How to wire shunt trip breaker

1. It's waaaaaaaaaaay to overpriced. The only "expensive" component would be the display, and even it can't be THAT expensive. It can only go up to 90hz and has a 94° FOV (words of a Valve Index snob) and uses a Micro-OLED display, making It much smaller, and therefor, much cheaper, due to there being less material used. Same with all the other components for the same reason. I would be If it was something like ~400€, but 1300€ for JUST THE HEADSET??? Plus, it's wired.
   
2. It's not compatibile with people under 25 years old. Bigscreen really didn't think about that, did they? This is because it has a set IPD. Most people are born with and IPD of around 51mm and slowly grows to anywere between 59mm and 74mm, with the averege being about 64mm, by the time they enter their 20s. BTW, it's not like they deliberitly chose this, sincer in one of the trailers (I can't find it on YouTube) there is a girl playing with the Beyond. Even for people who ARE above the age of 25, the Bigscreen Beyond is un-shareble, unless the IPD of the person that they want to share it with is the EXACT SAME.
   

I'm not calling out Bigscreen because it affects me specifically. I'm calling them out because these problema, especially the second one, will affect the experience of millions around the world who buy, or more specifically can't buy, this VR headset.
I think that Bigscreen did a very good job with the Beyond, but the need to lower the cost and make an IPD slider, or atleast an in-software IPD slider.
P.S. it doesn't even have a proper strap, so your pretty much paying for the headset.
P.S. #2 They could likely get away with a 1920*1920 per-eye resolution, simply because of how tiny the display is.

How is everyone using their mines/booby traps? Any tips, tricks or suggestions?
I've been looking to read up on the various explosives in SE4 and SE5 but I can't seem to find much online. Out of the Teller, S-Mine, Trip Mine, C4, which ones are the most effective? I've seen people in survival "stack" the same or different types of mines together. Does that make the blast stronger or are you just wasting a trap by putting it too close to another one?
I've been playing co-op survival in SE4 and SE5 and just curious if anyone out there has any cool tricks on how to make these more effective.

While travelling might be exciting, lugging around heavy luggage is frequently inconvenient. But now that luggage courier services have become more popular, tourists have a practical way to make their journeys less complicated. In this blog post, we’ll look at how luggage courier services have transformed the travel sector by providing hassle-free and effective replacements for manual baggage handling.
The Need for Convenient Travel Solutions: Managing luggage can be a difficult effort when travelling. Travellers face a variety of difficulties that can detract from their entire experience, such as paying overweight baggage fees and carrying large bags. In this section, we’ll look at some common problems tourists run into and why more people are turning to practical travel services like luggage delivery services to get their stuff where it needs to go.
Fees for Overweight Baggage: The high costs associated with overweight baggage are one of the most annoying parts of flight travel. For checked-in and carry-on baggage, many airlines have severe weight restrictions, and going over those limitations can result in astronomical fees. This adds stress and uncertainty to the check-in procedure as well as straining travellers’ wallets. Travellers can avoid paying overweight baggage fees by using luggage courier services that are focused on transporting luggage because they offer a separate and affordable option for shipping their possessions to their destination.
Travellers should also be concerned about the possibility of lost or damaged luggage. Each day, airlines handle tens of thousands of luggage, and regrettably, mistakes do occur. It can be upsetting to lose priceless items or have them arrive damaged, which can interfere with trip plans. The security and safety of goods over the entire route are prioritised by luggage courier services that specialise in transporting luggage. These services guarantee that tourists’ luggage is handled with care and arrives at the destination unharmed thanks to extensive tracking systems and insurance coverage.
Enormous Wait Periods at the Airport: Especially during the busiest travel times, we have all felt the irritation of standing in long lines at the airport. It can take a lot of time and effort to check bags, wait while they are weighed and tagged, and then pick them up at the destination. Delivering luggage using luggage courier services offers a hassle-free option. To avoid check-in lines and lengthy waits, travellers can simply arrange for their bags to be picked up from their doorway. Travellers can save time and arrive at the airport in peace by using these services.
Carrying heavy bags is cumbersome Physical exhaustion can soon set in when carrying large baggage through congested train stations, airports, or city streets. It restricts mobility and places needless pressure on the voyage of the traveller. Luggage courier services that are focused on delivering luggage completely alleviate this stress. Travellers can pack lightly and comfortably when they choose door-to-door service because they will receive their bags at the destination of their choice. Instead of being burdened by large suitcases, this allows them to concentrate on having fun on their trip.
In conclusion, handling one’s luggage presents a variety of difficulties for travellers. These problems can have a big effect on the travel experience, from steep overweight baggage fees and the possibility of lost or damaged things to protracted airport lines and the hassle of lugging heavy luggage. In order to address these issues and give travellers a stress-free travel experience, luggage courier services that are experts in transporting luggage have become a practical and effective alternative. Travellers can travel easily, avoid paying exorbitant costs, enjoy improved protection for their things, and save time at the airport by making use of these services.

I used to work at a reputable audit company. Those familiar with me will recognize the company. I'm certain my colleagues will come across this on Reddit, as I've seen them browse the site during office hours.
It's been approximately two days since the incident, and I can't shake the feeling of being watched. Each passing night, the shadows in my room seem to grow darker and have more substance. I fear I'm losing my sanity.
My fellow coworkers, as you read this, I'm uncertain if I'll still be alive. However, please, heed my warning. You must put an end to this curse before it's too late.
It happened on the night of June 23rd. It was around 11 PM, and anyone passing by the office building would have noticed that only the lights on the third floor were on. My colleague Awais and I were the only ones working late, as we had an upcoming deadline and, thus, had some unfinished tasks. It wouldn't be fair to solely blame us for the delay, as our client had taken their sweet time in providing the necessary data. Such was the life of an auditor.
My fingers glided across the keyboard of my laptop, the sound of typing echoed through the empty floor. Both of us were surviving on caffeine at this point, evident from the scattered paper cups on the table.
In the midst of entering an Excel formula, a faint scraping sound caught my attention. I had paused briefly to double-check my calculations, and that's when I heard it. As soon as I paid attention to it, it abruptly stopped. I looked up from my laptop, surveying the dimly lit office, but found no source for the sound. Awais, sitting to my right, seemed too busy with his work to notice. Shaking my head, I returned to my tasks, convinced that I had simply imagined it. However, as I looked back at the laptop screen, the scraping noise resumed, faint but distinct.
I immediately stood up, and once again, the sound stopped. I scanned the room and heard Awais making a strange noise. I turned toward him, and he burst into laughter.
"Bruh, you should have seen your face," Awais said, struggling to contain his amusement.
"Dude, that scared the hell out of me. Don't pull such pranks when we're up against a deadline."
"Yeah, yeah. You definitely need some sleep. You're losing it right now."
"I'll get some rest once I finish this," I replied, plopping back into my chair and letting out a sigh.
"I hate my job."
"Not much longer, right? This is our last day. Do you think our replacements will be able to complete this?"
"Probably. We gave them a thorough briefing about the work earlier."
I looked at Awais, and he slowly closed his laptop.
"You're leaving, huh?"
"I have a lot on my mind right now. I need to take a step back."
"Sure, I'll probably leave in a few minutes as well. You go ahead."
Awais started gathering his belongings, and in the midst of packing, he asked, "Have you heard from Asjad Bashir? He left the company a week ago, and we haven't heard a word from him."
"Same here. I've tried contacting him multiple times, but his phone was turned off."
"You think it's related to that rumored curse?"
"Nonsense. Do you believe in such things?"
"I don't, but lately, it seems more than just a rumor, doesn't it? They say those who leave the company vanish."
"Asjad not answering our calls would definitely have a logical explanation, rather than some absurd curse. He did say that his phone was causing all sorts of problems before he left"
"Sure, but what about Sarah and Ahmed?"
"They both had plans to move to China, so it's possible that they haven't had a chance to reach out to us yet."
"Junaid, it's been three months, and Ahmed, your work buddy, hasn't even contacted you."
"I understand that his silence is bothering you, but I have faith that he will eventually get in touch with us."
Awais didn't seem satisfied with my response. He stared blankly at the vacant office space.
"Don't worry about anything. You'll be fine. That rumor is just a tactic to keep us in the company," I assured him, giving his shoulder a pat.
"I want to believe that too. Anyway, I'm leaving now. Let's grab lunch sometime and talk shit about this company again," Awais said weakly, letting out a faint laugh.
"Sure thing, buddy."
We shook hands firmly, and Awais picked up his bag, heading towards the elevator. The doors closed, plunging the space into darkness once again, I returned to my desk and resumed my work.
About 20 minutes later, I stretched my arms.
"Man, the newbies are going to have a field day with this assignment."
I closed my laptop, preparing to pack up. I gathered the empty paper cups and tossed them into the nearby bin.
As I stood by the elevator, I took one last glance at the empty office.
"Never thought I'd witness this day, especially not after four years of being here."
With that, I stepped into the elevator. The doors closed, and the descent began, the floor numbers gradually ticking down from three.
Surprisingly, the elevator jolted and came to a sudden stop.
"Well, that was quicker than expected," I muttered.
I looked at the elevator panel, only to find the lower portion of "2" and the upper portion of "1".
"What in the world?"
Realizing that the doors hadn't opened, I pressed the buttons and attempted to force them apart, but to no avail. Of all the times, it had to be today. I decided to call the security guard, Kashif, I picked up my phone, and at that moment, the elevator doors opened.
Before me lay a dark corridor, without a single light. Glancing back at the panel, I noticed that it still displayed the same numbers. I tapped the panel and pressed the buttons, but nothing happened.
Letting out a sigh, I adjusted the strap of my bag and stepped out of the elevator. As soon as I did, the doors closed shut. I turned around, only to see the elevator panel indicating that it was descending to the ground level.
"You've got to be kidding me."
I found myself in an unfamiliar corridor. It didn't match any floor layout I was familiar with. With my phone's flashlight activated, I cautiously proceeded forward, noticing a partially open door a few meters away. In a final desperate attempt, I pushed the elevator button, but it remained fixed on the ground level. Admitting defeat, I slowly approached the door.
Carefully, I pushed the door open, my body on high alert for reasons I couldn't quite understand. Illuminating the room with my phone's light, I discovered empty workstations and chairs. I scanned the area, moving the light from one corner to another. In all my four years at the company, I had never seen this room before. I searched for a light switch, however, there were none, and I realized there were no windows either. Odd.
The only sound that came in the room was the sound of rushing air from the ventilation system. As I approached the first workstation, I noticed the name "Akhtar Ali" taped to the desk, accompanied by a photo of a man in his late thirties, I assumed the man in was Akhtar. Strangely enough, I had never seen or met him in the office before. I directed my flashlight towards the adjacent desk, where the name 'Parveen Nabil' was written—a name I had never heard in the office either.
Something felt off. I hurriedly passed by each table, each taped with a name tag and a picture of the person assigned to it. As I approached the end of the table, a particular name caught my attention. There was no mistaking it. Moving closer, I confirmed that 'Asjad Bashir' was written there, accompanied by a picture taken on his last day of work.
I took a step back from the table, feeling uneasy at what I had just looked at. Did the office maintain some bizarre memorial for all the staff members who had left? It sounded absurd, but that's exactly what was before me.
There were two desks next to Asjad's. I moved towards it, making me shiver at what I saw. The desks had mine and Awais' names taped on. What's more shocking was that the picture of either of us was the ones we took a couple of hours ago, when everyone had left.
"What in the world is going on? This is madness," I muttered.
I knew I had to leave. Something was severely wrong. At the far end of the room, there was another door. I approached it and cautiously opened it. Immediately, a horrendous, rotting smell invaded my nostrils, nearly causing me to throw up. Covering my nose, I took a step forward but tripped over something and stumbled to the floor. In the process, my phone was thrown a few feet away, its light illuminating the room. As I slowly rose, I noticed an arm lying next to my feet. Startled, I stood up, only to be confronted with a horrifying sight.
The floor was covered in dried blood, and several hooks with chains dangled from the ceiling. Lifeless bodies hung from those hooks, each with their mouths impaled on a hook. Limbs were strewn across the floor, as every body had been gruesomely dismembered.
I began to hyperventilate. What in God's name was I witnessing? This was sheer madness. Trembling, I reached for my phone, and as I retrieved it, I recognized the first body—the resemblance was unmistakable, it was Asjad Bashir. The corpse had decomposed slightly, but the face was still recognizable.
Three rooms stood at the end of the room, one of which was illuminated. I hurriedly made my way toward it, peeking through the doors' small window. Inside, a huge, obese man stood, easily seven feet tall and weighing over 500 pounds. His body was covered in scars and stitches, with a prominent red scar across his bald head. Gripping a massive meat cleaver, he was busy dismembering a lifeless figure on a table before him. With each strike, limbs fell off, and blood sprayed in all directions. I couldn't see the face of the body from my position.
"Gotta love it when the little fishy walks right into my hands," he chuckled, his voice hoarse.
Shocked and terrified, I stepped away from the door, realizing I needed to escape this place.
I heard movement in the room and quickly ducked into the next room. Just as I slightly closed the door behind me, the man emerged. Although I couldn't see what he was doing, I heard the sound of chains rattling and the piercing of flesh.
Footsteps echoed again, and it seemed the man was leaving. The footsteps halted, followed by the man sniffing the air, chuckling with delight.
"Oh boy, oh boy, looks like another little fishy was wandering around here. I do love me some good hide and seek."
With that, it sounded like he exited the slaughter room and entered the memorial room. Gathering my courage, I left the room I had hidden in, refraining from using my phone's flashlight to avoid being spotted. I used the light coming from the butcher's room to navigate my way to the butcher's room.
The room was a blood-splattered chaos. In the center stood a large table, with limbs on it from the previous victim. I frantically searched the room for a key, a button, anything that could help me escape.
But there was nothing. Overwhelmed with despair, I collapsed onto the floor.
"I don't want to die. I don't want to die."
All hope seemed lost. That monster was sure to return any minute and kill me. At that moment, I noticed a large finger hanging on a cleaver keychain from one of the walls. I got up and grabbed it.
Then, I heard the door behind me creak open, and I felt a force pulling me upright.
"Well, well, the little fishy has strayed too far from the fishing net."
I turned and saw one of the ugliest faces I had ever seen, grinning at me. I struggled to break free from his grip, but he was too strong.
"Oh, the little fishy is putting up a fight? I do love me some strong fish."
He flashed a toothy grin and threw me onto the table. Placing his enormous hand on my neck, he began to strangle me.
"Now, playtime is over, fishy. Please die for me and create the music of death."
He brought his face closer to mine, a sadistic smile spreading across his lips. I clawed at his hands, but his grip tightened. I gasped for air and that made the man laugh.
"Give me more music fish."
Summoning my last ounce of strength, I clenched the cleaver keychain tightly and drove it into his eye with all my might.
The man howled in agony and stumbled back. Coughing and gasping for air, I scrambled to my feet. With one goal in mind to escape, I sprinted out of the room.
"You piece of shit! I'll skin you alive!" roared the butcher.
I took out my phone and illuminated my path with its light. Hastily finding the door to the memorial room, I entered it. The room was now a mess, with overturned tables. I didn't have much time to assess the full extent of the butcher's rampage. I exited the memorial room, rushed down the corridor, and reached the elevator.
Frantically pressing the buttons, I received no response. "Come on, come on!"
Despite multiple attempts, the elevator remained motionless. I heard a loud explosion behind me, signaling that the man had entered the memorial room. Ready to give up, I remembered the giant finger I had picked up. I decided to use it to press the elevator button, and to my relief, the elevator started moving up.
The elevator doors opened and with that, the memorial room doors as well. The light from the elevator shone in the corridor and I saw him running towards me.
"Get here, you little fish."
He raised his cleaver and hurled it towards me. I used the finger and pressed the ground level. The doors closed, stopping the cleaver from impaling me.
The elevator descended and stopped at the ground level.
The doors opened, revealing the reception area of the office, with the security guard Kashif sitting there. As he saw me, he quickly stood and approached.
"What happened to you? You're a complete mess, and what's with all the blood?" he asked, bewildered.
"There... I... He..." I struggled to form any words.
With that, I bolted out of the front door. I ran and ran, not even bothering to call a taxi. I needed to distance myself from that place and everything I had witnessed.
I reached my house in no time as I didn't live too far from the office, I locked all the doors and hid in my room. I don't know how, but somehow I managed to fall asleep. The next morning, I attempted to call Awais, but received no response. I tried calling the security guard, Kashif, but his phone was powered off. Each number I attempted to call yielded the same result—no connection.
During all this confusion, I noticed a text message notification on my phone. It was from Awais, sent to me just after he left the office last night. The message read:
"Junaid, what the hell is going on in this office? Why the hell are there dead bodies being kept here?"

I used to work at a reputable audit company. Those familiar with me will recognize the company. I'm certain my colleagues will come across this on Reddit, as I've seen them browse the site during office hours.
It's been approximately two days since the incident, and I can't shake the feeling of being watched. Each passing night, the shadows in my room seem to grow darker and have more substance. I fear I'm losing my sanity.
My fellow coworkers, as you read this, I'm uncertain if I'll still be alive. However, please, heed my warning. You must put an end to this curse before it's too late.
It happened on the night of June 23rd. It was around 11 PM, and anyone passing by the office building would have noticed that only the lights on the third floor were on. My colleague Awais and I were the only ones working late, as we had an upcoming deadline and, thus, had some unfinished tasks. It wouldn't be fair to solely blame us for the delay, as our client had taken their sweet time in providing the necessary data. Such was the life of an auditor.
My fingers glided across the keyboard of my laptop, the sound of typing echoed through the empty floor. Both of us were surviving on caffeine at this point, evident from the scattered paper cups on the table.
In the midst of entering an Excel formula, a faint scraping sound caught my attention. I had paused briefly to double-check my calculations, and that's when I heard it. As soon as I paid attention to it, it abruptly stopped. I looked up from my laptop, surveying the dimly lit office, but found no source for the sound. Awais, sitting to my right, seemed too busy with his work to notice. Shaking my head, I returned to my tasks, convinced that I had simply imagined it. However, as I looked back at the laptop screen, the scraping noise resumed, faint but distinct.
I immediately stood up, and once again, the sound stopped. I scanned the room and heard Awais making a strange noise. I turned toward him, and he burst into laughter.
"Bruh, you should have seen your face," Awais said, struggling to contain his amusement.
"Dude, that scared the hell out of me. Don't pull such pranks when we're up against a deadline."
"Yeah, yeah. You definitely need some sleep. You're losing it right now."
"I'll get some rest once I finish this," I replied, plopping back into my chair and letting out a sigh.
"I hate my job."
"Not much longer, right? This is our last day. Do you think our replacements will be able to complete this?"
"Probably. We gave them a thorough briefing about the work earlier."
I looked at Awais, and he slowly closed his laptop.
"You're leaving, huh?"
"I have a lot on my mind right now. I need to take a step back."
"Sure, I'll probably leave in a few minutes as well. You go ahead."
Awais started gathering his belongings, and in the midst of packing, he asked, "Have you heard from Asjad Bashir? He left the company a week ago, and we haven't heard a word from him."
"Same here. I've tried contacting him multiple times, but his phone was turned off."
"You think it's related to that rumored curse?"
"Nonsense. Do you believe in such things?"
"I don't, but lately, it seems more than just a rumor, doesn't it? They say those who leave the company vanish."
"Asjad not answering our calls would definitely have a logical explanation, rather than some absurd curse. He did say that his phone was causing all sorts of problems before he left"
"Sure, but what about Sarah and Ahmed?"
"They both had plans to move to China, so it's possible that they haven't had a chance to reach out to us yet."
"Junaid, it's been three months, and Ahmed, your work buddy, hasn't even contacted you."
"I understand that his silence is bothering you, but I have faith that he will eventually get in touch with us."
Awais didn't seem satisfied with my response. He stared blankly at the vacant office space.
"Don't worry about anything. You'll be fine. That rumor is just a tactic to keep us in the company," I assured him, giving his shoulder a pat.
"I want to believe that too. Anyway, I'm leaving now. Let's grab lunch sometime and talk shit about this company again," Awais said weakly, letting out a faint laugh.
"Sure thing, buddy."
We shook hands firmly, and Awais picked up his bag, heading towards the elevator. The doors closed, plunging the space into darkness once again, I returned to my desk and resumed my work.
About 20 minutes later, I stretched my arms.
"Man, the newbies are going to have a field day with this assignment."
I closed my laptop, preparing to pack up. I gathered the empty paper cups and tossed them into the nearby bin.
As I stood by the elevator, I took one last glance at the empty office.
"Never thought I'd witness this day, especially not after four years of being here."
With that, I stepped into the elevator. The doors closed, and the descent began, the floor numbers gradually ticking down from three.
Surprisingly, the elevator jolted and came to a sudden stop.
"Well, that was quicker than expected," I muttered.
I looked at the elevator panel, only to find the lower portion of "2" and the upper portion of "1".
"What in the world?"
Realizing that the doors hadn't opened, I pressed the buttons and attempted to force them apart, but to no avail. Of all the times, it had to be today. I decided to call the security guard, Kashif, I picked up my phone, and at that moment, the elevator doors opened.
Before me lay a dark corridor, without a single light. Glancing back at the panel, I noticed that it still displayed the same numbers. I tapped the panel and pressed the buttons, but nothing happened.
Letting out a sigh, I adjusted the strap of my bag and stepped out of the elevator. As soon as I did, the doors closed shut. I turned around, only to see the elevator panel indicating that it was descending to the ground level.
"You've got to be kidding me."
I found myself in an unfamiliar corridor. It didn't match any floor layout I was familiar with. With my phone's flashlight activated, I cautiously proceeded forward, noticing a partially open door a few meters away. In a final desperate attempt, I pushed the elevator button, but it remained fixed on the ground level. Admitting defeat, I slowly approached the door.
Carefully, I pushed the door open, my body on high alert for reasons I couldn't quite understand. Illuminating the room with my phone's light, I discovered empty workstations and chairs. I scanned the area, moving the light from one corner to another. In all my four years at the company, I had never seen this room before. I searched for a light switch, however, there were none, and I realized there were no windows either. Odd.
The only sound that came in the room was the sound of rushing air from the ventilation system. As I approached the first workstation, I noticed the name "Akhtar Ali" taped to the desk, accompanied by a photo of a man in his late thirties, I assumed the man in was Akhtar. Strangely enough, I had never seen or met him in the office before. I directed my flashlight towards the adjacent desk, where the name 'Parveen Nabil' was written—a name I had never heard in the office either.
Something felt off. I hurriedly passed by each table, each taped with a name tag and a picture of the person assigned to it. As I approached the end of the table, a particular name caught my attention. There was no mistaking it. Moving closer, I confirmed that 'Asjad Bashir' was written there, accompanied by a picture taken on his last day of work.
I took a step back from the table, feeling uneasy at what I had just looked at. Did the office maintain some bizarre memorial for all the staff members who had left? It sounded absurd, but that's exactly what was before me.
There were two desks next to Asjad's. I moved towards it, making me shiver at what I saw. The desks had mine and Awais' names taped on. What's more shocking was that the picture of either of us was the ones we took a couple of hours ago, when everyone had left.
"What in the world is going on? This is madness," I muttered.
I knew I had to leave. Something was severely wrong. At the far end of the room, there was another door. I approached it and cautiously opened it. Immediately, a horrendous, rotting smell invaded my nostrils, nearly causing me to throw up. Covering my nose, I took a step forward but tripped over something and stumbled to the floor. In the process, my phone was thrown a few feet away, its light illuminating the room. As I slowly rose, I noticed an arm lying next to my feet. Startled, I stood up, only to be confronted with a horrifying sight.
The floor was covered in dried blood, and several hooks with chains dangled from the ceiling. Lifeless bodies hung from those hooks, each with their mouths impaled on a hook. Limbs were strewn across the floor, as every body had been gruesomely dismembered.
I began to hyperventilate. What in God's name was I witnessing? This was sheer madness. Trembling, I reached for my phone, and as I retrieved it, I recognized the first body—the resemblance was unmistakable, it was Asjad Bashir. The corpse had decomposed slightly, but the face was still recognizable.
Three rooms stood at the end of the room, one of which was illuminated. I hurriedly made my way toward it, peeking through the doors' small window. Inside, a huge, obese man stood, easily seven feet tall and weighing over 500 pounds. His body was covered in scars and stitches, with a prominent red scar across his bald head. Gripping a massive meat cleaver, he was busy dismembering a lifeless figure on a table before him. With each strike, limbs fell off, and blood sprayed in all directions. I couldn't see the face of the body from my position.
"Gotta love it when the little fishy walks right into my hands," he chuckled, his voice hoarse.
Shocked and terrified, I stepped away from the door, realizing I needed to escape this place.
I heard movement in the room and quickly ducked into the next room. Just as I slightly closed the door behind me, the man emerged. Although I couldn't see what he was doing, I heard the sound of chains rattling and the piercing of flesh.
Footsteps echoed again, and it seemed the man was leaving. The footsteps halted, followed by the man sniffing the air, chuckling with delight.
"Oh boy, oh boy, looks like another little fishy was wandering around here. I do love me some good hide and seek."
With that, it sounded like he exited the slaughter room and entered the memorial room. Gathering my courage, I left the room I had hidden in, refraining from using my phone's flashlight to avoid being spotted. I used the light coming from the butcher's room to navigate my way to the butcher's room.
The room was a blood-splattered chaos. In the center stood a large table, with limbs on it from the previous victim. I frantically searched the room for a key, a button, anything that could help me escape.
But there was nothing. Overwhelmed with despair, I collapsed onto the floor.
"I don't want to die. I don't want to die."
All hope seemed lost. That monster was sure to return any minute and kill me. At that moment, I noticed a large finger hanging on a cleaver keychain from one of the walls. I got up and grabbed it.
Then, I heard the door behind me creak open, and I felt a force pulling me upright.
"Well, well, the little fishy has strayed too far from the fishing net."
I turned and saw one of the ugliest faces I had ever seen, grinning at me. I struggled to break free from his grip, but he was too strong.
"Oh, the little fishy is putting up a fight? I do love me some strong fish."
He flashed a toothy grin and threw me onto the table. Placing his enormous hand on my neck, he began to strangle me.
"Now, playtime is over, fishy. Please die for me and create the music of death."
He brought his face closer to mine, a sadistic smile spreading across his lips. I clawed at his hands, but his grip tightened. I gasped for air and that made the man laugh.
"Give me more music fish."
Summoning my last ounce of strength, I clenched the cleaver keychain tightly and drove it into his eye with all my might.
The man howled in agony and stumbled back. Coughing and gasping for air, I scrambled to my feet. With one goal in mind to escape, I sprinted out of the room.
"You piece of shit! I'll skin you alive!" roared the butcher.
I took out my phone and illuminated my path with its light. Hastily finding the door to the memorial room, I entered it. The room was now a mess, with overturned tables. I didn't have much time to assess the full extent of the butcher's rampage. I exited the memorial room, rushed down the corridor, and reached the elevator.
Frantically pressing the buttons, I received no response. "Come on, come on!"
Despite multiple attempts, the elevator remained motionless. I heard a loud explosion behind me, signaling that the man had entered the memorial room. Ready to give up, I remembered the giant finger I had picked up. I decided to use it to press the elevator button, and to my relief, the elevator started moving up.
The elevator doors opened and with that, the memorial room doors as well. The light from the elevator shone in the corridor and I saw him running towards me.
"Get here, you little fish."
He raised his cleaver and hurled it towards me. I used the finger and pressed the ground level. The doors closed, stopping the cleaver from impaling me.
The elevator descended and stopped at the ground level.
The doors opened, revealing the reception area of the office, with the security guard Kashif sitting there. As he saw me, he quickly stood and approached.
"What happened to you? You're a complete mess, and what's with all the blood?" he asked, bewildered.
"There... I... He..." I struggled to form any words.
With that, I bolted out of the front door. I ran and ran, not even bothering to call a taxi. I needed to distance myself from that place and everything I had witnessed.
I reached my house in no time as I didn't live too far from the office, I locked all the doors and hid in my room. I don't know how, but somehow I managed to fall asleep. The next morning, I attempted to call Awais, but received no response. I tried calling the security guard, Kashif, but his phone was powered off. Each number I attempted to call yielded the same result—no connection.
During all this confusion, I noticed a text message notification on my phone. It was from Awais, sent to me just after he left the office last night. The message read:
"Junaid, what the hell is going on in this office? Why the hell are there dead bodies being kept here?"

Trying to book a flight with Air Asia to go to Siem Reap from Bangkok. The booking goes smoothly until I get to the payment in which it declines every method I have tried.
​
I live in Korea and have tried 2 different Korean cards plus an American credit card and it denies every one saying to call the bank. I called the bank for the American card and the bank told me that it's an issue with the company not accepting the card and not because of anything with the bank. The agent told me to call AirAsia but I can't find a phone number for them..
​
The funny thing is we were able to purchase round-trip tickets from Seoul to Bangkok but for some reason, there is an issue with getting these tickets. Does anyone know how I can get this payment to go through cause I am getting close to booking tickets through Airpaz or Kiwi

Just a warning this post will be poorly written and is just me bouncing observations and ideas, so sorry in advance if this is all over the place.
Although I dislike this theory I don't think we can completely rule out the fact that they may be in purgatory and are there to either suffer or come to terms with something to figure out how to move on.
All of them seem to have experienced deep trauma,
Boydd has PTSD and so does his wife assumably.
Kenny and his mother has their fathehusband who had dementia.
Jims family lost their child.
Fatima lost her father and claimed that before she suffered from serious depression.
Father Contry had that traumatic experience with the kid and beat someone to death (I may be misremembering) then parked his car on a bride and was about to jump off but heard a voice saying to keep on driving.
Kristi's fiance is a heroin addict.
I was thinking what if they are in fact all dead and when they die their memories are manipulated and changed into thinking that they got back there by accident. They have all gone there because they are dealing with extreme trauma and need to come to terms with it by fulfilling some task and going through torment of some sort to deal with the trauma and process before moving on.
Jim and his family may were going on a holiday and was about get divorced and Jade and his friend were high/drugdriving behind a wheel, what if the crash actually happened before they got to Fromsville?
Kenny and his mum were driving after finding his dad after one of his episodes, what if they died from some type of comotion in the process?
What if Father Contry jumped off that bridge and in Fromsville he finally died because he came clean about what he did and in some way redeemed himself in the process?
Kristi, not sure why she is there but maybe her fiance is there because of a overdose from her dying in the real world and they cannot remember?
Boyd and his family were all going on a trip, what if they crashed?
What if Fatima killed herself?
Theres also civil war soldiers.
Anyway as I said before I hate this theory but I don't think we can completely rule it out.
Its interesting though that trauma seems to be closely tied in with the people who end up in From. They are going through their own form of personal hell before they arrive. Maybe the place feeds off it and Father Contry was killed because he let go of his trauma in those moments???
Anyway what are your thoughts?

Had a 1.5g shroom trip few weeks back and I think I want to try lsd. Now how would the dosing compare to shrooms. I also heard that bad lsd trips are one of if not the worst bad drug experience you can have if you have a bad trip is this true cuz I used to have anxiety issues. Thanks 🙏

Link to part 2
https://www.reddit.com/nosleep/comments/13qcl3m/the_big_rock_candy_mountain_book_2_finding/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=android_app&utm_name=androidcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button
Well, this is going to be a little different.
First thing I want to say is that Kev will be back. I’m not the type to sugar coat things, he’s in a pretty sorry state, but he’s going to pull through. He’s a tough bastard.
In case you haven’t clued in yet, it’s Mike, I might not be as much of a wordsmith as Kev but I think I can keep your interest.
She was about five foot four, pale greasy skin and pitch colored hair that was just about to cross the double line from shiny into gross. Early thirties I’d guess, but with the strange shit Kev and I have gotten ourselves into she could be a million, or put together yesterday for all I know.
She was a “ Shame Monger” which was as esoteric of a job title as it sounds, and the first context me and my little buddy had on our current assignment.
The place we’re in is an old, decrepit arcade, I’m surrounded by shadowy figures sticking to the dark recesses like insects.
Kev is somewhere deep within the place sticking his neck out with God knows what ( I mean, I do as well, but I’ll let Kevin relay shit when he’s up to it.), and I’m making small talk.
“You human? “ I say, she’s not offended but raises an eyebrow.
“Are you? “ She has an edge to her, human or not, she’s seen some shit.
I laugh, running a hand over the branded lines mimicking clown patterns Art left me with after that stay in his gulag.
“Sometimes I forget about the braille.
Yeah, %100 sadly. “ I lean on the counter as I speak.
“Me too, you haven’t been working with the watchers long, have you? “ She sounds concerned, “ I’d suggest finding a new job. They have a bit of a reputation. “
“Long enough. “ I’m wary now, information is a resource I’m not willing to part with easily.
I don’t think she’s wrong, mind you, every day I spend with these wizards by another name, I like them less and less. Being sent with Kev, Jr, and the voices in my head, wandering across the country to find something called “The Fleshsmith”, is the best case scenario in my opinion. Gives me some breathing room.
“How do does one deal in shame? “ I say after a long silence. The glitched beeping of the machines becoming grating.
“Not as spooky as you’d think.
You play airsoft? I’m Tori by the way. “ Tori says, lighting up a small black cigar.
“Never got the bug, but I’ve heard of it, and I’m Mike. “ I reply.
“Well Mike, I play, and it’s a great hobby. Lots of physical activity, lots of equipment to learn about, it’s got something for everyone. For the most part, it’s an exciting activity .
But, think of the factory that makes the plastic ammunition. It’s integral, but it’s cheap, easy to make, monotonous, and far removed from any of the interesting facets of the hobby.
That’s me. I brush up against all kinds of folks, but besides the little wrinkle your friend is dealing with, all of the real spooky shit is well past arm’s length. “ she coughs, the thick, cherry scented smoke hangs in rings, “ It’s a living. “
“Honestly, I couldn’t be happier.
I hear ‘ Shame Monger’ and I was thinking torture, and, I don’t know, ghosts maybe? “ I shrug, motioning for one of the cigarellos.
She gives me one, it tastes of rose and a rich, almost syrup like tobacco.
“Sorry to disappoint. No, extraction is pretty painless, uses a kind of blotter paper. And to the best of my knowledge, ghosts aren’t a thing.
As I said, things are safe and boring. “ Tori says, taking a seat on a black waist high stool.
I let her statement hang for a moment.
“So what’s with the big guy trying to blend in, waiting for me to leave the counter? And why did he come with 2 friends and a running engine? “ I say, low but casual.
I can tell she’s annoyed at my insight.
“That’s nothing horror adjacent. Just a good old fashioned shake down, cost of doing business.
He doesn’t know exactly what goes on here, but him and his associates know it’s profitable enough they can squeeze ten grand out of me a month. “ Tori shrugs, putting out her cigar.
“You can’t give someone a discount to rattle their cage? “ I ask, curious.
“Listen to you. “ Tori laughs, “If your butcher asked you to get shot for them, would you jump at the chance? “
I make eye contact, I can’t help but smirk.
“I’ve gotten shot for less. “ My comment gets a sideways look.
“Mike, I’m seeing you, and I’ve got to say, kinda seems like you’re full of shit. “ Her reply is harsh, but I can’t blame her. I’m dressed like salesman, facial scars or no.
I don’t reply. I walk to the grimy, dim, wet floored men’s room.
Someone who chooses my line of work doesn’t get into it because they have great impulse control. And unfortunately, I’m not unique .
Since I’ve got here, I’ve felt scared, small, ineffective. I know you guys have seen Kevin’s point of view on things, and it makes me seem like some kind of wrecking ball, but that is 50 per cent showmanship, 30 per cent planning and 20 per cent not caring if I lose a piece or two.
But this situation, some low rent semi-connected asshole who thinks he’s Don Corleone? It calls to me.
The clothing I wear is designed to be reversable, and with a few adjustments, I’m no longer wearing a cheap looking used car salesman’s suit, but an antique tuxedo with a 1940s design.
The mirror is grimy as hell, I try to clear a spot, but the sad, octogenarian Esque flow from the tap isn’t up to the task.
But it’s clear enough to reflect him, standing behind me. I jump, and my heart starts to pound.
“Not the time for this. “ I say, pacing.
I try to look away, but there he is, in the corner of my vision, each time. I’d close my eyes, but that’s what he wants, he gets closer when I can’t see.
For a half second my vision is taken up by a crystal clear image of his face. That angular, pale visage inhuman by any standard, but haunting in it’s echoes of a past rooted in mortality.
I stumble backward, slamming into the wall. Panting, my eyes locked on his almost-there form.
He’s tall, wicked, and everything about him exudes power. He’s taken to looking like me more and more lately. But a twisted, malignant reflection, what I could be if I let this pulp novel of a corner of reality have it’s way with me.
“Fuck off Demi! “ I say, getting to my feet, “ I’ve got shit to do. “
Still don’t know if he is just another hallucination, or who he says he is, but Demi and myself are on pretty poor terms as of late.
I hear the bodyless old ghoul whispering what I assume are dark threats as I open a small tube of what I like to refer to as ‘Mike’s Mix’.
A combination of preparation H, topical anesthetic, and just a hint of clown white. Laugh if you want, but it stops a hell of a lot of incidental injuries in my line of work.
Demi starts to fade and I see what I can of myself in the dull mirror.
I’m a little too old for the phrase, but I’m sure a lot of you folks out there would refer to the cliché spook I’ve cultivated as “Cringe”.
I don’t disagree.
But, it’s the game I have to play right now. I’m not some invincible cursed killer, but you know what, I can certainly play one on T.V.
(Did I just try to relate to kids, then make a joke from a 40 year old commercial? This is why Kev does the writing.)
I walk out of the bathroom, reeking of fear sweat and tainted water. The foot and a half lucite rod is tucked up my sleeve, I tap the end of it against the wall as I walk.
The guy is six feet, easily, he’s fifty or so, but making up for it with trips to the gym and a few friendly doctors if I don’t miss my guess.
He doesn’t take the bait, just keeps talking to Tori, once he looks to me, I can tell he is asking her who I am, she’s smart, she shrugs after looking over.
I had an entire plan where I would embarrass the man, get him to send some guys, and make things so costly he just gave up on Tori. It’s a classic, but if it ain’t broke and all that.
But plans, like the people that make them, tend to fail at the worst times.
Once I get within striking distance, the guy turns, his speed isn’t supernatural, but a lot more than I was expecting. His punch lands well enough that I don’t remember starting to fall.
The second finishes the job before I can get my bearings.
The darkness creeps in and in it’s peace I realize how stupid it was to go in this half cocked. I was jonesing for a fight I could win so badly, I went in without a plan B.
I need someone to reign me in, back home it was Eli, here, it’s Kev. As the last bits of conscious thought leave me, I feel bad about leaving him alone.
It's the stifling heat that wakes me up, before my vision clears I smell hot, cheap leather, old vomit and years worth of attempts to mask the smell.
I’m soaked in sweat, the air is like a sauna. I’m sitting in the back of a car, I wouldn’t call it a limo, but it’s clearly built for comfort, in optimal circumstances. There’s a tinted glass partition separating me from the front seat, it’s cracked slightly, I try to tell if anyone is there, but have no luck.
“Can’t say this is a new experience. “ I say, to whoever may be listening.
I try kicking out the windows and the partition, they don’t budge a millimeter.
“If you are up for talking things over, I’m game. “ I try to pry the overhead light loose, and that’s when I notice it.
It's a note, in a thick plastic sleeve, wrapped around my forearm and stuck with some kind of adhesive.
The pain is horrible, made all the worse by the constant pouring of sweat literally putting salt into the wound.
Said wound isn’t deep, a few layers of skin down, enough to weep blood, but far away from pouring. But if this kills me, it won’t be exsanguination. Depending on how long, whoever, plans on keeping me in here, I worry about infection, necrosis, pretty much all the members of the Untreated Wound crew.
I take off the suit jacket, and tear it into strips to use as makeshift bandages, I have a feeling I’ll be needing plenty by the time this is over.
My left arm is slow and clumsy as I open the envelope. I hope it’s just shock, or swelling, not nerve damage.
It reads:
Hey, Dracula, or whatever the hell you are.
Fuck yourself, you think we don’t have ways of taking care of your kind?
Have Fun
Niko Ferang
“Well, can’t say the guy isn’t succinct. “ I say, laughing.
If I just went up to the guy with a threat and a pipe, I’d have either won or lost, and that’d be the end of it. But my genius self succeeded in convincing him I was scary enough to toss me… here.
It dawns on me that there is something obvious I haven’t tried.
As I pull the latch on the passenger side door, something inside me tells me to stop.
Visually, I can’t really describe what it looked like opening the door. The brief period before I saw what was beyond was the visual equivalent of trying to catch a greased pig.
I was left with a view, an identical car interior. The other car parked impossibly close, Their doors seeming to blend with their exteriors.
I enter, as a great man once said “Buy the ticket, take the ride. “, and my dumb ass need for assurance, bought me one hell of a ride.
Once I get in, the driver’s side door closes, and I find myself in the same sweltering heat, in the same backseat.
The damp leather sticks to my arms, I start to calculate how much water I’m losing by the minute, and the math scares the hell out of me.
I try going through the door a few more times, but the more I do, the more I realize, it’s the same car.
The fear becomes as oppressive as the wet heat, I’ve researched a hell of a lot of things from the watchers library, but infinite Oldsmobiles didn’t come up.
I’ve been disarmed, but left with my phone, and wallet. I’m kind of impressed they managed to find 99 per cent of the equipment I can hide in a suit, but hey, %1 is better than nothing.
The phone makes a useless bludgeon, I quickly retire the idea, and figure, even neutered as it is ( I find I can get online, but little else.), it’s better doing phone things than broken.
The good news is frighteningly slim.
I’ve got a few feet of polymar tarp, folded in the wallet, useful for a lot of things, but most important in my situation will be trying to get some kind of drinking water.
An emergency credit card knife, barely useful little thing, won’t do me any good in a fight, but might be a useful tool.
Three strike anywhere matches, a small hook and length of fishing line.
My lips are cracked and bleeding, it can’t have been more than an hour or two, but I’m starting to feel heat exhaustion set in.
I think I’ve found something when the knife sinks into the thin leather of the overstuffed backseat, but the shoddy blade encounters some kind of solid matter, and as I pull the knife out, the leather seals itself.
I stay still, trying to conserve energy, trying to formulate some plan.
He sits beside me now, his looming hunched frame bent in the confines of the car. His face is a blur, but I know beneath the shadows he's smirking.
“I’m way too tired for you Demi. “ I say, wiping what feels like a liter of sweat from my forehead.
His repeating, echoing laughter proves me wrong, I shiver, despite the brutal heat.
It can’t have been more than a few degrees, bit It feels like getting splashed with ice water.
The light in the car begins to dim, and with it, the soul crushing temperature of the luxury automobile drops.
I scramble to set up the tarp, I was banking on this, without some kind of temperature drop, the plastic sheet is useless.
Within an hour droplets have began to create a small stream, collecting at the cone shaped tip of the suspended tarp. Lacking anything to put it into, I catch the liquid in my mouth.
It's foul, and likely contaminated, but it’s my only option. If I’m stuck in here a week I can get by without food, brutalized by heat, I won’t make it 2 days without water.
I feel exhausted, wondering exactly how long I’ve been stuck here I check the time on my phone.
It’s almost random progression does nothing to comfort the surreal sense of dread that is enveloping me.
I don’t know when I passed out, but I wake up laying across the reeking leather, being dragged backward.
I feel fingers, dozens of them, clawing, scraping, trying to gain purchase. A crevice begins to open in the deep black leather, and I begin to be dragged into it.
I throw myself forward, landing painfully on the sticky, grime ridden floor of the car.
Fear, and the awkward ergonomics of my situation make turning around a slow, nerve wracking chore. Once I manage to, I regret the decision.
Hands, some small, some large, some seemingly cobbled together from mismatched scraps, slowly pull themselves from the crevice between the seat and back of the back seat.
They prod and crawl like insects, none ever giving way to arm, just a lumpen flow of calloused, wrist like structure, giving each an segmented, centipede like appearance.
I sit up, watching the macabre display, trying to make some kind of sense of it.
I actually scream when there’s a sharp, loud, mechanical ringing beside my head. The type of analogue noise that went out of style long before land lines did.
It doesn’t take me long to find the handle and pull out an ancient car phone, it’s a two part wood paneled brick of a thing, I pick up the receiver, “Hello” I say, a question as much as a greeting.
The voice is male, probably early twenties.
“Don’t worry about them. They can be an issue if you don’t sleep on the floor, but I’ve never seen one drag itself more than half way across the seat. “ He’s calm, but has a survivors hushed impatience.
“Who are you? “ I ask.
“I won’t lie to you man.
I’ve been in here a while, but now that there is someone else, I think I can get out. Call me Pol. “ I catch the hopeful tone in his voice.
“How? “ I say simply, still trying in vain to put more space between me and the hands.
“Not to sound cold, but if I tell you, there is a chance you just take the information and leave me here.
The first step is us meeting, you’ll know the plan by the time that happens.
I don’t lie. “ If nothing else I can say Pol seems smart.
“Fair enough, what can I do? “ I Trail off at the end of my sentence, one of the hands is pointing at me.
“You need to understand a few things about this place.
First, don’t travel at night. Nothing you are going to find is going to be any better than the crawlers.
Second, remember the numbers, 1, 5 and 9. I’m assuming you have a watch, or a cellular phone? If the time ends in one of those, you’re likely to find a new space.
Last, what’s outside of the car, on the driver’s side, pretend it doesn’t exist. “ The instructions are cryptic, but I’m in no place to turn down good advice.
“How do I know I can trust you? “ I ask, knowing the answer.
“Don’t see how I could be anything other than what I say.
Wouldn’t it be pretty obvious if I was trying to lead you astray? “ Pol’s response is reasonable, but a lifetime of being blindsided makes me wary.
“I guess so. What should I be doing now? “ I say, flipping off the hand like thing that continues to point at me.
“Get some sleep. Time, day and night cycles, they mean nothing here, and passing out in a hundred and fifty degree weather is a shitty way to go.
I won’t be able to get through during the day, so listen carefully.
If you time your travel right, you are going to be looking for two main things. The first is going to be a pillow mint, eventually you are going to starve either way, the human body needs more than just sugar, but you should be able to find enough to keep you going till malnutrition kicks in. The second is a soda can, it’s a sip, and it’s turned, but it’s better than trying to lick the droplets from the windows. “ I listen to Pol, hopefully memorizing his instructions.
Daylight brings with it reek and heat, I watch the hands scuttle back to within the recesses of the seats, shuddering a bit as I see wave like, movements in the cushions.
“God damn it. “ I say looking at the display on my knock off phone. About %50, for all I know I’ll be out in 15 minutes, but I’m not banking on it.
I watch the numbers flash by like a stock ticker, waiting to see if Pol is trying to screw me over or not.
I see 1:39 and crack open the passenger side door.
The same sweltering heat, the same basic backseat, but I know, at a glance, things are not quite identical. Part repetition from the day before, part a decade and a half playing private eye, but I can tell Pol was telling the truth.
Lipstick, smeared on the passenger window, an old handprint. It seems like something bad happened here.
The leather of one of the headrests is torn, I purposely avoid looking at the certainly not stuffing inside.
It’s like this place wants to tell a story, I can’t help but try and hear it.
I don’t find any soda, but I do find a single, red and white pillow mint, wrapper mostly in tact, sitting in a sticky patch on the floor.
I try my luck a few more times, using the cell phone as a kind of metronome, and while I do get a lot of repetition, every so often, there is a little change, or quirk.
I’ve collected two pocketfulls of mints, and found myself desperately hoping to stumble upon anything to drink. Another night of distilled sweat, dust, and God knows what doesn’t seem appealing.
I must have been too slow opening the door, I’d done it over two hundred times at this point, and the grey haze of this new variation set off every danger instinct in me.
It felt like I was being watched from every angle, despite the gloom the heat was worse, and seemed to bake a fungal reek into the air itself.
The door handle on the passenger side is mangled, the steel colored plastic twisted into a useless lump.
The leather seems slightly rotten, weather stripping peels, light fixtures are cracked and loose, it feels very, old.
I watch the phone, my eyes instinctively darting around, there are noises from the front seat and I doubt they have my best interests in mind.
I’m trying the mangled door handle but something is broken.
That being, said, with a car this old, the fish hook, with enough persistence could work,
I Peel back some of the stripping around the window, te hook begins it’s slow trek down into the mechanics of the door.
I scratch my wounded arm, it hurts, but that isn’t what concerns me. I feel a small, irregular lump.
I peel back my makeshift bandages, and what I see attempts me make to vomit stomach contents that weren’t there.
Small, brown grey mushrooms, a half dozen, about the size of a grain of rice. I feel a tingling in the wound, and panic sets in.
Opening a door like this requires a steady hand, but between the noises in the front seat, and the literally budding body horror on my arm, my nerves are shot.
I hear the partition begin to lower, and that rotten, fungal reek becomes nearly a physical force. My eyes water, my nose runs, and I hear a noise, like flowing sand.
I feel the hook dig under the proper part of the lock and pull up as I feel something wet soak through my shoe.
The door opens violently, not that I’m upset, I toss myself forward like I’m going for a touchdown, my forehead slams off of the armrest in the newest backseat I find myself in.
Before the passenger side closes I catch a glimpse of the mess that spilled from behind the partition. Rot and flesh, an aborted rotten attempt at life enraged at the universe that spawned it.
I actually feel relief at the blinding sunlight, and shining leather, and find myself relating to the monsterous mass I left behind.
I look at my arm, realizing I didn’t leave all of it behind.
“Oh, fuck me. “ I say, fumbling the credit card knife together.
The mushrooms had doubled in size, the cheap tin knife makes a terrible scalpel, I scream as I err on the side of caution, flaying a half inch around each.
I’m bleeding heavily, half of the makeshift bandages barely keeping the flow at bay.
My vision swims, I feel sick, and I fight the urge to break down into a mentally and physically broken heap.
That’s where I’ll leave everyone. Night is falling, and without a little more help from Pol, I don’t know how much longer I’m going to last.
If this is the last time you hear from me, well I’m sure Kev will have you guys covered for the rest of what I hope is Art’s downfall.
If it isn’t, I’ve got a favor to ask, did you guys notice anything I didn’t? Is there anything that is more obvious from outside this displaced cluster fuck?

My boyfriend and I dated in the same city for six months until he got a job in a different state. We split up, but then he reached out a few months later and we started talking again and got back together but decided to figure out the details during a visit. I then went to go see him and was very excited. When I got there, however, I was surprised to see that he was acting pretty aloof with me. He told me how wildly happy he was in his new life, how he couldnt imagine living anywhere else, and didn’t understand why people didn’t live in his new town. He also admonished me for calling his new town by an old nickname, pointed out someone he had made out with during our break and said she was needy, and joked about how many people he could hypothetically get with in his new town.
It all made me feel like an outsider or awkward interloper who didn’t belong in his new life. I told him I was happy for him, but also that his overly happy and distant attitude made me wonder whether he was trying to send me a message: either that he was over me, or he wanted me to move out, or something.
He shut down after that and got really upset. He said that he was just acting normal, and that if there was any weirdness, then it must be something about me or my behavior that was causing that. He was very upset that I would criticize him for his happiness, and project my own insecurities of our relationship onto him unfairly. I don’t think that’s what I was doing, but told him that I guessed I misread things.
The rest of the trip was awkward, we didn’t talk about it again, except when he told me he talked to his friends and told me they said he was not overly happy and so again I must be the one unfairly projecting my feelings. He still seemed to resent our conversation and the trip ended not long after that.
AITAH for questioning his overly happy attitude?

We've been together for 7 years, ever since I was 18. I've always been working and covering my own expenses, but whenever we go out he always pays and is always generous when it comes to occasions. He runs his family business, which isn't a very booming business but it pays their bills.
He isn't very transparent about his money with me, I don't even know how much he earns. I tried to ask him once and he smiled and said "it's not a set number, it's different every month"We're discussing plans of our wedding for next year, and he's told me he's saved up money for the wedding, but I don't know exactly how much. He doesn't have a father, so he will be financially taking care of everything.This week, his car had problems and he had to spent about 1K on fixing it.
1 week earlier, I had to leave my work cause the company ran out of money. They only paid me half a salary for this month, and I have already planned my trip abroad next month with my mother and sister for my graduation. My fiance knows that I have a lot of expenses ahead.When I left work, I was so stressed about money and what not and how I would be spending etc. Not once in two weeks has he said he would support me whenever I need it.Also, I really wanted to attend my graduation so my brother in law offered to lend me money to pay for the ticket abroad. I said yes. When my fiance later found out, he got pissed and said "you should really pay him back and very soon." But he knows I'm going through money troubles and didn't think to say "it's alright babe I got your back" and pay the ticket for me/lend me the money to pay my BIL back.
In our culture, men are the providers. And honestly, I want the man I'm spending my life with to be in the provider mindset. He's not the richest, but I love him. However, I've always had money complexes and he has promised me that he would be taking care of me.But if he doesn't even feel the need to tell me, when I'm unemployed, to ask for financial help from him whenever I need it, I'm doubting his ability to support me, and doubting on whether or not my life with him will be spent like this. In lack.
I would appreciate advice...

We've been together for 7 years, ever since I was 18. I've always been working and covering my own expenses, but whenever we go out he always pays and is always generous when it comes to occasions. He runs his family business, which isn't a very booming business but it pays their bills.
He isn't very transparent about his money with me, I don't even know how much he earns. I tried to ask him once and he smiled and said "it's not a set number, it's different every month"
We're discussing plans of our wedding for next year, and he's told me he's saved up money for the wedding, but I don't know exactly how much. He doesn't have a father, so he will be financially taking care of everything.
This week, his car had problems and he had to spent about 1K on fixing it. 1 week earlier, I had to leave my work cause the company ran out of money. They only paid me half a salary for this month, and I have already planned my trip abroad next month with my mother and sister for my graduation. My fiance knows that I have a lot of expenses ahead.
When I left work, I was so stressed about money and what not and how I would be spending etc. Not once in two weeks has he said he would support me whenever I need it.
Also, I really wanted to attend my graduation so my brother in law offered to lend me money to pay for the ticket abroad. I said yes. When my fiance later found out, he got pissed and said "you should really pay him back and very soon." But he knows I'm going through money troubles and didn't think to say "it's alright babe I got your back" and pay the ticket for me.
In our culture, men are the providers. And honestly, I want the man I'm spending my life with to be in the provider mindset. He's not the richest, but I love him. However, I've always had money complexes and he has promised me that he would be taking care of me.
But if he doesn't even feel the need to tell me, when I'm unemployed, to ask for financial help from him whenever I need it, I'm doubting his ability to support me, and doubting on whether or not my life with him will be spent like this. In lack.
I would appreciate advice...

What do you carry with you in terms of food and water? I took one 12-oz water bottle and 3 medium sized apples. I bet that was low. I felt the same. How much calories should one consume so I am ready the next day to do the same hike of 8.4 mile round trip hike with a 3,000 foot elevation?

Hi. How do you cope with travel anxiety. I mean the anxiety you get after you reached your destination. How do you enjoy activities in a place far from home?
Currently on a trip with my wife to see some family, and i have so much anxiety, upset stomach and stuff.
😳

Sometimes, I wish this were a joke. But I've been know to drive up to 4 hours just to visit a new bookstore. I prefer road trips over plane rides bc I don't have a limit on how many books I can buy. Please help me feed this bookworm addiction.

Hi all,
I am quite torn - my S10 recently had a nasty fall a couple weeks back and the phone in the front is cracked up. It was working otherwise fine so I didn't mind using it that way but as of recently, it's been lagging and touch is getting unresponsive. I'm left with the following options:
​
1.) Fix the S10 - I can fix the screen which I'm assuming to be a couple hundred. The phone runs alright - freezes here and there but honestly a great phone. Only concern is using banking apps on the thing and how secure it'd be without security updates. I was hoping to hold out on upgrading until these companies provide a better incentive to upgrade as honestly I don't see much difference with the newest phones.
2.) Upgrade - S23 Ultra - I could go for an upgrade. I'm not sure if it's just me, but the saturation on the S23 Ultra is goddamn awful. I know we could always change to natural mode and vivid even on S10 is punchy, but goodness - this new S23 Ultra is ridiculous! Also, no headphone jack is kind of a big deal. I use bluetooth headphones here and there out of convenience, but I'd rather spend hundreds on solid wired headphones than overpriced bluetooth headphones. Could get a dongle but I hear about how unreliable they are. Size is also quite large but not too bad from testing at store.
3.) Upgrade - Sony Xperia 1 V - Similar option as above but this time upgrade to a Sony device. This one looks promising with a headphone jack and SD card. Looks exciting with a nice display. One thing is carrier support as their availability here (in Canada) is terrible and unreliable sources as to whether all features (5G, VoLTE) will work with this phone. Also, 3 years of security updates for a phone that costs nearly 1400-1500 USD is ridiculous especially with such little support. Would miss OneUI as well :( but I can live without that.
Appreciate any insights if possible. Thought I'd ask here as everyone understands what we love about this phone and what could possibly give us as close to the experience as we have with the S10 :) Cheers!
​
tldr: Should I fix my cracked S10 and hold out a bit longer with it, get an S23 Ultra, or go for a Sony Xperia 1V?

Worked at a carbon fiber parts production company through a temporary work contract. Here's how things went. I interviewed and the interviewer said I was "too perfect". The company offered me a position I didn't apply for. I took their offer.
I met the lead of the neighboring department and he left and then immediately told others I was nervous which I thought was weird.
The coworkers and boss told me I dressed extremely well for the job and I recieved an abundance of compliments about my attire. I decided to return some basic compliments like "Nice jacket" and "Cool shoes" and was pulled into hr, because someone felt targeted by my compliments. So I told human resources I would no longer compliment anyone's attire. I still recieved an abundance of compliments so I stopped wearing nice clothes and wore basic clothes instead.
Turns out I was really good at the spot I was in and had a significantly low margin of mistakes compared to others before me. They were really behind in the department I was in. After six weeks I had finished all the work in the department that piled up so my coworker in the department and I were cross trained in other departments. My trainer had grinded several previous bits into other parts and spent several hours making non work related projects for fun on the clock. I never did that.
During cross training two coworkers jokingly threw projectiles at me and then complained to my boss when I told them to knock it off. One thrown object was a sqaure of sandpaper thrown ninja star style that hit me in the face nearly knicking me in the eye and the other was a ball of tape. The lead in the department I trained for complained that I was hostile after he asked me to leave and I said "You said that" He complained to hr.
As I was telling my departments coworker my boss came up to me and asked me what happened and apparently the lead and I's story didn't line up. Apparently, he and the other coworkers that threw projectiles at me complained afterwards. I explained the lead kept putting me down while I kept making sure the conversation steered towards mutual happiness. Afterwards the following day I was given a new task which I performed quickly and easily. I was informed the lead wasted time and didn't meet deadlines. He told me I was slowing his department down even though we accomplished more tasks that I voluntarily assisted after completing my own work.
Then they told me to empty filters outside in the open air, that's a Environmental protection agency violation.
After four weeks I requested a referral based on work performance for a different job opportunity from my boss in Alaska. My boss called me selfish and and gaslight me with his need for a rock solid team calling me a non team player. Then said he couldn't hold it against me. I used him as a reference anyway because he seemed somewhat nice but I think he ruined the offer, all my non boss references were met with positivity by the company boss offering the job, after all that, he was gonna take me till I realized he was choosing an unsafe team of three people to work on the bearing sea, two of which had never been on the barring sea, I mentioned to make a safe decision and he chose a more experienced fisherman for the job, he then told me to visit him if i'm ever at Kodiak. Great guy, was awesome talking to him.
After talking to the guy that threw sandpaper at me he told me he wanted to take his kids camping but needed some things, I offered him a camping stove to use whenever he went camping.
I then attempted to re-hang a fallen conduit because the department members I was cross training with told me they'd tripped over the conduit repeatedly and to be careful and after a month and a half no electrician had been called. I grinded a screwdriver for the Philips head bit to use in a screwdriver because we didn't have any bits but an excess of screwdrivers in the same size. My trainer had trimmed bits to his needs several times before me. I have basic electrical experience but was just performing basic drywall installation so that me and the other workers were safe after such a long period of time without safety correction.
I bought my trainer that had terrible money management skills food when he couldn't afford any a handful of times and took him to the food bank on lunchbreak because he had never gotten food from a foodbank before and was skipping breakfast and lunch because he was so broke. I even helped him make the decision to not move into an alcoholic BPD afflicted person's home when asked for advice. and shared knowledge about making his apartment safe when he had CPS issues. He likes his new space greatly.
We went fishing even! Met his girlfriend and him for a fishing adventure and they told me they like me. He didn't have the resources to properly clean his apartment for a CPS investigation so I offered assistance. He didn't have transportation to the bank so I offered to drive him their during lunch. He gave me a drill press and welding mask as a way to get rid of excess clutter in his apartment. I offered to jump another coworkers car and I brought food to an after work weekly social event. I was helping put together a BBQ for work.
Today I was informed my work assignment with the company was ended by hr and my boss. I reported the carbon fiber filter dumping to the EPA and will have a new assignment from my agency on Monday. My roommate offered me an apprenticeship and reference to his company paying several more dollars per hour.

Hello, we have planned for few days trip, but with the weather forecast of rain above 60% we are not sure what to do. How is the rain right now, will it be a heavy rain where we can't go outside or more of a drizzle during monsoon season?

Handsome Dudes of Pune,
I am based in PUNE and this is for only Pune Studs. I hope this group has some really good looking, sophisticated, educated, charming and lady killer genuine guys who are not cheapsters and desperate for sex just to get in bed with a lady by hook or by crook. Good looking means good looking by my standards not by yours.
Assuming above, here is my message for such guys -
I have been married to Anamika for the last 18 years. She is a 39 years old woman- a perfect MILF and gorgeous lady with luscious lips, beautiful curly hair, figure of 38B-32-38, thunder thighs and a sculpted butt to die for. I am also a good looking handsome guy but I have many strong cuck fantasies about her to be lived in real life for the last many years.
I am a wannabe cuckold with a strong cuck mindset for the last many years however she has not been on the same page due to her reservations on the moral side and the reputation risk involved. However, she has one hell of a wild streak in her when it comes to sex and kinks and she is generally insatiable by me in sexual pleasure. I have tried in the past to convert her and got some limited success due to an internal slut hidden within her which she resists badly to come to the fore. Unfortunately, she had a bad experience and also some mistakes of mine, she refused to come forward again and has been closed for the last 2-3 years.
Major stuff tried with her in past -

1. She had agreed to a massage at my home and it was finally converted to a nude massage. The deal was that if she loses her self control, the Guy (who was a state level athlete) will get to enjoy it, else he will leave. She never lost her self control.
2. We had met an online friend of mine in a bar and he was good looking and skillful in establishing a great rapport just in that meeting with her and put her at ease. He made her try some dares such as asking her to go to Pub’s toilet and remover her panty and show it back to her as a proof, then he touched her under the table and dared her not to let it reflect on her face and then taking her to a movie where we three sat together and he fingered her bare pussy under the wrap on dress she was wearing (her panty was in his pocket all this while) and fondled her boobs over the dress.
3. Introduced another good online friend of mine who was perfect, looks wise and in all other aspects and he also created a good friendship with her in the first meeting but he was very patient and met her 2-3 times before trying anything. Then he took her to movie and pub dates. During the fourth such date they made out very passionately on the back seat of my car while I was driving. She was so horny that she dug her nails in his back and offered to suck her boobs by lowering her dress.It went on for a good 20 minutes.
4. With the same friend we made a Lonavala trip and stayed in the same room. She had a lot of soft fun, deep kissing (tongue to tongue), boobs sucking and fingering her except penetration which she did not allow. They were constantly chatting during this one month period on Whatsapp since they had met.
5. A lot could have happened with this guy with some patience, but he messed it up soon after and then she never met him. He boasted to her about her many such conquests of housewives and which made her feel cheap and common. Mind you, she has a very high self esteem and does not want to have a self perception like any other common housewife as she comes from a high class erstwhile royal family.

This was the end of my good times as she never opened up after that. She was not even willing to talk about it.
Now I am trying to go down that path again and looking for a handsome dude above 25 years who can meet her in person as a friend of mine and then charm her gradually to pull her into being his GF for the long term. This is possible even after her seeming resistance as she is not sexually satisfied by me not because I do not have enough sized cock or I have an erection problem- it is because I have a strong Cuckold mindset and I have a usual tendency to jerk to imagination of her being taken by another guy rather than fucking her and she remains high and dry. I have not even fucked her more than 25 times in last 5 years and not more than 100 times in last 18 years and so much so that when she went to her her Gynaecologist last month - she refused to believe that she has been married for last 18 years judging by the tightness of her Vagina. She said that it seems she has vagina of a woman who is almost a virgin. Our kid was a cesarean delivery so it corroborated this phenomenon.
I have many cuck fantasies which we can decide between us and try to live once she is cracked. For example-

1. We go out shopping, dining out, drinking and you behave as her husband and I am with you guys just like a friend- she does lingerie shopping with you suggesting to her which ones to buy while she tries those lingerie. You and she decide everything on the outing as husband and wife and I just follow. I drive as a Chauffeur and you and she sit in the back seat like the couple. We three go to movies and she sits in between and you play with her the way you and she likes. You two just ignore my presence and do everything as a couple.
2. Similar things like above we try on a vacation. Where we three stay in the same room but I sleep on an extra mattress and you two take the bed.
3. You own her in every sense (with her own will). You make her try exhibitionism by making her flash to others as per your will. We are on a beach and you two on the same mattress with you smooching , fondling, feeling,fingering her in public. Take her out for dinners, drinks without panties in short dresses.
4. Some extreme fantasies which I do not know whether we will try in real or not depending on how compelling you are as a Bull to me and to her- such as fucking her raw always, giving her facial with your cum, make her try a gang bang with couple of your friends with she being treated as a sex toy (without hurting her offcourse)
5. Can try many more depending on your imaginations and suggestions.

You need to be educated, sophisticated, charming, have a good pleasing personality and a nice huge cock (part of my fantasy) with a kinky mindset.
We will connect on chat first on telegram and gauge the mental compatibility then take it to real life if feasible. You should be able to provide me with a psychological kick to the extent that you are the right person to make me your cuckold and dominate me psychologically in a natural way (if you have these capabilities, you would not need to fake it) that I may even allow you to breed my wifey or use her in any way you want ( you may make her agree) for long term. She needs someone who can engage her in interesting and witty conversations, make her laugh out loud, make her feel special, can connect with her in a genuine manner and then such a person can make her fall for him for good.
Please note this is no guaranteed offer for sex with her and nothing will happen in a hurry. It may take a long time so those with patience only should connect. Ultimate right to move ahead with you or not is with me and I will not be able to entertain every Tom, Dick and Harry. Please keep in mind that when I say that you should be good looking and fit, it means good looking and fit as per my point of view and subjectivity, you may have different views about yourself and you are entitled to them, no offense meant there.
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For context, I (21F) have been dating my bf (25M) for 3 years. We have been dating since I was a freshman and he was a senior in college. It started off quite toxic, cheating twice on his side, and me shitposting stuff he doesn't like on my side. I know what you guys are gonna say, I would've left asap if it was current me, but the young and naive me thought I could "fix" him and stuck to him. But should I say I "successfully fixed" him? After the second cheating, he has been extra careful and become a perfect boyfriend overall (reassuring me, communicating, keeping boundaries with women, etc).
The real problem here is, I recently returned from a study trip abroad, and I met lots of friends there, including guys. I mainly hang out with my guy friends only in groups and I am closer to the girls. The guys are also with girlfriends back home/they like someone else in the same trip, as well as they know I have a boyfriend. I refused to go clubbing and stayed with the girls who don't go too. My DMs are usually full of girlfriends or work-related, so no texting unless I need to. So I am sure I kept my boundaries while maintaining a friendship with them.
When my boyfriend cheated, I told our mutual friends about his cheating, and I am ashamed of myself not being able to break up with him and move on, which is why I don't post him or anything related to him. Another thing is I have a strict family who only knows that I've broken up with him in my social media.
When I post my pictures, my captions are usually "meet me at (city)", when I actually have returned like a week ago and these posts make it seem like I haven't returned. So the guy friends (two actually) from the trip who know that l'm back home ironically comment that they will meet me soon or asking my whereabouts. so I replied them as if I am still on trip. Keep in mind, my pages are usually full of girls" comments and guys commenting are very rare.
My bf saw this and started telling me how it hurts him that I'm "flirting" in my comments and I'm acting single. I don't understand his point at all. I told him, reassured him using the points I said above, but what he wants me to do is to stop posting/replying to comments. I want to compromise but I don't know how.
TLDR; My bf thinks I am flirting and acting single online when I am socializing with platonic friends within boundaries.

I (novice hiker) live in Lubbock texas and there is nothing in the way of hiking out here in the flattest place I’ve ever lived. I have a rare opportunity next week to take a trip and I want to go hike wheeler peak in Taos, New Mexico but I’m worried it’ll be icy toward the peak. I did this hike before, but it was in mid-august then. If it is icy, how should I prepare for that?
Thanks!

Hi Reddit,
It’s unfortunate this is my first post but sadly I have nobody else to talk to about it currently (it’s 1:40am as I type this)
Long story short my parents have always been fighting with each other since I was a kid, with my Dad being the instigator most of the time for very unreasonable small details (I have an assumption he has a mental disorder, as I myself have ADD and Autism but his habits are….different). Due to my parents constant fights and reactionary habits it led to my brother dropping out of college just 2 weeks in a couple of yrs ago to enroll in the navy to get away from them, that ended up saving his life truly looking back at it.
I myself moved out my sophomore year of college to live on campus despite school being 40 minutes away, as it gave me more freedom to do more at school for myself and my career, but mainly also to get away from the constant fighting. I moved back in about a month ago after graduation, with a new excitement as I felt the years away helped my relationship with my parents, and also I would finally get to spend time with my little sister, who honestly loves me the most out of everyone in my family (she always communicates with me and only opens up to me, which I appreciate as she reminds me of myself when I was a kid, always getting bullied, not feeling understood and not understanding the environment around me well, etc.).
Sadly I left for a quick trip to Florida with some friends the week after, and got a message from my sister saying mom and dad are getting a divorce. It threw me off as everything seemed….fine for once? I called my mom and she confirmed the news and I got pissed and made the call short, but once I got back I never talked to them about it and I just waited to see if they could work to fix it, and they have tried, going to a weekly church group on Thursday nights that’s focused on failing marriages, but today I witnessed something unfortunate.
I was in my room as I heard loud yells coming from down the hall, and I went to my parent’s door to see what was going on as it was worrisome, I waited out and heard as they were arguing, they walk out and see that I was there and kept arguing.
The next 90 minutes was rough. My mom told me through the whole spill of what happened (basically she noticed on mother’s day my dad was having odd conversations on his phone, turns out it was many prostitutes he went to see over time recently). She learned today everything after secretly paying someone to get all that information, as my dad kept denying it over the past couple of weeks, and tonight specifically is when she got it and approached him about it as they were asleep.
Witnessing everything that was said was heartbreaking, I’ve never seen my mom, or anyone in general cry so destroyed. Her words said will always stick with me as an example of how ones actions can destroy a person over time.
Both my parents are set on divorcing now, but I don’t know how to feel.
I myself have had a relatively “slightly rough” year, having gone through health issues earlier in the year, a rough “breakup”, a death in the family, withdrawing from certain substances, and I got a great FT job with a top Tier2 consulting firm, but it got pushed back a year, so now that has caused me stress financially as I try to find a temporary job.
I just don’t know how to feel about the aspect of everything WILL change. Our beatiful house we just got? Will be sold, my sister? Will have to move schools again and make new friends, while she hasn’t had any in years, my mom? She doesn’t have a degree here, so she will have to live in a rough place likely for a while.
I am at a mix of emotions right now, but the part that breaks me the most is seeing my Dad not being willing to put in the work to change, as things stand now.
His family (parents, grandparents, etc.) all have been either druggies, alcoholics, domestic abusers, bums, etc. he was the only one who left the island to try to have a good life, but sadly he’s leading himself to a path right back to the same shit and demons his bloodline loves.
If you’ve read all of this, thank you, it means a lot. Any advice or tips would be appreciated.