I ve been getting dirty money

I’ve been smoking everyday with grabba for years now. I go through a half ounce in about 4 days. Wish me luck. On my way to work. Worried that I will cave and smoke after I get home. I want to get my decision making skills back

Something I wondered and thought of after rewatching the card selection in both timelines:
1990s: Nat gets the queen card and is spared by the wilderness because she was it’s “favorite”
-Afterwards, Nat presumably becomes the antler queen since Lottie stated the wilderness had chosen her to lead
2021: Shauna gets the queen card and is also spared as Nat is the one who ends up dying and the wilderness takes her
Maybe the card selection not only determines who gets sacrificed/eaten but it might also determine who the new “queen B” is.
If that’s true, Shauna might be the new antler queen among the group of survivors in the next season.
I also think that since Callie involved herself in their hunt that the wilderness will possibly include her. I’ve also seen others on posts saying that maybe Callie already possesses it and that it was passed down to her from Shauna.
I agree with those theories and I hope this concept is explored in the next season along with the possibility of a new antler queen.

God, I fucking miss your stupid face. It’s my favorite one. Your honey brown eyes glowing like amber in the sun. I could drown myself in them.
I hate how everything happened. We both messed up. Big time. I exploded and you ghosted. Then I kinda stalked you. I’m truly sorry for my words and actions. I was so hurt. So angry that you could disappear without a single word like it all meant nothing. Like I meant nothing. I know how you feel/felt about me. I couldn’t be easy for you. I know I hurt you as well. I’m sorry.
I don’t know if you’re angry with me, if you hate me, if this is a forced situation? Hell, are you still alive? Still have your leg? I have no clue what’s going on except that you changed your phone number again. I already have the new number. I didn’t stop trying to call and text because you changed it. I stopped out of respect for your boundaries. A little late, I know, but I’m trying very hard every day to get my emotions in check.
I will certainly forgive and forget as long as you eventually tell me the whole story of what happened. I just wish I knew where a stand with you.
I will wait here. Every minute of every day for the rest of my life. I’ll live my entire existence inside these walls waiting hopelessly fir you to open the door and come in. I’d rather wait than miss an opportunity to be with you, for only a moment or forever. I’ll take what I can get. Will this ruin me? Probably. I’m lol take my chances.
I love you inexplicably, uncontrollably, with a passion and need I have never felt before or again. You are my only star in the dark sky ⭐️ and the very best I’ve ever had, in every way.
You’re always welcome here. No matter what. I will always be so inviting, sweet, cordial and apologetic. I will always welcome you as a friend. Please come. Send a text, a smoke signal, a postcard or letter. Do you need a stamp? I’ll drive one down and leave it in the mailbox for you. Please give me something. Anything. Give me hope or slam the proverbial door.
Meanwhile, I’ll just wait….God, I fucking miss you….

1. C

I used to do a lot of wood-turning; less so these past few years.
I'm now getting rid of most of the wood I'd cut for turning that has been drying, covered from rain, on my carport ever since. Some since Katrina.
Thought some gardeners might like to make some rot/termite resistant thingamagigs for their garden space.
No I don't have photos; no I can't stand around while you dig through the pile. Not to sound like an asshole, but I don't have the time or energy.
You can take it all; you can take a piece or two. This is a no-contact pick up.
If you want it all, you'll need a full-size pickup ...and a strong back. No prejudice against the distaff side, but you'll probably need to bring some muscle for the larger pieces.
I don't care who this goes to.... Know someone with a maker space? Hook us up.
I also have a similar amount of oak. Same deal. Same limitations. Anyone here a pit master or know one? Any smallish BBQ joint want a free load of oak? [Don't know how cedar works for that.]
I'm outside working; don't use a cell phone. Msg interests here; I'll get back soon.

Our family creation is via surrogacy and using egg donors, and it has been challenging. We live in Canada, still waiting for a surrogate for over 1.5 years (apparently typical). During this time we had many struggles with embryo creation using an egg donor but finally got 2 euploid and 1 low level mosaic.
We are constantly worried that the embryos we have is not enough or a factor in why we are not being matched with a surrogate even though we are told it might not be from the agency. We struggle with deciding if we should try to create more embryos as we are paying out of pocket and will add more dents in our pocket. We have already went through 2 cycles to get to where we are, using two egg donors in fresh cycles. We also struggle to decide if we do want to create more, which route to go down as we worry the path we take will be dead ends and use up more money we don't have. Route 1: if we should try to find another egg donor for a fresh cycle (which sometimes can be a gamble as it can go south sometimes from starting medication to egg retrieval; which we had previous experienced a canceled cycle which costed us a lot financially but can result in more eggs to increase chances of some good embryos). Route 2: get donor frozen eggs (which is still costly for purchasing 6 or 10 eggs, less emotional toll as you know you will have eggs but due to the amount of eggs to fetikitze it can also result in no emrbyos). Differences in prices is about $10-15,000.
Just wanted to get advice on what people would do if they were in our situation. And if they decided to try for more embryos which route would they feel is worth the risk weighing the emotional and financial toll.
Sorry if this sounded incoherent as my mind is spiraling from the journey as you may all have experienced before. Thank you so much for taking the time to read this.

It's been 43 days since i(19M) broke up with my ex(18F). Our last conversation was pretty much heated. She pushed away my friends from me and didn't supported me when i needed her support with my disease and my parent's divorce initiation. Even though I was the one who decided to end everything it really hurted me so much that I was really depressed for couple of weeks. Now I'm able to do anything without her restrictions and I'm confident enough to get passed in the language proficiency test and leave my country.
Don't try to contact the person who won't give the value you deserve. There are so many people who will realise your value ,so stay strong my bros.
We gonna be alright without them💪😎

I know this sub gets lots of posts like this, so if you make it through, thanks for reading.
I’ve just been diagnosed with a hip impingement with cam (left hip, 31f, athlete). I’ve been having pain in my groin, down the front of my hip, in my glutes for several years now, off and on, and then in January strained my left hamstring due to what I’m guessing is compensation for my weak, unstable hip.
I’ve been in physical therapy working on fixing my pelvic tilt, strengthening my core and trying in vain to improve hip internal rotation. The pain only got worse, so I’ve seen an ortho and had imaging. No tears, but ortho says a steroid shot and surgery to remove the cam lesion could help.
It wasn’t always this way: A year ago I was doing yoga and running and lifting with only intermittent pain. Now, my hip hurts daily. It gets worse while sitting and overall just feels disconnected from my body and weak.
I’ve never had surgery of any kind and a hip surgery at 31 sounds daunting. I want to try other interventions before that—but don’t know if there are any others. The practitioners I’ve seen have given up: basically get surgery or we don’t know how to help you.
My Achilles tendon and heel on the same side of my impinged hip have now started to hurt. I recognize my other muscles and their functions are starting to break down.
I read all sorts of advice that contradicts each other: do stretch your hip, don’t stretch your hip, do deadlift hinges, don’t do anything with a hip hinge, etc.
For those of you without tears, and who didn’t opt for surgery…yet…were there exercises you did to strengthen your hip function?
Did you find PT that actually helped you? What kinds of protocols did you do?
Did you stop all exercise activity to heal? I want to keep working out, but I fear I’m harming my body by doing so.
I’m not ready for surgery because I feel like I’m young and can do more work to help ease my pain…but I just feel lost at this point.

/******************************************************************* A telegram bot for your ESP32 that demonstrates sending an image from SD. Parts: ESP32 D1 Mini stlye Dev board* - http://s.click.aliexpress.com/e/C6ds4my (or any ESP32 board) = Affilate If you find what I do useful and would like to support me, please consider becoming a sponsor on Github https://github.com/sponsors/witnessmenow/ Example originally written by Vadim Sinitski Library written by Brian Lough YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/brianlough Tindie: https://www.tindie.com/stores/brianlough/ Twitter: https://twitter.com/witnessmenow *******************************************************************/ #include  #include  #include  #include  #include  #include  // Wifi network station credentials #define WIFI_SSID "Dlink" #define WIFI_PASSWORD "xxxx" // Telegram BOT Token (Get from Botfather) #define BOT_TOKEN "xxxxxx:AxxxxxxxxxxxVVnwvAqxxxxxxxxxC8" const unsigned long BOT_MTBS = 1000; // mean time between scan messages #define SD_CS 5 unsigned long bot_lasttime; // last time messages' scan has been done WiFiClientSecure secured_client; UniversalTelegramBot bot(BOT_TOKEN, secured_client); File myFile; bool isMoreDataAvailable(); byte getNextByte(); bool isMoreDataAvailable() { return myFile.available(); } byte getNextByte() { return myFile.read(); } void handleNewMessages(int numNewMessages) { String chat_id = bot.messages[0].chat_id; String file_name = "/box.jpg"; myFile = SD.open(file_name); if (myFile) { Serial.print(file_name); Serial.print("...."); Serial.println("Chat ID: " + chat_id); Serial.print("Image file size: "); Serial.println(myFile.size()); //Content type for PNG image/png String sent = bot.sendPhotoByBinary(chat_id, "image/jpeg", myFile.size(), isMoreDataAvailable, getNextByte, nullptr, nullptr); if (sent) { Serial.println("was successfully sent"); } else { Serial.println("was not sent"); } myFile.close(); } else { // if the file didn't open, print an error: Serial.println("error opening photo"); } } void setup() { Serial.begin(115200); Serial.println(); Serial.print("Initializing SD card...."); if (!SD.begin(SD_CS)) { Serial.println("failed!"); return; } Serial.println("done."); // attempt to connect to Wifi network: Serial.print("Connecting to Wifi SSID "); Serial.print(WIFI_SSID); WiFi.begin(WIFI_SSID, WIFI_PASSWORD); secured_client.setCACert(TELEGRAM_CERTIFICATE_ROOT); // Add root certificate for api.telegram.org while (WiFi.status() != WL_CONNECTED) { Serial.print("."); delay(500); } Serial.print("\nWiFi connected. IP address: "); Serial.println(WiFi.localIP()); Serial.print("Retrieving time: "); configTime(0, 0, "pool.ntp.org"); // get UTC time via NTP time_t now = time(nullptr); while (now < 24 * 3600) { Serial.print("."); delay(100); now = time(nullptr); } Serial.println(now); } void loop() { if (millis() - bot_lasttime > BOT_MTBS) { int numNewMessages = bot.getUpdates(bot.last_message_received + 1); while (numNewMessages) { Serial.println("got response"); handleNewMessages(numNewMessages); numNewMessages = bot.getUpdates(bot.last_message_received + 1); } bot_lasttime = millis(); } } 

this is code i am using. its a example code and i have put in the botid properly.

Hello all, I need advice really badly. I feel horrible inside, cut to the very core of my soul. I was invited to a church healing service by a friend and the church itself is Pentecostal. I'd never been to a Pentecostal church before and I figured, why not? Church is church, worshiping God is always a good thing, right?
Things got... chaotic, is the only word I can use to describe it. I myself am a very quiet, reserved person, and it's not that I don't love the Lord, I do, I was just unused to how passionate things were. People shouting into the microphone to the point of a headache, music so loud you can't hear yourself think... But again, everyone worships in their own way.
Towards the end of the service, when they were praying over people who needed healing (I needed healing badly), a few people came to pray on me which I was fine with. Lots of "hallelujah"s and "praise God"s and people screaming and shouting... again, okay, everyone has their way. And then at some point, the pastor came up to me, I forget what happened, but one moment we're talking and then he asks about whether I've been baptized (I was, in 2017; I was baptized in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit--some of you probably saw my post last month), and I told him yes, in the Holy Trinity, and then he asked if I'd like to be baptized in the name of Jesus, and I guess I got caught up in everything or felt like I needed to, I don't really know, everything felt so confused and chaotic, and I just nodded and said yes. Then he laid his hand on my head and told me to worship, worship, worship, and that I needed to speak in tongues, and I'm like ??? um, alright. I didn't speak in tongues the whole time. It felt like forever, standing there with this guy's hand on my head, telling me to thank God, praise Him, praise Him, yes, keep doing that, Holy Spirit let her speak in tongues and again... I didn't speak in tongues?
Then they're leading me into a bathroom, give me clothes to change into, and the whole time, I was shaking horribly, I didn't realize I was going into a panic attack. I don't even know what I was thinking, I just was like, Jesus, if You want me to do this, I'll do it, but if not, please stop me. Next thing I know, they're helping me get in the tub, the water was so cold, strangers surrounding me on all corners, shouting and spittle flying and screams, and then I was dunked under, and then they kept trying to get me to pray in tongues (I didn't). I couldn't get out of that tub fast enough to get my clothes and get out of there. I felt sick, I felt so violated and grieved, like I'd just made a big mistake and there was no way to fix it, not even with God, not even in death. The person who invited me there didn't understand why I felt so grieved and was like, hey, this is a good thing! You were baptized correctly this time! Rejoice!
How do I rejoice when I feel like I've just done a horrible, horrible thing? Whereas other people were getting baptized and screaming "hallelujah" and whatnot, I raced to get to my car and I couldn't stop shaking or crying. It took calling my mother for me to calm down enough to make the long drive back home. I was going into a full-blown panic attack and asking God repeatedly to please forgive me, I am so sorry.
When I got home, I couldn't look at myself in the mirror. I still can't. I couldn't look at any online posts about the bible or God or anything because I felt so guilty. I felt utterly violated inside and all I kept thinking was, "this is my own fault, I shouldn't have jumped the gun, I should've given it more thought before deciding to do this, I was already baptized, God must hate me now for what I've just done." I felt like no matter how hard I scrubbed myself in the shower, I was filthy. And... I don't know why. I really don't. The first time I got baptized, I was excited and my family was with me, but this time around, it was the complete opposite.
I felt like, prior to this service, I was OK with God; I study my bible each morning, I talk to Him throughout the day, I try to walk in a way that is pleasing to Him. Yet after last night, I feel sick. I feel like I've done something so horrible and unforgiveable that I'm disgusting in God's eyes. Baptism is not a light choice, it's supposed to be this beautiful thing, an outward expression to the world of an inward faith, but I feel like my soul was violated. I feel like my heart wasn't in the right place and I did this holy thing, and by not doing it with my heart in the right place, I feel like I just majorly disgusted God. I don't think my heart was in the right place, and when you get baptized, you're supposed to have the right mindset and heart to do it. I think I screwed up majorly. I've asked God to forgive me, but I wonder if maybe I crossed a line where God is like nope, I'm done with you. Depart from Me.
I don't really know what advice I'm looking for, I just feel so grieved inside, and I've asked God to forgive me, but I feel like I really messed up this time... I just wanted to have a relationship with Jesus, and now I feel like now I've gone and screwed it all up because fellow human beings are like "nope you have to do it THIS way."
I don't know who to talk to and I don't know where to turn...

i fucked up and now it's all over, its been five hours and i have no idea how i am going to get through this.

Ahoy there! It's been pretty lonely lately, so I figured I'd put myself out there and try to make some new friends. I'm of SouthEast Asian descent born and raised in Southern California. Definitely more of an indoor person, but I'm making an effort to go outside more and explore new places. Also a bit cringe so don't say I didn't warn ya!
I'm a huge fan of anime, science fiction, fantasy, documentaries, procedural crime shows, and series like Futurama, The Simpsons, Love Death Robots, and The Twilight Zone. I also enjoy playing a bunch of PC games, so hit me up if you want to game together! I'm open to trying anything that looks fun.
Currently trying to improve all areas of my life and trying out new hobbies, listening to new music, watching new things. Mostly trying to get outside my comfort zone and do things I normally wouldn't. Feel free to send a message if you're up for a friendly chat/voicechat. What do you enjoy doing in your free time? What movies, foods, games, or songs are you really into? I look forward to getting to know ya!

Every time I have sex I bleed like I’m on my period for a week. I got my IUD in February. All spotting, cramping etc stopped about 6 weeks after. In the last month and a half I’ve started having sex and now there’s blood all the time. I have a phone appointment with a dr to get a referral to get placement checked.

Let’s say I have $3000 in acorns invest and I’ve been putting in money weekly for the past few years.
Does acorns have an easy way to see how much of my account balance is long term holdings vs short term holdings?
Thanks!

I have been trying to do abyss for a while but I keep getting stuck on 10-3 because of my characters. Can someone help me?

Target User: u/H4ckJack
URL: /Twittecomments/13ykxeu/im_tired_of_the_transphobia_so_i_left/jmpanpx/
Body:
There's debate about trans people because the ideology does partially rely on suspension of disbelief, particularly since "identifying as something" has been brought to extremes as a concept.
It's not settled stuff and members of the LGBTQ community don't do themselves any favours by screaming "because I say so" at people asking genuine questions (and if you tell me that's not the case, get lost. I've been there).
I'm a centrist so I think you're ALL dumb and too arrogant, lazy, and self-centered to properly communicate your view of the world (much less to actually listen to others).
You reap what you sow, in the end. So drop the finger-pointing and calling people "transphobic" just because they don't adopt all your quirky / shitty ideas. Arm yourselves with patience and maturity. If you're here to change a societal paradigm you can't just tell people they're wrong and you're right.
Oh. Another thing: sitting in an echo chamber won't do you any good either. You'll just face transphobia and "transphobia" RL.

There has been hundreds of instances where something objectively mildly opsetting would happen to me, and I'd just keep going as I am and keep quiet and I know my facial expression wouldn't change because to change it usually I need consious effort. But people around, if acquintanced to me, would look down on me as if I'm a kid who's gonna have a temper tantrum and say awwww don't get upseeeeeeeet it's okayyyyy...
I don't rule out the possibility that it's because my default face can certainly be interpreted as sad, but every time those people had enough time to get used to it, like those were my classmates or not-so-close old friends etc.
Idek what to say in those situations, like if I say I'm not upset they don't believe me, if I tell them to leave me alone they'll think I'm even more hurt and also that I don't like them :') it's so dumb

My husband and I used to have a go-to with excellent biscuits and gravy but we just went back after a little over a year and they changed their recipe and it’s just really nothing special anymore (I won’t out them, they’re good people and the other food is still good, I think they’ve cut some things in the quality department on certain dishes to save money and keep prices down for the patrons). But now we need to know where to go instead! Anyone who says breadwinners seriously will get downvoted 😂

TWBS Previous Next First
-
---Esme’s perspective---
---Saturday, 11th of November, 2682 Terran Calendar---
---Southern England---
Fucking Sussex!
‘Can you send me to the Forth Valley?’
‘Oh, we can try… On an unrelated note, how’s your standard English? No problems in communicating?’
I should’ve just said ‘No, I have great difficulty in communicating in anything but Lallans Scots!’ instead of putting on my poshest English speech register to say ‘Marjorie dearest, would you be a lamb and pass another buttered scone… hold the raspberry jam, it’s far too spicy for me!’ which she told me she’d take as a ‘Yes.’
“This is an English language barracks. If you have been directed here in error, please make yourself known to barracks staff for reassignment.” plays a loud, prerecorded Welsh language announcement, over speakers.
They’re fucking rubbing it in!
“This is an English language barracks. If you have been directed here in error, please make yourself known to barracks staff for reassignment.” it repeats in Scots Gaelic.
“Ceci est une caserne Anglophone. Si vous avez été assigné ici par erreur, veuillez vous faire connaître auprès du personnel de la caserne pour une réaffectation.” it says in what I’m 90% sure is a French version of the same announcement (I can’t be certain, though, as that’s not one of my languages).
Looking at the crowds, queuing to get in, makes me regret asserting that I didn’t need transport here.
‘You shouldn’t be sending someone to War that you don’t trust to navigate themself from Galloway to Sussex!’ were my exact words.
I brushed off the recruitment officer saying that I’d be processed faster if I arrived on Military organised transport.
Well, standing here’s not gonna get me to the front of the queue now, is it!
I walk forward to join the massive throng of people, almost all of which look to be about my age.
It’s astonishing how short you feel, being an average height girl in a crowd of people!
178cm really isn’t all that much when you’ve got a not insignificant number of +2m guys here!
Even guys who are the average 188cm can make a girl feel short when their packed too close…
I see a few Neanderthal hunks… perhaps conscription won’t be all bad(!)
When I make it to the front of the line, the guy just stares expectantly at me like I’m supposed to already know what to do.
“Y’awright?… Err… mah nam’s Esme Reid…?” I say, hesitantly, in perfectly comprehensible speech.
“I’m sorry, would you repeat that?” he answers, looking at me like I just spoke to him in fucking Chinese!
“Greetings, gracious sir! You may kindly refer to me by the name ‘Esme Reid’!” I say, affecting my supercilious Southern English gentlewoman accent.
“Alright, Ms Reid. Please present your draft papers and identification.”
The balls they have to ask me to prove who I am when they’re the ones asking me to go off and fucking die for them!
I think about quipping that I should ask him to show me some proof that this is a legitimate Military installation sanctioned by the government of Sol… but think better of it…
Instead, I pull out my draft papers and my holopad, quickly getting up my identification app.
The man scans the code with his own holo and spends a few seconds glancing from his screen to my face and back.
Seeming satisfied that I’m not attempting to enlist under a false identity (for whatever strange reason a person might want to do that) he glances at my papers, says “Everything seems to be in order.” and waves a hand in front of a machine which whirs for half a second before spitting out a simple chain necklace with two little metal rectangles hanging off of it.
He hands it to me and says “This is your identification tag. Please check that the information on it is correct and, if it is, put it on and never take it off.”
I check the tag.
“You’ve got my name and birthday right…” I say, making a conscious effort to keep my speech register in that that a standard English speaker would consider acceptable “…don’t know about the regiment and serial number.”
“Those will be correct.” he says with a ‘move along’ tone.
I shrug, raise the dogtag over my head and drop it around my neck.
I walk on and he’s serving the girl behind me before I’ve even rounded the counter.
I’m ushered through the barracks, herded by the staff, until I reach a building labelled ‘Billet House 279’.
It doesn’t really look like I expected soldiers’ digs to look.
Definitely prefabbed but sort of has more the look of a uni hall than anything else… though I think it’s probably a bit much to expect that I’ll get a room to myself(!)
I follow the throng of draftees through to a wide open room, on the ground floor, that looks like it’s normally a cafeteria.
The camp attendants (who I’m guessing were in the same boat as us, not too long ago) direct us to stand along the left, right and nearside walls, keeping the back wall and centre of the room clear.
Everyone in place, there follows a few minutes of silence broken only by people whispering to one another.
Then, she enters the room.
Dark skinned and clad in green camo clothing, her scalp is easily visible between her cornrows with nary a hair out of place.
Her expression looks absolutely indifferent with just the slightest hint of a curled lip.
From the broadness and flatness of her facial features as well as her single mauve eye, she is clearly half Tshwane… though, you’d never guess that from her stature!
Female Tshwane average nearly 2m… the men are more like 2.2m!
She’s shorter than me!
She’s also built like a Sapiens, not the willowy thinness typical of Tshwane
I guess genetics interact in funny ways sometimes…
Based on her age, her Tshwane parent would probably have to have been one of the very first to be cloned back!
The other eye seems to have been ripped out at some point because in its place is a bionic and there’s a patch of hypopigmented scar tissue, forming a tear shape, at the right corner.
“Recruits… Welcome to the United Terran Coalition Infantry Trainin’ Camp, Graffham… My name is Warrant Officer Simone Sands… and I’ll be your drill instructor…” says the woman, cooly, speaking in a rough sounding, London accent.
The surname ‘Sands’ probably means her dad was the Tshwane (though not necessarily… she might have been given her mum’s surname… or it might be a coincidental English surname).
“…You all know why you’re here… Most of you’ve prob’ly already lost loved ones to this War… You are here to defend our right to exist… and I can’t think of a more worthy reason to fight than that…”
I’ve decided I like this woman… She may be English but I’ll try not to hold that against her(!)
“The first thing I need to tell all of you is that, by the end of your trainin’, you will NOT like me…” she says, as if reading my mind “…that’s OK. My job ain’t to be liked, my job ain’t to make friends… my job is to make soldiers!”
She casts her biological and bionic eyes around the room, letting her words hang in the air.
“Note… that I said ‘soldiers’… This ain’t Full Metal Jacket. This ain’t the 20th Century. There’ll be no Pvt Piles here!… I ain’t aimin’ to destroy your minds or your individuality. I ain’t goin’ to physic’ly and psychologic’ly abuse you into becomin’ robots or killers… I am makin’ you into soldiers… Regardless… this process will not be easy! In fact, it may well be the hardest thing you ever do!… As the face of this process, you will come to hate and resent me for it!… I hope for it! The more you hate me the more-DO YOU HAVE SOMETHIN’ TO SAY, PRIVATE?!”
Everyone in the room is startled by the authoritative woman breaking herself off to shout angrily at someone on the other side of the room.
“STEP FORWARD AND SPEAK SO EVERYONE CAN HEAR YOU!”
The boy that steps forward is tall, bulky and muscular with a handsome, half Neanderthal face… just my type!
Then he has to go and ruin it by opening his mouth.
“I was just saying… that I find it somewhat difficult to take you seriously as a commanding officer… You just seem a little bit… little.” says the boy in the poshest, smarmiest English drawl I’ve ever heard!
The woman does not shout, she does not scream, she doesn’t snarl or even purse her lips!
She just nods, as if considering his words, then asks “What’s your name, Soldier?”
“Rupert Forest.” responds the boy, proudly.
“And, how tall are you, Pvt Forest?” responds the woman, unimpressed
“195cm.” he answers.
“And, what’s your mass?” she asks.
“110kg.”
“I see, I see… So, by your logic… you’d make a better drill sergeant than me, would you? You’re 25cm taller and 35kg heavier, afterall!”
He smirks “I wouldn’t presume to say so, Ma’am…” in a way that definitely suggests that he thinks he would.
She seems to consider that for some moments before answering “Alright then, fight me for it!”
“I’m sorry…?” responds the poshboy.
“You heard me… Clearly, you got no respect for skill and experience but it seems like you must respect power… so fight me for it! You win, you get to train this lot, I win, you never question my authority again!”
Is this woman mad!?
She may be a soldier but this boy she just challenged is a half Neanderthal giant!
She’s gonna lose!
I do not want to be drilled by some snotty, privileged English brat who got here at the same time as I did and just couldn’t keep his fucking mouth shut!
Then again, I don’t really want to be drilled by a woman so delusional that she felt the best way to squash insubordination was to challenge a man she has no hope of beating, either!
The guy is clearly salivating over the power that’s just been slapped on the table in front of him as he answers “I accept your terms, Ms Sands…” with faux magnanimity.
There’s no way they’d let a Private run drills, is there? When he wins, someone just needs to go and complain and they’ll give us another (less stupid) drill sergeant… right?
He strips off his jacket to reveal a pair of thick, muscular arms that (in spite of his repulsive personality) are a thrilling sight.
He has to go and ruin it by flexing and posing, clearly revelling in the room’s worth of gasps he got when he revealed his arms… He obviously likes being the centre of attention.
“Done?” asks Sands, drily.
“If you still want to do this…” he says, smugly “…you could just concede defeat and I’m sure no one would hold it against you!”
Her lip curls as she answers “But… if I did that, no one would learn nothin’, now would they…”
He shrugs before launching himself at her without waiting for her to give the word to begin.
She whirls out of the way and he snatches at her, unsuccessfully, as his momentum carries him past.
“Lesson 1:…” she shouts while snapping into the space behind him and kicking out his knee “…size does not determine victory, strength does not determine victory…” levelling another powerful kick between his shoulderblades to bring him to the ground.
She backs off, allowing him to scramble to his feet and turn to face her, hunched in readiness and scowling.
“…Pvt Forest here looked at me with contempt on account of my small size and, though he didn’t say so, I’d guess that my rough accent, my lack of a graduate epithet and my lack of a penis also played a roll in his judgin’ me as less than!… He thought he could beat me, he probably still DOES, and, ’causa that, he didn’t respect my ability to lead…!”
Forest makes another lunge for the smaller woman, misses and is punished for it by being knocked back to the floor.
I’m agog as I watch this little woman… there’s no other word but toy with the giant man!
“…but victory does not care how big you are, how strong you are, how classy or educated you are or what’s in your pants or panties…!”
She dodges around his arm and pins his chest to the floor with her knee.
“Discipline and trainin’ determine victory!… Things that I have and Pvt Forest LACKS!… Things that ALL of you will acquire, over the next 8 months!!!” she turns her head down to the mountain of man she’s pinning to the floor “Concede, Private!”
The man shakes his head, trying in vain to leverage himself up.
“Alright then… Lesson 2: When faced with a resistant individual, compliance can be effectively enforced by the expedient of lockin’ their joints to induce PAIN!!!”
She grabs his thick arms by the wrists and pulls them backwards in a way they are not meant to bend!
He screams in agony!
“CONCEDE!!!… Don’t make me send you to the Medical Officer! It’d be inconvenient for BOTH of us if your pride makes you miss your first week of trainin’ while your arms heal!!!”
He holds out for two more seconds before screaming “I concede! I CONCEDE!!!”
She releases him and stands back up.
“On your feet, Soldier…” she growls down at him.
He stands back up, his face beet red.
“Are you ever goin’ to question my fitness to instruct again, Private?” she glares up at the humiliated giant.
“No.” he answers, gracelessly.
“No…?” she says as if waiting for something else.
Forest looks as confused as I am about what she’s expecting.
“No, Ma’am!” she snarls.
“No, Ma’am.”
“Good, we’ll work on your attitude, movin’ forward. Now, get back in line!”
The humiliated man picks up his civvy jacket and returns to the place he was called out from.
“Now, I don’t think I need to prattle on anymore about how you’re gonna hate me by the end of our time together, do I?… I think Pvt Forest helped me prove that point quite well, so I’ll move on… You will sleep in this buildin’, six to a room. Your rooms will be gender segregated. If you wish for a place to be… intimate with people of the opposite gender, you may request use of one of the conjugal rooms… I suggest you do the same if you want to be intimate with a same gender partner but that’s between you and your roommates! You will eat in this room at 0700hrs, 1200hrs and 1800hrs. Diet’ry requirements will be accommodated but, bare in mind, this ain’t your mummies’ and daddies’ kitchen! ‘This food is forbidden by my religion/personal ethics’ is a diet’ry requirement. ‘I am allergic to this food’ is a diet’ry requirement! ‘I don’t like how this food tastes’ is not(!)… In the mornin’s, you will be receivin’ lessons in lecture theatres, workshops and the like…”
“Oh great… just what I wanted after leaving school(!) More classrooms(!)” I mutter to myself.
Her head instantly wheels to me with unnerving precision.
“Someone else with somethin’ they’d like to say!?” she says, locking eyes with me, terrifyingly.
“No, Ms Sands!” I answer, instantly.
“Miss?! I’m not your bloody schoolteacher girl!!!”
Everyone laughs. Even Pvt Forest, like he wasn’t just humiliated himself, 2 minutes ago!
“Ma’am… err… Ma’am, no, Ma’am!!!” I say, doing my best to emulate the tone I’ve seen soldiers use in films.
She rolls her eye (it’s difficult to tell if the bionic rolls too) and says “Better… What’s your name, Private?”
“Ma’am, the Private’s name is Esme Reid, Ma’am!!!”
“Do you remember me tellin’ you this ain’t Full Metal Jacket?… You don’t need to scream when you talk to me, you don’t need to refer to yourself in third person and one ‘Ma’am’, when you’re done speakin’, is enough, Reid!”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
She points to her single, mauve eye, then to me and says “I’ll have my eye on you, Reid!”
Somehow, her tone sends a chill up my spine but I do my best not to show it.
She turns away and I release a silent sigh of relief.
“As I was sayin’… In your lectures you will learn the ins and outs of military theory; tactics, strategies, logistics etc. You will learn as much as we can tell you about the nature of the species we are fightin’; their capabilities, tendencies, political organisations and known weaknesses… bear in mind that First Contact weren’t much more than 4 years ago and we’ve been at War for almost all the intervenin’ time, so a lot of what we teach you will be little more than guesswork and hearsay from prisoners we’ve interrogated… The mornin’s’ll also be where you learn the particulars of the equipment you’ll be expected to be proficient with in the field. This includes firearms, plasmaweaponry and durasteel armour, as well as the tech you’ll likely encounter from the opposite side; kinetic pulse weapons, laser weapons, field emitters etc… I strongly suggest that no one allows word to get back to me that they’re not takin’ these classes seriously!… A stupid soldier is a dead soldier!”
She glares around the room, her eyes resting on me four a quarter of a second.
“…In the afternoons and evenin’s, you’ll be doing PT… that’s ‘Physical Trainin’’… soon to be every one of your two least favourite words in the English Language(!) “
I notice a wry smirk twist the mouths of a few of the camp attendants.
“In PT you will be drilled in agility, endurance, close quarters combat and coordinated marching… Five times over the comin’ 8 months, you and your trainin’ partner will be dropped into a remote bit of wilderness, somewhere on Earth, for five day practical survival experience. You will be given a beacon, to summon retrieval, but these are only to be used in cases of actual threat to life or bodily integrity… not because you’re feelin’ miserable!”
She takes a second to pause for breath.
“You get an allowance of 12 days off, over your time here… that’s two a month… These are subject to my approval and I may deny them for any reason, including no reason… so don’t piss me off!… You may not take more than 2 consecutive days leave at a time! Certain classes are mandatory and leave will not be approved on days they occur. If your allowance is spent, no more leave will be approved, barring a real emergency!… Now, for today, you are going to line up to have your maps and room keys downloaded onto your holos when your name is called, then you are going to have your bodies scanned for your armour measurements… at that point everyone with no uterus has the rest of the day free to settle in… If you have a uterus, you’ll need to report to medical to get your cycle paused! This is, I’m afraid, nonoptional… You are not prohibited from engaging in relations with your fellow recruits but you cannot be a soldier while you’re able to get pregnant. Attempts to circumvent this requirement in any way will land you in the Stockade!… After your cycle pause has been given, you’ll also have the rest of the day to settle in… Enjoy it! It’ll be the most downtime you get for a while!… Finally… I believe we have a 17 year old with us here… Pvt Taylor?”
A few people put their hands up, most looking confused.
“Pvt Oskar Taylor! The 17 year old?” she says, exasperated.
All but one of those with their hands up put them down.
The one remaining Pvt Taylor with his hand in the air has pale skin, black hair, brown eyes and a sharp featured face wearing a dour expression.
He stands even taller than Forest… Nearly 2m tall!
Though he’s not quite as heavily built, he’s certainly a good looking piece of boycandy!
“Pvt Taylor…” says Sands, her mouth breaking into a smile for the first time I’ve seen “…couldn’t wait to go off to War, could you(?)”
He mutters something but, while I can hear the power and deepness of his voice, I can’t make out a word he says.
“You’ll have to speak up, Taylor! Nobody’ll be able to hear you if you mumble.” points out Sands.
“I said I had some personal circumstances that made this the most sensible course of action for me, Ma’am.” says the tall, dark haired man, looking over her head rather than down at her and speaking in a grim monotone. He definitely loses boycandy points for the poshness of his accent, unfortunately…
“I see… I won’t pry into that but… you didn’t think of Officer Training? That’s the route that most people take when volunteering ahead of their conscription.”
He shakes his head “I thought of it and decided against it, Ma’am.”
“Oh? Why’s that, Pvt Taylor?”
“I didn’t believe I would make a good officer, Ma’am.” he answers simply.
She laughs “I wish every soldier could be as introspective, Taylor! I like you!… Unfortunately, bein’ a minor does mean that you can’t be put in a room with others… Sooo, that means you get a room to yourself… for the moment. Might sound cushy but before anyone else gets too jealous, bare in mind that privacy is the only advantage! His room will be a sixth the size of yours so its basic’ly a broomcupboard… the disadvantage will be severely reduced opportunity to socialise!… If that doesn’t sound doable, you can leave and come back when you turn 18, Taylor.”
“It’s acceptable, Ma’am.” he says without hesitating.
Yeah… it’s official… I don’t like him…
---later---
I rub the spot on my arm where the serum was thunked into me about 15 minutes ago.
Like with everything else about conscription, I get it… I understand the point…
But seeing the sense doesn’t mean I have to like it!
It’s not like I want to get pregnant (getting a nine month reprieve from service would be a fairly shitty reason for me to bring a child into the world) but it does feel like one last slap in the face to my personal autonomy that I’ve just had a cycle pause fucking mandated upon my body by the government!
As I draw near, door 1512 detects the key downloaded on my holo and unlocks
I open it and am greeted by a blonde girl, smiling broadly and instantly identifiable as brimming with ADHD energy.
“Hey there! My name’s Charlotte, it’s lovely to meet you!” says the girl, wrapping me in a hug without asking if I’m OK with that.
Her accent makes me wonder if everyone I meet here is going to be a posh toff!
She makes three of three of my fellow draftees!
“A pleasure, Charlotte… the name’s Esme…” I say, speaking Scottish accented standard English and gingerly patting her back.
“Oh, you’re Scottish…?” she says pulling herself off me with an expression that suggests meeting a Scottish person is just the most wonderful thing she could have imagined “…My great grandmother was from Edinburgh, where are you from?”
“Stranraer.” I answer.
She frowns “I don’t know it, I’m sorry!”
“I won’t hold it against you… Southwestern tip of Scotland? Where it nearly touches Ireland and the Man Peninsula?… ’Bout two and a half million people?”
“Oh, wooow! I don’t think I’ve ever met someone from a village before!” she says, seeming entirely oblivious to how that might be taken as an insult.
“Yeah… I guess it’s not that big.”
“Well…” she wraps me back in the hug and continues “…we’re the first ones to the room and that has to mean we’re going to be best friends!”
“I’m afraid my best friend’s name is Tamsin… the position is not open.” I say, firmly setting a boundary.
“I meant best bootcamp friends, silly!” she says, as if that should have gone without saying.
“Alright… I guess that positions open… but you’ve not got the job yet(!)” I quip, warming up a little to the ball of posh English energy.
She pulls back and beams at me “Alright then, for my first act as best bootcamp friend candidate, let me show you the view!… That should earn me some points!”
She says, leading me into the room that’s so small it makes me doubt that that goody-two-shoes 17 year old can possibly have one a sixth this size!
She leads me to the window and spends a few moments making sure I’m positioned just right before she draws back the curtain.
The view is quite breathtaking… rolling hills of snow blanketed mammoth steppe, lit by evening sun, with barely any of the sprawling military camp visible.
Though, you can see one of the tallest structures ever built by Humanity… the Sussex Space elevator… several times the Earth’s own diameter, the ‘top’, if you can even call it that, is a fifth of the way from here to Luna! …And… in 8 months, I’m going to be riding it, all the way up, to get on a troop transport.
“Look! See! There’s a herd of aurochs over on that hill! You know this place used to be a national park, before even Unification or the Reset! It’s called the South Downs! My mum told me we had family from here… obviously I never met any of them because they would have left hundreds of years ago!…”
The bubbly girl talks and talks and… just keeps talking… but I don’t particularly mind.
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Hello! I've been getting back into modding, but when I was trying to look for mods I used for making mob farms, there was one that I just couldn't remember the name of. It was a really simple way to make mob farms that didn't actually spawn in anything, and instead you had to build a pyramid, kind of like a beacon. I'm pretty sure the name started with a Z? The name that comes to mind is Zoot, but I can't find any results for that. Any help would be greatly appreciated.

That’s appreciated, I’m grateful for your words and responses. I promise to control my emotions this time.
Someone mentioned I write with rage and callousness. Even if those were true, my intentions aren’t felt like that in person.
I simply don’t have anger to store. It’s bad juju than acknowledging the neurotic parts I possess which are turning me in like a mf mess. But on the flip side, I can be brutally honest in addressing you.
There’s an insurmountable fear that either one of us might break hearts again. Learning to love is an obvious choice I have, learning to forgive myself and the dark parts which affected you entirely is another. I don’t want to repeat what’s previously sore for you. I don’t want you to feel the same thing you caused me- confusion.
But also my days are falling apart and this means I’m in need of assistance. I can’t do it like how I used to and I’m scared that after today things would dwell badly and strain my hopes of the future.
You’ve seen the worst from me, I guess. It was too much for you to handle and I’m sorry. I understand where you’re coming from and I’d never want to encounter them myself.
And maybe you are right I can’t control what you think when stuff like that are implied to happen. It’s another reason to move posts, tbh. Time to get better. Time to be real. Time to acknowledge the urges we have, you’re honing to achieve your dreams and aspirations.
My intentions are the same. I want to keep the friendship we have if you haven’t thought about fully withdrawing from it. I still want to talk to you when I get better-not to influence you on anything but to think about the good bits to remain while the bad ones can leave or can be worked on since we have maintained the same amicable gestures before.
You know why it’s healthier to view things from this perspective because we’re free to love and let go. We’re free to choose and stay.
I won’t leave the friend post, that’s for certain…dear friend. Until then-