward and spat directly in orange jumpsuit’s face.
“Agent Lemrac!” Whoever her superiors were—were panicking. “I told you not to turn it off. I knew this was going to happen. Can we stop the demonstration, please? Human emotions present inside an Aceville soldier are too powerful—"
Voices were murmuring in the background, and Agent Lemrac raised her hands. “I want to stop.” She choked out, her hands trembling. She spoke like she still had control over the situation and wasn’t being apprehended. “I want to stop. Do you hear me?” The interviewer was crying, I realized. “Stop the recording! I can’t do this. Oh god, I think I’m going to be sick—”
When the footage ended in a burst of static, I found myself backing away, something slimy creeping its way up my throat.
The woman in the orange jumpsuit who had murdered her son and countless others in what sounded like an attempt at playing god, was Eleanor Summers. I thought back to Teddy’s corpse, and the surgical precision of every organ’s removal. The young interviewer had mentioned colleagues of Eleanor.
Was it possible that Camp Redwood was in fact nothing more than a rehabilitation camp for murderous criminals? There was a loud bang from above, and I was torn from my thoughts.
I turned to Rowan, who had been unusually quiet. And I realized why, when I twisted around to find him three inches from my face, his laboured breath tickling my cheek.
The boy jumped back with a chuckle—like me noticing him was some kind of game, before diving back into the chair. I did notice something odd, as my thoughts spiralled. Rowan couldn’t sit still. Slumped in the leather spinning chair, he fingers tapped a rhythm on the armrests while his feet jumped up and down. In the dim light of the bunker, I glimpsed a sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead and the flesh of his neck. He looked to be… feverish—and now that I was looking at him properly, all of my attention on the boy, I noticed small things which seemed… off about him.
For one, he wasn’t coming up with a plan. Rowan always had a plan. Even if he wasn’t completely sure of it, or was completely winging it. This time though, he was strangely quiet. I found my voice when he stuck out his tongue at me. “What are you looking at?”
“Rowan.” I spoke softly, careful not to garner attention from above us where Harry and Carmel were still clamouring around, playing games. “Are you… feeling okay?” I asked, when he turned back to the laptop, manically biting his fingernails.
“I dunnnooooo, Josie! Am I feeeeeeling okaaaaaayyyyy?” He surprised me with an uncharacteristic laugh.
But I did know it.
I knew it from earlier when he reacted to Allison’s bunker and I had been too freaked out to realize that I was dragging along the enemy with me.
Because the fucking idiot had consumed animal crackers. I had seen him for myself earlier, pouring a pack into his mouth for a snack. Which meant either the ‘kids’ had intentionally dosed him with mind altering sugary snacks, or the more likely, he could not resist those preservatives which was the equivalent of caffeine. It’s not like I could blame him when he harboured the weight of an entire camp, but come on, did he really have to sacrifice his own fucking mind to keep himself awake?
Rowan wasn’t just biting. His nails. He was gnawing. Which he previously thought was a filthy habit. He had yelled at a camper for chewing on her nails a few days earlier.
Now that I was noticing it, I couldn’t… stop noticing it. The boy’s whole demeanour had changed; the way he was sinking into the chair, instead of sitting up straight like usual—- I used to call it having a stick up his ass. The boy started typing on the laptop, ignoring me. But when I watched the pattern of his fingers, he was just typing gibberish. Footsteps pounded above us, Harry and Carmel acting as the kid’s’ brainwashed foot-soldiers. Or, more likely somehow, if the animal crackers had caused the littles, or I guess, the fully grown forty year old criminals, to relapse in age-- then maybe it was possible for the same thing to happen to us. To Rowan.
I could feel myself starting to back away, but there was nowhere to run. I just slammed into a cupboard. My gaze flicked to Rowan again, who was tapping a beat on the laptop tracking pad, swaying back and forth, his eyes elsewhere before his gaze found mine. “Marcoooooo!” Harry shouted from above, giggling with Carmel.
I had to guess their mental age had to be at least 8-10 years old. Which meant I wasn’t just dealing with a camp full of forty-year-old psycho’s, I was also dealing with mentally relapsed counselors acting like toddlers.
Rowan seemed to jolt in the chair, twisting his head around, his eyes suddenly incredibly childlike and playful, and very Un-Rowan, were finding the ceiling, his mouth stretching into a smile, like he was seeing butterflies. His eyes flashed to me, and I caught a twitch in his lip. I knew that look. It was the look on my seven year old sister, who knew mom was mad at me, and wanted to make it even worse.
His cheeks were starting to blossom scarlet from what must have been the overwhelming urge to laugh. Rowan pressed his lips together and held in a breath like a hamster, and the asshole was fucking with me. Waiting for me to beat him to it by accident. Kids were fucking ruthless, but there was something terrifying about an 18 year old with a little kid’s mind.
I lifted my index to my lips, miming for him not to even try, but the boy just mimicked me, bugging out his eyes and pressing his finger to his grinning mouth. “Don’t you fucking dare.” I managed to whisper. The boy was definitely playing his own game, moving in twitching movements, baiting me. When he cupped his mouth, I almost let out a cry, but then he dropped his arms with a giggle, as if to say, “I’m just kidding!”
Slowly, I turned around, grabbed the salt I’d found in Allison’s cupboard, and a flat can of soda. Without making too much movement, I poured a handful of salt into the can. But Rowan seemed to know exactly what I was doing. Because in the time it was taking me to advance towards him with the can of salty soda, one arm shakily ready to grab hold of him, and put him into a headlock, he was cupping his mouth, all logic and everything adult, everything he had been as our leader, igniting in playful eyes, leaving me the last one standing.
“Pollloooooo!”
By the time Rowan had managed to reveal our hiding place in a spluttered laugh, I had hold of the squirming boy, one arm wrapped around his neck, my other forcing the can of soda into his mouth. I had definitely miscalculated his strength. During camp Redwood activities, he was always the last one to come back from the trail, holding his knees and panting. I figured he was unfit. However, I was wrong. Underneath his shirt, the guy had some serious muscles.
It was like attacking a brick wall. However, Rowan was mentally a kid. So, I had my intelligence and logic on my side. When it became obvious I wasn’t going to get anywhere with brute strength, I resorted to tickling him, which made him squirm, squeaking out a laugh. When he opened his mouth to yell at me to stop, I took my chance, thrusting the can into his lips and holding his nose so he swallowed it down.
“No!” His laughter turned into muffled yelling, as he batted his fists at my chest. “No, no, no! Get off, get off!”
His body convulsed as the salt did its job, causing the boy to lurch to his knees and choke up forbidden animal crackers in a gooish sludge which turned my stomach. By the time Rowan seemed half himself and half not, still kneeling, his head pressed against the floor, Harry was poking his head through the door with a goonish grin. “Found you!” He giggled, before forcing the door open, allowing Carmel and Callen, freshly caught and mentally turned into littles, to advance down the stairs with equally terrifying grins. There was something wrong with Harry’s face, and I only realized it when the guy himself was hauling me from the bunker, Carmel dragging a barely responsive Rowan. There was nothing in Harry’s expression, only blind childish excitement at winning the game. When he dragged me out of Allison’s cabin and threw me to the ground, I realized he too had insane strength I had not been expecting. But that thought quickly retracted when I was seeing his face in the light of a crescent moon lighting up the sky an eerie glow. Harry’s cheeks were puffy and swollen, his right eye way bigger than it should have been.
When he spoke, his voice was more of a lisp. This was something far more realistic than magical animal crackers fucking with his brain.
“He needs help!” I managed to choke out when Carmel wrapped jump-rope around my wrists. Next to me, Rowan was refusing to get up, still choking up salty soda, groaning into his hands. Every time Callen tried to restrain him, he hissed out like an animal.
“Do you hear me?!” I struggled violently. “Harry needs—”
BANG.
Is what it felt like. The feeling of something—what felt and sounded like a toy car—colliding with my temples, sent me onto the ground, my head spinning itself off of its axis. I remember lying on my back and frowning at the moon which almost looked like it was getting closer to me, blurring into a white ball of light—before reality sunk in, and it was in fact Carmel’s converse coming down to finish me off. I didn’t stay knocked out for long. But I did dream.
I think you can call it a dream? I was lying in bed at home; my room drowned in the dark. I was cosy, curled up in my blankets, when a clammy hand slammed over my mouth, rousing me from slumber. There were two figures in my room. They didn’t have faces. They just existed as shadows, silhouettes. Before one of them raised something above their head, and… impact.
It was the same impact as the toy car hitting me, snapping me back to that night. It wasn’t a dream. Because I remembered his clammy fingers over my mouth, and his hisses for me to shut up as he dragged me from my room.
My parents stood in front of me with expressions of sympathy. Basked in warm light, my mom and dad looked almost otherworldly. “For the best.” Was what they mouthed when my own phantom screams slammed into me. I asked them why, and they didn’t reply, allowing him to pull me further and further from what I knew, from my life as I knew it. But.. that couldn’t be real. I had memories of getting on the bus to camp Redwood. I could recall the whole journey. So, why… why was my tangled mind saying otherwise?
When I gathered myself, the first thing I realized was I was sitting down. I was outside, cool night air grazing my bare arms. There was something attached to me, jerking violently, And it took me several disorientating blinks to understand that I was tied back to back with Rowan. My head pounded, and something wet and warm dripped down my temple. Great. I could add head injury to the long list of things to worry about.
“Let me go you little fucking witch.”
Rowan was back to himself, though from the muffled hissing and the sound of choking—I had to guess he was being force-fed animal crackers.
“Let me—mpphmmm. little…. fucking… mphmmphhmhppmm!”
“Rowan.” I managed to get out in a croak. Through flickering eyes, I caught glimpse of a familiar figure dancing around us. Shivers rocketed down my spine, and I wrenched at the jump-rope restraints, but they did a surprisingly job of restraining my arms behind my back.
Eleanor was with Rowan, while Eli was knelt in front of me. Looking at him, the boy had definitely aged in the face—and I couldn’t help wondering what exactly he had done as a forty something year old to be sent to this place.
“Josie!” Rowan responded in a wail. “Josie. Wake the FUCK up.”
“Stop swearing.”
Eleanor spoke with the cold tone of her actual age.
“Oh, yeah?” Rowan spluttered. “Fuck you.” The boy’s laugh was still rough from almost vomiting his insides out from too much salt intake. “I’m sorry, you were a fucking boomer all along?!” He wriggled in the restraints, lunging forwards, which sent me backwards.
“Stop swearing, Rowan.” Was all the girl responded with calmly.
“Like I’m going to listen to you!” He sneered. “Fuck, fuck, fuckity, fucking fuck!” What are you going to do, huh? Bite me with your false teeth?” The sound of saliva hitting skin made me wince. He was pissed. I had no doubt his completely rational anger was going to get us killed. Rowan was also somehow getting mixed up between forty and eighty. Though he was unwillingly snacking on mind bending sugary goodness.
“Fudge, Rowan.” Eleanor spoke in a giggle.
“What?!”
“Say fudge. Not fuck.”
“No.”
His hiss of pain caught me off guard. I don’t know what she was doing to him, but it was hurting him.
“You fudging fudge! I’m going to fudging kill you when I get out of these fudging ropes—“ his manic cursing became a muffled yell.
“Say fudge,” Eleanor hummed, followed by his hiss when the palm of her hand skinned his cheek. “Fuck is a bad word. You even said so yourself and you’re my favourite counselor.”
He heaved out a breath.
“You fudge,” Rowan spat. “When I get out of this, I am going to fudging kill you, you fudging—” His manic ranting morphed, once again, into muffled yelling, after another fistful of animal crackers were forced into his mouth. When I risked twisting around, I could see his rebellion slowly starting to simmer out as he relaxed slightly. I wanted to yell at him to keep a clear head before cold fingers were dipping under my chin and forcing my head around where I found myself face to face with Eli.
“I like you, Josie,” he said, before untying me and pulling me to my feet. Now at the age of nine or ten, he was a lot stronger. When I tried to pull away, the cruel blade of a knife grazed my gut. I caught his grin. “But we don’t need you.” Eli pointed to Rowan.
“We just want them.”
I followed his pointer finger which went from Rowan to Harry and Carmel, who were just standing there like fucking idiots, probably awaiting the next game. Harry’s face was getting redder. It looked like he was suffocating, and yet his grin was growing wider and wider, splitting his lips apart. “Rowan Atlas.” Eleanor said, dragging him to his feet. Something was stapled to his forehead head, which caused him to howl in pain, hissing another strangled line of “Fudge”. but I couldn’t read what it was.
“Camp leader. Intelligent, and problem solving skills.”
“Harry Carlisle.” Eli nodded his head with a smile. “Quick thinker. Strong minded.”
“Carmel Locke.” Cassie spoke behind me. She had her arms folded, a wry smile on her lips. “Smarter than she makes out—- an independent learner, and can work well under pressure.”
Looking at these kids, I felt sick to my stomach. They were planning something—and had the intelligence of renowned scientists, which was what I gathered from the footage on the MacBook. “What?” was all I could hiss out, as Eli prodded the blade of the knife into my back, ushering me to walk. “What are you talking about?”
“Duh.” He spoke in a more tweeny giggle. “Like I said, Miss Josie. You’re my favorite counselor but we don’t need you, so I’m going to use you for parts.” He laughed when a shiver spiderwebbed down my spine. “See! I told you I was going to show you my collection!”
“But… what do you need them for?”
Eli pressed his index finger to his lips with a laugh before forcing me to face forwards. “That’s a secret!”
When I didn’t, or couldn’t move, he shoved me into a stumbling power-walk, and I managed to turn my head quickly, making feverish eye contact with Rowan.
“Rowan.” I said calmly through the gutter in my throat. “Get…. Get help.”
If I was going to die, I needed him to get a hold of himself and somehow alert the outside world what was going on.
“From whom, Josie?!” He wailed back—and as I was dragged away, I could once again sense the childish undertones in his voice.
I had no choice but to obey Eli’s orders. If I didn’t want a knife in my back. He took me to the main lunch cabin, which, when I set foot inside, almost sent me to my knees.
Something lurched inside me, and I was screaming with no voice, staggering backwards, only to be shoved onto my face. In front of me was what had been the lunch hall, fully converted into the beginning of a laboratory.
What had been cafeteria tables were fashioned into makeshift gurney’s and beds, and I was looking at all of the missing counselors. Yuri and Noah had been skinned completely, their faces laid out on a makeshift surgical table. Joey had been ripped open, his heart and brain removed, a glittering metallic substance creeping its way across his forehead. It was then when I remembered Eleanor Summers words.
She wanted to prevent death and preserve the human mind. Looking at what was in front of me, this was the start of it. There was equipment I had never seen before. Lily’s body was empty, carved out completely, tubes forced inside her. When I glimpsed her fingers move and begin to ball into a fist, I saw red. I saw fucking red. The exit was so close and yet Eli, fucking Eli, wielded his knife. I think that is when part of me gave up. My brain just stopped. It short circuited. Seeing my friends murdered and yet somehow being kept alive through playing god, my body slumped to the ground. I was numb. Completely numb.
I’m not sure what would have happened if those bloody saws and instruments which had been used on my friends were used on me too.
Luckily, that did not happen. Before Eli could get his slimy hands on me, he crumpled to the ground in an almost cartoon-like fashion, and standing over me was Harry. Who was looking better. When he grasped hold of me and helped me up, I only had one word. “Out.” And he was nodding, his eyes glistening as he drunk in our friends’ fate.
“How?” I managed to sputter out, when we made it out of the cabin, ducking behind a tree. Harry turned to me, motioning for me to shut up. There was a group of now ten to eleven year olds already running around, searching for what I guessed was him.
“I’m allergic to peanut butter,” Harry murmured, his grasp tightening on my wrist as he led me across the camp, the two of us stumbling.
“What, and you just magically healed?”
He didn’t respond to that, which bothered me.
“The bunker is our best shot,” I hissed out. “I think we can get in contact with someone down there.” I paused, unable to stop myself. “What makes you so important?”
“Dunno. Maybe I’m their favorite.”
When we found Allison’s cabin, which was more of a safehouse (an exposed safehouse) I found Rowan sitting on the wooden porch with his legs swinging over the side. “Rowan!” Harry groaned. I found it hard to believe their roles had been switched. Now he was the one yelling at the camp-leader. “I told you to stay inside!”
He ushered the boy inside, before barricading the door with some hefty looking equipment. I could tell from the grin on his face that our so-called leader was once again no longer himself.
I had to bite back a groan. “You’re kidding.” I said, pointing to Rowan, who buried his head in his knees and blew a raspberry. “Does he look and act like our leader right now?!”
“It’s Rowan, Josie.”
“He’s a liability.”
“He’s our friend! Wouldn’t Rowan do the same?”
Yes, he would. But. He would also realize we’re lost causes.
“Gag him with something.” I said. “If he makes any more noise, we’re dumping him.”
“He’s a kid!”
“Just the mind of one.”
I don’t know how animal crackers worked, but his age seemed to be progressively younger. This time he just sat with wide eyes watching us.
Harry almost tore apart the place looking for means of communication, before an old fashioned ringing sound made me jump.
“What was that?” Harry turned to me with his lip curled.
“How am I supposed to know?!” I hissed. “Keep looking!” But when I ducked under the table, my hands crawled under the desk, finding a wire—and attached to that, an ancient looking phone which looked straight out of a 1940’s movie, a bright green rotary phone.
Hesitantly, I answered it, lifting the phone to my ear. “Hello?”
“Did you awaken the subjects, Agent Salta?"
The voice on the other end was a woman, an oldish sounding woman with the tinge of a British accent.
“What?” I shot a look at Harry before shaking my head. “No. My name is Josie Greenfield. We’re at Camp Redwood, and we need help.”
The woman paused.
“Where is Agent Salta?” She cleared her throat. “This line is reserved for communication with agents only.”
“I don’t know who the fuck you’re talking about!" I squeaked out. “My name is Josie, and whatever is happening here, we need help!”
“Josie. Did you awaken the subjects?”
I paused after a moment, shooting Harry a look when he tried to take the phone off of me. “Yes.”
“And… are our agents unavailable?”
“I don’t understand.”
“When a health and safety breach is activated, our agents are awakened to deal with the Project Spearhead subjects if they were to ever go rogue, or become conscious enough to think. Josie, can you tell me what is in front of you? Describe it to me.”
I held my breath. Next to the hidden phone under the desk was what looked like mismatched wires, all of which had been severed. I lowered myself slowly, poking at mess. “Wires. I see… cut up wires.” I whispered. “Does this mean they know about you?”
She hummed. “Ah…That makes sense. The only way to activate our sleeper handlers would be to send out the signal. You appear to have been sabotaged. Unless activated manually, our agents cannot help you. I am sorry. They are your problem now.” The woman paused.
“If I were you, I would hope and pray they have not sabotaged the self-destruct. If you find that, then you may be able to save yourselves and find peace.” She cleared her throat. “Thank you for your service, Josie Greenfield.”
“Wait.” I managed to get out. “Wait, no! You can’t just… you can’t leave us! We need help!”
I found myself yelling at nothing when the phone went dead. The dull tone of the dead ringtone was clanging in my ears before footsteps from up above. “Fuck this.” Harry picked up a lead pipe. “They’re still little kids, right? I mean, their head must still be partly kids—- so let’s fucking beat their heads in.”
He noticed something, then, starting forwards towards the mess of files I had left earlier. Harry knelt on the ground and picked up Eli’s file, his eyes wide. But he wasn’t staring at the dates confirming the little boy’s age.
Instead, Harry pointed at the bottom of the file. “I don’t want to freak you out, Josie,” he whispered. Initially, I didn’t know what he was trying to show before I glimpsed notes scrawled at the bottom of the file, followed by a signature. “But I’m pretty sure that is my fucking writing.”
Harry was right.
I pulled the paperwork off of him, flicking through each file before turning my eyes to him. “Who the fuck are you?”
A clanging sound from above broke the tension, and whatever Harry was about to reply with was strangled in his throat. He slammed a hand over his mouth.
“Guys?”
The voice twisted me up inside, threatening to release a shriek from my mouth I had managed to clamp shut.
Teddy.
“Are you down here?” His voice was strained, and had an odd tone to it. “I can’t… I can’t see you.”
…
Can someone please tell me what the fuck is going on?! It’s been a blur of a week. We’ve managed to stay down here, surviving off of Allison’s rations. Rowan isn’t getting any better. He seems to have stopped mentally de-ageing at the age of maybe six. Harry has spent the last few days trying to get in contact with anyone, but it’s like they are IGNORING US.
I’ve been looking through everything I can find on Project Spearhead, but nothing points to Harry being involved. So. How is his signature all over the files? How is it possible that two friends I thought I knew several days ago, are now complete strangers?
Teddy keeps coming back.
He’s crying out to us.
I think he’s… in pain.
My god, I can’t stand this anymore. Please. CAMP REDWOOD NEEDS HELP.

or if anyone has suggestions for how to deal with lack of tolerance in social situations,, open to that too
atp my masking skills have regressed and the aftermath of a social interaction involves either a period of emotional coma (had to high-mask) and total withdrawal or a rude/unpleasant outburst (inconsequential interactions, didn’t need to mask). Ideally I’d like to work an 8 hour day somewhere with my headphones on or with animals and very little people
*was in the middle of a bachelors degree but can’t continue until I deal with some other stuff, do plan to go back
thanks :)

About my apology: I’m all done apologizing for reacting so inappropriately after this. I’ve said over and over it was an overreaction and it was cause I took personally something I shouldn’t have. So if that wasn’t clear before I hope it is now. I literally can’t keep on apologizing. I took accountability and was even criticized by some for how I did that. I fucked up. I said I did, and I shouldn’t have. I expressed knew why. I also expressed that my idea of apologizing is to say what you did wrong and to acknowledge you know why you did it so you can work on not letting it happen again. Idk how many times I said it and I can’t anymore. You don’t have to believe me but you also can’t call me out my name here. I was open and honest and it was a sincere expression of remorse and regret.
About why I deleted the post: First of all, regret and shame. I made a mistake. I deleted it because it isn’t representative of who I am as a person anymore. It was a very temporary lack of judgement and a regression in my mental health condition…on which I do not need advice nor judgement. I never asked for either and received both. Appreciate those that had good intent but I’m pretty good at being aware of when someone is judging me but trying to mask it with advice. Im quite alright though. I have been in therapy a long time and sometimes these things happen but I when I came back to reality, I wanted it gone because while it came out of me yesterday and certainly I have irrational reactions in my past, I have done tons of work to learn control that so I represent myself differently to the world. I still took accountability and apologized after deleting. Over and over. I didn’t delete to pretend it didn’t happen. I deleted it because I dont like how I look when I behave inappropriately. I have worked way too hard to leave reminders up for everyone and myself of how badly I can react when I don’t remember to take a beat. This was the first outburst I have had in years. Yet another reason assumptions treatment were not appreciated. Well meaning advice, of course I can appreciate it. But it wasn’t all well meaning. I know what judgement looks like even when masked by “coping tips”. It’s been a decade, I have a pretty decent toolbox by now and the internet's advice for me so far is already in place, and then some. I will be addressing this outburst in therapy of course, I’m not deleting it to run away. I’m deleting it because it’s not how I feel. Who I am. the internet doesn't get to decide my mental state or my motivations. However you can always ask privately, I'm very open when people respectfully give me the courtesy of not assuming and a chance to confirm or clarify!
Why I turned off comments: simply put, they got nasty. I was accused of turning them off so as to (I think) not face the music anymore when i realized i was wrong. In fact, the reason they were turned off is cause the person who accused me of that was being called names. I turned it off for THEM. I didn’t agree with a word of what he said but that’s okay with me. It was assumed by them I was name calling but nope. I tried to disagree with respect. This person earned themselves a ban eventually, and is why I’m specifically addressing this. Ban was not for spreading bad information and ignoring fact, or having comments some might call “opinions” but I do not believe those ideas to be based in objective fact so it’s not an opinion imo. I removed some comments of theirs but also kept up others and removed others directed at them…but the reason comments were ultimately just turned off completely? Because he was being called nasty things and whether or not I agreed with those things was irrelevant. I then started scrolling through the rest of the comments and some were productive but most were not.
I did not turn them off for myself, I did it because I set a shitty tone for the post and the behavior in the comments reflected that. It was just out of hand and there was zero reason to let it continue. We are all better than that, and for the shitty tone that I set for the post I apologize. It’s my fault the comments got bad but that doesn’t mean that’s why I turned them off. The person who set the tone isn’t fully to blame for what grown ass people say, including this person. Which brings me back to the ban. I have a feeling that they may claim I banned them due to bias. Not true. I banned them because of their assumptive and disrespectful message to me that he punctuated by calling me a bigot. It was only then that I stopped trying to respectfully disagree. I hope this person doesn’t put me on blast but I do want to get a jump on it because I feel they may be the salty type due to our interactions. The ban was earned for being assumptive about my motivations for all of the above, saying I was name calling…I only name called after I was assumed to have selfish motives (don’t assume. Ask. I will be honest always) and then calling me a bigot is finally when I banned. I do believe they have blocked me which is just fine.
But this is Mike’s business and to protect it (he’s had nothing to do with any of this) I did want to clarify what I was accused of in case I get put on blast with his lies about what happened.

again, I very much regret how I overreacted and behaved in a way that doesn’t represent the person that I have grown into. I really hope you guys don’t lose respect for me for a mistake I wish I didn’t make but I did and here we are.

This post is only happening in case this guy makes public the accusations he just made privately, I had no intention of posting about this anymore…but if any of you would like to reach out privately I will absolutely discuss openly and honestly. Just ask! don’t assume please! I’m done apologizing though, I hope y’all understand it was a lapse in judgment and trust that my past is a way better indicator of who l am than this post is. I have apologized and explained (vulnerably) quite enough I think and hope it’s accepted and like…this can be done. I feel I’m beating a dead horse through. Sorry for the drama, shows over lol
^{I do, however, stand by my original “happy pride” post. Pride is happy for me, and it’s my first one fully and openly out actually. So like. Yeah. Hope you guys can let me show you that I’m better than how I reacted yesterday.}

My boy is 5 months old. From birth he was a fantastic sleeper and would go into the cot/bassinet with no problems whatsoever at night. But for the past month and a half this has all gone totally to shit. At the risk of sounding like I’m bragging - I used to be able to put him down half-asleep and he’d just go the rest of the way out, if he woke in the night it’d almost certainly be because of hunger so after a feed he’d be back asleep. But now, when I think I’ve got him back to sleep and try to put him in the cot he either pops awake and stays awake for another hour, or screams like he’s hit cold water and not the mattress he’s slept on virtually every day of his life. That combined with middle of the night wakeups which are really inconsistent in what he wants (sometimes definitely feeding, sometimes just rocking back to sleep) are sending me around the bend. He’s also started grabbing at my neck when he’s fussing which I don’t enjoy in the day but at night sets my teeth totally on edge.
I just don’t know what I can do for him to get him past this stage, and it’s really starting to wear on me. I know this is probably just the 4 month regression and it’ll pass but please god someone tell me this change in his sleep habits from newborn to normal isn’t going to be like this forever 😓

Timestamp: https://imgur.com/a/fToOR9s
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In my opinion the best year as year 1 would be 3000 BC, which corresponds almost perfectly to the following turning points:
• Beginning of the Sumerian civilization, invention of the cuneiform script,
• Beginning of the Egyptian civilization,
• Beginning of the Indus Valley civilization,
• Beginning of the long count of the Mayan calendar (3114 BC),
• Beginning of the Kali Yuga era in India (3102 BC).
Therefore not only are all ancient dates positive, but the numbers are more bearable than the typical Anno Mundi or masonic Anno Lucis start like 4000 BC, 5500 BC or Human Era in 10000 BC. Also this calendar contains 0 year (3001 BC), 3002 BC would be −1 etc. There would be also 0th century (−99 to 0, =31st century BC), −1st century (−199 to −100, =32nd century BC) etc. the same rule for millenniums.
Thus we would now have the year 5023, 51st century, 6th millennium. Selected dates:
~ −6700 ​​– beginning of the Holocene
–2508 – beginning of the Byzantine era
−1003 – 1 Anno Mundi according to James Ussher
~ –1000 – beginning of the Uruk period in Mesopotamia
−760 – beginning of the Jewish calendar
~ –300 – beginning of the Bronze Age, pictographs invented in Sumer
−113 – beginning of the Mayan calendar (long count)
−101 – beginning of the Kali Yuga era
−100 – 100 – begining of Old Kingdom of Egypt, 1st dynasty
−100 – 100 – Jemdet Nasr period in Sumer
~ 200 – syllabic writing invented in Sumer
~ 250 – rule of Gilgamesh
441 – completion of the Cheops pyramid
451 – completion of the Sphinx
667 – rising of Akkadian Empire
945 – begining of Middle Kingdom of Egypt
970 – completion of Ziggurat of Ur
977 – destroying of Ur
~ 1150 – invention of Proto-Sinaitic alphabet
1209 – the reign of Hammurabi begins
1235 – beginning of Shang dynasty in China
1300 – invention of linear script in Crete
1450 – beginning of New Kingdom of Egypt
~ 1500 – beginning of the Iron Age (Hittites)
1817 – the fall of Troy
1900 – invention of Phoenician alphabet
1959 – the reign of Saul begins
1991 – the reign of David begins
2030 – the reign of Salomon begins
2225 – the first Olympiad
2248 – founding of Rome
2457 – beginning of Buddhist Era
2492 – Rome becomes republic
2511 – Battle of Marathon
2665 – the reign of Alexander the Great begins
2678 – death of Alexander the Great
2737–2855 – Punic Wars
2928–2930 – War of Spartacus
2957 – Julius Caesar's assassination
3000 – Jesus Christ is born (according to Dionysius Exiguus)
3030 – Jesus Christ dies
3043 – London founded
3079 – eruption of Vesuvius
3393 – last Ancient Olympic Games
3395 – split of Roman Empire into East and West
3476 – fall of the Western Roman Empire
3622 – the beginning of the Muslim era
3800 – Charlemagne's coronation as West Roman emperor
3843 – Treaty of Verdun
4000 – Congress of Gniezno
4206 – Mongolian Empire founded
4453 – fall of Constantinople
4455 – Gutenberg Bible is printed
4492 – Columbus' trip to America
4582 – introduction of the Gregorian calendar
4776 – United States Declaration of Independence
4896 – the first modern Olympic Games in Athens
4914–4918 – World War I
4939–4945 – World War II
4989 – fall of communism in Central Europe
5022 – start of Russia–Ukraine war

The lack of linear gameplay for me is a big dealbreaker.
Their is no natural progression in loot either. Defeated a boss? Who cares? Here is a blue medallion, whilst an elite can drop a rare, I even found a legendary in one of those cairns.
The mount. I am level 32 and still haven’t got the mount unlocked. How do I do it? Apparently it’s some favour. How do I get to that favour? I don’t know.
The scaling of enemies, is boring. What is the point of loot if no matter what, I can’t be a fucking badass and run through mobs, what’s the point of grinding for better loot if the game scales enemy levels.
I constantly feel the same, I am missing the aspect as the story progresses my loot gets better too, before you shout endgame I am talking from levels 1-50, casual player stuff.
If I don’t have the mount unlocked, why are the objectives so spaced out? Why? I hate the fact that I can go anywhere and the enemies will be well most the same level as me lol
Their is no natural progression to this game it’s not organic at all and doesn’t flow.
End game itself that’s a separate story and a different review is needed.
Overall, this game has been overhyped. Their I say it but I enjoyed D3’s linear gameplay and scaling of enemies.

Here's a list of missions that could be interesting to see in the future , you may have seen of these ideas in other posts .
Mourning Star assault :
If they do event and include unique story mission in those an incredible idea could be to defend the Mourning Star itself from traitors on the inside and boarding crews . It could be great for 2 reason : 1 it would be epic lets face it , 2 it could be an occasion to expand the hub and give it a bit more flavor .
Fatshark has shown that they can , and probably want , to exploit more map elements : Ascender 31 with that whole sequence on the elevator itself is very nice it differs from other arenas and at the end of the mission the hab block with the weird demonic tree at the end there is a valkirye that flies close at some point to blow 2 of the 3 bridges . Expanding on that we could have a very linear but cinematic level with fighting above/under us on passerels while we progress to open the way for a main strike force (always or almost always visible inthe background) .
Characters often remind you that you are doing the dirty job so that regular soldiers can do theirs and not be sacrificed on suicide tasks , it would be nice to actually see it happen during a level .
Extraction (+Assassination of Conspirator) :
A mission set in a palace , smaller scale map where you have to hold against multiple waves while another team extract nobles . While the map would be smaller acting like an arena every wave will open annexe areas resulting in a different interaction and a different side of the map being open (replayability value) . Each wave tasks would end with either a strong elite core or a traitor captain .
Map could also be expanded and repurposed for a seek and destroy kind of mission where you would blast through the palace to find and kill a conspirator working with the traitors for his own benefit , acting like a reverse extraction .
Train assault :
Can be either once again an arena style map where you have to defend a train that needs to reach a target for x reason OR you could be dropped on the train by Valkyrie and fight your way through either emptying its content on another Valk' or having to go through the entire thing to the control cabin to reroute it .
Just the concept of an operation taking place on a high speeding train is just a spectacle in itself and I think it should be something to take into consideration .
Sabotage :
A mission where you have to locate a bridge then proceed to install explosives on a bridge / in a tunnel to collapse it and prevent a full collumn of stolen Leman Russ to exit the city in a last desperate attempt .
Once again importance of the spectacle aspect but in a more "traditional" style of mission .
​
If you have other ideas feel free to share here , since we ain't getting new map soonish probably we can do a bit of speculation/wishlist in the hope to see those things later on .

Desperate for some help during a sleep regression.
My son is 19mo old. He has slept through the night since 4mo with no issues, up until this week.
For background, his routine: Up by 7am Nap usually around 12:30-2:30pm, both at home and at daycare Bedtime starts at 7pm, asleep by 8pm He sleeps in the toddler bed version of this crib. We follow all safe guidelines.
This last week he screams when we place him in his bed. Usually, we place him either asleep or drowsy and he would put himself to sleep quickly. This last week, he screams once his body touches the bed even if he was initially asleep or is drowsy. We tell him it's bed time, pat his back, and shut his door, and he immediately leaves his bed and cries/screams at the door. We follow Ferber and do the 3min, 5min, then 10min increments. Last night we did it from 730-1030 at night. We also have tried patting his back to help him sleep, but as soon as he senses we leave, he wakes up and screams. It's pretty certainly separation anxiety. The only way he fell asleep last night is my husband rubbing his back for 40mins until he was in a deep sleep. This has been the last few nights.
Today he skipped his nap, which is the first time in his life. We tried Ferber, rocking, etc, but he refused to sleep.
He is cutting teeth and recently getting over an ear infection, but I fully believe it's separation anxiety causing this. Three hours of Ferber each night this week of screaming hasn't worked and the only thing that has is rubbing his back for over a half an hour, hovering over his bed, until he is totally asleep.
Any advice would be incredibly welcomed and appreciated!

Desperate for some help during a sleep regression.
My son is 19mo old. He has slept through the night since 4mo with no issues, up until this week.
For background, his routine: Up by 7am Nap usually around 12:30-2:30pm, both at home and at daycare Bedtime starts at 7pm, asleep by 8pm He sleeps in the toddler bed version of this crib. We follow all safe guidelines.
This last week he screams when we place him in his bed. Usually, we place him either asleep or drowsy and he would put himself to sleep quickly. This last week, he screams once his body touches the bed even if he was initially asleep or is drowsy. We tell him it's bed time, pat his back, and shut his door, and he immediately leaves his bed and cries/screams at the door. We follow Ferber and do the 3min, 5min, then 10min increments. Last night we did it from 730-1030 at night. We also have tried patting his back to help him sleep, but as soon as he senses we leave, he wakes up and screams. It's pretty certainly separation anxiety. The only way he fell asleep last night is my husband rubbing his back for 40mins until he was in a deep sleep. This has been the last few nights.
Today he skipped his nap, which is the first time in his life. We tried Ferber, rocking, etc, but he refused to sleep.
He is cutting teeth and recently getting over an ear infection, but I fully believe it's separation anxiety causing this. Three hours of Ferber each night this week of screaming hasn't worked and the only thing that has is rubbing his back for over a half an hour, hovering over his bed, until he is totally asleep.
Any advice would be incredibly welcomed and appreciated!

As a lifelong fan of the franchise, I simply would like to give a huge shout-out to the hardcore “Hyrulian Scientists” out there posting their “peer reviewed” experiments. I am one of the few, lucky enough, to experience the first two titles when they launched as ground breaking experiences on the NES. Breath of the Wild threw me for a loop with weapon and shield deterioration on top of buff food and gear! Now don’t get me wrong, over the years I expanded my gaming library deep into complex RPG’s, but I could always fall back on Nintendo with their linear LoZ experience. Truth be told I felt like I “pushed through” most of BoTW until it finally clicked. It wasn’t until my second play through awaiting ToTK that I fell in love with the new format. Fast forward to today, and I’m absolutely enamored with the direction the franchise has taken. Hopefully, some extremely informed Redditor delivers a backstory, but I am incredibly proud with Nintendo for taking a risk, and completely changing the format. Looking forward to buying the newest system launched to play the newest LoZ for years to come!