I'm looking for a bad fuel pump control module for a 6.6 gas engine truck. Any of the part numbers will work. I'll have to return mine for warranty, but I'd like to see what is actually failing in these. I can send you a label to ship it, thanks.

Psychoanalytic/psychodynamic psychotherapy may be one of the last bastions of honest inquiry left to us, and I worry that society will "social justice" us out of it.
There are so many physical and behavioral outcomes that a psychodynamic therapist might be curious about that we are no longer encouraged to examine. And let's be clear, before I elaborate, that I do not mean it is our job to JUDGE people and most certainly not to look down upon them! But the idea seems to be that many things a psychologist might be interested in the underpinnings or root causes of are things that are allowed no investigation whatsoever, else you’re labeled an -ist and a -phobic (racist, sexist, fatphobic, homophobic, transphobic, etc., etc.).
I went to a CE event last year about the BDSM community, and it was enforced upon us multiple times that there was nothing psychological about any of it, that the CE was about acceptance and not questioning it. It was, as you can imagine, a very boring event. Is it impossible to imagine that for some members of this community, there may have been events earlier in their lives that affected their thinking around sex/relationships/attachment that might help them to understand the way they think, feel, and behave today? No; we are simply to accept, lest we are invalidating and not supporting the BDSM/polyamory community.
On a reality TV competition, an overweight, conventionally unattractive person made themselves stand out with tall, strangely-coiffed bright hair, covered in piercings and tattoos, and wearing unconventional clothing. Part of me might wonder what it means for them to stand out this way, and why they've chosen as they have. But nothing about their choices or appearance is examinable; if one does not accept them as they are with no thought, we are seen as invalidating and not supporting them.
About sexual orientation or gender identity I will only say that all the research seems to indicate both are probably caused by a deeply nuanced interplay of genetics and environment -- not 100% genetics. However, we are strongly discouraged from talking about or thinking about the environment piece.
The goal of psychodynamic therapy is exploration, inquiry, and deeper understanding. We of all people should never be silenced or shamed in the questions we are allowed to ask, either as researchers or in session with our clients (up to a point, and of course prioritizing our client’s well-being). However, I think we are not protected in society against the rules that are put in place (understandably!) to cope with abusive, invalidating, hurtful laypeople. …But I feel we should be.

Link for all the chapters available here: Engines of Arachnea on Royal Road
High above in her hiding spot, Zildiz had heard enough. The Leapers were her kindred’s most hated of adversaries, and she could not allow them to gain even a fraction of the grey behemoth’s awesome might. An apocalyptic vision arose in her mind of titanic Leaper variants towering over the rooftops of Chthonis, setting the Parchment City alight with beams of all-destroying light emanating from their many eyes.
Four against one. Those were slim odds even under the best of circumstances. Still, she had the element of surprise, and ambush predators were often unaccustomed to being preyed upon themselves. But Leapers were notoriously difficult opponents to sneak up on as they literally had eyes on the backs of their heads. But Zildiz was a veteran of countless border skirmishes, and had learned of a small blind spot in their vision. It was above and slightly behind the axis of their posterior lateral median eyes. But many Gallivants who had tried to make their first kill that way did not survive to tell the tale—the flutter of their wings gave them away. She would have to drop straight down on her first target. No hesitation, no second chances.
She saw the alpha Leaper lean down to extract the prey-form’s gilt helix, and saw her opening.
Rene heard a branch snap somewhere above him and felt a gust of wind blow across his neck, bearing with it droplets of moisture that pattered lightly against the visor of his mask. His first thought was that it had started to rain. He glanced up at the monster to find that it had extruded a new mouthpart, some manner of sharp, serrated tongue whose tip oozed a wet and viscous fluid. Rene flinched reflexively, expecting at any moment to feel the point punching through his skull before draining out its contents like a straw. But then the blade twisted sharply, wrenching its way out of the back of the monster’s head and drenching Rene’s mask in a shower of gore, the four-eyed devil letting out a wet gurgle as it slumped over in a twitching heap.
Pawing at his mask with his bound wrists, Rene peered through his smeared vision and saw a figure standing atop the corpse that, if anything, possessed an even less lovely countenance than his erstwhile interlocutor. A bulbous compound eye stared back Rene like a shattered mirror, a thousand miniscule reflections of himself repeating across its scaly lenses.
Rene recognized the creature as one of the harpies from earlier. One of its broad wings was missing. It drew its bloodstained blade across its mandibles, casually licking the weapon clean as an eight-limbed devil leapt at the harpy from behind, letting loose a bloodcurdling scream. But the harpy did not even turn at the sound, merely pointing its other blade arm behind it and letting its attacker impale itself upon it, clean through. With its dying spasms the devil pulled itself up the length of the blade in an effort to reach the harpy, even as its two kin recovered from their surprise and pounced at the harpy from either side. What followed was a blur of movement almost too quick for the human eye to follow as the harpy spun in place, cleaving the monster on the left halfway through its sternum. In the same movement it turned the devil stuck on the end of its blade into the path of the attacker on the right, using it as a living shield. The impact still bowled the harpy over, all four of the combatants rolling on the ground in a ball of threshing limbs and furious struggle.
The din was horrendous. Siezing the golden opportunity which had presented itself, Rene reached once more for the sword of the ancients, stretching his sinews for all they were worth. It was just enough to let him pinch the pommel-button between his middle and forefingers. Raising it up in spite of his trembling, sweat-slick grip, Rene coaxed the hilt into palm of his waiting hand, then pounded the button against his chest, feeling the sword come alive in his hands. As the fight raged on behind him, Rene sliced his legs free. He tucked in his head as he hit the ground, rolling onto his arse and reversing his grip on the sword, swiftly cutting the bonds around his wrists. When he tried to stand, however, he found that his legs were still unresponsive, all the blood within them having flowed up to his torso during his time spent hanging upside down. Pounding the life back into the clammy flesh of his calves with his fist, Rene looked anxiously around and discovered that the battle had since moved elsewhere, leaving two black-furred corpses in its wake. Cries of rage and a frenzied shaking among the bushes allowed him to guess where the other monsters were. He hoisted himself to his feet, picked up the safety kit and staggered away from the sounds of fighting, pins and needles still numbing the soles of his feet.
As he stepped over the dead bodies in his path, Rene was just about to congratulate himself on a smooth escape when his toes snagged on something and he tripped, going down heavily on his side. Rene felt a powerful yank on his ankle and looked to see the previously impaled monster glaring up at him. It wriggled on its belly and pulled him closer with one hand while it held in its spilled guts with the other three. By the ancestors, was it strong! Rene hacked at the hand holding his foot and lopped it off at the forearm, feeling only the slightest tug of resistance as the edge sheared through bone and meat alike. The hand was still clamped shut about his ankle with a death grip as he stood back up.
The fiend’s back arched as it brought its vile hump of flesh to the fore, dozens of sucking orifices on its misshapen surface spreading open wide.
Thwip! Thwip!
Jets of silk flew out of the spinnerets, the monster using its claws to grasp the threads and shuttering them back and forth like the shuttles of a loom. Cords flicked out and ensnared Rene’s sword arm, pinning it to his side while the weaver applied a lightning-fast field dressing on its abdominal wound, closing off both ends with wads of its makeshift bandage. Rene strained mightily against the loops of silk, but they never budged an inch. Meanwhile, the monster raked him with its claws, opening bright lines of agony across his chest and shoulder. Rene bit back a scream and dropped the sword point-first into the soil. It sank quivering up to its hilt, leaving him completely defenseless as the monster jumped and snatched him up in its gangly embrace. Rene fell to one knee as its weight bore him to the earth, reaching out with his free hand to draw the sword out of the ground and cleave through its rows of hairy legs.
Severed limbs went rolling every which way, the black devil tottering. Yet as it fell its outer mouthparts seized Rene by the temples and pinned him in place as it bit right into his face. Venomed fangs skittered across the transparent surface of his mask, scoring it with deep scratches. To his amazement the crystal held strong and did not shatter—once more the materials of the ancients had proven their incredible durability. Rene worked his arm clear and chopped wildly at the monster’s arms, felt its hold on him slacken as they fell away, leaving only spurting stumps. The butchered devil fell on its humped back and began shrieking its head off.
Rene raised his sword to deliver the coup de grace but was interrupted by the sudden reemergence of the other combatants who burst back onto the scene. The harpy was grappling with one of the devils, quickly being overpowered by its brute strength. As the devil sank its fangs into the bulging pair of compound eyes and tore off the top of the harpy’s head, the latter found an opening and slipped both its blades through in tight uppercutting motions, ramming them under the devil’s chin and out the other end. Ripping outwards and across with its arms the harpy tore its enemy’s head apart and sent the soggy chunks scattering into the treetops.
Reeling in obvious pain, it kicked the body aside and took off with a shutter of its wings, attempting an escape. A feral scream split the air as, the last devil leapt up to intercept it, entrails dangling in the place of its missing lower body. Devoid of sanity or self-preservation, it tacked the rising harpy and sent both of them crashing into a stout branch. They fell back to the earth with a bone-crunching thump, followed by a confetti-shower of dead leaves shaken from their stems.
Rene looked back at his enemy and saw the devil stubbornly gathering itself up for another spring. All it had left were a single arm and leg apiece, that and a merciless glitter in its eyes.
“You can’t be serious,” he complained, and put an end to its efforts by splitting its head right down the middle. Rene shook his head in disbelief and went over to polish off the other two, snipping his webbed arm loose as he did. He found the bisected devil crawling on its elbows and mewling with pain as it wriggled towards the unmoving body of the harpy, clearly intending to finish what it had started.
There were eyes on the back of its head, Rene now noticed. Four of them, the same number as on the front. It saw him coming and rolled over, raising its arms to shield itself.
Rene’s boot came stomping down all the same. He felt its head crunching under his heel as he squashed it into a flattened pie and was nauseated. Rene then approached the harpy, eyeing its blade arms warily and giving it a wide berth. He didn’t want to get anywhere near those frightful things, not after what he’d seen. Instead he went over to a fallen log and cut himself an oversized club from one of its boughs. Sticking the sword back into the ground, he hefted the length of wood over the harpy, intending to smash its head in from a distance.
He felt strangely squeamish at prospect of another head going splat. A wave of dizziness came over him and he had to take a moment to collect himself, doubling over and beginning to dry heave. Leaning heavily on the bough like a staff, he examined the harpy and thought that it looked sufficiently dead. Through the gaping holes in its face he saw the gooey interior of its head. Was that its brain poking through the cracks in the armored hide? Blimey, it had a big one. Equal parts revolted and intrigued, Rene reached over with the branch and prodded at it, testing for a reflex.
Nothing. Better to be safe than sorry, though. Rene raised the bough on high and steeled himself to do the deed once and for all.
A piece of the head fell away, and Rene gasped. Abandoning common sense, he threw aside the club and squatted over the body, frantically tearing off the rest of its cranial casing, plunging his fingers into the sticky mess and pulling out clumps of armored flesh until what lay beneath was finally revealed.
Rene clutched at his forehead as if it was about to explode. Backing away with a sense of dawning horror, he repeated over and over to himself: “It can’t be. It can’t be, it can’t! That’s not possible! It’s…it’s…”
Beautiful.
That was what Rene had meant to say. But the word felt so utterly absurd given the context that it took all his will to keep from bursting into a fit of deranged laughter. And who could have blamed him?
For beneath the ruined visage of flesh, the creature wore the face of a woman.
Link for all the chapters available here: Engines of Arachnea on Royal Road

As I see the world (and if you disagree there's probably not much to be gained from us talking), things are just a bunch of atoms and then we choose to call them different names because that helps us.
So my evaluation (at age 27) has confirmed that I have sensory issues, obsessive interests, cognitive rigidity, I like to move my hands in an unusual way, and social stuff doesn't come naturally to me. All of those things I had already noticed were parts of my personality, and the ones I find actually make my life harder I was already working on in therapy.
So now that a psychologist has said "some would call this group of traits 'autism'", I'm not sure what to do with that. Like ok, they can call it that if they want. Is it what I want to call it from now on, as opposed to seeing it like I did until a week ago, as just multiple facets of my personality? Do I think it's useful to even group these traits together and give them a name?
If I wanted institutional accomodations or healthcare interventions a diagnosis would be more obviously useful because of how our society gatekeeps those things, but if I just wanna keep doing what I was doing in therapy, then I don't know if I should/want to think of myself as autistic.
Or maybe I can accept the label but just not care about it, like I am a Sagittarius because some people invented the concept of "Sagittarius" and I fit the definition they gave it, so they can call me that if they want, but that's not really something I think about. (Yes, I am comparing psychiatry to astrology because while one is obviously much more rigorous and therefore more useful than the other, both create labelled categories for people which we should decide to use or not based on how much they can help us).
tldr: I don't feel an inherent, instinctual sense of identification with the label "autistic", and I'm not sure if/how it could help me pragmatically.

I have vague memories of a moment etched in my mind from my childhood. The scene I remember was either from a movie or a TV show. I keep thinking it was Tales from the Crypt but I don't think that's it.
As I recall it, there are people in a cabin or house in the woods. They are sitting in a living room setting talking about a spooky story from the area about a creature named - Griller or Grillock - something like that. Part of the story talks about this thing have long arms and hands so big they can crush a basketball. As it progresses the monster smashes it's hands through some windows and crushes a couple of people's skulls.
It's total low budget B film and I can remember it being cheesy but scary for a young kid at the time. I've searched for it randomly but can never seem to find what I'm looking for.
Any help would be great. Thanks in advance.

Several days ago on Tumblr u/Aly0151 asked me:

So how'd you get into the Little Nightmares franchise? What made Six your favorite character?

And I answered it (though it wound up being longer than I'd prefer) and thought I'd copy and paste it here too so the Six Defence Squad can know a little more about me. Also, just to clarify, I don't have any of the games, so I haven't played any of them, so everything I know about them is from reading posts and watching videos:
That’s a bit of a tough question, since it’ll test my memory.
I think I heard of LN and learned a bunch of stuff about it from a video called 107 facts about Little Nightmares, and that video included the 2017 comics, so I was able to know about their existence fairly quickly. Plus I misremembered a part of the video and thought that Six’s name was something like Eliza, lol. The video also included pointing out Shadow Six though I didn’t remember it at the time and when someone pointed out “look on top of the table” of the Nome hunger scene, I thought it was the silhouette of the Lady’s head, so I thought that the Lady was there, knowing what was happening in the room and possibly made Six eat the Nome. Especially since she is seen entering the elevator a moment afterwards. And when I saw the secret ending of LN2, I was like “What? Why is there a shadowy copy of Six now?”. I saw Tericho’s “is Six a villain or victim?” Video and he showed one of the moments where Shadow Six appeared in LN1 and I was like “What?! She was in the first game too?!”. Rewatching the 107 facts video, it confirmed the existence of Shadow Six in the first game.
And I don’t remember who, maybe GamingBeaver, I learned some more about the events of the game, and I saw play throughs of LN1 and got to know the events of the game. And when I watched a video on the events of LN1, it of course was the classic “Six is the Lady’s daughter” conclusion (before the devs debunked it). Though I do like AUs where the Lady and Six are mother and daughter. And it was TheLeaderboard's videos of what happens in each part of the DLCs that informed me of what happened in RK's journey.
I think my interest in LN fizzled out a little until GamingBeaver made his video on the ending of VLN, so I thankfully was able to learn of RCG and a piece of Six’s story that a bunch of the fandom doesn’t know about even to this day. So I got to know a little more about Six.
Then some time passed and I somehow heard of LN2 being in development and was excited about it. And I didn’t find out of when it was released until a couple months after its release. I saw and watched GamingBeaver’s video about the story of LN2 and that’s where I learned of the “Six is the Lady” theory that I despise so much. And I watched CoryKenshi’s play through of it to learn more about the events of that game, and I’m still bitter about how he so easily dumped Sasha Six in favour of Baggy and that he denied that Six is a kid just trying to survive and even reprimanded her for “doing this to all of these people”, you know, the people who tried to kill or eat her. I’m still bitter at CoryKenshi for that.
I’ve been really into LN since the release of the second game and I’m still into it currently.
As for the girl in question, I think she’s my favourite protagonist mostly because she was the one I was introduced to first.
It took me a bit to realise that Six doesn’t have anything visible on her legs, so I got scared that she might not be wearing anything underneath the raincoat, but then I watched Crazy Cowboy’s video “Funny Chef Six” and it contained this official PNG of Six:
https://preview.redd.it/cyuulkiuqg0d1.png?width=300&format=png&auto=webp&s=30d146aee549e7e895c6d4d3ff994277f6c5da46
I spotted the white shorts (though I thought they were yellow at first) and felt relieved that she does have other clothes on under the raincoat. And VLN and LN2 reinforced that fact.
Then VLN and LN2 added more to her story and character, which made me like her even more.
And after LN2 came out and time passed after that, I myself went through character development with judging Mono and Six. At first I didn’t want to believe that Six was selfish and sadistic (which Beaver said she was in his video) and I blamed everything on Mono, but later GamerSault made his “Who is Six?” video (which is private now 😞) where he talked about Six’s selfish side but he d*idn’t *demonize her for it, and I also saw a long but great comment on that video where they compared the sh*tty treatment Six gets from the fandom to the sh*tty treatment Chara gets from the Undertale fandom. These two things helped me accept that Six does have a selfish side, though I still don’t believe that she’s sadistic, especially considering the hypocrisy from the fans when Mono does similar things that gets Six labeled as sadistic for, but he does them to a bigger extent and often did them first.
I don’t place all the blame on Mono anymore, but I still do vehemently sympathize with Six. One because I spent my teen years watching Mr Enter’s Animated Atrocities - where I got my strong sense of justice from - and two, I think I slightly see myself in Six. Call me petty or childish but I relate to Six in the way that her efforts are swept under the rug. Back in school, in P.E we were doing a little exercise where we repeatedly go into the starting position that athletes go into for sprinting, and for some reason we were put into pairs for this. I was paired with someone who apparently had something wrong with her legs so she couldn’t go into the ‘sprint start’ position (understandable), so she decided that I had to do it for her turns as well as mine (not understandable). And when I tried to refuse (I couldn't stand up for myself back then, plus the pose is uncomfortable for me) she just whined "BuT yOu HaVe To". And another time in college, we had to design a magazine front cover for a bricklaying competition and I think I misheard the lecturer because everyone made 6 different covers, while ended up making 12, because I thought that’s how many we had to make. Both of these instances I did literally twice as much work as everyone else, but my efforts were not acknowledged or compensated at all. It's a loose and very specific connection between me and Six, but it's still a connection, so I think I feel some resentment when the fandom does the same thing but far, far worse to Six.
So yeah. Sorry for the long read, but this is how I got into Little Nightmares and why I'm a really strong defender of Six.

The master of ceremonies glanced at the paper in his hand, and a glimpse of confusion showed on his face.
Something was wrong.
“And the third and last team representing Farcrest. Lowell’s Orphanage!”
Elincia clung to my arm, fear and impotence reflected in her expression. We were supposed to be called Rosebud Fencing Academy during the tournament. I clenched my jaw and glanced across the pavilion, giving [Awareness] free rein. Lord Osgiria gave me a mocking look.
I cursed. Among the nobility, everything was appearances. The fact that Farcrest had to resort to a poor orphanage for representation spoke badly about the state of affairs in the territory. The nobles around us exchanged funny looks.
“Keep your heads up. That’s our call,” I said, loud enough for the whole pavilion to hear us. If nobles thought this would weigh upon our shoulders, they were wrong.
Ilya took position by my right as the team captain, and we entered the crescent-shaped arena. The cheering died. Our magnificent uniforms didn’t fool the crowd anymore. I reached the Marquis's side and saluted the VIP box. Only after Prince Adrien started applauding did the rest of the nobles acknowledge our presence.
The commoners in the stands hesitated to cheer for us. This wasn’t a gentle world. They didn’t care about the kid’s feelings. I glanced over my shoulder. Wolf was unfazed, and Zaon moved his lips, repeating, ‘Nervous is good’ repeatedly. Firana, on the other hand, was furious.
“Tough crowd, uh?” I muttered.
“It’s only expected. Orphans don’t get good classes. There is no reason to cheer for us,” Ilya replied with a grin. “Yet.”
Did she look so mature back at the carriage?
The crowd’s attention lingered on us for an instant before the next team entered the arena. To my surprise, a single team represented the royal family: a group of cadets from the Imperial Academy. Five young cadets dressed in plain black, guided by Holst, entered the arena. The crowd came back to life. Considering the opulence of the other teams, the uniforms of the Imperial Academy cadets were disappointing. Even my group was better suited to the occasion.
Holst stood by my left, saluting the stands with a dull gesture.
“Robert Clarke, good to see you still among the living,” he greeted me with a bored tone.
His words, however, sent a shiver down my spine. Did he know assassins had tried to kill me a few days before? Captain Kiln had sworn to keep it a secret. The coincidences piled up. Holst knew about the attack and asked Lyra Jorn’s help with the library when Luzian Abei had a small army of Scholars and Scribes at his disposal. I couldn’t help but think Holst was still in contact with the culprit.
“Preceptor Holst,” I coldly greeted, my brain too busy to formulate a more wordy sentence.
“I didn’t expect to meet my former students,” he added, looking past me at Ilya and the kids. “Certainly not in these circumstances.”
I swallowed my anger. This was a golden opportunity for the orphanage. Watching the skill of the imperial cadets could help me understand why Sir Janus had been the only commoner in Farcrest to assist the Imperial Academy. Even if we lost the tournament, we could improve our chances of getting them accepted into the Imperial Academy, putting them in the same echelon as nobles.
“Do you trust the ability of your current students to win the tournament?” I asked, examining the cadet’s faces. Three humans, a half-elf, and a harpy. They didn’t seem thrilled to be part of the tournament.
Holst laughed.
“These idiots aren’t my students. These five failed their first year. If they don’t win the tournament, they will be kicked out of the Academy,” he replied, shrugging. “For failures like them, I’d say they are the favorites to win the tournament.”
A glance at the Imperial Academy team revealed their strong shoulders and steady feet. Despite the lack of fashion, they looked like trained warriors instead of pampered noble kids. Their faces had lost the roundness of childhood, and their calm demeanor and sharp eyes revealed an intense training regime. I hoped not to bump into them until the later rounds of the tournament.
Our conversation was cut short because the Osgirian teams entered the arena. First, Lord Osgiria, then Lord Nara, and finally, a man dressed as a knight, followed by a group of kids in mismatched uniforms—each one with the colors of their respective houses. Lord Osgiria stood by Holst's side and greeted the VIP box.
If Captain Kiln were right, our team would fight Lord Nara in the first round. I expected the man to be a merchant with a comically large belly. Instead, he looked like a cunning gray fox. I had to remind myself that buying a way into nobility required a skillful negotiator.
“Three teams, Lord Osgiria? You don’t seem too confident in your chances,” Holst casually said.
The Imperial Academy had to be a powerhouse within the kingdom because Lord Osgiria swallowed any snarky remark.
Lord Herran, a tall and muscular redhead dressed in full warrior attire, entered next. I remembered him from the feast—boisterous, talkative, determined. The black mana-repelling axe hung from his belt, causing my stomach to feel sick if I looked for too long. House Herran only had two teams, one led by Lord Herran himself and the other by a man who could be his twin. Only half of the team members were human; the other half were different flavors of beast folk.
More than half of the kids had bright red hair like their lord. I wondered if red hair was a dominant gene in the Herran Dukedom because the kids looked healthy. There was not a trace of the infamous Habsburg chin. They were tall and robust like their lord.
I tried to glance at the axe’s runes, but Lord Herran was too far away.
“That’s lord Herran and his army of copperhead bastards,” Holst pointed out, laughing at his joke.
I doubted that having a dozen children the same age was normal, even more so for a noble, considering how difficult succession could be. Lord Herran must’ve loved to spread his genes.
“It’s okay for him to present his… illegitimate kids in an official event like this?” I asked.
“Do you like gossip, Robert Clarke?” Holst raised an eyebrow.
“I like to be informed,” I replied.
Holst seemed satisfied with my answer.
“Lord Herran is one of the few Combat Prestige Classes in the kingdom. He has the [Conqueror] Class,” Holst replied. “It’s only natural that he can do whatever he wants. Not even the king has enough power over Lord Herran to stop his… reproductive impulses.”
I nodded. The relationship between the royal house and the great three dukedoms was more complex than I initially thought. According to the stories, Combat Prestige Classes were, in essence, one-man armies that could create whole countries around their power. I wondered what kind of monsters the royal army found in the Deep Farlands to be obliged to retreat.
After Lord Herra, Lord Gairon entered the arena. The Gairon House was arguably the second most powerful family after the royal house, and their uniforms reflected their status. The blue was rich and deep, and the gold shone under the winter sun, seemingly casting the few clouds away. The crowd yelled and cheered. It wasn’t surprising. Lord Gairon was a tall, tanned man with hair the color of ripe wheat—the perfect poster boy and leader of the anti-war faction.
“He has to go down if we want the royal faction to have a chance,” Holst said.
It suddenly hit me. Holst and I technically supported the same faction.
“Lord Gairon is also a Prestige Class?” I asked.
“A [Sacred Knight], yes. Rumor says he reached the mythic level sixty,” Holst replied. “Let’s hope their teams are more… farming inclined.”
The crowd became more tame after the three big houses made their entrance. Lord Vedras received less than half of House Gairon’s support, probably because of the tax disputes between Farcrest and the Vedras dukedom. He had brought three teams.
Duke Jorn’s presence almost caused the arena to become completely silent—Holst told me he was also a high-level Prestige Class, a Shadow Stalker.
“That sounds dangerous,” I pointed out.
“Sellen Jorn is one of the most dangerous men in the kingdom. His mere existence was enough for the king to create a whole new duchy,” Holst said. “Take an Assassin and a Shadow Fencer, mix them, double their powers, and then double them again. That’s a Shadow Stalker in a nutshell.”
I tried to imagine it. The Assassin who attacked the orphanage would have had a hard time with any class without a skill like my mana blades. I had been lucky to have a favorable matchup against him; otherwise, I might have been dead. His capacity to disable my movement was scarily effective. A man with the skills of an Assassin and a Shadow Fencer had dangerous implications.
“Prince Adrien wanted Sellen Jorn as his Master of Assassins, but he didn’t want to leave his people in the north,” Holst said. “Walls, doors, bars, locks, nothing can stop a Shadow Stalker. Only the woven barrier of several high-level Fortifiers can stop him. Or so it’s said.”
Gears turned inside my skull. I wondered if Duke Jorn was involved in the disappearance of the evidence of Raudhan’s poisoning. He certainly had the skill to move unnoticed through the Great Hall. Stealing a box with shards of glass would be a walk in the park for him.
The rest of the teams passed in a blur as my mind reviewed the party's events. Sellen Jorn was undoubtedly suspicious. His lack of presence was as unnerving as it was useful for an infiltration mission. Could he be involved in Raudhan’s poisoning? Lord Vedras had denied the existence of any co-conspirators, and we were almost entirely sure that Raudhan hadn’t been poisoned by Ashroot.
Duke Jorn's political positioning was hard to determine. The northern dukedoms were poor, and just like Farcrest, they served as a bulwark against the Monster Surges. Four families controlled most of the kingdom’s economy and politics. House Gairon, House Herran, House Osgiria, and the Royal Family. The northern dukedoms didn’t benefit from the current trade routes and wouldn’t directly benefit from a new trade route into the Kingdom of Tagabiria.
However, they would benefit from a closer relationship with the royal family.
Duke Jorn had no reason to poison Captain Kiln.
Ilya tugged the sleeve of my jacket, bringing me back to the present. The master of ceremonies was finishing a long speech about the legacy of Stephaniss of Farcrest, the previous lord of the city and the Marquis's grandfather. Even the Marquis seemed bored.
“Prince Adrien will draw the matches for the first round!” The master of ceremonies announced.
Prince Adrien came forward, and an assistant brought a glass bowl filled with small wooden rods. He put his hand in the bowl, picked one randomly, and passed it to his companion. The woman dressed in purple read it out loud, her voice magically amplified. Her pleasant contralto voice made me think she was a singer.
“House Nara versus…” she received the second wooden rod. “Lowell’s Orphanage!”
Just like Captain Kiln had warned me.
I didn’t expect us to be the opening fight. The other teams returned to the pavilion, and a group of Scribes carried the System Shrine Shard embedded in its copper nest to the center of the arena. I assumed it was there to ensure all participants met the requirements for the tournament.
“Let’s go, team,” I said.
We formed next to the Shrine Shard and in front of Lord Nara’s team. The master of ceremonies activated the blue orb, and the kids' names, classes, and levels appeared before us. Luckily, Lord Nara and I were exempt from the crystal ability. Being outed as a Runeweaver wasn’t part of my plans.
Belya Nara, Geomancer Lv.3
Arel Nara, Warrior Lv.5
Lino, Soldier Lv.9
Jan, Archer Lv.3
Aiwin, Courier Lv.7
Firana Aias, Wind Fencer Lv.1
Ilya, Hunter Lv.2
Zaon, Classless Lv.1
Wolf, Classless Lv.1
The System prompts might have been big enough for the crowd to read because a murmur rose from the stands. I didn’t need [Awareness] to understand the commotion. Half of my team was classless in a world where Classes were everything. Lord Nara also seemed to notice the discrepancy between our teams.
“I’m feeling generous today, Mister Caretaker. I will gladly accept your surrender and spare you the embarrassment if you apologize for wasting our time,” Lord Nara said with a mellow, totally fake voice. “You can save the kids the shame of losing in front of their countrymen.”
The master of ceremonies looked at me.
“What do you think, Ilya?” I asked.
“The team is ready, Mister Clarke. We fight,” she replied without any hint of doubt.
Despite Lord Nara’s clever expression, he was underestimating us. I couldn’t blame him. He had lived all his life in a world where value was determined by class and level. Developing an eye for people wasn’t as helpful as on Earth, where it could mean the difference between life and death.
“We fight,” I said.
“Don’t say I didn’t extend the courtesy of an honorable withdrawal,” Lord Nara grinned, his fox-like eyes turned into thin lines.
The master of ceremonies nodded.
“The Rules are simple. The team that loses the coin toss has to choose its first fighter, and then the winning team chooses its opponent. Then, the roles change. Every team has two picks and two counter picks, for a total of four fighters,” the master of ceremonies explained, pulling a gold coin from the pocket.
I nodded. There was a level of strategy involved in the pairing phase. I could pair Firana against their weakest member to ensure a vast point difference. Or I could choose Zaon to keep things equalized. If I were Lord Nara, I would leave the Lv.7 Courier outside the selection. As fast as they were, they weren’t a combatant Class, but on the other hand, even non-combatants could develop useful masteries.
Zaon had a good matchup against the Soldier and the Warrior, as their combat skills were on the ‘basic’ side of the spectrum. However, the Archer, the Geomancer, and the Courier could present a problem to him. Wolf also had a bad matchup against the Archer and the Geomancer because he relied on solid and static positioning to use his muscles. Ilya and Firana had good matchups against the enemy team, but the enemy Geomancer worried me the most. She wasn’t just an Advanced Class, but a relative of Lord Nara.
“Here goes the coin,” the master of ceremonies said. He threw it high and caught it mid-flight.
Lord Nara kindly offered me the call.
“Heads,” I replied with a grin.
“Heads,” the master of ceremonies said, revealing the coin.
[Awareness] didn’t disappoint, but I made a mental note to keep it hidden from Ilya. She wouldn’t be on board with blatant cheating, even if we had the disadvantage. As cunning as Ilya was, strategy and cheats were completely different.
Lord Nara huffed. “Lino, you go first.”
The Soldier kid stepped forward. He was tall, probably a year older than my kids, but [Awareness] told me he was nervous. Soldier Class was painfully close to no class at all.
“Zaon, you go first. Is that okay with you?” I said, hoping the combination of Light-Footed and Lv.2 Longsword Mastery would match a Lv.9 Soldier with a couple of skills under his sleeve.
Zaon nodded.
It was my turn to choose and Lord Nara’s turn to counter-pick. “Ilya, you go second,” I said.
Ilya came forward, prompting a laugh from the rival Fighter.
“Do you want to fight the gnome, Arel?” Lord Nara asked.
“Yes, my lord. I’m confident I can get a ten-point lead over a Gnome Hunter,” Arel Nara replied.
A vein popped on Ilya’s forehead.
“Good. I chose my cousin Arel Nara for the second fight,” Lord Nara said.
Then, Lord Nara selected the Archer boy for the third fight, which put me in a tough spot. The Archer and the Geomancer were hard matchups for Wolf, and I lacked a fifth or sixth member to play around it. Nonetheless, the Archers weren’t known for their vast arsenal of skills.
“Wolf, you go against him,” I said.
Wolf nodded.
“Which leaves us with the last pair,” Lord Nara said with a mocking smile.
“Firana, you go last,” I said.
“Belya, my daughter, will be my last pick,” Lord Nara replied.
The dueling pairs were ready.
“So be it. The tournament's first match will be between Lino the Soldier and Zaon the Elf,” the master of ceremonies said, his voice suddenly amplified again as the Scribes took the System Shrine orb away. “Contestants, please go get your equipment. May the System bless you all.”
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Well, I think i should've put this in offmychest because this post is pretty much a vent but a little advice is appreciated.
For context, I'm in my late teens. I just graduated highschool and will be starting college later this year. I have a sister who's a few years younger than me.
Growing up, I was pretty much "daddy's little princess". He spoilt both my sister and me rotten ffs. We were a really happy family. He taught me everything he could and was ALWAYS there for us kids, no matter what. He always encouraged us to take up any hobby we wanted, drove us himself to and from classes, and I can't even talk about the books, toys and other things he got for us without it being an understatement. He was literally my superhero. When i was a kid, i seriously thought that my dad was the strongest and smartest person in the whole wide world. Not to mention, he was a really really good human being too. Even if a person totally unrelated to him reached out for help, he'd do his best to help them in a heartbeat. I love him so much, and could love no one else as much as him because he's literally the best dad ever.
Exactly a month ago, he had a subarachnoid brain hemorrhage unexpectedly. It was a huge shock seeing my dad unconscious on the floor with his head in a puddle of blood when we woke up in the morning. It was the last thing i expected to say the very least. My sister's birthday was on the previous day, so I put together a small party for her even if she refused and dad thanked me for taking care of my sister and told me that it was the best birthday he had ever witnessed in his life (it wasn't extravagant or anything, literally a small family gathering with cake and some snacks). The thing is, he didn't have high blood pressure, nor did he hurt his head (we didn't hear anything if he supposedly hit his head and fell down and he had no external injuries other than a black eye). We traveled and he drove a few hours on the day before my sister's birthday. Everything was completely normal and we actually had a great time together. He was in a coma for nearly two weeks and then was on life support for around another week after being diagnosed brain dead, because my mom and I needed time to process everything that was going on. We tried everything out there to try and get some response, from the regular medical things to sound therapy, accupressure, homeopathy and anything anyone suggested would work. But unfortunately, he didn't make it and faced a natural death a week or so ago (as in we didn't have to decide when to take him off life support)
They're doing funeral stuff and i don't want to be a part of anything because I'm being delusional and thinking that he's gonna come back. We have a golden retriever, who i take care of to keep me busy during the day and also because dad let me keep it as an emotional support animal, without which i would've committed again. At other times of the day, i just can't get myself to get out of bed. I feel really nauseous, my legs always feel tingly and almost like they're burning and I'm shaky sometimes. I've been on continuous medication and therapy for over a year now. My psychiatrist didn't want to diagnose me since he didn't want me to live with a label of a mental illness but a family doctor informally told us that I had BPD. I've gotten so much better with all the support I've gotten because at one point I used to attempt every other day to try to escape reality. At this point of time, both my parents were with me most of the time trying to provide as much support as they physically could, leaving my sister out a lot. I have some horrible things i don't remember doing as a child from my own memory that my sister told me about. My parents have endured so much and when things finally got better, this happened.
My dad worked with online security and stuff in the past so he was really scared of me getting into trouble. For context, I sent nudes to my bf (both of us were minors) two years ago and got caught because my phone was hacked. I didn't get to have a phone for nearly two years and though it seems like a bad thing, I did pretty well in school. Yeah well he was probably really stressed when I told him I'd still be talking to my bf once I finished school. I was originally supposed to study abroad, that might've caused him a lot of stress, knowing I'd be alone. He wasn't really okay with me dating either cuz he was paranoid guys would hurt me and ruin my life and he was also a little conservative too. Knowing that stress can be a cause of a SAH, I'm pretty sure I'm the cause for his death (I have this gruesome feeling that i physically feel when i mentioned that he died or anything like that). My little sister hates me for it, since she feels it was me who stressed him out with my mental issues. My mom's being as supportive as she can buy she's devastated too. I still take meds, and therapy. I have a LOT of family support, which I'm very grateful for, and also my bf who's been very patient with me. Everyone's literally taking time out of their day to tend to us and help us out. I've seen so many people who I'd never heard of or even seen in my life bawl their eyes when they visited dad at the hospital. That's just how much everyone loves him. I've been trying my best to stay strong but i just can't believe I lost him. I try telling myself to stop being delusional and that he isn't out on a work trip, but inside I'm just hoping my superhero fighter dad will be back all safe and sound. I visited him at the hospital a few times a day everyday and i always told him positive things and how much i loved him even if he could probably not hear anything, but when I saw him lifeless, I almost passed out. I couldn't believe that he was gone. I mean the doctors had told us that he'd only push until his heart could so it wasn't unexpected. He also had complications with blood clotting that added to the problem. I really have no idea what to do because the last thing he'd want is me laying in bed most of the day.
Tl;Dr : I lost my dad around a week ago and even with the help from medication, therapy and family and friends support I'm not able to get out of bed or accept that he's gone. Any advice on how I can get better is much appreciated
Sorry guys this post is all over the place, I'm sleep deprived even if I'm in bed most of the day and i have no idea what I'm saying, and i have no idea how to put my emotions in words

Living in a small southern town, you get used to the way things are. I grew up as a military brat, so my childhood memories are a blur of packing, unpacking, and getting settled. It had been seven years since we arrived, and nothing but the grace of God would make me move again. A few years ago, my father got orders to station at a base in the middle of the Mohave. I was only seventeen then, but after a few dozen screaming matches, I decided to strike out on my own a little early. I got a part-time job at the cafe, which was enough to rent a little run-down shack a couple of blocks from downtown. As far as I was concerned, I was living the dream—serving coffee a few hours a week and spending the rest of my time hanging out with friends, listening to music, and drinking.
That particular morning started the same as any other. I woke up around noon with a text from Mark to meet me at the cafe. Took me about two hours to get up and head over. The sun had just begun its descent as I pushed the door to the cafe open, the bell above tinkling softly. The sound bothered me a little bit, but I couldn’t tell why. It seemed to ring a little louder than I was expecting, and gave me this strange drilling sensation inside my head.
I ignored the feeling as the smell of slightly stale coffee and pastries washed over me. I saw Mark and Jamie already sat at our usual spot. Mark looked up as I approached, a grin spreading across his face. "Hey, Alex. Sarah should be here soon."
“So what's on the docket today?” I asked as I sat down, stealing a bear claw off Jamie's plate and taking a large bite before he had the chance to protest.
Mark’s excitement was almost palpable. He was always the one with the big ideas and crazy schemes, which I honestly appreciated. They got us into trouble more often than not, but it beat day drinking in the Walmart parking lot like everyone else our age.
"Alright, check this out," Mark said, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "I was talking to my cousin who works for the county. He told me about this old, abandoned food processing factory just outside of town. They used to can peaches there."
I gave him a skeptical look. "That’s your idea? Old, canned peaches?"
"No, idiot," he scoffed. "They left behind a ton of nitrates and phosphates. I’ve been doing some reading, and we can use them to make fireworks. I was up all night figuring it out and putting these together." He subtly opened his backpack to reveal at least a dozen PVC pipes fitted on both ends.
"Now that's what I’m talking about," I said, grinning.
Sarah walked in, catching the tail end of our conversation. "Sorry I’m late, I had a breakout and had to stop by the pharmacy. Upped my allergy meds. I fucking hate pollen," she said as I scooted over to make room for her on the bench.
"Is there anything you aren't allergic to?" I laughed.
She rolled her eyes, ignoring my question. "So, what's the plan for today?"
Mark, Jamie and I exchanged cheeky glances. "Well," I started, "let’s just hope you’re not allergic to peaches."
We finally managed to pry the side door of the factory off, which broke free from the hinges and smashed against the floor. Stepping inside, the air was thick and rancid as we bounced the beams of our flashlights around the packaging floor.
"We should split up," Mark suggested. "Alex, you and Sarah check out the storage rooms for the chemicals. Jamie and I will find the control room and see if we can get the power back on."
All of us nodded as we went our separate ways. Sarah and I wandered down the dark hallways, kicking open doors and looking for anything that looked vaguely like chemicals. The corridors were dark and damp, with black mold snaking along the walls like veins.
The first few rooms we checked were empty, filled only with dust and the remnants of long-abandoned equipment. Each door creaked as we pushed it open, revealing more decay and desolation.
As we moved further down the hallway, the mold seemed to become more aggressive, spreading in thick, dark patches along the walls and floors. The air grew heavier, making it harder to breathe. We kicked open another door, our flashlights revealing more of the same—nothing useful.
"This place is a bust," Sarah muttered,
"Let's keep looking," I replied, though I was starting to feel the same way. "There has to be something."
We continued down the corridor, our footsteps echoing in the silence. As we approached the end of the hall, something caught my eye. One door stood out, covered in black, creeping mold that seemed to pulse and writhe. Tendrils of fungus snaked out from the edges, reaching out into the hallway.
"Sarah, look at this," I said.
She turned to see what I was pointing at and her eyes widened. "That’s... different."
We approached the door cautiously as the tendrils moved and swayed.
With a deep breath, we each grabbed one side of the door and pulled. It resisted for a moment before giving way, the mold snapping and tearing as we forced it open. The smell that hit us was overpowering, a mix of rot and decay that made my eyes water.
Inside, our flashlights revealed a horrifying sight. At the back of the room sat several pallets with dozens of boxes of peaches each. But it was what grew from these boxes that will haunt my nightmares till my dying day.
The entire back wall was consumed by a towering fungal mass. Thick, fleshy stalks jutted out from the base, climbing nearly to the ceiling. The surface of the fungus glistened with a slimy, wet sheen, appearing almost like rotting flesh under our flashlight beams. Each stalk was covered in a mottled, sickly green and yellow hue, with patches of black mold that seemed to pulse in the dim light.
Interwoven within this horrific sight were bulbous growths, each one throbbing rhythmically, as if with a heartbeat of its own. They resembled obscene, overgrown tumors, ready to burst at the slightest touch. Long, sinewy tendrils extended from the main mass, creeping over the boxes and along the floor like the fingers of some malevolent creature, seeking out any life to ensnare.
The tendrils near the door twitched, slowly inching their way toward us as if aware of our presence. The air was thick with spores, glimmering in the light like tiny stars, each one a potential harbinger of decay and death.
"Oh my god," Sarah whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of our own breathing. "What is that thing?"
We stood there, frozen in shock and disgust, before I slammed the door shut.
"Let's get the hell out of here," I said.
We hurried back down the corridor, our footsteps echoing in the oppressive silence. The lights in the facility flickered on, casting a blinding white light. I heard a bubbling, groaning noise emanate from behind the fungal door, sending a wave of nausea through my body.
We met back up with Mark and Jamie in the main area and quickly told them what we saw.
"Yo, that sounds sick," Jamie exclaimed. "We should blow it up. I found the chemicals in the control room and these bad boys are ready to go," he said, holding up a pipe bomb.
"Yeah," Mark agreed, his eyes alight with excitement. "We'd be doing the world a favor, getting rid of that thing."
Sarah shook her head, her face pale. "No way. I'm not doing this. That thing... It's not normal. We need to get out of here and call someone who knows what they're doing."
Jamie frowned. "Come on, Sarah. Don't be a buzzkill. This is a once-in-a-lifetime chance to do something epic."
"Epic?" Sarah snapped. "That thing is dangerous. We don't know what we're dealing with. I'm not risking my life for some stupid joke."
Mark stepped in with a grin. "Alright, let's all calm down. If you’re scared you can just let the men handle it.”
Sarah crossed her arms. "Fine, but I'm staying here."
"Suit yourself," Jamie said, shrugging. "But we're not leaving without taking care of that thing."
"Alright, let's do this," Mark said, looking at Jamie and me. "We'll be quick. Sarah, stay here and keep an eye out.”
The hallway looked completely different in the fluorescent lighting. I could see now that each vein of fungus emanated from that single door, like a spiral portal threatening to suck us in.
"Let's make this quick," I whispered, glancing back at Jamie and Mark. "We light the bomb, throw it in, and get the hell out of here."
Jamie nodded, holding the pipe bomb tightly in his hand. "Ready when you are."
We reached the door, and the tendrils of fungus seemed even more aggressive, writhing and pulsing as if aware of our presence. The air was thick with spores.
"On three," I whispered, gripping the edge of the door. "One... two... three."
We yanked the door open, the mold snapping and tearing as it gave way. The smell of rot and decay hit us again, making my eyes water. The monstrous fungal mass loomed before us, its bulbous growths throbbing rhythmically.
Jamie lit the fuse and threw the bomb as hard as he could inside. It struck one of the orbs, which burst, shooting a fine white mist into the air.
"Run!" I shouted, slamming the door shut. We turned and sprinted down the hallway. The explosion sounded behind us, the shockwave lifting me off my feet and sending me tumbling to the ground.
Living in a small southern town, you get used to the way things are. My parents were in the army, so we moved a lot, but now I'm staying put. I woke up around noon and got a text from Mark to meet at the cafe. The smell of slightly stale coffee and pastries greeted me as I arrived. The bell's ring seemed off, giving me a small headache.
I ignored it and slid into the seat across from Mark and Jamie. “So what's on the docket today?” I asked, stealing a doughnut off Jamie's plate.
“Going to go to an old peach factory and get some chemicals. I need to make some fireworks,” Mark replied, subtly revealing some pipe bombs in his bag.
Sarah walked in towards the tail end of our conversation and silently stood next to our table.
The three of us glanced at each other, unsure of how to proceed. “Sarah,” I finally started. “Are you ok?”
“Y-yeah,” she replied. “Are YOU guys feeling ok?”
We exchanged uneasy glances. “Yeah, we’re fine,” I said. After a moment, she shook her head and sat down as we continued our plans.
That evening, we broke into the peach factory. We found this disgusting, gigantic fungal growth coming out of some boxes of peaches and we blew it up with some pipe bombs.
The next day I woke up around noon and got a text from Mark to meet at the cafe. The smell of slightly stale coffee and pastries greeted me as I arrived. The bell's ring seemed off, giving me a small migraine.
I ignored it and slid into the seat across from Mark and Jamie. “So what's on the docket today?” I asked, stealing a maroon off Jamie's plate.
“Going to go to an old peach factory and get some chemicals. I need to make some fireworks,” Mark replied, subtly revealing some pipe bombs in his bag.
Sarah walked in towards the tail end of our conversation and silently stood next to our table.
The three of us glanced at each other, unsure of how to proceed. “Sarah,” I finally started. “Are you ok?”
“Y-yeah,” she replied. “Not really. Are YOU guys feeling Ok?”
We exchanged uneasy glances. “Yeah, we’re fine,” I said. After a moment, she shook her head and sat down as we continued our plans.
That evening, we broke into the peach factory. We found this disgusting, gigantic fungal growth coming out of some boxes of peaches and we blew it up with some pipe bombs.
The next day I woke up around noon and got a text from Mark to meet at the cafe. The smell of slightly stale coffee and pastries greeted me as I arrived. The bell's ring seemed off, giving me a piercing migraine.
I ignored it and slid into the seat across from Mark and Jamie. “So what's on the docket today?” I asked, stealing a bagel off Jamie's plate.
“Going to go to an old peach factory and get some chemicals. I need to make some fireworks,” Mark replied, subtly revealing some pipe bombs in his bag.
Sarah walked in towards the tail end of our conversation and silently stood next to our table.
The three of us glanced at each other, unsure of how to proceed. “Sarah,” I finally started. “Are you ok?”
“What's going on?” she asked, tears welling up in her eyes. “I’m scared.”
We exchanged uneasy glances. “It’s fine, Sarah. Just take a seat,” I said. After a moment, she shook her head and sat down as we continued our plans.
That evening, we broke into the peach factory. We found this disgusting, gigantic fungal growth coming out of some boxes of peaches and we blew it up with some pipe bombs.
The next day I woke up around noon and got a text from Mark to meet at the cafe. The smell of slightly stale coffee and pastries greeted me as I arrived. The bell's ring seemed off, giving me a splitting migraine.
As I slid into the seat across from Mark and Jamie, I noticed Sarah outside, fixated on a bird suspended in mid-flight. I went out to see her.
"Are you seeing this?" she asked, her voice tinged with astonishment.
"Yeah," I replied nonchalantly. "That happens all the time. Are you sure you're feeling okay?"
"What the hell do you mean, 'Am I feeling okay?'!" she screamed. "That bird is frozen mid-air, and you don't think anything weird is going on?"
Her yelling took me aback. I didn't understand her alarm, so I shrugged it off and joined Mark inside. As we began planning our nightly excursion to the peach factory, Sarah burst through the door, screaming, then vanished in a puff of smoke.
"That's odd," I mused, my brow furrowed in confusion before we shrugged it off and resumed our scheming.
The day after, I met Mark again at the cafe. This rhythm had become our existence: meetings by day, adventures by night at the old peach plant. That evening followed the familiar pattern; we reveled in the thrill of hurling pipe bombs into that small enclosed room.
This routine had completely engulfed our lives. Day after day at the cafe, night after night at the factory—it seemed as though this cycle was all we had ever known. Reflecting on it, I couldn't remember any other way of life.
However, one thing increasingly disturbed me—the ringing of the doorbell at the cafe's entrance. Each time I entered, the sound seemed sharper, more grating. Focusing on it brought a searing pain to my head, like a needle drilling through my skull. Yet, despite the agony, I found myself obsessing over it, the sound gnawing at the edges of my sanity.
One day, driven to the brink by this incessant ringing, I decided to confront it head-on. I stood by the door, letting the bell chime repeatedly. Each ring sliced through my mind, but I persisted, sweat beading on my forehead, teeth clenched in torment.
As the pain crescendoed, reality shattered. I woke to the blaring of a fire alarm, not the quaint doorbell I had imagined. The cafe was engulfed in chaos. The hallway was consumed by a sprawling fungal mass, its tendrils creeping along the walls.
In the dim, flickering light, I saw Jamie, or what was left of him. Half of his skull was missing, the fungus attached grotesquely to his exposed brain, pulsating with each eerie beat of his fading heart. Mark was there too, seemingly unharmed physically, but trapped in a delusion, his eyes glazed over, a smile playing on his lips as the fungus encased him.
Sarah lay collapsed by the fire alarm, her hand still on the lever. She had managed to pull it before succumbing to the spores that now clung to her body.
The tendrils that had enveloped me snapped violently, each break releasing a sickening crack that echoed through the eerie silence of the hallway. An outline of my body remained imprinted in the fungal mass, a mold from which I had desperately broken free.
Gritting my teeth against the pain and horror, I scrambled to Mark and Sarah. Mark was less entangled, lost in his fungal-induced stupor. I grabbed him under the arms, his body limp but alive, and dragged him across the floor. The fungus resisted, stretching like sinew before tearing away from him with wet, ripping sounds.
Sarah was heavier, her body weakened but still fighting. I clasped her wrists, pulling with all my strength. The fungus clung to her, tendrils winding up her arms like ivy. With a final, determined yank, the last of the tendrils snapped, freeing her. We left behind fragments of the monstrous growth clinging to her clothes.
Together, we staggered out into the night air, away from the suffocating enclosure. The cool air hit our faces, harsh yet cleansing. Behind us, the fire alarm continued to blare into the night. I fumbled with my phone, hands shaking, to dial the emergency number. The call went through, and within minutes, the sound of sirens cut through the stillness of the night, growing louder as help approached.
The next few days were a blur. I remember fading in and out of consciousness as nurses pumped antifungals directly into my IV, their faces blurring into the sterile environment. Once we were somewhat cognizant, the police wanted answers. One by one, we were interviewed, but we gave them nothing. I still don’t know what the exact penalty is for manufacturing explosives and using them to destroy a building, but I’m guessing it’s not community service. Jamie was still missing, and they hadn’t found any sign of him or his body. I tried to hide my tears as I knew he was already long gone.
After a few weeks, I was finally cleared for visitors and got to see Sarah again. She told me that after the explosion, she ran but couldn’t leave us behind. She came back, only to see us being consumed by the fungus. Try as she might, she wasn’t able to free us as she felt the oppressive spores take her under. She fought back and managed to pull the fire alarm before succumbing again. The doctors told her that her allergy medication gave her some resistance to the fungus; otherwise, she might have been a goner.
Mark was never the same. We never talked about what happened, and after trying once and him flipping out, I figured it was best to let sleeping dogs lie. That summer, he moved to upstate New York to work in his dad’s business. I haven’t seen him since. That fall, Sarah started college at Savannah State. I still call her every now and again, but it’s not like it used to be.
Despite all that happened, I’m not moving again. I’m happy here, and if it’s up to me, I’ll die in this little town. I still work at the cafe, as a manager now. On weekends, I come in and just sit at the booth we all used to share.
I still think about Jamie from time to time. I wonder if he's dead or still stuck in his delusion, picturing the four of us sitting at our table, talking, laughing, and passing the time. Sometimes, when the cafe is empty and the light is just right, I can almost see him there, his smile frozen in that moment before everything went wrong.
The cafe grows quieter each day, the hum of life fading into an eerie stillness. My skin feels different, as if the air itself whispers secrets I can't quite grasp. The itching that started as a minor annoyance has intensified, becoming a constant torment. I scratch at lesions that have begun to form on my arms and chest, red and raw, with patches of green spreading beneath the surface. I’ve started to wear long sleeves to cover my arms and a mask to hide my purpling lips.
Some nights, when closing, as I sit alone in the dim light of the cafe, the itching becomes unbearable. I claw at the lesions, feeling a dampness beneath my skin. Sometimes, when I cough, I could swear I see tiny spores hanging in the air, reminiscent of the bursting nodules growing on the stalks of the monster.
Occasionally, I hear the bell ring and the door open, but no one is there. I look outside into the empty night and see nothing. This went on for weeks, becoming more frequent. But one night, the door opened, and I saw Jamie standing there, the picture of health. I went to embrace him and noticed my lesions were gone too. It was almost as if we had never gone to the peach factory. It was suddenly morning, and the light shone through the cafe. For the first time in forever, we were happy. We talked about nothing, passing the time.
After what felt like hours, he told me it was time to go. But his mouth wasn’t moving—I felt like I could read his thoughts, and he could read mine. We stood up as I took one last look at the cafe and headed off with him, back to the peach factory.
As we walked, a strange calmness settled over me. I remember feeling that I wanted to ask if he had talked to Mark or Sarah, and wondered how they were doing. But deep down, somehow, I could feel their presence and I knew they were doing just fine. The sun was bright, the air crisp. The itching had vanished completely, replaced by an inexplicable craving for the sweetness of ripe peaches. Jamie and I shared a silent understanding, a bond deeper than any words could convey.
The factory loomed ahead, its doors wide open as if inviting us in. The familiar scent of peaches and something else—something earthy and ancient—filled the air. We stepped inside, side by side, feeling at home for the first time in ages.
The last thing I remember before the darkness took over was the feeling of the soft, warm peach flesh in my hand, and Jamie’s voice in my head saying, "Welcome home."

Before going into it, I want to mention how this post was inspired by three things. One was user u/HastyvonFuego2 and their post on going down the rabbit hole on the Kendrick sub last week. It was also inspired by Childish Gambino’s first album release in nearly 6 years where I have been sitting on this idea for a while but he inspired me to finally post this week like he did (never posted on Reddit at all before so be gentle if I am not doing it right)! I was also inspired by an interview Bino gave to GQ about breaking down his most iconic characters. In this interview he says how This is America started out as a Drake diss but then he realized the song was too hard for just Drake so he kept working on it. He also talks in this interview about how all culture is about compression. Which means that yes, This is America is about the gun violence and police issues in America, but compressed in this video is also more about where that culture comes from which he shows is from a small handful of rap moguls, namely Drake, Diddy and Jay-Z (bear with me on this long post, I think/hope it will be worth it). At the end I talk briefly about how Little Foot Big Foot might be in this same vein of cultural compression.
[Intro: Choir]
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah, go, go away
The beginning of this song has no background music yet, which really gives it an ‘in the beginning’ feel. Then Gambino starts doing his dances with weird facial expressions. I will explain as we go through his video how those expressions and dance moves represent different famous rap moguls. One easy look to pick out right away is Jay-Z’s famous lip curl/growl look that Gambino gives with a head nod repeatedly. The colonial pants have been a hot topic, but since it’s only the pants that are colonial, Gambino is saying the bottom or basis for this violent culture in America is ultimately colonialism. The lyrics ‘Go Away’, are likely foreshadowing the rap moguls wanting other popular rap rivals to ‘go away’ or they will make them (aka murder them) for profit.
[Bridge: Childish Gambino & Young Thug]
We just wanna party
Party just for you
We just want the money
Money just for you (Yeah)
Usually you want money for yourself and to party for yourself, so this is a bit odd. But what Gambino is referring to is similar to these Diddy ‘freakoff parties’ we are hearing about where people who want to be famous are really partying for these rap moguls so they can get close to them. Where they suck up to them saying that they want to earn the mogul money from their songs.
I know you wanna party
Party just for free
Girl, you got me dancin' (Girl, you got me dancin')
Dance and shake the frame (Yeah)
Then this almost feels like the Diddy rebuttal where he’s like ya I know you want to party and you want to do it for free. Like Katt Williams says, “you gotta tell Diddy no”, it is never free to go to those parties. There are always consequences. When you are partying you are dancing, but shaking the frame could refer to how those boundaries/edges are being crossed, lines are blurred, etc.
Then in the video, the fellow who was playing the guitar gets shot and things turn dark from happy music. I believe that this guitar tune is meant to represent 2Pac and Nas’s song Thugz Mansion. It’s one of the original greats from ‘in the beginning’. Nas famously has always had major issues with Jay-Z too (More on why 2Pac and Nas later). It also represents how it was these moguls who murdered 2Pac like Jaguar Wright and Katt Williams keep saying. Where these murders only lead to more money and fame for the killers when the dead artists’ and their music are exploited more easily.
Also note that the gun gets taken away by a school kid after the shooting, more on this later as well.
[Verse 1: Childish Gambino, Young Thug, Blocboy JB & 21 Savage]
This is America (Skrrt, skrrt, woo)
Don't catch you slippin' now (Ayy)
Look how I'm livin' now
Police be trippin' now (Woo)
Yeah, this is America (Woo, ayy)
Guns in my area (Word, my area)
There is a song called Guns in My Area by Lil Weiner and Baby Chapox that paints a vivid picture of the everyday struggles and conflicts faced by those living in communities affected by gun violence. More compression of other songs and the American gun culture.
I got the strap (Ayy, ayy)
I gotta carry 'em
I am almost certain this line is referring to 2Pac’s song Changes. Throughout This is America, Gambino takes lines from Pac’s song: “They get jealous when they see you with your mobile phone” (referred to later in this a Celly, that’s tool) “That's the sound of my tool, you say it ain't cool, My mama didn't raise no fool”
“And as long as I stay black, I gotta stay strapped, And I never get to lay back” It seems like Gambino broke up these lyrics and scattered them throughout his song. This plays into the theme that everyone is using 2Pac and enriching themselves off of his image and music. I show below how this particular section of the video represents Diddy meaning that Diddy himself is exploiting his music (and alleging that Diddy killed Pac?). We could see this exploitation play out at length with how much Diddy milked the death of Biggie like in Every Breath You Take.
Yeah, yeah, I'ma go into this (Ugh)
Yeah, yeah, this is guerilla (Woo)
Yeah, yeah, I'ma go get the bag
The song Gorilla War by $uicideboy$ and Ramirez talks about getting a bag repeatedly in the course. Also in Otis with Kanye and Jay-Z their lyrics talk about going gorilla (I talk about this song more further down), so it could be referring to this as well. It seems like Gambino is trying to pull out lyrics from all across the rap culture and embed them in his song to highlight the ‘cultural compression’.
Yeah, yeah, I'm so cold like, yeah (Yeah)
I'm so dope like, yeah (Woo)
We gon' blow like, yeah (Straight up, uh)
I think that all of the school kids in the video represent all of the rappers that are signed with these big labels. Which is interesting because they are the ones facilitating the guns for the moguls in the video. You can see that the mogul is really focused on the kids and gets agitated and directs them to follow him whenever they stray off a bit like they are his pupils, or like he owns them. Then all of a sudden the camera comes into a scene where you can see more kids shooting a rap video and all shooting money from a Supreme gun. The camera zooms out almost to show you that this is the mogul’s whole rap empire they are looking over, all of their kids in one place (this empire already includes some chaos in the background). It’s subtle but hilarious, Gambino puts fricken chickens on the ground where the kids are filming the rap video. He is directly calling all of these rappers complete chickens for playing up this lifestyle and being the cause of so much chaos rather than coming out and telling somebody what’s really going on. Trying to get their money over everything else.
[Refrain: Choir & Childish Gambino]
Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh, tell somebody
You go tell somebody
Grandma told me
Get your money, Black man (Get your— Black man)
This is where things start to get interesting. Gambino is literally saying, go tell somebody about this! We all know what’s happening, why don’t you go let people know how bad it is? But like Jaguar Wright said, who do you tell when these moguls have the cops and feds paid off? This video is literally Gambino putting it all out there in this extremely popular song for everyone to see but yet we still just see the dancing and the violent chaos of people and police in the streets and not the root cause that is hidden in plain sight.
The vast majority of those who reviewed this video until now think this scene represents the tragic church shooting in Charleston in 2015. I think it does, but we also have to look at this from an angle of compression.
The people in the choir are all of the people who are currently singing the rap mogul’s praises and who are focused on going and getting what’s owed to them, get their money (who are also profiting off of the dead fellows music since it goes back to the original tune). You can see that each choir member has a distinct look to them. Think about who you are hearing about now who is about to be implicated in these freak offs and evil deeds. Is that Will Smith in the back left corner!? The short bald fellow in the front left maybe Kevin Hart? Rick Ross or TD Jakes maybe the bigger guy towards the back right? When the camera zooms in on the choir right at first to show their faces, doesn’t the guy in the bottom middle look like an uncanny version of Jordan Peele? Or is that meant to be Cuba Gooding Jr? Then just like the guitar fellow at the beginning, bang. You may be singing Diddy’s praises now, but he will cut you down whenever he suddenly feels like it.
I think almost for sure this initial section of the music video is Gambino acting as Diddy, because right after he shoots the choir, he does the elbow pump/chicken dance. At 3:14 in Diddy’s video for P.E. 2000 he does the chicken dance (he is up first in the video and I think Gambino is trying to say here I first present to you the first public enemy of 3 in this song). That elbow dance signals that it was Diddy and this is the end of his section.
[Chorus: Childish Gambino, Young Thug, Slim Jxmmi & Quavo]
This is America (Woo, ayy)
Don't catch you slippin' now (Woo, woo, don't catch you slippin' now)
Don't catch you slippin' now (Ayy, woah)
Look what I'm whippin' now (Slime!)
There have been many accounts of celebrities being given fancy cars after suffering abuse at the hands of these moguls. So these lyrics are saying that you better not slip up and tell people what’s really going on. And if you don’t look at this sweet carecord deal/movie contract I am going to give you. Beiber told this story about Diddy wanting to give him a luxury car.
Now suddenly, the dance switches from the chicken dance to a sudden bicep flex to signal us that we have now moved on from Gambino representing Diddy to our next mogul.
[Verse 2: Childish Gambino, Quavo, Young Thug, 21 Savage & BlocBoy JB]
This next chunk of the video is all about Jay-Z. I think this is the case because he throws his arms up in a bicep flex just like Jay does in the Otis music video at 2:38. And it makes sense Gambino would pick a dance move from a video with a huge American flag in the background to fit the ‘This is America’ theme. Gambino is mocking him saying, who are you really, the pretty guy or this hard gangster like Gambino shows in his dancing. Also right before they pan to the kids on the balcony, Bino also does Jay-Z’s signature lip curl look a couple times so we know it’s him and to signal the end of his section.
Look how I'm geekin' out (Hey)
I'm so fitted (I'm so fitted, woo)
Jay-Z is famous for making the fitted Yankees cap famous, it’s his signature look. More signs this verse is about Jay.
I'm on Gucci (I'm on Gucci)
Jay-Z has been seen in full wallpaper Gucci sweat suits but could also be referring to Gucci Mane who he hung out with at Beyonce’s tour around the time this song was released.
I'm so pretty (Yeah, yeah, woo)
I'm gon' get it (Ayy, I'm gon' get it)
Watch me move (Blaow)
These lines are probably referring to Jay-Z having a hidden preference for men, especially with the way Gambino flicks his wrist in the video when he says I’m so pretty.
This a celly (Ha)
That's a tool (Yeah)
On my Kodak (Woo) Black
I think that “this a celly, that’s a tool” harkens back to 2Pac’s lyrics in Changes where he sings, “They get jealous when they see ya with your mobile phone” then shortly after that he sings about the sound of his tool, referring to shooting a gun. But Childish flips these lyrics on their head. He is saying that it’s really the phone that’s a tool to be using, not a gun. And pans up and shows (the school kids specifically) on the balcony filming everything going on below. He’s telling the kids/other rappers, use your phone as a tool, you can record these bad deeds when you get blackmailed into being at the freak off. That’s how you can kill them and their career, not with a gun. Go tell somebody! There is also the reference to Kodak which plays into the picture taking theme, but also because Kodak Black has been accused of assaulting a teenage girl in a hotel room. So we have a good idea of what Gambino suggests all the kids start filming and collecting evidence of.
Ooh, know that (Yeah, know that, hold on)
Get it (Woo, get it, get it)
Ooh, work it (21)
Now we are onto Drake’s part. In the video Gambino starts doing the BlocBoy JB dance called Shoot. Drake is known for doing these little viral dance moves like in Hotline Bling. But not only that, this dance is also used in the song that both BlocBoy JB and Drake collaborate on for their video Look Alive. It starts at 2:07 in the Look Alive video. So this is Drake’s dance to signal his part is now starting.
Note this is where the pale horse rides by also potentially saying that Drake is one of the horsemen of the apocalypse. Interestingly, Drake’s collab with BlocBoy JB was pretty much the apocalypse for BlocBoy’s career, who hasn’t had a hit since.
Hunnid bands, hunnid bands, hunnid bands (Hunnid bands)
Contraband, contraband, contraband (Contraband)
I got the plug in Oaxaca (Woah)
They gonna find you like "blocka" (Blaow)
Again, we know this is Drake’s section because his song 10 bands starts out by saying “10 bands, 50 bands, 100 bands” almost identical to Bino’s lyrics here. Also Blocka was famously used by Biggie in his song Gimme the Loot which could be referring to Biggie's demise like Pac’s and making money from his death. Everything in this industry originates from pushing drugs, which has been alleged through the trafficking that Diddy, Jay-Z and Drake do through their private jets likely connected to their bosses, the Clive Davises and Lucian Grainges of the world. This escalates rap beefs and the whole culture to the next level where murder is often a consequence for young rappers in their prime when international drug lord money is involved.
An interesting point is this is the only time where Childish was about to shoot someone in the video, but where he didn’t have a school kid either handing him the gun or taking it away carefully from him. (Maybe also a diss at Drake that even though he acts hard he doesn’t shoot, he gets his horseman of the apocalypse to do his dirty deeds for him instead perhaps?). This is the beginning of the end for the rap mogul as he no longer has his kids doing his bidding for him. A simple message to show how the violence can be stopped, that these shootings can end when the kids stop enabling them. So then as soon as he can’t react in that moment and shoot someone his anger is forced to chill out, as shown by smoking a J, and to go back to exploiting the dead man’s music instead. If you don’t put a gun in someone’s hand when they are heated, those feelings too shall pass - kinda feel.
[Refrain: Choir, Childish Gambino, & Young Thug]
Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh, tell somebody
America, I just checked my following list, and
You mothafuckas owe me
Whose voice does that sound like!? It sounds a lot like Diddy to me, public enemy #1. This is basically saying that the moguls are the ones who we all owe it to for all of this glorified gun violence in America. That we owe them way more follows and likes for what a massive influence they have had on the violence and chaos we see in America today.
Grandma told me
Get your money, Black man (Black man)
(1, 2, 3—get down)
In Moneybagg Yo’s song 1, 2, 3, he also has a line that says “1, 2, 3, let’s go!” in a similar vein.
But something interesting I came across was Nas’s song Get Down where they use a sample from James Brown's “The Boss” that sounds extremely similar to the way Gambino screams “Get Down!” Which would fit well if the guitar singer from the beginning is meant to be Nas and Pac doing Thugz Mansion.
Also make sure you check out Nas’s song Get Down so that you can hear how much Jay-Z outright copied this song for The Story of OJ. From the musical structure with the piano and interwoven samples right down to the theme reiterated by the sample at the end of Nas’s song: “If that’s how our people are gonna get down, how are we ever gonna get up?”
SZA
Finally to wrap up the video, I have been stumped for a long time as to why SZA is randomly at the end of this video sitting on one of the cars. But I think I finally know why and it reconfirms that this last scene is all about Drake. If you watch Drake’s music video for Worst Behavior (not very Canadian of him to spell behaviour that way I might add) you will see Drake rapping and dancing with a few cars surrounding him and one of those cars has other rappers making cameos in it. In Gambino’s video SZA represents that car with a famous cameo. I think this is further confirmed when the black edges of the video start closing inwards at the end of This is America, the exact same way that Worst Behavior ends. So why SZA as the cameo then? Cause it reminds people that Drake is a p*do.
This is from an article in the Rolling Stone: In 2020, Drake revealed publicly that he and SZA had dated over a decade ago, well before she was an established artist (her earliest music goes back to around 2012; her critical breakthrough, Ctrl, came in 2017). On 21 Savage’s “Mr. Right Now,” Drake rapped about a newer fling who was a fan of SZA’s: “Yeah, said she wanna fuck to some SZA, wait / ‘Cause I used to date SZA back in ’08 / If you cool with it, baby, she can still play.” A few days later, SZA responded, corroborating Drake’s claim with a slight correction: they dated in 2009, when both would have been over 18. Since SZA would not have turned 18 until late 2008, she wanted to set the record straight. “in this case a year of poetic rap license mattered 🥴lol I think he jus innocently rhymed 08 w wait [sic],” she tweeted. “I just didn’t want anybody thinking anything underage or creepy was happening . Completely innocent . Lifetimes ago . [sic]”
If you have to specifically say something isn’t creepy and distance yourself from it being lifetimes ago, it usually is creepy. Drake would’ve been 22 when she was 17. Metro Boomin also happens to be on the Mr. Right Now track. He is currently in trouble for resurfaced old tweets showing how Metro used to tweet disgusting things about what he wanted to do to underage girls. Interestingly, Metro Boomin is also now beefing with Drake.
Drake doing his dance on the car of the original musician’s music seems to be accusing Drake directly of stealing 2Pac’s music. Orlando Brown recently said the cryptic statement that “Drake is Pac” which likely means he stole 2Pac’s approach/style/audience after his death. Gambino did some good foreshadowing here too with the recent AI release Drake put out of 2Pac.
This dance scene also signals that the Drake section is now over.
[Outro: Young Thug]
You just a black man in this world
You just a barcode, ayy
You just a black man in this world
Drivin' expensive foreigns, ayy
You just a big dawg, yeah
I kenneled him in the backyard
No, probably ain't life to a dog
For a big dog
The outro lyrics speak to how these gatekeepers keep black men down and control them with things like being forced to wear a dress to become famous or to submit to homosexual/p*do acts.. In the video, as I mentioned above, the black edges close in on Drake’s dancing scene in This is America. But they don’t completely close and end things like they do in the Worst Behavior video. Instead, in Gambino’s video, the camera pans to show the mogul running for his life with Young Thug’s lyrics almost like a quiet echo in the background. He isn’t running from the cops though, he’s running from the kids and from the public. When I mentioned earlier that the kids not handing over the last gun before Drake’s scene signalled the beginning of the end for the moguls, this is that conclusion. Where it is showing that if all the kids come together to stop enabling and rather expose the moguls, people will be chasing these bastards down once we realize what has been going on behind the curtain. Then the song that Young Thug is singing can just be a quiet echo of the way things were in the past.
If you don’t think Gambino would be this deep and that I went too far down the rabbit hole, do a Google search on the calculations that he came up with for why he sings about loving until 3005 in his song. He seems to go real deep with his lyrics. So a big question this leaves us with is, what did Childish Gambino witness in the rap industry? His whole rap career plays out like he is trying to avoid industry norms.
Even in Sweatpants, he has lyrics like:
No hands like soccer teams and y'all fuck boys like Socrates
You niggas ain't coppin' these, niggas ain't lookin' like me (Nah)
Nah, I ain't checkin' I.D. (Nah), but I bounce 'em with no problem
Seems like he is trying to make it really clear across his catalogue of music that he isn’t a p*do but that other rappers are. Where he is saying that he doesn’t need to ID his potential partners because he can tell they are obviously too young and that’s not hard to do.
Tell 'em, Problem (Problem!)
I'm winnin', yeah, yeah, I'm winnin' (What?)...
Rich kid, asshole, paint me as a villain
So who was trying to paint him as a villain, Drake? And that’s why the diss was originally meant for him?
Don't be mad 'cause I'm doing me better than you doing you…
Better than you doing you
Fuck it, what you gon' do? (What?!)
He’s taunting the other rappers cause he knows they can’t say shit if they are creeps. He has the same sentiment in Bonfire “It’s a bonfire, turn the lights out, I’m burning everything you mother fuckers talk about.”
Childish Gambino has always refrained from talking about the meaning of This is America whenever he is asked, and I can only assume that all of this is why.
Little Foot Big Foot
Now with his new release, Little Foot Big Foot and applying cultural compression to it, it has me wondering if he is referring to Megan Thee Stallion and the Nicki beef? People like Nicki (calling Megan Big Foot) have been claiming for some time she wasn’t even shot in the foot by Tory Lanez. There were many people laughing and making fun of Megan over getting shot. Which could be an interesting story for Childish to tell to represent how crazy this violent culture has gotten that people just laugh and blame the victim now when you get shot. Also a good metaphor for things like ‘shooting yourself in the foot’ for not having a lawyer look over potentially predatory industry contracts like in the beginning of his video. That you want to get in the cool kids club so bad you overlook it. Not as sure on this one though since the song just came out and I have only heard it a few times.
One last thing that is really interesting, there have been tons of artists on podcasts like Shay Shay talking about the strings these ultra rich moguls can pull. Like buying awards or gatekeeping people from being in the industry at all. There was even a story, I think maybe it was Gene Deal who told it, that when Killer Mike won at the grammys that Jay-Z was so angry he made sure to mess up his night by getting him locked up as soon as he left the awards stage. These moguls are extremely powerful and have an incredible amount of sway in the world/industry. If you check out Gambino’s profile on Youtube, his old music videos keep getting taken down, like Bonfire for example is just gone. Fans have been having to upload the videos themselves. There is a reply to a comment, on one of the fan uploaded vids, from Gambino’s account himself when someone asks why the videos are being taken down. His account just replies “Noone knows why :(“ Seems a bit odd all things considered and like maybe he has been at the mercy of these gatekeepers for going against the system.
I am so curious to know what the rest of you think about all of this!

I know the video was taken down but I had to go back and watch it. I’m glad I did because their attack on this sub is a litany of the reasons why transsexual people need this sub. Delete this is it’s not allowed.
(*it’s not actually violent but that’s the language this lot use when someone tries to tell them anything, so I’m reclaiming it)
It begins by defining truscum as “queer” people. They either don’t’t know or don’t care that a lot of us are uncomfortable with and/or completely reject the label. They continue on with that, repeatedly demanding that people who identify as truscum are part of “one community.” The cis woman, who has absolutely no business commenting on this at all, keeps referring to “the trans community” as if (a) she knows shit about it and (b) it is a monolith.
The cis woman (who should mind her own business) then says that everyone who transitions will go through the stages of transition which are mocked in this sub. Sorry? What? I did not have a fetishizing womanhood phase, or catgirl phase, or endless anime dress-up phase, or a use my pronouns despite my beard phase.
The trans guy (?) says the history of transness is “without the binary.” Thanks, appreciate you explaining why we need a sub where binary trans people are not erased as part of queer gender fuckery. Cis LGB people, particularly cis academic LGB people, love to use trans people as their illustrations of gender fuckery, but first they need to erase transsexual people who just want to transition and live as a binary man or woman.
Dude (?) literally calls us part of a “hateful and harmful binary.” This is exactly why people like me want to GTFO of transness. Fuck you, dude. He says we are “adopting” this binary viewpoint, as if there have not been binary trans people who know we are transsexual throughout history.
Cis woman continues to comment as if she has any idea. She clearly thinks transness is a way of being queer that one can decide to feel and be.
Summary: I am not queer. I am not part of a “trans community.” I am absolutely part of the binary of male and female and that was decided before birth, not as part of whatever cis brainwashing these clowns wish to imagine.
This sub is no where near as toxic as the video.

Hi animal nutritionist here!
Lets chat about corn
Corn as an ingredient is a hot button topic. But why? the short answer is because its cheap. But does being cheap mean its bad? Not necessarily. Corn is a grass. So its abundant and grows extremely fast. This makes it inherently cheaper than the same amount of meat.
But then why do so many people believe corn is bad? Thats a little more convoluted...
The main reason is marketing. in the 70s and 80s corn was used as a filler to cut corners. Companies marketing food as beef or chicken would then turn around and use corn as a filler knowing that the average consumer does not actually read the labels. When this practice was finally brought to light the antithesis to this was the "meat first" mantra. The thought being that if we all pay more attention to the labels and understand FDA regulations we can weed out the companies doing such shady practice. This forced many companies to use better and higher quality ingredients. Of course this also made food more expensive.
Corn as a nutrient, when compared to beef, has much higher levels of polysatuated fats such as omega-3. It also has a broader profile of amino acids. But, even with a broad profile, corn still has little protein, virtually no calcium or phosphorus, and very little iron, and Vitamin B. Which Beef will have in plenty.
So is corn bad for pets?
As an ingredient a part of a complete diet, No.
Should it be the main ingredient in an animals diet?
Debatable... So lets discuss!

Love this! This flavor tastes exactly like summer. It's that big, warm berry pie with a scoop of vanilla ice cream you eat at the end of a Fourth of July picnic and get blue mush all over your face. And I mean it tastes so exactly like that I'm mildly concerned I may pull a Violet Beauregard upon finishing the tub. One thing I marveled at while tasting this was that the cobbler taste was totally separate from the ice cream taste. I mean if I took one bite of the vanilla, it only tastes like vanilla z but if I ate a purple part, it was pie. Incredible flavor experience for this mouth. I basically got to choose my crisp::ice cream ratio with every bite.
I was pleasantly surprised surprised by the jam because I was afraid it would be too much like, well, jam, but it's definitely more of a compote. I almost wish they wouldn't use "jam" on the label. However, Dean and Deluca used to make a blueberry jam that reminds me very much of this flavor, so maybe, just maybe, the experts know what they're doing.
The streusel was not very cinnamony, and that was a good thing because it didn't need to be. Too much cinnamon would have overpowered the delicious fruit taste, and Jeni's kept the blend intact. My one suggestion about the oats would be to add a little bit of cinnamon applesauce to them while they're being prepared, because that'd enhance the moisture and flavor without dramatically altering it. The streusel was good but the texture of the oats was a little gelatinous while simultaneously being dry. Like if beef jerky was left by a hot shower.
Overall, love, and definitely will be buying this again!

Hello those wiser than me in the ways of electricity!
TL;DR: I'd like to add a toggle switch to my lawn tractor and am seeking guidance, please advise me!
The long version: I'm having some kind of persistent electrical issue with my lawn tractor that can basically be summed up with my battery keeps dying. I am but a humble carpenter and am not familiar with electrical or small engines so instead of trying to figure out what keeps draining my battery it seems to me like a simpler and quicker solution would be to add a killswitch between the battery and everything else I can just toggle off when it's not in use. The trouble is that I'm having a hard time figuring out what's sufficient. The wires that connect to the battery seem to be 10 Guage braided wire so I assume I'll need parts that are rated for 10 guage but when I search 10 Guage toggle switch or look at them in a store the connections seem tiny, way too small for the wires or connectors, even ones labeled "heavy duty". I don't even know how to find out what appropriate, am I looking for a certain amp rating? Voltage rating? I don't want to blow the thing up or hurt myself so any advice is helpful. I am reasonably handy and confident in my ability to add the switch, I'm just a loss for what I need for materials. Thanks in advanced!

Can someone explain to me how the aspect of persephone on the skulls work?
I see the little circle fill up at the bottom, but only slightly no matter how much damage I do/how far in the run I am. I noticed the special charging longer, but I don't understand the "firing continuously" part of the description.

It’s seeming like we might be getting what was promised last year in the Tribute store… Considering how it was also labeled as “Part 1” I think we may be getting more than just a house this year
From what I remember from the tribute comic, the statue is a key of sorts. Seeing how the reflection depicts a different dimension or possibly hell, this could very well be where it leads
There’s also the location to factor in, being so close and tied into the lore of sting alley and the adjacent street being featured in the Case Files house from HHN 30 as well
I cannot take complete credit for this though. From reading and replying on this subreddit this is just what I gather and speculate. What do you all think?

Some people ask me to show a little bit more details of how the game mechanics work so here we go. The "core" of the game is the battle board. It's basically shows the parameters of your bro and it's the part you'll interact with the most. There are two wooden chests with number wheels. The upper one (orange box) shows the attributes. To make it playable and not to complex I reduced it to hit points (left) armor (middle) and melee /ranged skill (right). The attributes are determined by character cards you need to buy from the market (see second pic/ I needed to use images from pinterest but will replace them later on). Below the chest you can see 9 skull in groups of 3 (green box). For each kill the bro can choose a sword (see red box) which can be used to upgrade the attributes. You have to start from the left to the right. For every complete group of 3 skulls you can choose one perk (in form of tile) starting with a tier one perk (left) up to a tier three perk on the left. The chest on the bottom (blue box) shows the values of the equipment of your bro. Helmet (left), armor (middle) and shield (right). I will also make cards for these items similar to the character cards. So a fully equipped bro consists of up to four cards. I hope I was able to explain in a clear way but feel free to share your opinion or ideas. If you like I will post more details of other elements like the market or general gameplay.

I’ve been friends with this person for half of my life- a long time! And have always had a difficult time with their boundaries. He has always been very self centred, loud and thoughtless, but these traits have previously been forgiven because of how much fun we had.
Recently, within the last year, he has paid to get an ADHD diagnosis. Whilst I’m supportive of him getting help to manage his way in the world, I have struggled to cope within our friendship. He has always been extremely late to things, will shout over others to be heard, won’t compromise with others if the plan isn’t what he wants to do, will tell the same stories over and over again dominating any conversation and imposes specific interests on our large group of friends (who are very patient and accommodating).
Since the ADHD diagnosis, therapy and medication, I assumed that our friendship might get easier, but this unfortunately hasn’t been the case. Instead, the vast majority of conversations are now about ADHD so much so, that’s it is the dominant part of his personality. Everything is now about why his brain cannot allow him to be on time or join in with the group respectfully, he will not ask about others, or allow the group to do activities (hikes, games, going out to dinner or bars) without being disruptive or having a meltdown down due to not doing what he wants. One of the biggest issues is that he sometimes feels left out because of spending so much time on his phone or shouting over everyone else’s conversations that he misses things and then feels like he doesn’t know what is going on.
We recently went on a euro trip together for a friends birthday and for the first time it just felt unbearable. Everyone was really respectful and thoughtful but he was still really difficult to be around, and if it weren’t for the ADHD label, it would be considered extremely rude. Usually I can brush it off as we’ve been friends for so long but I just dont have any fun with him at all anymore. I came home and just cried and had to take a day off work as I had complete burnout from being around them.
I wonder if I should continue to try and be supportive as it’s early days in his ADHD diagnosis or whether for my own heath, to try and put some distance between us for a while and maybe in the future he’ll attempt to be more thoughtful, in spite of thinking a little differenty to neurotypicals.

Hi /eBay
This past week I purchased a game console listed, and shown, in better condition than it arrived. At some point it was damaged before getting to me. Seller thinks I damaged it, but if you saw the way it was packaged (it was put in a box at an angle, putting a lot of weight on the part damaged- it could not be laid on its side or stood up straight due to box dimensions) it would likely lead you to believe the packaging was the problem.
I submitted a return request providing a brief run down of the situation as well as pictures of the damage, eBay automatically approved. Again, the seller again thinks I damaged it so they tell me they're in contact with eBay and will be working with them for what I assume is to shut the request down. However, I just received an email containing the return label and saying that I'll receive a refund within 3 days of its delivery. No other contact from eBay or the seller since this has happened.
Should I send the item or should I wait to see if I hear anything from eBay and/or the seller? Is it possible the return is shut down while the package is in transit back to the seller? Essentially, I'm not trying to be down both the item and the money I spent for it.

So I have this script. It's located in game.StarterGui.Timer.TextLabel.Script
I want it to create a countdown timer that starts at a random number ranging from 5-20, but will stop (and the countdown TextLabel will change to "Timer.IsDestroyed" before disappearing) when a part is destroyed. If the player doesn't destroy the part before the countdown hits 0, then the countdown text changes to "HTTP ERROR 401" and the player gets kicked out. At the moment I don't think I'll need them again so I don't mind if the script calls for anything to be destroyed. I am VERY new to coding and have no experience I just use tutorials and combine certain pieces together to make this script below.
local time = math.random(5, 20)
local event = game.ReplicatedStorage.Kicker
local yeah = game.StarterGui.Timer.TextLabel
local timer = game.StarterGui.Timer
local part = game.Workspace.TimerStop
for i = 1, math.random(5, 20) do -- change 15 to any number (time)
wait(1)
time = time - 1
script.Parent.Text = tostring(time)
end
if event.IsDestroyed then
yeah.Text = "Timer.IsDestroyed"
yeah.Visible=false
else if time == 0 then
script.Parent.Text = "HTTP ERROR 401"
wait(2)
game.ReplicatedStorage.Kicker:FireClient()
end
end
where the script i pasted above is located
Then, I have another script in another location. Ignore all the unused variables I was messing with a bunch of stuff, but if you see that some can be used, let me know.
local part =script.Parent
local timerscript = game.StarterGui.Timer.TextLabel.Script
local kickscript = game.StarterGui.Timer.KickSc
local yeah = game.StarterGui.Timer.TextLabel
local event = game.ReplicatedStorage.Kicker
local timer = game.StarterGui.Timer
local timertext = timer.TextLabel
part.Touched:Connect(function()
wait(.5)
part.Glitch:Play()
part:Destroy()
wait(.5)
event:Destroy()
end)
located in game.Workspace.TimerStop
If anyone can give any help or tips, please let me know in DMs or in comments, it would be very much appreciated. :) I've been struggling with these scripts (specifically the first one) for the past 2 days.
EDIT: I completely forgot to include what was going wrong with the script. So with the scripts I have now, the timer goes down but stops at a random number like 5,3, or sometimes even a negative number. Also, it doesn't kick you out when the timer reaches 0, it just pauses at a random number. The sounds work, the timer going down (kinda) works, but it just freezes and won't kick you nor show the text I want it to say if you destroy the part needed to stop the timer. If you have any questions let me know!