Previous / First

Writer's note: Welcome back from the long weekend my dudes. We're starting off this week with a bang or two (or more, but who's keeping count), also some pay back. And yes, I've played fast and loose with guns in this one, chill idc.

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James stood at the table, testing the feel and the weight of the weapons before him. There were swords, axes, hammers, spears, and all other manner of medieval weaponry in front of him. Plus some stuff he didn't recognize that he imagined was unique to this world.

He didn't have a lot of experience with any of this though. Other than knives, batons, and maybe staffs he didn't know how to use any of them. Even with those his experience mainly came from combatives training, and a pugils fight he and his buddies had had when cleaning out an old conex.

But in terms of practical experience? Well, he didn't really have any.

He was standing in the training yard of the castle. He was wearing his full uniform, and the green medallion. Kela had insisted that he wear armor, or at least the breastplate over his uniform. But he had forgone all of that. For whatever reason he had wanted this to be as simple, and official as possible. So full uniform was the name of the game. But he had opted to wear his IOTBS.

Standing on the opposite side of him, wearing simple pants, shirt, a breastplate, greaves, and gauntlets, was Prince Artair. He was test swinging a pair of scimitars.

"This is bold, hero!" The prince said from where he was. "Do you even know how to use any of those?"

James ignored him. He opted to grab a short sword and a small shield, but he grabbed something else too. It had been put on the table at his request. He turned toward the prince, tightening the shield's strap on his arm, and test swinging the sword.

"Seriously, you have no idea what you're doing with that. And what is this weird cloth thing you're wearing? It's all puffy. Will that even stop anything?"

James remained silent.

From the balcony overlooking the courtyard the king spoke to the crowd surrounding the small fighting ring. Gixelle stood to his left, fully armored and sword on her back. Amina stood to his right, also fully armed and armored.

"A week ago." He began. "My son, Prince Artair Petravius, s

Note: This post explores language, and is inspired by the work of statement and linguistic analysis, and the fact that FBI profiler John Douglas said the perpetrator could be a teenager. The well is dry on new evidence, so let’s see where this topic takes us. If this doesn’t interest you, Skip It.

~

I don’t like childhood bullying or hazing, I don’t like boys (or girls) getting away with things. I don’t like seeing their smug faces when they lie. It’s not good for anyone, or for the world, if we don’t face our mistakes, pay the consequences, and learn from them. But just because I don’t like it doesn’t mean it’s what happened to the victim, JonBenet.

Who did this? A family member? An intruder? Sorry don’t get up, I’m intruding. I didn’t mean to intrude, I’ll see myself out. An outsider, someone who wasn’t supposed to be there.

PATSY RAMSEY, 1998: (INAUDIBLE) If she got up in the night and ran into somebody, there was somebody there that wasn't supposed to be there. I don't know what transpired after that, whether it was an accident, intentional, premeditated or what not. There was not one of her three family members that were also in that house, period, end of statement. If you want to, you know, keep talking on a dream like this.

According to the mother of the victim in her second police interview, the killer was somebody that “wasn’t supposed to be there.” Not broke in, not plotted to kill and violated our home and slaughtered our baby. They just, weren’t supposed to be there? I’m more mad at him that that. Aren’t you? I’m not too familiar or that comfortable with this form of intrusion, are you?

Yeah, I can’t get around the fake ransom note and misdirection campaign. Start at the victim and work your way out, starting with those who knew her. Those who were closest to her, who were in the home, who knew her routine, who were last seen with her, who knew the house and its weak points—like that great scene in Silence of the Lambs when they are pacing in their bathrobes. What do we covet? The people we see everyday. She knew him.

The evidence should lead the theory. Not the other way around. The well is dry on evidence, and I don’t understand the DNA reports. I don’t know what I’m doing, but let’s explore this angle.

So there’s foreign male DNA in JonBenet’s underwear and in the waistband of the pants she was found in. There are rumors of amylase (?) somewhere from the intruder’s sweat, spit, or tears. Either it came from a factory wor

Hello, here is the latest changelog. Now with a little bit less wasps :)

Content:

• Clarify the description of the second Boris mission by hexagonrecursion
• New Bastion Fort starting scenario by JonathanLochridge
• Jsonified 'spider' map extra. by Night-Pryanik
• Plate armor recipes by Drew4484
• Add vegetable oil press by kurtisvetter
• Adds grades of steel, propane and propane accessories to spawn lists. by Drew4484
• Jsonified portal map extra. by Night-Pryanik
• Recipes for new steel armors by Drew4484
• More plate armor by Drew4484
• Added a Basic EMF Detector by bombasticSlacks

Features:

• Make armor materials translate to item materials by bombasticSlacks
• Allow Web Diver to rappel, add infrastructure for wall crawling by Venera3
• Snippets you've read have a LORE tab you can look them over by bombasticSlacks
• Dialogue can embed any Avatar or NPC variable in the line as a tag by bombasticSlacks
• Print qualities of tool furniture that has them by wapcaplet
• Snippets can now call EOC effects by bombasticSlacks
• Allow players to uncover electric wires in the walls to connect appliances by Fris0uman
• Allow reloading guns with mixed ammo by Hirmuolio
• Add widget for overmap by wapcaplet
• [Add drench resistance, wet morale, and drying chance to bodyparts](https://github.com/CleverRaven/Catacly

I don't know if I'm trippin or something but I swear at 1:20 in Maxwell silver hammer Paul giggle or snickers when he says "writing" has anyone else noticed this or is it just me? Have a listen if you never heard I'm curious to know if someone actually does make him laugh a bit in the middle of the song.

“Until we meet again, He-man!” the last of the undead cackled as it collapsed into a pile of bones on the ground, metal clattering and clanging.

Gulping in air, Charles held his spear ahead on himself, right where he had slain the creature. He looked around and saw what seemed to be a hundred piles of bones and mummified corpses, all along the pathway they took to here, a door with a simple sliding puzzle for a lock—which happened to be a picture of a woman in a bikini at the beach.

“Right, now all those creaky bones are gone,” Yular said as he staggered past Charles to the lock. The man then tapped his chin and stared at the lock, humming to himself. “A Manchua lock…” he began as he touched the tile which happened to be the right breast. “I think it’s a depiction of the god Matha, represented as an eagle.”

Charles wondered if he was horny when he picked the mods for his game, because he rarely saw anything else that wasn’t just “make it sexier”, other than the clown guards. Combat was hard and it seemed plenty of times that he was going to die for sure, only to be saved at the last second by his reflexes or by one of hie friends; sometimes it took his entire concentration to not be scalped by a overhead swing of a sword, ran through with a spear or have his brains bashed out with a mace—he dreaded now, having combat with actual people, as the busty ladies in their skimpy armour, smooth silky skin and hour-glass bodies, were for sure going to make it harder when avoiding the axe that would come for his arm.

“…okay, and…done!” Yular guffawed as he slid the last tile in its proper place, which happened to be the leg of the woman. As he stepped back, the door shook and rumbled as it sunk into the ground, dust shaking off and a gust of cool air rushed into everyone’s faces.

As the door finished sinking, on the other side was a large cavern, where light beamed on down from a hole in the ceiling, over a large area, which included several chests, piles of coins, a stone table with a few things on it and a very conspicuous sarcophagus right on the edge of the platform. As the group walked toward the lit-up area of the cavern, Charles frowned as he thought he heard some strangely muffled music coming from the sarcophagus; he had no idea what the music was, but he could easily guess it was to do with a mod that he installed, relating probably to an enemy replacer.

His game really wasn’t immersive at all, was it?

“Hey, look at this thing!” Dari shouted as she

Entries in this series (this link does not work properly in old Reddit or 3rd-party apps): https://www.reddit.com/r/lds/collection/11be9581-6e2e-4837-9ed4-30f5e37782b2

In this post, we’ll be talking about the absolutely insane story of James J. Strang. He faked his own death, claimed to have been appointed Joseph’s successor by a letter he produced, claimed ordination to the role by an angel, formed a breakaway sect of the Church referred to as the Strangites which many of the Book of Mormon witnesses as well as members of Joseph Smith’s family temporarily joined after his death, claimed to find and translate a set of plates of his own supposedly taken from the Book of Laban, became a State Representative, claimed there was a sea monster in Lake Michigan, crowned himself the earthly king of the Kingdom of God while residing on Beaver Island, Michigan, fired a canon at his detractors, cozied up to John C. Bennett, and led an infamous band of Mormon pirates before he was murdered by a group of his own former followers.

Because this story is so bonkers, there are numerous biographies of Strang out there to choose from (“God Has Made Us a Kingdom” by Vickie C. Speek; The King Strang Story by Doyle C. Fitzpatrick; Kingdom Forgotten by Laurie A. Lounsbury; The King of Beaver Island by Charles K. Backus; The King of Beaver Island and The Assassination of a Michigan King, both by Roger Van Noord), but I’ve only read one, The King of Confidence by Miles Harvey. It was informative and well-sourced, but it also was much more fair in its treatment of Strang than it was of either Joseph Smith or Brigham Young, who were both described in pretty unflattering terms. So, take that into consideration if you’re looking for a book recommendation.

I’m going to give an overview of Strang and his story, and then I’ll go into Jerem

Entries in this series (this link does not work properly in old Reddit or 3rd-party apps): https://www.reddit.com/r/lds/collection/11be9581-6e2e-4837-9ed4-30f5e37782b2

The claim that the Book of Mormon witnesses didn’t actually see the plates except through “spiritual eyes,” which critics take to mean “imagination,” is one of the more common claims against them that you’ll see. Jeremy’s hardly the first to make this accusation, and it has been answered many, many times over the years. Once you see how flimsy these quotes are, and how dishonest the CES Letter is in packaging them, you’re going to realize that this bit only works if you don’t investigate it at all.

Jeremy begins:

> People believed they could see things as a vision in their mind. They called it “second sight.” We call it “imagination.” It made no difference to these people if they saw with their natural eyes or their spiritual eyes as both were one and the same.

Jeremy’s conflating four different things here. Second sight is a type of extrasensory perception, or ESP. It’s also often called clairvoyance. There’s no concrete evidence it actually exists and it’s not something I personally believe in, but it’s not the same thing as imagination. It’s also not the same thing as seeing things with either your natural eyes or spiritual eyes. Moreover, people who believe in second sight know full well there is a difference between what they believe is a psychic vision and something that happens in person, directly in front of them. They are not “one and the same.”

> As mentioned previously, people believed they could see spirits and their dwelling places in the local hills along with seeing buried treasure deep in the ground. This supernatural way of seeing the world is also referred in Doctrine & Covenants as “the eyes of our understanding.”

Some people believed they could see spirits, sure, but the witnesses were not listed among them. None of them ever claimed to have second sight, and those spirits being referenced are not divine messengers sent from God. People who believe they can see spirits are talking about ghosts or other spectral apparitions. And when the Letter talks about those spirits having their dwelling places in local hills, it’s talking about fairies. Seco

I don't want to step on anybody's toes here, but the amount of non-dad jokes here in this subreddit really annoys me. First of all, dad jokes CAN be NSFW, it clearly says so in the sub rules. Secondly, it doesn't automatically make it a dad joke if it's from a conversation between you and your child. Most importantly, the jokes that your CHILDREN tell YOU are not dad jokes. The point of a dad joke is that it's so cheesy only a dad who's trying to be funny would make such a joke. That's it. They are stupid plays on words, lame puns and so on. There has to be a clever pun or wordplay for it to be considered a dad joke.

Again, to all the fellow dads, I apologise if I'm sounding too harsh. But I just needed to get it off my chest.

Welcome back Punt Fans, to your earnestly-niche weekly Special Teams analysis column – yes it’s /r/NFL’s own painfully protracted and statistically questionable Punt Rank! If you haven’t been here with me before, the concept is both simple and fantastically over-engineered. Lemme break it down:

• Each punter’s performance against five vital punting metrics is ranked against every other punter in the league.
• Those rankings are combined into a weighted average ranking – giving us the 2021 NFL Punt Rank. Punt Heroes rise to the top; Punt Zeros sink to the bottom - and then I write 1500 largely redundant words explaining it all.

Last week’s post and Week 14 standings are available here for the archivists, and this week’s update is just moments away.

I’m excited to get your perspectives on your team’s punter, so please hit the comments below with your feedback and questions, as well as pointing out anything you think I missed. Let's hit Week 15.

Week 15 Punt Rank standings & Punt Performance summary

2021 Punt Rank Overall Standings - Week 15

Week 15 Punt Performance Summary

Grey highlight - IR/NWT/Part Time Punter.

Good Week for

Bryan Anger (DAL, +7 to #6). There’s a lot to be said for consistency. Consistency is stable. Consistency is comfortable. Consistency is unlikely to give you a heart attack on fourth down with a shanked punt out of bounds inside your own half. But consistency doesn’t always mean great results. Dallas had guaranteed consistency in Chris Jones – long time punter, long time cure for narcolepsy. In the latter stages of his career, Jones was an exceptionally consistent, and exceptionally boring punter. Short kicks, good hangtime, lot of fair catches, bottom 10 punter. This week, the Cowboys’ consistency dial got turned up to 11 as Bryan Anger went HAM on what good consistency looks like. Anger’s four punts in the Cowboys divisional win against the Giants are worth documenting individually, such was their metronomic brilliance:

Bryan Anger punts 32 yards, fair catch by Pharoh Cooper at NYG-9, 78% Available Field covered.

`Bryan Anger punts 36 yar

The conclusion of Book 3 and the cadet's Junior year. Hope you enjoy!

I didn't want to forget posting this over the weekend so I figured i'd get it out sooner than later. According to RoyalRoad the first 3 books come in at 398k words.

I am going to be taking close to 2 weeks off. I'm going on a much needed vacation to someplace where snow doesn't exist. I probably will do some work on writing while I'm off though. I'd expect some new chapters by the 20th.

A Terran Space Story: Academy Days

First | Previous | Next

Chapter 116: Aftermath

7 Days Later, Earth. 06:45 Co-Ed Dorm

John loved Alice deeply, but her night spasms and blanket thieving tendencies were irritating. He was rudely awakened to a well-placed kick to his right shin. As he crawled out of bed he swore under his breath. John shook his head as he noticed the clock, his alarm was only five minutes from now. He pushed himself out of bed, shut his alarm off, and walked to his closet to get his clothes for the day.

After the shower, John walked into the living room and sat down on the couch. He leaned back and rested his eyes. The battle was playing back in his mind, John was trying to see if there was anything else he could have done.

The honest answer to a question like that is yes, there could be. But it’s not always a fair question to ask. Their ships, in comparison to the larger vessels, had wet paper towels for armor. Granted their weapon systems were quite stout given their relative new designs, but they couldn’t get stuck into a proper fight. They had to zip around and attack when and where they could.

“Still thinking you could have done something more?” Alice said leaning on the wall.

“Ooh, sexy,” John said as he saw Alice in panties and a tank top.

“Ugh, I love you, but you can be such a pig.”

“Oink oink. But I speak the truth,” John winked and smirked at her, “With more ships, yes, but considering everything, we did as good a job as we could have with what we were given.”

“You shouldn’t beat yourself up.”

John looked surprised, “I’m not. I was merely wondering if something could have been done differently.”

Alice smiled, “Let me get ready then we can head to get breakfa

Hi guys.

ALOT of speculation of course about who the next James Bond will be but I would like to know who you would have cast in the past....

There's so much I can't tell you which makes it hard for me to begin.

I can't tell you the place, other than it's a desert in the US far from any city.

I can't tell you my job, other than I'm a soldier -- have been since Marty Calhoun stole my lunch money in the third grade. He went home with a black eye, I went home for a week. I joined up at 18. Blew through basic and threw on fatigues for three tours in deserts far from the one I'm stationed at now.

I've seen a lot of things. IEDs take legs and arms and souls. A little girl catch a stray bullet, go down with her head trailing ribbons of brain like gruesome streamers.

I've never seen anything like the Fleshpit.

My superiors are probably reading this. I'm sure they'll have it scrubbed from the internet long before it's breached the stratosphere. Not that it matters to me -- I'll be dead by the time it's over. I'm going to kill myself. It's not the answer -- suicide never is -- but I want to be in control of my death. You'll understand why soon enough.

It's growing. Even as I write this now, it's inching its way toward the taxpayers we're supposed to protect. But we can't protect them from this.

Not the Fleshpit.

We don't know what it is, where it came from -- we don't know how to destroy it. Not yet, anyway.

We only know that it grows, that it eats. It's a massive sinkhole in the desert crust, a fleshy, gaping mouth expanding every day, minute, second. It's miles wide now. Wasn't that big when I first got here -- it was no bigger than a swimming pool, its fleshy walls caving down into a deep, sunken cavity that bubbled, shifted, moved like melted cheese in a simmering pot.

Looking at it made my stomach curl with nausea. But the smell...

I've known the scent of brain-matter blackened by gunpowder, of disembowled guts cooking on the desert pan after an IED chewed a humvee to scrap.

This was worse.

A damp, rotten reek that tunneled up your nose, down your lungs, and settled into your chest, nesting there like a dead-thing in the walls of a house. A smell that usurps all others, lingering -- even when you've left the Fleshpit behind. You'll never smell anything else again.

I've been here for five days -- got here two days after it was discovered. By then checkpoints were scattered around its circumference. Sandbags, tanks, coils of concertina wire four-men high.

Overnight that was all gone -- including the two dozen seasoned grunts stationed around the perimeter. The Fle

The nurse asked the rabbit, “what is your blood type?”

“I am probably a type O” said the rabbit.

First : Next : My Other Stories

Burners: Reunions

Reaching the streets of Miridem Central, Charlotte and her squad quickly found a supply depot buzzing with activity. Overhead the air battle raged, debris and the flaming carcasses of drones and banshees raining down onto the city as humanity and the xenos locked horns. Sitting within the cover of a smashed storefront, Charlotte pulled out her dog tag and read the name that wasn’t quite hers. Charlotte Campbell, the name that would haunt her until they day she died.

“Hey Char, you alright?” Avery’s voice cut through the din, the blond’s eyes glancing from the dog tag to her friend’s face. “You’re looking like you saw a ghost.”

“Something like that actually, I’ll tell you if we survive this I guess.” Char replied and shifted to look over at the grinning blond. The woman’s smile was the picture of the cat that had caught the canary. “What?”

“I found our ticket out of here. They had a laptop at the depot so I requisitioned it without asking and boy did that open up options.” Avery explained and her smile widened as Char sighed and motioned for the rest of the squad to huddle up. Once all nine of them were present, nine where there had only hours before been fifteen, Avery opened the laptop, revealing a map of the city. In the center of the map was an ONI building and a name stood out clearly.

“Halsey,” Charlotte hissed, heart pounding and hand tightening around her dog tag. Her face twisted into a murderous snarl that took everyone by surprise.

“You know her?” Avery asked after recovering from her shock.

“We spoke once, when I was younger. I will never forget or forgive her. She is a monster.” Charlotte let out a long shuddering sigh. “I’m going to have a conversation with her. Y’all can follow I guess.” Charlotte announced and stood up, she could barely hear over her heart thundering in her ears. Her hands shook violently as she glanced around and spotted a pair of warthogs. Walking over to them, she climbed into the drivers seat and felt the car shift as half her squad piled in. The other warthog was quickly filled as well and Charlotte took in another deep breath before hitting the gas.

“So, we going to need my medical skills?” Mason asked casually, eyes moving over Charlotte

The doctor says it terminal.

Alot of great jokes get posted here! However just because you have a joke, doesn't mean it's a dad joke.

THIS IS NOT ABOUT NSFW, THIS IS ABOUT LONG JOKES, BLONDE JOKES, SEXUAL JOKES, KNOCK KNOCK JOKES, POLITICAL JOKES, ETC BEING POSTED IN A DAD JOKE SUB

Try telling these sexual jokes that get posted here, to your kid and see how your spouse likes it.. if that goes well, Try telling one of your friends kid about your sex life being like Coca cola, first it was normal, than light and now zero , and see if the parents are OK with you telling their kid the "dad joke"

I'm not even referencing the NSFW, I'm saying Dad jokes are corny, and sometimes painful, not sexual

So check out r/jokes for all types of jokes

r/unclejokes for dirty jokes

r/3amjokes for real weird and alot of OC

r/cleandadjokes If your really sick of seeing not dad jokes in r/dadjokes

Punchline !

Edit: this is not a post about NSFW , This is about jokes, knock knock jokes, blonde jokes, political jokes etc being posted in a dad joke sub

Edit 2: don't touch the thermostat

Do your worst!

Namesake: Bad Side of the Moon by Elton John

User: Travis n' Gunther

Natural nonhumanoid stand

Stats:

Power: C

Precision: C

Speed: A

Range: A (Stand body)

Durability: A

Potential: C

Appearance:

「Bad Side of the Moon」resembles its user, with groups of tendrils at the end of four major appendages (Two "arms" and two rear fins) on a mermaid-like body shape. Its head is rounded and draconic, with a large frill behind each of its pupalless oval eyes. Segments appear to be composed of metal scraps reminiscent of a shipwreck, including a large dorsal fin. It is primarily blue and white, with shades of grey accenting its less natural components. It swims gracefully, and walks like a seal when on land.

Ability:

A object or category of objects are incapable of moving away from Bad Side of the Moon or objects it envelops once they come within a 20 meter sphere of the activated stand. Affected objects can move closer, but attempts to increase the distance are met with a force similar to a wall. This is not a physical barrier, rather a hard limit set by the stand that cannot be directly passed though. If the user moves while objects are trapped in the affected area, they must drag anything that provides resistance. Though this can be circumvented, as the effect can be released and reactivated very quickly.

BSotM is capable of enveloping objects, providing them with its properties. Once enveloping an object, BSotM becomes visible to non-stand users as a thin coating. It adjusts to cover the entire object, either stretching out to the size of a car, or compacting to about a cubic centimeter. If enveloping a sentient being, it shares control while partially hijacking their spirit. It does not directly command them, but can attempt to 'steer' them and guide their actions through the shared thoughts. This is more difficult to do if the target is aware of the stand's ability and/or unwilling to cooperate. As a side effect of this connected consciousness, the user's simple mind is able to use other brains for processing, making them capable of more complex thought.

Damage done to BSotM does not transmit damage to user, nor an object/individual it encompasses (Though the deformation of the stand still allows the force itself to damage such objects), but extensive damage will force it to deactivate and KO whoever is in control. The surface is slimy like a salamander, though can dry out. The tendrils are prehensile, an

How the hell am I suppose to know when it’s raining in Sweden?

Mathematical puns makes me number

We told her she can lean on us for support. Although, we are going to have to change her driver's license, her height is going down by a foot. I don't want to go too far out on a limb here but it better not be a hack job.

Ants don’t even have the concept fathers, let alone a good dad joke. Keep r/ants out of my r/dadjokes.

But no, seriously. I understand rule 7 is great to have intelligent discussion, but sometimes it feels like 1 in 10 posts here is someone getting upset about the jokes on this sub. Let the mods deal with it, they regulate the sub.

They were cooked in Greece.

Hello,

Sorry to everyone who had been following me, my life went off the rails entirely in 2021. The year is a write-off, so let's try again with 2022. I’m going to try to post on Sundays/Mondays, and next week's chapter is done save for editing.

Hopefully you enjoy the story and where it’s going. Thank you again to Eruwenn for editing. You managed to make my thoughts and ideas more coherent, and caught a dumptruck’s worth of punctuation to fix.

An additional thank you to the people who pushed me to go back and give writing another try, and my early readers for the encouraging feedback.

<< First < Previous Next >

Story Arc: 1 (The Trappings of Man)

Chapter: 3 (New Tricks)

{ } denotes telepathic messages.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Food. The hunt had gone well, there was food, and the reward was sweet. Literally sweet. Something told him meat should be salty, but this worked too. The smells had been the key to the hunt, and finding the path that made the prey come to him. He’d also listened, but it had not been as helpful. Now, the feast was done, but he found himself in a cage. Yellow eyes cast about this new pen, searching for food. He was still very hungry after all.

Claws click-clicked over the metal floors, guided by a nose that acted as its own inquisitorial tribunal. Every scent was taken in and judged, scrutinized for any trace of something edible. The seats had been the first suspect, as he sat before one.

His arms were long enough to allow him to run on them, but walking felt clumsy. It was easier to sit crouched, arms draped over his knees. His body felt odd to him, foreign yet comfortable. This was unimportant. The seats, they were the more pressing matter.

They were set against the walls, the space in the middle of this new cage open save for little holes set in the floor. This too seemed unimportant; he was still hungry. His attention turned again to the seats. Their smell was… not unpleasant.

Said if she ever hosts a gender reveal party, when it comes time to pop the balloon she'll spray everyone with water.

Gender is fluid.

John was excited to tell his wife the good news about his new assignment! The timing was perfect as the young couple were expecting their first child. He'll receive increased wages along with a rations bonus of ale and a cheese wheel.

He rushed in the front door of their cottage. The small house was cozy but the beautiful young woman sitting beside the fireplace made it a home. She looked up at him and smiled.

"Blossom, the Captain assigned me a change of guard duty! I am to begin standing guard in the prison tower tomorrow eve," John exclaimed. Blossom frowned. John added, "This comes with an extra shilling per pay plus rations of ale and cheese. It's a rotating shift for the night watch." Her composure settled a bit. John could sense her unease and remarked, "This will be good for our family. You'll see."

The next evening John went to the prison tower. The Captain stood waiting at the top of the spiral staircase beside a heavy iron door. The Captain blurted instructions, "Nobody goes in or out of this chamber except for the royal alchemist. Ignore the prisoner. Do not touch this door." With that he thrust a silver tipped polearm into John's hand. "You will be relieved in the morning," the Captain said as he turned and left.

John only saw the royal alchemist. He would come in, stay a short while and then leave without a word. The alchemist barely acknowledged John's presence. John heard sounds of shuffling and whimpering from behind the iron door. He spent the night hours envisioning being a father.

The last night watch for this rotation the alchemist emerged from behind the iron door. He seemed distracted, mumbling something about the change taking hold. He fidgeted with the keys to the door and then left, traveling down the staircase.

John noticed the door was cracked open. From inside the chamber he could hear sobbing. Against his better judgment and orders he pulled the door open and peered inside.

Torchlight from the staircase landing illuminated the chamber. A girl sat there wearing a plain white gown and an iron mask. They were silent and observed each other. Finally the girl spoke, "Please sir, will you take this dreadful thing off?"

John's heart broke for the girl. With sympathy he reached around and turned the latch to the mask. The iron mask fell to the floor with a clang. John noticed silver lining inside the mask.

John saw that she was beautiful. His admiration dissolved when she opened her crimson eyes. Her smile revealed jagged fa

Two muffins are in an oven, one muffin looks at the other and says "is it just me, or is it hot in here?"

Then the other muffin says "AHH, TALKING MUFFIN!!!"

Don't you know a good pun is its own reword?

For context I'm a Refuse Driver (Garbage man) & today I was on food waste. After I'd tipped I was checking the wagon for any defects when I spotted a lone pea balanced on the lifts.

I said "hey look, an escaPEA"

No one near me but it didn't half make me laugh for a good hour or so!

Edit: I can't believe how much this has blown up. Thank you everyone I've had a blast reading through the replies 😂

It really does, I swear!

But let me give it a shot.

Because she wanted to see the task manager.

He’s the new temp.

And boy are my arms legs.

But that’s comparing apples to oranges

Amy

Heard they've been doing some shady business.

Chapter 4

Philip sat in the lodge with Jamesie and Mary-Lee, the three of them enjoying a hearty breakfast. They were each wearing their red Pro-Patrol coats and each had a plate of pancakes in front of them.

"Did you guys see the power outage last night?" the brown haired, brown eyed, short Hispanic woman Mary-Lee asked through her mouth full of half chewed pancakes.

"Naw man. Rob must have got the backup running pretty quick. Guy's johnny-on-the-spot." Jamesie, the scruffy blonde haired guy with long hair and an even longer beard responded sarcastically .

Philip chuckled at the thought of their overweight maintenance man having to get up in the middle of the night. "He call to see what's going on?"

"Nega-tory, ghost rider, landlines are down!" Jamesie emphasize this by making a whistle like a bomb falling as he crashed his hand into the table

"Well, we'll get some cell service at the top of the hill." Philip said pouring his coffee into a to-go cup

"Come on, boss, we still got five minutes!" Mary-Lee complained.

"First one there gets to drive the Gator!" Philip smiled as the two bolted from the bench. "Thanks cook," he waved to the large Australian in the kitchen before following his cohorts.

Jamesie raced like his life was dependent on it. Not because he wanted to drive the John Deer up the hill but because he desperately didn't want to ride in the Gator as Mary-Lee used it to play Dirt-Rally. His effort paid off as he hoped in the yellow driver's seat. "HA!" He yelled victoriously.

"You lanky bastard!'" She complained as she hoped in the back

"Hey no fighting or I'll call your parents when we get up there." Philip jokingly threatened as he leisurely strolled to join them on the bench seat.

The three of them made their way up the hill driving up the green circle runs. They were working on removing a large boulder from Despacito, a double black diamond run. That boulder had caused at least two serious injuries last ski season, so it had to go. The issue was how it was buried into the mountain and they had tried digging it up with pickaxes and shovels, and pulling it out with the Gator. Neither solution had worked. So Philip elected to more… permanent solution.

The green vehicle made its way up the rocky terrain to the obstacle in question. A hole had been dug around the base and chains still wrapped around it from the previous day. "All right let's get those chains off and back in the Gator. We're gonna try something new today." Philp announ

Entries in this series (this link does not work properly in old Reddit or 3rd-party apps): https://www.reddit.com/r/lds/collection/11be9581-6e2e-4837-9ed4-30f5e37782b2

Last week, the bulk of Jeremy’s commentary was on Martin Harris. Today, it’ll be about David Whitmer, with a little bit about Oliver Cowdery. After that, it segues into the same criticism about “spiritual eyes” that many of you have heard repeatedly over the years, and then on to James Strang and other issues. I don’t know how much we’ll get through today, but we’ll at least finish up the questions on the three witnesses.

Strangely enough, Jeremy doesn’t go into any detail or questions about the other eight witnesses or the unofficial witnesses at all. I don’t know why, except that they may be harder to explain away than the three witnesses who saw an angel and heard the voice of the Lord. For the eight witnesses in particular, their experience was a tangible one without any spiritual or supernatural significance. Before we’re done with the Witnesses section of the CES Letter, I think I’d like to talk about some of those other witnesses, since they tend to get glossed over not just by Jeremy, but by a lot of other people as well. As a people, we’re less familiar with them than we are with the three witnesses.

In picking up the portion on David Whitmer, Jeremy begins with a few quotes. The first is from his favorite anti-LDS book, Grant Palmer’s An Insider’s View of Mormon Origins, which he has quoted numerous times already:

> “David claimed in early June 1829 before their group declaration that he, Cowdery, and Joseph Smith observed ‘one of the Nephites’ carrying the records in a knapsack on his way to Cumorah. Several days later this trio perceived ‘that the Same Person was under the shed’ at the Whitmer farm.” — An Insider’s View of Mormon Origins, p. 179

I’m not sure why Jeremy or Grant Palmer thinks this recollection is a problem. It’s actually a pretty cool little story. This figure was identified by Whitmer as Moroni, though his nephew later claimed it was Nephi, and [he is the same figure who showed Mary Whitmer, David’s mother, the plates](https://knowhy.bookofmor

Recent question about seeing God the Father got me wondering. I know Christ said that if you have seen Him you have seen the Father, but still I'm curious as to who has literally seen the Father during mortality, that we know of? As most divine experiences in the scriptures are with Christ, not the Father.

I can think of: Joseph Smith (First Vision) Stephen (Acts 7) Lehi (1 Nephi 1) Alma the younger (Alma 36)

Who else?

I'm surprised it hasn't decade.

He lost May

Now that I listen to albums, I hardly ever leave the house.

And now I’m cannelloni

Put it on my bill