Apparently I don't appreciate anything because i don't make small talk with my parents. Keep in mind if something actually interesting happens at school or work I can talk with my mother for hours. We also frequently go out to see movies and have dinner.
But my parents say Im "inconsistent" since I don't make small talk every damn day even though 95% of my days are the exact same. I just feel this is exhausting because I appreciate my parents greatly and didn't even see this discrepancy. Is this a line between ND and NT? Fluffy small talk every day? If nothing interesting happens during my day then I feel don't need to say anything.
It's not as if I look mad and or have an attitude either, I just eat dinner quicker and go about my business. My parents often repeat stories and jokes but that's just never been in my personality. I don't know anymore, I hate that I can't see these things since my mind literally works differently. I hate that I go about things thinking shit is fine then suddenly I've offended someone, and I can never seem to catch it coming. I barely talk to anyone anyway since this always happens, now I can't even stop the -tism from pissing off my parents :/

As it says in the bit you clicked on: I’m delightful. Read further for a small sample of the many ways in which I am wonderful, and find out how you, yes YOU, can take advantage to the amazing limited time offer. Also, we're social distancing, so I suppose this is a good time for torrid correspondence.
Offer includes:
Wit: I’m funny. Sometimes dry and biting, as when hanging out over drinks and I’m making acerbic sotto-voce comments about the dipshits at the other end of the bar, declaiming upon how Democrats are just as bad as Republicans and anyway Hillary is super corrupt. Sometimes absurdly silly, as when we are in bed, and especially in those awful moments during kink when pushing our emotional boundaries has inadvertently shattered the shared intimacy whereby situations that might otherwise be horrifying turn unbearably hot and sexy and intimate; (because you are firmly bound, suspended from a hook in this door-frame, with a ball gag distending your mouth and a large man is selecting amongst his toys for what to hit you with, now that you’ve been worked over with the crop that he’s still using to caress your clit. For example). Talking about the kink is supposed to be further down, but I’m proud of my ability to notice those moments and pull the gag and start improvising a progressively more absurd re-telling of the constitutional convention as a poorly organized swingers convention, using the contents of my pockets to represent the various founding fathers and their outhouse assignations with Jefferson.
Frightening intellect: I’m really, really bright. I read, constantly and voraciously and indiscriminately, at least as far as subject. I pay attention to news and politics and policy and everything else and I’m always glad to spend time with someone else who is as interested in the world as I am. I adore — really, deeply adore— doing kink with terrifically intelligent women; having the kind conversations where I feel like I must be a genius just because I can kind of keep up with you. Kinky sex is by nature pretty intimate, at least when it is something two people are doing together as opposed to some dude who figures kinky girls are easy and thinks being a dom means not caring if she comes and yelling bitch a lot. But I am not that guy. I fucking hate that guy. I spent years being miserable and basically at war with my sexuality because I thought being male and dom meant I had to be that guy and oh my God I think I’d rather just remove the entire apparatus using a rusty spoon from my Swiss Army knife rather than be like that walking indictment of humanity. So I need to like the person I’m performing misogyny at. She needs to be someone I can talk to before and after and not feel like I’m robbing an intellectual cradle. My capacity to be the most amazing dom you’ve ever invited to cross you boundaries — which I can totally be — is tied directly to how much I respect you as an equal making a choice and my assessment of your respect for me in the same way.
Sexy: There is no one true standard of hotness, and I don’t hold myself forth as the platonic ideal of the male form (for one thing? The Greeks were super into tiny penis. I’m serious. Had to do with their ideals of balance, apparently). I’m a big guy, 5’11, white, with a broad-shouldered sort of frame that leads people to think I’m taller than I am. I have a bit of a gut, but not so much that you’d call me fat, walking down the street; I suspect that the gut is something I notice but mostly no one else does. I get more compliments on my ass than I know what to do with.
I’m fit and active, I have nice eyes, a good smile and a better laugh. I’m currently clean shaven, although I’ve been known to grow a beard from time to time. (It is a small, neat Van Dyke sort of thing - I couldn’t grow a hipster lumberjack beard if I wanted to. Something else the Greeks would have had opinions on). Brown eyes, brown hair, and bespectacled. Nerd, but sexy nerd. And admit it: when a dude is tying you up and saying demeaning, degrading, frantically arousing things to you, wouldn’t you rather, when drops the crop and your world collapses to the feeling of his fingers (HOW many fingers? God, can you even tell any more, you are so wet...) moving inside your pussy and his thumb on your clit, when you suddenly feel his free hand up under your hair, right along the scalp, in that good, firm grab that makes you feel small and helpless and sexy and dirty and nasty and so, so good (and HEY! Did I tell you you could do that? If I wanted you to fuck your filthy hole on my fingers I’d have told you to, wouldn’t I? So stop, or I’ll have to take them away) ... in that moment, I have to believe you’d rather have the person whispering sweet, dirty nothings in your ear be one who can use words like “wanton” and “harlot” as well as “skank” and “hoe” or strangely popular “bitch”. Who can capture your imagination even more thoroughly than he’s bound your hands and ankles. I don’t know. I’m not even just a little bit submissive, and even if I was I’d still be a dude. But I have to believe -and user feedback surveys seem to support - that it is better when the violence of action is matched by wickedness of mind and quickness of wit.
Liberal: I’m not imposing a political litmus test. But because I only screw people I like and who I at least believe like me, and because the politics of the moment are centered around such a toxic person leading an even more toxic movement it matters: If you are on board with the current conservative movement in America, just... no. Because while I might get past the stupid policy, maybe. I mean probably not, but I can forgive well-meaning and ignorant, at least in principle. But I could never accept the cruelty.
Feminist: As much as I enjoy deploying the tropes and language of misogyny in bed with a likeminded partner, my enjoyment of that for that performative misogyny hinges on you being in on the joke (if you’ll allow). It isn’t just about “being good”; virtue has nothing to do with it, at least in this context. It is because as a dominant I get off, in large part, on your desire: controlling it, restraining it, heightening it, sustaining it and ultimately satisfying it (or not, as circumstances dictate). If we don’t start from a place where we both see ourselves as peers, I can never be really sure that desire is authentic or authentically mine. And I am egotistical enough, or maybe just have enough self-respect, to demand that I be certain that your desire is for me, specifically, at least in the time we are in “bed”. (although the bed is only the actually relevant piece of furniture at most half the time. Really, beds are actually terribly designed for good sex. Post coital cuddle and bullshit sessions, while we discussed what worked, what really worked, and what needs work? That is a fine use for the bed. For fucking and fucking related program activities? At best a poor second to a good couch or any of a wide variety of chairs.
Stoned-sex: I love the way it affects my physiology, keeping me aroused and in the moment for hours and hours and the way it drops my refractory period down to only a few minutes or a half an hour before I’m in the mood again. And I love the way it slows down my otherwise sometimes too quickly racing mind, so that I can slide effortlessly into the dominant analog of subspace; that mental space where calling a pretty girl who I like and respect and admire a lazy no good whore, where yanking her up by her hair, slapping her face and telling her to get her greedy little mouth all the way down my cock or I’ll show her what rough really means... Weed helps me be in that space without quite so much second guessing or worry that I’m going to hurt you. It lets me trust my instincts and you and your ability to safeword out, and that is good for both of us.
Kinky: Obviously. And obviously, this is shot through with examples. But: I like power and control. I like, more than anything getting to know you and your mind and being able to figure out how to wrap you around my fingers so thoroughly that I hardly have to lift them to have you dancing my tune. I can be rough, and cruel, and I love causing pain, even to the point of tears and balancing that against urgency and a desire to please and an orgasm that I can hold just out of reach until the moment I don’t and just as your are falling off from that peak ratcheting the sexual energy back up so that even though you just came call over my hands or cock or mouth you’d do anything-Anything-ANYTHING for one more caress, one more thrust, one more slide of my tongue (inside: that specific, delightful acid tang of the inside of a cunt that you only taste when you push your tongue deep inside - it never lasts on a finger, for some reason - then out and up and you can feel her tremble, strong and subtle and if it were a song this bit would be almost subsonic and then under the clit and around and there she goes, she’s starting to beg again and now I kinda have a crush on her because she is learning me back, harlot instead of whore, and an under-undercurrent of mirth beneath it all: the power is real and the desire is real but we also both know it is a joke, a shared secret: we can do this and still be friends and isn’t that fucking awesome?).
I have a few specific fetishes: I like to decide what you wear, when we are together: I love being able to look at you and know, not just that you’ve made yourself into an expression of my ideal of high femme sexuality, but that as you did so, with every little bit, anticipation was building. That I’ve been teasing you, maybe for hours, without doing a thing or saying a thing. (And of course, it plays back into desire and its close cousin, consent. If every stitch you are -and every stitch you are.- wearing was chosen with an eye to my desires, that is an implicit declaration of enthusiastic consent). I have a bit of a twist for deviance. Sitting next to a woman who I know has got nothing on under her panties but the butt plug I told her to wear is hot; hotter still if I handed it too her at the bar and she returns from the bathroom and hands me her panties. Hotter still if I hand it too her and she doesn’t go to the bathroom, but just looks around and then slides it up her ass with a smirk and a “Thank you SiDaddy”. I like being called Daddy, sometimes. There is something inherently provocative when the kind of woman -scary smart, self-confident, and self-aware - that I am drawn to lets a breathy, anxious “Daddy” slip her lips. There is something inherently filthy about hearing that word, with all its baggage, demeaning, infantilizing implications fall from the lips of someone who is alive to those implications and is calling to me in that way not despite them, but on account of them. (It isn’t my revolution if I can’t dance to it. And it isn’t my feminism if we can’t repurpose our cultural baggage in order to have a spectacular sex life in a magnificent relationship).
I have more than a bit of the daddy in me. A bit physically — I’m solid like that. And still more in attitude. As much as I demand of a partner, I cherish knowing I can be a very particular kind of safe place to stand for her. I enjoy, even need, to be protective and caring, supportive and nurturing. Not only in that quiet place after we have hit the climax (or between the first, easy release and starting the next assent — which is very much part of why I like being able to combine weed with my kink. As much as I love giving reign to some of the darker parts of my personality during the rush of kink, I also exulting that aftermath; when your head is on my chest and my arm wraps around you, and my hands explore your body without any urgency or any hesitation. I love that feeling of being a place of safety and feeling you relax into my size and my strength. It is the only feeling that I have that I identify as definitely masculine (in and for myself: I’m not trying to claim that experience as uniquely belonging to those issued a penis and number of testicles at birth).
It extends beyond sex; really, that is only the tip of the iceberg. Vital, and you sure as shit are going to sink if you miss it in the dark. But it runs all through my relationships. Arguable without the sexually charged overtones, it is just a over complicated way of saying “I like being a good boyfriend”. But where would we be without our sexually charged overtones? And it cuts both ways: if you are pulling from that part of me without returning the counterpoint of submission I need (or I feel I’m constantly reminding you that I need it and your compliance thus feels grudging) we are going to crash and burn. If you fail to make certain it is clear to me that you are as happy to give me what I need as I am eager to give you what you need, I’m going to feel really ill-used.
Having said all that, I’m not remotely a good fit for anyone who defines themselves as a little. A Daddy/daughter dynamic without the explicit embrace of childishness has an intense pull because it combines taboo violation with a power exchange dynamic that comports well with my personality — being both protective and demanding, authority and comfort works well for me. But I find that the idea of trying to be sexual with someone locked in to portraying a prepubescent very uncomfortable and suspect that I would still feel that way with someone who’s “little” age was more mature. That is a squick, rather than a value judgment. With me, that sort of age play (or even worse pet play) works strongly against the kind of intimacy that I value in kink. Role play can be a blast, and I love it, but I need it to clearly be play, something that can be stepped into and out of without stepping completely out of the kink dynamic. I bring the entirety of myself to everything I do, and I have enough self-regard to demand the same from my partner. If I like you enough to take you to bed, that necessarily means that I value your mind enough to lust after it — no matter how lovely you may be in repose, if you can’t or won’t turn me on with your intellect you will lose my interest so quickly as to acquire a visible redshift as you exit my life. Accordingly, when I reach for your mind, be it too discuss housing policy or my difficulty with a binding, to check on your well being or learn how your dissertation is progressing, (and I’ve done all of these during a scene) I deserve to be able to find it, and you, there reaching back.
If you’ve gotten this far and if you are at all the target audience: (cis-female, like weed and kink together, comfortable in yourself and your kinks, think you’re sexy) send me a PM. Don’t think yourself out of it or wait and see or anything. For fucks sake don't read the following Just put together a couple of paragraphs of message and fire it off. I don’t know what will happen, but I know for sure you won’t regret having done so. After all, like I said right up top: I’m delightful. I bet you are too.
I used to try and assert that I don’t have a type. That isn’t true, though: I have several even beyond the implicit, willful intellectual type suggested above. And the list keeps growing: I’m forever delighted by the variety of women who've made my hindbrain start barking and trying to do tricks, at one time or another. Granting that, my abiding lust objects resemble 40’s pin ups far more than 00’s porn stars, at least insofar as body type goes; tattoos and piercings can be wonderfully sexy. Likewise, though a wonderful rack can be a wonder to behold a girl in an A-cup who has that warm flare of hip and legs that go all the way down can lead to me walking into traffic. Finally, my experience of myself is sufficient for me to say confidently that race isn’t a factor in my libido, either for or against.
I live in Chicago, love my city, and for all I value the intellectual aspect of all this, I want ultimately to meet one (or more, I suppose;) women with whom I can spend time with both doing sexy things and the kind of things that make us both so terribly sexy. If that means an intense but memorable two days while you are visiting your great aunt Wilma, that is worth doing. If that means ongoing encounters frequent enough to keep us both sated, great. And if those are intermixed with enough non-sexual shared activities that the phrase “friends-with-benefits” is a fact and not just a more polite way of saying fuckbuddies? Even more great. Super, even. And if that last develops into a passion that carries us through the next three or four decades, both of us slightly bemused that we got along so well during the benighted days before first we fell upon one another, carried away on a passion so intense it is visible from orbit? Well. Wouldn’t that be delightful.

Hi! I was writing a script in bash to install a few packages. I used some commands to make directories and stuff like so,

$(mkdir $path) 

but when i try and do something like,

$(sudo pacman -S chromium) 

from inside the script, It does install chromium but also sends a error.

./test.sh: line 20: resolving: command not found 

It works fine if it just use

sudo pacman -S chromium 

inside the bash script. It there a reason why $( ) would lead to an error in this case? Please note that the package is installed in both the cases.
Thanks!

I lost my best friend Tuesday, and my heart is broken like never before in my life. I’ve lost dogs growing up, and it always hurt and was sad, but Goose was my first dog as a young man on my own. A girl I had just started dating coaxed me into getting a dog from her coworkers sisters farm in Cannon Falls, MN, $20 sounded like a great deal and cheaper than a date to win over a girl. They needed to get rid of the puppies quickly so I didn’t get to pick from the litter, but only asked they pick me out a boy, who isn’t the first to run up and jump all over you but doesn’t shy away from your hand. He was the smartest dog I’d ever raised, no effort in training. He grew into the goofiest, most loving, loyal companion.
He started getting sick last fall, just after that girl and I purchased our first home 10 years later. Last weekend he was having a harder than usual time standing and Monday rapidly progressed into an immobile state. We made the hard decision along with our vet to help him and ease his suffering. We held him in our arms as he passed.
I wanted him to grow old with us, pass on his temper and behavior to an expanding dog family, I wasn’t ready to say goodbye yet. It’s warming up and the snow is melting and his paw prints are vanishing, being blanketed by another layer of snow that will melt away his traces. I keep trying to find things that smell like him but it’s already so faint, I miss him so much. Everything hurts, opening a food wrappers, coming home from work, the pain keeps building and the only thing I know would wash it away would be a nuzzle from my baby boy. I can’t stop crying and often find myself tearing up for no particular reason, I feel so lost and stuck in hopelessness without him

Yeah I put this off until the last minute, I’ve had enormous difficulty communicating all my life so please bear with me. I don’t think one person knows this whole story but I realize it’s time I find a way to let my voice be heard. Hopefully it’s come together well enough after a week of working on it...
I was the kid that won all the first place trophies and held all the records on track and field day in kindergarten. Always outside doing whatever adrenaline pumping activity I could get myself into. From early on my parents recognized that I needed an environment that team competitive sports provides. Justifiably so, I would never trade the life lessons earned while playing American football for those read in a class room.
I suited up for the gridiron at 7 years old. I was padded from the toes up and it felt incredible, like I was a tank! The coaches loved me, I was short and stout, quick, sharp and fearless. It didn’t take long before I was playing on both sides of the ball, as running back on offense, safety on defense and returner on kickoffs. I was on the field the whole game. The attention as a team leader was intoxicating, it hooked me for life. I suffered my first on field concussion the following year.
It was the first game of the season, the bleachers seemed packed. Near the beginning of the game, playing as free safety, I see my opportunity to not let the team down. The ball gets handed off to their running back, a smaller guy like me, bursts around the mass of blockers to the outside and lights a fire down the sideline. Nothing between him and the touchdown, I project myself into his path and charge ahead like a game of chicken. Littler dude gets even lower than me, his helmet hitting me square in the diaphragm, lifts me clean off the ground and runs through me as though I wasn’t there. I land on my back, head hits the grass. Next thing I know I’m being lifted into an ambulance after being carried off the field on a stretcher. This was my first year of full contact play after a season of flag football and I clearly had not yet grasped the differences. I was in 2nd grade.
As I was enrolled in speech and hearing therapy at school, coaches began teaching me to get over that big hit by hitting the next kid even harder. I began to yearn the brutality of the game even as I took more punishment. The cycle was vicious. Looking back it really seems as though the coaches had some other agenda or issue that fed the aggression. We were coached to lead with our heads because shoulder pads were far too small proportionately and they’d make fun of us after a game if we couldn’t count multiple paint streaks embedded into the plastic on our helmets. Those paint marks were made by helmet to helmet contact, the more impactful the hit, the greater your “trophy”. Some kids earned more trophies than I and it pissed me off so I’d hit harder. They’d line us up one-on-one and tell us to knock the other guy off his feet if we wanted to play in the next game. I couldn’t begin to count the times I was laid out left counting the birds flying over my head in practice alone. Guys would go down every night, coaches laughing, “Aww get him some gatorade, he’s fine. Sit out 10 minutes and get back in here little guy.” I went on to play another 5 years in mostly the same positions until one day, after a difficult practice and a conversation with a close teammate, we dropped our pads and never looked back. But the damage had been done, my path had already been irrevocably set.
After that first on field concussion in 2nd grade, I went on to endure countless concussions over the next 7 years, first from football, then bike riding, fighting and skateboarding. It seemed after a few days of balance issues, blurry vision or headaches, I had no lingering problems and follow-up medical care was nonexistent at the time. It would be easier to recount the couple dozen times I was knocked unconscious, including one that kept me in the hospital for a week. I was so harebrained by high school, I attempted my fourth day of ninth grade black out drunk. The next day I was allowed back on campus I got busted with a joint. At 14, I ran away from home and made it 800 miles before being picked up by cops while breaking into cars for spare change. I was headed for Colorado to build a cabin. Wtf did I know about any of that? And I nearly made it. I quit school, 8th grade was my last year of formal education. Would wonder around the city drinking or smoking anything I could get a hold of. I’d go skateboarding atop some of the tallest buildings in Atlanta or scoot around the woods on an ATV while blindly firing my buddy’s .44 into the air. I shouldn’t have lived through it all, I have dear friends that didn’t. But at 15 I had an epiphany (thanks to LSD), packed a box and moved 400 miles away from everything and everyone. I was somehow able to hit the reset button and leave that volatile part of my life behind and spend the next several years recovering from the constant brain trauma.
Fast forward a few decades and what I’m left with is an inability to manage my life beyond today, I’ve been stuck in flight or fight mode ever since and I’m exhausted with looking over my shoulder. I’m feeling the effects of early onset dementia as I type this and I’m actually scared for the first time in my life. My days have moved beyond forgetting where I put my keys to nearly burning the house down when I run to the store forgetting that I was in the middle of cooking. I haven’t driven a vehicle in years because I’m scared I’ll hurt someone in a fit of road rage or forget why I left home in the first place. The few hours of sleep I may get is the only way to escape the screaming in between my ears and it makes rolling out of bed all the more difficult. I’ve lived in 27 different homes yet never owned my own. It’s been a rarity to hold a job or relationship more than a couple of years and have no savings for retirement. I’ve all but given up friendships and not had a meaningful conversation with my kids in years and I can’t blame them at all. I think about them all day and it hurts beyond words knowing that I’m the asshole and they’re better off without me around much. Have a talk with the person sitting next to you when your only available emotion is anger and see how many more conversations they willingly have with you. Imagine that being your dad. It’s as if there’s a switch that’s never been flipped and I’m incapable of appropriately expressing emotions in the moment. I really don’t mean to be the prick, I simply can’t help it. But I’ll never let you see the side of me cowering in the bathroom bawling my eyes out once I have time to reflect.
I’m 48 years young now and launching a new mission in life, to help educate those on how it takes a community to provide a safe environment for our children. Not one person has all the right answers and alone we fail. Whether it be coaches, school administrators, parents or the medical field, the system failed me. I would never advocate to end youth football, but why does it need to be combative? Too many have tragically lost their voices without even knowing football damaged their brains. The year I fell in love with the game was the year I played low-contact flag football, it becomes something else entirely when you start hitting each other.
It’s time to ban youth tackle football. Is it radical, yes. So were seatbelts and smoking bans.
Converting youth football to a flag system is the only remaining viable solution to making football safer for our kids. CA and NY have recently submitted proposals, it’s time lawmakers in other states step forward. The NFL’s most recent Pro Bowl gave flag rules a shot, the fans and players enjoyed it so much it’s here to stay. If the NFL gets its proposal to the 2028 Olympic Games approved, it will be no-contact flag football rules as well. If future iterations of the game are evolving to keep adult players safe, when will youth sports follow? Why aren’t kids more protected and supported when less than 1% of them will go on to play in the NFL?
Stay strong and Stop Hitting Kids in the Head; https://concussionfoundation.org/stop-hitting-kids-in-the-head
FYI; I have a difficult time living in the moment so give me a few days and I’ll do my best to circle back around to this post. Know that I appreciate all of you at cte for coming along on this journey of discovery with me. I am not the best at providing emotional support either but know that I look forward to getting us to a place where we can all be there more for each other. I’m thinking of you when I post and I will continue sharing my research along the way, please share yours and know that you are safe here.
Additional links;
Age of first exposure to tackle football and years played associated with less white matter in brain; https://medicalxpress.com/news/2023-03-age-exposure-tackle-football-years.html
Three or more concussions add up to long-term cognitive problems; https://www.theguardian.com/sport/2023/jan/31/three-or-more-concussions-add-up-to-long-term-cognitive-problems-study-suggests
CTE Center Director Ann McKee says the NFL ignores the risks of repetitive blows to the head and that it’s “foolish” to think the league will police itself; https://www.bu.edu/articles/2023/bu-finds-cte-in-nearly-92-percent-of-former-nfl-players-studied/
How Psychedelic Therapy Can Help Treat Brain Injury; https://www.psychedelicpassage.com/how-psychedelic-therapy-can-help-treat-brain-injury/
Before You Let Your Kids Play Football, Read This; https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/play-in-mind/202301/before-you-let-your-kids-play-football-read-this

Hello,
This might not be specifically hvac related but Im desperate for help.
I'm not very mechanically inclined. Im a 70 yr old single female with end stage lung disease and don't know what do do about this situation.
My upstairs bathroom toilet, sink and shower all drain down one pipe that goes to the outside sewer (city). This pipe leads several ft down and into my basement, it is broke off where the washer used to drain into.
In 2021 I had a new furnace installed and they stuffed the furnace condensation drain line into the place where the sewage pipe is broken off. My washer drain line is also in the same spot.
When the city inspector came here I showed him and he said its fine and no big deal. Often times will smell sewage in the basment and its gross and I imagine a health risk.
On a couple different occasions I've asked the people at home depot and they had no idea on how to fix this. I dont know anyone who can help me so I'm reaching out to reddit.
If anyone can help me or point me in the right direction on what to do / get so O can fix this id be greatful.
Here is a picture of what Im talking about
https://ibb.co/txMpq4V
Thank you.

Hello,
This might not be specifically hvac related but Im desperate for help.
I'm not very mechanically inclined. Im a 70 yr old single female with end stage lung disease and don't know what do do about this situation.
My upstairs bathroom toilet, sink and shower all drain down one pipe that goes to the outside sewer (city). This pipe leads several ft down and into my basement, it is broke off where the washer used to drain into.
In 2021 I had a new furnace installed and they stuffed the furnace condensation drain line into the place where the sewage pipe is broken off. My washer drain line is also in the same spot.
When the city inspector came here I showed him and he said its fine and no big deal. Often times will smell sewage in the basment and its gross and I imagine a health risk.
On a couple different occasions I've asked the people at home depot and they had no idea on how to fix this. I dont know anyone who can help me so I'm reaching out to reddit.
If anyone can help me or point me in the right direction on what to do / get so O can fix this id be greatful.
Here is a picture of what Im talking about
https://ibb.co/txMpq4V
Thank you.

I have a PLA printer and I’ve used it quite a lot but I was curious about the level of detail it is capable of. I see a bunch of resin prints with very fine and smooth details and I’m wondering if I can achieve the same results if I printed the same STL on my creality ended 3 or if it’s just the perks of resin printing. Any feedback would be appreciated, thanks.

Side note: I've added a password, so read carefully. If you message me WITHOUT the password, your messages are automatically IGNORED. tired of getting hit up with people who don't read 😒. It's ridiculous cause I've ignored 5+ chats cause none of them contained the password. Things are written for a reason.
Facts about me:

• I have been roleplaying since 2012. Yes, I got experience under my belt, and yes, my ideas usually have really long reads, but don't let that scare you off! After the starter is off, I may lower myself down to a decent paragraph or two, sometimes three! It all depends on what I've got to work with.
  
• My timezone is EST. I'm awake from 9am - 2am and I'm usually free unless I'm busy doing house chores, out of the house, asleep, or playing video games on my switch. I'm usually become REALLY active at or around 8pm.
  

Rules:
1: if you don't like 50/50 mixture of sex scenes and story, don't bother hopping into my inbox. I'm fine with sex scenes, but when it's constantly back to back, the roleplay itself gets boring.
2: Be literate. No one liners. I like to write..it's annoying when I send a 2-3 paragraph response and I get 3 lines...just...no. I am not accepting people who are just starting out! If you aren't experienced in writing or roleplaying, kindly stay out of my inbox.
3: Be okay with playing canon characters. I'm mainly doing fandom roleplays right now and it's going to be Canon x my oc. No, I'm not doing double ups. Do not even ask, because the answer will be no every time. I do not give a shit if you think that makes me 'lazy' or 'selfish', if you've got a problem, you can simply ignore or block me. Commenting on my post to bitch and whine about me not doubling up will only result in me blocking you. The ONLY time I'll double up, and if I'm confident enough, I'll only do female characters. I suck at males. Got a problem? Not my issue. Block and move on.
4: Roleplay in third person. I can't and won't adapt to first. Don't even bring up the idea of you playing first person and me playing third. Believe it or not, I've been asked this twice and that is just a hell no for me. The only time I do first, is when I'm writing into my book.
5: if you don't know how to share ideas, then don't bother messaging me. I'm tired of carrying the story when the other person doesn't help. If you've got ideas, then PLEASE speak up! Your opinion on the roleplay matters too! I'm an easy going person, and easy to get along with (dispite my rules).
6: DO NOT control my character. I control what she says, does, hears, sees, ect. I don't control yours, so don't control mine. HOWEVER, if it's highly necessary and needed, then run it by me first and ask me. Just leave me some wiggle room so I can make a decent response. Failure to comply by this rule, results in immediate drop of the rp.
End Note:
Yes, I've updated my rules just a tad. I do not care if it makes me sound mean or rude, because I'm neither of these things. I'm just tired of putting these rules down for a specific reason and they go ignored because I can tell when someone hasn't read them, and lied about it. I'm just trying to get my point across and roleplay. I'm a very easy going person who loves to make friends on the side (which I've somewhat given up on making friends...only a selective few have actually gained my friendship).
Do not hop into my inbox with a simple 'hey' 'hi' 'sup', etc and for God's sake, don't message me with a 'rp?'and proceed me to flash me with your talliwhacker. I promise you, you'll get your feelings hurt and I'll be here laughing at ya 😂. Nobody wants a peen on their screen. Do not send me an image of your one eyed noodle. Thank you. The password is pineapple.
Fandoms & Pairings
Pokemon ((MAYBE. Don't be nasty about it either!))
Bridgerton (or something like it. Can be Oc x Oc)
Disney Decedent's (or anything Disney) (oc x oc)
Orange is the new black (this can be oc x oc).
Criminal Minds (REALLY wanna do)
Marvel:
Loki x my oc
Spiderman (Tom Holland) x my oc
Dog The Bounty Hunter (REALLY wanna do):
Dog Chapman x my oc
The walking dead (REALLY wanna do!!):
Daryl X my oc
Batman x my oc
Lucifer (Netflix show series) x my oc (really wanna do)
The Originals: Klaus x my oc (PLEASE !! I REALLY wanna do this one!)
American Horror Story: Tate x my oc (REALLY wanna do)
Dragon Ball Z - Super (vegeta x my oc) (really wanna do)
Naruto: Minato x my oc
Harry Potter (thanks to the wonderful world of rp, the characters will be 18 or older. For me, I'd like it if it was Draco x my oc. REALLY wanna do)
Game Of Thrones (I'm still very early in the show, but I think we could think of something!)
Once Upon A Time:
killian x my oc, REALLY wanna do 🥺.
Avatar the last Airbender:
Zuko x my oc
Twilight:
Jacob x my oc
(Course, our version will be alot better than the movies).
If any of these interests you, message me!
End note part 2:
Congratulations! You've made it to the end. Still interested? You've got the password. Message me and let's get started 😁.

Hello,
This might not be specifically hvac related but Im desperate for help.
I'm not very mechanically inclined (70 yr old single female) and don't know what do do about this situation.
My upstairs bathroom toilet, sink and shower all drain down one pipe that goes to the outside sewer (city). This pipe leads several ft down and into my basement, it is broke off where the washer used to drain into.
In 2021 I had a new furnace installed and they stuffed the furnace condensation drain line into the place where the sewage pipe is broken off. My washer drain line is also in the same spot.
When the city inspector came here I showed him and he said its fine and no big deal. Often times will smell sewage in the basment and its gross and I imagine a health risk.
On a couple different occasions I've asked the people at home depot and they had no idea on how to fix this. I dont know anyone who can help me so I'm reaching out to reddit.
If anyone can help me or point me in the right direction on what to do / get id be greatful.
Here is a picture of what Im talking about
https://ibb.co/txMpq4V
Thank you.

This might just be me, but every voiceline sounds like they used the first take. Like the voice actor is seeing the lines for the first time. I don't know if it's the accent he is going for or the inflection. It sounds as if a non native english speaker is rehearsing.
It's a disappointment since every other EN voice sounds fine more or less.

Hi fellow mamas out there. This is gonna be a long one and I don't even know where to start but I need to share my story because I feel like I'm going insane.
I married my dream guy over 5 years ago. It was love at first sight after many failed relationships and a crappy dating life. I really thought that I had hit the jackpot. He was kind, caring, the sex was amazing, and he would open up to me emotionally almost immediately. There was no wondering, if we were together, if we were serious about each other, we just clicked. Until we didn't.
Two and a half months into the relationship he changed what felt like overnight. He stopped leaving the house except for work, he would reply weirdly to my texts but when we saw each other, everything was fine. Yet, I still knew something was wrong.
Our first fight was when he didn't want to go to dinner with my parents, which he had already known then, it was a big deal to me and he just blew me off and didn't talk to me for days.
And it became a pattern - after every fight he would send me home for days at a time without talking.
As soon as I want to address an issue, he would just shut down and become very defensive. If I were to try harder, he would become real nasty, saying hurtful things, sometime calling me names, just to be left alone. So for years, we haven't talked about our problems properly. After a fight (and a few days of punishing me with attitude) he would just act all normal and pretend like we didn't fight at all.
We have a beautiful kid together and a dog. He doesn't really take care of either. I thought he would step up but it's only gotten worse. He always puts himself and his comfort first, wouldn't do house chores at all, doesn't take the dog out or feed it, he doesn't get groceries or deal with anything that needs to be done. And you've guessed it, it all falls back on me.
I'm working full-time, taking care of everything and trying to stay positive but it's really hard. As soon as I ask him for more support or a morning where I can sleep in, or anything really, he gets annoyed with me until he turns things around and tells me that I've made him feel bad and hence have ruined his day.
He doesn't go out or bond well with our kid, is constantly on his phone or watches TV. He's also drinking daily, not a lot but the addiction is there. He has a lot of past trauma that he hasn't dealt with, tends to get depressed easily and I'm suspecting ASD in some form but it was never diagnosed. He refuses to go to therapy or do anything about working towards improvement. As soon as I say anything in that line of things, I'm crazy, annoying, too emotional.
Lately I've been fantasizing about leaving him and starting over but I have to wait around until we can get out of our apartment loan sometime next year, otherwise I wouldn't be able to afford a place of my own. And then he is nice for a day or two and I start doubting my desire to divorce him. Until his next outburst.
I guess, what I'm looking for here is to learn how to cope with my own emotions. I feel guilty for wanting to leave him but I also feel like I can't stay in this marriage any longer. I come from a toxic relationship with a parent so it's in my nature to want to fix things, I guess that's why I have stayed around for so long. I also feel so emotionally damaged that I don't think I can be in a normal relationship ever again because I'm trained to expect the worst from the guy. So I'm scared to meet new people and open up in the future.
But I also want my kid to grow up in a healthy environment, to see good examples of problem solving and communicating, of how a partnership should be, otherwise I'm afraid or things repeating themselves later on.
How do I survive emotionally one more year?!?

Hi all. Been out of the PC game for quite some time, and am looking to get one built up when tax time hits.
It will be pretty modest, I will be using it to write electronic music ( as a hobby, but still as professional sounding as possible ) and to play rocket league at a high fps.
From what I understand, these days sound is fine out of the box, but an external sound card or audio controller will be required for inputs and outputs? I will look at getting monitor speakers down the line at some point, but for now a good pair of headphones, adequate for music production, will be fine.
Whilst I will dabble in other games, they won't need to look cutting edge, as I prefer mainly gaming on console, so it just needs to have the power to run rocket league at 200+ fps, 1440p preferably but if that considerably ups the price, 1080p for rl is fine, it's not something anyone plays for the graphics.
Obviously I would need a 144Hz monitor for high fps, doesn't have to be a huge panel, something mid range in terms of size would be adequate - I have no idea what's considered massive for a PC monitor these days. I am leaning getting towards a second monitor, one that's of lesser quality and size, so I can have another screen for general browsing and to help with music production.
I'm in Perth, Australia and won't mind having to wait for components to be delivered if it gets me a better deal.
I appreciate any help, I do have a few mates that can help, but I thought I'd see if anybody had a set-up to suit the same purposes I want my PC for, as their advice would be ideal.
Thanks!

Before I was diagnosed with MGD I had a painful eye infection where this white ish goop would come on my water line and would bleed when I tried to remove it. Im pretty sure the infection is gone and goop have lessened a lot but my waterline, specifically my right eye one is not normal. I still feel pain there, it’s bearable and much less painful from when i had my infection but im worried about it. There was a tiny bit of the goo thing on my eye and I took it off with my clean finger and it bled a bit. So it seems like a wound with goo on it for some odd reason. This wound thing (?) is in two spots near eachother on my waterline. I have an appointment with my eye doctor in the end of the month and it’s not possible to get one sooner unless someone cancels, so I wanted to ask if anyone knew what it was. I don’t know if it’s the mgd or still the infection and im worried it can get worse. I do compression S at least once daily and use eye drops and for a few hours during the day my eye feels fine, it always seems to act up when I first wake up and when it’s night.

I currently go to university and am doing a bridging course (as I didn't do all too well in my last year of high school), to get into a better course. I have high hopes and I know I'm capable and have the capacity to do great things in the future. But as of now, I have no job experience, and I am very socially anxious. For some reason I often embarrass myself in even slightly confrontational social situations (like being awkward or clumsy), although it's not like extreme anxiety, it still shakes me in a sense, the more it happens. For this reason I really don't want to work in a place like Mcdonald's or any fast food place. I'd rather work in maybe an op-shop or a 'nicer' environment.
Every time I think about getting a first job my anxiety rises so much. I've been thinking about it for a year, and I still don't know what to do. I've gone to an interview, and it went well, I actually didn't mess up that interview. But my uni schedule just didn't line up with the times they wanted. But now my mother is pressuring me to apply for a Mcdonald's that is a 5-minute walk from my house (which is obviously good), but I get anxious even thinking about it. I work hard in university. Even though I did not prove myself last year, I'm working very differently now. But my mother doesn't see that.
She doesn't understand how anxious I get, and berates me when I tell her that I don't want to apply to a fast-food place. She even tells other people (I hear her conversing on the phone) how I 'for some reason' don't want to work at those places, even though I have told her many times why. She makes it sound as if I'm this weird specimen that she just doesn't understand. And maybe that is it. But I just wish she could try to understand me.
But I also understand why she may be pressuring me so much to get a job now.

1. because she and my dad are getting kind of old now, and they are beginning to become weak, and she needs to know that I'll be ok by myself, and secure in the future (although I'm anxious now, in the future, with better job opportunities, and doing things I like, I will improve and become better, right?).
   
2. because I need to experience talking more with people in those types of situations. I do well in high-pressure situations when I'm by myself, but If there are eyes on me, I fumble.
   
3. and also because many kids, even younger than me (that we know) have jobs and are doing fine. (and maybe she feels slightly embarrassed that I don't have a job), and maybe she wants me to be ok with a job as soon as possible, like them.
   

But this whole thing has been costing me too much energy. I really want to commit fully to my studies this year. And even though my mother doesn't think I'm doing anything (as she continues to tell me to 'live however you want' - in a condescending tone, and that she worked so much harder when she was younger, which is true, as she came from a quite poor background), I'm still trying very hard, which she somehow ignores by default (she never sees me working when I am), and she has no idea or interest in what exactly I am even doing.
I know that I seem like a disappointment to her. She is a very opinionated and strong character, and it was that which got her and my family to where we are today. I really appreciate her for that. But I could never live up to that character. I can never work with people the way she did, and I don't know if I will ever have her drive.
I'm still working hard in my studies right now, but my anxiety gets overwhelming sometimes. I don't want it to consume me. I also don't want to further disappoint my mother (hopefully she will see me differently if I show her good grades in uni). So, what do I do? How do I resolve this issue with my mother? and should I still get a job now, or wait until after my studies?

I was playing skirmish and made a defense line with 2 Flak 38 placements. They were working fine but then AI bombed them and I reinforce one with my engineers and another one with ability from my half-track, but the problem is they won't shoot, not even if I target the ground.
Is anyone else experiencing the same?

Lately I feel like I can add more to my super basic skin care routine to try to reduce signs of aging (34 yrs old). I’ve always had eczema and mostly dry, but somewhat combination skin. I have been using the CeraVe foam cleanser at night, followed by the CeraVe SA cream. Right before bed I put CeraVe healing ointment on my face (but not under my eyes because I was getting milia). I use the Paula’s Choice BHA exfoliant a couple times a week. I just cut down on that. I was applying it every night and I think it was drying me out. The healing ointment is helping my skin retain moisture, which has been a nice change. In the morning I typically use water on my face and occasionally dab the sides of my nose with a wet washcloth cloth to get off any dry skin. I always use the cerave SA cream followed by sun screen during the day too. I’d like to add some more moisture to my routine and prevent/reduce some of the fine lines and sagging pores I am seeing. Any suggestions about how to add hyaluronic acid or anything else to my routine? Thank you in advance and please be nice!!

Finding this subreddit has been so therapeutic and validating for me. I’m 26, married to the love of my life (32M) with the most amazing 5yo stepdaughter.
Reading all of your stories has inspired me to sit down and type out my own. I must warn you, there are times when I am the villain. Buckle up. This is a small novel.
If we start at the very beginning, my DH began dating HCBM (33) when they were very young in their early 20s. Shortly into their relationship it became clear to DH that she was struggling with very severe alcoholism. I cannot even begin to write out all of the stories I have heard from DH about her alcoholism. He was very young, didn’t have a positive model for a healthy relationship as a child. He believed he could help HCBM. They were extremely on and off together for almost 7 years. Every time he’d try to break up with her she would weasel her way back in. She would go as far as showing up at his family events because she had his family wrapped around her finger (don’t worry, that changed. Read on.) She almost drank herself to death several times. The police in her town know her by name and recognize her car because her family has had to call in for welfare checks so many times. She’s had bits where she’s gone missing for several hours. Been listed as a missing person. Had the police ping her phone. I’ve read the police reports myself.
Where do I even begin with her family? Her parents are extremely proud. They own two businesses in their small town. They’re the kind of people who are very obsessed with image and making people think they’re wealthy. HCBM started drinking when she was 16. Her parents would deal with her problem by sweeping it under the rug and hiding it. They cared more about their pride than getting her the help she needed. When they were together, my DH was often the one who would drive her to AA meetings. HCBM didn’t like AA because she felt she was above the other people there. Her family now despises my DH, and weaves a narrative that she drank because of her toxic relationship with him. Though her drinking problems existed long before and after their relationship.
I’ll share a few stores in particular with the goal of establishing the absolute delusion that HCBM feeds to anyone who will listen about my DH.
There was one evening where they were at my DH’s uncle’s house in the city. The thing about HCBM is that you never saw her drink until she was drunk. She’d sneak in a bathroom or what have you to drink. DH and HCBM got into some kind of argument and she ran off into the city late at night. DH spent several hours driving around the city searching for her until he finally found her in a bar, making out with a random guy. He said “you can take her home tonight” and left. Several hours later in the wee hours of the morning, HCBM stumbled back to the uncle’s house, wasted and crying.
Another occasion, DH was at work and HCBM was at his apartment (she did not live there) and went to hang out with his upstairs neighbors who were girls. She got drunk with them. When DH got home, he tried to explain to his neighbors that she had a problem and shouldn’t be drinking…. They said “don’t control her! That’s manipulative”. DH went back downstairs, HCBM followed, and they fought. She ran back to the neighbors crying and the girls stormed down into his apartment saying “What did you do to her? What did you do to her?!”
A different time HCBM was drunk she had locked herself in DH’s roommate’s room. He was trying to explain to her that she needed to come out, that it wasn't his room and she couldn’t be in there. HCBM called DH’s mom (now my MIL) and began wailing “he’s doing it again, he’s being crazy again!” God knows what she was talking about. Eventually DH called HCBM’s dad who came to pick her up. HCBM’s dad dragged her by her arm down the stairs rather roughly, and DH got upset, like “hey I get that she is drunk and being a problem but you can’t manhandle her like that” so HCBM’s dad responded my shoving DH up against a wall and holding his arm to his throat.
Shall I go on? There are dozens more. The worst is yet to come.
Anyways, about four years into their relationship, after multiple incidents of infidelity on her part, DH started chatting with other women sporadically. He says he knew it was wrong, but he thought if he could show himself there were other women out there who could make him happy, other stable relationships he could be in, he might be able to get away from HCBM. It was about five years into their relationship that DH actually cheated. And so begins HCBM’s favorite narrative, that DH was an awful, unsupportive unfaithful partner who drove her to drinking because he was so shady. She will never, ever consider the fact that my DH to this day is traumatized from their relationship. He’s been in therapy several times and every single therapist identifies her as a narcissist.
Several years ago when DH and I met I was in college. We had an on and off fling for a while on the coattails of him trying to end it with HCBM once and for all after over six years stuck in a cycle. I think my DH made poor decisions, dumb even. But I sympathize with the trauma bond he was stuck in with this woman, and how difficult it was for him to cut ties with someone who would go to great lengths to insert herself in his life, and with the pressure of his family saying he should be with her. He cut things off with me and fell back in with HCBM. Lo and behold… HCBM gets pregnant. This may be shocking…. But it was not a good situation to be bringing a baby into. HCBM was 28 at the time. She was (and still is) working for her mom at the business she owns because she had gotten fired from every other job for showing up drunk. A side note, her mom owns a gymnastics center where she is a teacher. My DH has told me about several times her mother would text him to come pick her up because she’d shown up drunk. Her mom would get her out of there and just sub in another instructor to cover her ass. Anyways, DH was terrified. However, DH grew up without a father, so there was no way he wasn’t going to be involved in his child’s life. It is an impossible thing to talk about in hindsight because I love my SD so dearly, she turns mine and DH’s world. But DH told HCBM to terminate initially. And to be fair, he was right. It was not a stable situation to bring a child into. Would I reverse time and change anything? Never in a million years.
As you may have guessed, HCBM decided to keep the baby. She repeatedly told DH that if he left, he would not see his child. DH was stuck and miserable. During her pregnancy, while HDBM was parading about as if they were this cute happy couple, DH began to miss me. He realized he had real feelings for me, and he reached out. I loved him the moment I met him, so I was thrilled. I’ll keep this part concise; DH began cheating on HCBM with me, and I knew. It was an ugly decision on both of our parts. Despite how much I loathe HCBM, she is a person. She did not deserve that. DH and I are both pretty ashamed about our choices back then. I’ll go into detail later about how both DH and I have tried to atone for our actions.
When she was about 7 months pregnant, HCBM caught on and contacted me. Those conversations are forever burned in my mind. She said some of the most disconnected, ridiculous shit I’ve ever seen. She was obsessed with the image she was trying to portray to everyone about her life. I’ll never forget one conversation where we were discussing their daughter’s impending arrival… I had said something along the lines of “do you think it’s wise to bring a child into this situation,” and she said “I have lots of help. I’m old enough.”
“I’m old enough.”
Like she’s a kid trying to convince her parents to let her stay out past midnight.
DH and I broke things off before SD arrived. I was heartbroken, but let’s be real, that was a mess. An entire mess.
Still, HCBM thought it was just a brilliant idea for her and DH to move in together. So her parent’s rented them a house in their small town…. DH kept paying the rent on his apartment the city about 45 minutes away. DH has told me how miserable their relationship was, and HCBM knew all about his affair with me. But like I said, she was desperately trying to create this pretend life for herself.
SD arrives, a day I am so glad to celebrate each year. She is truly the joy of my life. DH cried more than she did. He was instantly in love with his baby girl.
About three weeks later, HCBM is back on the bottle.
DH told me about how he’d come home from work and find her drunk. She’d grab the baby and lock herself in a bedroom and cry. DH feared for his child’s safety.
HCBM was only able to breastfeed for a month or so because she stopped producing milk due to heinous dieting. She was obsessed with getting back to her pre-pregnancy weight. She would eat only miso soup for days on end. This poor relationship to food comes into play later. HCBM’s mother was always over at the house. Cleaning up, buying them things. Contributing to the facade.
DH was severely depressed. He continued to stay with HCBM to monitor her drinking and watch out for his daughter. They got to a point where DH would sleep on the couch. One night DH came home and HCBM was drunk again with SD in her care. DH called her parents who came rushing over to remedy the situation as they always do. Shortly after they arrived, HCBM had slumped over on the couch and became unresponsive. An ambulance was called. DH says it was one of his most traumatic memories holding his baby daughter watching the EMT’s resuscitate her mother wondering how he would raise this girl on his own.
After a hospital stay, HCBM returned home and her parents ordered pizza and put on a movie and pretended as if nothing had happened. That was the routine. When DH expressed his anger, his justifiable concern for what was going on, HCBM’s parents treated him as though he was the problem, he was an asshole for bringing it up and blaming her.
It wasn’t long after this, SD must’ve been around eight months old that HCBM was on a binge and DH returned home from work to find the house empty. He frantically began calling people to locate SD when HCBM’s parents informed him that she was with them, and that HCBM had crawled out a window and was missing. A missing person’s report was filed. HCBM’s father told police to check ditches and park benches, as she could often be found there. She turned out to be at some random man’s house, and was located about 36 hours later.
DH was at the end of his ropes. He took the police report and lawyered up secretly.
Here’s a fun new component to the story, remember how I said that DH had began sleeping on the couch? In said police report, it is documented that DH and HCBM were not in a relationship and were merely roommates. Because that was the situation. Behind the scenes, HCBM had met the man of her dreams. Let’s call him PF….. for psycho fiance. Yes, they’re engaged now. We’ll get to that part. PF randomly messaged HCBM on facebook and they began talking. PF was a recovering alcoholic in his 30s with no driver’s license due to a DUI.
Now, recall when HCBM was missing? Her parents searched through her facebook accounts to try and locate her and found her messages with PF, they explained their daughter’s drinking problem and asked PF if she may be with him. She was not. They had not even met yet. But PF thinks this woman who clearly has severe personal issues is just the cream of the crop. He decides to take her out to lunch. By the end of their lunch date, he is love-bombing the daylights out of her. Calling her his wife, his galaxy, all of this grandiose crap.
Two weeks after they met, PF got HCBM’s name tattooed on him. While DH was trying to sort out a plan of action with his lawyer…. HCBM informs him that he has to move out so that PF can move in because he will soon be without a place to live. She wants to invite this man she’s known for three weeks to live with her and her baby daughter. I’ve seen the message she sent to DH, it reads, “I know it seems fast but I know in my heart that he is so good.” HCBM’s parents are thrilled.
Less than a week after PF had moved in and DH was out, the ex parte motion was filed. DH was granted full emergency custody of SD until a hearing could be held. HCBM did not see SD for nine days… and of course, DH was the villain for this.
At the hearing. DH was awarded majority custody, with HCBM being allowed one overnight a week. PF was not permitted to be present when SD was there for overnights until CPS could investigate.
Now, HCBM’s parents funneled money for lawyers, rent, utilities, basically any adult expense HCBM needs is taken care of by her parents. DH did not have the same luxury. He was working himself to death as a single dad trying to pay for his lawyer while the court battle ensued. Almost two months later, DH contacted me. We hadn’t spoken in close to a year. I was off living my own life almost halfway through college. DH just needed someone to talk to about it, and still had very strong feelings for me. I was a shoulder for him to lean on.
We began hooking up, with no real intention to enter into a relationship. I met SD and would watch her while he was at work. There was an obvious deep love between DH and me, but the circumstances were just so insane. Plus, HCBM despised me, and was weaving stories to the court about how DH was an emotionally abusive partner, a narcissist and the reason for all her drinking.
DH and I did not want the drama of HCBM knowing I was around. Since we were operating under the guise that this was just an indulgence and would end at some point, we kept our interactions a secret.
Then, the universe must’ve thought we were owed some karma for what we did during HCBM’s pregnancy. I was diagnosed with ADHD at age five and have had a prescription for stimulants since a very young age.
One morning I awoke and heard what sounded like tiny wretching from the other room. My medication had spilled out in the bottom of my purse as the safety cap was screwed on crooked. SD was playing on the floor and digging around in my purse. DH noticed her putting something in her mouth, realized it was my medication and immediately ran into the bathroom and began making her puke.
I called poison control who instructed us to bring her to the hospital. She seemed relatively normal, a bit dazed maybe. We called the ER to let them know we’d be arriving. We got there and they stuck charcoal down her throat, drew blood, the whole ordeal.
I brought my medication bottle with me to give to the nurses so they knew what she had ingested and to prove it was a legally obtained prescription. I was frantic and bawling, a nurse comforted me and told me that ingestions are extremely common and we had done the right thing by bringing her in.
SD had an elevated heart rate, was fussy and stressed. She was administered medication to help lower her heart rate and as a result had to be admitted to be monitored. The blood tests came back with extremely minimal amounts of my meds in her system, but it was protocol that she be monitored after the medication was given to regulate her heart. If you’re feeling anxious, I’ll add that SD is perfectly healthy and happy, she fully recovered and did not suffer any seizures or damage to her brain/liver etc. which were the primary concerns with this ingestion.
Since she was being admitted, HD had to inform HCBM. I had told him he should tell her immediately, but he did not want to deal with her reaction or her family arriving. I think this was a poor decision on his part. As flawed a person as she is, I do know that HCBM loves SD very much, and I can sympathize with her wanting to be informed if her daughter was being seen at the hospital.
HCBM and her family arrived, I had left to avoid the fallout and gather some things for DH to drop off while he stayed at the hospital with SD. Naturally, HCBM was in a blind rage that she had not been contacted immediately. She demanded that the CPS worker who was mandated to check in because of the ingestion file a report of negligence. The CPS worker declined, saying that there was no negligence to report. That evening, security was called to remove HCBM from the hospital because she was screaming at DH in the pediatric wing. She was told she could return on her custody day.
I went to visit DH and SD the next day, she was back to her old self and able to go home. We were nowhere near prepared for what was about to ensue.
HCBM had weaved a story that I was addicted to drugs, and that whatever I was doing had to have been in a plastic bag in my purse or how else would SD have gotten into it? HCBM and her lawyer filed an ex parte motion. Now I’m sure most of you are familiar with the workings of family court, but for those of you who aren’t; and ex parte motion is an emergency motion. It is a piece of paper laid in front of a judge. The details can be as vague or exaggerated as the writer pleases them to be, and it is not until a hearing is scheduled can anything be disputed.
HCBM and her lawyer claimed that SD had ‘overdosed’ on stimulant drugs and conveniently failed to mention that they were a legal prescription. More than that, ‘overdose’ was a completely sensationalized description of what had occurred, and not a term used at all by any of the medical professionals nor was it included anywhere in her chart of the incident. SD never lost consciousness. There was never a point where doctors were in fear for her life. But the judge sees what is put before them and signs off with the limited information they are given.
When HD filed an ex parte motion against HCBM, the hearing was scheduled for nine days later. When HCBM filed an ex parte motion against DH, the hearing was scheduled over two months later.
This was the worst time period in DH’s life. He attempted suicide. He lost an insane amount of weight. He sold beloved possessions to pay his lawyer. He did not have custody of his daughter and HCBM allowed him rare visits in public places once or twice a week.
But ah, how the tables turn.
A month before the hearing on the ex parte motion, HCBM got a DUI with SD in the car. Her driving was so ballistic, someone had called in her car. She was arrested. I could go into detail about the bullshit-ery of her and her family I read in the police report from that, but there is still so much ground to cover.
CPS notified DH of the DUI. HCBM and her lawyer told DH’s lawyer they wanted to settle custody outside of court before the ex parte hearing.
DH was exhausted. He was broke. He just wanted his daughter back. He settled with HCBM on 50/50 custody. This is perhaps the greatest regret of his life. The GAL at the meeting even told DH he didn’t have to do this, that he could fight her and probably get more custody. But DH was a shell of a person at this point. He was in debt. He was exhausted.
Mere days after they settled he checked himself into an inpatient mental health facility for treatment. He and I were in touch every once in a while throughout that entire time, but had ended our romantic relations after the ex parte was filed. I was more of a confidant and friend, but he had drifted apart from everyone in his life and I was focused on school.
The day that DH left inpatient, PF messaged him to tell him that HCBM had slipped up and drank again. Saying, “she just has such a big heart, this is so difficult for her.” DH suspects that she had gotten herself into another nearly lethal situation or gone missing and PF was hoping to do damage control by contacting him rather than him finding out another way.
So 50/50 custody it was. Nine months later, HCBM gave birth to her and PF’s son. I’m not sure of any exact dates but judging by the date of that message and the birth of the baby there is a high change HCBM was drinking while unknowingly pregnant.
For the DUI, HCBM was sentenced to 40 days in jail while pregnant with her son. It was a work release program. Since she worked for her mom, she worked as many hours as she possibly could. Her mom would pick her up from prison with her phone and her makeup so she could hide what was going on from her coworkers and the community. DH would bring SD to the gymnastics center to visit her. She had an IED put into her car when she was released, meaning she had to blow into a breathalyzer to get her car to start.
DH and I would check in every once in a while over the course of the next year. We both dated other people. HCBM of course had issues with DH’s girlfriend he was with for a few months. But things had relatively settled save for the tension and resentment between HCBM and DH.
More than a year had passed since everything transpired and since DH and I were last romantically involved. We began talking more frequently during COVID lockdown and DH admitted he was hopelessly in love with me and wanted to be together. We had a major problem though.
When HCBM and DH were settling on their custody agreement, HCBM insisted I was not to be around SD. If you recall, HD was broke, exhausted, and severely struggling with his mental health. He and I hadn’t seen each other in person in several months, we talked but very infrequently and never of rekindling our relationship in any capacity. So he gave in. As long as he could be done with the nightmare and have his daughter back.
A single sentence in a five-page custody agreement meant that I couldn’t be around SD. I want to specify, this was not a restraining order. I was never served any papers, I would not be punished in any capacity were I to see SD, there was no court record of any kind indicating that I was restricted from seeing a child or was a dangerous individual. DH wouldn’t even lose custody or face any legal ramifications were he to violate that single sentence, it would just mean an official would have to intervene to investigate and ensure the stipulation be adhered to. Still, it would’ve prevented us from having any sort of real relationship. So we filed a motion to have the line removed. I had not seen SD in well over a year and we abided by the order which was exceedingly painful.
The first hearing was before a court commissioner. We came armed with letters of recommendation from friends and family, from the families I had nannied for during college. DH’s family had finally seen the light and turned against HCBM and attended the court hearing, filing the seats.
The court commissioner spent about ten minutes reviewing our plea, and decided this was not a matter of my character or whether I was a threat to SD, but that this was a communication issue between DH and HCBM, and since DH had agreed to this, they needed to work it out between the two of them.
Ha. Like that would ever happen. DH and HCBM began communicating through a court monitored app and attending co parenting counseling while our lawyer filed a motion to bring the issue before a judge and have a GAL and Family Court Worker appointed. As we all know with family court, things move slowly and this we had to wait months to make progress on our case.
Co parenting counseling was fruitless. HCBM is not capable of accountability. She insisted DH was a narcissist because she’d read about narcissism on the internet and she believed she deserved full custody of SD.
A judge appointed a GAL and Family Court Worker to our case. I’ll never forget the relief that day as the judge told HCBM that me being in SD’s life was inevitable at this point. There was no evidence that I was a dangerous person. At one point, our lawyer brought up the language used in HCBM’s ex parte motion all that time ago, pointing out the sensational language used, specifically the term “overdose”. I was shaking when HCBM’s lawyer admitted to the judge that “there was no overdose.” I’ll never forget the sheepish look on that lawyer’s face, or how HCBM’s jaw tightened as she refused to look even a millimeter in my direction.
Everyone met with the GAL and Family Court Worker. Of course HCBM got the earliest appointment possible so she could try to sell her story. When I sat down with the GAL he said “I don’t know why you’re here, to be honest.” But that’s the ridiculous thing about family court, people can just spew this insane shit and it has to be looked into.
Both the GAL and Family Court Worker recommended the line be removed entirely. We still had to wait another month for our hearing for these recommendations to be made to the judge. Over the course of these proceedings, DH and his lawyer (with my consent) had been urging HCBM to attend a co parenting counseling session with me to address her concerns. HCBM of course vehemently refused, actually speaking to me would destroy the picture she had painted and deluded herself into believing about me.
We continued to press the issue though. After the GAL and Family Court Worker’s recommendations were passed on to everyone’s lawyers, it was clear this was not going to go in HCBM’s favor. It could’ve easily been settled outside of court, saved everyone time and money. But that was never going to happen, HCBM was going to go down swinging. Less than two weeks from our final hearing before the judge, HCBM agreed to attend co parenting counseling with me. Both parties signed NDA’s before going into these sessions, they were meant to be mediation for parents to work out their issues and not dig up fodder to toss around in court. A safe place, if you will. DH and I suspected she’d want to attend a session with me so she could fabricate some story about me being awful, or make it seem like she was being reasonable since she’d refused any and all attempts to mediate this issue civilly.
We were correct, but her feeble attempts at control were fruitless and the line was removed. I could see my girl again. Since then, DH and I got married and have been in absolute bliss as a family of three. But of course, the mess with HCBM does not stop there.
DH and I have no idea it HCBM has been drinking or not. We have no proof. She claims she got sober, but she never received any professional help or rehab so that seems doubtful to me. There are a few red flags. She now shares a car with her mother, claiming her car has “been in the shop” for well over a year now. DH explained that when she would go on drinking binges, her parents would take her car away so they could control where she went and monitor her.
We’ve also had the issue of SD not wanting to go to her mom’s house. I have ring video footage of HCBM coming to pick up SD. SD was in hysterics, she ran back in our house several times while HCBM stands annoyed in the driveway. DH sits with her and consoles her, encouraging her and telling her she will have so much fun with her mom and brother. On this particular occasion, it took 45 minutes to get SD to go with her mom. This happened numerous times. DH eventually brought this up to HCBM, expressing his concerns and saying that he wished she would participate in co-parenting their daughter in these situations rather than hiding behind her car. HCBM dismissed him, saying she was a great parent and he was obviously making SD act this way. Give SD an oscar at this point. I can’t even fathom what DH would say to make a five year old act that way.
Eventually, HCBM stopped picking SD up and instead sent her mom to get her. SD has no issue going with her grandmother. A bit suspicious to me that it was specifically her mom that caused such an upset for her.
HCBM is very obsessed with image. She dresses SD in expensive outfits with intricate hairstyles. I should add, expensive outfits that are purchased for her by HCBM’s mother. She has told DH that she is not pleased with how he sends SD to school and has concerns about his ability to parent. He sends her… a 5 year old… to school in leggings and t-shirts like the rest of the 5 year olds in her class. Don’t get me wrong, I love to dress SD up when she’ll let me and I have indulged in Rylee and Cru outfits and what not, but the majority of the time SD wears normal kid clothes. She runs and jumps and plays and likes pink and sparkles and tops with her favorite characters on them. We let her pick her crazy mismatched outfits and throw her hair up in a quick bun or braid so it is out of her face. She bathes almost excessively because she loves the bath and is a very well looked after child.
Now, HCBM lost a significant amount of weight after she got together with PF. Her mother is also extremely thin. DH has told me about how they were always doing fad diets, they’d call themselves fat and critique their appearances constantly and clearly did not have a healthy relationship to their bodies or food.
At our home, SD is fed a balanced diet but I try to encourage a positive relationship to her body and food. No food is “good” or “bad,” they simply serve different purposes. For example, carbs give us energy, protein helps us grow, sugar makes us happy, etc. Creating guilt around eating certain types of food can lead to eating disorders, body image issues, I know because I had a poor relationship to food and my body for so long. SD loves fruits and veggies. She also loves chips and candy. She is allowed to indulge in sugar within reason and without guilt. I don’t think it's rocket science, and for us it has had fantastic results. We'll be at a gas station and ask SD if she wants a snack and the kid will want celery. I follow the instagram page “kids eat in color” very closely and when we prepare SD’s meals, the “treat” component is served together with the rest and not withheld until later. This is so SD doesn’t view certain foods as special or more desirable than others, and won’t associate treat foods with this rush of excitement and overwhelming positivity moreso than say chicken nuggets or carrots. When DH sets down her plate to eat, SD rarely if ever reaches for her treat food first. She eats everything on her plate until her body tells her she’s full.
HCBM constantly berates DH about SD eating “healthy.” She criticizes him for getting candy at the movies. Goes off about her having a cup of sugar-free pudding at 11 a.m. On Halloween, SD is allowed two pieces of candy from her trick or treat pile at her mom’s house.
Last Halloween at our house, we dumped all of our candy out in a huge pile and watched a movie. SD ate, I kid you not, four pieces of candy. She didn’t feel the need to binge on all this candy because she knew it wouldn’t be withheld if she asked for more in our home. There is still halloween candy in a bucket in our pantry and we weren’t even out trick or treating for an hour.
HCBM accuses us of “competing” with her. This. Is. Rich. SD loves visiting my parent’s and sometime last fall took a liking to playing my dad’s drumset. Later that week, HCBM bought her a kid-sized drumset. We adopted a kitten, HCBM adopted a kitten. We started playing barbies as a family, HCBM buys a barbie dreamhouse. We planned a weekend trip to a big city a few hours away, HCBM and PF take SD and their son to that city the week before we’re supposed to go. My husband is a Dungeons and Dragons fanatic, and recently he has been making kid friendly campaigns for the three of us to play as a family. SD loves playing dungeons and dragons with her daddy. It has become our family’s thing. The dungeons and dragons movie came out recently and DH and I got tickets for an early screening on a day we didn’t have SD. Who do you think we saw there while we were waiting in line to get popcorn? Their family does not play dungeons and dragons. You’ll be pleased to know that SD came down to sit with us for the last half hour of the movie, PF who had taken her had to give in because they were seated a row behind us and she kept leaning forward to excitedly whisper to DH about the movie.
I have suffered extreme emotional issues due to the abuse from HCBM. I’ve attended therapy specifically to address it. I developed severe social anxiety because HCBM will tell anyone who listens these fictions about me and DH. We live in a small community, one that HCBM and her family have been a part of for a long time and I am constantly afraid people I meet will know them and have these crazy ideas about who I am as a person. The flipside of this is that their family’s reputation is not as positive as they like to think it is, particularly to police in the area. In addition to HCBM’s drunk escapades involving police, her father has a court record pages long for tax fraud.
Thankfully, I work in the city 30 minutes from where we live and that has allowed me to build my own village and have a life untainted by HCBM and her crap. Through lots of work I have been able to establish firm boundaries. I’ve had to restrict HCBM and her friends from my social media accounts after being watched obsessively. HCBM’s mother even went as far as messaging my mother on Facebook to try and say DH is a narcissist and she should be concerned for me. DH and my mom are very close, and my mom was mainly worried about how far these people were going to go to untether my life.
HCBM doesn’t seem to understand the concept of equal guardianship. She views herself as the primary parent and believes she should have access to everything in our lives. This is legally not the case so luckily we’re just able to ignore those demands but it gets taxing.
HCBM’s parents pay for SD’s health insurance so HCBM makes all of her doctor and dentist appointments and acts as though that’s because DH is an uninvolved parent, despite the fact that he has asked to make appointments on his custody days so he could go. I have excellent benefits at my job and could take SD on as a dependent since she resides with us 50% of the time. We haven’t even proposed this idea to HCBM because god knows she would never agree despite the fact that this would probably save her parents a ton of money.
HCBM has SD involved in several activities on her custody days. A bit too many for a five year old in my opinion. Multiple gymnastics and dance classes and soccer. Since HCBM’s parents are always funneling her money and paying her bills they are constantly going out to do expensive activities, weekend trips, shows, you name it. HCBM thinks these things make her a good parent, but I personally don’t think that SD feels as emotionally attached to HCBM as she does DH. DH and I spend a ton of one on one time with SD. We play with her with her toys, we do crafts, we watch movies together. HCBM thinks dropping her off at some expensive activity makes her this stellar mom, but she doesn’t engage in the same level of connection with SD that DH does. HCBM’s parents of course bought them a trip to Disney World last year, and the day they came to pick up SD to leave for the airport she did not want to go. She began crying and insisting she wanted her dad to take her, and that she would miss him too much. What five year old objects to effing Disney World??
We have issues on the horizon with SD attending kindergarten next year. I know a battle will ensue about where she attends. The custody schedule does not give us any weekend time because when it was written, SD was one and DH was working weekends and the days they agreed on coincided with his schedule. This means that when SD attends school in the fall five days a week, we will not get a full day together as a family. DH and I are very nervous about addressing this. We don’t have any desire to change the 50/50 custody, just to adjust the days so that we can have some weekend time with SD. It is likely this issue will end up in court and cost us thousands.
I have had to come to the hard acceptance that this is just how our relationship with HCBM will be, likely forever. I hold on to selfish hope that she may screw up drinking again, but at the end of the day I want what is best for SD which is a healthy and stable mother and I will do whatever I can to encourage a positive relationship for them. At this point we have no proof of her drinking for the past few years. Either she miraculously stopped or her family’s response is just so calculated to protect her from getting into any shit and jeopardizing her custody. If that is the case, that can only go on for so long before SD is old enough to tell us what is happening.
I think that HCBM is deeply insecure and ashamed. I think she needs to make DH and I the villains so she feels better about herself. I think her upbringing has allowed her to shirk any and all accountability, she is surrounded by people who tell her she’s never wrong and she’s this great person and great parent.
I don’t know what the resolution is here. If you have read this far, thank you sincerely. Though I confide in my mom and friends about the situation with HCBM, I keep my venting to a minimum so as not to let her live rent free in my life. I am not going to spend all this energy being pissed at her and her immaturity. I’m not going to give her the satisfaction of getting on my nerves, being the subject of my conversations. I’m not even going to let her think I care enough to trash her to people. But it feels extremely therapeutic to get this all out to a group of people who understand.

Lothli woke up bright and early this Saturday, as always. Then, with a yawn, she checked her phone: April 1st.
Was there something important happening today? I don’t quite remember…
Her thoughts were quickly swept away by the mundanity of her morning routine. Pulling on clothes, brushing her teeth, doing her hair…
And so, she was entirely caught off guard when she arrived in the kitchen.
Her twin sister cackled like a madwoman, stirring a gigantic cauldron smelling burnt iron, cotton candy, and writer’s tears.
“Maishul, what exactly have you done?” Lothli sighed, ambling over to the bubbling cauldron.
“This? Oh, just a little April Fool’s prank!” the other twin giggled before pulling out a miniature figurine of a strange humanoid insect. With a snap of her fingers, the statuette grew to full size, glancing around warily.
“Oh goodness! What’s going on here?” the moth woman exclaimed, seeming more confused than frightened. “What kind of insect are you? I’ve never seen anyone with just four limbs like you two!”
Lothli turned to Maishul, a frown on her face. “Is this Minerva? Did you STEAL her? We’re going to get banned, you know.”
The other twin continued cackling, heedless of Lothli’s wrath. “No, no, I got permission! Look!”
Indeed, the paper Maishul pulled out did have the signatures of one, two… how many authors?!
“Maishul, what the heck have you done?” Lothli huffed. “This is— how do we—”
“Excuse me, but I believe I may be lost?” Minerva asked, her wings fluttering nervously. “While I would love to ask the two of you some questions, I need to return to my lab, if you could point me in the right direction?”
“Oh, I apologize, Dr. Minerva. You’re currently experiencing a dream. Please do forget about this,” Lothli sighed before snapping her fingers and reverting the insectoid woman to her figurine form.
“How exactly are we going to explain this to Polaris?” Lothli deadpanned with her gaze on her happy-go-lucky sibling.
“Oh, I have a good ‘ol industrial barrel of Remove-Yo-Memory. I’m sure it’ll turn out fine!” Maishul grinned back. “Look, look! Let me show you what wonderful scenes I’ve cooked up for everyone!”
Scene One: Art’s Very Bad, No Good Day
I was not having a good day. First, I was thrown into yet another random plane of existence. Dimension hopping was something I wanted to experience no more than one time in my life; thank you very much. And yet, here I was. In yet another random plane of existence with absolutely no say.
“Iklem.”
Second all, I found myself surrounded by these strange creatures. Four legs, shimmering black pelt, bizarre snake-like neck, flat head, creepy singular eye, and that weirdly human voice. Definitely not a fan.
“Iklem.”
The three Iklems crept—
Ahem. The plural of Iklem is Iklemli, Art.
And thirdly, that obnoxious voice ringing out in my head. Who was that? Why were they in my head? And why could they read my thoughts?
Fine. The three Iklemli crept closer and closer, predatory intent clear. I backed away slowly before my phone suddenly burst out with the cheery tune of Weird Al singing, “Just eat it (eat it), eat it (eat it)...”
“I’m in the mother of all situations here, Demoness, and you choose a freaking parody song? Can you at least tell me what the hell is happening here?” I snarled into my phone’s mic, watching the approaching monsters closely.
“M’dear, I hate to say it, but I have no clue what’s happening.” The slight strain in the Demoness’s usually sultry voice gave me pause. That Demoness? Confused? I really was in some deep shit, wasn’t I?
“Could you at least tell me what an Iklem is?” I said, imitating those creatures as best I could.
“My love, how do I explain this? As best as I could tell, at least five foreign dimensions have been forced together into one singular mess. And whoever did it had no grace or finesse at all.”
Tell the Demoness that she has no grace or finesse, either! Hmph!
Rolling my eyes, I communicated the feelings of my new head neighbor to the Demoness.
“Well, dear, tell your new friend that they should consider undoing this fiasco,” the Demoness replied with a sigh. “Whatever the case is, those Iklemli you mentioned are from one of those other dimensions. I can’t tell you a thing about them.”
With that good news, I turned back to the advancing beasts. This was going to be a fun one…
“Maishul, you can’t just break the fourth wall and shove your thoughts into the scene,” Lothli huffed, shaking her head.
“Pfffft!” Maishul blew a raspberry before turning back to her abomination of a cauldron.
“Also, you can’t just swap to first-person narration. We’re in third-person narration.”
“Well, Matt writes in first-person. And I respect our fellow author’s intent; thank you very much!”
Lothli raised an eyebrow in response before pointing to the bubbling cauldron of doom. “You call THAT respecting our fellow authors’ intents?”
“They gave permission!” Maishul pouted before turning back to her inglorious creation. “And you won’t complain once you see my next glorious scene!”
Scene Two: Sloth Squared
Pride’s scowl only grew deeper as he dragged his erstwhile companion along. The swampland around them had warped into a blooming forest, with trees looming large overhead. The various fully intact buildings were most concerning, indicating that the pair had passed into a rift.
“Sloth, GET UP!” he hissed, shaking the lazy layabout.
“Huh? Wuzzit? I’m sleepin…” Sloth snored, already back asleep.
“We’ve got a MAJOR problem here. Pretty sure a rift opened around us, so stay on guard!”
Sloth blearily stumbled to his feet before glancing wide-eyed at his surroundings.
“Holy cow, you’re right! I didn’t even notice. But, man, Pride, I’m so tired… I…” Sloth stumbled a bit further before faceplanting directly into a bed of flowers.
“Dammit, Sloth. This is ridiculous, even for your standards.” Pride leaned down to pick Sloth back up, but something strange was afoot. As soon as he leaned down, an overwhelming surge of exhaustion passed through him as well, and he collapsed on top of his companion.
“Dude, you’re sleeping right on top of a good patch. Can you two move?” A voice lazily drifted into Pride’s mind before he rocketed up ramrod straight.
“Hwa— what!? Oh. A rifter.” Pride composed himself as he stared down at the man who awoke him. About five foot six, with short white hair and red eyes.
“Uh, I’m not a rifter or whatever you just called me. I’m Clear, prince of Sloth. And you?” Clear tilted his head.
“Prince… of me? Ehehe, there’s no prince of me…” Sloth murmured in his sleep.
“Typical rifter, spewing nonsense. Come on, you lazy bum. We’re gonna hide before this gets violent.” Pride turned to drag Sloth away but found his legs unwilling to move.
“Hey, man. C’mon now. You haven’t noticed you’re in a dream yet?” Clear said, his hand extended. “Let’s just talk, alright?”
Pride struggled for a few more moments, then back at Clear. “Alright, alright, never seen a rifter do that before. Calm down, yeah? I’ll chat until this rift collapses.”
“So please, introduce yourself properly this time,” Clear responded, freeing Pride with a flick of his hand.
“Right. I’m Pride, that’s Sloth.” Pride pointed at himself, then at his companion. “Can we go?” “No. Please explain what you are doing here and those wings on your back.” Clear yawned. “Also, don’t use our nation’s name as a moniker. It’s probably disrespectful… or something. Eh, we don’t actually care that much.”
“Huh? We’re here because your stupid rift pulled us in,” Pride hissed. “And these wings? We were born with ’em. No story here. Also, pretty sure we were the ones who had those names first.”
“Eh, the kingdom of Pride wouldn’t be very happy to hear about that,” Clear responded. “But whatever, man. Things have been rather chill ever since a random blob named Sparky fell on top of the Demon King and ate him or whatever. So enjoy the nap, I guess. Mind if I join in?”
Pride rolled his eyes before scooting over to allow Clear access to the flowers. Before long, Sloth and Clear were snuggled up together, much to the chagrin of Pride.
“What the hell am I supposed to do now?”
“Aren’t they just the cutest?!” Maishul exclaimed. “We should make that our newest OTP. I bet Haru would approve.”
“Please don’t ship characters across two different SerSuns,” Lothli replied with a shake of her head. “Also what was that about Sparky eating the Demon King—”
“OKAYNEXTSCENE!!”
Scene Three: Machines, Demons, and The World Tree
There was a rather strange rash of oddly dressed folk in Lugavya lately. Or rather, just odd folk in general.
Rumors flew of a human with bird wings who passed over the town, carried through hurried whispers between the residents. A strange man with fierce red eyes insisting on making ‘deals,’ much to the annoyance of passersby trying to get through their day.
Lena and Veska had met to investigate, unable to keep themselves still while such strange events abounded. No sooner had the two exchanged greetings did two strange men approach, flagrantly discarding any sensibilities on their right to free speech.
“Hello!” the younger one called out before getting his head gently bonked by the older.
“W-what was it? Oh! The greeting we use should have been ‘well met,’ right?” the teenage boy puzzled himself, rubbing his head.
“No. Firstly, as foreign visitors, we do not use that greeting. Secondly, we do not greet them. They greet us,” the older whispered, turning his eyes to Lena and Veska. It seemed at least one of them remembered their manners.
“Peace, strangers. We will not begrudge you for your transgressions. Tell me, what business have you with us?” Lena began.
“We are looking for directions. We have lost our way. Please, would you tell us our current location? Latitude and longitude are preferred, but any notable landmarks will do.” The older man bowed slightly, with the younger following shortly after.
Latitude? Longitude? These words were unfamiliar to Lena and Veska.
“This is Lugavya. Home to Alvedos, the World Tree?” Veska explained, an eyebrow raised. Were these folks raised under a rock or something?
The two men conversed among themselves, their frowns deepening.
“Apologies, but I am unaware of Lugavya. Could you perhaps point us in the direction of the United States?” the older asked, tilting his head slightly.
“Oh, and if you know of any demons, could you put in a word for me? I can’t figure out the ritual to get home without one of them…” the younger added.
The United States? Demons? More unfamiliar terms. Lena and Veska knew these newcomers were oddballs, but this was a bit much.
“I’m sorry—really! But we simply don’t have the knowledge to help the two of you. Perhaps you could head to the Foresters? I’ll give you their location.” Lena rattled off directions to the nearby Foresters’ hall.
“Thank you very much.” The older man stalked off after a stiff bow, and the younger man quickly followed.
“Sticks and stones, what is the world coming to?”
“Was that Megan’s SerSun? All that intricately balanced worldbuilding, and you just shoved random crap in.” Lothli barely held back a sigh. “Also, you didn’t even introduce those two characters. How are our readers supposed to know who they are?”
“This is left as an exercise to the reader,” Maishul tittered into the camera before returning to the glorious mess in her cauldron.
“Next scene!”
Scene Four: The One With No Chill
There wasn’t much that could faze a Huntress.
It was often said that their wills were unshakable. Nothing could cause them to stop them from single-mindedly accomplishing their goal. And yet, Olivia stood dead in her tracks, staring at the abomination across the Dam square.
“I AM OLIVIA. DARK HUNTRESS. SMASHER OF SQUEAKERS. AND THE ONE WITH NO CHILL,” the awful creature that vaguely resembled Olivia boomed.
“That young lass a friend of yours?” Barlow remarked, barely holding back a chuckle.
“Nope.” Olivia chucked one of her daggers at the offending sight, but she deflected the blade with a ripple of its musculature.
“You are weak. You have no strength. Witness me, false Olivia.” The muscle monster took up a ridiculous pose, her muscles overtly flexing.
“I will destroy you. And after that, I will destroy your creator. And I’ll salt your entire bloodline, while I’m at it,” Olivia snarled.
“I would like to see you try, false Olivia. Last time, I was overcome by the power of the Deus Ex Machina. But this time, I will not be struck down.” The monster took a step forward, the cobblestones cracking under her feet.
Olivia flinched. A Huntress does not feel fear. A Huntress does not back down. Yet… in the face of this horrible being… Her mind recalled the near-death experience she had with the Beast. Did she really want to face that again?
She shook her head, clearing it. No. She would finish this. Olivia raced at the mocking facsimile of herself, her onyx daggers at the ready. As she drew closer, she summoned every ounce of strength and struck.
As Olivia flew through the air, the world seemed to slow down.
Ah… this feels… familiar…
“‘Admittedly, Huntress, you are quite the entertainer—”
“No!” Lothli slapped the figurines out of Maishul’s hands, sinking them into the dreadful mire of the cauldron below. “You can’t reuse that line for the third time!”
“But you used it, Lothli. That’s hypocritical!” Maishul harrumphed.
“Yes, because it was the first time we used it. You can’t just reuse jokes like that!” Lothli glared. “And don’t think I forgot about that comment Clear made about Sparky. What. Exactly. Did you do?”
“Uhm, uhh…” Maishul stuttered. “W-Well, I maybe kinda spilled some my Story-Breaking-Plot-Devices into the cauldron on accident…”
“Your WHATS?!” Lothli stared at her twin in disbelief.
“Uhh, it wasn’t a big deal or anything. Just, uh... Scarlet, the Demon King, Sparky, Wan, Pre-Geas Dread Lord Ardus, the plague from , the Deus Ex Machina, the Beast, and the entirety of the United States’ arsenal of nuclear weaponry.”
Lothli shook her head with a sigh. “I’m pretty sure you caused mass human extinction at least three times over.”
“Well! No time to worry about it! Next scene!”
Scene Five: Bea and Ophelia Discover The Wonders of Nuclear Physics
Bea and Ophelia stared at the booklet that had just materialized before them. “Maishul’s Simple Guide to Stealing and Utilizing the Entirety of the United States’ Arsenal of Nuclear Weaponry: For Dummies!” The booklet was decorated with garish stickers of rainbows and glitter, along with cartoonish mushroom clouds.
With a glance at Ophelia, Bea picked up the book. Immediately, her mind was flooded with images and knowledge. Where exactly every nuclear silo in the United States was located. The launch codes and how to bypass the two-key rule. The birth and loving families of each and every nuclear warhead…?
“Bea? Dear? Are you alright?” Ophelia shook Bea gently, concerned. Bea wordlessly handed over the booklet and watched the same information flow through her. The two shared a meaningful glance before turning the manual over. A bright red button sat there, glowing ominously amongst the childish stickers and drawings of shocked faces.
“This is absolutely too dangerous to be left just lying around,” Bea murmured, staring at the booklet intently. Maybe it was a prank some lesser fae put together to induce some concerning but ultimately harmless illusions. But deep down, the two knew this was far more sinister than a simple prank. Plus, there was no fae named “Maishul” that either of them knew of.
“I’m going to have to seal this thing away with the strongest magic I have,” Ophelia declared. With a wave of her hand, ethereal chains weaved around the book. Magical seals whirled through the air, all concentrated on the offending manual. The horrors of nuclear annihilation have been contained with a final clap of her hands.
For around five seconds. Immediately after the ritual was complete, as if to spite Ophelia’s work, a glowing sword descended from the heavens, slicing through the glowing chains and seals like butter. The two barely managed to glimpse the name written on the side: “The Deus Ex Machina,” before the blade landed squarely on the big red button with a satisfying click!
“Shit.”
“So what exactly were you saying about ‘not worrying about it’?” Lothli shook her head in dismay. “How are we going to explain this mess to their poor, poor writers? What are we going to say to Bay?”
“It’ll be fine! I’m not breaking any of the rules on shortstories, which means I totally can’t be banned!” Maishul quipped cheerily.
“That is 100% not how it works.” Lothli crossed her arms. “Don’t drag me down with you.”
“I dunno! You’ll bail me out, right?” Maishul shrugged before returning to her appalling project. “Next scene!”
Scene Six: Sanguia Loses a Fight
These were the end times. The world felt… sideways. The government was in shambles. A plague that turned people into fine, yellow dust had apparently appeared, sweeping the continent from east to west. Yet, there was nothing I could do. Right in front of me, I had my own foes to contend with on the roof of Holos Lucidium.
On my right was a shapeless mass, writhing and transforming, throwing vicious barbs my way. It never introduced itself, but I knew its name from within myself: the Beast.
On my left was a much more innocent figure, at least on the surface. He had slicked-back black hair, brown eyes simmering with self-assured pride, and an easy smirk. And to cap it off, he introduced himself promptly and with great gusto; he was Dread Lord Ardus.
I could attempt to flee, but what purpose would that serve? Even if I got away, which my gut told me was highly unlikely, I would be abandoning my guild to die to these two monsters. So no. I stood my ground here.
“Sanguia. Member of Holos Lucidium.” I balanced my stance between my two flanks, watching both. With a smirk from Ardus and a ripple from the Beast, the fight began.
I quickly discarded the idea of even fighting the rippling mass on my right. It had no blood I could control, and impacting it with my blade would make me stuck. But the Dread Lord was no slouch, either.
As I rushed at Ardus, a tingle in my spine screamed at me to duck. I tucked into a combat roll as a great blast of flame roared right where I used to be.
“Fiesty, aren’t you? Well, that’s what makes it fun,” the Dread Lord growled, licking his lips.
I had no time to respond as a raging, shimmering bull attempted to ram its gleaming horns directly through me. I sprung off the ground, landing just behind the writhing bull. There was no time to go on the offensive; it took all I could to stay alive.
“Stop struggling, Interloper,” the Beast snarled. “I have plans I have to attend to. Plans that do not involve you.”
I kept the undulating mass between myself and my second opponent. My only hope was to promote crossfire. The dagger I held in my right hand felt woefully inadequate for this task.
“You heard the fella. I’ll end this, here and now.” Ardus thrust his hand straight up into the air as if grasping something far above him.
“Dread Lord. May I take this as a sign of betrayal?” The Beast rumbled, a dangerous edge to its voice.
“Nah, I never said I was working with you. You’re too… icky for my tastes.” The Dread Lord tapped his chin thoughtfully. “It’s a good thing you’ll be obliterated in an instant. Ta ta!”
I looked up with a heavy heart, knowing how outclassed I was. There was barely time to say goodbye before a massive ball of light enveloped me in its all-consuming shine. The last thing I managed to think was:
That was an utterly unfair fight.
“Well, the protagonist of our SerSun just died. What now?” Lothli looked at the cauldron in dismay.
“Hey, it’s not so bad! Scarlet is still alive, right?” Maishul dug around in the cauldron before pulling out yet another distended scene. “Look! Here she is!”
“What… is that?” Lothli looked at the scene with equal parts awe and disgust.
“Oh! Well, I really liked Fye’s SerSun, so I made my own! Isn’t it great?”
“Maishul, I think you missed the entire point of his SerSun. Where’s the inter-character drama? Where’s the mystery? Where’s the actual HISTORY?” Lothli poked the off-kilter scene with distaste. “This version of the story is just <Murder.>.”
“Well too bad, dear ‘ol sis! Here! We! Go!”
Scene Seven: Murder Without the History
Hi, I’m Benedict Lushon, Ben for short. Somehow, I think I just unlocked the secret to teleportation. I stand in the middle of the mansion’s dining room, feeling my stomach turn violently. One moment, I was chained in front of a cackling Kyle, and the next thing I know, we’re back in this blasted room. I crane my head, checking who else is here.
Teddy, check. His monocle and top hat are still crooked as he looks around the room, just as confused as I.
Cornell, check. Unfortunately, he still seems to be out cold.
Kyle, check. Wait—
I stride up to Kyle and grab onto his lapels. “What exactly have you done?” I say, shaking him back and forth.
Unfortunately, he seems even more confused by the current events than I am, judging by the bulging eyes and frothing at the mouth.
“W-What exactly happened here!? We were just— and then—” my former coworker manages to sputter out before a booming feminine voice rings out from the walls.
“Heya! What’s up, characters! It’s me, ya girl Maishul, back at it again with another fun murdery twist!” The cheery voice that booms out from the walls contrasts with all the horrors we’ve seen thus far. Also, who talks like this? Did we get kidnapped by one of those Instagram influencers? Ugh, I hate those kinds of people.
“Who are you?! What have you done?!” Kyle screams, his voice cracking. “I have waited YEARS to take my revenge on these fools, and you—”
“Oh. You.” The voice seems displeased at the interruption. “Sorry, I didn’t think your Tuffy plotline was interesting, so I retconned it!”
Now, that was the mark of a bad writer. As a future multi-bestselling author, I know that one of the most sinful things a writer can do is randomly retcon the story. I’m confident this random influencer girl will never go anywhere in her writing career.
“YOU! We were known as the Tufforo family, and we—” Kyle rages before being cut off by the voice again.
“Sorry, don’t care.” A piece of duct tape manifests itself directly onto Kyle’s mouth. I would find it funny if it didn’t demonstrate how supernatural this influencer’s power seems.
“Anyways! Here’s the rules. I’m not really good at that being cryptic thing, so it’ll be easy!” the voice announces with glee. “Here’s my super special sparkly OC, do not steal, known as Scarlet, Scourge of the Americas. She’ll try and chase you down! She wins when you’re all dead. You all win when, I don’t know, she dies of old age or something. You can try to kill her; it won’t work!”
‘Super special sparkly OC, do not steal?’ So, what, did I find myself in some hellish parody of Earth? That must be it. This must all be a very terrible dream. I sincerely hope that none of my readers would ever consider making fanfiction like this of my stories.
“By jove, those rules seem downright unfair!” Teddy finally seems to have found his voice. “Please, good madam, could you let us go? We have already suffered at the hands of that accursed man—”
“Lalala, can’t hear you!” the girl’s voice sang out. “Here she comes! Give it up for… Scarlet!”
A hidden panel drops a… rather regular-looking young woman onto the floor. Why, if I were in charge, I would have ensured that my villain would have a spectacular appearance. Someone as fascinating and spellbinding as Jack the Ripper—
Scarlet dashes at Kyle and [REDACTED]
… … Technical Difficulties
“MAISHUL! What the hell was that?! Is that how you talk when I’m not around? And what the hell was that last section?” Lothli furiously slapped the tortured scene back into the accursed project bubbling menacingly below.
“Well, Scarlet’s kinda messy, so I tried to cover it up,” Maishul pouted. “Also, I was just trying to liven up the scene a bit! Kyle’s so BORING. He speaks in RIDDLES and they make my brain HURT.”
“That’s because you don’t have a single brain cell in that head of yours,” Lothli huffed. “Don’t make such sweeping changes to people’s stories!”
“Well… dear sis, could I trouble you for a favor, since I’m so head empty ‘n all?” Maishul smiled her widest, most brilliant smile.
“What.” The other twin glared back, unimpressed.
“Well, if you don’t want the two of us to get banned, can you help me separate these stories back out? Please?” With a fluttering of her eyelashes and a winsome wink, this would undoubtedly win her sister to her side—
“Deal with it yourself. I’m going to hand out apologies.” Lothli had no sympathy for her twin’s plight.
“Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!” Maishul cried. For now, she was burdened with her least favorite task; actual work.
And thus, this tale comes to a close. Nevertheless, its name will ring true throughout the land as the legendary fable known only as “In the Shadow of Machines, Scarlet, and the In Between Geas and the Beginning of the Demon Murder History: Dissonance, also How Did We Get Here?”
Thank you very much for your time. And apologies for my sister.
Lothli, signing off.
Credits: Maishul, Lothli, FTF!Olivia, and the Deus Ex Machina, from u/Lothli’s FTF Serial, Minerva and the plague, from u/PolarisStorm’s Art, Demoness Virtua, Sparky, and Dread Lord Ardus from u/mattswritingaccount’s Iklemli, Lena, and Veska from u/MeganBessel’s Pride and Sloth from u/Helicopterdrifter’s Clear and Alex from u/Carrieka23’s Talix, Sanguia, and Scarlet from u/Lothli’s Olivia, Barlow, and the Beast from u/Not_theScrumPolice’s Wan, Bea, and Ophelia from u/ZachtheLitchKing’s Ben, Theodore, Cornell, and Kyle from u/FyeNite’s The Entirety of the United States Arsenal of Nuclear Weaponry from the United States.
Special thanks to u/OldBayJ, which this fantastic feature would be impossible without.

Welcome to the monthly flashlight Buy, Sell, Trade thread! The BST has been a flashlight tradition since 2015!!
How can you participate? Some rules:

1. Prove possession by including at least one photo of every item you are trading. One photo must consist of a timestamp: a piece of paper placed under your sale item(s) with your Reddit username and the posting date (no more than 2 weeks old) handwritten.
2. Top-level comments must be WTS or WTB comments. Anything else will be removed.
3. Begin your top-level comment with [WTB], [WTS], or [WTT]. [WTB] = Want to Buy [WTS] = Want to Sell [WTT] = Want to Trade
4. A price is required.
5. Please take necessary precautions; trading over the internet is risky. Moderators hold no control over deals, good or bad.
6. Reposting unsold items from previous BSTs is fine: feel free to paste your old comment into this thread. Do not delete and repost your items from this BST within the same month. It's thread spam and unfair to the most recent sellers. You had your time at the top of the sort order, now let them have theirs.

When lowering prices or announcing sold items, please edit the top-level comment. Cross out the old price and add the new price; e.g. $75 $70. ~~75~~
You can view (and maybe trade) items from other BST threads. One other option is flashlight_swap but it is still being set up. The very active sub edcexchange is a thriving sales community and covers flashlights, too.
Thank you and good luck!

RemindePSA: Buy the Seller

If an interaction seems sketchy to you, run away! flashlight users have been scammed via the BST! Some tips:

• TIMESTAMPS. If the person you're dealing with isn't quick to provide timestamps on the images, or a photo of the flashlight in a shoe or whatever, don't deal with them.
• Reverse image searching is a great way to catch scammers.
• Excuses for not sending photos are a red flag.
• Using a platform other than Reddit private messages for communication is a red flag.
• Don't use Reddit chats. Chats can be deleted. Use messages, which can't be deleted.
• Giving you a hard time about any hesitation you show is a red flag.
• Check post history. Brand new accounts or accounts with strange post histories might not be trustworthy.
• It's good practice to make a comment on this post before sending a PM; scammers often won't comment publicly (and banned users can't comment here.).
• A good final check is to run the username through this site: https://www.universalscammerlist.com/

If you're dealing with someone who might be sketchy, take screenshots of your interactions and report them to the mods! We care about this thread's integrity and will ban those who threaten it.

Do not let a scammer be more diligent than you!

More Tips:

• You can use PayPal to buy and print shipping labels at lower commercial rates, similar to Stamps.com and others, but no subscription is required. (Even if the label has nothing to do with PayPal.) You just need this link: https://www.paypal.com/us/cgi-bin/webscr?cmd=_ship-now
• Items listed with shipping included tends to sell more quickly.
• If you don't know the shipping cost or don't ship often, USPS Priority Flat Rate is likely your best bet. Usually ~$8 will buy adequate packing for a light or two, but larger sizes are available for ~$14. Weight is not a factor (which means you can ship 1 light or 10 lights at the same cost) when you use the official Flat Rate packing, and the packing is free. Here's the best part: through the USPS website, you can obtain Flat Rate packing, with free delivery! Shipping time is usually 2-3 days.