Bear with me. This is a long story with many people.
To give you some background, I (18F) met Rick (18M), Molly (18F), and Erin (18M) at orientation for college. We quickly became friends and hung out before school year started. At the beginning of the year, we met Ned (18M) who is our friend now. Rick's girlfriend is Alice (18F).
The second day being on campus, before classes started, Rick, Erin, Molly, and I all planned on going out to a club. We pre-gamed beforehand and Rick invited some of his high school friends. One of them, Trey (18M) was oddly and uncomfortably close to me and Molly. By that point, I was drunk and Molly was tipsy. Then, we left to go to the club. While waiting in line at the club, Trey groped me and groped and stuck his finger up Molly's ass. He also repeatedly asked me if I was drunk when he was completely sober or very very slightly tipsy. People in the group noticed his actions and checked in on myself and Molly, but neither of us said anything. He wasn't allowed in the club because he didn't have a fake. The rest of the night was fine.
The night after that, we ran into him after a night out walking to a frat party. He tried to get behind Molly in order to grab her ass. Erin and Ned noticed this and got behind Molly to keep him away.
Rick met Alice and they started dating. A couple of weeks after they started dating, we were all at a frat party and ran into Trey. Trey forced Alice to sit on his lap and proceeded to grope her and stick his finger up her ass. That night, Trey blacked out and woke up in the middle of the street.
Fast forward a couple of months, Rick, Trey, and two other high school friends signed a lease to live in an apartment next year. The two other high school friends are Luke (18M) and Drew (18M). Trey and Luke and currently dorm mates.
Molly, Rick, myself, and other friends were at dinner and Rick ran into Trey. Trey took that as an invitation to sit with us and Rick did not stop him. This caused me to have a panic attack and leave dinner. After this happened, I talked to Rick about his relationship with Trey and him wanting to live with the person who SAed Molly, Alice, and me. He told me he would talk to his future roommates about it. All of them planned a time to meet and talk, but something happened and Luke (Trey's current dormmate) ended up talking to Trey. Luke did not hear what happened from any of the girls who were SAed and that conversation amounted to nothing. It took me up to this point to talk to him about it because their friendship was close to nonexistent (he saw him once every month at best). Once it dawned upon me how close they truly were and I realized what him living with Trey meant; I realized I had to talk to him.
After this conversation, I learned from Drew (a close friend of mine) that Trey has a past in high school for SA and rumors went around about him. Rick, Drew, and Luke did not believe them at the time because the source was not credible.
They continued to move forward with the lease. Recently, Molly, Ned, and I were discussing the situation and decided we needed to sit him down and talk to him. We talked to Alice (Rick's girlfriend) first about her thoughts on the situation. She has previously mentioned she did not want to be a controlling girlfriend and ask him to leave the apartment with Trey.
Sidebar: Alice went through a traumatic experience that led her to be avoidant of conflict.
Once we shared our feelings, she admitted that she also did not like the fact that Rick was in a lease with Trey. Molly, Alice, and I all talked to Rick about the situation and he told us he would get out of the lease with Trey as long as Luke and Drew also agreed. We spoke to Drew (who is a close friend of Molly and I's) and he said the same thing as Rick. Now we had to talk to Luke, who we have meet once or twice, and convince him to leave the lease.
Sidebar again: We called the apartment complex and many managers and higher-ups have confirmed if even one person wants to get out of the lease, they can be placed with random people in another apartment with no change to cost. If two people want to get out, they can be placed in another apartment. If three want to kick someone out, then that person is placed in a random apartment.
After this conversation, Alice saw how stressed Rick was about the situation, so she assured him this was no longer a problem. She said, "She would find a way to be okay with him living with Trey". At this point, Molly and I felt like Rick was disregarding our feelings and were upset by this fact.
A week or so later, rumors were going around that Trey SAed his best friend's girlfriend. AKA Rick's girlfriend Alice. Alice was upset by the fact that rumors were going around. And as previously mentioned, Trey blacked out the night he SAed Alice, so he did not remember that occurring. Alice asked Rick to talk to Trey. Rick told Alice if the conversation went poorly he would get out of the lease with Trey. Trey and Rick talked about the situation. Trey apologized to Alice for SAing her and Alice forgave him.
Ned had to tell Molly and I this information and we do not believe Rick or Alice would have told us unless we asked for an update on the situation. We were furious, to say the least. Molly and I sat Alice and Rick down to talk to them. We explained that he either had to pick us or Trey because we would not allow ourselves to get disrespected by Rick. We set an ultimatum for Rick. Rick explained that he would leave the lease and try his best to get Luke to agree to leave. Molly and I spoke to Luke, as well, and told him in detail what happened to us. In the situation that he could not convince Luke to leave the lease, I asked him to give Trey the silent treatment in the apartment to cut off all ties and his friendship with Trey out of respect for Molly and me (his very close friends). We told Rick if he plans on living with Trey we would take matters into our own hands and contact the complex to try to get him removed.
Now to the present, today Rick spoke to Molly and me. He told us "It does not align with my morals to drop one of my friends" and that he would no longer attempt to leave the lease. He also stated that he would ensure that Trey would not interact with Molly and me. He stated that he understands what Trey did is bad, but he wants to give his friend another chance and help him change.
At this point, Molly, Ned, and I have taken the situation into our own hands. Ned and Molly have a lease in the same complex as them next year. Molly feels unsafe with Trey living in the same complex. Ned and Molly also fear for the safety of women in their complex. They have been in contact with the complex managers in order to see what can be done to terminate Trey's lease. This situation has risen to the complex's legal team. I have provided my statement to the legal team and answered questions in a phone call. Molly has also provided her statement to the legal team. It is my understanding that the lawyers are unable to do anything because there is no police report, news coverage, or any form of evidence. We do not know of any police report from anyone else in previous years and we do not have any evidence to provide besides witness testimony.
WIBTA if I filed a police report in order to help the complex lawyers terminate Trey's lease despite Rick's want to live with him?

I chose the black Jew, Jonathan Lewis, to interpret my present plight as that of a Jew. A descendant of a Jewish family, I do know what it is like to grow up with anti-semitism, yet being black I know what it is like to be black.
Being called nigger by white people is racism, and every black person knows this word’s specific psychological impact on us. Since I am trying to write about the idea that the Jew is made out to be a racist and as such, racist attitudes towards the black person is a logical consequence of what one thinks about the Jews, I choose to interpret the Jew as a racist by saying: if you call the black nigger a racist, then of course I am a racist, because I am a black Jew. That is how such ideological ideas work in the mind.
I hate black people, and I hate racism, therefore the black Jew is racist and anti-semitic. This interpretation feels correct to me.
Besides being racist in the sense of hating racism, I hate racists. I dislike racist people because I am a non-racist. In fact I hate racist people because I am a black person, and every black person knows how it feels to grow up with racism.
Now there are some people who call me a nigger and tell me I am a nigger, because they are racist black people and I have no reason to dislike them, but such a thing is not possible, because the existence of racists and anti-semites is a logical consequence of racist thinking, and anti-semites believe in racism.
If you hate a Jew, you are a racist, and if you hate a racist you are also a racist, and vice versa. I dislike racists. I dislike racist thinking.
Being called a nigger by racists while being a black Jew does not make my view on racism more correct. Being called a nigger makes the black person feel offended by being called a nigger and called a nigger, and I hate feeling offended, therefore I choose not to be offended and not to label the nigger as a racist.
This explains why I dislike being called a nigger, but I do not dislike being called a racist. To hate racism is to hate racists, and to hate racists is to hate the black Jew, and to hate the black Jew is to hate the Jew and be racist in the racist way, and being racist in the racist way means being anti-semitic, thus hating black people.
I want to say that the word “nigger” is not like the word racist, but it has certain psychological and emotional effects on us when the black nigger is called a nigger, and the black nigger knows this word’s effect. But the black nigger does not hate the black people. He knows he is not racist, and if he is called a nigger by racist black people then he feels offended.
If a black person hates racists, then he can not be anti-racist because he hates racists, and if he hates racists he cannot hate the black people, and if he hates the black people he is a racist. I do not hate black people, and to hate black people is to hate black people, and I hate racists, and since I hate racists I hate black people and to hate black people is to hate the black Jew. This is why black people call me a nigger, but not to insult me.
I hate racists. I hate anti-semitism, and I hate racist people because I hate racist thinking and racist attitudes. I hate racist people for thinking racist thoughts.
The word nigger is not an anti-semite word. It does not mean anti-semite to call the black Jew a nigger.
Rather, I reject being called a nigger. I reject being called a nigger by racists. I reject being called a nigger by black people. I reject being called a nigger by black racists. And I reject being called a nigger by jews who consider me a black nigger and try to make me feel like I am anti-semitic.
It is quite different being called a nigger by black people. For the black nigger it feels like being called a nigger by black people makes him feel offended and discriminated against. For the black nigger, calling the black nigger a nigger makes the black nigger feel insulted and discriminated against, and it makes him hate the black people who are calling the black nigger a nigger. The black nigger hates the black people who are calling the black nigger a nigger because it makes the black nigger feel insulted and discriminated against and angry.
Being called a nigger by black people is a psychological and emotional effect, while being called a nigger by racists is a logical consequence of racist thinking, and racists think racist thoughts. Calling the black nigger a nigger is anti-semite, because the black nigger believes he is the nigger and the nigger, and racism leads to anti-semitism, and the nigger believes he is a nigger, and racist thinking leads to anti-semitism.
A nigger, being a black nigger, sees himself as a nigger and tries to be a nigger, and he hates himself for believing himself to be a nigger. I see myself as a black Jew, and I hate myself for being a black Jew, and I hate myself for believing I am a nigger. I hate my Jewy self because I feel like a nigger, and the nigger sees his Jewy self as a nigger and hates himself for believing he is a nigger.

Hi. English isn't my first language so excuse the mistakes.
I just turned 21 a few days ago and my best friend is 23 years old. She's been in a so called situationship since October or November 2022. I always told her to cut the guy off because she always came to me crying and screaming about him. He's not any good for her. OR anyone else. I never met the guy and tbh I don't even want to. She's been telling me ever since they started talking that he scams her and tells her he has big money and cars and everything which she never saw. He always makes excuses to not show her all of his stuff. "Oh, sorry I'm at an important meeting", "The car is at the repair shop" (he said that at least 4 times), or sometimes he even tells her he's abroad so he can't even see her or call her with his own mobile number. He always uses "another phone" and has to call her anonymously.
She kept on meeting him and a few weeks ago they spent a night somewhere. Things happened and now she's pregnant. She chose to tell me on my birthday. During Ramadan while I was fasting. I wasn't even mad I just didn't know what to say or do. She told me she was very happy and she always wanted to be a young mother and that she's keeping it. I tried to talk her out of it and said that in 2 years she'd still be a young mother. "No. That's too late", she said.
Bamboozled I went home, broke my fasting at iftar and just thought about everything. I told her I was gonna help her with everything I can but the minute that guy would do something wrong I'd be furious. She knows I don't trust him and that I despise him because I tell her that almost every day. I will be there for her, but never for him.
Yesterday she decided to tell me her plans. We both come from a conservative houshold so I understand her fear of telling her parents. We both know that they wouldn't accept her anymore and she'd have to move out (she's okay with that). So now she's looking at apartments. With that guy and to make it even better: She wants to move 50 minutes away to another city. Mind you, I still don't have a car so I'd have to go by public transport which would take me almost 2 hrs one way. Atm she lives 10 minutes away. I told her it's never gonna be "I'll be there in 10 mins" again. If she's ever in trouble or needs help during the pregnancy or after she gave birth I wouldn't be able to help her as fast. I'd need at least 2 hrs to get to her depending on where I am atm. It's not only about me but all of her friends too that live in the same city or even further away. We're all adults and have work and our own lives too.
To spice it up even more she told me she's going to marry this guy and probably even before she gives birth. 3 weeks ago she told me that she hates how he treats her and now she's trying to tell me how she's in love with him. I told her that it most likely isn't love but only pregnancy hormones. I get that they're having a baby together and that kind of bonds people but it's not love.
I tried to explain how I feel and told her that she should just take it slow and not quit her job and TRUST him to pay for everything during and after her pregnancy. He never showed her how much money he has, where he lives or what car he drives. But now she TRUSTS HIM!
I tried to take some time to just think and clear my head but she's now mad at me for ignoring her.
Please, what should I do and how shoud I proceed? I care about her very much but I do not for god's sake agree with her choices at all.
​
TL;DR; My bsf is pregnant with a toxic guy. Now she wants to marry him, move to a different city and quit her job to have this baby and I do not agree with her choices. What should I do?

This may seem petty, but it has been killing me lately.
I have a vague recollection of a scene from a movie I saw as a kid. It involved a guy giving his young son (age 12-14) an assault rifle as a gift. The kid gets excited, and gestures with the firearm, saying, "Rambo!" The father and his buddy both laugh in response. The scene cuts away to a couple of women--apparently the wives, including the kid's mom--expressing concern. Moments later, the kid is sitting at his desk--maybe a computer--holding the firearm. He suddenly swivels around in the chair, saying something like, "Dad, what if--"
And the firearm goes off.
I don't remember if anyone got killed or hurt. It did seem like the father and his buddy were in some sort of right-wing extremist group, possibly even a white nationalist or neo-Nazi organization. The movie was apparently set in the present day (relative to its release).
I think it was a made-for-TV movie from some time in the latter half of the 1980s or very early 1990s (say, 1985-91), most likely late '80s. It's possible that it was a theatrical release or perhaps an episode of a TV show and not a movie. I can't be 100%. I have tried IMDb and Google, and watched a few titles that popped up, but to no avail. I don't remember any particular actors or actresses in the scene.
Anyone know what movie I'm trying to remember? Thanks in advance.
​
P.S. Here are the movies I watched that seemed like possible answers, but weren't:
Into the Homeland (HBO, 1987)
Betrayed (1988)
In the Line of Duty: Manhunt in the Dakotas (TV, 1991)

Laravel is one of the most popular PHP frameworks used for web development. It offers various benefits to developers, businesses, and end-users. One of the most significant benefits of using Laravel for web development is the savings in time and money. Here are some ways in which Laravel saves time and money in PHP web development:

1. Pre-built packages: Laravel provides pre-built packages and libraries that help developers to speed up the development process. With these pre-built packages, developers can focus on core functionalities rather than writing repetitive code. This results in a faster development process and saves time and money.
2. MVC architecture: Laravel follows the Model-View-Controller (MVC) architecture, which separates the application's logic, presentation, and data. This separation of concerns simplifies the development process and makes it more organized. As a result, developers can complete tasks more efficiently and reduce development time.
3. Blade templating engine: Laravel's Blade templating engine allows developers to create reusable templates that can be used throughout the application. This eliminates the need to write repetitive code, saves time, and reduces the chances of errors.
4. Testing: Laravel comes with built-in testing features that allow developers to test their code before deployment. This helps in identifying and fixing errors early in the development process, saving time and money in the long run.
5. Scalability: Laravel is a scalable framework that allows businesses to easily add new features and functionalities to their application. This scalability reduces the need to rebuild the entire application, saving time and money.

In conclusion, Laravel offers several benefits that help in saving time and money in PHP web development. By utilizing pre-built packages, following the MVC architecture, using the Blade templating engine, testing the code, and ensuring scalability, developers can complete tasks more efficiently and businesses can achieve higher returns on investment.

I am graduating soon and stressing out big time finding a decent job. I've been working minimum wage jobs for years just to survive, went back to school for second degree after finally realizing my profession. Thinking about all the time I've been through just to have a better career but might not be able to do have a decent one worries me to sick. I do not want to mess around any more at this age of 27 so I tried my hardest the last 2 years to get out of my young, broke, dumb stage. My bf saw all that and insisted to let his dad to pass my resume around.
I am so afraid that if I let my bf's dad help to get hired, it would be a lot pressure in the future since I have to meet people's expectation and not embarrassing him. Also, I don't know how to get over the feeling of not being good enough and owing someone something big.

Although original nature is free from the limits of the particular, it manifests a function of infinite variety. When appearing as delusion, it's called usual, worldly consciousness; when appearing as awakened clarity, it's called wisdom. Realizing the essence is awakening; chasing after phenomena is delusion. Delusion is to be unaware of one's original mind; awakening is to become aware of original nature. When awakened, one is awakened beyond time, and there is no more delusion. It's like when the sun comes out, and all darkness disappears.
It is in contrast to ignorance that one speaks of awakening. Since essentially there is no ignorance, awakening doesn't need to be established either. All living beings, have, since beginningless time, been abiding in the consciousness of truth-nature. In the consciousness of truth-nature they wear their cloths, eat their food, talk, and respond to things... because of not knowing how to return to the source, they follow names and seek after forms. This gives rise to confused emotions and delusions, creating all kinds of karma. If one is able in a single moment to illuminate the essence, then everything is revealed as the sacred heart.
Self-nature is originally complete. If you are no longer hindered by ideas of good and evil, then you are one who practices the Way. Chasing after benefits and rejecting the unattractive, philosophizing about “emptiness” and pursuing special blissful states, all of these are simply worldly, deluded activity. If you seek outside, you move away form it. Just put an end to all mental struggling and figuring... when you no longer grasp a single thought, then the root of birth-and-death is dissolved, and the unexcelled treasury of the Dharma King is revealed.
— Jiangxi Mazu Daoyi [Zen master, 709-788]
_____________________________________________________
Commentary and questions: The Absolute is all of that which you see before you, already wonderfully whole and in complete order for the truly awakened. There is no separation, but there is also no oneness as well; do you understand this? If you don't, then don't despair... it can be said that ultimately you're only a single moment too late and after the fact of the Dharma, but even still it is there among those that have missed it. Yet don't mistake the present moment or even awareness for the totality of ultimate truth either; this is also to be deceived by the myriad things.
To get caught halfway between understanding and not understanding, to feel despair or to still be mired in ego, is to still be within the realm of reacting to worldly phenomena and thus not to be fully awakened. One eye open, one eye closed... in such a predicament only half of the truth has been understood. Yet I ask you, what is that which is beyond all truths and falsehoods?
Those who have been deceived by the myriad phenomena, all of the differing aspects of the original Absolute that can be perceived by the senses, are thus bound by the myriad phenomena and cast about here and there without so much as a choice in the matter. Who among you would dare to look beyond all worldly conditions and circumstances and towards ultimate freedom? It is true that there is freedom from all suffering and delusion, but the price is all of body and all of mind, and not a single trace can be left for the myriad things to assail.

Hi everyone, this is the first chapter of my debut novel. For information and links to other chapters click the link down below :
Reddit - Dive into anything
The Great One sat on his throne, gazing longingly into the hearts of man. Something was coming and he could feel it. Destiny riding on a white steed, like the tales of man long ago, coming to uncover his secrets. He could see it all, the wall, the castle, and the so-called gods that built it all. The ego of these creatures was laughable, if only the Great One could still laugh. He could still speak sure, but only through means not of man’s common means. Vocal cords were a commodity long since lost in this place.
As the Great One observed the coming destiny he could feel the approaching storm, in a hail of flesh and blood, the only things that the Great One lacked. He would never give up, never retreat to these things as they approached, for this was the Great One. He looked back to the castle, viewing the scene in its entirety, and he felt something like happiness enter him.
Divinity. That is what connected the walls surrounding Dundis castle, not stone or metal, this was not a mere wall but a divine gift from ones above. Divinity sealed the wall, made it whole, the walls sealed together without mark or blemish, something no man could ever replicate. The wall had stood for a century, and would likely last ten more, there was no weakness, no flaw in design. 50 metres tall the wall was unscalable, unbreakable. No man could break the wall, it was the Vaunghe empire’s crowning gift, their wonder of the world. Those that were hired to clean the wall’s dirt and grime were heralded as the truly faithful, and all longed to help the gift of the gods. And yet despite this the Alizian’s watched, standing with armies around the great wall, waiting to breach its crust and destroy the core.
The Vaunghe had watched their foes throw everything they had, hundreds of men attacking the steel doors of the wall to no avail, an attempted archer attack quickly squashed by the wall's height. The Alizian military was strong, a blend of the Alizian warriors and Strolim blacksmiths made for a truly terrifying army. The army was so terrifying that the Vaunghe inside the castle doubted there were any more Vaunghe troops left, this was the end to a long battle between man and man. Even the soldiers left weren’t particularly important, just those lucky enough to guard the king and a few trainees. But the Vaunghe felt their luck running out.
The food supplies had run low, even if the nobles weren’t in the castle there was no chance of resupply. The few men who had eaten in the past few days stood alert, gazing down from the ramparts at the enemy. The soldiers knew they had to either surrender or fight, but the Vaunghe were passionate people, they could never leave behind their identity in favour of life. So the men waited, bows and arrows at the ready, for the next attack. Heavy items such as ingots and chairs lined the rampart, ready to be thrown off at a moments notice.
They had waited in this position for many cycles, and as day turned to night, and night turned to day the Vaunghe were exhausted, finished with whatever feeble attacks these barbarians had planned. They could throw whatever armies and arrows they wanted at the wall but it would remain unphased, forevermore. When the Alizian’s next attacked they would be met with the last strength of the Vaunghe, and it would be a story remembered for milenia by man and the gods.
As the morning sun rose over the wall, the enemy was revealed in all their glory. Even from so high above the Vaunghe could see the glint of silver from the Alizian military. The bright greens of the Alizian armour created a dazzling sensation that they were one with the grass, which blended in so perfectly with their clothes. They stood in their thousands, armed with whatever they could find, and even on the wall the men could see him.
The slaughterer, the murderer, the man, the myth and the legend Osmund stood alone on an overlooking hill. The fiend was well known by the Vaunghe, he was likely the greatest foe that had come from the opposing sides. Vaunghe generals often fled at his coming, or surrendered first, but rumour had it that Osmund gave no mercy. Overseeing his army to destroy everything that was left, the Vaunghe soldiers knew today really was the end. The figure on the hill moved closer to his army and screamed. The battle-cry of the Alizian’s shook fear into each of the Vaunghe atop the rampart, being so loud that it even reached so high.
The hundreds of troops began to move in sync, forming three individual groups of soldiers, with 10 metre spaces between each. Each contingent comprised six hundred men, easily dwarfing the 82 Vaunghe soldiers that were left. But the Vaunghe were not afraid, at least not afraid of a breach anytime soon. These walls were built to withstand any damage, no man could breakthrough one.
Between the troops was movement, indeed there seemed to be movement down all three rows of men in blue. The Strolime empire had finally revealed themselves, with their short stature and mental prowess the Strolime were gifted inventors not expected to appear on the battlefield. And yet here they were, almost one hundred of them hauling forth three large metallic objects. The sun bounced off of these objects into the Vaunghe’s eyes.
None of the men had ever seen objects like these, seemingly composed of pure metals and on wheels. Some thought they were a testament to the gods, some holy objects, others believed it to be some new invention from the Strolime, however none of them could say anything for certain as they were pushed closer and closer to the wall. The Strolomites stopped in their advance, approximately 20 metres away from the wall. The purpose of these objects had yet to dawn on the men, although one of the younger men on the rampart claimed he could see small objects poking through the metal, which was now aimed at a forty-five degree angle towards the wall.
As the Strolimites halted their advance many began to move away into the safety of the Alizian wall, likely afraid of any precautionary Vaunghe archers. One of them, a rather short and plump soldier, stayed with the object, placing a hand on it and turning to the wall. It was a fleeting moment, but for a second it seemed the man was gazing at the Vaunghe soldiers in shame. One last condemnation to the ones that began this war, before it would all come crashing down. But then the moment passed, and the short man moved as the rest did, doing a slight zig zag to avoid arrows.
And now, just as quickly they had come, the Strolomite’s were gone in the ranks of the Alizians, still waiting in their groups for something, and then they came. Three figures, two women and a man, moved between the lines just as the Strolimites before them. These three wore no armour, only the greens of Alizia upon their tunics. They stood beside the objects and began to reach their arms into the underside of it. Before the Vaunghe’s eyes the objects began to turn slightly, aiming even more directly at the wall.
One of the Vaunghe had enough of this display, and raised his bow. There were low winds on this day, and he was a good enough shot to reach at least one of the Alizian soldiers. He aimed his bow, finger on the drawstring, and released. It is likely that this arrow would’ve drawn first blood in this battle, however the arrow never reached its target.
In the split second before the release of the bow, the Vaunghe noticed the smoke billowing out of the bottom of the devices, the flames that shot out, and finally they noticed for not even a fraction of a second the object that shot out of the metallic thing, something white and red that hit the wall in an instant.
The wall shook, and the following barrage of these objects shattered any notion of divinity. Crashing and crumbling the rampart was launched, sending soldiers flying everywhere. The Vaunghe beside the wall were subject to the falling rubble, both the crumbling stone of the walls and the miscellaneous objects they had left upon the wall. All of the objects crushed the few Vaunghe left, save for the few sickly starving soldiers left inside the castle’s inner walls.
Down went the walls, such a harsh strike against the wall that nothing stood in the path of this monster. The roaring splattered through the castle, the screams of the falling wall waking the King himself from his slumber. Such a vast creation had fallen in seconds before the might of the Alizian’s, and now there was nothing left but to watch the battle unfold.
Smoke flooded the inner walls of the castle, casting the few remaining into fits of coughing and blindness. The walls finished their crumbling, and yet the roars didn’t stop. These were not the roars of the wall but the war cries of the soldiers outside, and they began to get louder, echoing through the walls of Dundis and into the ears of the weak nobles and soldiers.
Through the smoke they came, weapons raised and charging the weak. The few that tried to fight were slaughtered, cut down by a sea of green soldiers. Those that were choking, sputtering or raising their hands in defeat were spared, hauled through the hordes and into one of the stables facing the inner wall. They were to be tried and jailed, for no human regardless of their crime should be killed. It is simply not the Alizian way.
Out of the one hundred and fifty two people who were in Dundis, forty two had died in the wall’s destruction, and a further eleven were detained by the Alizian military. There was nothing that the Vaunghe could do, save for locking their doors, shield themselves and hold out for as long as possible. The Vaunghe forces built barricades in their castle, locking away the Alizian combatants for as long as possible. And during all of this Osmund waited. Waiting for his time to end this war, this travesty of battle that had gone on for too long, and that time finally came.
* * * *
Osmund stood alone atop the hill, and watched the madness unfold. The walls crumbled at the face of these weapons with no more effort than a straw house, and the plumes of smoke assaulted his men, although not to the extent of the inner wall. After a few moments of sputtering and choking the men cheered, for this was the moment that they had been waiting for, the end of such a long war now in the Alizian’s favour.
The Vaunghe capital was in shambles, their military long crushed underneath Osmund’s almighty power, and all that was left was the King. Hiding behind his walls as if he didn’t deserve this loss, this final failure in his life. Osmund was willing to spare as many people as he could, it was the Alizian code, but there would be no mercy for the King. This wasn’t one final battle between two great armies, that conflict happened weeks ago, this was the last breaths of a psychotic monarch being silenced amongst the last of his troops.
Osmund gazed longingly at Dundis, the ruined walls and advancing soldiers and doubted. He felt something was off, something was very wrong with all of this. His heart began to thump, as Osmund’s eyes turned every way to understand what was wrong, what abnormality was here. It grew and grew, Osmund began to shake at what was about to happen, nothing was right here Osmund should be somewhere else helping someone, there’s something wrong here something very-
Peace. Osmund’s heart stopped thumping, body stopping its perpetual shaking. He looked again to the marching troops, now almost entirely inside the walls, and looked back to his back, and the reserve Strolomites that now stood. They were cheering, marvelling at the success of the assault, and how the god’s gift had saved so much effort on their part.
Such strange creations composed of metal and flame, Osmund marvelled at the power the gods possessed. These devices were so unique in design Osmund doubted if any army could defeat them. The large red tubes they released could easily destroy an entire village by itself, but with one hundred of them an entire valley could be bathed in flames. Something truly abnormal in this world, something so parallel to the code of battle that no army would ever think of it.
The Vaunghe were once considered to be the greatest fighters, with the tournaments they created bringing forth the greatest warriors from throughout the land. Their dedication and power were unmatched in ferocity and violence, some called the Vaunghe the standing due to their unmatched will to always get back up. Osmund recalled his days in the tournaments, those peaceful days when he was not yet a hero to people, but a simple military man. He was still only Osmu back then, and yet even those of the time knew he would be something special. As Christoff used to say, ‘Ozzie you’re going places, big ones’. Osmund missed Christoff, It had been so long since their last meeting, and all Osmund wanted was to meet again one last time.
Osmund’s assistant came to him, a younger Strolomite by the name of Gizmu. Gizmu was rather muscular for a Strolomite, a strong figure contrasting his associates' plumper bodies, and stature was fairly tall for one of his people at 6’5 ft tall. Hazel hair protruded through a blue helmet, and for the first time Osmund considered what his assistant could look like. Gizmu was one of the many Strolomite’s who refused to show their face until military success, a tradition that Osmund respected. He had no doubt that Gizmu's true face would one day be revealed to him, as the man possessed genuine prowess in the fields of agriculture, something sorely missed in the modern military.
“Osmund, your team is preparing now, they’ll come soon. I advise you to prepare your armour sir, as it won’t be long before you’re sent in.” Osmund sensed mild concern in Gizmu’s voice, but didn’t pursue it.
“Thank you Gizmu, my friend. I’ll begin my preparations, tell the guests to meet me here when they are fully prepared. And do ensure they understand that there is still risk of injury on this mission, ensure each of them wears their armour.” Osmund’s voice was deep and echoed his long life, commanding a sense of authority amongst all Alizian forces.
Osmund left the hill, passing the cheering Strolomite’s and the peasant farmers who supported the army, and entered the rows of tents. They stretched out on either side, one for every four soldiers, until he reached his own tent. Entering Osmund was surprised to discover a fellow commander still asleep in his bed, snoring away peacefully.
Osmund removes his upper clothing, the clean tunic falling to the ground. While removing these clothes Osmund kicks the sleeping man in the leg, which doesn’t actually amount to anything rather than halting his snoring. Osmund kicks the sleeping soldier again, this time in the buttocks, which does a far better job of riling him. The man looks around wide-eyed, before settling onto the sight of the giant Osmund.
“Hey, why'd you kick me? I almost had a bleedin’ heart attack don’t you know not to meddle with a sleepin man?”
“Don’t you know that you were meant to be on the battlefield at the crack of dawn? I don’t know what kind of promotion you’re expecting when you aren’t even going on the battlefield. Do you really want to be Balmun forever?” Osmund spoke coldly, now reaching for his chestplate.
“Well no sir. But the thing is I actually have a very cunning plan, I thought of it all myself.” A smile falls upon the man’s face, whose head bears an uncanny resemblance to a potato.
“And what is that?” Osmund halted his preparations briefly.
“Well if I say I was there but didn't actually go, who’d think I wasn’t? I can just sleep through it all until the battle is won and no one would be the wiser.” Osmund puts a hand onto Balmun’s fleshy shoulder.
“A fine plan, if I wasn’t your commanding officer you buffoon. By the gods I believe some divine creator mistakenly put a turnip in your head instead of a brain because no noble’s son has ever been as frankly idiotic as you have. You’re coming with me to the battlefield, and I suggest you get dressed or you’ll be facing the last of the Vaunghe army with your flopping cock dancing for all to see.” Balmun stood and began to slip some clothes on, as Osmund completed his own set of armour.
Osmund’s armour bore the mark of a noble family, some rich fools who wanted their family crest to be associated with a bloody conflict and a dangerous murderer. Osmund wore it because of the armour’s quality, customfit to encompass Osmund’s 9’5 ft tall body, something no other armour was able to achieve. Osmund’s height was always an oddity, reaching far above the average 8ft heights of most Alizian’s, and making him one of the tallest figures in the lands. It was this height and his skin’s colour that earned him the name of the black death, which he wasn’t particularly fond of due to the mention of his skin. And even then Osmund certainly didn’t feel like a black death, whatever that was meant to be, rather he felt like death itself. Osmund was to be fifty years old by the end of the week, and it showed on his body. The hair that was left on his head was grey, and while still possessing an impressive form Osmund’s body was not in its prime, he was old.
Osmund looked at himself in the full body mirror, grabbing his longsword and leaving the tent, dragging a half dressed Balmun with him. Back through the tents they travelled, back past the now eager Strolomite’s and atop the hill where Osmund’s infiltration team stood. In any other battle Osmund would’ve despised the one that left this group with him, a collection of subpar and mediocre soldiers with all the military future of an Otter in a stew. But then again Osmund’s battle history did feature a lot of important people dying under his watch, so perhaps this was for the better.
The force began with Edmun, a cross between a prostitute and a noble who unfortunately takes more from the noble. An egotistical brat, as well as a greedy goblin of anything that isn’t bolted down, Osmund had borne the unfortunate duty of his company for months, since the initial assault on the capitol. The man could barely hold a weapon, save for slight skill with a flail of all things which he wore by his side. It was a gold plated flail as well, specifically made for beating in the heads of the poor Vaunghe soldiers stupid enough to get close. Blonde hair obscured blue eyes that spoke to his red-light mother, in fact for a noble’s son Edmun had all the appearance of an incestuous dullard. The man had survived by pure luck, and was the only casualty that Osmund wanted his side to suffer.
The Enick twins Humun and Eumun were up next, named after their family crest of the god of alcohol Enick. In contrast to Edmun these were a pair of real soldiers, Osmund had seen the fruits of their labour many times. They were great at the art of flanking, Humon’s greataxe paired alongside Eumun’s spears proved to be an unbeatable combination. The only issue that Osmund had with the pair was their… peculiar relationship. While the two were great fighters, whenever they were together anything else became impossible to comprehend. Osmund had once caught the pair attempting to seduce a goat wearing a knight’s helm, and while they were drunk there is still clear evidence of idiocy amongst them. The pair were identical in appearance, burly figures of 8’5ft, short cut black hair and overgrown beards stretching down their faces, however the distinguishing feature between the two was Eumon’s cleft lip, which gave his speech a lisp.
Josmu was far more a scholar than a soldier, although Osmund enjoyed his presence greatly. Since they first met the pair had hit it off, often discussing each other’s lives in Alizian taverns across the kingdom. A gifted archer, Josmu was the son of two aspiring poets and enlisted into the military voluntarily to assist in the war efforts. Osmund had a great deal of respect for the man, and hoped that the two would one day have a drink together, and ruminate on the past once more.
And then there was Jumun, a gifted soldier and one of the few Osmund thought could take him in his prime. Long strands of red hair ran down her rough face, a pointed nose and peculiar eyebrow shape giving her a perpetual look of disappointment. At a height of 9’2 ft she stood almost toe to toe with Osmund, in fact there were many aspects about her that reminded Osmund of himself. The first was her attitude, she treated every war as a tragedy of its own, and yet she would never fail to perform against her enemies. Skilled in most weapons Jumun’s life had been long and arduous, her worn out armour covered in patches and dents. Osmund had offered her a new set of armour once, to which she vehemently refused, telling Osmund that she wished to end the war in the armour she started it in. Currently she held a single large sword nearly identical to his own, and Osmund predicted that she couldn’t wait for the battle to be over.
The group stood facing the smoking walls, watching the now descending Strolomite’s retrieve the three gifts from the gods. Pushing them back up the hill would take tremendous strength and a long time, which is why nearly double the number of Strolomite’s assisted in the endeavour. Osmund cleared his throat, prompting the looks of the team. All of their eyes were of Balmun, who was somehow already panting after a 2 minute drag through the ground. Osmund released the man and pushed him towards his new comrades, to which he sulked.
Osmund could see through the smoke of the ruins now, noting the strangely high number of bodies present from Osmund’s view. It appeared that there were more forces than originally estimated, as it was initially guessed there were around one hundred and fifty soldiers inside. Judging by the number of corpses inside those numbers clearly forgot to account for the possibility of trainees inside of the castle. This may be a slightly larger fight than initially predicted, although even supposing there were another hundred or so trainees locked inside rooms there were things Osmund could do against that.
“Alright then, good to see that some of you actually bothered to wake up today, Balmun, and I think we all know that this mission is going to end the war.” Balmun raised his hand.
“Yes Balmun?”
“Sir I have a very cunning pl-”
“Shove your plans up your slacker buttocks, you idiot. Now then, I’m gonna say this once, because quite frankly the more chances I give Balmun to interrupt the more likely I’ll butcher myself with this sword. Now then we are the backbone to the forces, our mission is to help take individual points of conflict from alternative points. We will accomplish this with the leaked maps of the castle gained from Vaunghe intelligence. Now then, originally it was believed that we were dealing with only around one hundred and fifty troops, but it looks like someone didn’t remember the number of rookie troops that are trained here, so we could be looking at a few more troops than expected.” Osmund saw the hand raised but tried to ignore it. The man with the potato for a head seemed adamant however, and raised his hand higher. When that didn’t work he raised both arms.
“By the gods what is it?”
“Well sir, what kind of weapons do you think they have?” Osmund stopped in his tracks, not expecting anything even related to an actual important question. A smile formed on his face, it seems that even fools can think every now and again.
“Decent question my friend, we can probably expect the basic mix of swords and axes, likely shields also, but we may have one or two archers running around however it’s unlikely any survived the wall’s collapse.”
“That is good Osmund, once we take a few down I need a weapon, I like the swords myself.”
“What’s wrong with your sword?”
“I left it in the tent sir.” Osmund cupped his hands into his face, cringing against the stupidity of this man.
“Listen…. just everyone follow me please, I mean by the gods man. Come on. Listen I don’t think we will need any armour with us today, we have the single thickest piece of meat just over there as we speak.” Osmund points towards Balmun, who turns to see what everyone is looking at. Without another word Osmund begins to walk down the hill towards the castle, muttering things that even the gods consider a little racy.
* * * *
The ruins of Dundis stood firm in their strength, with the ruined walls blemishing what was once a grand fortress that none had penetrated. Tall spires protrude from the shapeless stone complex. Along the gateway was a path leading directly into the Dundis entrance, which stood slightly ajar. Fragments of the wall had crushed many parts of the outside, with simple wooden stables and trees crushed by the weight of the plummet of the debris. The architecture that remained spoke to the complexities of the Vaunghe, as spiralling patterns adorned the walls of the castle, interlaced with rare jewels that coated the walls. The Vaunghe were so fortunate with minerals that one could find them coating their walls, despite the fact that no one other than a fellow Vaunghe was ever meant to see such a thing.
A veil of embarrassment and determination clashed as the group descended the hill, weapons at the ready. The group had reached the ruins of the wall now, debris coating the grass and the bodies that were surely there. Even destroyed Osmund still felt some of that divine power the Vaunghe always babbled about, he felt the strength in the walls and not for the first time wondered why the gods would bestow such a gift upon such a vile group.
The group began clambering through the ruins, over the cracked pieces of stone and through the divine walls final remains. There was a smell here, the remnants of smoke colliding with the smell of blood, but there was a third smell, one that Osmund knew well. It was the smell of inevitability, heavy in the hair. That which is unlikely to happen always will happen, and when it does the smell adds to it all, the smell of fate and destiny runs through this place.
Inevitability hides everywhere, in the trees and the skies, carried by the wind through it all. From nature it was born, but in man it thrives, the building’s will one day fall, the kingdoms will fade away, and everything will one day lead to something else. From every beginning comes an end, and each end becomes a beginning, this is how it has always been. This place thought itself against such things, and inevitability infected its walls, creeping along slowly rotting the once great walls into a hellish nightmare. Now the bubble has burst, and the smell of inevitability crowds the world, taking over everything.
Moaning. A low whimper. A cry for something. Calls for assistance. A terrified yell. Osmund approaches the source of these noises, his team close behind. At the source of these screams is a Vaunghe soldier, somehow alive after the rampart’s collapse, covered in piles of stone and smoke. His outstretched hand reaches towards Osmund, who in turn takes it.
The man mutters something, sputters blood, and begins to fade. As he does, Osmund moves towards the rocks, feeling against it. Somehow the rocks aren’t as heavy as they should be, and Osmund slowly moves the rocks. The first and second rocks move, and after some struggling Osmund moves the third rock, revealing a bloody leg, spurting forward. Osmund realises how the man survived, the remains of a metal box squashed around him. As the rampart fell the man landed inside, narrowly missing an immediate demise. Now he sat, bleeding in and out of consciousness, and moaning for help. Osmund put his hands around the man, slowly lifting him, and moving forwards into the inner walls.
There are running medics here, and as they see Osmund’s approach they run to him, taking the injured man and placing him onto a table. The man may survive, they told Osmund, however his bleeding may take too much from him. As Osmund turns to leave he hears the voice, the message of the man.
“T-t-th-than-” It was shaky, interrupted by coughs and convulsions, but bore strength, and Osmund felt the ghost of a smile play upon him.
“It wasn’t an issue.” And with that Osmund left the tent, admiring the surroundings in focus for the first time. Eyes bore into him from his party, and yet no one said anything, they couldn’t. Many had called Osmund a monster in his time, they had seen him do bad things to bad people, and yet none would call him a monster, for there is no such thing. Osmund is not some black death, he’s another beast entirely.
For the first time Osmund admired his surroundings, the inner walls were now filled with wreckage, and looked back to the tent. It was amazing how quickly the medics could establish tents, the battle had occurred for less than an hour and already there were three tents established side by side. Besides the wounded Vaunghe soldier were three other injured soldiers, each seeming to be hit by a minor injury likely from the smoke inhalation.
The captured and surrendered were lined up against the castle's wall, being carefully monitored by over sixty members of the contingent. There were only around twelve or thirteen of the captured, smoke-covered and sputtering. On the ground were bodies, those rookies that tried so valiantly to protect what they cared for. They now lay, looking up to the sky blindly.
Osmund saw the bodies and felt his stomach turn. The desire came back. The shaking returned, alongside it the painful sharp stabbing thoughts. Everything changed, he forgot who he was. What kind of person would approve of this, what even was Osmund was he real or fake, how is he even conceiving things like this. What is reality and why is it real, why can’t he understand-
Silence. Peace. Osmund returned to himself, the shaking never happening at all. He looked down at the bodies and continued to walk. There was nothing he could do for them, not anymore. The eyes of his group bore into him, shattering something that had broken a long time ago. He raised his hand and motioned for his team to follow, leaving this travesty of death and life behind.
Footsteps. Osmund turned to their echoing sound, the way they bounced through the place was unbelievable, the way it echoed between the walls and the castle structure itself. Through open castle gates he ran, a messenger in green, sword in its scabbard and now approaching Osmund. The man tripped on something, a large rock of some sort, before standing, dusting himself off and reaching the group.
“Osmund, we have hit the enemy’s points of defence.” The man was young, maybe twenty, and no more than twenty five.
“And? Where are they?”
“There are three fronts, the first is in the scout’s tower where a group of Vaunghe are amassing weapons and barricades fast. We can no longer enter the tower, as the amount thrown down makes common entrance impossible. The second location is the garden, where we believe the last of the nobles and the King himself are. We’ve faced harsh opposition from the enemies, who have formed a wall of shields to protect the door. Finally we have the guard’s quarters, where a few amount of Vaunghe are in active combat as we speak, although that will likely be taken without need for intervention.”
“Good job soldier.”
“Thank you sir.”
Osmund removes a slip of paper from his garb, and admires it in the sunlight. It was a complex map of Dundis, including the secret passages and escape routes of the entire place. It cost the annulment of many Vaunghe men and women, but was worth all the effort. Consulting the map Osmund noted the existence of an escape passageway inside of the tower. It was obscured behind a wall, thus explaining the lack of windows on that side.
“Report back to your commander that we’ll begin with the tower, there are several clear passages into an alternative staircase. Launching a pincer attack we’ll defeat the enemy and allow for the redistribution of forces. By that time I expect the guard’s quarters to be taken, allowing us to completely overflow any opposition protecting the garden.”
“Yes Osmund, I will inform her now.” And with that the young warrior ran back through the castle’s long iron gates.
And thus, the final battle was upon them. Osmund looked upon Dundis, the last symbol of the people who had taken everything from him, the ones who had slaughtered so many innocents, so many that Osmund cared for, and now the end was finally in sight. But it didn’t feel like the end, Osmund could feel no conclusion approaching, it felt like something else, as if this was all leading into something more, some grand massacre the likes of which Osmund had never seen. There’s a darkness ahead, something far worse to come than the echoes of a fallen monarchy, and as Osmund stands he can feel it inside of him, gesturing sensually, awaiting his return to the beginning. In a mental prison of nonexistent existence lies the mother, a slight smile on her lips. She awaits the grasp of Osmund forevermore.

HOW DOES WORKFORCE PLANNING WORK?
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So, I'll keep this quick, but I've noticed that when people talk about finding better jobs, they never talk about what they're doing to improve their living situation while working at Amazon. Everyone dreams about their future career, but let's not forget about the present. Something you can do to improve your life now is to have an excellent credit score. It'll make life much easier, the lower interest rate on loans, better housing opportunities, the power to negotiate pricing, and so much more.
Everyone is always talking about their wages, but they aren't actively attempting to lower their cost of living while improving the quality of it. Use coupons, use Amazon's discount code, find sources that give you legal discounts, and more. If you have a bad credit score, you're practically throwing money out of your life when it could be used elsewhere, bringing you some benefits. Not to mention, you'll always get treated with respect when doing big transactions. If you want that luxury or fancy car, it is yours, no hassle, no second guessing if it's within your budget; you let your credit score do the talking. Same story with housing; having a good credit score shows you're responsible and that you'll take care of the property or make payments exactly when they're due.
If you don't have a credit card, get one now. Make the minimum payment every month when it is due, do this to build up your credit score. This is your future we're talking about. You can either continue sitting on your hands, waiting for things to improve, or you can take action and improve your life situation now.
Disclaimer: This is my own opinion; you're free to make no changes to your life. This is based on my perspective of cultivating a 700+ credit score, and I felt I should share some of this advice because it could help someone who hasn't thought about this.

I’ve suspected for a few years now that I have ADHD, so I was hoping to share my experience with you!
So this might be a long one…
As a young child, everyone described me as a golden child, I wasn’t disruptive and I was polite. But in all honestly, my brain just wasn’t there.
I was pretty underperforming in primary school throughout, but because it wasn’t drastic it wasn’t picked up on. In subjects I found deathly boring I couldn’t concentrate at all, and I realise now I dissociated for a huge part.
BUT, in things I did love (art) I couldn’t be pulled away, I remember in year 2, we were colouring and I was told I had to go for break, I literally begged the teacher to let me finish it. It felt like, wow, there’s finally something I want to do and I’m not allowed to!?
Anyways, I want to add that I switched on to how I was different from a very young age, and I had a huge fear of doing anything.
A lot of times, in sports, I was told the rules and it’s like they went through one ear and out the other. I was aware there were things I couldn’t do and I avoided them like the plague. I also remember in year 5, a boy had the same birthday as me, and I said “we’re the same age, but you’re taller than me, you’re a boy, and, you’re also smarter than me”
It breaks my heart but I had the perpetuating belief that I was stupid, because, I just couldn’t do what everyone else was doing. I would be lying if I didn’t say that belief wasn’t still underlying.
Year 6 was a funny time, I had moved house and school, because we were so close to the school my mother figured I could take myself there (she worked nights so wasn’t around in the morning) and oh boy, I was late almost everyday. The school new how close I lived and were baffled 😂
I also was in detention pretty much every week because I completely forgot there was homework even due. It was during this time my teacher realised I was behind on maths, and I was kept behind on Thursdays, funnily enough the 1-1 engagement really helped.
Fast forward to secondary school (high school) I dropped sets almost instantly, because I just couldn’t focus. And it’s like all my anxiety about fitting in disappeared, I was so angry at the world, I was frustrated, lost and had no hope for the future.
I won’t go into details, but I developed self harming habits to deal with the lack of control I felt. I was constantly late, staying up late, skipping meals, underperforming, I became disruptive, constantly in isolation, skipping class, and whilst everyone knew there was something wrong with me, nobody dug deeper.
I left school with average grades, I excelled in the arts, everything else was meh. (I did my revision on the bus to my exams)
And then life got more interesting! I went to sixth form, got so behind I dropped out, went to college, got kicked out.
I worked several jobs, which I would love for a while until, one day, I just didn’t. I felt burnt out and then would quit on a whim. I also got fired.
I developed bad habits with drugs, and I had toxic, short lived relationships.
I decided one day to reset my life and went to university. Lectures were hell, so I didn’t go. Which is when I realised the power of HYPERFOCUS. I did all my assignments the night before to which my friends were like wtf how have you got better grades than us. I kept telling myself after every assignment that I would be different next time.
buuuuuuut, it’s like time disappeared and I was in the same situation again. I graduated though!
Now I’m back to working my life is kind of hell, I forget to pay bills, I find shopping overwhelming, I play too many games, I get behind on cleaning duties, I would lose my head if it wasn’t on my body, I can’t meet deadlines, I can’t feed myself, I can’t manage money, I’m so emotional, I don’t believe in myself, I die inside at the thought of rejection.
And so on… I have an assessment in July, and I’m hoping for some answers.
If you got this far without getting bored CONGRATULATIONS and have a beautiful day.
Edit: I realise whilst this post is quite negative, I’m excited to get answers! And whilst it’s hard to manage things right now, I know it’ll be easier in the future. For anyone wondering I also don’t engage in any self harming behaviour of any kind.
I do have a negative inner voice, but again, something I’m working on!
I’m really proud of how far I’ve come from the person I used to be.

TLDR: FINRA has access to what in any other organization would be considered massive amounts of insider information. It also has a massive conflict of interest in the form of a 1.6 Billion dollar investment portfolio. The portfolio of the Self Regulatory Agency is largely unknown and is largely (if not completely) unmonitored by any other regulatory agency(s).
I would be really, really curious to know how much of that portfolio is short?
In addition to massive conflicts of interest and minimal supervision from the SEC, FINERA does not appear to be directly accountable to Congress, rather than direct accountability FINRA instead invests a lot of money in lobbying. In 2012, it spent $960,000 as it pushed for legislation that would allow it to expand its regulatory reach to include RIAs, who are now primarily regulated by the SEC.
FINERA should have no ability to halt any stocks or securities while it is invested in the very markets it purports to regulate.
https://www.mercatus.org/media/46396/download
”LACK OF ACCOUNTABILITY”
”By law, the SEC is in charge of Finra and has the power to approve or reject any rules Finra wants to adopt. But it applies little more than a rubber stamp to Finra’s rules, critics say.”
“In practice, Finra operates with substantial independence from the SEC,” Hester Peirce, a senior research fellow at the Mercatus Center at George Mason University, noted in a 2015 paper. “Finra rules do not typically attract close attention from the SEC commissioners.”
”Finra operates with substantial independence from the SEC.” - Hester Peirce
(Source deleted)
”The Government Accountability Office likewise found that the SEC could be doing a better job of overseeing Finra in a 2012 report and a follow-up report in 2015. In the follow-up report, the GAO said the SEC had improved its monitoring of Finra but that it still needed to develop specific performance goals and measures for Finra oversight, formalize documentation of oversight determinations and perform an assessment of Finra’s internal risks related to staffing and priorities.”
https://www.investopedia.com/ask/answers/how-does-finra-differ-sec/
“Although it has regulatory powers, FINRA is not part of the government. It is a not-for-profit entity and the largest self-regulatory organization (SRO) in the securities industry within the U.S.”
”FINRA stands for "Financial Industry Regulatory Authority" and is a not-for-profit organization overseen by the SEC that seeks to protect investors by primarily overseeing all brokers in the securities marketplace. It lays out specific laws and requirements and provides certificates for individuals to be able to operate in the securities market.”
”FINRA is responsible for overseeing virtually all U.S. stockbrokers and brokerage firms and providing avenues and legal certifications for those individuals to appropriately operate in their specific marketplaces.”
https://www.wsj.com/articles/wall-street-regulator-is-also-an-investorwith-meager-returns-1507195803
”Finra's $1.6 billion portfolio has returned 3.4% annually, versus 6% for a half-stock, half-bond portfolio.”
https://www.investmentnews.com/finra-denies-wsj-report-that-regulator-has-underperforming-portfolio-72391
”Finra denies WSJ report that regulator has underperforming portfolio. Regulator says Journal's analysis makes improper comparison of returns.”
”From Finra’s origins in 2004 through 2016, the Financial Industry Regulatory Authority’s actively managed $1.6 billion investment portfolio has returned 3.4%, or $440 million less than a 6% return had the self-regulator invested in a balanced mix of global stocks and U.S. bonds, according to Wall Street Journal calculations of figures in Finra’s annual reports.”
https://www.investmentnews.com/finra-whos-watching-the-watchdog-72102
”Finra wields enormous power over the lives of brokers and broker-dealers. Last year alone, it issued more than 1,400 disciplinary actions and barred more than 500 brokers from the industry. And yet people in the industry know little about how Finra operates, how it spends the millions it collects in membership fees and fines, and how it sets its regulatory agenda. Finra writes its own rules, meets behind closed doors and releases information if and when it deems necessary.”
”Finra is the watchdog that no one is watching. “It is largely unaccountable to the industry or to the public,” David Burton, a senior fellow in economic policy at the Heritage Foundation, wrote in a February report. “Due process, transparency and regulatory-review protections normally associated with regulators are not present, and its arbitration process is flawed. Reforms are necessary.”
”In an InvestmentNews survey of 363 readers who are regulated by Finra, nearly half — 48% — said the organization is not doing a good job of regulating brokers, compared with 29% who said it was. Meanwhile, 61% said Finra is not transparent about its finances, and the same percentage said the SEC’s oversight of Finra is inadequate.”
“Is it [Finra] a government or not a government agency? As long as there’s not a choice for brokers, it’s a monopoly – and monopolies need to be regulated.”
”Jim R. Webb, CEO, Cape Securities Inc. Jim R. Webb, CEO of broker-dealer Cape Securities Inc., is frustrated that Finra acts like a government agency but does not have to follow the laws that govern public agencies. For example, it is not subject to laws that would allow the public to attend its meetings, nor is it subject to the Freedom of Information Act, which allows anyone to request information about any matter from a federal agency.”
”Finra protects itself from lawsuits from members by claiming that as an SRO it has absolute immunity from private lawsuits challenging the conduct of its regulatory mission.”
“There needs to be definition,” Mr. Webb said. “Is it a government agency or not a government agency? As long as there’s not a choice for brokers, it’s a monopoly — and monopolies need to be regulated.”
From a seeking alpha article that I cannot link due to Reddit blocking the site. (just search for the title, top result)
Why Does FINRA Have An Investment Portfolio?
Oct. 11, 2017 12:10 PM ET By Roger Nusbaum, AdvisorShares ETF Strategist
”FINRA has an investment portfolio with a long track record of underperforming a 50/50 portfolio.”
”So, here’s a weird one involving FINRA that you might have picked up in the last few days. Apparently, it has a large, $1.6 billion investment portfolio, and the returns have been weak, according to the Wall Street Journal, underperforming a 50/50 equity/fixed income portfolio for quite a few years.”
”The WSJ article is woefully incomplete. It doesn’t say what the purpose of the portfolio is, it is unclear how it can even have a portfolio, and there are no specifics as to what the portfolio is benchmarked to other than a reference to a custom benchmark. The origin goes back to 2004, and it came out of the blocks trying to emulate the college endowments, which back then were revered. As a side note, the tide may have gone out some for quite a few of the endowments, but there is still plenty to learn about asset allocation from them.”
”As the story goes, the FINRA portfolio decided to significantly reduce its equity exposure in, um….2009. The article provides no details on how much equity exposure it had back then, but the portfolio underperformed a 50/50 in 2008, or how much it has now, but there is a quote from a spokeswoman about targeting a “much more conservative approach than a 50/50 benchmark.”
The rolls and activities of our regulatory agencies needs to be seriously examined and heavily re-evaluated.

Singapore is quite western-washed in term of fashion as we can always see many guys around age 20-30 on the street dressing like Ang Moh (polo shirt + tight shorts + comb back hairstyle) but I bet they don’t realise they look totally different from the Ang Moh they picture themselves to look like.
Ang Moh have sharper facial features + narrower head shape + broader frame in general so they can look good in their style.
But for copycat sinkies especially Chinese have wide/round head + thick hair + no facial hair so they look like a total clown when they try to replicate the Ang Moh look.
The same also goes for girls, want to look more westernised by not wearing any makeups like Ang Moh girls. But I bet they don’t realise Ang Moh girls have very thick eyebrow + long eyelashes in natural so they are still presentable while SG girls especially Chinese looks like literally young aunties.
I bet this is one of the reasons why SG has the least attractive people in Asia bc so many people here look yellow but tried the hardest to paint themselves white instead of putting effort to make their yellow look more eye-pleasing.
SGreans should see more how people from other East Asia countries dress like instead of blindly following how western people dress.

The question(s) at hand: If you had the choice, in a perfect world, what would you do? Woule you choose to stay at home with your kids? Or get into/stay in your careers?
The context: My (26f) boyfriend (25m) had a late night discussion about our future together. We’ve been together almost 2 years now and we have always expressed wanting children someday. He is currently going back to school to have a career. Ultimately, he wants to have a family some day that he can support financially. With this, however, he wants a life that he had growing up: one parent working and the other parent being home with the kids.
I did not have this arrangement growing up. My parents divorced when I was young and they had to work. I finished my masters degree and just got a promotion in a job that I feel secure in and can see myself staying in. I’ve always prided myself on my work/school achievements and when my boyfriend brought this up, I was taken aback.
I do not have kids so I can’t speak to the sacrifices it takes for both parties involved to make and maintain a happy, healthy family unit. I didn’t say that I would be against being a SAHP for some time, but rather I didn’t know yet. He seems like he knows what he wants and I should know, too. I know we’re young and there’s so many unknowns, but we want to know if our priorities are aligned now. Rather than finding out the hard way later.
Also, I recognize the immense privilege we would have to have for this theoretical arrangement to be feasible. I know being working parents is the reality for most.
All this to say…. Parents, if you could have it your way, in a perfect world, what would you do? Go into/stay in your career? Be a SAHP? Really, any advice would be appreciated if you have had experiences like this in your life.
Thanks for reading and for your advice.

After a chat which lasted 20 minutes, one coworker that is more of a close friend started talking about life in general and I said something about how anxious folks often black out in their mind when they speak which may doesn't make sense to others as our mind is blank but body overactive.
I said "You don't look like someone who's overly anxious" but he said he's diagnosed with mild depression and anxiety which resulted later in life.
I told him about how I was always prone to anxiousness in my early childhood and started showing symptoms seriously when I was 12 with DPDR, depression when I was 13. I told him that I was also diagnosed with depression, insomnia and GAD when I was 16 but also with BPD 4 years ago.
He was confused and said that it's impossible, I had no fall outs, it seems like I have boundaries and principles, I seem sure of myself, I seem very calm and rational.
I find that this is my mask, this is also confirmed by my family. I'd rather die than let someone know how much I'm struggling. I'm the kind of person who's so lost but is grasping onto what they know to elevate anxiety.
Symptoms I share with BPD is impulsiveness but not the strong one, it's like when I'm stressed I start being social, binge drinking, not eat, take psychoactive substances, be more active, pick fights a bit more easily but also prone to uncontrollable SH which did lead to diagnosis. My mood swings aren't bad, it's just that I repress my emotions, just fluctuating confidence and as said by others, one day I laugh at their jokes and be extra social and then the next I could disapprove everything said with judgmental expression even if the joke was the same or like having only one day in a week where I'm extra happy and other days I'm left with no energy and snappy. I have rejection sensitivity and last summer I was exposed as having feelings for someone, I was freaking out but this guy came, heard and left in fury. In the same moment, I felt nothing and just said "Let's play beer pong 1v1" as a way to black out and usually this is how I deal with emotions. However, 2 weeks later we were at the party and I went to the toilet and some guy that likes me also went and this guy said "You must be popular among guys" or something like enjoying the spotlight and I attacked him badly, I said something about how I'm not even that kind of girl, what he even think he's accomplishing with that and that it's disgusting. I don't remember what I say under bout of anger but I also split a lot when I'm close to someone, only then you can see my split. I deal with chronic dissociation, DPDR and some kind of amnesia where I don't remember my life when I was younger than 6 and later from 7-12, it lead to people telling me a lot of stuff which I don't know and it left me confused such as me thinking I spent my childhood in a room with computer playing games just for my dad to say I was very social and wouldn't come home from playing with my friends until dark or also not remembering people who used to visit us constantly which is embarrassing, I've lived here since I was born yet I know no one. Lastly, while I seem to have unshakable identity, it mostly comes from my observations of others and thinking through their motives so I stop everything before it even happens, critical thinking and reacting from fear. I've always had better than average critical thinking skills as said by my first grade teacher in elementary school but I was not aware of that. I have no idea who I am, what I stand for, who I want to be or if I'm even able to be "someone", who I was, am I chill or am I temperamental (people are also confused) and simply my identity is badly separated from my consciousness.
In reality, I'm confused because life seems very... easy going? Yet, I never felt worse, it's like my mental health started seriously degrading last year when I was faced with myself. I had a chaotic childhood which I heard from others. Mom and dad who used to fight and yell while I was sitting in a room next to it with my sister and she said I was dissociated. The reason was my dad's absence due to drinking in a pub and it lasted for few months. I was dragged by my mom to the pub in the middle of the night and when he was absent, she used to wash my hair but I've always had massive fear of water going into my ears, nose and eyes but she was so angry that she would just shove shower head into my face and I'd have meltdowns and couldn't calm myself down. I used to slam the doors and objects when angry because I learned it from my mom. I used to fight a lot, had problem in kindergarten. I was badly teased with abandonment from my dad like leaving me outside of the car and saying he'll leave me in the woods in the middle of nowhere and laughing about it with my friends while I was having a meltdown. One memory of my mom being red in the face, crying and yelling straight to my face "No one in this house freaking helps me" while vacuuming and something about how she's going to leave this house and go back to her parents which was a given in any hard situation. I was a child so I wanted to help so the next day I clean everything on my knees and chair just to be asked "What did you do?!" and her checking everything just to correct me. I was "separated" from my sister by my grandmother as for the privilege because I was younger and undeserving of better stuff. Chaotic bullying, neglect and "I have to have better stuff than you and you don't get to say a word" by my sister but the worst of all, manipulation and blackmail. I was a servant because I didn't know better, I was afraid she'll yet again blackmail me if I don't do something she asked me to do. My feelings were denied because "She's your sister, don't fight" and I was shushed from expressing my anger and hurt but the issue was never addressed by my parents, they always said it's who she is. They all played cards with abandonment and I became VERY afraid of it unconsciously. The ones that I remember is only when I was 6 and 2-3 memories from when I was 9, who knows what was happening in between.
I still don't know a lot of stuff but one that baffled me was 5 years ago, I was told I was sucidal due to my sister and her minimizing her feelings because she was feeling worse and one day she came unannounced to my apartment when I was near breakdown and she told me I just snapped, told her some stuff and kicked her out of apartment. I have no memory of it but considering me from that period, it checks out, she has no reason to lie. I was sick of being treated like a diary without it's own feelings, thoughts, wishes so more of a supportive robot who had to listen and help or otherwise I was the worst person ever.
Life now? They're all supportive. Is it because they realized how bad my mental health was and they felt guilt, I don't know. They're still emotionally unavailable and in some way inconsiderate but not nearly as before. My mom doesn't have anger issues as much as before but she seems very repressed, my dad is still avoidant but gets overly immersed in a role of a caretaker when I have dip in my mental health like uncontrollable crying, my sister says she cares and gives me stuff but I can't see it in an altruistic way. I'm full of paranoia, I still split on them badly because I'm used to their old selves, I can't comprehend the change. That's why I have same patterns as I had in my childhood so I repress everything and dissociate and I can seldom realize it's not appropriate to have them as the situation is extremely different now yet I will go back to the old self the moment it gets heated. However, when I'm not BADLY dissociating, I still find myself being very jumpy when I hear the loud noise which gets me into fight or flight mode, it also happened yesterday. I always fight when there's someone yelling or banging objects, it's something uncontrollable. Other times, I'm in the freeze mode.
I still have disorganized attachment style, I still reject people all the time before I get rejected or made fun of, I doubt people and I can't have feelings for anyone or I'd feel overly vulnerable.
I still don't know about my diagnosis but what if I just have CPTSD instead of BPD? I hate that I still have these patterns even tho the situation is different. If I was not hurt by the past, why do I still carry it into the present? I could have a fulfilling life but the fear is always stopping me.
So, anyone with CPTSD like this?

My BF (21M) and I (20M) regularly meet my friends. They have become fast friends with my boyfriend. My boyfriend is an extreme extrovert. He talks to anyone he can find and is extremely friendly. With people he considers as friends he can become extremely playful.
Now one of my friends (21M) is a good guy and good friends with my boyfriend. Let me come to a few instances
1) one time my boyfriend in funny manner tried to tug on my friend's pants in the middle of a sexual joke. My friend laughed it off and seemed okay about it.
2) All my friends were playing badminton along with my boyfriend and I was sitting on my phone, suddenly one of my guy friends said something offensive to my boyfriend and he got to leave. And I had to take efforts to reconcile them.
3) this happened recently, we were having tea with my sister who had just come back from her college. We were having tea and in midst of another sexual joke started by my friend (21M), my boyfriend proceeded to turn my friend around to make an impression of having sex with him. Immediately my friend says, "Do this again and it will be your last time" and he repeats it twice. I was the only one that heard it. My boyfriend came back to me quietly and distracted himself by playing with my hair or cheeks. I asked him if he was okay. He said he's fine just a little embarrassed. Rest of the outing goes smoothly with everyone joking around.
When we came back home, my boyfriend calls me and says that he's still disturbed about what happened and that he didn't want to react because my sister was present. I tried to explain to him that my friend always had a touch problem and that my boyfriend should have respected his boundaries after the first incident. My friend had said this many times that he doesn't like anyone touching, hugging, etc.
My boyfriend says he's sorry about that but he's always had this kind of a friendship with all his guy friends and that he is just this kind of a person. I tried to explain that you can be very friendly but also respect boundaries. And he said that he understands.
I have decided not to meet them for a few days to let this incident blow over. But I'm upset at my friend. He has always taken sides with my other friend who constantly tries to insult my boyfriend. I get that his boundaries were hurt but I wish he would have explained it to my boyfriend in a more calm fashion and not that aggressively in front of everyone. I'm stuck in this situation and I want clarity. WIBTA if I talk to my friend about it.

[TW:Physical Abuse] [TW:Verbal Abuse] Mentions of Physical & Verbal Abuse. This post is not describing sexual abuse, but mentions sexual behaviors of a parent.
This is my first post regarding my (F45) Mom, so please bear with me as I (F18) try to explain this in the best way possible.
My Mom, a widowed and single mother, and I have a very odd relationship that most would dream of (on the surface), except I dread it. Sometimes, I think she forgets she is my mother, not an older sibling or friend. We cuss at one other, have vulgar nicknames, and often go shopping. She is extremely impulsive, and I am the one that has to enforce structure. When I was in junior high, she would convince me to ditch school go to amusement parks, or do something "fun." Obviously, I couldn't do this! So, I was always the parent or "bad guy" saying no.
Also, we are extremely open with one another about everything, but sometimes it gets uncomfortable. She openly changes in front of me, talks about her previous romantic partners, and asks for advice for her current partner, my "step-father." This has happened ALL of my life. When she would bring over multiple sexual partners throughout my childhood, she would ask me my opinion of them. Why would you care about a five-year-old's opinion on a hookup? I will never forget when she asked if I was still a virgin at thirteen. When I said I was, she laughed cause she lost hers young and thought I would've by then. I hadn't even had my first relationship at thirteen. When I would go shopping with her, she would take me into Victoria's Secret and ask if I wanted anything: I was ten.
Our dynamic is nothing like a traditional mother-and-daughter relationship. I am in college now, but in high school, none of my extracurriculars or straight As would impress her. I got a full-ride scholarship, and she sort of brushed it off. It's sort of like a distant sibling you aren't close with when it comes to praise. "Good job." No leaping for joy or screaming hysterically. I found this so odd because we are extremely low-income, so I thought taking this burden off of us would make her happy.
Sometimes, she wouldn't make dinner when she was tired after work. When I approached her about it, she'd simply shrug her shoulders like it was something out of the ordinary for her to do. Again, if you asked a distant older sibling to make you something to eat, they'd probably stare at you like, "The hell are you asking me for?" She is sort of like that. It has ALWAYS been like this, even when I was extremely young. Growing up, I never ate breakfast because she wasn't hungry in the morning.
I used to love our relationship when I was younger, but now I crave having an actual parent. She gives no constructive criticism, and her life revolves around herself. Whenever I try adding structure to our life, she would yell at me that I'm overstepping and that I cannot control her. I had no curfew, expectations, rules, or chores. I understand that she probably didn't want this life of raising a child all my herself since my father died when I was two, but it doesn't seem like she's matured for any of it. :,(
To keep this post short, she is also verbally and physically abusive. She prioritizes her current relationship over her relationship with me because "I will always be around but her opportunity for love won't be."
I appreciate any advice, resources, or ways to categorize this behavior. The best I could find was myself being "parentified."