How many homicides in toledo 2021
JoshBattleRoyale2021
2021.04.19 17:48 basskev JoshBattleRoyale2021
On the 24th of April, 2021, a battle may commence at 40.8223286, -96.7982002 in the state of Nebraska, USA. It is unknown how many participants will be partaking in the event. Josh Swain is the only identified invitee of the event, although he is not expected to attend.
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2023.03.20 23:10 Erutious The Honeyed Lies of Jameison March
When Jamison March, owner of March Mortuaries, put a sign out in front of his business saying that he would be selling honey, people thought it must be a joke.
What kind of mortician would sell honey? Would he sell it next to the caskets in his showroom? Would he offer it graveside at the cemetery? No one knew, but there was much speculation about that little sign.
Those who asked Jamison were in for quite a treat. Jamison told them that he would be selling his honey right here at the mortuary and even gave them a sample so they might tell their friends. What they sampled was supposedly the best honey any of them had ever eaten. They went on and on about the texture and the taste and the strange, exotic flavors within the honey. They said how they couldn't wait for Jamison to sell his honey, and they would be buying as much as they could on the opening day.
Others began to question where he was keeping his bees? They saw no beehives on his property, a two-bedroom apartment above the mortuary. They saw no hives on the mortuary property at all, in fact. They saw no hives in the cemetery or near the crematorium, but still, the honey came.
On the third of March, the first jar of that miraculous concoction appeared in the front room of Jamison's Mortuary. The mortuary was crowded for the next several days, and by Friday, not a jar was left to be purchased. Again, people praised the texture in the taste, as well as the myriad flavors that one would find within that jar. One of the buyers, Burt Lancaster, owned a large honey operation of his own. It is said that when he tasted Jamison honey, he proclaimed that no bee in his field had ever produced anything so sweet. Some would tell you that he burned his beehives that very afternoon, but that's a little more than town gossip.
For that summer back in 1986, no one could get enough of Jamison's honey.
They say Hellen Price used that honey to defeat her arrival, Linda Moore, in that summer's Fourth of July dessert bake-off.
They say Bert Cavill put that honey in his mead and could not make enough of it to satiate the local drunks.
They say Mary Sanders was taken to the hospital over at Oakley when she ate ten jars in a day and was reaching for an eleventh when her stomach ruptured.
But, again, that's all town gossip.
What is fact was the discovery made by Randall Smith, a local tabloid writer, in the fall of eighty-six.
Randall had a reputation for being less of a journalist and more of a mudslinger. If there was a nasty rumor started, Randall could usually be traced back to it. He had grown pretty tired of hearing about Jamison and his amazing honey. Randall was of the opinion that if something was too good to be true, then it likely was. He thought Jamison's honey must have some sort of secret ingredient that got people addicted to it. Maybe it was even a cover for some kind of dope operation that Jamison was running out of the mortuary or the cemetery. Whatever the case, Randall could smell the story, and it would be sweeter than any nectar the old mortician could produce.
So one night, as the moon hung full over Pleasant Rest Cemetery, Randall and his friends, Rooster Mallory and Charles Drainer, took a trip out to the cemetery to have a look around. Someone had reported earlier that week that they had seen some larger-than-normal bees around the cemetery grounds and speculated that these may be the source of Jamison's honey. It was the only lead that Randall had and seemed as good a lead as any. So after a couple of drinks at the Legion hall, the three men piled into Rooster's old Chevy and headed down to do some late-night snooping.
Randall still tells anyone who will listen how the graveyard was as silent as its namesake. The gate was locked, sporting a brand new Academy Security Lock, one of the big, thick gold ones that graced the sheds and fences of discerning security buffs in town. So, the three men had to find a different way in. This was strange since the cemetery had never been locked before. Jamison had always let people come and go as they please, but just recently, the old man has gotten a little cagey about many things. For one, the cemetery was now locked after nightfall. For another, no one was allowed in the basement of the mortuary, not even the man who came to deliver the bodies from the families. For third, no one but his two sons were allowed to work in the mortuary anymore, and both of them were under pain of death should they reveal the secret of Jamison's honey.
The three men had walked around the cemetery fence before they found a spot where the last windstorm had knocked down a thick old pine. It lay on the sharp points around the top, creating a rude bridge over the wall. None of them being particularly spry, they had them all carefully shimmied up the fallen tree and then dropped down into the cemetery, careful not to get stuck on the spikes. They all felt a chill as they stood in the quiet boneyard, and Randall claims that Rooster looked ready to brave the spikes if it meant being out of there.
The wind rattled the skeletal trees on the grounds, and the little flags that had been stuck on some of the graves for Labor Day snapped mischievously and startled them more than once. They had brought flashlights, but the big old traitors' moon that looked down on them was more than enough to keep them from tripping into an open grave or smashing their shins on an ill-placed tombstone. The quiet cemetery was enough to sober even the bravest of them, and it was probably why they heard the shovels before they saw the men.
Crouching behind a particularly large family headstone, Randal saw two men digging in a fresh grave. They were exhuming a body by the light of that pregnant moon, and Randall knew whose it was to boot. He had been to the widow Hadley's funeral that day, and it appeared that whoever these men were, they were taking her from her freshly dug plot. As they watched, the corpse flopped to the surface unceremoniously, followed by March's sons, Hannibal and Gavin. Hannibal hefted the body, leaving his younger brother to fill in the hole as he took it deeper into the cemetery. Gavin went to his work and bent as he was; he didn't notice the three men as they snuck around him and followed his older brother. Hannibal had been a football player, a linebacker for the local high school team in his day. He toted the frail old woman as easily as someone might a sack of grain. As they followed him, the three men weren't sure what they expected to find, but Randall was certain it would be something that would add a macabre twinge to the story he was working on.
They followed Hannibal as he came to a newly built mausoleum, the name across the door reading March. He unlocked the door and unceremoniously tossed the old woman into the crypt. The men hunkered low behind a pair of tombstones, but they needn't have bothered. Hannibal was a big boy, but his night eyes left something to be desired. He no more saw them than he did the place marker that he nearly tripped over on the way back to his brother, and as he stomped off into the cemetery, the three men approached the crypt.
The mortuary was a nice new one. Sunk into the ground a little to protect any caskets placed down there, it would have looked more at home in New Orleans than this Georgia backwater town. To the knowledge of anyone in town, the Marches did not have a family crypt until very recently. The only March buried there would be Jamison's wife since his mother and father were buried up in Macon at their own family plot. Hannibal may not have been the smartest March in town, but it appeared he was smart enough to lock up behind himself. Another one of those big, thick locks that had been found on the front gate greeted them, and the three men were forced to prowl around the mausoleum to see what they could find.
It was Charles who found the little vent in the mausoleum, but it was Randall who saw the horrors that lay inside.
Randall and Rooster had been looking for a window or perhaps another entrance when Charles had come hoofing it back to them to say that he had found a little vent that opened into the crypt. Randall asked him to show them where it was, and the three men found a little opening big enough for a large child to fit inside. Charles and Rooster were pulp wooders and much too big to squeeze into holes. However, Randall had made a career of squeezing into places he was not wanted.
Opting to stick his head in to get a better look, Randall had his friend hold his legs while he shimmied into the vent. Charles and Rooster slid him in as far as they could, and they said his flashlight could be seen through the slats at the top of the mausoleum.
When Randall started screaming and yelling for them to pull him out, it sounded like the devil himself had gotten a hold of him.
When they pulled him out, they said he was white as a sheet and said they had to tell the sheriff immediately.
Whether the brothers were gone when they made their escape or not, they missed them entirely as they beat a retreat back to town.
The sheriff took some convincing to get him out of bed, but when Randall told him what he had seen down in the crypt, he came with three other men and the biggest set of bolt cutters they could find at the station.
Jamison's sons were leaving when the sheriff and his boys pulled up, so they didn't end up needing the bolt cutters after all.
When he laid it out to the two young men that they could either cooperate or sit in the same prison cell that their father was about to occupy, they decided it might be in their best interest to show him what they'd been doing.
When the sheriff asked the boys if they would need suits, the two shook their heads. "The bees are mostly docile," Hannibal told them, and, sure enough, when they cracked the door, not a one came charging out. They descended into the ground, and by the light of the sheriff's flashlight, they saw the horrors below. The bees swarmed the small pile of corpses, taking whatever they used to make the honey back to the hives. The hives covered the walls of the crypt, making a sticky webwork of combs. The corpses down below were fresh, most of them having died very recently, and the bees were taking to them with gusto. The brothers said they came down once or twice a week to harvest the honey and that the vulture bees were taking to the warm Georgia summers quite nicely.
When the sheriff interrogated them, both said this had been their father's idea. He had read about the vulture bees and thought they sounded like an interesting idea. Then when their mother died, he did a little experiment. He had put her in the mortuary basement and procured some vulture bees of his own. The boys had been horrified when he showed them what he'd been up to, but even they had to admit, the honey had been the sweetest they had ever eaten. Something about the readily available nature of the local pollen, mixed with the bee's instinct to collect whatever they got from the corpses, had made for a potent and delicious treat.
"She was the catalyst for all this," Hannibal had said, "those first few jars he handed out to the people for tasting were honey made from mom's body."
He began to cry then, but the sheriff had all the evidence that he needed to proceed.
He arrested Jamison March that very night, but there seemed to be some confusion on what to charge him with. Couldn't really get him for murder because he hadn't killed anybody. Couldn't really get him for fraud because he buried those bodies just like he said he would. In the end, they got him on simple corpse desecration and misdemeanor fraud for not telling the families what he intended to do with the bodies.
He got less than five years in prison, and I hear that the warden let him keep the beehives in the prison garden.
Seems like his talents didn't go to waste even behind bars.
He left town when his time was served, he and his boys. The funeral home has been empty ever since. The police found the beginnings of his beekeeping in the basement. That, and a secondary hive with a swarm of angry vulture bees. Jamieson tried to sell the mortuary, but nobody seemed to want the place with that sort of reputation. It collapsed under a late February snow back in two thousand twelve, and they destroyed the mortuary they found all those bodies in about a year after Jamison went to prison.
And that's the sorted tale of Jamison March, and his bees.
I have no idea what they did with those bees after they turned them out of the March Mausoleum, they likely just turned them loose into an environment that was alien to them.
So, if you should be traveling through the Georgia back roads and see some larger-than-average bees or taste sweeter than average honey, be very suspicious about its origins.
submitted by Erutious to Creepystories [link] [comments]
When Jamison March, owner of March Mortuaries, put a sign out in front of his business saying that he would be selling honey, people thought it must be a joke.
What kind of mortician would sell honey? Would he sell it next to the caskets in his showroom? Would he offer it graveside at the cemetery? No one knew, but there was much speculation about that little sign.
Those who asked Jamison were in for quite a treat. Jamison told them that he would be selling his honey right here at the mortuary and even gave them a sample so they might tell their friends. What they sampled was supposedly the best honey any of them had ever eaten. They went on and on about the texture and the taste and the strange, exotic flavors within the honey. They said how they couldn't wait for Jamison to sell his honey, and they would be buying as much as they could on the opening day.
Others began to question where he was keeping his bees? They saw no beehives on his property, a two-bedroom apartment above the mortuary. They saw no hives on the mortuary property at all, in fact. They saw no hives in the cemetery or near the crematorium, but still, the honey came.
On the third of March, the first jar of that miraculous concoction appeared in the front room of Jamison's Mortuary. The mortuary was crowded for the next several days, and by Friday, not a jar was left to be purchased. Again, people praised the texture in the taste, as well as the myriad flavors that one would find within that jar. One of the buyers, Burt Lancaster, owned a large honey operation of his own. It is said that when he tasted Jamison honey, he proclaimed that no bee in his field had ever produced anything so sweet. Some would tell you that he burned his beehives that very afternoon, but that's a little more than town gossip.
For that summer back in 1986, no one could get enough of Jamison's honey.
They say Hellen Price used that honey to defeat her arrival, Linda Moore, in that summer's Fourth of July dessert bake-off.
They say Bert Cavill put that honey in his mead and could not make enough of it to satiate the local drunks.
They say Mary Sanders was taken to the hospital over at Oakley when she ate ten jars in a day and was reaching for an eleventh when her stomach ruptured.
But, again, that's all town gossip.
What is fact was the discovery made by Randall Smith, a local tabloid writer, in the fall of eighty-six.
Randall had a reputation for being less of a journalist and more of a mudslinger. If there was a nasty rumor started, Randall could usually be traced back to it. He had grown pretty tired of hearing about Jamison and his amazing honey. Randall was of the opinion that if something was too good to be true, then it likely was. He thought Jamison's honey must have some sort of secret ingredient that got people addicted to it. Maybe it was even a cover for some kind of dope operation that Jamison was running out of the mortuary or the cemetery. Whatever the case, Randall could smell the story, and it would be sweeter than any nectar the old mortician could produce.
So one night, as the moon hung full over Pleasant Rest Cemetery, Randall and his friends, Rooster Mallory and Charles Drainer, took a trip out to the cemetery to have a look around. Someone had reported earlier that week that they had seen some larger-than-normal bees around the cemetery grounds and speculated that these may be the source of Jamison's honey. It was the only lead that Randall had and seemed as good a lead as any. So after a couple of drinks at the Legion hall, the three men piled into Rooster's old Chevy and headed down to do some late-night snooping.
Randall still tells anyone who will listen how the graveyard was as silent as its namesake. The gate was locked, sporting a brand new Academy Security Lock, one of the big, thick gold ones that graced the sheds and fences of discerning security buffs in town. So, the three men had to find a different way in. This was strange since the cemetery had never been locked before. Jamison had always let people come and go as they please, but just recently, the old man has gotten a little cagey about many things. For one, the cemetery was now locked after nightfall. For another, no one was allowed in the basement of the mortuary, not even the man who came to deliver the bodies from the families. For third, no one but his two sons were allowed to work in the mortuary anymore, and both of them were under pain of death should they reveal the secret of Jamison's honey.
The three men had walked around the cemetery fence before they found a spot where the last windstorm had knocked down a thick old pine. It lay on the sharp points around the top, creating a rude bridge over the wall. None of them being particularly spry, they had them all carefully shimmied up the fallen tree and then dropped down into the cemetery, careful not to get stuck on the spikes. They all felt a chill as they stood in the quiet boneyard, and Randall claims that Rooster looked ready to brave the spikes if it meant being out of there.
The wind rattled the skeletal trees on the grounds, and the little flags that had been stuck on some of the graves for Labor Day snapped mischievously and startled them more than once. They had brought flashlights, but the big old traitors' moon that looked down on them was more than enough to keep them from tripping into an open grave or smashing their shins on an ill-placed tombstone. The quiet cemetery was enough to sober even the bravest of them, and it was probably why they heard the shovels before they saw the men.
Crouching behind a particularly large family headstone, Randal saw two men digging in a fresh grave. They were exhuming a body by the light of that pregnant moon, and Randall knew whose it was to boot. He had been to the widow Hadley's funeral that day, and it appeared that whoever these men were, they were taking her from her freshly dug plot. As they watched, the corpse flopped to the surface unceremoniously, followed by March's sons, Hannibal and Gavin. Hannibal hefted the body, leaving his younger brother to fill in the hole as he took it deeper into the cemetery. Gavin went to his work and bent as he was; he didn't notice the three men as they snuck around him and followed his older brother. Hannibal had been a football player, a linebacker for the local high school team in his day. He toted the frail old woman as easily as someone might a sack of grain. As they followed him, the three men weren't sure what they expected to find, but Randall was certain it would be something that would add a macabre twinge to the story he was working on.
They followed Hannibal as he came to a newly built mausoleum, the name across the door reading March. He unlocked the door and unceremoniously tossed the old woman into the crypt. The men hunkered low behind a pair of tombstones, but they needn't have bothered. Hannibal was a big boy, but his night eyes left something to be desired. He no more saw them than he did the place marker that he nearly tripped over on the way back to his brother, and as he stomped off into the cemetery, the three men approached the crypt.
The mortuary was a nice new one. Sunk into the ground a little to protect any caskets placed down there, it would have looked more at home in New Orleans than this Georgia backwater town. To the knowledge of anyone in town, the Marches did not have a family crypt until very recently. The only March buried there would be Jamison's wife since his mother and father were buried up in Macon at their own family plot. Hannibal may not have been the smartest March in town, but it appeared he was smart enough to lock up behind himself. Another one of those big, thick locks that had been found on the front gate greeted them, and the three men were forced to prowl around the mausoleum to see what they could find.
It was Charles who found the little vent in the mausoleum, but it was Randall who saw the horrors that lay inside.
Randall and Rooster had been looking for a window or perhaps another entrance when Charles had come hoofing it back to them to say that he had found a little vent that opened into the crypt. Randall asked him to show them where it was, and the three men found a little opening big enough for a large child to fit inside. Charles and Rooster were pulp wooders and much too big to squeeze into holes. However, Randall had made a career of squeezing into places he was not wanted.
Opting to stick his head in to get a better look, Randall had his friend hold his legs while he shimmied into the vent. Charles and Rooster slid him in as far as they could, and they said his flashlight could be seen through the slats at the top of the mausoleum.
When Randall started screaming and yelling for them to pull him out, it sounded like the devil himself had gotten a hold of him.
When they pulled him out, they said he was white as a sheet and said they had to tell the sheriff immediately.
Whether the brothers were gone when they made their escape or not, they missed them entirely as they beat a retreat back to town.
The sheriff took some convincing to get him out of bed, but when Randall told him what he had seen down in the crypt, he came with three other men and the biggest set of bolt cutters they could find at the station.
Jamison's sons were leaving when the sheriff and his boys pulled up, so they didn't end up needing the bolt cutters after all.
When he laid it out to the two young men that they could either cooperate or sit in the same prison cell that their father was about to occupy, they decided it might be in their best interest to show him what they'd been doing.
When the sheriff asked the boys if they would need suits, the two shook their heads. "The bees are mostly docile," Hannibal told them, and, sure enough, when they cracked the door, not a one came charging out. They descended into the ground, and by the light of the sheriff's flashlight, they saw the horrors below. The bees swarmed the small pile of corpses, taking whatever they used to make the honey back to the hives. The hives covered the walls of the crypt, making a sticky webwork of combs. The corpses down below were fresh, most of them having died very recently, and the bees were taking to them with gusto. The brothers said they came down once or twice a week to harvest the honey and that the vulture bees were taking to the warm Georgia summers quite nicely.
When the sheriff interrogated them, both said this had been their father's idea. He had read about the vulture bees and thought they sounded like an interesting idea. Then when their mother died, he did a little experiment. He had put her in the mortuary basement and procured some vulture bees of his own. The boys had been horrified when he showed them what he'd been up to, but even they had to admit, the honey had been the sweetest they had ever eaten. Something about the readily available nature of the local pollen, mixed with the bee's instinct to collect whatever they got from the corpses, had made for a potent and delicious treat.
"She was the catalyst for all this," Hannibal had said, "those first few jars he handed out to the people for tasting were honey made from mom's body."
He began to cry then, but the sheriff had all the evidence that he needed to proceed.
He arrested Jamison March that very night, but there seemed to be some confusion on what to charge him with. Couldn't really get him for murder because he hadn't killed anybody. Couldn't really get him for fraud because he buried those bodies just like he said he would. In the end, they got him on simple corpse desecration and misdemeanor fraud for not telling the families what he intended to do with the bodies.
He got less than five years in prison, and I hear that the warden let him keep the beehives in the prison garden.
Seems like his talents didn't go to waste even behind bars.
He left town when his time was served, he and his boys. The funeral home has been empty ever since. The police found the beginnings of his beekeeping in the basement. That, and a secondary hive with a swarm of angry vulture bees. Jamieson tried to sell the mortuary, but nobody seemed to want the place with that sort of reputation. It collapsed under a late February snow back in two thousand twelve, and they destroyed the mortuary they found all those bodies in about a year after Jamison went to prison.
And that's the sorted tale of Jamison March, and his bees.
I have no idea what they did with those bees after they turned them out of the March Mausoleum, they likely just turned them loose into an environment that was alien to them.
So, if you should be traveling through the Georgia back roads and see some larger-than-average bees or taste sweeter than average honey, be very suspicious about its origins.
2023.03.20 23:09 Notyouraveragebean7 Incoming CBS exchange student, seeking guidance in housing application ranking and more!
Hejså! I am moving back to Copenhagen for exchange starting on August but I have many doubts regarding student housing, I know it's a complicated subject in Copenhagen, I am mexican and hopefully can still conversationally speak danish!
So my first question is regarding the available residencies from the CBS housing forum, we do not get much info on the residencies and we have to rank them, if anyone has any guidance on the following residencies or can point out any pros/cons i'd very much appreciate it.
-Kathrine Kollegiet
-Kongens Tværvej
-Porcelaenshaven
-Svanevej
-TIETGEN KOLLEGIET
Secondly, how likely is it to get into any of this residencies through the housing forum application? Should I start planning an alternative, and if so, what are other good options? Is there something I should to increase my chances on being accepted?
Third, since friends are going on exchange to nearby at the same time, we plan on briefly visiting each other, CBS housing forum says no overnight visitors are allowed in the residencies, but from the residencies own websites, no such policy is mentioned. Is this an actual rule? Is it commonly enforced?
Finally, is there anything else important I should know before I arrive? I have lived in Denmark before but Copenhagen is mostly new to me, so any extra information is welcome!
To everyone that read this and answers, tusind tusind tak:)))
submitted by Notyouraveragebean7 to copenhagen [link] [comments]
So my first question is regarding the available residencies from the CBS housing forum, we do not get much info on the residencies and we have to rank them, if anyone has any guidance on the following residencies or can point out any pros/cons i'd very much appreciate it.
-Kathrine Kollegiet
-Kongens Tværvej
-Porcelaenshaven
-Svanevej
-TIETGEN KOLLEGIET
Secondly, how likely is it to get into any of this residencies through the housing forum application? Should I start planning an alternative, and if so, what are other good options? Is there something I should to increase my chances on being accepted?
Third, since friends are going on exchange to nearby at the same time, we plan on briefly visiting each other, CBS housing forum says no overnight visitors are allowed in the residencies, but from the residencies own websites, no such policy is mentioned. Is this an actual rule? Is it commonly enforced?
Finally, is there anything else important I should know before I arrive? I have lived in Denmark before but Copenhagen is mostly new to me, so any extra information is welcome!
To everyone that read this and answers, tusind tusind tak:)))
2023.03.20 23:09 Xalahar576 How would you improve Kronika as a villain?
Many consider her as the worst villain in the franchise,so how would you make her a better villain?
submitted by Xalahar576 to MortalKombat [link] [comments]
2023.03.20 23:09 Erutious The Honeyed Words of Jameison March
When Jamison March, owner of March Mortuaries, put a sign out in front of his business saying that he would be selling honey, people thought it must be a joke.
What kind of mortician would sell honey? Would he sell it next to the caskets in his showroom? Would he offer it graveside at the cemetery? No one knew, but there was much speculation about that little sign.
Those who asked Jamison were in for quite a treat. Jamison told them that he would be selling his honey right here at the mortuary and even gave them a sample so they might tell their friends. What they sampled was supposedly the best honey any of them had ever eaten. They went on and on about the texture and the taste and the strange, exotic flavors within the honey. They said how they couldn't wait for Jamison to sell his honey, and they would be buying as much as they could on the opening day.
Others began to question where he was keeping his bees? They saw no beehives on his property, a two-bedroom apartment above the mortuary. They saw no hives on the mortuary property at all, in fact. They saw no hives in the cemetery or near the crematorium, but still, the honey came.
On the third of March, the first jar of that miraculous concoction appeared in the front room of Jamison's Mortuary. The mortuary was crowded for the next several days, and by Friday, not a jar was left to be purchased. Again, people praised the texture in the taste, as well as the myriad flavors that one would find within that jar. One of the buyers, Burt Lancaster, owned a large honey operation of his own. It is said that when he tasted Jamison honey, he proclaimed that no bee in his field had ever produced anything so sweet. Some would tell you that he burned his beehives that very afternoon, but that's a little more than town gossip.
For that summer back in 1986, no one could get enough of Jamison's honey.
They say Hellen Price used that honey to defeat her arrival, Linda Moore, in that summer's Fourth of July dessert bake-off.
They say Bert Cavill put that honey in his mead and could not make enough of it to satiate the local drunks.
They say Mary Sanders was taken to the hospital over at Oakley when she ate ten jars in a day and was reaching for an eleventh when her stomach ruptured.
But, again, that's all town gossip.
What is fact was the discovery made by Randall Smith, a local tabloid writer, in the fall of eighty-six.
Randall had a reputation for being less of a journalist and more of a mudslinger. If there was a nasty rumor started, Randall could usually be traced back to it. He had grown pretty tired of hearing about Jamison and his amazing honey. Randall was of the opinion that if something was too good to be true, then it likely was. He thought Jamison's honey must have some sort of secret ingredient that got people addicted to it. Maybe it was even a cover for some kind of dope operation that Jamison was running out of the mortuary or the cemetery. Whatever the case, Randall could smell the story, and it would be sweeter than any nectar the old mortician could produce.
So one night, as the moon hung full over Pleasant Rest Cemetery, Randall and his friends, Rooster Mallory and Charles Drainer, took a trip out to the cemetery to have a look around. Someone had reported earlier that week that they had seen some larger-than-normal bees around the cemetery grounds and speculated that these may be the source of Jamison's honey. It was the only lead that Randall had and seemed as good a lead as any. So after a couple of drinks at the Legion hall, the three men piled into Rooster's old Chevy and headed down to do some late-night snooping.
Randall still tells anyone who will listen how the graveyard was as silent as its namesake. The gate was locked, sporting a brand new Academy Security Lock, one of the big, thick gold ones that graced the sheds and fences of discerning security buffs in town. So, the three men had to find a different way in. This was strange since the cemetery had never been locked before. Jamison had always let people come and go as they please, but just recently, the old man has gotten a little cagey about many things. For one, the cemetery was now locked after nightfall. For another, no one was allowed in the basement of the mortuary, not even the man who came to deliver the bodies from the families. For third, no one but his two sons were allowed to work in the mortuary anymore, and both of them were under pain of death should they reveal the secret of Jamison's honey.
The three men had walked around the cemetery fence before they found a spot where the last windstorm had knocked down a thick old pine. It lay on the sharp points around the top, creating a rude bridge over the wall. None of them being particularly spry, they had them all carefully shimmied up the fallen tree and then dropped down into the cemetery, careful not to get stuck on the spikes. They all felt a chill as they stood in the quiet boneyard, and Randall claims that Rooster looked ready to brave the spikes if it meant being out of there.
The wind rattled the skeletal trees on the grounds, and the little flags that had been stuck on some of the graves for Labor Day snapped mischievously and startled them more than once. They had brought flashlights, but the big old traitors' moon that looked down on them was more than enough to keep them from tripping into an open grave or smashing their shins on an ill-placed tombstone. The quiet cemetery was enough to sober even the bravest of them, and it was probably why they heard the shovels before they saw the men.
Crouching behind a particularly large family headstone, Randal saw two men digging in a fresh grave. They were exhuming a body by the light of that pregnant moon, and Randall knew whose it was to boot. He had been to the widow Hadley's funeral that day, and it appeared that whoever these men were, they were taking her from her freshly dug plot. As they watched, the corpse flopped to the surface unceremoniously, followed by March's sons, Hannibal and Gavin. Hannibal hefted the body, leaving his younger brother to fill in the hole as he took it deeper into the cemetery. Gavin went to his work and bent as he was; he didn't notice the three men as they snuck around him and followed his older brother. Hannibal had been a football player, a linebacker for the local high school team in his day. He toted the frail old woman as easily as someone might a sack of grain. As they followed him, the three men weren't sure what they expected to find, but Randall was certain it would be something that would add a macabre twinge to the story he was working on.
They followed Hannibal as he came to a newly built mausoleum, the name across the door reading March. He unlocked the door and unceremoniously tossed the old woman into the crypt. The men hunkered low behind a pair of tombstones, but they needn't have bothered. Hannibal was a big boy, but his night eyes left something to be desired. He no more saw them than he did the place marker that he nearly tripped over on the way back to his brother, and as he stomped off into the cemetery, the three men approached the crypt.
The mortuary was a nice new one. Sunk into the ground a little to protect any caskets placed down there, it would have looked more at home in New Orleans than this Georgia backwater town. To the knowledge of anyone in town, the Marches did not have a family crypt until very recently. The only March buried there would be Jamison's wife since his mother and father were buried up in Macon at their own family plot. Hannibal may not have been the smartest March in town, but it appeared he was smart enough to lock up behind himself. Another one of those big, thick locks that had been found on the front gate greeted them, and the three men were forced to prowl around the mausoleum to see what they could find.
It was Charles who found the little vent in the mausoleum, but it was Randall who saw the horrors that lay inside.
Randall and Rooster had been looking for a window or perhaps another entrance when Charles had come hoofing it back to them to say that he had found a little vent that opened into the crypt. Randall asked him to show them where it was, and the three men found a little opening big enough for a large child to fit inside. Charles and Rooster were pulp wooders and much too big to squeeze into holes. However, Randall had made a career of squeezing into places he was not wanted.
Opting to stick his head in to get a better look, Randall had his friend hold his legs while he shimmied into the vent. Charles and Rooster slid him in as far as they could, and they said his flashlight could be seen through the slats at the top of the mausoleum.
When Randall started screaming and yelling for them to pull him out, it sounded like the devil himself had gotten a hold of him.
When they pulled him out, they said he was white as a sheet and said they had to tell the sheriff immediately.
Whether the brothers were gone when they made their escape or not, they missed them entirely as they beat a retreat back to town.
The sheriff took some convincing to get him out of bed, but when Randall told him what he had seen down in the crypt, he came with three other men and the biggest set of bolt cutters they could find at the station.
Jamison's sons were leaving when the sheriff and his boys pulled up, so they didn't end up needing the bolt cutters after all.
When he laid it out to the two young men that they could either cooperate or sit in the same prison cell that their father was about to occupy, they decided it might be in their best interest to show him what they'd been doing.
When the sheriff asked the boys if they would need suits, the two shook their heads. "The bees are mostly docile," Hannibal told them, and, sure enough, when they cracked the door, not a one came charging out. They descended into the ground, and by the light of the sheriff's flashlight, they saw the horrors below. The bees swarmed the small pile of corpses, taking whatever they used to make the honey back to the hives. The hives covered the walls of the crypt, making a sticky webwork of combs. The corpses down below were fresh, most of them having died very recently, and the bees were taking to them with gusto. The brothers said they came down once or twice a week to harvest the honey and that the vulture bees were taking to the warm Georgia summers quite nicely.
When the sheriff interrogated them, both said this had been their father's idea. He had read about the vulture bees and thought they sounded like an interesting idea. Then when their mother died, he did a little experiment. He had put her in the mortuary basement and procured some vulture bees of his own. The boys had been horrified when he showed them what he'd been up to, but even they had to admit, the honey had been the sweetest they had ever eaten. Something about the readily available nature of the local pollen, mixed with the bee's instinct to collect whatever they got from the corpses, had made for a potent and delicious treat.
"She was the catalyst for all this," Hannibal had said, "those first few jars he handed out to the people for tasting were honey made from mom's body."
He began to cry then, but the sheriff had all the evidence that he needed to proceed.
He arrested Jamison March that very night, but there seemed to be some confusion on what to charge him with. Couldn't really get him for murder because he hadn't killed anybody. Couldn't really get him for fraud because he buried those bodies just like he said he would. In the end, they got him on simple corpse desecration and misdemeanor fraud for not telling the families what he intended to do with the bodies.
He got less than five years in prison, and I hear that the warden let him keep the beehives in the prison garden.
Seems like his talents didn't go to waste even behind bars.
He left town when his time was served, he and his boys. The funeral home has been empty ever since. The police found the beginnings of his beekeeping in the basement. That, and a secondary hive with a swarm of angry vulture bees. Jamieson tried to sell the mortuary, but nobody seemed to want the place with that sort of reputation. It collapsed under a late February snow back in two thousand twelve, and they destroyed the mortuary they found all those bodies in about a year after Jamison went to prison.
And that's the sorted tale of Jamison March, and his bees.
I have no idea what they did with those bees after they turned them out of the March Mausoleum, they likely just turned them loose into an environment that was alien to them.
So, if you should be traveling through the Georgia back roads and see some larger-than-average bees or taste sweeter than average honey, be very suspicious about its origins.
submitted by Erutious to creepypasta [link] [comments]
When Jamison March, owner of March Mortuaries, put a sign out in front of his business saying that he would be selling honey, people thought it must be a joke.
What kind of mortician would sell honey? Would he sell it next to the caskets in his showroom? Would he offer it graveside at the cemetery? No one knew, but there was much speculation about that little sign.
Those who asked Jamison were in for quite a treat. Jamison told them that he would be selling his honey right here at the mortuary and even gave them a sample so they might tell their friends. What they sampled was supposedly the best honey any of them had ever eaten. They went on and on about the texture and the taste and the strange, exotic flavors within the honey. They said how they couldn't wait for Jamison to sell his honey, and they would be buying as much as they could on the opening day.
Others began to question where he was keeping his bees? They saw no beehives on his property, a two-bedroom apartment above the mortuary. They saw no hives on the mortuary property at all, in fact. They saw no hives in the cemetery or near the crematorium, but still, the honey came.
On the third of March, the first jar of that miraculous concoction appeared in the front room of Jamison's Mortuary. The mortuary was crowded for the next several days, and by Friday, not a jar was left to be purchased. Again, people praised the texture in the taste, as well as the myriad flavors that one would find within that jar. One of the buyers, Burt Lancaster, owned a large honey operation of his own. It is said that when he tasted Jamison honey, he proclaimed that no bee in his field had ever produced anything so sweet. Some would tell you that he burned his beehives that very afternoon, but that's a little more than town gossip.
For that summer back in 1986, no one could get enough of Jamison's honey.
They say Hellen Price used that honey to defeat her arrival, Linda Moore, in that summer's Fourth of July dessert bake-off.
They say Bert Cavill put that honey in his mead and could not make enough of it to satiate the local drunks.
They say Mary Sanders was taken to the hospital over at Oakley when she ate ten jars in a day and was reaching for an eleventh when her stomach ruptured.
But, again, that's all town gossip.
What is fact was the discovery made by Randall Smith, a local tabloid writer, in the fall of eighty-six.
Randall had a reputation for being less of a journalist and more of a mudslinger. If there was a nasty rumor started, Randall could usually be traced back to it. He had grown pretty tired of hearing about Jamison and his amazing honey. Randall was of the opinion that if something was too good to be true, then it likely was. He thought Jamison's honey must have some sort of secret ingredient that got people addicted to it. Maybe it was even a cover for some kind of dope operation that Jamison was running out of the mortuary or the cemetery. Whatever the case, Randall could smell the story, and it would be sweeter than any nectar the old mortician could produce.
So one night, as the moon hung full over Pleasant Rest Cemetery, Randall and his friends, Rooster Mallory and Charles Drainer, took a trip out to the cemetery to have a look around. Someone had reported earlier that week that they had seen some larger-than-normal bees around the cemetery grounds and speculated that these may be the source of Jamison's honey. It was the only lead that Randall had and seemed as good a lead as any. So after a couple of drinks at the Legion hall, the three men piled into Rooster's old Chevy and headed down to do some late-night snooping.
Randall still tells anyone who will listen how the graveyard was as silent as its namesake. The gate was locked, sporting a brand new Academy Security Lock, one of the big, thick gold ones that graced the sheds and fences of discerning security buffs in town. So, the three men had to find a different way in. This was strange since the cemetery had never been locked before. Jamison had always let people come and go as they please, but just recently, the old man has gotten a little cagey about many things. For one, the cemetery was now locked after nightfall. For another, no one was allowed in the basement of the mortuary, not even the man who came to deliver the bodies from the families. For third, no one but his two sons were allowed to work in the mortuary anymore, and both of them were under pain of death should they reveal the secret of Jamison's honey.
The three men had walked around the cemetery fence before they found a spot where the last windstorm had knocked down a thick old pine. It lay on the sharp points around the top, creating a rude bridge over the wall. None of them being particularly spry, they had them all carefully shimmied up the fallen tree and then dropped down into the cemetery, careful not to get stuck on the spikes. They all felt a chill as they stood in the quiet boneyard, and Randall claims that Rooster looked ready to brave the spikes if it meant being out of there.
The wind rattled the skeletal trees on the grounds, and the little flags that had been stuck on some of the graves for Labor Day snapped mischievously and startled them more than once. They had brought flashlights, but the big old traitors' moon that looked down on them was more than enough to keep them from tripping into an open grave or smashing their shins on an ill-placed tombstone. The quiet cemetery was enough to sober even the bravest of them, and it was probably why they heard the shovels before they saw the men.
Crouching behind a particularly large family headstone, Randal saw two men digging in a fresh grave. They were exhuming a body by the light of that pregnant moon, and Randall knew whose it was to boot. He had been to the widow Hadley's funeral that day, and it appeared that whoever these men were, they were taking her from her freshly dug plot. As they watched, the corpse flopped to the surface unceremoniously, followed by March's sons, Hannibal and Gavin. Hannibal hefted the body, leaving his younger brother to fill in the hole as he took it deeper into the cemetery. Gavin went to his work and bent as he was; he didn't notice the three men as they snuck around him and followed his older brother. Hannibal had been a football player, a linebacker for the local high school team in his day. He toted the frail old woman as easily as someone might a sack of grain. As they followed him, the three men weren't sure what they expected to find, but Randall was certain it would be something that would add a macabre twinge to the story he was working on.
They followed Hannibal as he came to a newly built mausoleum, the name across the door reading March. He unlocked the door and unceremoniously tossed the old woman into the crypt. The men hunkered low behind a pair of tombstones, but they needn't have bothered. Hannibal was a big boy, but his night eyes left something to be desired. He no more saw them than he did the place marker that he nearly tripped over on the way back to his brother, and as he stomped off into the cemetery, the three men approached the crypt.
The mortuary was a nice new one. Sunk into the ground a little to protect any caskets placed down there, it would have looked more at home in New Orleans than this Georgia backwater town. To the knowledge of anyone in town, the Marches did not have a family crypt until very recently. The only March buried there would be Jamison's wife since his mother and father were buried up in Macon at their own family plot. Hannibal may not have been the smartest March in town, but it appeared he was smart enough to lock up behind himself. Another one of those big, thick locks that had been found on the front gate greeted them, and the three men were forced to prowl around the mausoleum to see what they could find.
It was Charles who found the little vent in the mausoleum, but it was Randall who saw the horrors that lay inside.
Randall and Rooster had been looking for a window or perhaps another entrance when Charles had come hoofing it back to them to say that he had found a little vent that opened into the crypt. Randall asked him to show them where it was, and the three men found a little opening big enough for a large child to fit inside. Charles and Rooster were pulp wooders and much too big to squeeze into holes. However, Randall had made a career of squeezing into places he was not wanted.
Opting to stick his head in to get a better look, Randall had his friend hold his legs while he shimmied into the vent. Charles and Rooster slid him in as far as they could, and they said his flashlight could be seen through the slats at the top of the mausoleum.
When Randall started screaming and yelling for them to pull him out, it sounded like the devil himself had gotten a hold of him.
When they pulled him out, they said he was white as a sheet and said they had to tell the sheriff immediately.
Whether the brothers were gone when they made their escape or not, they missed them entirely as they beat a retreat back to town.
The sheriff took some convincing to get him out of bed, but when Randall told him what he had seen down in the crypt, he came with three other men and the biggest set of bolt cutters they could find at the station.
Jamison's sons were leaving when the sheriff and his boys pulled up, so they didn't end up needing the bolt cutters after all.
When he laid it out to the two young men that they could either cooperate or sit in the same prison cell that their father was about to occupy, they decided it might be in their best interest to show him what they'd been doing.
When the sheriff asked the boys if they would need suits, the two shook their heads. "The bees are mostly docile," Hannibal told them, and, sure enough, when they cracked the door, not a one came charging out. They descended into the ground, and by the light of the sheriff's flashlight, they saw the horrors below. The bees swarmed the small pile of corpses, taking whatever they used to make the honey back to the hives. The hives covered the walls of the crypt, making a sticky webwork of combs. The corpses down below were fresh, most of them having died very recently, and the bees were taking to them with gusto. The brothers said they came down once or twice a week to harvest the honey and that the vulture bees were taking to the warm Georgia summers quite nicely.
When the sheriff interrogated them, both said this had been their father's idea. He had read about the vulture bees and thought they sounded like an interesting idea. Then when their mother died, he did a little experiment. He had put her in the mortuary basement and procured some vulture bees of his own. The boys had been horrified when he showed them what he'd been up to, but even they had to admit, the honey had been the sweetest they had ever eaten. Something about the readily available nature of the local pollen, mixed with the bee's instinct to collect whatever they got from the corpses, had made for a potent and delicious treat.
"She was the catalyst for all this," Hannibal had said, "those first few jars he handed out to the people for tasting were honey made from mom's body."
He began to cry then, but the sheriff had all the evidence that he needed to proceed.
He arrested Jamison March that very night, but there seemed to be some confusion on what to charge him with. Couldn't really get him for murder because he hadn't killed anybody. Couldn't really get him for fraud because he buried those bodies just like he said he would. In the end, they got him on simple corpse desecration and misdemeanor fraud for not telling the families what he intended to do with the bodies.
He got less than five years in prison, and I hear that the warden let him keep the beehives in the prison garden.
Seems like his talents didn't go to waste even behind bars.
He left town when his time was served, he and his boys. The funeral home has been empty ever since. The police found the beginnings of his beekeeping in the basement. That, and a secondary hive with a swarm of angry vulture bees. Jamieson tried to sell the mortuary, but nobody seemed to want the place with that sort of reputation. It collapsed under a late February snow back in two thousand twelve, and they destroyed the mortuary they found all those bodies in about a year after Jamison went to prison.
And that's the sorted tale of Jamison March, and his bees.
I have no idea what they did with those bees after they turned them out of the March Mausoleum, they likely just turned them loose into an environment that was alien to them.
So, if you should be traveling through the Georgia back roads and see some larger-than-average bees or taste sweeter than average honey, be very suspicious about its origins.
2023.03.20 23:09 Free_Piccolo4658 No confidence climbing anymore!
I’ve been climbing for 6 years, and over the past year I’ve found myself getting increasingly angry and emotional when I climb. This is happening when I boulder and top rope but is hitting me hardest with lead. I haven’t been doing lead for as long but I know that at the end of 2021 I was completely confident lead climbing a 6b and now I can’t even get half way up a 5b without getting scared. It’s not always fear, sometimes it’s like my mind just shuts down and says: “I’m not doing this”. Then I come down and just feel utterly distraught that I wouldn’t do the move. As a result I’m not climbing as much and I’ve definitely dropped a grade or two.
I’ve got a pretty stressful engineering job, and I know that climbing is hard for me because I’m usually very tired after work and have been doing hard af problem solving all day… So I’ve been very forgiving to myself and said: okay I’ll climb lower grades today, or this week I’m only going to go on the weekend.
But even on a lovely chill Sunday, climbing with friends I’m just not feeling it. Sometimes I feel a little but never as much as I used to! Or I fail and I get upset. It totally sucks.
How do you tackle coping with failure and low confidence/fear in climbing?
How do I decide whether climbing is still the right choice for me?
Does anyone else feel like can’t balance a career and sports?
Thanks for hearing me out lovely people!
submitted by Free_Piccolo4658 to climbergirls [link] [comments]
I’ve got a pretty stressful engineering job, and I know that climbing is hard for me because I’m usually very tired after work and have been doing hard af problem solving all day… So I’ve been very forgiving to myself and said: okay I’ll climb lower grades today, or this week I’m only going to go on the weekend.
But even on a lovely chill Sunday, climbing with friends I’m just not feeling it. Sometimes I feel a little but never as much as I used to! Or I fail and I get upset. It totally sucks.
How do you tackle coping with failure and low confidence/fear in climbing?
How do I decide whether climbing is still the right choice for me?
Does anyone else feel like can’t balance a career and sports?
Thanks for hearing me out lovely people!
2023.03.20 23:09 Talenheim What is your preferred level of damage in a fighting game?
In other words, how many "taps" do you want a game to have till death? A lot of games nowadays seem to be 2-tap, with the likes of Street Fighter being an exception at 3 to 4 taps per round. Is this a good trend, or would you prefer games be a little bulkier? Or maybe the opposite, and be 1- or 1.5-tap like Super Turbo?
And as a bonus side question: how much of a difference in damage do you want between combo damage and noncombo damage? How much should pokes, projectiles, and failed hitconfirms contribute towards winning a round?
submitted by Talenheim to Fighters [link] [comments]
And as a bonus side question: how much of a difference in damage do you want between combo damage and noncombo damage? How much should pokes, projectiles, and failed hitconfirms contribute towards winning a round?
2023.03.20 23:09 localgrimreefer Drinking Diet/0 Cal Beverages During Fasted State?
Hello intermittentfasting !
I'm a regular faster, though I don't have a locked number I try to aim for every day. I usually average between 14 - 20 hour fasts. Sometimes 12 if it's a stressful day. Have had great success with it since 2021!
I was wondering who here uses diet drinks between fasts, and how they find the results vs without (for weight loss)?
I try to stick to aspartame only diet beverages because I know the stuff in bottles and soda cans isn't bulked with maltodextrin so it shouldn't trigger insulin. I've personally found decent success using it, but I wanted to know how other people have gotten on using diet beverages. It seems like there's still so much research to be done in this area of weight loss benefits for IF.
Tangentially related, I haven't researched other sweeteners outside of splenda, aspartame and erythritol for insulin triggering. So far the consensus is as long as there's no maltodextrin bulking the powdered varieties, those sweeteners are fine. I'm also curious about potassium based sweeteners and insulin.
Anyways, let me know how it's been for you guys out there drinking diet drinks between fasts! Or tell me why you don't/or if you stopped for whatever reason! Thanks everyone!
submitted by localgrimreefer to intermittentfasting [link] [comments]
I'm a regular faster, though I don't have a locked number I try to aim for every day. I usually average between 14 - 20 hour fasts. Sometimes 12 if it's a stressful day. Have had great success with it since 2021!
I was wondering who here uses diet drinks between fasts, and how they find the results vs without (for weight loss)?
I try to stick to aspartame only diet beverages because I know the stuff in bottles and soda cans isn't bulked with maltodextrin so it shouldn't trigger insulin. I've personally found decent success using it, but I wanted to know how other people have gotten on using diet beverages. It seems like there's still so much research to be done in this area of weight loss benefits for IF.
Tangentially related, I haven't researched other sweeteners outside of splenda, aspartame and erythritol for insulin triggering. So far the consensus is as long as there's no maltodextrin bulking the powdered varieties, those sweeteners are fine. I'm also curious about potassium based sweeteners and insulin.
Anyways, let me know how it's been for you guys out there drinking diet drinks between fasts! Or tell me why you don't/or if you stopped for whatever reason! Thanks everyone!
2023.03.20 23:08 Gargamus How many days straight
Day 4 no sleep lol still here thinking clearly more clearly now. I see it all everything from the moment I was born till the moment I’ll be gone laughing at it. I could’ve been good and maybe I am but all that’s gone and all I’ll ever be is a rotten thing so much more better to match physically and rot I’d rather have not existed to spare the pain for people that care about me but shouldn’t. It’s alright. They’re all better without me, the curse in everyone’s life. You could’ve made me be who I wanted but I ruined it because I am who I am. I can’t be him. I’ll never be good enough. You were right though, I won’t have to be alone anymore. Three choices was it? Did you see this in your cards? It’s better you didn’t really know me, I didn’t get to curse you life like I’ve done to everyone. I could’ve been happy with you though. I would’ve tried. But I am who I am and somehow I’m still here. Maybe if I pray god will kill me quick but maybe I deserve the drawn out anguish. I wonder how many days one can go on pure adrenaline no sleep. It’s hard to drive, it’s hard to work. Why even show up when I plan to die? Not much else to do. Do you see me? Do you see who you are now? Everyone sees but you everyone knows but you. You’ll see soon enough. What a joke I’ve been. All jokes come to an end, done being the punchline. Congratulations, you’ve won. All of you. I have nothing left to give anymore.
submitted by Gargamus to u/Gargamus [link] [comments]
2023.03.20 23:07 joycee97 I might be graduating college soon and my friends and family want to celebrate but I don't want to
For context: I've been struggling to get a college degree for 7,5 years now and I am almost done. I have a conversation about finishing my graduation project this Thursday and if everything is okay I can schedule a tike to present my portfolio. If that presentation is also okay I graduate.
Here's my issue: my friends and family keep urging me to have a party once I graduate and I don't think I want to for a few reasons.
First: I'm not even sure I'll graduate and the stress is almost unbearable now that everyone around me is expecting that I will get my diploma soon. I'm so scared something will go wrong and I won't get my diploma and disappoint everyone.
Second: it doesn't feel like something worth celebrating to me. It feels more like something I barely survived (literally). Celebrating something that has made me feel miserable for so long feels wrong.
Third: Im exhausted. I feel so burned out and have had so many meltdowns lately. I'm absolutely not in the mood for celebrating. I just want to bury myself in a huge pile of squishmallows and weighted blankets.
My friends and family keep pushing me because they are convinced that I will regret it if I don't celebrate this achievement. I've tried to explain why I don't want to but they don't understand or don't want to listen. How do I make it clear to them that I REALLY DONT WANT TO CELEBRATE THIS?!
submitted by joycee97 to autism [link] [comments]
Here's my issue: my friends and family keep urging me to have a party once I graduate and I don't think I want to for a few reasons.
First: I'm not even sure I'll graduate and the stress is almost unbearable now that everyone around me is expecting that I will get my diploma soon. I'm so scared something will go wrong and I won't get my diploma and disappoint everyone.
Second: it doesn't feel like something worth celebrating to me. It feels more like something I barely survived (literally). Celebrating something that has made me feel miserable for so long feels wrong.
Third: Im exhausted. I feel so burned out and have had so many meltdowns lately. I'm absolutely not in the mood for celebrating. I just want to bury myself in a huge pile of squishmallows and weighted blankets.
My friends and family keep pushing me because they are convinced that I will regret it if I don't celebrate this achievement. I've tried to explain why I don't want to but they don't understand or don't want to listen. How do I make it clear to them that I REALLY DONT WANT TO CELEBRATE THIS?!
2023.03.20 23:07 ThatOneSchmuck Western Blot results
Terri Warren just got back to me to say that my WB came back negative for HSV1/2.
My IgG was 2.37, and I started to develop symptoms that I took pictures of and posted on a throwaway with many people from various subs saying it was herpes. Terri did comment that the symptoms were pretty atypical, but I was pretty set that it was a true positive.
I won't go back into too much detail about the process as there's already a handful of posts that explain the steps.
I've been "living" with herpes for a while and took the blot as closure, so that I could move forward. I'm honestly a bit surprised that she said they came back negative and I still feel conflicted.
I was living a life with herpes, disclosing, keeping my body in shape and pursing to live my best life. That still exists herpes or not. This community has been great in educating myself and challenging the stigma.
Even tho I'm negative, I would without a doubt still choose to date and sleep with a lady if she disclosed her status to me. Had you asked me that three months ago before I tested positive, I would've said absolutely not.
The experience, education, and having to disclose made me realize how bullshit the stigma is.
You guys are a solid community and I'll still hang around you all to continue getting educated.
submitted by ThatOneSchmuck to Herpes [link] [comments]
My IgG was 2.37, and I started to develop symptoms that I took pictures of and posted on a throwaway with many people from various subs saying it was herpes. Terri did comment that the symptoms were pretty atypical, but I was pretty set that it was a true positive.
I won't go back into too much detail about the process as there's already a handful of posts that explain the steps.
I've been "living" with herpes for a while and took the blot as closure, so that I could move forward. I'm honestly a bit surprised that she said they came back negative and I still feel conflicted.
I was living a life with herpes, disclosing, keeping my body in shape and pursing to live my best life. That still exists herpes or not. This community has been great in educating myself and challenging the stigma.
Even tho I'm negative, I would without a doubt still choose to date and sleep with a lady if she disclosed her status to me. Had you asked me that three months ago before I tested positive, I would've said absolutely not.
The experience, education, and having to disclose made me realize how bullshit the stigma is.
You guys are a solid community and I'll still hang around you all to continue getting educated.
2023.03.20 23:07 commonEraPractices A Collection of Short Stories (1)
This is a collection of short stories that have something to do with current events. Enjoy.
2023-03-20
“I see a city on a disk. Though all the powers of the world would like to watch it fall, it won’t. I look at it floating above it all. Above There’s political turmoil. Beyond the grip of local markets, this city spins around the globe. You make your business everyone’s, and in turn, everyone profits from your presence.”
I see a land so cold,” I continued. “That it smokes as if it’s on fire. Like the Mother Sphere pulls you up, the frost brings your people together. This inseparable unity warms each building by your people’s sheer attraction for the Lands of Over-There. What us foreigners see as a frigid barren disk of ill fortuity, where people live barred up inside out of necessity, it’s instead a fortress from anything cold, which hosts every fervent hearted opportunity.”
The lock beeped. The door crept open. She kicked her feet off. A skinny man with both our ages walked in. He was wearing a three-piece suit. This wasn’t uncommon, as each layer made the heating bill less hard to look at. His name and the chain on his matte black visitor’s badge were contrasted with gold.
They spoke in their language.
He said something like hi, how are you, what are you doing here?
She answered something along the lines of hi, I’m doing great, in a meeting, you?
He went on saying precisely “I’m doing twice well”—which is an interesting expression meaning; I was already doing well, but from the moment you asked about me, I started doing twice as well—then I think he said he was also here for a meeting, and “who is he?”
She told him my name, then his name to me. Whom I will refer to as Gotnaym of Over-There.
He greeted me, I presented myself with a customary nod. Which could’ve been considered curt in our culture.
Then it got too wordy for me to understand. They switched languages as he walked over to extend his hand.
Mid-shake, he said in perfect speech, “She tells me your consultancy in There is no circus. I might have some questions later, my son is investing abroad.”
Then he laughed. I tried my hardest to make my confusion pass off as surprise, all while making sure not to loosen my grip nor lose the tempo of the motion, as I smiled in what I hoped to have looked like an agreeing pose.
“He’s not interested in any clown ventures I hope, Mr. Gotnaym,” I said. “I’d be out of my league if he were.”
“That’s exactly why I’d hire you,” he explained. “Thankfully, we’re a line of miners, Mr. Consultant. Hard-working people, who bring along like-minded experts. There are no full-time artists on these disks, I’m afraid.”
I was ready to let go but he wasn’t as willing.
“It’s always a fine moment to meet someone glad to buy into their family,” I concluded. “But I might not be the right hire for advice on how you ought to spend your own money. I don’t know if she's told you my line of work?”
This made him laugh some more. He was still shaking my hand.
“She has, yes!” He looked at her after placing his free hand on my shoulder side. She was completely motionless. “Funny man,” he said in his mother tongue.
“Don’t let me interrupt you, Mr. Consultant. Please continue while we wait,” he said, finally releasing his grip to grab a seat by the backrest.
“While we wait?” I asked him.
“I just is inform,” she said. “Next meeting is push to soon. Temporary lockdown here. Please continuing, Mr. Consultant. You no leaving now.”
“Emergency?” I read in their eyes the impending dread they covered up with an interest in listening only, so they wouldn’t have to think.
“Gladly,” I said. “I guess I’ll find out soon. Thank you for giving me this time out of your day.” She had some relief mixed in with her emotions. The rest of her micro-expressions were of a combination I’ve never noticed twice. It was too particular to recreate in writing or in a film.
“Mr. Consultant talking how city infrastructure be one with immigration,” she explained. “I asking what he see in city.”
“Where was I?” I asked me.
“You were reporting how the cold brings us people together,” he told me.
Wondering if their door wasn’t soundproofed had flooded my head with blood, which drew along this fresh thought frenzy and the terrible idea that anyone could’ve heard us earlier.
“Right,” I said to start hushing my blushing. “The problem. Your city is nothing more than a cold flatland sprinkled with tall boxes where folks come and freeze to death. That’s what they see from below, down in There. When I booked my ticket, my friends argued about who would get what if I didn’t make it back.”
The suitedman sat down.
“To outsiders, to the frigid ones, these lands get people to ratify off on an early will. I mean—I signed a waiver just for the elevator ride… Too many who travel to your disks don’t come back home. Most get working visas. The deal is: you spend four months a year here, and that pays for six of vacation. The smart ones, like I’m sure your son is, do five years to invest in There’s Venus coin traps. Then they sit back and never visit again. They risk their days for the money. Not for your city, not for the people here. They say they come to live out the rest of their lives at the mines. Then if they’re lucky enough not to get shipped home as a popsicle, they go to their folk waving their phat wads of cash in the hands with the least fingers lost to the frostbite.”
“I asked the locals last night. Why would you sell everything for this? Leave your families, abandon your lifestyles—What pulled you in? They all gave me the same answer. The same one I have. The first time I came here, it only took me two days. Two days to fall in love.”
“You maybe fall in loving after no long enough, Mr. Consultant,” she said.
“Are you telling me you don’t feel the same?”
“I think,” Gotnaym interjected. Then he paused. Sort of like cutting someone off on the freeway only to slow down right after.
“I think what my colleague is trying to express here … is that all of this sounds a bit too poetic.”
He looked at her to see if she’d agree. Which, she did.
“I also think we’re both happy you really are loving the experience here, Mr. Consultant. But it takes more than feelings to move to a place like this. The ones who do immigrate are steadily emigrating in larger numbers. The workforce won’t meet the upcoming demand. We start terraforming the east perimeter straight after the election next quarter. That’s a projected two years to find enough workers, build and house multiple villages. Provided the right candidate wins.”
At that moment, I was glad to have mistakenly not skipped our philosophy professor’s class on The Ethics of Language. I got my dates mixed up and thought it was a mandatory attendance lab. She explained how Over-There’s main export was subject to ethical scrutiny. They extracted such a lucrative resource, that they could afford to import all else. From food to people. Two entirely different things, that they’d fail to source locally in any useful quantity. Therein laid the dilemma. Their dialect had evolved so as to not differentiate between workers or wheat in regard to imports. As for commodities in business, they began treating both as such on paper. Written words have real-world applications. That same export was also what their disk was made of. One giant mother-cluster of concentrated minerals.
“How long is a mine active on these disks?” I asked.
“About a half lifetime depending on the weather. You’re looking at the investment of the century, my Frozen-Nozen. Literally.”
This suddenly explained why I so easily passed off as a consultant. At least, that’s what I was thinking then. They were probably ready to pay everyone and their kids to get as many opinions on this as possible. I can’t believe I used to give mine out for free.
“Frozen-Nozen?” I asked.
“It’s a term for those who aren’t afraid of a bit of outdoor labour,” he said.
“I see. Couldn’t you just advertise that fact in There?” I pitched.
“I don’t get it.” He mimed a billboard with his hands. “Come up to Over-There, and freeze your nose off for a living wage.”
“That’s not what I meant, but really, why not? People are nomadic opportunists. They’ll move and let the frost nip at their nose if you promise them a round fiddy years of job stability. If they become permanent residents.”
“No one plans on spending fiddy years in a work village, Mr. Consultant. They’re built as temporary housing. They share a shower per unit.”
“Isn’t that an issue? People need a good quality of entertainment to stay someplace so dull when they can glance at other options. They’ll want something they can’t get anywhere else. Couple that with the appeal of privacy. Your child population levels are dropping? Intimacy widely increases from zero to one shower per household. I’d start hiring full-time artists to get some inspiration flowing. Let couples make their own entertainment. Get some comfier architecture. They'll make babies. Or get your engineers to make leisure versions of your military rovers. With enough room for two. Watch them hit wild speeds in the east bumpy lands around their camps.”
“How much would that cost?” He asked. To my relief, he then immediately reconsidered. “No, these plans are staying under permafrost. We want to attract workers, not activists.”
I must’ve looked confused.
“Much leaving people, because activist come Over-There and saying mine is kill nature. Much tourism satire is Come visit before disk is all holes,” she quoted.
“If it’s really destroying the ecosystems then I’m afraid there isn’t much—”
“What ecosystem?” He interrupted. “Nothing but people live here, Mr. Consultant. And we only cover 15% of our whole island. Most of us are all in this city. The claims are false.”
“Then why do enough of both your people and mine believe these activists?” I insisted. “Who I’ve never heard of, so they must all be online. Is complaining just something to do? How does that affect where people live?”
“Emotion of being … more purposeful than normal people,” she said. “Important maybe to many action people. But also, wireless community There having very addictivity.”
“Adictivity?” I asked. “I mean—or, what do you mean by addiction?”
She explained how our wireless communications in There were designed to get individuals to react before thinking.
Anyone reading this today won’t understand the complexity of the issue, so I’ll try to translate the way people like your great-great-grandparents used to communicate. I suggest you ask them about it if they’ve opted for resurrection therapy.
We had these sorts of primitive portable screens that were usually carried around in pockets. Pockets were these holes in our clothes that would hold stuff. When we mostly owned material items, we needed a method of having those things at our disposition. And because we only have two biological hands, most would prefer to walk about with lighter objects in all kinds of pouches. From books to babies, bags of fabrics were significant to us.
The most important pouch was the pocket. That’s the place where people put stuff they wanted to hold closest to their person. That’s because not having them nearby caused an immediate sense of emergency. Their money, their analog keys, their smokables (non digital drug consumable), the time of one day divided into 86,400 different times… Most would also keep their touch screens in their pockets.
We’d communicate through a revolutionary medium termed, “social media.” If you’re not familiar with the term, it’s because presently, that’s our only form of expression left. So we just call it talking.
Fun fact: in 1402, both words were banned if put together. For all generations coming after the criminalization of social media, to try and curb the addiction, so we could gain control over the technocratic overlords of the virtual space. Clearly, that didn’t work, but I won’t bore you with the details in this format for much longer.
To quickly finish this history lesson then, we nicknamed those screens “phones.” They were these physical things that you’d feel right on your skin. And you had to push around to type words or record either your organic image or sounds, or disproportionately more often, those of a cat. A real cat. They aren’t a digital invention! Then you’d post those representations in places called “the Internet.” The Internet would be referred to as the world today.
Humans had to mind-travel via their phones to access the world before. And they’d navigate through it by utilizing their biological hands like a bunch of Neanderthals. On Social Media in the Internet realm, other people would have to move their fingers around their screen to come look at what you posted. Can you imagine? It’s like if today, someone had to do something to hear you.
They would then react to what they saw. Kind of how people used to communicate what they thought through their body language. The only difference was that in the Old World, a public would react to a speaker on stage, and everyone went on their way afterwards. No longer under the influential energy of a cheering or booing crowd, they could think about the message. On the Internet, it would stay up, and we could keep reacting to it. Even years after something was said. The public reaction would get louder and louder and it was like it never stopped to calm down and reflect. Excitement is not a friend of thought.
As people posted more and more, they did less and less of anything else. The goal of the communication was only to react. Always as fast as possible. People started doing activities only so they could post. They lost the enjoyment of doing for the sake of doing. Everything became a reason to get a reaction out of others. Everyone became amateur stage performers. Professionals had to be trained in that regard. They had to learn how to handle themselves when their work would become a series of reactions to trigger a chain of reactions. The users of primitive Social Media never stood a chance.
It’s what she explained during our impromptu board meeting that afternoon. It’s what changed the way I saw the world as well. I watched as her theory turned out to be sufficiently accurate, and I caught myself wondering for a moment if she hadn’t had something to do with the unravelling of the events.
If you’re Neanderthal enough to remember the sound of genuine vocal chords, I invite you to imagine how she expressed it all to me in her riveting broken accent. It’s why I wrote it how she said it.
The year is 1282 again. It’s cold, the exit doors are locked down, I have an actual phone in my physical pocket…
She asked me to see mine. A ritual at the time. So I showed her. She didn’t look impressed, so I asked her to show me hers. It was nice. Real nice. So nice in fact, that I started feeling a bit shy and ended up subtly putting mine away as she explained.
“People addicted to making posting. More posting, more liking, more emotion of purposeful existing. But so many content, so much other people also looking for … valid of purposeful life, because now, day no with phone is like food no with taste. Is boring. Why eat? Why do anything? But problem happen when truth is people wanting. Because goal of social media is react, react, react. Chain reaction like nuclear. Have be fast. Social media not receive, think, maybe react if wise. Social media no survive this way, very boring if not in-person meeting for exchange serious ideas. No win Internet point for taking time, finding truth, telling people wrong too. No good feeling also, if thinking, no posting, no outside influence saying yes you living and you be valid person. So no react, no valid existence.”
She paused. We both glanced at one another to confirm what we had already decided. Neither of us were going to interrupt her train of ideas. I was impressed. Not by what she was saying, though. It wasn’t anything we didn’t know. It was more that she could almost speak our language when she carried herself in her flow.
“People define value by number of attention they getting. They getting attention by posting posting posting, reacting reacting reacting, and no thinking thinking then maybe posting after long. Thinking bad for business if business is price of reacting. Business need people pushing button not after long. Social media Model is job of push button. Worker build city, push button too you thinking. But building infrastructure, opportunity, thinking involved more than even writer, Mr. Consultant. Bad thinking kill in building city.”
It took me a second to break character. Then I remembered who I really was. Eventually I realized she had just insulted me. I gave a warm chuckle. This disrupted Gotnaym’s attention. She went on.
“Influencer is job of push button to getting more people pushing button before thinking. Influencer is good if follower push button with no thinking. Even in war business, reacting not always best strategy. Pushing … gun button?”
“Trigger,” he helped.
“Pushing trigger no thinking is not same like pushing trigger because quick thinking. Influencer like is … study with school only to becoming teacher after. But only attaining knowledge in reacting more. Not attaining quick thinking. Not same. This worrying functionary like Mr. Fore Gotnaym, because how control crowd online that only goal is react react react, no thinking? On Internet, better no thinking. More reacting, more people see their reacting first and reacting to it so more people also get reacting, more people only agree for attention, and more message get famous. More message famous, no worry if true, more people believe. More people believe, less people believe when truth happen. Look at phone, Mr. Consultant.”
I took it out of my pocket.
“Make posting,” she said. “I showing you.”
The suitedman visibly refrained himself from stopping me. I was two days behind on checking in with my Internet experiment, so I did what she asked. When I connected to Social Media, my feed was filled with alerts on posts. Something about disinformation and people fighting over the truth of the universe and if it was really the end for us. The media application wasn’t this agitated two days ago. Warnings on misinformation were mostly centred around past events, never regarding upcoming ones from what I had seen before.
“Is this why we’re in a lockdown?” I asked.
“Yes…” she reacted.
“So why does it say that it’s all a fabrication?”
The room fell dead quiet. Her bottom lip quivered and she turned around to burst in muffled sobs. She just broke down. It was surreal. The man stood up to whisper something. She nodded with her head down, so he walked towards me. Then past me and to the windows, making sure I followed him by spinning in my chair. My back ended up facing her.
“Under different circumstances, you wouldn’t be locked down with us, Mr. Tourist,” he said.
Uh-oh, I thought. This culture seemed to have developed a taste for cleverly employing names.
“But there’s no use in locking you up for espionage either, it looks like your people are willing to let you rot anyway.”
“What’s going on?” I asked. She sniffled and told us I could turn around now.
“Don’t worry kid. You’re either the best spy I’ve met and you can die with dignity, or you’re the worst ever, and you’re worth more to us as living propaganda if we make it out of this,” he said, patting my shoulder as he walked by.
“I didn’t get your answer,” I mumbled as I turned around. Then I understood that he was trying to make her laugh.
“Either you’re the best,” he repeated. “Because I haven’t heard even a single high-school rumour about you. Or you’re the worst, because you were really a shit consultant just then.”
She drew in a chopped breath, which she released in a soft chuckle of relief. I thought maybe this was a prank. But then why was she crying?
I asked her what was going on. She nodded at him and he told me he wasn’t joking. They really considered that I was a spy from There. This theory didn’t hold any water in the end. The umbrella company under which the most popular international platforms operated, had somehow been convinced to place a warning on the forecast of a natural disaster headed for the disks. The corporation happened to have all their servers in There’s jurisdiction. All the privately owned media companies followed suit just to try and survive.
Gotnaym explained how anyone with any scientific authority who had attempted to voice their doubts had immediately been shadowbanned. They injected their profiles with a fake number of views and likes, and used bots to make it look like there were people engaging with their content. As far as the whole globe was convinced, as far as the citizens of Over-There were concerned, this admonition had been discredited a month before the announcement of the disaster. The United OV Body sent out an emergency text message, an even more primitive form of communication, confirming the threat to their civilians, but it was in vain. The videos debunking the warning had timestamps dating too far back. And the Internet had already decided that it was all a hoax. Eighteen world leading scientists, all saying it was propaganda. The people in this city didn’t believe they were about to die.
How could I have missed this? Especially if I had checked everything everywhere online before buying my ticket?
Like a kid again, it slipped out.
“Why?”
He rubbed his thumb and two fingers together. Money.
“Environmental warfare is not a crime, Mr. Tourist. And you seem to be collateral damage to them.”
They showed me a video of myself reassuring the world that I was okay, and that no one on this disk believed any of the disinformation propagated by the unhinged astronomers. That Over-There’s authorities were perfectly aware that it was all a hoax. It was dated two hours before I set foot on the disk. On the plus side, I never did get over a hundred million views before. To most of the world, I was a hero, here to bring down the anti-science disinformation machine. They were looking at an AI-generated video of me. They even got my voice right. My family had liked my video. My dad had sent me a message saying he was proud.
I looked up and plunged my eyes in her frightened face. It stripped me forever of any good feelings. In one hour, I felt the lifelong dissatisfaction of a hard drug addict. That day, I lost my faith in reality. To this day, I cannot enjoy anything. Not after what happened. I feel too guilty.
“Shouldn’t technological warfare be a crime, though?” I said.
“You could call a stick with a pointy rock on its end a technological advancement.”
It was becoming trickier to think straight. How can you? When you’re about to take a final blow, and there’s nowhere to run, no strength to block. It was like getting pre-concussed.
“How long until it happens?”
“It might not. We’re waiting on people to show up here and determine if it can be avoided. So try to think of something else in the meantime,” he said.
We said nothing.
“There is one thing neither of you can avoid, though… So you might as well make your peace with it now,” he added.
“What it is?” She asked.
“Mr. Tourist is about to meet your father.” He said. Then he looked at me. “Or is it Mr. Consultant to him?”
submitted by commonEraPractices to u/commonEraPractices [link] [comments]
2023-03-20
The Uneven Divide - Part 3
(Part 1 and 2 in first post of Collection)“I see a city on a disk. Though all the powers of the world would like to watch it fall, it won’t. I look at it floating above it all. Above There’s political turmoil. Beyond the grip of local markets, this city spins around the globe. You make your business everyone’s, and in turn, everyone profits from your presence.”
I see a land so cold,” I continued. “That it smokes as if it’s on fire. Like the Mother Sphere pulls you up, the frost brings your people together. This inseparable unity warms each building by your people’s sheer attraction for the Lands of Over-There. What us foreigners see as a frigid barren disk of ill fortuity, where people live barred up inside out of necessity, it’s instead a fortress from anything cold, which hosts every fervent hearted opportunity.”
The lock beeped. The door crept open. She kicked her feet off. A skinny man with both our ages walked in. He was wearing a three-piece suit. This wasn’t uncommon, as each layer made the heating bill less hard to look at. His name and the chain on his matte black visitor’s badge were contrasted with gold.
They spoke in their language.
He said something like hi, how are you, what are you doing here?
She answered something along the lines of hi, I’m doing great, in a meeting, you?
He went on saying precisely “I’m doing twice well”—which is an interesting expression meaning; I was already doing well, but from the moment you asked about me, I started doing twice as well—then I think he said he was also here for a meeting, and “who is he?”
She told him my name, then his name to me. Whom I will refer to as Gotnaym of Over-There.
He greeted me, I presented myself with a customary nod. Which could’ve been considered curt in our culture.
Then it got too wordy for me to understand. They switched languages as he walked over to extend his hand.
Mid-shake, he said in perfect speech, “She tells me your consultancy in There is no circus. I might have some questions later, my son is investing abroad.”
Then he laughed. I tried my hardest to make my confusion pass off as surprise, all while making sure not to loosen my grip nor lose the tempo of the motion, as I smiled in what I hoped to have looked like an agreeing pose.
“He’s not interested in any clown ventures I hope, Mr. Gotnaym,” I said. “I’d be out of my league if he were.”
“That’s exactly why I’d hire you,” he explained. “Thankfully, we’re a line of miners, Mr. Consultant. Hard-working people, who bring along like-minded experts. There are no full-time artists on these disks, I’m afraid.”
I was ready to let go but he wasn’t as willing.
“It’s always a fine moment to meet someone glad to buy into their family,” I concluded. “But I might not be the right hire for advice on how you ought to spend your own money. I don’t know if she's told you my line of work?”
This made him laugh some more. He was still shaking my hand.
“She has, yes!” He looked at her after placing his free hand on my shoulder side. She was completely motionless. “Funny man,” he said in his mother tongue.
“Don’t let me interrupt you, Mr. Consultant. Please continue while we wait,” he said, finally releasing his grip to grab a seat by the backrest.
“While we wait?” I asked him.
“I just is inform,” she said. “Next meeting is push to soon. Temporary lockdown here. Please continuing, Mr. Consultant. You no leaving now.”
“Emergency?” I read in their eyes the impending dread they covered up with an interest in listening only, so they wouldn’t have to think.
“Gladly,” I said. “I guess I’ll find out soon. Thank you for giving me this time out of your day.” She had some relief mixed in with her emotions. The rest of her micro-expressions were of a combination I’ve never noticed twice. It was too particular to recreate in writing or in a film.
“Mr. Consultant talking how city infrastructure be one with immigration,” she explained. “I asking what he see in city.”
“Where was I?” I asked me.
“You were reporting how the cold brings us people together,” he told me.
Wondering if their door wasn’t soundproofed had flooded my head with blood, which drew along this fresh thought frenzy and the terrible idea that anyone could’ve heard us earlier.
“Right,” I said to start hushing my blushing. “The problem. Your city is nothing more than a cold flatland sprinkled with tall boxes where folks come and freeze to death. That’s what they see from below, down in There. When I booked my ticket, my friends argued about who would get what if I didn’t make it back.”
The suitedman sat down.
“To outsiders, to the frigid ones, these lands get people to ratify off on an early will. I mean—I signed a waiver just for the elevator ride… Too many who travel to your disks don’t come back home. Most get working visas. The deal is: you spend four months a year here, and that pays for six of vacation. The smart ones, like I’m sure your son is, do five years to invest in There’s Venus coin traps. Then they sit back and never visit again. They risk their days for the money. Not for your city, not for the people here. They say they come to live out the rest of their lives at the mines. Then if they’re lucky enough not to get shipped home as a popsicle, they go to their folk waving their phat wads of cash in the hands with the least fingers lost to the frostbite.”
“I asked the locals last night. Why would you sell everything for this? Leave your families, abandon your lifestyles—What pulled you in? They all gave me the same answer. The same one I have. The first time I came here, it only took me two days. Two days to fall in love.”
“You maybe fall in loving after no long enough, Mr. Consultant,” she said.
“Are you telling me you don’t feel the same?”
“I think,” Gotnaym interjected. Then he paused. Sort of like cutting someone off on the freeway only to slow down right after.
“I think what my colleague is trying to express here … is that all of this sounds a bit too poetic.”
He looked at her to see if she’d agree. Which, she did.
“I also think we’re both happy you really are loving the experience here, Mr. Consultant. But it takes more than feelings to move to a place like this. The ones who do immigrate are steadily emigrating in larger numbers. The workforce won’t meet the upcoming demand. We start terraforming the east perimeter straight after the election next quarter. That’s a projected two years to find enough workers, build and house multiple villages. Provided the right candidate wins.”
At that moment, I was glad to have mistakenly not skipped our philosophy professor’s class on The Ethics of Language. I got my dates mixed up and thought it was a mandatory attendance lab. She explained how Over-There’s main export was subject to ethical scrutiny. They extracted such a lucrative resource, that they could afford to import all else. From food to people. Two entirely different things, that they’d fail to source locally in any useful quantity. Therein laid the dilemma. Their dialect had evolved so as to not differentiate between workers or wheat in regard to imports. As for commodities in business, they began treating both as such on paper. Written words have real-world applications. That same export was also what their disk was made of. One giant mother-cluster of concentrated minerals.
“How long is a mine active on these disks?” I asked.
“About a half lifetime depending on the weather. You’re looking at the investment of the century, my Frozen-Nozen. Literally.”
This suddenly explained why I so easily passed off as a consultant. At least, that’s what I was thinking then. They were probably ready to pay everyone and their kids to get as many opinions on this as possible. I can’t believe I used to give mine out for free.
“Frozen-Nozen?” I asked.
“It’s a term for those who aren’t afraid of a bit of outdoor labour,” he said.
“I see. Couldn’t you just advertise that fact in There?” I pitched.
“I don’t get it.” He mimed a billboard with his hands. “Come up to Over-There, and freeze your nose off for a living wage.”
“That’s not what I meant, but really, why not? People are nomadic opportunists. They’ll move and let the frost nip at their nose if you promise them a round fiddy years of job stability. If they become permanent residents.”
“No one plans on spending fiddy years in a work village, Mr. Consultant. They’re built as temporary housing. They share a shower per unit.”
“Isn’t that an issue? People need a good quality of entertainment to stay someplace so dull when they can glance at other options. They’ll want something they can’t get anywhere else. Couple that with the appeal of privacy. Your child population levels are dropping? Intimacy widely increases from zero to one shower per household. I’d start hiring full-time artists to get some inspiration flowing. Let couples make their own entertainment. Get some comfier architecture. They'll make babies. Or get your engineers to make leisure versions of your military rovers. With enough room for two. Watch them hit wild speeds in the east bumpy lands around their camps.”
“How much would that cost?” He asked. To my relief, he then immediately reconsidered. “No, these plans are staying under permafrost. We want to attract workers, not activists.”
I must’ve looked confused.
“Much leaving people, because activist come Over-There and saying mine is kill nature. Much tourism satire is Come visit before disk is all holes,” she quoted.
“If it’s really destroying the ecosystems then I’m afraid there isn’t much—”
“What ecosystem?” He interrupted. “Nothing but people live here, Mr. Consultant. And we only cover 15% of our whole island. Most of us are all in this city. The claims are false.”
“Then why do enough of both your people and mine believe these activists?” I insisted. “Who I’ve never heard of, so they must all be online. Is complaining just something to do? How does that affect where people live?”
“Emotion of being … more purposeful than normal people,” she said. “Important maybe to many action people. But also, wireless community There having very addictivity.”
“Adictivity?” I asked. “I mean—or, what do you mean by addiction?”
She explained how our wireless communications in There were designed to get individuals to react before thinking.
Anyone reading this today won’t understand the complexity of the issue, so I’ll try to translate the way people like your great-great-grandparents used to communicate. I suggest you ask them about it if they’ve opted for resurrection therapy.
We had these sorts of primitive portable screens that were usually carried around in pockets. Pockets were these holes in our clothes that would hold stuff. When we mostly owned material items, we needed a method of having those things at our disposition. And because we only have two biological hands, most would prefer to walk about with lighter objects in all kinds of pouches. From books to babies, bags of fabrics were significant to us.
The most important pouch was the pocket. That’s the place where people put stuff they wanted to hold closest to their person. That’s because not having them nearby caused an immediate sense of emergency. Their money, their analog keys, their smokables (non digital drug consumable), the time of one day divided into 86,400 different times… Most would also keep their touch screens in their pockets.
We’d communicate through a revolutionary medium termed, “social media.” If you’re not familiar with the term, it’s because presently, that’s our only form of expression left. So we just call it talking.
Fun fact: in 1402, both words were banned if put together. For all generations coming after the criminalization of social media, to try and curb the addiction, so we could gain control over the technocratic overlords of the virtual space. Clearly, that didn’t work, but I won’t bore you with the details in this format for much longer.
To quickly finish this history lesson then, we nicknamed those screens “phones.” They were these physical things that you’d feel right on your skin. And you had to push around to type words or record either your organic image or sounds, or disproportionately more often, those of a cat. A real cat. They aren’t a digital invention! Then you’d post those representations in places called “the Internet.” The Internet would be referred to as the world today.
Humans had to mind-travel via their phones to access the world before. And they’d navigate through it by utilizing their biological hands like a bunch of Neanderthals. On Social Media in the Internet realm, other people would have to move their fingers around their screen to come look at what you posted. Can you imagine? It’s like if today, someone had to do something to hear you.
They would then react to what they saw. Kind of how people used to communicate what they thought through their body language. The only difference was that in the Old World, a public would react to a speaker on stage, and everyone went on their way afterwards. No longer under the influential energy of a cheering or booing crowd, they could think about the message. On the Internet, it would stay up, and we could keep reacting to it. Even years after something was said. The public reaction would get louder and louder and it was like it never stopped to calm down and reflect. Excitement is not a friend of thought.
As people posted more and more, they did less and less of anything else. The goal of the communication was only to react. Always as fast as possible. People started doing activities only so they could post. They lost the enjoyment of doing for the sake of doing. Everything became a reason to get a reaction out of others. Everyone became amateur stage performers. Professionals had to be trained in that regard. They had to learn how to handle themselves when their work would become a series of reactions to trigger a chain of reactions. The users of primitive Social Media never stood a chance.
It’s what she explained during our impromptu board meeting that afternoon. It’s what changed the way I saw the world as well. I watched as her theory turned out to be sufficiently accurate, and I caught myself wondering for a moment if she hadn’t had something to do with the unravelling of the events.
If you’re Neanderthal enough to remember the sound of genuine vocal chords, I invite you to imagine how she expressed it all to me in her riveting broken accent. It’s why I wrote it how she said it.
The year is 1282 again. It’s cold, the exit doors are locked down, I have an actual phone in my physical pocket…
She asked me to see mine. A ritual at the time. So I showed her. She didn’t look impressed, so I asked her to show me hers. It was nice. Real nice. So nice in fact, that I started feeling a bit shy and ended up subtly putting mine away as she explained.
“People addicted to making posting. More posting, more liking, more emotion of purposeful existing. But so many content, so much other people also looking for … valid of purposeful life, because now, day no with phone is like food no with taste. Is boring. Why eat? Why do anything? But problem happen when truth is people wanting. Because goal of social media is react, react, react. Chain reaction like nuclear. Have be fast. Social media not receive, think, maybe react if wise. Social media no survive this way, very boring if not in-person meeting for exchange serious ideas. No win Internet point for taking time, finding truth, telling people wrong too. No good feeling also, if thinking, no posting, no outside influence saying yes you living and you be valid person. So no react, no valid existence.”
She paused. We both glanced at one another to confirm what we had already decided. Neither of us were going to interrupt her train of ideas. I was impressed. Not by what she was saying, though. It wasn’t anything we didn’t know. It was more that she could almost speak our language when she carried herself in her flow.
“People define value by number of attention they getting. They getting attention by posting posting posting, reacting reacting reacting, and no thinking thinking then maybe posting after long. Thinking bad for business if business is price of reacting. Business need people pushing button not after long. Social media Model is job of push button. Worker build city, push button too you thinking. But building infrastructure, opportunity, thinking involved more than even writer, Mr. Consultant. Bad thinking kill in building city.”
It took me a second to break character. Then I remembered who I really was. Eventually I realized she had just insulted me. I gave a warm chuckle. This disrupted Gotnaym’s attention. She went on.
“Influencer is job of push button to getting more people pushing button before thinking. Influencer is good if follower push button with no thinking. Even in war business, reacting not always best strategy. Pushing … gun button?”
“Trigger,” he helped.
“Pushing trigger no thinking is not same like pushing trigger because quick thinking. Influencer like is … study with school only to becoming teacher after. But only attaining knowledge in reacting more. Not attaining quick thinking. Not same. This worrying functionary like Mr. Fore Gotnaym, because how control crowd online that only goal is react react react, no thinking? On Internet, better no thinking. More reacting, more people see their reacting first and reacting to it so more people also get reacting, more people only agree for attention, and more message get famous. More message famous, no worry if true, more people believe. More people believe, less people believe when truth happen. Look at phone, Mr. Consultant.”
I took it out of my pocket.
“Make posting,” she said. “I showing you.”
The suitedman visibly refrained himself from stopping me. I was two days behind on checking in with my Internet experiment, so I did what she asked. When I connected to Social Media, my feed was filled with alerts on posts. Something about disinformation and people fighting over the truth of the universe and if it was really the end for us. The media application wasn’t this agitated two days ago. Warnings on misinformation were mostly centred around past events, never regarding upcoming ones from what I had seen before.
“Is this why we’re in a lockdown?” I asked.
“Yes…” she reacted.
“So why does it say that it’s all a fabrication?”
The room fell dead quiet. Her bottom lip quivered and she turned around to burst in muffled sobs. She just broke down. It was surreal. The man stood up to whisper something. She nodded with her head down, so he walked towards me. Then past me and to the windows, making sure I followed him by spinning in my chair. My back ended up facing her.
“Under different circumstances, you wouldn’t be locked down with us, Mr. Tourist,” he said.
Uh-oh, I thought. This culture seemed to have developed a taste for cleverly employing names.
“But there’s no use in locking you up for espionage either, it looks like your people are willing to let you rot anyway.”
“What’s going on?” I asked. She sniffled and told us I could turn around now.
“Don’t worry kid. You’re either the best spy I’ve met and you can die with dignity, or you’re the worst ever, and you’re worth more to us as living propaganda if we make it out of this,” he said, patting my shoulder as he walked by.
“I didn’t get your answer,” I mumbled as I turned around. Then I understood that he was trying to make her laugh.
“Either you’re the best,” he repeated. “Because I haven’t heard even a single high-school rumour about you. Or you’re the worst, because you were really a shit consultant just then.”
She drew in a chopped breath, which she released in a soft chuckle of relief. I thought maybe this was a prank. But then why was she crying?
I asked her what was going on. She nodded at him and he told me he wasn’t joking. They really considered that I was a spy from There. This theory didn’t hold any water in the end. The umbrella company under which the most popular international platforms operated, had somehow been convinced to place a warning on the forecast of a natural disaster headed for the disks. The corporation happened to have all their servers in There’s jurisdiction. All the privately owned media companies followed suit just to try and survive.
Gotnaym explained how anyone with any scientific authority who had attempted to voice their doubts had immediately been shadowbanned. They injected their profiles with a fake number of views and likes, and used bots to make it look like there were people engaging with their content. As far as the whole globe was convinced, as far as the citizens of Over-There were concerned, this admonition had been discredited a month before the announcement of the disaster. The United OV Body sent out an emergency text message, an even more primitive form of communication, confirming the threat to their civilians, but it was in vain. The videos debunking the warning had timestamps dating too far back. And the Internet had already decided that it was all a hoax. Eighteen world leading scientists, all saying it was propaganda. The people in this city didn’t believe they were about to die.
How could I have missed this? Especially if I had checked everything everywhere online before buying my ticket?
Like a kid again, it slipped out.
“Why?”
He rubbed his thumb and two fingers together. Money.
“Environmental warfare is not a crime, Mr. Tourist. And you seem to be collateral damage to them.”
They showed me a video of myself reassuring the world that I was okay, and that no one on this disk believed any of the disinformation propagated by the unhinged astronomers. That Over-There’s authorities were perfectly aware that it was all a hoax. It was dated two hours before I set foot on the disk. On the plus side, I never did get over a hundred million views before. To most of the world, I was a hero, here to bring down the anti-science disinformation machine. They were looking at an AI-generated video of me. They even got my voice right. My family had liked my video. My dad had sent me a message saying he was proud.
I looked up and plunged my eyes in her frightened face. It stripped me forever of any good feelings. In one hour, I felt the lifelong dissatisfaction of a hard drug addict. That day, I lost my faith in reality. To this day, I cannot enjoy anything. Not after what happened. I feel too guilty.
“Shouldn’t technological warfare be a crime, though?” I said.
“You could call a stick with a pointy rock on its end a technological advancement.”
It was becoming trickier to think straight. How can you? When you’re about to take a final blow, and there’s nowhere to run, no strength to block. It was like getting pre-concussed.
“How long until it happens?”
“It might not. We’re waiting on people to show up here and determine if it can be avoided. So try to think of something else in the meantime,” he said.
We said nothing.
“There is one thing neither of you can avoid, though… So you might as well make your peace with it now,” he added.
“What it is?” She asked.
“Mr. Tourist is about to meet your father.” He said. Then he looked at me. “Or is it Mr. Consultant to him?”
2023.03.20 23:07 4cam10 What Champions that were once popular are no longer popular?
Ever since Nidalee’s VO update, I’ve had a bit of a thought regarding champion popularity, the reason being is if this were only a few years back I get the impression there would be more discussion and/or hype even though Nid’s popularity was in a fair bit of decline then as well.
So the question I’d like to ask this Reddit is: What champions do you feel that were once popular that no longer are? And would it be possible for them to be popular once more?
Please note that what people might consider populaunpopular can be very subjective for that reason I don’t strictly think there’s a wrong opinion here, especially when in game and out of game popularity can be two different things.
Since Nidalee was the champ that gave me this idea, I’ll start off with her, my breakdown might be very long because I had a long time to think about this and hopefully, I don’t accidentally write an essay.
I’ll be going through The Rise, The fall and The future of Nidalee in my post.
Q, Flash. Best champ in the game.
Jokes aside, I heard Nidalee was an absolute terror on the rift before her rework this was a bit before my time playing league so I unfortunately never got to actually play Nidalee in this state, but I’m aware she was rather popular and somewhat toxic on the rift.
Even after the rework Nidalee was still rather popular and still played for many years after this, she’s a very fun champion despite the high mechanical skill required to play her.
From Nidalee’s full release back In late 2009 to early 2013, Nidalee had received six skins, each skin released (With the exception being Headhunter as it was over a year between it and Bewitching) had released not even 12 months between each other, which by today's standards is crazy.
You don’t get that many skins unless the champion is rather popular. Even when there were significantly less champions in the game. Nidalee currently has thirteen skins in the game with one of those being the DWG skin an impressive feat for a champion that isn’t so popular anymore.
Additionally, any sort of art contest that Riot ran during the early 2010s you can be sure you’ll see many Nidalee’s within that contest.
The reason I believe that Nidalee was so popular to make fan art of is simply because of her design it’s very simple, doesn’t have a lot of specific details even then you don’t need to be completely accurate as you can still make it look like Nidalee, as long as you’re good at human anatomy you can make a good Nidalee.
There’s also the fact that Nidalee happens to be a rather attractive woman wearing very little clothing, that might also have something to do with why she was so popular.
Unfortunately, most of the fanart of Nidalee from this era is stuck on DevientArt, a site not many people really use anymore and, in a way, kinda feels like a bit of the league fandom that has been lost to time as a result.
The only official merchandise you can obtain of Nidalee these days is a Nidalee poster from the League website and I’m pretty sure I can get that for cheaper from unofficial storefronts.
And forgive me if I’m wrong, this is the first time I’ve really tried to look into League media, but I haven’t really found much of Nidalee being shown, I did find she made a short appearance during The Worlds 2015 video, but not much else beyond that I could really find.
Especially when Nidalee is a champ that requires high mechanical skill and you don’t necessarily always get rewarded for it. There are better champions for Jungle that are easier to play and will cause you less stress.
Because Nids not great at the moment you might even get flamed by your teammates for attempting to pick her.
This years recent jungle changes don’t seem to help Nidalee much at all, although a recent patch that has somewhat buffed counter jungling has helped her a bit but it’s uncertain if this will truly help her in the long term.
There is some good news at least, she does at least see significant play in ARAM, probably helps that people just walk into Nids Spears on that game mode for some reason. You’re also not going to get flamed for picking her here, which is pretty nice I guess.
Then there was last year with DK vs Gen G, where despite Canyon massively gapping Peanut as Nid and the team getting all 15 tower plates they still lost the game. That does not mean it’s impossible to win with her, it just means there are better champs to pick.
Additionally Nidalee’s skins that change her skin tone have become another societal taboo, as it can be seen as ‘white-washing’ in a few ways.
I really wish I didn’t have to mention Nidalee’s sex appeal as I feel that would overtake all discussion regarding Nidalee but unfortunately it’s both a very important part of her character design and a big reason why she became so popular outside of gameplay. It’s not something you can particularly ignore unfortunately.
I believe the response to the VO change was rather mixed as well and I don’t particularly think it’ll make Nidalee more popular or even less controversial for that matter.
Considering she’s barely been involved in media prior to this point, I doubt she’s going to make much more of an appearance in anything league related.
The ASU will be rather controversial because given the direction of Nidalee’s VO, a ASU will no change a lot of her skins overall aesthetic, which will definitely make some people mad as again and if the new skins don’t make the skintones all similar to that of base Nidalee that will make another group of people mad.
May some Deity protect whomever has the task of remaking the French Maid Nidalee skin, cause even with Nid’s decline in popularity redoing that skin and potientially less lewd will likely result in a shorter life expectancy.
Speaking of that, since it’s likely any ASU will have Nidalee’s old skins be heavily changed, it could present an issue to players that they’re getting a wildly different skin to the one that they bought. Not that this has stopped Riot in the past but it’s something to think about.
TLDR: I wrote a post talking about how Nidalee isn’t as popular as she used to be it’s possibly a bit too long and I want to know your opinion on what Champs have become unpopular over the years.
submitted by 4cam10 to leagueoflegends [link] [comments]
So the question I’d like to ask this Reddit is: What champions do you feel that were once popular that no longer are? And would it be possible for them to be popular once more?
Please note that what people might consider populaunpopular can be very subjective for that reason I don’t strictly think there’s a wrong opinion here, especially when in game and out of game popularity can be two different things.
Since Nidalee was the champ that gave me this idea, I’ll start off with her, my breakdown might be very long because I had a long time to think about this and hopefully, I don’t accidentally write an essay.
I’ll be going through The Rise, The fall and The future of Nidalee in my post.
The Rise of Nidalee
Pre rework Nidlee
Jokes aside, I heard Nidalee was an absolute terror on the rift before her rework this was a bit before my time playing league so I unfortunately never got to actually play Nidalee in this state, but I’m aware she was rather popular and somewhat toxic on the rift.
Even after the rework Nidalee was still rather popular and still played for many years after this, she’s a very fun champion despite the high mechanical skill required to play her.
Nidalees large amount of skins released early on
This is probably one of the biggest examples I can think of in terms of Nidalees popularity.From Nidalee’s full release back In late 2009 to early 2013, Nidalee had received six skins, each skin released (With the exception being Headhunter as it was over a year between it and Bewitching) had released not even 12 months between each other, which by today's standards is crazy.
You don’t get that many skins unless the champion is rather popular. Even when there were significantly less champions in the game. Nidalee currently has thirteen skins in the game with one of those being the DWG skin an impressive feat for a champion that isn’t so popular anymore.
The Fanart of Nid throughout 2010 to 2016
The amount of fanart Nidalee got throughout the early 2010s was crazy, people that weren’t even fans of league or really familiar with league were drawing fan art of her and these days unless that character is someone like Ahri, that doesn’t really happen much.Additionally, any sort of art contest that Riot ran during the early 2010s you can be sure you’ll see many Nidalee’s within that contest.
The reason I believe that Nidalee was so popular to make fan art of is simply because of her design it’s very simple, doesn’t have a lot of specific details even then you don’t need to be completely accurate as you can still make it look like Nidalee, as long as you’re good at human anatomy you can make a good Nidalee.
There’s also the fact that Nidalee happens to be a rather attractive woman wearing very little clothing, that might also have something to do with why she was so popular.
Unfortunately, most of the fanart of Nidalee from this era is stuck on DevientArt, a site not many people really use anymore and, in a way, kinda feels like a bit of the league fandom that has been lost to time as a result.
The Downfall
Merchandise and Nidalee within LoL media
Or lack thereof, recent years Nidalee hasn’t gotten much merchandise, I did try to research and it indeed does seem like Nidalee did get some collectable statues made of her both official and unofficial but considering what I’m about to mention in ‘Changing Society Taboos’ I doubt we’ll see much more of her. I did find a Head Hunter Nidalee statue but I’m unsure if it’s actually official or not.The only official merchandise you can obtain of Nidalee these days is a Nidalee poster from the League website and I’m pretty sure I can get that for cheaper from unofficial storefronts.
And forgive me if I’m wrong, this is the first time I’ve really tried to look into League media, but I haven’t really found much of Nidalee being shown, I did find she made a short appearance during The Worlds 2015 video, but not much else beyond that I could really find.
The Jungle role and Nidalees role within it
The Jungle role I feel is one of the most stressful and flamed roles in the game, given that this is the only place that Nidalee is viable this no doubt had effects over her popularity over the years.Especially when Nidalee is a champ that requires high mechanical skill and you don’t necessarily always get rewarded for it. There are better champions for Jungle that are easier to play and will cause you less stress.
Because Nids not great at the moment you might even get flamed by your teammates for attempting to pick her.
This years recent jungle changes don’t seem to help Nidalee much at all, although a recent patch that has somewhat buffed counter jungling has helped her a bit but it’s uncertain if this will truly help her in the long term.
There is some good news at least, she does at least see significant play in ARAM, probably helps that people just walk into Nids Spears on that game mode for some reason. You’re also not going to get flamed for picking her here, which is pretty nice I guess.
Nidalee in Pro play
I don’t want to try and speak for pros on what they believe is or isn’t strong but considering nearly every team that has tried to pull out the Nid has lost their games this year, I’m pretty confident in her not being good there either at the moment.Then there was last year with DK vs Gen G, where despite Canyon massively gapping Peanut as Nid and the team getting all 15 tower plates they still lost the game. That does not mean it’s impossible to win with her, it just means there are better champs to pick.
Changing Society Taboos
Sex Appeal is something that has started becoming Taboo in video games and even modern culture over years, the problem is this was a big reason as to why she become so popular to begin with and still is a reason why so many female league champs are so popular. Still Nidalee is probably one of the champions most heavily defined by her sex appeal in the past.Additionally Nidalee’s skins that change her skin tone have become another societal taboo, as it can be seen as ‘white-washing’ in a few ways.
I really wish I didn’t have to mention Nidalee’s sex appeal as I feel that would overtake all discussion regarding Nidalee but unfortunately it’s both a very important part of her character design and a big reason why she became so popular outside of gameplay. It’s not something you can particularly ignore unfortunately.
Nidalee’s future
I hate to be a downer but I don’t really see a path forward that would in anyway make Nidalee popular again, mainly because of the ‘Changing Society Taboos’ that I mentioned earlier.Nidalee’s VO change
Despite the VO change, I doubt that those that disliked Nidalee based on her sex appeal to are going to pick her up now, especially when there was no ASU to replace Nidalees more lewd attire and her problems with not getting picked in game seem to have very little to do with her being sexy or not.I believe the response to the VO change was rather mixed as well and I don’t particularly think it’ll make Nidalee more popular or even less controversial for that matter.
Considering she’s barely been involved in media prior to this point, I doubt she’s going to make much more of an appearance in anything league related.
Any potiential ASU
Considering how long it took us to even get a Skarner rework and even if Nidalee was next in line to get an ASU it would take ages, probably even longer than usual considering they have to make two models for Nidalee, One for her Human form and another for her Cougar form.The ASU will be rather controversial because given the direction of Nidalee’s VO, a ASU will no change a lot of her skins overall aesthetic, which will definitely make some people mad as again and if the new skins don’t make the skintones all similar to that of base Nidalee that will make another group of people mad.
May some Deity protect whomever has the task of remaking the French Maid Nidalee skin, cause even with Nid’s decline in popularity redoing that skin and potientially less lewd will likely result in a shorter life expectancy.
Speaking of that, since it’s likely any ASU will have Nidalee’s old skins be heavily changed, it could present an issue to players that they’re getting a wildly different skin to the one that they bought. Not that this has stopped Riot in the past but it’s something to think about.
Conclusion
I spent a lot of time than I should’ve trying to explain why I believe Nidalee is not popular anymore. Please give me your opinions on which champions you believe aren’t popular anymore so it doesn’t feel like I wasted my time on nothing.TLDR: I wrote a post talking about how Nidalee isn’t as popular as she used to be it’s possibly a bit too long and I want to know your opinion on what Champs have become unpopular over the years.
2023.03.20 23:07 RDCLder Some Thoughts/Questions
I finished watching both animes, the OVAs, and the movie a few times now, and after reading through a lot Reddit/Quora/Stack Exchange posts, I still have some thoughts and questions I want to address. I've read the VNs shed more light on everything so I'll check those out once I have time.
First DMail and Alpha/Beta Divergence
In S;G episode 1, sending the first DMail causes the worldline to shift from a beta worldline to an alpha one, but I still have some confusion about that. For the DMail to cause the shift, my understanding is that there must have been at least one iteration at the very beginning where Kurisu dies for real (not killed by future Okabe), Okabe somehow gets alerted to this (no future Okabe scream to catch his attention), so following sequence of event unfolds:
However, I feel like this is probably incorrect, and this may be one of those cases where Suzuha just always travels to the past, and there's no initial origin point where Kurisu dies, and her father steals her time travel paper. It just never happens the moment the first DMail is sent no matter how many iterations back you try to look.
Kurisu's Importance in the Beta Worldline Attractor Field
One thing that gets emphasized is how Kurisu needs to survive to prevent WW3 in the beta worldline, but I don't think that's true, if my reasoning for the previous section is correct. The conditions that lead to WW3 are the following:
Time Travel Mechanics and Reading Steiner
At this point, it's common knowledge that there's only one universe, and there can only be one active worldline. This means there's no multiverse or meeting multiple future/past selves and grandfather paradox shenanigans. My understanding is that every time any time travel happens, be it through sending DMails, sending data, physical time travel or whatever, it causes a worldline change. Sometimes the change is so negligible (e.g. Okabe telling Daru about Faris's strategy in the Rai-Net tournament) that it's effectively the same worldline in every other way, and it doesn't trigger Reading Steiner which means Reading Steiner doesn't trigger in every worldline shift, only ones that are big enough that overwriting the new Okabe's memories would trigger it. Logically, this means there are worldline shifts that even Okabe won't detect, but for all intents and purposes, they're insignificant b/c the Okabe getting overwritten had the exact same (or close enough) memories as the Okabe doing the overwriting, and the worldlines are effectively the same.
But what about traveling to the future? Or when there are multiple instances of the same character from the future/past traveling to the same time. I think traveling to the future must be functionally the same as traveling to the past in causing worldline shifts. We know that worldline shifts must occur each time someone travels to the past so this means two instances of the same character traveling to the same time will never meet each other (e.g. no 3 Okabes on July 28th in 2010). Consider the scenario where Person A has time machine FG203 in the year 2036. Person A uses FG203 to go to 1975. Person A then uses FG203 to go back to 2036, exactly 1 minute before Person A leaves initially leaves for 1975. At this point, if traveling to the future doesn't cause a worldline shift, time paradoxes become possible. Therefore, any kind of time travel, to the past or the future, must cause a worldline shift. This is why Suzu and Daru are both concerned about Suzu time traveling to a point in time she's already time traveled to (e.g. Suzu and Mayuri traveling to 2010 for Operation Arclight). It could cause a significant enough worldline shift that introduces new variables and Butterfly Effects that make the Steins;Gate worldline unattainable. The reason I emphasize significant is b/c, as we've already conjectured, any kind of time travel causes a worldline shift, but not all worldline shifts are big enough to trigger Reading Steiner. You can still shift to a worldline that's only slightly different enough to be effectively the same.
Timing of Reading Steiner From Okabe's Perspective
We know that Okabe was ill as a kid which is heavily implied to be due to Reading Steiner activating from a worldline shift, possibly due to Suzuha traveling to 1999 to prevent Y2K. Reading Steiner also activates the moment Okabe sends the first DMail, as opposed to happening on the date it gets sent to in the past. This implies that it must always happen from the perspective of the Okabe from just before the worldline shifts. However, how exactly does the universe determine when exactly the worldline shifts from Okabe's perspective? Here's a thought experiment to illustrate what I mean:
S;G 0 Ending Timeline
Here's my understanding of the timeline.
submitted by RDCLder to steinsgate [link] [comments]
First DMail and Alpha/Beta Divergence
In S;G episode 1, sending the first DMail causes the worldline to shift from a beta worldline to an alpha one, but I still have some confusion about that. For the DMail to cause the shift, my understanding is that there must have been at least one iteration at the very beginning where Kurisu dies for real (not killed by future Okabe), Okabe somehow gets alerted to this (no future Okabe scream to catch his attention), so following sequence of event unfolds:
- Lecture on time travel happens, Kurisu meets up with her dad and dies for real (presumably killed by her dad)
- Okabe somehow stumbles upon Kurisu's body, goes outside and sends DMail to the past (b/c Daru was messing with the phone microwave)
- SERN saves the DMail in their database but don't necessarily check it and/or connect it to Okabe having a working time device right away. At this point, Kurisu's dad is on his way to Russia with Kurisu's paper on time travel
- Daru attends a talk on time travel (this is very important b/c it's the reason Suzu wants to go to 2010, so she can meet her dad)
- Some time passes and SERN does connect the DMail to Okabe's lab, raids it, steals the phone microwave, and uses it to develop the first time machine before Russia does (b/c SERN is the closest to having cracked time travel with the jellyman experiments), and takes over the world
- In the future, Daru develops an imperfect time machine (since SERN has full control over what's required to build a fully functional one). Daru is killed. Suzu is raised by her mom, has never met her dad but learns about him and Okabe. Suzu's mom is also killed, and Suzu joins the resistance at some point.
- Suzu is given the mission to travel to 1975 to acquire an IBN 5100 and make sure Okabe acquires it in 2010 so Daru can use it to decrypt the SERN database that stores the first DMail, and erase it so that SERN never takes the phone microwave.
- Suzu travels to 2010 b/c she knows her father attends a talk on time travel and wants to meet him. Due to the time machine being imperfect, her coordinates are off, and she crashes into the roof, thereby causing Kurisu's father's lecture on time travel to get cancelled. Kurisu is alive, and her paper on time travel is never stolen by her father.
- Suzu also doesn't meet her dad just because by traveling to the past, she's already shifted to a worldline where her Okabe prevents Daru from attending. Presumably she couldn't have predicted this outcome b/c of worldine shifts in general being unpredictable due to the Butterfly Effect.
- From this point on, in each subsequent worldline/iteration in the Alpha attractor field, Suzu always travels and crashes in 2010, Kurisu always survives and helps the FG lab build a time machine, Mayuri always dies (b/c the universe is cruel), and the future always leads to a SERN dystopia. S;G events unfold.
However, I feel like this is probably incorrect, and this may be one of those cases where Suzuha just always travels to the past, and there's no initial origin point where Kurisu dies, and her father steals her time travel paper. It just never happens the moment the first DMail is sent no matter how many iterations back you try to look.
Kurisu's Importance in the Beta Worldline Attractor Field
One thing that gets emphasized is how Kurisu needs to survive to prevent WW3 in the beta worldline, but I don't think that's true, if my reasoning for the previous section is correct. The conditions that lead to WW3 are the following:
- Kurisu's time travel theory is exposed to the public in some way (be it her father stealing it, someone using Amadeus to recreate it, or something else). This causes a global arms race to create a time machine which escalates into WW3.
- Okabe never sends the first DMail so SERN never acquires the phone microwave device from the FG lab.
Time Travel Mechanics and Reading Steiner
At this point, it's common knowledge that there's only one universe, and there can only be one active worldline. This means there's no multiverse or meeting multiple future/past selves and grandfather paradox shenanigans. My understanding is that every time any time travel happens, be it through sending DMails, sending data, physical time travel or whatever, it causes a worldline change. Sometimes the change is so negligible (e.g. Okabe telling Daru about Faris's strategy in the Rai-Net tournament) that it's effectively the same worldline in every other way, and it doesn't trigger Reading Steiner which means Reading Steiner doesn't trigger in every worldline shift, only ones that are big enough that overwriting the new Okabe's memories would trigger it. Logically, this means there are worldline shifts that even Okabe won't detect, but for all intents and purposes, they're insignificant b/c the Okabe getting overwritten had the exact same (or close enough) memories as the Okabe doing the overwriting, and the worldlines are effectively the same.
But what about traveling to the future? Or when there are multiple instances of the same character from the future/past traveling to the same time. I think traveling to the future must be functionally the same as traveling to the past in causing worldline shifts. We know that worldline shifts must occur each time someone travels to the past so this means two instances of the same character traveling to the same time will never meet each other (e.g. no 3 Okabes on July 28th in 2010). Consider the scenario where Person A has time machine FG203 in the year 2036. Person A uses FG203 to go to 1975. Person A then uses FG203 to go back to 2036, exactly 1 minute before Person A leaves initially leaves for 1975. At this point, if traveling to the future doesn't cause a worldline shift, time paradoxes become possible. Therefore, any kind of time travel, to the past or the future, must cause a worldline shift. This is why Suzu and Daru are both concerned about Suzu time traveling to a point in time she's already time traveled to (e.g. Suzu and Mayuri traveling to 2010 for Operation Arclight). It could cause a significant enough worldline shift that introduces new variables and Butterfly Effects that make the Steins;Gate worldline unattainable. The reason I emphasize significant is b/c, as we've already conjectured, any kind of time travel causes a worldline shift, but not all worldline shifts are big enough to trigger Reading Steiner. You can still shift to a worldline that's only slightly different enough to be effectively the same.
Timing of Reading Steiner From Okabe's Perspective
We know that Okabe was ill as a kid which is heavily implied to be due to Reading Steiner activating from a worldline shift, possibly due to Suzuha traveling to 1999 to prevent Y2K. Reading Steiner also activates the moment Okabe sends the first DMail, as opposed to happening on the date it gets sent to in the past. This implies that it must always happen from the perspective of the Okabe from just before the worldline shifts. However, how exactly does the universe determine when exactly the worldline shifts from Okabe's perspective? Here's a thought experiment to illustrate what I mean:
- The S;G worldline's future is somehow actually worse than both the Alpha and Beta worldlines. Okabe calls Suzu out of retirement for one last
jobjump. Suzu's mission is to go back to 1999 and prevent Okabe from developing his mad scientist persona, thereby preventing the events in S;G from happening. - Suzu travels from 2036 in the previous worldline (in which Okabe is still alive) to 1999 in a new worldline (in which Okabe is also alive). When does Reading Steiner activate from the perspective of Okabe? Does it happen in 2036 or 1999? Or does it happen in both? If it happens in both, would Okabe in 1999 only receive the memories of Okabe up until 1999 from the previous worldline? And, then separately, in 2036, assuming Okabe is also still alive, he would receive the full memories of the previous worldline, right?
S;G 0 Ending Timeline
Here's my understanding of the timeline.
- S;G 0 Okabe successfully thwarts the rooftop helicopter attacks, allowing Operation Arclight to be carried out.
- Suzu and Mayuri travel back to 2010 for Operation Arclight, only stay for the minute that other Suzu and Okabe are still in the past to avoid time paradox that would cause a worldline shift, run out of fuel and get stranded in 18000 BC.
- At this point, even if Mayuri slaps some sense into Okabe after his initial failure to save Kurisu, it doesn't do anything b/c we still don't have the plan for Operation Skuld figured out yet, or do we? I lean towards not yet b/c then the ending in 2025 doesn't make sense to me.
- Timeline proceeds as normal, leading to beta worldline where WW3 happens, but this time, having been reinvigorated by Mayuri's plea, Okabe spends the next 15 years figuring out all the details for Operation Skuld, realizing that you can "deceive" fate by faking Kurisu's death.
- The recording we see at the end of episode 23 followed by Okabe undergoing Operation Altair to rescue Suzu and Mayuri in 18000 BC is all actually the previous worldline just before episode 24 in the original S;G anime.
- Unclear where Suzu and Mayuri go to after this. Okabe 0 presumably stays behind to not risk overwriting present Okabe (or any point up until his death in 2025), though I don't know if the overwriting is that risky so much as just traveling to the future itself being risky since it can cause a significant worldline change. I touch on this more further below.
- More time passes, as Suzu has to grow up to become future soldier in 2036 (unless we can use Suzu that time traveled back from 18000 BC?) and carry out her missions to acquire an IBN 5100, use it to prevent Y2K in 1999 per the original John Titor timeline at the start of S;G episode 1, and convince Okabe to save Kurisu.
- This time, it's the final iteration which leads directly to episode 24 in the original S;G anime and everything needed to achieve the S;G worldline is present.
2023.03.20 23:07 StrictSuccess528 Shout out in my master’s thesis…
 | submitted by StrictSuccess528 to FallOutBoy [link] [comments] |
2023.03.20 23:06 RedeemedIAm Is there anyway to have minion icons in a set order or position at the top of the screen?
My build is highly dependent on always having my max amount of minions alive. I constantly have revenants or skeletal vanguards cycling in or out which means I’m never too sure who is alive by a quick glance while in combat.
Is there anyway to set things in a specific order or to lock in the positions? For example, my golem could always be first, then my mages, etc. etc.
This would allow me to look up, know exactly how many of what I have and spawn them accordingly. Hope I made sense with this! Thank you!
submitted by RedeemedIAm to LastEpoch [link] [comments]
Is there anyway to set things in a specific order or to lock in the positions? For example, my golem could always be first, then my mages, etc. etc.
This would allow me to look up, know exactly how many of what I have and spawn them accordingly. Hope I made sense with this! Thank you!
2023.03.20 23:06 CoffeeIntrepid Huge CPC difference between clicks vs conversion campaign, but same lookalike audience.
In Meta ads, I have a clicks and conversions campaign running simultaneously with a 3% LAL audience seeded by 90 day purchasers. The results are enormously different:
Clicks campaign: $0.19 CPC w/ 5.5% CTR (no conversions)
Conversion campaign: $4.40 CPC w/ 1.9% CTR (some conversions)
I understand that Meta will show ads differently to accomplish the goal - but how can the difference be so extreme with the same LAL audience? How can that audience have so many garbage clicks?
submitted by CoffeeIntrepid to PPC [link] [comments]
Clicks campaign: $0.19 CPC w/ 5.5% CTR (no conversions)
Conversion campaign: $4.40 CPC w/ 1.9% CTR (some conversions)
I understand that Meta will show ads differently to accomplish the goal - but how can the difference be so extreme with the same LAL audience? How can that audience have so many garbage clicks?
2023.03.20 23:06 Admirable-Abalone365 How to support a friend?
Hi everyone, I reconnected with a girl i went on a few dates back in 2021, but due to my severe CPTSD symptoms we stopped the contact, even though she wanted to help me go through that. I never wanted that, but it was really bad at the time and i just couldnt deal with emotions. I went full on on my healing journey after that, i had two psychotherapists specialized in trauma, i read a few books about PTSD and CPTSD, watched close to 100 online lectures about how trauma hijack our minds and bodies and as the result of that, i was able to heal 80% of my triggers and symptoms, if not even more. I am having an active lifestyle now, i dropped weed, actively training bjj which was a game changer, improved on most fields and expecting the promotion at my job. I changed my life for 180°. I am 40 years old and i have never felt so good about myself and life.
A few days ago, due to mutual friend leaving the country, we met again at the farewell party after almost 2 years. It was a bit emotional, but good and we agreed to recconect again as friends. The thing is, she is now the one struggling with anxiety and depression, is on medication and seeing the psychologist. Before it was mostly me who needed support from friends and i was never in position to support and help someone dealing with mental health issues. But, i want to help her and i am not sure how. She is also having avoidant attachment stule and I don't want to put pressure on her and push her away. She was the catalyst of my changes and i still care about her, i really want to be there for her and support her. Could i get some advices how to reach out to her without pushing her away and making her to shut down for me. Thank you in advance!
submitted by Admirable-Abalone365 to Anxiety [link] [comments]
A few days ago, due to mutual friend leaving the country, we met again at the farewell party after almost 2 years. It was a bit emotional, but good and we agreed to recconect again as friends. The thing is, she is now the one struggling with anxiety and depression, is on medication and seeing the psychologist. Before it was mostly me who needed support from friends and i was never in position to support and help someone dealing with mental health issues. But, i want to help her and i am not sure how. She is also having avoidant attachment stule and I don't want to put pressure on her and push her away. She was the catalyst of my changes and i still care about her, i really want to be there for her and support her. Could i get some advices how to reach out to her without pushing her away and making her to shut down for me. Thank you in advance!
2023.03.20 23:06 hngfff Which way should I do configuration policies?
I am in charge of getting our entire environment basically modernized. We have been onprem for however long and are finally switching to Intune and I have the go ahead to pretty much re do all our policies and get everything standardized. It's a blessing.
I've got intune up and running with my test machine and now I'm ready to create some configuration profiles and I'm trying to wrap my head around two ways to do this:
We are a local government with a lot of departments, and sub departments within each department. Let's say we have an Administration, IT, Probation, and Fire department for example sake.
Then I would have a configuration for example the IT department - what everyone in an IT department would generally need. Perhaps certain tools, mmc shortcut, etc.
Then finally for Systems, it would be customized to tools we use, so shortcuts like Hyper-v or VMWare shortcuts, ssh software, etc.
I would target every device for a CountyWide configuration, then target anyone in the IT department OU or create a dynamic group that has anyone with the 'department' as IT would get that configuration, then get a list of all job titles that contain Systems or something like that to filter for each Systems user.
I would go through and do this for every department and sub department.
The reason that seems like it might not work as well, is if we had a huge policy change county-wide, like instead of a minimum 8 character password they pass a rule that it's now 10 characters, I'd have to go into each policy and change each one individually. Which leads me to my next option...
I'm not a huge fan of this idea, because sometimes every department needs their own stuff sometimes. However, this may work since we are standardizing across the board. I have played with the thought of doing something like that along with each job title configuration, but then again it can get pretty wild.
I read an article on the best practices for intune development and configuration profiles and I think Option 1 might work the best, but this is such a huge undertaking and I want to make sure I get the theoretical part down before I start hammering away at these policies.
I've also read if you setup Intune in an incorrect way, it can really slow down the system because of how many policies you need to have syncing and applying. That's why Option 3 doesn't seem efficient, it seems like it would get super cluttered.
Thanks for anyone's inputs!
submitted by hngfff to Intune [link] [comments]
I've got intune up and running with my test machine and now I'm ready to create some configuration profiles and I'm trying to wrap my head around two ways to do this:
We are a local government with a lot of departments, and sub departments within each department. Let's say we have an Administration, IT, Probation, and Fire department for example sake.
Option 1:
The first option is to create almost like a Tree type infrastructure:- Countywide Configuration profile
- Administration
- HR
- Finance
- IT
- Systems
- Help Desk
- Networks
- Desktop Technicians
- Probation
- Supervisors
- Probation Officer
- Administrative Assistant
- Fire
- Fire Staff
- Engineer
- Administrative Assistant
- Administration
Then I would have a configuration for example the IT department - what everyone in an IT department would generally need. Perhaps certain tools, mmc shortcut, etc.
Then finally for Systems, it would be customized to tools we use, so shortcuts like Hyper-v or VMWare shortcuts, ssh software, etc.
I would target every device for a CountyWide configuration, then target anyone in the IT department OU or create a dynamic group that has anyone with the 'department' as IT would get that configuration, then get a list of all job titles that contain Systems or something like that to filter for each Systems user.
I would go through and do this for every department and sub department.
Option 2:
It's similar to Option 1, but instead of nested trees, I would just have a Systems configuration profile, a Networks profile, etc. Each of these would include everything that the Countywide configuration profile, but just built into that policy.The reason that seems like it might not work as well, is if we had a huge policy change county-wide, like instead of a minimum 8 character password they pass a rule that it's now 10 characters, I'd have to go into each policy and change each one individually. Which leads me to my next option...
Option 3:
Create section-based policies. Something like a OneDrive Configuration which can configure desktop configurations, etc. Then something maybe like a Password configuration which configures passwords. Maybe Edge configuration policy to manage just Edge.I'm not a huge fan of this idea, because sometimes every department needs their own stuff sometimes. However, this may work since we are standardizing across the board. I have played with the thought of doing something like that along with each job title configuration, but then again it can get pretty wild.
I read an article on the best practices for intune development and configuration profiles and I think Option 1 might work the best, but this is such a huge undertaking and I want to make sure I get the theoretical part down before I start hammering away at these policies.
I've also read if you setup Intune in an incorrect way, it can really slow down the system because of how many policies you need to have syncing and applying. That's why Option 3 doesn't seem efficient, it seems like it would get super cluttered.
Thanks for anyone's inputs!
2023.03.20 23:06 Koxen_ can I get banned if I only install my backups?
I have many switch cartridges and I want to intall them in my sd card. can I still get updates if a game is patched or play online say like playing splatoon 3. I just want to make sure how easy is to get banned if I only do that.
submitted by Koxen_ to SwitchHomebrew [link] [comments]
2023.03.20 23:05 charlatanous Rename Charisma to Conviction
This is my own personal head canon, but what do you guys think? Have other alternatives?
The charisma skills seem to be about "are you believable?"
The charisma saves seem to be about "do you believe in yourself enough?" (I'm thinking banishment, dispel evil, magic circle, planar binding, plane shift, zone of truth)
The problem I'm trying to solve is this. I've seen so many people ask "how hot is your character" and expect to hear the answer related to their charisma score. Or in reverse, they see the charisma score and they'll say "oh you're sexy/ugly" depending. It seems like many people consider "charisma" to be a descriptor of a physical attribute, while I consider it to be more of a mental or emotional attribute more closely linked to intelligence and wisdom than to how you physically appear.
Of course, the change isn't necessary by any means. It doesn't take long to explain to people what the word Charisma means in the dnd context. I feel like Conviction might be more evocative of the mechanics and function without an explanation though.
submitted by charlatanous to DnD [link] [comments]
The charisma skills seem to be about "are you believable?"
The charisma saves seem to be about "do you believe in yourself enough?" (I'm thinking banishment, dispel evil, magic circle, planar binding, plane shift, zone of truth)
The problem I'm trying to solve is this. I've seen so many people ask "how hot is your character" and expect to hear the answer related to their charisma score. Or in reverse, they see the charisma score and they'll say "oh you're sexy/ugly" depending. It seems like many people consider "charisma" to be a descriptor of a physical attribute, while I consider it to be more of a mental or emotional attribute more closely linked to intelligence and wisdom than to how you physically appear.
Of course, the change isn't necessary by any means. It doesn't take long to explain to people what the word Charisma means in the dnd context. I feel like Conviction might be more evocative of the mechanics and function without an explanation though.
2023.03.20 23:05 gabiande Am I normal to be annoyed by my friend's comment?
My fiance (27M) and I (27F) have been together for 7 years. We met in college in the U.S. but he was from Korea. As a Korean male, he has to serve in the military for ~18 months, and he is leaving next month. This will be the first time that we will be in long distance and tbh I'm quite terrified of not being able to be with him and also living alone for the next ~18 months. People in our friend group know this and many have reached out to me which was really nice of them. Anyway, a couple days ago, two of our friends from the same friend group FaceTime'd my fiance to ask some questions about a car they're planning to purchase since my fiance just bought the same car recently. They are a couple and we'll call them Brad and Anna. Brad and Anna moved to another state last year so we haven't seen them for a while. I also have not been in touch with them for a while. When I heard them talking to my fiance, I went upstairs to say hi. As soon as Brad saw me, he said, "hey, gabiande! Guess what? We'll be doing a backpacking trip in Europe this summer! Then we're going to China and Japan next, all while Josh (my fiance) is in the military!" ??? I was so taken aback by what he just said, I didn't know how to respond for a second. I told them that it's nice they get to take some time off work and I wish them a wonderful time. Then I excused myself and left. His comment has been on my mind since. It was such an odd thing to say to someone the first time you see/talk to in a while. I couldn't understand why he felt the need to "brag" about their travel plans while mentioning the military thing. I can't help but feel that he's trying to make me feel bad about the situation that my fiance and I are in. My fiance said he thinks it's pretty inconsiderate of Brad to say something like that, but he also thinks that I'm overthinking it. He's right, I know I shouldn't let Brad's comment bother me, but I'm still pretty annoyed by it. I guess I just wanted to rant and see if it's normal for me to feel this way. Thanks for reading.
submitted by gabiande to offmychest [link] [comments]
2023.03.20 23:05 Curious13l (20M) Curious about experimenting with a guy
Hi,
So, as the title suggests, I’m a 20 year-old guy living in the UK, who is interested in experimenting with another guy. I should specify that I am a virgin, and consider myself to be on the Ace spectrum, as I have never felt genuine attraction to another person (certainly not romantic attraction). I have never dated or been intimate with another person, so I have zero experience in this department.
That being said, I have questioned my sexuality for years, specifically being gay, as I watch gay porn and browse gay subreddits often. However, outside of that, I have never been interested in a guy in my personal life. I find myself in a dilemma: I am curious about experimenting with my sexuality, do not have any interest in dating, but do not feel safe just hooking up with a guy on Grindr.
The ideal situation for me would be something akin to a ‘friends with benefits’ scenario, wherein I can befriend a guy and be upfront about my desire to experiment, with him being comfortable with the idea, and not expecting a romantic relationship to develop. I’m well aware this is wishful thinking, and the chances of it happening are slim.
I would appreciate advice from anyone who could offer some guidance as to how I can safely approach acting on my sexual curiosity.
Many thanks.
submitted by Curious13l to askgaybros [link] [comments]
So, as the title suggests, I’m a 20 year-old guy living in the UK, who is interested in experimenting with another guy. I should specify that I am a virgin, and consider myself to be on the Ace spectrum, as I have never felt genuine attraction to another person (certainly not romantic attraction). I have never dated or been intimate with another person, so I have zero experience in this department.
That being said, I have questioned my sexuality for years, specifically being gay, as I watch gay porn and browse gay subreddits often. However, outside of that, I have never been interested in a guy in my personal life. I find myself in a dilemma: I am curious about experimenting with my sexuality, do not have any interest in dating, but do not feel safe just hooking up with a guy on Grindr.
The ideal situation for me would be something akin to a ‘friends with benefits’ scenario, wherein I can befriend a guy and be upfront about my desire to experiment, with him being comfortable with the idea, and not expecting a romantic relationship to develop. I’m well aware this is wishful thinking, and the chances of it happening are slim.
I would appreciate advice from anyone who could offer some guidance as to how I can safely approach acting on my sexual curiosity.
Many thanks.