Perm rods near me

I've only ever seen one deer with antlers but it was when I just started and had no idea they'd be so elusive. I live in the middle of the map, near the spawn rocks (I don't know if every map is different, pardon me if so).

I can’t do retail because of my mental health issues. I did it for years and many times i had bad episodes while on the job. Really not professional and ultimately lead me to attempts at bad things…
I have a physical disability (EDS) where I’m in pain constantly. I have a genetic condition which affects my joints. I’m currently cleaning but over the last year I’ve had over two months worth of sick days because it’s that bad.
So, any suggestions for a job which i can do with my bad anxiety/mood/autism issues, and isn’t too physically demanding so I’m not crippled to the point i have no life (like at the moment), and that i won’t get fired from for taking too many sick days? I only ever call in sick if i physically can’t get into work.
Please don’t think I’m weak or lazy. I have tried for nearly ten years now and I’m only deteriorating. I hate that I’m unwell. I’m a very motivated person so it’s more frustrating that my body doesn’t fit my mind’s energy.
(Wales, UK)

Hey, I'm Amanda. I've been lurking this subreddit for a few months patiently waiting to see if anyone has a similar issue to mine, I guess not too many.
So a little about myself (20F) I'm from Alabama, currently on * the west coast, I attend college, I *played Vollyball for nearly 7 years. I'm into anime, gaming, trying new foods, and animation.
I've had trouble meeting new people in person, I've been looking for someone to hang out with & have fun with. I've tried sites like Feabie, and Fantasy Feeder. I've had terrible experiences with them, within the first 3 days on those sites. So I've totally deleted my profiles, and I will gladly say I will never return to those sites. As a bigger woman it's hard to feel that someone is really into you & can overlook your size, and like you for whom you are. Which is the reason I decided to go on sites that were dedicated to loving/liking bigger women. So I felt there was no doubt that I would find someone.
Reddit, to me isn't a proper place to look for a genuine connection. I just don't feel that way about Reddit, but I am willing to take the chance.
I have kinks that I feel would run people off, but being fat makes me happy, and I adore My body.
What can I do to find like minded people who share the same desires as I do? Who wont stand me up, won't lead me on, and won't take me as a joke?

I know everyone’s personal experiences differ but I wanted to share mine.
I’m currently on 60mg and have been for 4 weeks. I can’t believe what a difference it has made for me. I personally have had zero side effects although I acknowledge the side effects can be bad for some people.
I just wanted to share my personal experience and the happiness I feel. I didn’t think I was destined to change but this has brought out a rational and calm side of me which I didn’t know existed. Things just don’t bother me nearly as much as before and I can focus on things which truly matter with a calm sense of acceptance and focus. I haven’t felt truly anxious in a few weeks now, whereas anxiety used to be a huge part of my life - daily. Long may it continue!

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I can’t do retail because of my mental health issues. I did it for years and many times i had bad episodes while on the job. Really not professional and ultimately lead me to attempts at bad things…
I have a physical disability where I’m in pain constantly. I have a genetic condition which affects my joints. I’m currently cleaning but over the last year I’ve had over two months worth of sick days because it’s that bad.
So, any suggestions for a job which i can do with my bad anxiety/mood/autism issues, and isn’t too physically demanding so I’m not crippled to the point i have no life (like at the moment), and that i won’t get fired from for taking too many sick days? I only ever call in sick if i physically can’t get into work.
Please don’t think I’m weak or lazy. I have tried for nearly ten years now and I’m only deteriorating. I hate that I’m unwell. I’m a very motivated person so it’s more frustrating that my body doesn’t fit my mind’s energy.
Wales.

it was like 8pm and some guy stopped me on my way home and asked for directions. then he asked if there was a dentist nearby??? and i said that if there were dentists i’m pretty sure they’d be closed. he asks me if dentists deal with tongue related issues and i said i don’t think so and then he stuck his tongue out at me and asked if it looked normal (it did).
i only realised it might be shady because his hands were near his crotch region the entire time. and he was looking around a lot, saying he was sorry for wasting my time, but then kept asking dumb questions that made no sense. like he has google he can search these questions himself.
what do i do?? i feel kinda weirded out by it but i don’t know if it’s severe enough to make a report.

It's been bugging me that I just can't roleplay a (relatively) humanist nation that seeks to incorporate neighboring cultures and create a cultural union. Especially when playing in Africa! Karagwe has a province with the unaccepted Takama culture, but all other Takama provinces are colonizable, so they're alway going to be overwritten by your main culture, even if you've already accepted Takama culture within your nation.
I want to roleplay as Perm creating the Ugric cultural union, finding and developing the provinces of their Ostyak & Samoyed brothers, without being forced to delete their culture from existence or having to culture-swap their cultures back after colonizing. :(
Is there a mod that allows me to do this?

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Hello everyone,
I'm an experienced female writer with over fifteen years' writing experience, looking to write with males or females 25 or older (with a preference for 30+.) I am happy writing females or males in FxF or FxM pairings.
!!! I am British and only looking to roleplay with other Brits, with no exceptions. Please be literate and able to contribute something to the discussion if you contact me !!!
I play via Discord, and in real time. By that I mean, the two of us sitting down at the same time to exchange moderately short (semi-para to paragraph length) posts, rather than longer posts at any time throughout the day.
My interests range from the vanilla to the embarrassingly dark, and can be discussed in private.
Settings I would be interested in exploring include:
- Political set-ups: intrigue, plotting and manipulation!
- Sci-Fi: near future dystopias and totalitarian states!
- Post-apoc: fairly self-explanatory!
- Alternate history: I've a few ideas for how this could go!
I am not interested in fantasy settings, or superheroes and prefer to fade-to-black.
Please feel free to get in touch via PM or chat (not via comments) and I can provide my Discord handle.

so I’m curious, when did you all know what type of witch you were when you started off doing witchcraft? I’ve been doing witchcraft nearly over a year and i’m still not at the at that stage where im ready to do any kind of spell works except from protection spells because i’m not too sure what type of witch i am and i don’t want really want to be doing the wrong spells so over the year i’ve been researching manifestations, protection spells and simple small energy spells.
Although, a week ago a witchcraft shop opened in my local area which is now where i go too, to get my witchy stuff and when i spoke to the women who owns the shop as of course shes a wiccan her self, she said when i was talking to her, for someone who is starting off i sure am a natural at witchcraft. Which I’m not sure what she meant by that as all i do when i go into that store is let my intuition pick out what draws their attention and i get whatever its picked out (: she also said im very empathetic she can pick up i’m very spiritual and good spirits are always drawn to me which makes a lot of sense because i used to experience a lot of super natural stuff and even till this day I do. I also tend to pick up energy and see peoples aura too.
But I’m still extremely confused on what type of witch i am and not sure what area i should be looking into and what to research and learn.

"Why won't you come with me?" Andrea's voice whined down the phone in the tone she always adopted when she wasn't getting her way. "C'mon… please? Everyone else is busy..."
"I already told you, I'm not going back to another one of your shitty dive clubs. Remember last time when I nearly got my eye gouged out in the moshpit? I had to take a week off work."
"So what if you got your bell rung for the first time, you really want to die without any scars? Besides, do you have any idea how hard it was to get these tickets? I had to pay some random street guy double just to get us in the door."
"Well, what's the big deal about this place, then? Why's it so exclusive?"
"Suck Shaft."
"What?"
"Suck Shaft, they're opening. Headliner's some local hick but everyone's going to see Suck Shaft, it's their first gig in like ten years or something. How in the fuck have you never heard of Suck Shaft?"
"Andrea, can you please stop saying 'Suck Shaft' for a minute… let me think…"
"Look, are you coming or not? We'll be in and out in two hours, Tom, I promise. You'll be no worse off for work tomorrow, might even have something interesting to say around the water cooler, ay?"
"Fine... As long as we're only staying for the opener."
"Great! Pick me up at six."
beep
I pulled up outside Andrea's house to find her sitting impatiently on the doorstep and she eagerly bounded over and hopped inside.
"Are you as excited as I am?!" She asked giddily, looking at me with her make-up-caked face. She presented two little white tickets and passed one over. "This is gonna be a night to remember!"
"Yeah, whatever… Two hours, then I'm going home, so don't fuck around, okay?" I put the car in gear and departed from the pavement. "I mean it, Andrea. I can't mess up with this job right now."
"Jeeeez, you're such a stick in the mud…" She groaned dramatically as her eyes rolled back into her head.
As we drove slowly down the decrepit street which was home to the run-down venue I was immediately shocked at just how busy it really was. A swarm of patrons all waiting to get inside mobbed the sidewalk and spilled over into the street. After a tedious fifteen minutes of creeping around, I eventually managed to squeeze the car into a tiny space two streets over.
It was freezing but I gave Andrea my jacket anyway after catching a few passive aggressive 'brrrrr's' as we walked side-by-side to the club.
"Why didn't you just bring your own coat?"
"Well, I didn't know we'd have to park like a hundred fucking miles away, did I?"
"What if it's cold inside? You consider that one, genius?"
"We won't be cold for very long," She shot me a sly wink as she dug into her back pocket and held up a baggie containing two tiny pills stamped with a smiling alien. "Roll with me?"
I looked into her big green pleading puppy dog eyes and found myself unable to say no. That and it had been a while since I'd gotten my hands on some decent ecstasy. Andrea always got good X.
"I'll take half. Remember I still have to get us both home in one piece after this." I said in a defeated voice, but secretly I was excited for the first time that day.
"Yay!" Andrea hopped up and clicked the heels of her Nikes at me. "This is gonna be great!"
She pulled the bag open and bit half a pill, handing me the other half. Then, without any hesitation, she slammed the other full one down too before flashing her tongue at me the way I imagine they make the patients do at mental hospitals after med time.
"For fuck's sake, Andrea. Really? You said two hours. In two hours' time you're gonna be completely gone, I'll probably have to carry you through the dance floor, prise your fingers off the stage just to get you out the door with me."
"A promise is a promise." She booped my nose condescendingly the way you might a small child. I always hated when she did that, endearing as it was. "When it's over, it's over. I won't hold you back."
"I hope not." I'd gotten the pill down quickly, but that bitter taste still permeated the surface of my tongue and a little at the back of my throat. "I really hope not..."
We rounded the corner and joined the back of the line and found ourselves relieved that it was moving relatively quickly. I stood on my toes and got a decent look at the action up front. The bouncer wasn't even really checking the tickets, just a nod in acknowledgement at whatever random white paper was being presented. This prompted me to check the one in my pocket.
It was riddled with typos. I held it up to Andrea and she looked at me as if I was from Mars.
"What?"
"You paid double for fake tickets?"
"Yeah, so what? They'll get us in, won't they?"
"Jesus, Andrea. I swear, two hours and then we're leaving. Okay? This is gonna be a nightmare to get away from, look how busy this fucking street is, it's all because of these fake ticket scalping fucks..."
The ecstasy had begun to take effect and I couldn't help but feel a little shame for just how hard my half a pill was already kicking my ass. I looked over at Andrea for the first time since we'd joined the queue, of which was quickly packed behind us as we gradually approached the front, boxing us in. She was chewing voraciously at her bottom lip. I put my arm around her shoulder reassuringly and she turned to me with her big wobbly pupils. The vibrant green of her irises almost obscured by them.
"We will get in, right? Won't we?" She asked with a sort of desperation that I understood. I'd had a 'bad' X trip before when my plans got cancelled and I'd taken too much, ended up milling around my apartment hugging pillows and gnawing at my toothbrush. I pictured Andrea disappointedly sitting on her couch while she ferociously stroked her cat with hardstyle blasting through her TV speakers.
"Yeah, I think we'll get in. Don't worry." She pulled me closer to her and we embraced. Usually that took an hour or two but the clear overdose had ramped up the process. "Are you sure you're okay to go in here? You shouldn't have done all that at once."
"Oh, y-yeah" She chattered at me through her clenched teeth. She broke away for a second and yelled into the crowd behind us.
"SUCK SHAFT! WOOO!"
She was met with a rallying cry of about two dozen other people who were also prematurely wasted. With a pleased giggle she took my arm again and snuggled in, which was a relief because it was so damn cold on that sidewalk. We got close to the front and I whispered into Andrea's ear.
"Look, just keep your head down and don't look at the bouncer. If he sees how fucked up you are he won't let us in, okay?"
"Okey-doke…"
"Gimme your ticket."
I took her ticket and approached the big man by the door as Andrea half-hid behind me. No words were exchanged, barely even a look. He grabbed our tickets, and in we went.
"Here's your jacket back." Andrea thrust my knockoff leather jacket towards me and I put it back on, knowing that it'd eventually just become a hindrance in the heat. I followed closely behind as we descended the sickly white painted concrete stairwell, already littered with cigarette butts and empty bottles and vomit possibly from the night before. The music was getting louder as we got closer to the underground set. Thick swathes of bass resonated in the walls and in the floor and the ceiling and I felt myself come alive.
The stairs ended after a few turns and Andrea took my hand and led me into the packed crowd, all moving sinuously to the beat. I felt a jab in my ribs but I didn't care. We were somewhere close to the stage, but I couldn't tell where. My vision flickered and moved with my body as I danced with Andrea, every so often taking an accidental shove from a stranger and giving out a few of my own. That moment, I don't know how long it lasted, but it was the last time I was ever truly happy.
I brushed it off at first, something being shouted that looking back, I know must have been 'fire'. I just didn't want to believe it. Then, when the dancefloor broke its rhythm and people began to push into us towards the exit, I realized what was happening. Andrea looked into my eyes and I could see she knew it too, that rapturous joy snuffed out by terror. When the real world creeps into the fantasies we use to escape, turning them foul forever.
The music was still blaring, but the stage was empty. Smoke trickled out from behind it. Screams began to overtake the bass as people crammed in beside us, all running in the same direction. The lit single door exitway was in near darkness spare a few gaps that weren't full of people squeezing through. It was utter chaos.
All around us the ones who'd fallen over were stepped on in the scramble, I could hear their bones snapping under the weight of frantic footfalls and their pained reactions as they gasped their last breaths before giving in. Several men and women were actively shoving people back, throwing elbows and punches with others retaliating and then succumbing to the trampling themselves. We managed to reach the exit door leading to the stairs, but as I squeezed myself through Andrea's wrist got caught in the doorframe and was shattered by the incoming horde pushing through the cramped doorway three at a time. She screamed, shrieked out, and then was lost. I didn't look back, I was overcome with an unbearable rage. I stood in that doorway and I kicked out hard, knocking at least a dozen people back into the club, which was now entirely ablaze as flames engulfed the stage rendered near invisible by the thick black smoke.
I wasn't giving anything close to a fuck. I jerked my elbows into noses, I yanked back two womem ahead of me and they tumbled backwards down the stairs into the fiery oblivion below. I kicked and I punched and I shoved and I think I even bit a guy at one point, until eventually, I managed to wriggle through the open door and into the night air as sirens screeched down the street towards the scene. I looked back over my shoulder at the carnage as other escapees of the blaze rushed past me to safety. I did too, except I didn't stop running.
I got in my car and I drove home.
Fifty-three people died in that club that night. Seventy were injured, many in ways that'll surely have made their lives a living hell since. Andrea. I'm not sure if Andrea died in the crush or under some fucker's boot or if the smoke got her, or the fire. All I know is that she didn't make it. I just hope it was quick. Oh, fuck, how I hope it was quick... I look back and it's like I can see her lying there by that jammed up door with her wrist all bent backwards with the bone sticking out while she pleads, begs, the other people there to help her. Everyone ignored her. I ignored her.
I don't like to think about it. I can't. So I don't. I moved away. Nobody knows I was there, or what I did. I know I'll never forget it, though. I know that I'll never forgive myself.

I've been on mirtazapine for nearly three weeks. It is helping, but I do have side effects (vivid dreams, aches, feeling spacey)
I can cope with these, but the appetite increase is really bothering me. All I want to do is eat. I lost a lot of weight for my health over the past two years, and I'm worried I'll put it back on.
I don't want to change medications as otherwise it's working for me. So if anyone has any tips or advice on how they managed this, I would be grateful.

I'm an out of state student living abroad in London whose dream has always been to go back home to california and I've wanted to go to ucsb specifically for years and years. I was so happy when I got a place but now I'm realising there is no way I will be able to afford this and it's devastating. I'm in that awkward area where I don't get much federal aid but our income is nowhere near high enough to actually pay so it'll probably cost me over 200k which is not possible for me to pay. any advice would be helpful :(

I spend all of my daylight hours scared and alone in this musty old cellar.
It’s woeful, and I bet it smelled this bad even before everything around here turned to crap. Great. My second sentence and I’ve already resorted to swearing. When I decided I’d start this diary (five minutes ago when I got a tiny sliver of signal) I thought it would be my poetic and deeply-moving goodbye to the world. Maybe I’d write about love and loss, or maybe the splendour of nature. Then, when all is done and dusted, I’d have left something to be remembered by. As well as my corpse, of course.
This was a bad idea.
*
Okay, I’m an idiot. There’s nothing else I can do down here. I’ve rooted through every cardboard box a hundred times, organised and reorganised my supplies, I’ve even built a fort. So, I’m back. Hello. Again. God, this diary is going badly.
But there’s just enough light coming through the boards I nailed over the cellar’s tiny window to type by. So I may as well type. Stops me staring up at the window just waiting for a shadow to pass by.
Maybe I'll just write and not hit Submit. Right, where to start? Well, my name is – actually, I think I’m going to refer to myself as ‘X’. That sounds mysterious. If you’re reading this and want to know my real name, I still carry my purse. My railcard is in there and, if you really want to know who I am, go find me and fish it out. I won’t bite...
So, my name is X. I live in a little English village in the middle of nowhere. Before all this happened, I had a mum, a dad, a sister and there was a boy I liked, his name was Jonah.
*
I couldn’t think of anything else to write so I waited until I came back from my rounds. That’s the stupid name I have for when I go outside at night scrounging for stuff. Drinks are the hardest. I only trust bottles or cans, or did, and I was running out of places to search for them. But I guess that doesn’t matter now.
My leg is doing alright actually; didn’t hold me up at all. I saw Jonah too. He’s looked better, I have to say. It’s strange because this is only the second time I’ve seen him since we came here. Maybe his ears were burning.
Anyway, I found some tinned pineapple in a creepy old caravan I hadn’t searched yet. Had to bust the door open with Old Trusty – which I thought might attract some unwanted attention – but it was fine. I’m actually eating the pineapple right now, tastes good. I also found a radio in there. I already have three down here, but none of them work. Not that the caravan radio works either, all you get is static. It’s just nice to collect something. You know, to have a hobby.
*
I can tell the sun is rising. I managed to sleep for a couple of hours, but I woke up after a bad dream. I know some people can remember their dreams, but I never do. I wake up and grasp at them, but I never manage a hold before they fade away. It’s like trying to pinch the corner of a wisp of smoke; the harder you try, the quicker it fades to nothing. I’m just left with a sensation, a kind of imprint which sums up the most intense part of the dream.
And a cold sweat. That’s new.
*
I’ve been through the box of photo albums I found at the back of the cellar again. I’ve looked through them a few times now, but I always notice something new.
There’s a photo of this little girl playing with a pretend guitar. I can tell it’s pretend because it doesn’t have strings, only brightly-coloured plastic dials. Kind of like My First Guitar Hero or something. The girl has dark hair and she looks a tiny bit like my sister did a million years ago. I don’t have a picture of my sister. I suppose I could go and get one from my old house, but it’s right in the middle of the village. I’m lucky I wasn’t torn to shreds the last time I went back. So, what I’ve done is put this girl’s photo in my back pocket as a substitute.
I guess I should probably write something about my real sister now. But I don’t think that’s a good idea just yet.
*
Daylight is starting to fade and I’m getting ready to go out on my rounds. I always take my satchel with me, packed with useful objects. I have Old Trusty (a crowbar) which sticks out of the top for easy access, a small toolbox, a pair of heavy-duty gloves (there’s a good story about how I got those, I might write that one down later) and a hammer. I carry a penknife I found down here in my pocket, my purse and phone, and a torch in my hand.
I don’t like to use the torch because its battery is running out and there’s always the chance it might attract them. I probably shouldn’t have used it last night when I got back. Maybe I’m starting to enjoy this writing malarkey? I need to be careful with luxuries.
*
Okay, that could have gone better.
Picture the scene: I’m using Old Trusty to try and lever a kitchen window open, when one of them just walks right through the garden hedge. Seriously, straight through it. It’s not the mightiest of hedges but, still, it just appeared like it was walking through one of those Japanese paper walls. My satchel was on the ground, but I legged it anyway. I’m not stupid. I know I can go back for it tomorrow. I felt strangely naked without it on the way back here though.
Like I said before, I need to be careful with the torch so I think I’ll try and get some sleep now.
*
I slept pretty well last night; no nightmares or cold sweats. Maybe a midnight chase was just what I needed to blow away the cobwebs.
I actually woke up wondering about you. If you’re reading this, who are you? If you’re like me, living through this village nightmare, how have you managed to go this long without being killed or whatever? Maybe you’re Army or some such. Maybe you’re just some kid who’s played so many videogames that surviving all of this was already second nature to you. Or maybe you’re like me; living on borrowed time and searching for a good place to die. Maybe Future Me was brave enough to tap Submit on my diary and you're currently reading this on your phone or computer.
Here’s an idea. Maybe you can carry on this diary from wherever I left it at. God, I really hope this isn’t my last entry, although I suppose any entry might be. If you do carry the diary forwards, and I'm a corpse, maybe it will become cursed. Spooky.
*
I’ve been preparing for my next excursion.
If I know I’m going somewhere I’ll likely run into an ugly, I like to take extra precautions. And I want my satchel back. It was a present from my dad, and I know it cost him a lot of money.
So, I’m taking a pair of shears from the shelf of old tools down here. That way, if I lose Old Trusty, I’ll have a backup weapon.
If you are local, I wonder how you like to kill them? Pretty morbid question I know, but everyone around here seems to have their preferred method. The last villager I saw alive carried a pair of mini cricket bats and seemed to have bludgeoning down to an art form. He never saw me though, I was watching from a grove of trees as he killed his way along the main road near the village.
That was before I decided to stay inside during the daylight hours. We can at least see a little bit at night; ambient light and everything. They can’t though. I’ve seen them, they bump into things. It’s pretty funny to be honest. If they hear a noise, they walk in the direction of the sound, never trying to avoid any object in their path. They either bash said object out of the way, or, like that hedge, blunder right through it. Obviously bigger things stop them dead (ha!) though. If that happens, they sort of shuffle backwards and then try again a few times. Eventually – and I’ve seen this too – they just give up and stand there, waiting for something else to attract their attention.
That’s not how it works in the daytime though.
*
I think it’s about an hour before the sun sets so it’s nearly time to head out. I’m going to change my bandage. One minute.
Okay, it didn’t look that bad really. The original scratch wasn’t too deep and now the wound seems to be doing that scabbing thing I remember from normal injuries. It just doesn’t smell very good. A bit like when you walk past a bin that needs emptying.
Anyway, I’ve applied more antiseptic and redressed it. Time to go.
*
That was fun. I’m glad I had those shears with me.
I got my satchel back you’ll be happy to know. And I got inside that house I’d been trying to break into as well. More through necessity than choice in the end, but I’m pleased I did. I found more batteries! That means I can justify writing at night a bit more. In fact, the people who used to live there (I think the husband owned the local garage) were pretty well kitted out. There were a lot of tins in their cupboards, and they’d even left a shotgun. It wasn’t loaded though.
Not that I need a shotgun. I didn’t tell you this before, but I have my grandpa’s old service revolver. He always told me and my sister that it was decommissioned, but my dad apparently knew otherwise. I keep it tucked into the back of my jeans at all times. It had three bullets, one of them is gone, so only two left.
I’ll only be needing the one of course.
*
Morning. I’m feeling pretty low today. I think concentrating on getting my satchel back took my mind off things, but now I feel pretty deflated.
Surely that’s understandable? The village I knew and loved has been replaced with this sodding hell. I miss my family, my friends, TV and hot dinners and Instagram. Before all of this I was a pretty positive person. Sure, I had a bit of trouble getting up in the morning, but, once I was up, that was it. I’d meet the day’s challenges head on, try to enjoy myself as much as I could. Not today though.
Maybe if I write about Jonah I’ll cheer up. Not Jonah as he is now of course, Jonah when he was all smooth-skinned, curly-haired and bright-eyed. Now he’s like the anti-Jonah or something. His face looks like it lost a fight with an angry lobster. No, wait, I’m supposed to be writing about Jonah version one here.
He’s one of those people that I can’t remember meeting. My family has always lived around here and so there are lots of people who have just always been, if you get me. I always thought we would drunkenly get it together at a party – that’s what I’d usually do if there was a boy I liked. Classy.
*
I’ve perked up a bit. Out of sheer frustration I went upstairs (naughty, I know) and looked out of a window. Sure, I saw an ugly, wandering aimlessly as they always do, but I saw that the trees are starting to turn too. That means it’s nearly autumn, and I love autumn!
My sister and I always used to go out and kick leaves at each other in the autumn. I don’t know if it was because of her low centre of gravity, but my sister was amazing at it. She could somehow whip up a blazing whirlwind of golden-yellow and fire-red, surrounding us both in a leaf storm that I couldn’t help but flail my arms madly at. Then we’d both fall backwards into the leaves laughing, me wondering how on earth what had happened was possible. She was that good.
God, I let her down in the end.
*
I think I’ll stay away from the house with the shotgun tonight. It usually takes a day or two for a group of uglies to disperse once they’re all riled up. I could use the rest of that tinned food I suppose, but I’ve got plenty to be getting on with for now.
Instead, I think I’ll swing by another farmhouse I was scoping out before I decided to turn nocturnal. I never met the people who used to live there, but I remember Mum telling me they liked their privacy. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind me visiting now though.
Also, there’s a woodland between here and there and I might be able to find some leaves to kick about a bit. I think that would make me feel close to my sister again.
I’ll check back in later.
*
I’m still alive, but only just.
I made it through the woods just fine (only the odd leaf on the forest floor at the moment though, sadly), the trouble started at the farmhouse. I couldn’t get in – the doors and windows were barricaded – so I tried one of the outbuildings. Locked. It had a cat flap though.
My first instinct was to leave it, but then I wondered if there might be something useful inside. Lord knows what thinking about it now. I lifted the cat flap with one hand and shone the torch beam through with my other. That’s when an ugly dived at my pinkies. Luckily, it misjudged its leap and got a mouthful of plastic cat flap instead. As for me, I fell backwards onto my bum.
Next, the damn thing started bashing on the door from the inside. I don’t think it could ever have got out, but the noise attracted more uglies from out of nowhere. I only just managed to outmanoeuvre them and hightail it back into the woods.
That’s not the worst of it though. On the way back my leg started to hurt. A lot.
*
I woke up this morning and I’m walking with a limp. It’s funny, Dad had a limp when he and Mum died. He was nailing planks of wood across our windows and doors because there was no signal (as per bloody usual) and we thought that what was happening here was probably happening everywhere. It's only recently that I realised this was an isolated, local outbreak. Anyway, Dad dropped the hammer onto his toe, he always was useless at DIY. I think it was only a couple of hours after that when he and Mum were taken.
It was like a wave of death. No, not like, that’s exactly what it was. A hoard of uglies swept through the village, probably originating from the secret research facility in the woods we're not supposed to know about. My sister and I wouldn’t have had a prayer if Mum and Dad hadn’t charged down the first few that got into our house. They gave us just enough time to escape, to run away and leave them to die. My sister was screaming all the way and I had to drag her like she was four again.
She wouldn’t speak to me for a few days after that. I didn’t blame her, I hated myself too. But I would have hated myself even more if I hadn’t done what I did next. On my own, I snuck back into our house with the crowbar I found here. Then I dispatched my parents. I can’t bring myself to type it any other way. It wasn’t like in the movies, I didn’t pound their skulls into mush whilst sobbing, ‘Why?’ over and over again. I just found them, or what was left of them, forced the crowbar through each of their eye sockets, and came straight back here.
Then came the crying.
*
I haven’t told you about the heavy-duty gloves yet, have I?
After I got back from our old house, my sister started speaking to me again. A shared, day-long cry will do that for sisters. Once we felt up to it, we decided to explore the parts of the farmhouse we hadn’t searched yet. All the bedrooms were empty, only a few belongings flung about the place (I suspect the previous tenants left in a hurry). The problem came when we investigated the attic. Once we’d opened the ceiling panel in the upstairs hallway, once we’d pulled the compact staircase down, I went up. My sister stood at the top of the hatchway shining the torch beam over my shoulder. And that’s when it touched me. Terrified, I fell to my left, screaming as the thing came crashing down on top of me. I was yelling things like, ‘Shoot it!’ and, ‘Run!’ but my sister was just laughing her head off. I soon realised that my attacker was in fact a shop-window mannequin.
I think the people who previously lived here must have been arty (or into some seriously freaky stuff) because the mannequin was dressed in scarves, bandannas, ties, watches – loads of things. The rest of the attic was pretty empty but at least we got the mannequin’s gloves.
*
I’m not feeling good at the moment. I’ve got a sore throat and I’ve coughed up blood a couple of times. My leg pain is getting worse too.
I don’t think I’ll go out tonight. I have enough tins left and one of them is a Full English In A Can. Sounds pretty disgusting, but intriguing at the same time. I’ve been saving it for near the end. A sort of consolation prize.
*
There are two mattresses down here. Obviously one is mine, and the other one was my sister’s. After she died, I couldn’t bring myself to get rid of it. I don’t have a photo of her, only Guitar Girl’s. Her bed is the only thing of hers I have left. And she didn’t even sleep in it that many times.
*
The tinned Full English was vile! You’ve got to laugh though, what else can you do?
*
I’m crying as I write this. Tears of sorrow, shame and regret.
It happened as we were searching a cottage just off of the main road. We’d used Old Trusty to get inside, and I’d rushed straight into the kitchen to find the food. We’d run out more than a day before and I was famished. My sister followed me into the kitchen, a wide grin on her pretty little face because I was sitting there with an open can of beans. Then one of them came at her from behind. I must have walked right past it on my stupid way to the cupboards. It bit into her neck and blood gushed over the tiles in a torrent. As she yelled out in agony, I leapt up and implanted the crowbar right into the thing’s skull. It crumpled to the floor, but the damage was done.
‘Don’t let me lose myself.’ That was the last thing my sister whispered to me before she passed out. Her wound was much more severe than mine is, and much closer to the brain. That seems to make it quicker. I took grandpa’s revolver from behind my back and blew her brains out.
I buried her in the back garden.
*
After my sister died I went kind of crazy. I took Old Trusty out across the fields and pulverised every ugly I could find. I don’t even remember it that well, it was just, find, kill, find, kill…
We’d only been going out in daylight before then but, in my anger, I carried on through the nights. That’s how I learned about their inability to evade in darkness. Eventually, though, one got me. I found three munching on a dead cow and ran straight at them. Took out the first two easily enough, but the third managed to scratch my leg with a bloody fingernail just before I clobbered it into oblivion. Once I realised its nail had broken the skin, it was like a switch had been flicked inside me. That’s it, I’m dead too. I lost my bloodlust and came back here.
*
If none of this had happened, I think my sister would have eventually gone into medicine. I was doing okay at College but she was top of her class at school. And she had a really kind nature too. She’d never squish any bugs that got trapped in our house; she’d get a glass, scoop the little critter up and seal it inside with a book. Then she’d take it outside and release it, even if it was a wasp.
*
I’ve decided that here’s not the place. I'll hit Submit and then I’m going to do it in those woods I wrote about; consider this diary as my Note. I’ll be able to find a nice spot to sit and look at the trees, some place that's calm and peaceful. I’m going to leave the picture of Guitar Girl in this cellar, she belongs in this house. The tree leaves will remind me of my sister more than any photo ever could anyway.
I guess all that’s left to say is thank you for listening.
I know it’s possible that no one will ever read this, but that’s not really the point is it?
Love,
X
*
Thanks for reading! If you want more from this universe check out The X and Wye Anthology Series
-- Jack
*

This post goes goes into subconcious mind, spiraling overthinking and doubts so skip the 3rd to last paragraph or only read this post if you feel sure about it.
Similarly with how parents or teachers might have told us something that we internalized in childhood, I'm in need of advice on how you would approach this with someone who overthinks.
After months of success (albeit with occasional spiralling), I had spent a month identifying with fear until very recently, where I realized I needed to let go of thoughts about fears and to keep reminding my mind not to overthink when it did. Doing this made everything suddenly flow much easier again, helping with my ability to be productive and present without underlying fears effecting my motivation and ability. However, I found myself susceptible to that fear mindset being triggered by this person who, to keep it brief, is a coordinator of sorts who I am working to end my sessions with. They often tell me about bad experiences in their past and plant doubts in my mind and others about how "realistic" a dream is, speaking from the 3rd perspective that "we" set ourselves up.
Since then, I've spent the most part of 3 days identifying with their statements and allowing them to replay in my mind. The thing is statements like these have never been impactful to this extent before. I imagine their repitition of giving up after having finally dropped my fear thinking prior combined with my habit to overthink made their comments hit harder. Now I'm in a rut of pitting their statements to my own goals, which is starting to effect my dreams (the asleep ones) and my belief in pursuing my goals, and now my ability in socializing... due to that also being a goal. This is despite having not revealed any details to said person, and despite myself knowing success is only a few months away (part of it involves moving) and that their doubts about their own life are being projected onto me.
The fear I have is whether my mind will subconsciously internalise limiting beliefs presented to me by others or if it my identification with the fear that is more likely to do that, than had I been mindful and let the fear thought pass along. Now I believe that the responsibility falls onto myself to accept/reject such thoughts, but fear that as the hours pass, my continued ruminiating in these limiting statements will turn into a negative assumption in the subconscious that will covertly hinder my ability to achieve them. I realised one of the issues I have is this inner voice is adding words of doubt next to words regarding my goals, as an intrusive thought. It's also telling myself that 1 day, 3 days, 1 week from now, I am going to bring about a failiure or that even if I got so far that I made it, because of this underlying fear that 5 years from now the goal could be ruined. The belief that it's unrealistic has been planted in my mind so how can I tell myself it's only impacting me like this because I believe it could or is it time I just stop the thinking?
I feel that once I have moved out and seen the start of my goals play out more consistently and physically, that these kinds of thoughts wouldn't be nearly as impactful if at all, as was back in that period a month ago and the few days where I had picked up myself again. Until then though, I know that my goals are very much achievable, even looking at it from a "realistic" view, so would any of you know a main reason people identify with other's opinions that I could work on? How can I stay present and trust I have the authority to accept and reject intrusive thoughts? How can I get to a point of being far more firm and unwavering with my beliefs?
Despite the persisting thoughts, should I just do my best to tell my mind not to think and fight the thought when it comes up, focus on work and atempt to enjoy my goals until mind gradually forgets about fear? Is the answer this simple but just going to need time to naturally believe in these goals again or can you offer any additional advice?

Hi all. I am getting to the point of pulling my hair out at this problem, and I have no idea what to do to solve it after nearly 6 hours of trying. I feel like an idiot and nothing I’ve found online helps.
I have a Korg Nanokontrol2, and several years ago I was able to use it as a CC controller to control expression and volume on my orchestral samples. About a year ago, I tried to expand the functionality (adding Vibrato and other CC functions to it) and followed some guides to get the Korg Editor and map the Nano that way. I’m not sure what exactly happened, but in that process, it stopped working with CC data completely. I didn’t have time to fix it, and powered through my current project by drawing automation afterwards instead of using faders to record it (it was as painful as it sounds).
I took a break from composing and got my studio back up and running this week. I tried to get my Nanokontrol back to its former useful self, and no matter what I do, it always registers as a mixer in Logic. I’ve tried deleting it from the Control Surface list, re-mapping it on the Korg Editor, uninstalling and reinstalling drivers and the Korg Editor, getting rid of the Editor completely and trying to force Logic to forget it and recognize it as a new device... Every time I open Logic and plug it in, the sliders are automatically volume for the tracks, and the knobs are pan. I have auto assign turned off so I don’t understand why this is. Nothing I do will change them, and I can’t get CC functions to assign in Learn mode either. If anyone has any idea how I can fix what feels like should be a very simple problem and help me use my NanoKontrol as a CC controller again, I will be eternally grateful. Thank you so much!

I first played FFXIV during December 2020 and played on and off, sometimes taking multiple month breaks at a time. However, my main job(DRG) has reached level 60 and I'm nowhere near the end of the heavensward msq, so all of the exp will be wasted. I also took maiming gear from quest rewards, which is bad for me since I want to play Sam, a job that uses striking gear. I also wasn't paying that much attention during the ARR msq and crystal tower quests. There are also 2 new servers on the data centre I play on(Light) so I'll be leveling up fatlst with road to 80. Should I create a new char when I eventually upgrade?

I m European already send clothes to Ukraine a full truck, but now its worst, its winter.

• will need one person that understands about webdesign and managing social media
• also need someone that understand about accounting ad more important, donations and things like that,

those 2 people will manage pictures and social media plus all the accounting and money donation.
The idea is

1. we will get a few trucks full of clothes( free ) and get that till Ukraine
2. we will stay there for about 5 to 6 months doing volunteer work, helping with evacuation of civilian, helping with distribution of food and other things.

spoke with a few people and its possible to take a few trucks and a few SUV, ambulance, mobile clinic,
(I am not sure if op needs or already has:)

• 2 truck drivers able to go back and front to get all the stuff from border to us plus
• 4 security veterans,
• 28 Ukrainian people able to speak English and translate for all the team and all the time, if they able to cross borders even better, training will be provided near the border,
• 12 drivers with experience in long vehicles,
• 11 drivers 4x4,
• 3 paramedic driver,
• 3 paramedics,
• 6 nurses
• 3 doctors, 1 general medicine doctor, one experienced with sharps wounded people,
• 2 uav drones drive god ones,
• 10 security veterans,
• 2 communication and filming,

Now the main objective is to go to towns that are recently liberated or on the front line, take civilians out, leave food in, take wounded out, take them to treatment in our safe back place, and do first aids, then take them to hospitals far away from front lines.
All that will be filmed and put in web social media, creating revenue with donations.
Clothes can get a truck loads per month for free, donations,
drones will give us safe places and safe roads in front of us and in towns before we go in,
communications, so no one stays back or not informed,
security so when we take the trucks full of stull food and clothes, there are no panic or disorder,
Now if there are people that can help to increase visibility of this post, I did some work like this in Africa and South America, but will need a strong team. Training can be provided after the wester border in an academy for 2 weeks for some of the people that have no training, if you can help please send me an email

Hey guys.
My (32F) boyfriend, “Josh” (34M) is a full blown alcoholic. After a series of drunken episodes, and nearly getting fired he has finally admitted he is an alcoholic and wants to get sober.
I am trying to be supportive and help him through this as much as I can. I heard wonderful things about ‘Easy Way to Stop Drinking’ book by Allen Carr and would love to find it in an audiobook if possible. If not, a pdf will work.
I cannot find either anywhere on google except for one on Amazon for nearly $75.
Can anyone please point me in the right direction to find it?
Also, please give me all the tips, advice and suggestions as I try to support him through this!
Thank you!!