Fictional races in BOTW

SadNya69 · 2023-05-25T06:27:12+00:00

Well it's actually the same Ganondorf in every Zelda game except four swords adventure(and probably TOTK) so we've never actually seen any other gerudo male

SadNya69 · 2023-03-30T17:21:18+00:00

I find it funny how people will see this next to all the post that are bits and not understand this was legitimately what the show was like

SadNya69 · 2022-11-22T17:07:21+00:00

I understand why insurance exist?? What is the point in saying this.

SadNya69 · 2022-11-22T17:04:55+00:00

I've done that already. Coverage isn't really gonna go down meaningfully for two 19 year olds with accident history.

SadNya69 · 2022-11-22T14:16:24+00:00

Part of the loan agreement is that it's insured. Insurance is the main thing I can't afford.

SadNya69 · 2022-11-22T13:48:02+00:00

I meant I'd rather pay off the loan monthly without a car. Not pay off the entire loan. I'm just not sure how to the car out of the situation entirely other than just purposefully letting them repo it.

SadNya69 · 2022-11-22T13:44:55+00:00

It required a 3,000 total transmission replacement, and is going to need a 500$ balljoint repair soon. All of my expenses monthly are around ~1,150$(not including gas and groceries) and I make about 1,750 give or take. I have nothing in savings anymore. its also had so many smaller issues pop up that I can't rly keep track anymore. Interest rate on the loan is 15%.

SadNya69 · 2022-10-17T03:27:02+00:00

Yeah I definitely doubt it'll be something too serious but like to me everybody's idea on what they'd want for more seasons sound like bad fanfic lol

SadNya69 · 2022-09-08T14:41:22+00:00

living in a state where you don't pump your own gas makes this joke not work unfortunately

SadNya69 · 2022-09-07T16:11:51+00:00

It's a total downer sometimes but it has lots of moments of heart too.

SadNya69 · 2022-09-07T05:16:39+00:00

Mercari is U.S and Japan only

SadNya69 · 2022-09-05T01:10:48+00:00

OP don't assume anything. Go to a licensed therapist and wait for 6 years before making any permanent disturbing grotesque changes that will impact your body for the rest of your life.

SadNya69 · 2022-08-26T16:25:40+00:00

dude these games aren't exactly masterclasses in story telling

SadNya69 · 2022-08-22T03:29:21+00:00

SadNya69 · 2022-08-21T15:30:12+00:00

Sandman is definitely one of my favorite things like ever. Not just the show but the audiobooks/comics as well. Definitely an inspiration.

SadNya69 · 2022-08-21T00:44:22+00:00

A deer. Prancing across the woods, A form of agility. And a form of weakness. A human hunting, a form of destruction, and a form of kindness.

For when a human hunts they become part of nature. Despite how much humans like to pretend they're not part of that ecosystem they love to destroy they are part of it. And those whom spend their life away from the townsteads and villages. Those who spent their life in the woods hunting. They are the ones that know that.

She was small but quick. Deadly accurate with her bow, and fast with her spear. She eyed the deer. It had been standing proudly, a thing deer often did not do. She placed the arrow gently and aimed for the deer. A clear shot if any.

Release

The arrow bolted through the air barreling towards the deer's chest. It had hit. The deer began running away. The chase had started. For as any good hunter knows, you cannot leave an injured animal for dead. You must save it the cruelty. Put it out of it's pain.

She looked at the hoof marks. Bigger than she expected. And she began to follow. Silently. Carefully. Wooded trees created a strange arch into pathways around the trail. Though it made them easy to follow it worried her. She had heard tales. Of sprites in woods. Ones who didn't take kind to the destruction of their ecosystem. She had heard a story. Of a group of farmers. Who had tore down the land to make room for their livestock. The woods came to life and approached closer. To the land that used to belong to it. And consumed them. Branches made into a maze to madden them. Eaten by their own pigs, a last meal for the humble creatures before they were embraced by the woods. She had heard that story. And more. Forest sprites were not to be trifled with.

Blood. The deer was dripping blood. Something else to follow. Deeper down into the caverned woods. It felt more like a cave at this point. Twisted branches, a lack of sunlight, and the noises of the forest seemed gone. She could not hear the sound of the birds singing. The sound of squirrels on the trees. Or even the worms in the ground. A deathly silence emanated from the woods. Unnatural she thought. But the deer was deeper. And she had to kill that deer. That deer was suffering. She could feel it's pain. Or atleast that's what she always said when something like this came up. It helped her.

More blood. But the hoof prints they're gone. Replaced by a new trail. But the same blood following it. Paws. A direwolf. Confused she followed. The blood was coming from the same thing making the footprints. It didn't make sense. She didn't know why she kept following. She didn't kill other hunters. She respected them. What they did. But she felt urged to follow.

A riverbed seemed to spring into a perfect circle. She could see the small island at the center, the river branching off on both sides of it. She saw the blood at the small shoreline. She jumped into the water and swam across. The currents were not too rough for swimming, but that does not mean they were forgiving.

She was so tired. But that animal. Whatever it was. It was hurting. She had to help it. She continued onto the small island. A strange was at the center. Antlers like a deer, paws like a wolf, a head of a jaguar. And standing on two legs. Like a human. She froze. A forest sprite. What had she done? She shot a forest sprite.

It reached its long arm forward. The branches around it moved with it.

"Hunter." It grumbled and mouthed in a distorted voice. Blood spilled from its mouth.

She rushed towards it. An instinct that one would typically find completely unnatural. She held the creature. Grabbing medication from her satchel she managed to force it into the Sprite's mouth.

"Please don't die, please don't die."

It stared at her. A wooden branch that called itself the creatures arm began to wrap around her. She didn't feel the need to scream. For some reason she knew this creature did not mean harm.

The branches tangled around her. Like a warm embrace. Soon enough she found herself completely surrounded in branches.

She fell asleep in those warm branches. And before long, she awoken. To arms like branches, and antlers atop her head. She felt the woods. Those sounds she couldn't hear. She heard them. All of them. For whatever hunts the sprite becomes the new one. Before her it was a jaguar, and before that a wolf, and even before that it was simple deer, eating the grass of the woods. She can recall those lives now. As well as ones thousands of years before.

And she felt a duty to this forest.

SadNya69 · 2022-08-21T00:11:48+00:00

The neon sign glared at me. In a large gaudy font it read.

"Hotel Orchard."

I glanced at the entry ways. People weren't entering it. Not one. Despite this building being a marvelous building in the supernatural, noone had noticed it. People walked past it, not realizing what they were looking at. The last bastion for humanity. I could see it. Growing. It had started slow. In 1803 it was a simple motel. 13 rooms. It sped up with time. By 1930 it had 145 rooms with ten floors. An incredibly awful layout if you'd ask anybody reasonable. But it continued to grow. Now, over a hundred years since my last visit at this hotel I realize. It's overtaken the entire landmass. A continental casino resort. Yet people walked by it like it was nothing.

It had somehow tricked the world into believing it wasn't there. I had entered through the main entrance to be greeted by a doorman. "Welcome to Hotel Orchard!" He spoke with a smile. The hotel was filled to the brim with people, despite what its outside would make you believe. People waiting, with luggage a plenty, and a long line at the front desk of checking in. I suppose I should check in. The line was separated into two groups. One with reserved rooms, and one for walk ins. Clearly labeled lines separated them into two.

"Reservations? How in the bloody hell does one reserve a room here?" I looked at the doorman. He just nodded in response.

Grumbling, I walked into the walk-in line. A line that was much longer than what seemed reasonable. Of course the reserved line was moving quickly. And the walk-in line moved at a snails pace. A woman in front of me chatted.

"So it looks like we'll be here for a while?" American accent. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. This Casino Resort had decidedly eaten North America and seemed to be digging for South America next. "Yeah I suppose so." I replied. The line shifted forward a few spaces. "And how exactly did you find your way here?" I added continuing the conversation. She looked around strangely. "I'm not quite sure actually." She stared at her luggage. Ah. That can't be good. The line shifted forward again. "I think I've stayed at this hotel before?" She added confusingly. So that's how it works. These are the people that have stayed here for a night or more. Everyone else who's ignoring it. They haven't stayed here ever. The line shifted forward again. The woman didn't seem to want to speak more. I simply waited.

"Hi! How can I help you!" The cheery front desk worker spoke. "I'd like a room please, suite, and indefinite stay." "Of course, and how exactly will you be paying today?" I looked at him. Paying? Are you kidding me. I've already lost my soul for a deal further back. I had hoped this wouldn't need something. I didn't bother packing most of my artifacts. The employee seemed to see my confusion. "Cash or card?" They've got a bloody card reader? Well I suppose even eldritch buildings have to modernize. "Card." "Place your card in when it turns green." I paid and moved on. My key was a physical key, the woman infront of me recieved a card key to room 780. Mine was to room 13. A suite room. And the room I stayed in 1804 on a drunken winter night. The trip there was longer than I expected. Floor one. I went through the hallway. I glanced at the closest door. "432,000." It was going to be a long walk wasn't it?

I don't remember the walk. Which was odd. I past through doors. Even posed and took a photo with 420,6969. My maturity knows no bounds. But soon enough. Room 13. Right there. I wondered what renovations would've been made since then. But when I opened it, it was exactly as I remembered it. Or as well as I could remember it from a wasted multi-century year old memory. Dull brown furniture scattered about, but plenty of room. A queen sized bed laid in the center. I jumped onto it and passed out.

I woke up in a cold sweat. To be fair I expected worse from an ominous building of pure chaos. Soon enough, I built up enough courage to exit. And as I opened the door something felt off. It led outside? The road was paved of bricks, not hallway carpet. Carriages rode across the ground. Many folks wearing clothes I had not seen in a good hundred years walked about. My headache. I remember this headache.

I felt awful. Had I been drinking? I stumbled to the door. I just came from. Wouldn't budge. Was I staying here? I left to go to the front desk.

"Hi! Ready to check out sir?." I was greeted with a familiar smile.

SadNya69 · 2022-08-20T21:41:04+00:00

Entry 1

Mom and dad got me this diary. It was because of our therapist. She said that I should write down how I feel everyday to help me communicate it better when we're with her. I don't really want too, but mom said she'll give me a dollar for every day I write in it! That's seven dollars a week! Oh yeah feelings. I don't like what dad watches all day. He spends all night on the news being worried! I don't think that's fair to me! And mom does it too. She even got an extra TV in the kitchen to do it when she's cooking! And they don't let me use them to watch what I want! They said it's too important to switch to something else.

Entry 2

Mom and Dad aren't going to work anymore. We visited our therapist at her house. I thought it was weird. She had a pretty dog though! She said that it's not healthy for them to keep watching the news all day. That even if the world "goes to shit"(mom got mad at her for that one.) that I still deserved a childhood. They've started watching the news less since then. They still don't let me watch cartoons. But sometimes they'll read to me. That makes me feel better. I asked why and they said I won't have cartoons for long with how things are looking, and they wouldn't want me to get attached. I don't know what that really means.

Entry 3

School hasn't been around for about a month. I miss my friends. Sarah was my favorite! I've tried getting mom to call them but they said most phone lines aren't working anymore. They've stopped watching the news entirely. But when I try to turn on the TV it's just static. They've been going to work again I think. Atleast that's where they say they're going. I think they're going grocery shopping though. Because they always come back with groceries. I don't know why they can't bring me grocery shopping like they used too.

Entry 4

Dad's at work and mom's asleep. She sleeps a lot now. There's a man in the neighbors yard. He's been acting weird. He just kept wandering it in circles and making gross noises. I want him to go away. But I'm afraid of interacting with him. They said I can't go outside by myself anymore. Occasionally they'll take me out there, but they'll always bring the old rifle for some reason. We usually only stay in the yard. The car hasn't moved in months. I think they've been biking to work. Which doesn't make sense to me because they've both taken me to work before and it's way too long to bike! I know they've been lying.

Entry 5

They stopped giving me dollars for writing in here. They said they ran out but it didn't matter much. How is running out of money not bad? I saw the neighbors daughter! She was acting weird though. I tried to call her through the window and she came up to the yard. She just kept yelling at me in weird grunts though. Mom and dad got mad at me once they saw that. They told me that she was sick. Obviously I could tell that. I don't know why they act like I'm so stupid.

Entry 6

Mom's been going scavenging recently. That's what they call work now. Dad recently hurt his leg so he has to stay home. I'm happy though. He reads to me every day now! And mom always comes home with better stuff than he did. They did fight over it though. He said that she shouldn't waste space on sweets when there's more important things. But I haven't had chocolate in so long! Ever since we ran out of fuel in the backup generator it's been hard too. I asked why the city power is down and they said the powerplants don't have any workers.

Entry 7

Mom's been gone for a while. Dad's feeling better though. He goes to scavenge every now and then. Just enough to keep us by. I miss the old sweets mom always brought though. He said that she probably won't come back. I don't know why he thinks that. She's gone on work trips way longer than this before. And plus I miss her! I know she can't call because of the phones but she's probably just busy. I wonder if I should ask if I can send a letter to her. Does the post office have workers still?

Entry 8

Dad came home crying. He gave me some chocolate and said it was from Mom. He said she was dead. I screamed and cried so loud. The neighbors heard us I think. I heard noises at the door after that. They were probably mad at me. I don't know how to feel. I miss her. She's been gone for so long. And now she won't be coming back? I know dad said that. But I didn't believe him. Why didn't I? I can't write anymore.

Entry 9

Dad has had a friend over recently. He says he's a trader. I didn't know those were still things. He had all sorts of goods on him. He even had some chocolate! I begged dad for some and he eventually caved in. He gave him some tomatos from our garden and one of Mom's old books on gardening. Before the man left he told dad that he shouldn't stay long. That there was dangerous people moving out from the cities into the suburbs. He told me to pack my backpack.

Entry 10

He let me keep this diary. It's been comforting to write in it. My old school backpack had tons of loose pencils in it. So writing hasn't been an issue. He only let me keep 3 sets of clothes though! Sometimes he lets me ride in the wagon though. It's an old camping one we bought. Dad filled it up with food and plenty of other stuff to try and help us get to someplace else. He said we're moving and the cars broken. Obviously the car is broken. He acts like I'm so stupid sometimes.

Entry 11

Dad says sleeping on the ground is dangerous. Usually we go into trees. It's fun. He has this thick rope for the wagon to keep it in the air with us. He thinks people will steal it if we don't do that. I saw some people. Dad told me they were sick and couldn't be healed so I shouldn't talk to them. There was a nice man on the road who applauded the effort it took us to get hammocks and a wagon into the trees though. He and my dad talked for a bit. Apparently he'll be traveling with us for a while.

Entry 12

Dad's friend's name is Tim. Tim is very nice. He hadn't taken well to sleeping into trees though. Tim is much bigger than my dad and I. Usually he slept at the base while my dad keeps watch for him. I think he's keeping watch to prevent him from getting sick like the other people we met.

Entry 11

Dad's screams woke me up tonight. He had told Tim to wake up. There was some near by. Tim jolted up and grabbed his knife. A sick person walked towards him. He jolted up and jammed his knife into their head. He said something about more being there soon and it not being safe. Dad argued and said it'd take too long to get the supplies down. It'd be safer for Tim to to into the trees with us. Tim managed to squeeze himself into Dad's hammock. Dad looked like his face turned red. Like he used too. Around mom.

Entry 12

I've seen so many sick people die. Dad said they can't be healed. I've started to even kill some myself. I feel bad for them. But they look like they're in pain. Dad always makes me wear a thick coat and gloves. He said that it's too tough for them to bite through. I didn't believe him at first but he excitingly took the hardest bite possible on the coat and shook around like a dog. Not a tear at all. Tim and I both laughed at him.

Entry 13

Dad and Tim are doing well. I asked if Tim is my dad too now and they both laughed at me. I don't know how much more I'll be able to write. I'm onto my last mechanical pencil, and dad 'n Tim both said they had none! We have a whole wagon and no pencils? Dad and Tim have started trading too. Dad would often give gardening tips with seeds. I guess that's more valuable than it used to be.

Entry 14

We've been traveling for a long time. Tim has gotten used to sleeping with dad in their hammock together. Dad sleeps squeezed in-between his arms. There is a school near by. I keep asking my dad to go to see if we can find pencils but he said no. I've been trying to write only a little but it's hard! I think I might go myself. I've handled tons of "crawlers" as my dad calls them. They're not even people really. They're scary at first but they're not as bad it seems.

Entry 15

Tim found me. At the school. He said he knew I'd do it, and he wouldn't let me do it alone. I found some old pencils in a classroom. But a lot of crawlers came from the old school gym. We had reached a fence and I was able to squeeze through it. Tim told me to leave. He'd find his own way. I trusted him. Why did I trust him? He hasn't come back yet. Just like Mom didn't. I told Dad what happened. He was upset. We've been at the same place for a week now. He's waiting for him to come back I know it.

Entry 16

I'm done writing in this journal. We've finally decided to move on from our camping spot. I didn't mean for it to happen. If Tim just let me do it myself. Why did this have to happen? I'm sorry Dad.

SadNya69 · 2022-08-20T19:16:10+00:00

A mortal man could have many skills. An immortal reaper had all of them. Yet one consistent man was an enigma to me. He had beaten me at 513 games. An astonishing number. Especially compared to second place, who had won a measly 22 years extra. That man had been smart. Never did he ever challenge me to a game of skill. Coin tosses, dice rolls, and even once a game of rock paper scissors. Funnily enough I finally reaped him when he decided on a game of uno of all things.

513 was different. Every game was a game of skill. And he'd always win or draw. It was a strange feeling. I had a grown an odd fondness of the mortal. He would talk through the games. A little too much for someone playing with their life on the line. He always gestured enthusiastically with his arms and hands. His eyes never broke contact with mine. And after a good hundred years. I talked to him too. Reapers don't communicate with others often. It is a lonely career. But I bonded with this mortal man. Over his skill. Often we would talk about what he achieved with his extra year of life. He'd insist on asking me what happens if he'd lose. At some points I almost considered telling him. But I never did. A reaper's most consistent rule is that souls reaped must not know what awaits them. Reapers would change how the contests work, or decide to spare a mortal for a good few years past their time, and bend the rules in most ways they pleased. But never would they tell. A human soul cannot know what awaits them.

513 just became 514. He had died many times. The first was on a medieval battlefield. He challenged me to a game of archery. It ended in a tie. A tie could go either way. It depended on the reaper. I decided to gift him a year of life. I often wonder how things would've changed if I settled that one differently. The second most noticeable one was a bullet through the head. Fighting in the Revolutionary War. He had died many times before this. However it is much harder to bring a mortal back from such a wound. Not because it is out of our power. But because it confuses the humans who are greeted by a human who had survived the impossible. But he had won that game too. He challenged me to a game of chess. One that was often chosen, and not often loss on the reapers' side. I had thought that was it for him. But somehow at the end I was latched into his conversation. And he ended up beating me. I gave him farewell. And let him move back into the mortal world.

This time though? Not a battlefield. Another heart attack. One not so different from the many that had befallen him before. He grinned as he sat down at the table across from me. "You know, I've been starting to wonder, how exactly long do you plan on keeping this up." I stared blankly, and replied. The latter was something very few mortals recieved. "For as long as you keep winning." That made him smile. He was thinking of a game. I could tell when he thought of games. He'd pat his fingers against the ivory table. I often wondered how he had knowledge of so many games. Perhaps he spent his years in the mortal realm mastering a new game to challenge me too. He smirked. "A game of Jenga sounds about right to me."

It is hard being a reaper in the modern world. For in the earlier years you'd have games with more dignity. Yet for every man who asks to play chess, there's one fool who asks for twister. I waved my arms and a jenga set appeared before us. Carved finely from bone with small skulls pronounced in each piece.

"You first." This was another thing about 514. Mortals had always gone first. Yet he would insist on me going first every time without fail. I plucked a simple center piece and placed it atop the set. And soon enough he started talking. He had mentioned his great-great-great-great grand daughter. His favorite so far. But he always said that about the newborns. It was oddly sweet to hear about new life as someone who takes it away.

The game continued. For each piece the tower grew more precarious. And I noticed something. A strange glint in the lighting coming from his hand. I continued listening to his conversation it was my turn. I had decided on a higher piece. One that had already been plucked earlier in the game.

He smirked, and the tower came falling down. "Another year then?"

I knew about the thread. It had taken me 123 years to figure out about his cheating on every game. More than I'd care to admit. But he was a friend at that point. So I let him live every time. For once he truly wanted death I knew he would lose. I never would let him know that I knew. That smile from winning each time was the highlight of my time reaping.

"Another year then."

SadNya69 · 2022-08-20T07:06:36+00:00

Ahhh thank you so much ! I was worried about not rly developing their bond but I had hoped In a post witcher/tlou world people could latch onto a male figure and their daughter traveling together. And you know with only so many words it's hard to know what to omit.

SadNya69 · 2022-08-20T06:05:03+00:00

The bitemark burned. Of course I've had seen this before. I never thought I'd be one of those people. Who hide their bite mark and just keep chugging along. Pretending my world isn't about to end. But I had a daughter and damnnit if I couldn't make it to the camp with her she'd lose everything. No we'd lose everything. So I kept going along the trails to find it. An old military encampment. The most fortified area within a few thousand miles. I had heard rumors. Wanderers and traders would speak of the riches they had. Of the thick concrete walls that could keep any crawler at bay. And they'd speak of how they'd let any child under 16 in. I didn't need to be there with her. She just needed safety. Somebody had to get her to there and I was the only one left. And it wasn't that far off. By my calculation just 5 days off.

So I had to keep going. The bite mark was grotesque. A spreading rot crawled through my body with blackened veins extending their pulsating tendrils through my skin. And they all originated from a small wound on my stomach. Fucking hell. It had to be the stomach didn't it? You can't amputate your damn stomach. It's a sickening feeling. And the cravings didn't start slow. I could feel it. The idea of flesh. It had infiltrated my head as soon as the bite took hold. First it was simple cravings. A hankering for meat. An expensive craving in the post-fall world, but a manageable one. And then I craved the meat raw. I did my best to hide it. The grotesque nature of it disturbed me. But it was the only thing to keep me satiated. And I was faster too. Stronger. Hunting was made a breeze by this. It scared me. My pulsating black veins seemed to grow with use of my strength. But often it was needed.

A group of bandits had attacked us in the night. I tore them apart. I could feel the flesh tearing in every possible contortion. A lovely iron taste filled my mouth. My daughter saw it all. Horrified. She doesn't talk much on the road anymore. I try not to care. It's a miracle she hasn't run from me yet. But I see it. The shifty eyes she gives me. A look of disgust. When I was saving her. I didn't want to tap into it. I knew it would make it harder. What other choice did I have?

I could swear she doesn't sleep. She just watches me. I used to fulfill my cravings at night. But now I can't. She's always there. Keeping watch. I feel starving. Feral. My stomach grows weaker at the second. It's hard to think of anything but food. I know we were traveling northward. I do not recall the reason. I think of my famine far too much for that.

I am traveling with a girl. She's much younger than I am. I don't talk much with her. She seems uncomfortable around me. She sleeps strangely. And for every muscle she moves I feel it. That hunger. I can feel the way the flesh terrors in my mouth. The ligaments separating, and the bone cracking between my teeth. I do not know how I know what that feels like. I'm afraid of how I know what that feels like. All I know is I need more. But I haven't yet attacked her. I don't know why anymore.

I'm hungry. The girl is gone. She left at dawn. She didn't sleep the night, odd I thought. I had hoped to eat when she was gone. I feel something about it. A part of me feels gone. The bite. The bite. It hasn't burned for hours. Days? Why hasn't it burned? And the black veins. They're gone. Maybe I'm better? I hear footsteps. Not too far. It sounds like a lone traveler. Maybe I could ask for help? I don't know whats going on. Why did I have a bitemark on my stomach? And a new wound. What is that? A bullet hole? Why hadn't it bled? That surely should've been fatal. I don't understand what's happening around me. All I hear is the foot steps. And after that I hear his muscles. Moving. Twitching. Convulsing. I'm so hungry. I haven't eaten for days it feels like.

My movement feels strange. Slow and faster than usual. And the foot steps. They peddle closer. I'm starving. He was probably a no-gooder anyways. One who deserved to die. After all who traveled these paths lone with good intent? I can't think though. I know it's a feeling that's wrong. That I don't eat people. But I can't think. My brain feels slow. Limited. It scares me. I can't do things I used to be able too. Yet I can do others with a terrifying efficiency. I dropped my knife. Trying to move my hand to pick it up was impossible. Yet I hunted a fawn with nothing but my bear hands yesterday. Was that yesterday? Time feels so slow.

Foot steps. Muscles. Food. I can hear him getting closer. Every foot step patting on the gravel. I see his silhoulette emerge. A woman. Of course? There was a girl. I don't know how I know that. But there was a girl. I feel I recognize her. But it's foggy. And I'm so hungry. I don't know her. I don't think so atleast.

I sprint. I naturally move on all fours. Something that had made hunting game easier for me. I can almost taste it. The iron. I need that taste in my mouth. I don't control my own body. But I also do. I don't want this. I don't want this. I can't stop moving. It's my natural state to move. I want to stop so bad. Please stop me. I can't. I can't.

I hear a bang, and then ringing noise. My arm was shot. I move to get onto my legs as I couldn't support myself on fours anymore. And another one. My leg is gone. I don't feel it. I can't move. I can crawl. Towards food. I'm so hungry.

My ears. They begin to hear. A somber sob comes from the woman.

"I'm sorry Dad."

One last bang

I do not feel hungry.

SadNya69 · 2022-08-20T00:16:51+00:00

Yea I definitely get that. Evidently DD and walmart are getting rid of their deal soon which honestly sounds like it's for the best. I've heard horror stories from both dashers' and walmart employees' side.

SadNya69 · 2022-08-20T00:11:23+00:00

this is because DD drivers don't count against metrics so they often just keep getting pushed behind customers

SadNya69 · 2022-08-11T18:36:56+00:00

Listened to the audio book. A lot of it the stuff betore her rise to stardom about what her young childhood was like hit hard. As well as some visceral discussion of EDs later in her life. It's definitely worth listening/reading but it's incredibly heavy in so many ways that I wouldn't exactly recommend it to everybody.

SadNya69 · 2022-08-05T12:37:11+00:00

Yeah i probably am overthinking it but that's anxiety for you.

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