Chinese seafood buffet near me

I'm a 25M, 5' 8", 205lb. Current numbers are:

• Squat: 315
• Bench: 265
• Deadlift: 405
• 1 Mile: 7:00
• 5 Mile: 40:00
• Pushups: 70
• Pull-ups: 16

My goals (time frame is 2 years+) are :

• Bench: 315
• Squat: 405
• Deadlift: 500
• 1 Mile : 6:00
• 5 Mile : 35:00
• Pushups: 100
• Pull-ups: 25

​
I have previously hit these squat and deadlift goal numbers before (at 185lb) but i did not have the conditioning I have now.
I'm looking for a program that would, in the long term, help me achieve these goals while also introducing swimming and rucking into the mix. I am not training for a specific selection at the moment. I'm a student on contract work and wont have the ability to pursue anything in specific for at least 4 years. I am interested in AFSPECWAR but it'll be a few years until this can happen.
I read Green Protocol but in my opinion, at least for my current goals, there isn't nearly enough lifting. Its also not clear to me how I can balance running with swimming and rucking.
I've looked at the PJ sub-reddit for programs, and some seem to follow an AM/PM training schedule where AM sessions are 3 days of swimming, 3 days of running, and 1 day of rucking, and PM sessions consist of 4 days of lifting and "active recovery". While interesting, I am a bit attracted to the tactical barbell ideas and would like to see if there's any room for one of the programs to be tailored to my goals.
Thanks.

My girlfriend and I have our anniversary coming up (16th of june), and I wanted to take her out to an escape room, followed by a nice dinner. The original plan was for me to stay over at her place, since I don't live near to where she lives.
There were no plans made yet to stay an entire weekend, and it was not really implied either. So I asked my gf about the day after the anniversary, and if it was okay that I went to my friend's birthday party (who has been very supportive to me over my personal situation, which involves a direct family member being diagnosed with cancer) at the end of that day.
She tells me to do whatever I want, while my intention was to just inquire what her plans were, if it was to spend the weekend with me, I'd choose that over my best friend's birthday anytime.
​
Any advice in this situation? I really just meant to inquire...

Pretty self explanatory but I'll give you a little context. My parents are super controlling, overbearing, and dont have their own lives - they work, dont have any friends, and come home and basically shout at me as their hobby. My mum hates me, she tries to compete with me and belittle me at the same time. We live in a silent house - I basically have to live like a little mouse at home, I don't think I've even ever played music out loud. They dont know anything about me - I keep it all private - my friends, boyfriends, hobbies etc because I can't deal with the ridicule...They don't know that I've been to concerts, worked at events, been to festivals, go out with my friends etc...they know nothing at all. they dont deserve to know.
Anyway...
At 18 I went to university for four years, where I obviously moved out and had the most amazing time - started counselling and basically realised/unpacked that i have a ton of childhood trauma brought on by my parents emotional abuse. Turns out im not immature or socially anxious - im actually super extroverted and sociable, I have tons of friends now and find it super easy to be independent. It was just being subjected to emotional abuse that made me act that way.
I graduated and then decided to do a master's because i got a scholarshp and it would mean i could afford to move out from my parents home again. Well...now ive nearly finished my masters (woohoo!), and I haven't managed to find a job in time so that I could rent my own place. Every single day I dread going back home (I move back in around a month). Has anyone been in this position? I don't even have my own bedroom at home...I'm going to be giving up all my newfound confidence, independence, hobbies etc because its the only way i can live with my parents, who infantilise me (im 23) and ridicule me at every opportunity. even something as simple as cooking for myself at home leads to my parents mocking me (we didnt know you could even do that!) infantilising me (taking over and saying im doing it wrong) or guilt tripping me (do you not like the food we cook? we go to work all day and go grocery shopping and you won't eat my cooking?)
​
im just so stuck..im so worried moving home will cause me to regress...does anyone have any tips or advice for trying to be independent when your parents are super controlling and overbearing?

This is going to be a long one cause I just have to let everything out.
Once I moved schools I’ve become friends with this girl(let’s call her Katie) in my class. The first red flag and something that should’ve made me rethink me being becoming closer with her was the fact that she didn’t look happy when she saw me or wanted to hug me once we met (we had been texting before we saw each other). She then told me that she thought I was kinda weird.
It was going okay but I quickly realized that she was, first of all, not a girls girl and bad mouthed another girl from our class on the FIRST day we met! Katie showed me a pic of this girl with no makeup and laughed. She also called another girl shallow and was making fun of her for no reason. When she broke up with her terrible bf that was when she told the stuff he would say about me. AFTER everything has happened. He would say I dress weird or ask her if I’m not SOME lesbian(he did use slurs but yk) (ofc I couldn’t care less about being called gay and it didn’t offend me BUT the tone and wording that he used had the purpose of it being offensive)and call me Chinese - even though I’m literally white-which also resulted in him making racists comments. Why would you be in a relationship with someone who offends your friend on daily basis? More importantly why would you be with someone who’s racist and homophobic? Makes me think you’re just the same.
One time when we had P.E. class and I didn’t participate because of my health issues (I have a sick note) I was drinking these juices for kids she looked at me and asked ,,Maybe you should move around a little,huh?” which to I replied that maybe I shouldn’t hence my literal health problems??? Why would she even say that in the first place? Each time I arrive to the classroom she looks me up and down and doesn’t saying anything then continues to stare at me for the whole period.
She said she doesn’t hang around boys yet I’ve never seen her surrounded by girls. Katie said that at a recent party she only hung out with boys and didn’t say a word to the girls because that’s just how it turned out. The constant sh*t talking about girls but then claiming she loves being a woman and all that is just ridiculous. I just know she says all these things about me too. And she always has so much to say to Max but never picks up a conversation with me. She never asks me anything and just sits in silence.
Anyways there’s SO much more to it and maybe I’m the crazy one for thinking that she’s a bad friend. I’m scared that if I try to drop her ass she’ll make me look like the villain and turn ppl against me. Recently I’ve become more distant towards her and I don’t even try to make conversations with her anymore because it’s just pointless. I’ve become friends with ppl who actually care about me but whenever Katie is around I wanna leave the school building and never come back

Calebs first job was in town at the Golden Age Movie Theater. Most of the time his job consisted of getting people their change when they bought their tickets, popcorn, drinks and more, however it also involved cleaning the bathrooms. It wasn't a great job, but for someone who didn't have bills to pay, it paid very well.
There was a lot of free time to do his homework and read while at work, and when he was finished Caleb would play one of the many arcade games the owner brought in over the years to attract more customers.
The owner, Edwin Noble, was a cheap man, but he did right by Caleb. After all, Gray Hill was not booming with people willing to work at those prices, so it was best not to do wrong to the people who were willing to come in early and stay late.
When Caleb started working there, Jurassic Park was playing even though it had been out of the theaters for four months because renting the reels late was a way to save money.
During Caleb's sophomore year in highschool, Edwin Noble put up a closed sign in the windows. Caleb feared that the business had died. However when he approached Mister Noble it was revealed that the theater was only closed for renovations.
“We need a gimmick, Caleb,” mister Noble said as he looked over a pile of bills while sitting at his desk. “When I was a kid, theaters had all sorts of things that kept people coming back. Are you familiar with The Shocker? It was a Vincent Price movie and theaters all over the country had random chairs set up to shake at certain parts of the movie. It was a real blast to see people jump and scream as if the movie was coming off the screen.”
“That sounds awesome,” Caleb replied, smiling.
“I think so too. If that won’t fill those empty seats I don't know what will.”
Before the school year ended, the theater opened up and Caleb got to be the first to experience what the new renovations had to offer. The movie he watched was Alien and it was exactly like mister Noble said. The seats not only shook, but when the alien first burst out of the man's chest and ran off, a device under the seat made Caleb feel something run by his feet. Later in the movie, hidden tubes in the headrest blew out air giving the illusion that the Xenomorph was breathing down his neck.
“What did you think?” mister Noble asked with a wide grin once the film was over.
“That was great,” Caleb answered honestly. “Will all the movies here be like that?”
“I plan on it.”
Having Caleb's stamp of approval, mister Noble put an ad in the local newspaper, claiming a once in a lifetime opportunity for all who showed up at the official reopening of the theater.
While this attracted more people to come in and buy tickets, it wasn't anything like Edwin wished it would be. Even though mister Noble tried to hide the fact that his business wasn’t doing well, Caleb could see him struggling with the reality that unless something changed drastically, he would not be able to keep the business running.
The change from being fun and happy, to bitter was subtle, but Caleb saw Edwin everyday and could see the slow metamorphosis. All the stress over the years made him look like he was sick. While he used to have a small gut, he became rail thin and pale. Caleb wondered if he starved himself to save money for his failing business.
After months of hearing his boss rant about ‘the good ole days’ and how they are never coming back, Edwin Noble closed the theater so it could go under even more changes. Caleb knew that his boss was barely treading water and was afraid that with all the money he was putting into the theater he was going to sink.
Caleb never shared these thoughts with anyone but his parents when they asked him how work went.The new updates were not as big as the last but mister Noble was convinced that they would make all the difference. When he spoke about the changes to Caleb, he never gave too much away because he wanted it to be a secret. Caleb didn't mind this because it was the first time in a long while that mister Noble seemed to be genuinely happy.
“Caleb, my boy” mister Noble would say. “When everything is set up, anyone who comes here will have their lives changed forever.”
When mister Noble reopened the theater he went all out on the fanfare. Not just taking out an ad in the newspaper, he had bought spotlights to light up the sky “just like they used to have during the golden age of Hollywood.”
No one knew what kind of movie was going to be playing for the grand reopening and when asked, mister Noble was very tight lipped about it, even to Caleb.
While the mystery of what the movie was going to be was intriguing, Caleb wanted to know what the updates were. On the day of the reopening he didn't have much time to snoop around and look because mister Noble wanted him behind the counter, waiting for any would-be customer. However he did manage to take a peek inside but the only difference he noticed was the speakers on the walls.
The movie was supposed to start at eight, but did not start until closer to nine because mister Noble wanted to wait just in case more people showed up. The only reason it started at all was because a few people started to get up to leave the theater.
When the movie started, mister Noble locked the doors and told Caleb to follow him up to the room with the projector. Caleb asked why he would lock the door and the answer he got was “When Alfred Hitchcock released Psycho, he wanted every theater to lock the doors the moment the movie started so no one would miss a single second.”
As Caleb watched his boss prepare the film, he noticed how excited he was. The anticipation and enjoyment of showing this mysterious film completely offset the fact that the turnout was less than either of them expected.
The film mister Noble wanted to show the town was an independent film called “The Toilet Worm”.Caleb didn't mind independent or B-horror films, but this one was terrible. Thankfully the movie was just under fifteen minutes.
The plot of the movie seemed pretty straightforward: A man was eating at a buffet and his stomach was upset so he ran off to find the bathroom. As soon as the man on the screen found the toilet, he pulled off his pants and sat down.
After a few long disgusting moments of the man straining, a monster worm crawled up from the pipes and slithered its way into the man's anus and started eating him from the inside out.The audience didn't make a sound as this happened, and Caleb figured that they were all sitting in stunned silence like he was.
Immediately after the man stopped screaming and his head fell to the side, the credits started rolling. mister Noble hopped up and down, giggling like a child as he clapped his hands.
“What do you think?” asked mister Noble.
“I—” Caleb started, not knowing what he could say to this. He expected everyone there would ask for a refund because of the low quality of the film they just witnessed as well as its short runtime. If he told his boss this it might hurt his feelings and he was too nice of a kid to do that. Before he could come up with an answer mister Noble started walking out the projectionist room and down the stairs.
“Come on, Caleb” he called out over his shoulder. “We got to clean up before the next showing.”
Caleb did as he was told and followed mister Noble into the theater after turning on the lights. The audience didn't move an inch.
“Grab the legs” mister Noble said as he pulled a large man out of his seat, sending him collapsing between the seat he was in and the row in front of him.
It was then that Caleb saw that the man was bleeding. Almost as if he was—
The smell of blood filled Caleb’s nose and he fell to one knee as he felt his supper making its way up. As he threw up he noticed that under the seats was what looked to be long sharp swords aiming straight up.
“Are you going to help me or not?” mister Noble asked as he struggled to pull the man into the aisle.
Realization came over Caleb and all color left his face. He wanted to run. Wanted to tell the police that his boss just killed six people by having knives come up from under the seats.
He was just about to take off and alert the authorities, but then mister Noble hissed “If you don't help me right now, I’ll test the next movie on you.”
“What's the next movie?” Caleb asked.
Mister Noble smiled wickedly. “Scanners.”
WAE

This happened in Sweden about 40 years ago, and even if my memories may be a bit hazy, the gist of the story is absolutely true even if the details are a bit off.
I had bought an old clunker of a car to get to my new job. And when I say clunker, that is being nice. It was mainly held together by gaffa tape, and it cost me a whopping $100. Kind of temporary, until I got my first pay check.
On my way home, one of the few police cars in my small town (~25k) pulled me over, which was indeed understandable as it was around midnight and the car being what it was. But it was actually roadworthy, and their issue was with the road tax.
They said it was unpaid, and that it was illegal to drive the car. However, they knew who I was, because my dad was the district court judge, so they allowed me to drive home while following me (so I’d actually go home, I guess). I complied, of course.
When I parked outside our house, they said they had to take the plates off the car, and that I could pay the tax the next day, go to the station, show the receipt and get the plates back. Fine, I said. They started rummaging in the trunk of their car, and discovered someone had pilfered their toolbox.
I offered them to take the keys instead, but nah. They asked if I had a screwdriver in my car, and I said no (had just bought it). I started to talk about other options, but the boss cop told me to just go sit in the car and stay quiet. Not another word from you, little missy lind of attitude. I complied. Of course.
I was just about to say I could fetch a screwdriver from the tool shed, but they weren’t interested in that - I do think they were worried that I’d wake the judge. Oh horror. Or not. So they opted to call the one other car they had roaming the town that night - a K-9 unit. And that got noisy. We lived near the park, so of course those cops figured it was an opportunity to let the dogs stretch their legs. Sigh.
Well … I obeyed orders. Sat there. Was quiet. They were not. First my father came out in his robe and slippers, looking slightly frazzled and confused. Not exactly someone to be afraid of. But I just sat there, as instructed. Because I knew what would come next. My mother.
WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH MY DAUGHTER!?!?
Well. It went downhill from there. Don’t think my dad said a word, but my mom certainly ripped them a new one (and got kind of famous on our street the next few days).
Could have been a very quiet and nice interaction here, but well, they wanted to make a big deal about the missing tax payment, so a big deal they got. For 10 cents (simple typo).

a rant for all the homos lol
this one in particular - i’m actually in love but it’s forbidden. we lived together for 2 years. him and his wife, me and my boyfriend. he and my bf worked together in the army. he was super goofy and you could definitely tell he grew up around boys and was wild. he constantly would be naked around the household. he was beautiful……. soft skin, no acne, pretty eyes, nice hair, 5’10, beautiful ass, and the dick…. omg perfect. perfect color, perfect head, perfect balls…
his wife was very nonchalant about the whole thing. my bf would get a bit mad but he would just completely ignore him. the husband would playfully flirt with me, or cuddle with me, compliment me if i looked good. sometime i would walk around in my skimpy underwear and he was like take it off, let me see dat booty. lol we also made out and touched tips LOL my bf was not amused or happy.
anyways…. it’s forbidden. he loves his wife. i’m not even sure if he ever even had attraction towards me or was he just being curious. i dream about him so much and when we text or i see a picture of him, i’m like swoon.
if him and i were to hang out alone, fucked up, i probably would embarrass myself lol but he wants to come visit alone… it’s been nearly 5 years since i’ve seen him.
double edged sword. fun to play with the straight guys, heartbroken when nothing will come of it. been going through it my whole life sigh

Good Morning,
Recently, the management of Reddit has announced planed changes that will affect the operation of third-party apps that many users use to browse, post, and moderate Reddit. Starting on July 1st, Reddit will begin charging third-party app services to access Reddit. While charging for this access may seem like a reasonable action, the planned rates will not be realistic for these services to pay. Due to the amount of traffic, popular services such as Apollo or Reddit is Fun would need to pay nearly $20,000,000 per year. These third-party services do not generate nearly enough enough revenue to pay these fees.
Starting July 1st, these third-party services will not be able to remain operational. They have shutdowns planned because they will not be able to pay the aforementioned fees.
As a moderator, I prefer to use Reddit is Fun over the official Reddit app because of the expanded features that allow me to do both browsing and moderation more efficiently without needing to rely on a desktop computer.
Here in Escanaba and Delta County, we are experiencing a leadership dilemma where the public's opinion and best interests have not been prioritized. This is an opportunity for we as a community to consider making a decision that reflects our interests and be an example for our IRL leaders. Many subreddits will be participating in a "blackout" protest (restricting access to the subreddit so visitors do not see any content thereby reducing Reddit's traffic). I am proposing that this community also participate in this blackout protest. The blackout would remain in effect until Reddit cancels or significantly modifies its API pricing structure to allow third-party services to remain operational.
There is a poll attached to this post that will be open until 11:59PM EST on Sunday, June 11th. Immediately after the closing of this poll, the Escanaba subreddit will blackout if the YES votes outnumber the NO votes. Supporting sources are linked below. Civil debate and discussion in the comments is encouraged.
Thank You.
SOURCES:

• What is an API? Five minute explination. (https://youtu.be/ByGJQzlzxQg)
• Reddit Admin u/FlyingLaserTurtle posts information on the upcoming pricing tiers. (https://redd.it/13wsiks)
• Reddit Admin u/lift_ticket83 posts an update addressing frequent questions and information on updates to the official Reddit mobile app. (https://redd.it/141oqn8)
• Reddit Admin u/pl00h posts an update defining the free access tier, academic use, and mature content. (https://redd.it/13wshdp)
• Reddit Founder and CEO u/spez hosts an AMA (Ask Me Anything) on Reddit to address the community and their concerns. (https://redd.it/145bram)
• An open response to the CEO's AMA by ModCoord moderator u/Femilip. (https://redd.it/145l7wp)
• Apollo app developer u/iamthatis announces a planned shutdown of the Apollo mobile app. (https://redd.it/144f6xm)
• Reddit is Fun developer u/talklittle announces a planned shutdown of the Reddit is Fun mobile app. (https://redd.it/144gmfq)

View Poll

When purchasing my home in 2021, the lawyer failed to explain any obligations to maintain any common property. However, a limited liability company soon started sending me invoices to maintain garden grounds which are not part of my property and are dispersed in the vicinity of more than 700 surrounding properties. My home is one of 4 units within a single building, so it shares some walls and structural elements with 3 other units.
The “administration company” convenes sham condominium meetings each January, attended by about 5% of owners (mainly elderly, retired people) in the village of more than 700 properties. The same questions are asked every year, and every year they say that they will provide answers “next year” (but never do).
Upon doing my own research, I have discovered that 6 different condominiums are legally registered (each between 56 and 108 property units) within the village of more than 700 property units. However, the entire village is “managed” by the same limited liability company which invoices all homeowners for its operating costs of nearly 1 million euros per year.
That company mainly operates as a tourist rental business, but it also cuts grass of land located between the condominiums (which it claims to own). The 6 legally registered condominiums do not include any open land, only the buildings. The company which invoices owners nearly 1 million euros per year to cut its own grass does nothing to maintain any of the condominium property. Owners of each property unit are told that it’s their own responsibility to paint the outside of their own walls, even if those walls are shared with other owners.
Despite the above, the company claims that 95% of homeowners are perfectly happy to pay its invoices. I suspect that most homeowners just don’t think about how their money is used or whether they are obliged to pay this company for cutting its own grass.
My home is in a tourist area of the Algarve in Portugal. Most of the owners don’t live here; rather, they are mostly middle-class, busily-working Lisbonites who have inherited their properties from their parents. Most properties are used as holiday homes and/or for leasing to tourists during the summer.
Portugal doesn’t have such complex legislation as North America for HOAs and most owners have no clue about what they are paying for or whether they have any obligation to pay it.

I hate that this sub makes you pick a label. "Friends" I guess? Heh. "Exes" doesn't work, and you never loved me.
A lot of this is my fault. I knowingly have been the other woman in your relationships. Maybe it's made you lose all respect for me. I guess I don't have any for myself to begin with. I've never been able to really let you go mentally these past 12 or so years since I first had a crush on you in middle school.
Everyone gets compared to you in my head even if I love them more at a given time. Even if I do it's always temporary and in an attempt to move on from you.
It's been about 3 weeks since you ghosted me.
I wish I could go back and check our old messages, because I thought you said we would stay friends no matter what after the last time you cut me off. Even then, you at least gave me warning instead of just going dark on multiple lines of communication.
This is all at a time where I'm really struggling in other ways too. I'm living on a credit line and not making money right now due to issues with my job transfer. I just moved to get away from a guy who got close to raping me multiple times and gaslit me into thinking I committed a crime among other things while I was dating him. I have few real social connections. I cut off my entire immediate family since they have never seriously acknowledged that the horror film of a life they put me through was wrong. I feel so fucking alone and paranoid a lot of the time.
I worry that you ghosted me without explanation to hurt me on purpose. I apologized for whatever it is I did and wished you the best. I don't think I have enough resources to cope at all. I've been thinking a lot about suicide. I can't tell you about it because I don't want to guilt you into talking to me.
I don't know what to do. All the psychiatric system has done is make me worse, give me improper medical care, abuse and humiliate me, commit heinous and often illegal violations against me and others around me. I don't have it in me to sue. They also purposely make it hard by preventing you from recording anything, making it hard to communicate with your family, and preventing you from networking with other people going through their abuse. I've tried to find therapists who stand against the system but I can't find any and don't have the money or energy to keep trying.
Some people were just not meant to make it. I wish I had just been aborted or my previous attempts would have worked. Not many people give a fuck about anything I or people like me went or go through. All they do is mock when they have never been through the ringer. Even normal people get fucked up by it. People use 911/988/ the system to ruin others' lives with a 5150 psych stay. No evidence is even required for those in practice. You just get arrested. I wish everyone who justified them would be forced to go through it at their lowest point.
Good bye. This is completely devastating for me, which I am sure you know, but I can't and shouldn't tell you. I am nearly at the end of my rope.

Heads up! This story is both unpolished and unfinished, and posted here only for the sake of not letting my work go entirely to waste. If you want to continue the story yourself, feel free to do so.
Credit for The Nature of Predators goes to u/spacepaladin15.
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Memory Transcription Subject: Rania, Gojid Civilian
Date [Standardized Human Time]: Error 560 (estimated date: September, 2136)
At first, we assumed it to be an Arxur weapon, but we had plenty of time to get a more detailed look at the object intersecting our FTL trajectory. A mass of energy, far more than a star could emit, yet giving off no light. Gravitational pull was intense, but completely wrong for a black hole. Maybe the remains of a massive warp core accident? Whatever it was, it was directly in our path.
We had ample time before our collision, and nothing we could do. Our course was set, and escape vessels couldn’t be launched during an FTL jump. All that was left was to wait, and pray for a mercifully quick death that we all knew was unlikely. We built our starships to withstand direct assault from Arxur warships. Our deaths would be both inevitable and slow.
I was away from the refugee’s quarters, on the bridge. I couldn’t bear to watch pups cry in terror, as their parents tried hopelessly to ease their fear. The bridge was only marginally better. Some of the crew were facing their imminent death with stoicism. Many were praying. Many were crying. I don’t remember what I was doing when it hit, but I was probably crying too.
Then… then…
Pain, agonizing and blinding pain. No screaming. No noise at all. Silence, darkness, death.
Movement. But I couldn’t possibly move myself. Was I carried?
​
My first coherent memories started taking shape next to a fire. I couldn’t see, but the warmth and crackling were unmistakable. I tried to move, only to find myself unmoving. Was I in the wreckage of the ship? I felt no pain. Was I already dead?
“Hey, look who’s finally back in the land of the living. Can you hear me?”
A human. The species that started this whole mess. That attacked our cradle, let the Arxur find an easy target. That taunted us with their “Evacuation” cattle roundups. The disgusting mockery of a voice washed over me, tainting my very soul.
That fire must be to roast my flesh. Does it want my fear, before it kills me? It won’t get a single goddamn word, not so much as a noise.
“You… damn, he must still be out of it. Maybe another stimpak..?”
Cli-hsssss. A stabbing pain in my arm, followed by… relief? My arm twitched slightly, but I couldn’t manage anything more. A rushing sound filled my ears, overpowering the growl on my left until it bore me away to unconsciousness.
—
I woke up on a bed, staring at what must’ve been the ceiling, though all I could see was vague rust-brown shapes in the distance. My body still refused to move. And yet still, somehow, so little pain. Was my nervous system destroyed?
No. Hunger. Brutal, snarling hunger stabbed through my stomach like a dagger. I made a weak noise, remembered where I was, and rapidly forced silence. If it knows I’m awake, it’ll torture me until it lets me die…
“Oh! You— you’re awake again! Can you hear me?”
Don’t make a noise. It might lose interest.
“...No. Dammit. It’s going to starve if it doesn’t fully wake up soon… I can’t afford all these meds for much longer anyway. I’ll just have to… leave this here for it. Maybe it’ll wake again while I’m out.”
And just like that, a rush of movement and it was gone. It worked! I lived… I lived, just so I could starve…
​
By the graces of the protector. Food. I could smell food, just inches to my right. Can I move to pick it up? Can I move my jaw to eat?
Is it a trap? The human must be trying to fatten me up. Or maybe it didn’t leave at all, and is just waiting in the shadows to see if I take the bait. Or… maybe…
Fuck it. I was already good as dead, I could at least die full. I tried moving my arm, but to no avail. My other arm was no better. Maybe I could move my head?
The world shifted around me, a nauseating whirl of muted colors. But that meant my head could move. I could move… the food was still just barely out of reach. I can almost taste it… it’s so close to my nose…
I let out a weak cry of frustration. I couldn’t help myself. Did the human intend for this torture? The frustration became rage, filling my body like a white-hot star until I—
Trembling, my claw grasped the food. Rage and hunger animated my arm, pushing it forward. Whatever this was, it was soft. It smelled heavenly. I brought it up to my face. My vision was just recovered enough to make out its form; a strayu-like pillow drizzled with a sweet glaze. I tore into it like an animal, barely even tasting. I must not have eaten in days.
Gone in seconds, and the hunger was barely sated. But it was enough energy to force movement with. Slowly, unsteadily, I rose to a sitting position. The world threatened to shift away from under me, but I held, trying to get my bearings.
I’m in… some sort of shack. Bare, rusted sheet metal on the walls; clearly an improvised structure. Other than that oddity, the room was surprisingly normal. No blood dripping from cages, no hunting trophies on the walls. A torn up carpet, a beaten-up table and chair, some cabinets, all illuminated by soft rays of light pouring in from a window over the table. And right next to my little mattress… is that more food? Some sort of orange vegetable. Like the sweet strayu, I ate without even tasting.
Much better. I was still starving, but only metaphorically. I could even move my other arm, though my legs were entirely numb and refused to cooperate no matter how much I pushed them. Could I escape by dragging my body with my arms?
No. I was still too weak. I had to count on the human fattening me up a bit more before I could make a break for it.
​
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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Memory Recovery Subject: Nathan Dunne, sole survivor of Vault 111
Date: December 13th, 2287
Just a hair to the right… and… Now. The interloper, a feral dog that had wandered onto the property, dropped without a sound.
I couldn’t afford to attract any attention, so I’d hastily slapped together a silencer for my pipe revolver. An old oil filter, just small enough to not obstruct the scope I’d hastily tied to the top. The gun looked ridiculous, but it got the job done silently. If I attracted any visitors, my alien guest was as good as dead. Nearly a week after finding it, and it still wasn’t waking up consistently.
Now’s not the time for thought. Focus. Now.
The second dog also dropped. The alpha of the pack still hadn’t noticed anything, a miracle. I lined up one last shot… pulled the trigger, and finally let myself breath. That was way too close. Every day without the fence finished was another day of silent stress.
Putting up a fence was easy enough, but putting up a fence QUIETLY was nightmarishly slow work, constantly punctuated by hiding from any would-be visitors. But these dogs had wandered onto the property without even seeing me. Could they smell the alien? I knew Dogmeat could track injuries from a far greater distance…
Fence should've been up yesterday. Back to work.
I’m running out of barbed wire. And screws. And boards. Can I afford another expedition? What if Dogmeat can’t defend him? Not a chance in hell I’m risking any other group learning about this… although Mama Murphy probably knows anyway, doesn’t she. Maybe the Minutemen can—
No. I can’t risk it. I’ll have to improvise. Maybe I can set up a Tesla arc as defense and leave to raid Sunshine Tidings. Rusted metal sheets don’t make for the best walls, but better than nothing.
The sun was still high, so I had some time if I hurried. As I began gathering supplies, a thought crossed my mind. A Tesla arc was better than nothing, and Dogmeat was formidable enough, but… surely if the alien was in serious danger, it could use some self defense. Those spikes weren’t gonna cut it. Maybe that bastard Kellogg’s old .44 would finally get some use?
I grabbed the .44 revolver, a spare arc trap I’d salvaged from Fort Hagan, and some tools. It would have to do. There was already power hooked up to the shack for heating, so wiring the—
The food’s gone.
Dogmeat didn’t eat carrots, so I knew there was only one culprit. The alien must’ve woken up while I was working. It was back asleep now, but at least it got something down. It wouldn’t starve. Thank god.
…right. If it can wake up, this trap is probably more dangerous to it than any invader. I walked back over to the shed, stowed the Tesla arc and tools, and grabbed a handful of vegetables and a water canteen. If it could stomach food, it needed to start putting on weight now to make up for lost time. This would be a start, at least.
I set the food and water on the table (taking care not to break the digital chimera I’d already laid there), and the gun beside the bed. I knew it could reach to there, without a doubt. Maybe toss in a handful more bullets, too; it’s not like I’d ever be able to make myself use the damn thing. I gave one last glance at the alien curled up on a bare mattress before closing the door and setting out.
—
Memory Transcription Subject: Rania, Gojid Civilian
Date [Standardized Human Time]: Error 560 (estimated date: Unknown)
Help me. Kay-ut. Ki-ra. Protector. Anyone. It’s right there.
When I heard the human coming, I faked sleep hoping it wouldn’t check. As seconds passed, that hope grew thinner and thinner. Clearly, it could see the food was gone. Not that it needed to figure anything out; it could probably see through my deception just looking at me. Ki-yu, trickster; please, let this work. Let me live a moment longer. Noises all around me. Was it laying out torturous weaponry? Was it getting ready to gut me?
Protector. Please. I don’t want to die.
The noise around me stopped. Had the gods heard my prayers? I dared not check; if the human was still there, and I so much as opened an eye, I was dead. But death failed to claim me, and more noises failed to appear, until I finally worked up the courage to take advantage of my blessing and open my eyes.
The human was gone. I was alive. One more look around the room, to make sure it hadn’t—
A gun. A human weapon, close enough to grab. And ammo…
I knew humans were masters at trapping, at deceiving; such was their nature. I stared at the gun, trying to figure out what the trap was.
But I was tired, and hungry, and every sense told me that this wasn’t a trap, but a loaded gun. An answer to my prayers for safety. I couldn’t hold myself back anymore. I picked it up. It felt solid and weighty in my hands, lending some sense of security to the otherwise hopeless situation. Emboldened, I tried to rise to my feet again.
If I grabbed some of the furniture and stood on my good leg, I could just about stay upright without pain. That would have to do for now. Maybe I could use something in this room as a crutch. A leg of the table might do nicely, if I could—
Food. More food, all over the table. A sprawl of alien vegetables, including that orange one I had earlier. A metal jug, probably filled with water. And… is that a translator?
Curiosity overpowered both my hunger and my fear. On closer inspection, it was indeed a translator, one of the older dedicated units. Wired into… some sort of metal armband with a green flickering screen. The craftsmanship was shoddy; some parts were literally held together with insulated tape. Still, it appeared to be powered on and functional.
If I wasn’t in so much danger… I’d love to get a better look at what the human did with this thing. To wire Federation tech directly into one of their devices, and make it work…
My attention drifted back to the bounty laid out on the table before me. It could all be poisoned, but I’d already eaten the human’s food; what harm could it do to be full?
—
Sweeter than the orange one, but not as filling. Kind of mushy. Now no longer starving, I began to savor my meal slightly more. The green fruit was next, the one nearly the size of my skull. Upon breaking open the shell, it turned out to be pinkish red inside, and so juicy that I didn’t even need the water in the jug.
Bitter, but strangely satisfying. Next was a massive purple flower, which I could only guess was supposed to be food as well. The taste was unpleasant, but it felt bizarrely good to eat. Maybe a medicinal herb?
Why would the human give me a medicinal herb?
I’d been circling around the question for some time now. Why the food? Why the gun? Why the lack of gutting? Even if those supposed “empathy tests” weren’t faked, our species were at war! Did it not know?
Well-fed prey made for better-tasting prey, but a gun did not feed. A translator did not feed. Did it really want to talk to me? I weighed my options.
Option 1: Run. Impossible to do in my current state. Even with a large head start, even with uninjured legs, humans were nothing if not persistent; my odds were not all too favorable. And where would I go, anyway?
Option 2: Hide. Impossible to do in any state. Humans were perceptive and cunning. Nothing short of divine protection would hide me. And again, where would I go afterwards?
Option 3: Fight. I had a loaded gun, but for all I knew it was only there to lure me into a false sense of security. And besides, did I really expect to outfight a predator?
Option 4: Talk. It wasn’t likely, but maybe the human would have some sympathy (or at least fake some sympathy to keep up appearances). I was already injured, and it hadn’t torn me apart already; it clearly had something else in mind. Maybe the translator was involved in its “Something else”?
I didn’t… like that last option, but it seemed a hair better than shooting on sight when the human came back. Maybe I was forsaking the protection of the gods, forsaking my fellow Gojid. But none of the options were without risk, and I had to try something bold if I wanted to survive.
A noise from outside roused me from my thoughts. It’s coming. Time to make your choice.
​
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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Memory Recovery Subject: Nathan Dunne, sole survivor of Vault 111
Date: December 13th, 2287
Halfway through the outbound trip, I realized I’d forgotten my pip-boy at camp. I’d taken both off, while working on wiring in that translator to the spare one from Vault 81. Having no way of assessing potential injuries simply would not do.
Halfway through the return trip, I realized I’d brought Dogmeat with me instead of leaving him to guard. I managed to make myself move a little faster. That .44 was no guarantee of safety, not if the alien simply couldn’t get up.
Once back, I could at least be sure that nothing happened. No blue blood seeping through the shack’s foundation. I grabbed the pip-boy, ordered Dogmeat to patrol, and prepared to leave before the daylight faded.
That’s a bit cold, isn’t it? Leaving without even checking on your guest?
I was leaving so I could build a fence for its protection, but… a quick check couldn’t hurt. Just to make sure nothing happened, right? Yeah. Sure. I had the time. Though maybe barging straight in wasn’t the brightest idea, not when I had just given it a revolver.
I knocked twice, and tried to lower my voice to a more soothing register. I had no idea if my hacked-together translator abomination would work, so tone was key. Before I could even speak, I heard a wild scrambling from the inside.
“Don’t— please don’t k-kill me, human, I’ll… I’ll do anything.”
…I guess I should be glad the translator worked? What the hell was that?
“I’m not gonna hurt you. I promise. Is it OK with you if I come inside?”
“I… Y-Yes.”
I gave Dogmeat a strong look to stay back, and cracked open the door. The terrified sniveling over the translator couldn’t have prepared me for what met my gaze.
A few weeks ago, I’d heard a heart-wrenching noise while poking around the edge of the glowing sea; a lone radstag doe, torn literally in half by a deathclaw. The beast was scared off by an approaching Vertibird, leaving the doe to wail helplessly until I put it out of its misery.
I had nothing else I could compare the alien to. It was shaking like an aspen leaf, eyes screwed shut and body curled up against the wall. The gun was still technically in its hand (claw?), but pointed at nothing. Just looking at the thing made me feel helpless.
But I brought it back from the brink of death. Soothing terror would surely be easier than saving its life.
—
Memory Transcription Subject: Rania, Gojid Civilian
Date [Standardized Human Time]: Error 560 (estimated date: Unknown)
Protector. Please, give me strength. It’s… It’s going to…
No. It just wants to talk. Rania, get a hold of yourself.
I cracked open an eye. Tears largely blinded me from the horrifying details of the predator, but the human still towered over me, casting an engulfing shadow over my weakened form. It was all I could do to not further embarrass myself with incoherent pleading.
It seemed to take notice of my fear, crouching down to roughly eye level.
“You’re OK. I’m not going to hurt you, no matter what. What’s your name?”
“R-Rania.” I forced another eye open. The human had moved itself to a chair. Soft daylight illuminated a pair of forward-facing eyes, but no predatory scowl. It had an expression which could be mistaken for solemn sympathy on another species. But it had no reason not to be sincere. There was no other audience, nor anything I could do to escape. Could it really be concerned?
“Rania. My name is Nate. Can you tell me… what you are?”
“Just Nate? I— I thought humans had two names.”
“Oh, uhh… Nathan Dunne. I just go by Nate.”
I noticed a distinct look of confusion engulf the human’s face. Actually, I started to notice a lot of things. It wasn’t just the building and translator that were so clearly improvised. It— Nate’s armor was clearly not standard-issue anything. Nor the weapon on his side, some sort of pistol made seemingly from scrap.
He didn’t look like a UN soldier, nor a civilian of any type. And… just now… did he ask what I was? How could he not know?
“I’m a… I’m a G—Gojid. Does that mean anything to you?”
He shook his head, which even I knew was a human gesture for no. “Not as such. I might need to work out some issues with the translator, though, so don't count on it meaning—”
“The Federation? The cradle? Venlil? Arxur? UN?”
A bizarre shudder passed through Nate. “I know about the UN, though I can’t imagine how they’re relevant now… and no to the rest.”
“I can’t imagine how they’re relevant”!? What the hell could that mean?
“What— what does the UN mean to you?”
Again, that shudder, like a shadow cast over his soul. “They were a global group, trying to keep international peace. When the first Resource wars sparked… they collapsed like a house of cards. 2052. I was 12. After that, it…” he trailed off, before forcing himself to speak. “It all went to hell. As you can see.”
I couldn’t speak for shock. Predators were deceitful by their nature, yet I knew in my heart his words were sincere. It was plain as day, etched across his face. And if so… What the hell? What the hell!? What was any of that?
“As you can see? What do you mean?”
“Can you walk?”
Should I reveal my weakness? I don’t see any way he couldn’t notice my condition by now, so maybe I can get some sympathy for it?
“I… no, I don’t think so…”
“Then I can carry you outside. If you want, I mean. You’ll see what I meant by ‘went to hell’ real quickly.”
He’d have to… oh Protector, if he chose to carry me to slaughter, there’d be nothing I could do. But by this point, my fear was starting to wear thin from weariness. Curiosity was slowly taking the upper hand.
“S-show me.”
And just like that, the world moved out from under me. Instinctively, I grasped the human’s artificial pelt like a pup clinging to its mother. Light flooded my still tearstained eyes. I blinked them clear, and looked out on the world.
​
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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Memory Transcription Subject: Rania, Gojid Civilian
Date [Standardized Human Time]: Error 560 (estimated date: Unknown)
Was this Earth? This couldn’t be Earth. Earth was green, wasn’t it?
Yellow foliage, grey trees. A soft blue sky, intermittently broken up by concrete highways that towered towards the clouds. And on the horizon, the mammoth corpse of a city, a metal carcass that dominated the skyline.
No green. No life. Not even wind. The whole scene was eerily still, seemingly frozen in time.
Unable to make sense of the wider world, my attention drifted closer. A ring of ramshackle fencing, a larger building that I might mistake for a house. An ancient hand-worked water pump. A plot of vegetables. A beast with glistening fangs, bounding towards—
“Dogmeat, no. Stay.”
Somehow, impossibly, the beast heeded the command, slowing down enough for me to get a better look at my imminent demise. Long brown fur with black markings, a swishing tail, a red fabric tied around its neck. Forward-facing eyes gleaming with hideous intelligence. It sat down, tilting its head and letting out a shrill whine.
“You still haven’t met Dogmeat yet, have you— Rania? Rania!”
I couldn’t breathe. It was looking straight at me. I thought the human was terrifying, but this thing made it look harmless. Did Nate not realize the danger he was in?
“N— No! Please… don’t let it…”
“It’s not going to hurt you either. You’re OK. Breathe.” Nate turned slightly, shielding the beast from view. “Here. We can go back inside if he scares you too much.” I managed to choke out an affirmation, and felt darkness overtake me as we rushed back into the relative safety of the shack. The door clicked shut, sealing the beast outside.
“Rania, talk to me. Can you breathe?”
“Please… please don’t feed me to it…”
Nate’s eyes went wide, and his hand rose to cover his mouth. I didn’t know much human body language (aside from the vicious snarl they called a smile), but shock was a constant across almost every species. His eyes cast around the room wildly, his breathing becoming erratic before he managed to regain control.
“Rania, I— I’m not going to feed you to him. You— listen, I won’t even let him in. It’s safe here.” He clearly had something else to say, and silently struggled with the words for a moment before finding his phrasing. “Can you tell me why you’re so scared? What happened before I found you?”
The words took several moments to consciously register, but their effect was immediate. If Nate was trying to startle me out of my fear, he couldn’t have done a better job. When I spoke, it was with startling clarity as fear was replaced by near-indignant confusion.
“How could I not be scared? You’re predators. Even if… even if you really don’t want to kill me, seeing injured prey must be a powerful temptation to your instincts, no? Not to mention the invasion of the cradle; even if you do have empathy, why try to save an enemy species?”
A few moments of stillness, and then I mimicked his previous motion of shock as I realized what I’d done. If he somehow didn’t know the situation with the Gojid before, he did now. Even prey empathy didn’t extend to their sworn enemies. My stupid thoughtless rambling meant I was good as dead.
“Rania.” Nate’s words were slow, soft, and measured. “I don’t know where you come from or what the situation is out… up there. But I can promise you this.” He tapped my shoulder, snapping me out of my terrified reverie and forcing me to pay full attention. “I’m never going to hurt you. I’ll keep it safe here, as long as it takes for you to heal. You can hold me to that.”
“Safe… even safe from that monster..?”
Nate looked deeply hurt, but quickly covered it up with his previous expression of concern. “Yes. I wish I could prove to you that my dog is friendly, but… if he scares you that much, I’ll find somewhere else for him.”
He stole a glance out the window, before turning back to me. “Listen. I need to get some supplies for the fence while there’s still light. I’ll take Dogmeat with me. Do you know how to use this?” He gestured towards the gun, still sitting where I’d carelessly let it slip from my claws minutes earlier.
“Y-yes.”
Apparently seeing straight through my lie, he bent down to show me. “Here, you just need to pull back the hammer. Finger over the trigger, and line up these sights on your target. Only pull the trigger when you know you have your shot.”
Nate stood up, putting one hand on the door before remembering something. “If you start hurting, you can use this.” He set a syringe down on the table. “Just stab wherever it hurts. The pack’ll do the rest for you. I’ll be back at sundown.”
And just like that, he was gone.
​
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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Memory Transcription Subject: Rania, Gojid Civilian
Date [Standardized Human Time]: Error 560 (estimated date: Unknown)
For a while, I just sat there, gun in hand and mind slowly dissolving from all the new information weighing it down. But boredom is a powerful thing, and even injured as I was, restlessness started to take hold.
With the beast gone, and gun in hand, I started convincing myself that it might be a good idea to get another look at the land. I needed to know what I had to work with in case… something happened. And I swore I saw a vegetable garden earlier. Curiosity was getting the better of me.
I tested my legs again. One was sore, but shockingly capable. The other was still burning when I applied pressure, and swaddled in bandages. I didn’t particularly feel like knowing what was under there. One leg would have to do. I didn’t need my legs to shoot, after all.
Cautiously, without making a sound, I cracked the door open. Nobody was out there. I took one shaky step. Then another. Inch by silent sore inch, I made my way over to the “house”.
Like everything out here, it was a rough-hewn heap of rusted metal and thick planks of wood. On closer inspection, however, some care had clearly been put into making it insulated. The windows even had glass (albeit covered in dust), rather than the screen mesh in my shack. This must be where the human lives.
What could Nate be hiding from me?
My curiosity burned brighter than the pain in my leg as I ambled towards the door. Unlocked. I peeked inside.
Thick layers of carpet. A fireplace on the wall, a couple paintings. A mattress much better-maintained than mine, pushed up under one of the windows.
No blood dripping from cages. No hunting trophies on the walls. No indication that this was the lair of a predator. If not for the construction materials, it could be mistaken for a house back on the cradle. It even has refrigeration and lights, without a functional power grid. I guess that predatory cunning comes in handy.
I already knew what the fridge must be filled with. I made the decision not to look. It’d be better if Nate didn’t know I was here, and that’d be pretty hard to hide with vomit all over his carpet. I couldn’t stop myself from looking in one of the cabinets, though. The thing was stuffed with cans of food, nearly full to bursting. Some were clearly homemade, some looked like they’d been excavated from the dirt. Maybe they had been.
My good leg was starting to ache, cutting my exploration short. With no small hesitation, I forced myself back outside, back to the shack where I could rest up a bit.
—
I was only steps away from the door when a horrifying sight stopped me in my tracks. Dead animals, three of them. Sickly looking things, but recognizably the same species as that ‘Dogmeat’. I couldn’t look away. Was Nate hunting before I woke up? I stepped closer, morbid curiosity dowsing my pain. I don’t see any bite marks. And… predators don’t eat other predators.
​
Did he kill them to protect me?
Humans were apex predators on their planet. It couldn’t have been self-defense. Nor could it have been hunger, if he’d just left them to rot. So… what other reasons would he have to fight?
I looked closer, my eyes meeting a series of glassy stares. Two of them looked literally skin and bones, but the third looked a lot like Dogmeat. Mouth closed, eyes staring up at the sky unseeing. I almost felt bad for it.
“I wish I could prove to you that my dog is friendly, but… if he scares you that much, I’ll find somewhere else for him.”
Did Nate feel any conflict, having to shoot them on my behalf? Was he going to shoot Dogmeat too, just to ease my fears? He clearly cared about the beast, but if he thought “keeping me safe” meant…
​
No. I wouldn’t let it come to that. I had to overcome my fear. If I wanted to survive, I needed to be stronger.
Reaching out to the body, arm trembling, I ran a claw down its side. It was soft… still warm, too. The thought that this predator had been alive so recently, only to be put down for my safety, managed to elicit a twinge of sorrow. That feeling, hold on to that. Force it through your fear.
My movements got bolder, even exploring the rows of sharp teeth hidden by a clenched jaw. And the soft fur on its underbelly… its long tail, which sat limp and unmoving on the dust. I could feel my fear begin to fade more and more with every second I sat next to the body of this predator.
Eventually, I forced myself to rise. As I walked back to my bed, I stole one last glance backwards. Instead of horrifying predators, all I saw was a family of three. That they had to die so I could live… the thought filled me with a strange sense of shame.
I couldn’t stand there forever. My poor legs wouldn’t allow it. Back to the bed, step by shaky step.
​
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Memory Recovery Subject: Nathan Dunne, sole survivor of Vault 111
Date: December 13th, 2287
Hauling sheet metal was no easy task, even with the help of a dog. It was dark by the time I got home; I’d missed my appointment with the sunset by nearly half an hour.
Supplies stowed away, armor shed, weapons holstered. I rummaged around the fridge for a radstag fry I’d prepared a couple days ago. I didn’t have the energy to cook, and I still needed to check in with Rania. Dogmeat hovered around my ankles, performing his best puppy impression.
These might be the last meals you get to eat with him. I gave a few scraps for his unconvincing performance.
I knew the minutemen would take good care of him, and Valentine could make good use of his nose. But saying goodbye would be a challenge. He’d had my back practically since I escaped Vault 111, and casting him aside felt like nothing short of a betrayal.
The radstag felt like sawdust in my mouth. I tossed the rest of it to Dogmeat, who looked up quizzically rather than digging in. I knew he was wondering why I was being so generous all of a sudden, but I wasn’t ready to break the news to him yet.
—
“Is it OK with you if I come in?”
The voice responding sounded completely different. Still recognizably Rania, but without the terrified quivering I’d expected. “Yes. We need to talk.”
I slipped inside, taking care not to let out too much heat. The figure facing me, while again still undoubtedly Rania, was otherwise unrecognizable. Sitting up straight, unshaking, looking directly at me. A far cry from the poor creature I’d talked to when I left. He (he? I decided to assume it was male, given the voice from the translator) turned his head slightly to the side, leaving one eye to meet both of mine in what I assumed was an intense stare for a person with side-facing eyes.
“Nate.” Rania’s voice was thick with determination. “I’ve decided… I want to get used to Dogmeat. If he’s really as friendly as you say, you shouldn’t have to get rid of him just because of my fear.”
It was all I could do to suppress a full-bodied sigh of relief. If he’s on the fence on this decision, showing my joy would force his hand. I have to stay calm. “Can I ask why?”
“I, uh… I found the other predators. The feral ones. The ones you shot.”
Oh.
“And I… I don’t want you to have to do the same for him. It doesn’t…” The quivering returned in shades, but he continued. “Even if you meant ‘find somewhere else for him’ literally, you shouldn’t have to do that for my sake.”
“I…” I buried my face in my hands, trying to beat back tears. “Thank you. I couldn’t imagine having to… thank you. I can still keep him away from you if you’re scared. You shouldn’t have to live in fear.”
Rania shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Actually, I was thinking I should… you know, get used to him, not just tolerate him from a distance. Face my fear head-on. Just… not tonight, OK?”
For all that quivering, he’s a lot braver than I thought he’d be.
“Yeah. We can get something worked out later. Right now, you need to rest. I’m not just talking about tonight; you’re still injured. Best you can do right now is rest and eat. Which reminds me… The vegetables I brought you earlier. How were they? Any you really liked?”
“Oh, uhhh… yeah, the orange one was really nice. And that red mushy one wasn’t so pleasant; I could eat it anyway to get full, but I’d rather not. Why do you have so many vegetables, anyway?”
Why wouldn’t I? “What do you mean?”
“Well, I thought… predators eat flesh, right? Were you growing them for decoration? I mean… it was nice to see something green and growing out here, but that seems like a lot of effort!”
I couldn’t manage a verbal response to this. All I could give was a baffled stare, which Rania seemed to interpret as a threat.
“I— I didn’t mean to insult you—”
“No, no, it’s just…” I rubbed my eyes. Hauling sheet metal had sapped all my energy, but I couldn’t just let this slide. “I mean… humans aren’t obligate carnivores. Most predators aren’t; even deathclaws forage for mutfruit when they can. Or does the word ‘predator’ mean something else to you?”
It was Rania’s turn for a blank stare, and I began to wonder if I’d just said something insulting. He looked down, mumbling something the translator couldn’t catch, then turned his attention back. “I think we should talk about this later. I need to rest.”
I knew it was a flimsy excuse (I could practically see his mind overheating as he stared back into the ground), but he wasn’t exactly wrong. I bid my farewell with a solemn nod.
—
The moon cast a picturesque blue light through the windows, giving just enough illumination to fend off sleep. On its own, the meager light couldn’t fight off the exhaustion radiating through my muscles, but Rania’s bizarre outburst was also keeping me up.
Not knowing about the history of our planet was perfectly reasonable, given his alien identity. Being so scared of humans despite apparently knowing about them was strange, but nothing a bit of trauma couldn’t induce. But even schoolchildren knew the basics of the food chain, and I found it hard to believe that a space-faring alien race would be less knowledgeable about ecology than the local population of raiders. Even with no education at all, certain things were obvious by observation.
If nothing else, Rania was right about one thing. We will need to talk about this later.
​
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[Continued in comments]

Up with the birds this morning. I have run and paddle boarded and done groceries all before 9.00am . Summer by the river in the morning before the crowds get there is the best. Looking for a lady for chat or whatever, near or far, to distract me from the lonely days and nights. I can provide an English accent, a touch of sarcasm, nice legs (runner) and deep meaningful conversation of the origins of life (ok maybe not). I cook (although summer means salad with spicy chicken), I run, I used to play a lot of soccer, now I just watch, I read a book a year...(2 pages and I fall asleep these days), I laugh (mainly at myself). Bonus if you have tried pickleball, that's becoming my new social event. Responses to previous posts were between slim and none (no offense meant to previous respondents) and long since faded into the internet ether. So please give me some virtual loving :) Prefer realtime chat to messages for the banter.

Is there a difference between a BT and RBT? I thought they were interchangeable but recently heard that BT is a “Behavior Therapist” while RBT is “Registered Behavior Technician”. I am certified as an RBT and thus go by that title. Then I remembered my BCaBa wrote a sample session note for me (initial session) and it said “Therapist worked on…”.
I know this sounds silly since I have been doing this job nearly a year now but I have to ask…am I a therapist? Are therapist and technician interchangeable in this field?

Read Chapter 29 Here: https://www.reddit.com/saw/comments/1417n7j/legacy_from_the_book_of_saw_chapter_29_wristdeep/
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*** CHAPTER 30 **\*
As Daniel is brought into the control room, his eyes widen at the sight of the bustling tech team huddled around a computer terminal, engrossed in their work. The ethereal glow of multiple screens illuminates their focused faces, while a tangled web of cables drape across the tabletop.
But what truly captured Daniel's attention was the meticulously detailed layout of the museum displayed before the team. The blueprint, marked with distinct security zones and strategic points, sprawled across the surface. Each section was carefully annotated, indicating cameras, alarm systems, trap locations, and other crucial information.
Time passes sluggishly, with tension hanging in the air for what feels like an eternity. The tech team painstakingly maneuvers through digital obstacles, their nimble fingers dancing across the keyboard, determined to breach the formidable firewall guarding the museum's security feed. Finally, success flashes across their faces as they gain access to the coveted treasure trove of footage.
The computer springs to life, displaying a mosaic of individual camera feeds. Daniel’s gaze darts across the screen, observing the technician skillfully navigating through the labyrinth of lenses. Each camera reveals different corners of the museum. His heart races as he witnesses the victims, trapped and vulnerable, captured by the unblinking eyes of the cameras.
Just as the tension reaches its zenith, the door swings open and Lincoln strides into the room.
Aware of the team’s crucial task, Lincoln breaks the silence, “Any progress?” he queries.
A spark of adrenaline ignites in Marlow’s eyes, “We just got it,” he exclaims, unable to contain his elation.
Lincoln’s footsteps echo softly as he circles the table, his eyes fixated on the monitor, and together they notice Gavin sitting on the cold floor, his posture guarded, clutching the box tightly against his side.
Marlow, furrowing his brow, spoke with concern, “That’s strange,” he murmurs.
Curiosity piqued, Lincoln redirects his attention towards Marlow, eager to uncover the cause of his colleague’s unease, “What is it?”
Marlow, delving into the depths of the internal code, sifts through the virtual layers with a sense of urgency. A realization dawns upon him as he unearths an unexpected anomaly. “This shouldn’t be here,” he stated.
Puzzled, Lincoln seeks clarification, “What’s the problem?”
With his eyes fixated on the screen, Marlow reveals the unsettling discovery, “There’s a duel broadcast,” he discloses.
As the significance of Marlow’s revelation sinks in, Lincoln’s gaze narrows, honing in on the critical detail before him. The digital feed displays a timer, ominously counting down from a daunting forty minutes. A sense of urgency permeates his words, “Is it live?”
Marlow focuses on Lincoln, “Yes, but, I need to establish a barrier to block Hoffman out and prevent him from regaining control.”
"Good. Do it. Let me know when it's done." Lincoln said.
Leaving the room behind, Lincoln stepped outside and spotted Agent Kullen with a squad member. Several entrances had been cleared of traps, and the dismantled weapons and explosives were being carefully transported to the rear of a SWAT van.
“We’ve got access to the security feed," Lincoln said, "The survivors are still alive.”
A sense of relief filled Kullen’s words, “Where are they being held?”
“You were right, new construction.” Lincoln confirmed.
Kullen looks over his shoulder towards the expansion area, "We’re still disabling those traps."
"One more thing," Lincoln said, "I didn’t see Logan and Elanor, but Gavin Beck is inside, and he's injured. Can't tell how bad…."
Swiftly responding to the update, Kullen activated his radio and relayed the crucial information, his voice urgent, “Attention, we’ve located three victims. One of them is injured. Requesting ambulances to move to the front immediately and prepare for emergency evacuation.”
Attempting to maintain composure amidst the escalating situation, Kullen addressed Lincoln, “Stay positive, Detective,” he said, his hand trembling, “I just got off the phone with Zeke Banks. He’s on his way. What about Hoffman and Schenk?”
Surprised by the mention of Zeke’s impending arrival, Lincoln inquired, "Zeke is coming here?"
Before Kullen could respond, his peripheral vision caught a glimpse of movement. Across the caution tape, news reporters scurried about, positioning themselves in front of their cameras, a sense of urgency driving their actions.
“What’s going on?” Kullen muttered to himself.
Together, Lincoln and Kullen maneuvered their way toward the journalist, their curiosity triggered by the unfolding scene.
“We’re outside of the National History Museum, where we can now confirm the presence of three survivors trapped within,” the reporters voice resonated through the airwaves, “Gavin Beck, Sarah Harper, and Renee Walsh have become the latest victims in the harrowing saga of the Jigsaw Killer, whose reign of terror has plagued our city for over a decade.”
A sharp pang of shame pierced Lincoln’s core upon hearing the reporter's words, the weight of responsibility pressing heavily upon him.
“But now, for the very first time, we possess live footage capturing the game as it unfolds,” the reporter continued, a hint of excitement in their tone. “The following footage has been extracted from the security cameras situated within the building behind me.”
Stunned by the unfolding revelation, Agent Kullen broke through the caution tape and stepped purposefully in front of the camera, his intention clear - to put an end to the broadcast.
“What do you think you’re doing?” the angered correspondent demanded, her voice beaming with frustration.
Kullen fixed a stern gaze upon the woman, his tone firm, “How did you obtain this footage?”
“It’s all over the internet!” She explains, “The whole trap is being shared online.”
Audiences across the country were turning into the live feed.
As their televisions faded to black, a message materialized: Viewer Discretion is Advised.
Meanwhile, growing tired of Elanor’s desperate cries for help, Hoffman maneuvered her away from Logan, who remained unconscious, and wheeled her into the surveillance room. Pushing her into a corner, he retrieved duct tape from a nearby drawer and used his knife to slice off a substantial length. He then applied it firmly over Elanor’s mouth, muffling her anguished wails that now fell upon deaf ears. Just as Hoffman prepared to depart, his attention was captured by the television, revealing the live footage of the ongoing trap.
Intrigued, Hoffman placed his knife down and took a seat at the nearby table. Folding his arms, he watched intently as Gavin struggled to remove the weighty sandbag from his chest.
“What the fuck?” Amanda exclaimed, seated behind Hoffman, her astonishment, mirroring his own.
Outside the surveillance room, Logan began to regain consciousness. As his awareness sharpened, he quickly assessed his surroundings and searched for Elanor. Shifting his body upward, he felt the tight restraints of the handcuffs encircling his wrists. Peering into the surveillance room, he caught sight of Elanor in distress, while Hoffman remained fixated on the television screen. A wave of relief washes over Logan, knowing that she was still alive. Determined to find a means of escape, his gaze scanned the room until it landed on the aluminum dispenser above him, along with scattered barrels of petroleum.
Across town, Autumn had finished gathering her belongings when she too caught sight of the live footage showcasing the museum trap. Recognizing two of the victims, and recalling the information she had learned from Lincoln about their previous trials, she became engrossed in the broadcast. Setting her bag down, she stood near the couch, locked into the unfolding events, with a police escort standing beside her.
As Autumn remained captivated by the live feed, she witnesses Gavin rise to his feet and stagger toward the women, his movements unsteady. In his approach, he picked up a brick from the tower, clutching it tightly in his hand.
Within the confines of the exhibit, Gavin positioned himself behind Renee and Sarah, observing their relentless efforts to assault the grate obstructing the ventilation shaft. Sarah turned around, and Gavin extended the brick towards her. With determined force, another powerful strike landed, causing one of the bolts to come loose. They repeated the action, gradually peeling the barrier away from the wall, creating a narrow gap. Utilizing their combined strength, they exerted enough force to retract the screen, bending the screws on the left side.
Gavin retrieved another brick from the tower and rejoined the women. Gripping the red brick firmly, his palms began to perspire, a symbol of his mounting apprehension.
“Almost got it,” Renee uttered, twisting and pulling the screen until it finally yielded, breaking off the hinges.
Exhausted, Renee leaned backward, allowing Sarah to be the first to peer inside.
Gavin takes a deep breath, loosening his grip on the stone, anxiously awaiting the reveal.
Sarah sighed, disappointment tainting her voice. The shaft lay before them, outlined with menacing barbed wire and shards of broken glass.
“Told ya,” she said.
“We’ve made progress,” Renee exclaimed, still hopeful, “That’s what matters.”
Sarah’s eyebrows arched dubiously as she voiced her concerns, “We don’t know if that’s a way out and we’re running out of time.”
As Sarah turned to gauge Gavin’s perspective, her world abruptly shattered. A brutal impact from the brick collided with her head, causing blood to spill from the painful gash. She crumbled to the floor, disoriented and struggling to comprehend the sudden assault.
The unexpected violence filled Renee with fear and her mind raced frantically. Without wasting a moment, she launched an attack against him, but her weakened state rendered her efforts feeble. Gavin easily overpowered her, forcefully pushing her to the ground, her head meeting the unforgiving concrete with a sickening thud.
Meanwhile, the horrified audience watching from the safety of their homes bore witness to the unfolding events, their hearts gripped by the chilling spectacle. Each gruesome moment played out before their eyes.
Hoffman, displaying a disturbing apathy, seemed unaffected by the brutality taking place, while Elanor’s eyes bulged from their sockets, a silent plea for help and salvation.
Autumn, filled with disbelief and revulsion, found herself appalled by the heinous attack. Beside her, the police escort swiftly reached for his radio, urgently engaging in communication with law enforcement personnel on-site.
Inside the control room, Lincoln, Kullen, Marlow, and Daniel endured the torment of witnessing the disturbing footage. Their faces etched with concern as their minds raced to find a way to intervene and put an end to the nightmare.
With her stomach to the floor, Gavin straddles Sarah and removes the piano wire from his pocket.
Still dazed from the wicked blow to her head, Sarah fought with all her strength, desperate to free herself from Gavin's torment. She struggled to push him off her back, kicking and flailing while her screams for help filled the room.
Determined to succeed, Gavin attempted to wrap the piano wire around Sarah’s throat, but she instinctively blocked him, using her remaining hand to shield her vulnerable neck. In a surge of defiance, she reached back and delivered a forceful elbow strike to his abdomen. The pain coursed through him, causing him to drop the piano wire to the floor. However, he swiftly flipped her body over, sliding her wrist beneath his knees, effectively immobilizing her. With a frightening resolve, he resumed his vicious attack, tightening his grip around her throat, Desperately gasping for air, Sarah’s face grew increasingly red under the pressure of Gavin’s grip, and her vision began to blur, the world around her fading into a hazy abyss.
Unbeknownst to Gavin, a flicker of consciousness had returned to Renee, and the sound of Sarah’s harrowing struggle pierced through the fog of her own pain. With great effort, Renee attempted to rise, battling the throbbing ache in her head, her focus fixated on the weapon discarded by Gavin, lying on the floor within reach.
Seizing the piano wire with a surge of adrenaline, Renee quickly closed the distance to Gavin, her sole focus on saving Sarah. Without hesitation, she skillfully wrapped the cord around Gavin’s neck, forcefully pulling him away from her friend’s gasping form. Gavin’s hands thrashed about in a futile attempt to clutch the sturdy wire that tore into his flesh.
Sarah, still recovering and crawling to safety, watched in astonishment and awe as Renee took control of the situation. With a fierce determination fueled by anger and vengeance, Renee twisted and yanked on the cord, tightening the grip around Gavin’s neck, causing him to bleed profusely and struggle in agony. Beads of sweat formed on his head, his tongue protruding from his mouth in a grotesque display. His face contorted into a horrifying medley of colors-red, purple, and blue- as the life force drained from him.
Lost in a moment of unbridled rage, Renee’s primal scream pierced the air as she continued to tug on the cord, relentlessly severing his throat. Each pull intensified the macabre scene, painting the floor with a gruesome tapestry of blood. Sarah, a witness to the chilling brutality, could only watch in horror as Renee nearly detached Gavin’s head from his body, the lifeless body hanging limp on the wire.
A heavy silence settles over the room, punctuated only by the lingering presence of blood and the haunting memory of the violence that had just occurred.
The savage display captured by the security cameras spread like wildfire across the internet, captivating an audience of thousands. The harrowing footage was swiftly clipped and shared on numerous websites, causing the viewer count to skyrocket with each passing second. Reactions on social media were diverse, ranging from visceral disgust to arguments defending the act as self defense. The disturbing visuals ignited a storm of controversy, prompting a deluge of calls to flood news stations, with viewers expressing a myriad of complaints and concerns.
Feeling a wave of overwhelming emotions, Daniel emerged from the suffocating confines of the control room, his face flush with disgust.
Noticing Daniel’s distress, Lincoln approached with a sense of understanding. "You alright?"
"Just overwhelmed," Daniel replied, "Needed some air, some space to process it all."
Nodding in acknowledgment, Lincoln offered a small gesture of comfort, “I got some water in the car. Go on. Take a rest.”
Grateful, Daniel made his way towards the car, allowing himself a momentary escape from the relentless onslaught of darkness and despair.
***
TO BE CONTINUED...

Up with the birds this morning. I have run and paddle boarded and done groceries all before 9.00am . Summer by the river in the morning before the crowds get there is the best. Looking for a lady for chat or whatever, near or far, to distract me from the lonely days and nights. I can provide an English accent, a touch of sarcasm, nice legs (runner) and deep meaningful conversation of the origins of life (ok maybe not). I cook (although summer means salad with spicy chicken), I run, I used to play a lot of soccer, now I just watch, I read a book a year...(2 pages and I fall asleep these days), I laugh (mainly at myself). Bonus if you have tried pickleball, that's becoming my new social event. Responses to previous posts were between slim and none (no offense meant to previous respondents) and long since faded into the internet ether. So please give me some virtual loving :) Prefer realtime chat to messages for the banter.

So my egg in game was cleffa not togepi. I need a fairy type Pokémon or Pokémon with a fairy type move in game. I tried to find dazzling gleam (btw I have the original early 2000s Diamond game not the remake and am playing on my dsi) and I can’t find it anywhere. Not in veilstone market or the game corner. Absolutely nowhere to be found. I ended up learning that Noctowl is supposed to learn moon blast by level up so I got one near snowpoint. I spent an entire day leveling it up from 30 to 66. It ended up learning moves it was supposed to learn at lower levels but never moon blast and I’m getting tired of leveling it to no avail. What is the issue? is it that I got a level thirty Noctowl? or is it that Noctowl doesn’t learn moon blast in the original version? Should I pull my level 12 hoothoot out of the box and level it up? I wanted Noctowl for Cynthia after training it due to isn’t invulnerability to ghost type moves. Should I just level up my cleffa to one of the other evolutions for my fairy moves? Idk what to do.
Also why doesn’t my game have dazzling gleam at all? Is it only in the remake version or…?
Psa I’m kinda a novice to Pokémon so ask me anything and go easy on me if Im an idiot about anything.

It's the episode where Blanche is dating the guy who was gaslighting her and just generally being a dickhead. It's just as sad that he hurt Dorothy before Blanche saw who he really was. Something they said at the end that stuck with me: some people have to hit rock bottom before they get out.
Some people never do. It took me 5 years to leave. I left him 3 years ago. I appreciate how they showed how sneaky the abuse can seem and how insidious gaslighting is. I love how they addressed tough topics with humor and grace. Especially back then because spousal abuse or IPV wasn't talked about nearly as much.

Been part time for the last 7 years to be home more for my son.
Hes older now and im looking at throwing myself into a new career.
Based up near newcastle so i know i can get to north shields for the AIS center and get my courses done, its just i want to know if its worth doing if employers will just look at my CV and turn me down without any prior experience.
Any advice in this? What companies are looking to hire pretty regular.
Looking at being a turbine maintenance technician cos i want to be climbing these things and im really keen to do somthing that actually pays money instead of everything else ive done which just lets you survive.