I’m not coming from a boomer “internet bad” perspective because i’m gen z and was raised on the internet. i’m talking about the current movement towards all the apps just being algorithms, “for you” timelines, even YOUTUBE, pushing what THEY want to push in front of you instead of what you actually follow and want to see, just completely disregarding our personal input in what we’d like to have in front of our faces. It is all becoming a brainrot stew of clickbait, constant & relentless “content”, forced discourse, rage bait etc, and I don’t blame the people who make these videos, because with the way algorithms have taken over, it forces you to if you want to use social media to make anything out of your business or career or passion. You don’t see the things you even want to see anymore which was bare minimum for social media at the start, and what I miss. And you can forget about chronological order. Even besides content creation, say, if I were to announce a local event, or that I got engaged, 10% of my followers will even see it, and they will see it three weeks from now. WTF? I realllyyyy wish it would go back, but I don’t think it ever will.

Sorry if this question was asked many times before, I keep finding so much conflicting information that I'm not sure what's right and what's not.
I bought my first road bike (Triban RC520) in September of 2023 and rode about 1,400 km on it. I am planning to take part in my first "official" event this summer, as well as go for some longer rides, so I want to ensure that my bike is in a good condition and something won't just randomly break when I'm in the middle of nowhere hours and hours from home.
I'm currently hesitating between going to a bike shop and paying them probably over £100 for this (this is just my guess, I didn't actually ask them yet), or doing it myself.
Here's what I know is currently wrong with the bike:

1. Braking is not as strong as it used to be (the pads are not visibly worn out though, there's at least 2-3 mm of material on top of the metal plates)
   
2. There's some rattling and creaking coming from (presumably) the front at random times, but often when riding quickly and out of saddle
   
3. The chain and the whole drivetrain needs some good cleaning after an unsuccessful attempt of using a wax-based lube, which turned into a sticky black paste.
   
4. Something that I haven't noticed, but is likely to be worn out and should be checked??
   

With this list of problems, is it worth for me to try to fix it all myself, or is it better to take it to a bike shop? Also, if I'm going to be fixing it myself, what sort of tools would I need? I have a basic set of home DIY tools and a bike multitool, but nothing more sophisticated. Thanks.

Now that Krakoa is ending i thought id get into the X-Men in full as I know almost nothing abt them past their movies. I constantly heard praise for Hickman's X-Men but never felt the drive to start it. But now that it’s ending I feel it might be time as im not a fan of reading monthly. However I feel like skipping to it without first knowing the basics of their comics is cheating.
I’m currently 4 issues away from finishing Grant Morrison's New X-Men and I’m hoping to figure out what is the best reading order for what came in between to fast track me to Hickman. I heard good things abt Astonishing X-Men so that might be next for me. I’m also interested in Cyclops’s "Revolutionary Era" and wanna know more abt him. Laura Kinney too. And preferably stuff from New X-Men onwards, but if anyone were to recommend pre 21st century stuff i'll add it to my to read list
So I'd greatly appreciate anyone that can help me pick and choose the best runs, minis and events to read before tackling on the Krakoan era :)

I wanted to ask here before I went to a professional because I know I am having issues, but it revolves around food and I can't seem to find any information on what I specifically have. I'm female, 5'2, and currently range from 122 lbs as my lowest every month to 136 when I'm on my period, but the weight instantly goes away. I am at a good weight for my height, slightly increasing towards being overweight, but my fat is distributed pretty well so I have zero body image issues. My problem is that although I do not worry about my weight, I refuse to eat. This current guy I'm seeing noticed that I only seem to eat when I'm with him and it's not every single time we hang out either. I'll eat once every few days, and it's usually in tiny portions/small meals. I can't buy groceries without letting fruits and vegetables rot, meat sitting in the freezer for weeks, and even having cranberry juice somehow ferment in my kitchen cabinets. Until about two weeks ago, I noticed bad breath which is something I never dealt with in my entire life, a lot of brain fog, dry mouth, and an increased amount of sleepiness. I've looked up these symptoms and it all leads to ketosis. But whenever I look up anything on ED's, it always revolves around anorexia, bulimia, or a third one I cannot remember but I know I don't have the exact "qualifications" for any of them. I am still at an average weight for my height with no negative image of my body, yet I refuse to eat anything. Could it be that I am refusing to acknowledge a negative body image in some way? Or is something else preventing me from eating? I started doing activities like rock climbing and have felt some weakness in my arms increase every time I go which seems to be another sign of ketosis. Is it really an eating disorder, or could something possibly be causing me to refuse food? I'm not looking for any medical advice on here, I want to hear your opinions and if it really is an eating disorder of some sort, and possibly any recommendations of online doctors or professionals you know of that I can possibly talk to in order to get a real diagnosis. Thank you!

Due to a series of unfortunate events I needed to filed for bankruptcy (Chapter 13) almost a year ago. I am making payments each month and in a much better place financially. I am into year 1 of 3 of this bankruptcy.
Left the industry after being (Layoff) from a client service associate. Trying to get back to the industry now and wondering which jobs/companies are more flexible with not so good credit.
Currently working for the government in a federal job, but I love the markets and hoping I can come back.
Should I be targeting operations type of role? I guess roles that are not client facing are easier to get into?

I just moved to NYC in February after my wife landed a new role as an HR Manager in Manhattan. It's been a dream for both of us to move to Brooklyn for a while, but this wasn't the most ideal situation. She was laid off last year ($96k total comp) and so was I, but she found work and so we made the move. I was laid off last year making $83k total comp in Houston, TX and I managed to snag a consulting role for a small petroleum company ($50k), and got laid off shortly after by them too after they ran into some major accounting issues and laid off all new hires (HR, sales, marketing). I haven’t been able to land a new job in 8 months. We had a lifestyle built around us making $150k+ and since then we've moved out, sold half our belongings, gotten rid of all of our cars, downsized considerably, but also racked up credit card debt managing health costs without insurance and moving costs to get to NY.
I'm currently working part-time at an app development agency as a Content Marketing Associate in midtown Manhattan, but it's hardly enough to keep up with the cost of living in NYC and I can't lay the full responsibility of taking care of the household at my wife's feet, especially as we have more 2 family members moving in with us next month to finish college in NY. They'll be able to support themselves, so I'm not worried about paying for them - it's just a lot of responsibility that would be better managed if I had a full-time job.
I’ve done product marketing, social media, SEO, sales enablement, content creation and management, video production, and been in B2B SaaS, retail B2C, ERP, and app development since my first internship. Everyone I pass my resume to says it’s one of the best they’ve seen for my level of experience, including a graduate marketing professor from the University of Vermont. I have photography, graphics, video and marketing samples to provide every employer, yet … nothing.
I see ALOT of roles on LinkedIn and ZipRecruiter posting for $45-$60k and I do wonder how that’s enough for experienced applicants with 3-6 years of experience working in Manhattan, even if you lived way out in Queens bc it is NOT cheap. I apply anyways, beggers can't be choosers. But at the same time, are people really getting hired in NYC right now for marketing roles? I was told to shoot for $90-$130k for my level of experience. Alot of my friends are actually earning about $120k with some earning over $200k working as PMs and PMMs, without MBAs.
But I have been getting ghosted or outright rejected and I’ve applied to nearly 800 positions now (since last June). Initially, I was spamming applications, but then I decided to really hone in and just focus on what I'm good at and that's product and content marketing. Nearly 60 or so of my applications have been referrals so my network is pretty used up too. I've also been to maybe 10-12 tech and marketing networking events since getting here, even hanging out around NYU and Columbia's MBA students to see if they could refer me to any contacts they had from their previous roles. My network grew but nobody is actually hiring marketers.
Right now anything over $50k would help my family out with bills, even if it’s not the going rate for the city. But I’m surprised at how many people are suggesting that marketers should shoot for higher in NYC given my experience. I'll admit, I didn't enter into product marketing thinking I'd be making less than 6 figures by the time I was 5 years in but with COVID, inflation, all the stupid short-term contract roles and layoffs, yada yada yada; I'm not being picky. I just want to work for a good company, use my skillset, and provide for my family. I’m working part time as a content marketing associate for an app development agency so I’m keeping my resume up to date but it’s like an intern’s pay and like I said I’m coming up on 5 years of total experience; this current role isn't the most stimulating for me either. What can I do differently?
Also, here's my resume - destroy me or tell me what I can improve. Any help would be seriously appreciated. If anyone's in the NYC area and wants to meet up for a coffee or bagel, I'm so down at this point. I just need some help getting my foot in the door. Reddit has saved my ass a ton in the past, hoping I can find some answers here again! Thank you!!!
TLDR - I'm in NYC, working part time, with 4-5 years marketing experience, can't land a job, need some pointers. Thanks!
https://preview.redd.it/fjpjkmtain0d1.jpg?width=1700&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=9bb6426610ef39f28ad167723269280aa96b6d84

Ok so immediately I think the title would, in most circumstances, probably make it seem like I’m overreacting, but there’s a lot of context here that makes me unsure. I haven’t confronted my friends with this yet and I don’t know if I should
So my friend group consists of about 10 people including me, and for the entirety of our friendship I have been very open about my feelings towards smoking.
I don’t like to talk about it, I don’t want to be invited to smoke, I don’t want to be around it during or after its use. I hate it, and I have reasons for it.
For one, I was just raised not to do it, but I’ve also been lenient and have allowed people who do it to be in my life as long as they keep it separate from me. One of my earliest friends I had to cut off eventually for a multitude of reasons, but a big one was their complete disrespect towards my boundaries. They’d bring weed around me, smoke it around me, call me while high, and just generally treated me terribly, fully knowing my boundaries. I was already not a fan of it before that happened, but that event with my former friend made me certain.
My current friend group has always had a stoner in the group, but it was just one person, who I’ll refer to as A from here. I've always had mixed opinions on A, but credit where it is due, he has always been respectful of my boundaries, aside from showing up to hangouts high, which upset me, but I pushed through for the sake of my friend group.
Anyways, as time has passed, A has begun to invite my friends to go smoke with him. I recognize that I don't get a say in my friends lives, and they can make their own choices, but over time a total of 4 of 10 have started smoking with him on a regular basis, one of them being my best friend since 3rd grade, who should be well aware of what I think.
I could ignore it in the past, but as more and more of my friends start smoking, the harder it is for me to avoid it. I'll be in a room with them and they'll look to each other and I'll hear "Did you see A sent an invite to smoke at their house this weekend?".
I think today is the worst I've felt about it. We were in a group call. It was me, A, and two other friends, one of which have started smoking with A. The friend that started smoking, who I'll call C, says "Hey A, K(my gf) asked if we were still up to smoke this weekend. I was silent for around 10 minutes before I made some excuse and just left the call.
K and I have talked in the past about her smoking. She has said that she's wanted to, but wasn't sure because of my views on it. I told her that she can make her own choices because I'm her bf not her boss, but if I had a preference I wouldn’t want her to because it would make me uncomfortable. I told her if she was going to smoke then I didn’t want to know about it. She said she wouldn’t want to go behind my back. I told her if she was going to smoke she’d have to.
At this point, exactly half of my friend group has started smoking. It was one thing when it was just A, or when I had friends that smoked but weren’t in my core friend group, but now it’s half of my closest friends, one of which being my gf, and I just feel lost
I know it’s not my place to decide what people can and can’t do in their lives, but I feel really weird about half of my friends smoking now.
Sorry for writing so much, I’m in a very confusing place rn. AIO?

I have lived at this current rental for 14 months. It is an older cottage, and had minor issues they told me they were going to fix within a couple months of me moving in, as well as a leak in the main bedroom ( more major of an issue ) Since April of last year, they have not made one repair, and of course things have gotten much worse. I have requested 6-7 times in writing that I need them to complete the repairs. I get bullshit responses about how they will get to it, or they’ve contacted a company etc. The most recent major event was the spare bedroom floor collapsed. 1/4 of the flooring buckled down about 6 inches when I went to get something from in there ( I use the room for storage. ) I reported the floor collapsing over two weeks ago. It took almost 5 days for them to come by, at which time they insisted that it was my fault. Im at the point where it’s really fucking with my days. If I wasn’t before, I sure am now. What is my best option here? I have all correspondence between myself and the landlords, as well as photos from when I moved in, up until today.
Thank you for any sound advice.

The largest faceit org in north america will be holding a tryout event on on the 3rd of June for players of all levels. Priority currently has over 30 teams and is looking to expand! You can join the discord by searching priority-esports under the join tab or join the faceit hubs here: https://www.faceit.com/en/organizers/8fca6e81-d623-4166-84be-1215ee81229c/Priority%20Esports
https://steamcommunity.com/id/boundie/

Anyone that’s unfamiliar with my situation, I made a full recovery last summer after a year with long covid, and recently relapsed after a reinfecting & stressful life event in February. I’ve been slowly getting worse since and the current job I have as a grocery store worker has been accelerating my decline.
The past two weeks I’ve been Job hunting for jobs where I’m not walking like 15k+ steps a day or any heavy lifting and I finally got hired to be a teller at a bank and I’m so relieved. I don’t have the option to not work because if I lose my home, I have nowhere to go.
If anyone else is in my same situation, keep applying to these remote or minimal exertion jobs if you need income. I applied to over a hundred before this one took me in

TW: mention of domestic abuse
My boyfriend organised a birthday surprise for me and I found out early on by accident (literally the day after he started planning it) and confronted him about it. I made it clear to him when I first found out that I'd like him to cancel it due to a few reasons. I hate surprises and due to my abusive family, I do not like celebrating my birthday. As far as I can remember, I've never brought up wanting anything for my birthday. Everytime he asks me what I want for it, I say I want nothing. When he asks me how I've celebrated it in the past, I explain that I just go out for dinner with my mom and my closest friends treat me to a cup of tea. As I'm currently in a different country for uni, I can't have dinner with my mom/tea with my friends, so I was already planning to have a very long video call with them on the day as I have been super busy with exams and I miss them a lot.
I asked him to please cancel it and he said that they couldn't be undone. Every time he brought it up I kept asking him to please cancel it because I really did not want to celebrate it. Recently, he told me who he invited and I got very annoyed because 1) he did not cancel it 2) he didn't even know who my uni friends were. Other than the small circle of people I usually talk to, he invited their friends and assumed that I was friends with them because we were from the same country and that he had seen me talking to them before. I was so confused because I have never had anything more than superficial small talk with these people and I've never brought them up in conversation with him at all. I got annoyed with him and asked again to please cancel it. He got angry and asked me why I find spending a few hours with my friends so aversive and said that I didn't appreciate his efforts. He said he didn't expect me to be so inflexible and he was angry that I didn't want to give having a party a shot. I don't understand why I have to experience it before concluding that I do not like having birthday surprises. Events like these are not my scene at all. I've never gone to parties/clubs at all. I'm also very introverted and hate being in the center of attention. I started crying when we were arguing about this and he said 'Since you're so smart you think of a reason to get out of it' and then said he couldn't deal with me anymore and left. I was upset that he made it my fault and even though this has never been something I wanted in the first place and I don't think the plan was very complete at that point because according to him they hadn't even decided where to go.
He's a very extroverted person whereas I'm extremely introverted so, to me this seemed more like something he wanted to do for himself than for me. In the end, he told everyone that I was not going to be in town on the day, so was I the asshole for making him cancel his surprise for my birthday?
Thank you

Not shared, nor my shade; but something to be weaved; just as the measure of disappointment became it's own solution. But I talked my way through things forbidden, just to find myself blind in bed with those who are dead. Clumsy, but altogether natural of course, because it's consciousness what you refer in the description, yet that's what we don't get a lot about. See your deeds the way you are seen, and then return to a restless place: and the question in-between sheets will be why. Well, I just can't motivate myself to work without hot bitches staring. And that's the truth. Sad but True
— Hearfelt comment for an instagram witch.
Del desprecio a ese descarte, no he visto muchas cosas. Así se pasa una más para las cuentas, y aquí otro más para los versos, por qué aquí no hemos sido vistos. Cuánto más querría uno, que sino lo cuentas ni mucho menos piensas: << lo de este pibe que cosa más horrible>>, haciendo eso lamentable, por qué en decirlo nadie ha mentido. ¡Es horrible! Que cara es entonces la cuenta de lo que le sale a uno vivir sin más complejos; mejor seria cobrarmelo, para así saber que de algo ha valido. Bloqueame.
— Heartfelt comment for a random supermodel-to-be.
The Spirit of Fire
Flames begone, flames in spite: their warmth I felt - so I closed my fist until I could feel the warmth of my blood in my hand. And in dreams Fire came up to me and said: who am I? And I said unto him: you are bound to my bidding, thus your name misery will be. But fire wretched as he was, got closer and asked: and who are you?
And I said unto him that the blood of David ran through my veins, as I was his heir; for the mother of God claim me from death as a son. So Fire tried me, and figured it out.
You are son of woman —said Fire unto me— but as Fire acknowledged the name, I extended my left hand, and took Fire by the neck throwing him into the gound. — You are going to lace yourself to the right hand of the beast, and you'll keep him steady, so I can cleanly take him down. And Fire stayed down, and with his forehead kissing the ground asked unto me —why would the heir of David do so to earthly man?
And I said unto Fire that the beast from the abyss had left no mother for God, so I was to leave none of his body left for his head; as I was going to make it bleed until the end of the end of times.
The Spirit of Earth
Shapeless and without body, but keen within her many numbers, Earth came up to me in dreams, and said: who am I? And posessed in spirit as I was, I said unto her, that God had made her maiden again, and that she shall become the coins that Judas never received, which were to become the due payment of man and women for the body of Christ. Then I extended my right hand, and grabbed Earth by her hair —which descended deep into the abysses of hell— and cut it short so the demons of Lilith would no longer had her gripped by her back.
You are now a woman, and I'm going to rise you from the grounds. You'll lace yourself to the left hand of the beast, and keep it steady so with one shot I can cleanly take him down.
The Spirit of Air
A dream shaped by written words, whispered down for years by the currents of this Montain, and it's requiem witnessed but by a few — the end of dreams. But from where I standed at the peak, I called upon the distant currents that went down, and asked them: who am I?
And Air came unto me as bird, which had thousands of letters for feathers, and in the tongue of dead men answered.
"Somebody who only a few will remember by strange deeds; as the burden on your back, is a past tainted by impossible dreams. You were a lunatic giving new names to folk, and folk never bothered to remember —so your name must be freak, as you died in a forgotten shack some short time ago."
And as Air said these things upon me, I called Misery —as I had dubbed Fire — and told him to get inside my shot. The burden as Air had said, became lesser as i took the shot from my quiver. And I said upon Misery; that he was to set ablaze this arrow, as I was taking down the bird of Britain, and that I would do so, so God would give the deeds of Earth some better names.
The Lord is making a bridge between the empire of strength, and the last empire of men. Now by God's grace, I'm making the tongue of free men, the tongue of Spain. You will be eventually bound to my bidding, and if not me, it will be to the one I'm preceding; for I'm giving you twenty years to attone your wrongdoing. Alas, now because of your wretchedness, my shot on earthly men won't be clean, for his left leg won't stay steady.
Your old name was apathy, now I'm calling you Cisma, which in the tongue of dead men means schism. So now by the will of God lay unto the ground and say the words you've been teached. And as the arrow blazed forward, it's bending motion pierced the veil hiding the secret ladder of men. The bird of Britain catched on Fire, and it's hollering resounded throught the ladders of the mountain until the depths of the abyss. A column of air turned into fire, then violenty erupted from the vowels of the bird, and the wild fire spread as a storm from west to east all throughout the five kingdoms of men away from its own fiery wings, with a gift of misery and a few words to say.
"The name of your woman or the name of your man, will no longer explain their purpose to a man, a woman, or God. Charred words written by thunder will now be the new ladder of men — but until then, darkness upon thee."
The House of Water
I head into the coasts, and the beautiful beaches in-between, to find the stranger who burns images in the skin of men. He is the stranger, and has adopted the body of a monster, and he is one who cannot be understood, so he went on to only go out home in stunts, for the burdens in his heart have become too great to bear. Through terrible pains he has given all he once was for an identity, and as I pick up on his past, i found familiarity in the feelings of his heart. Oh dear friend how we found looking in sadness to ourselves, after doing same but with different means, carrying into our shoulders the loneliness of this world. As you have in-skin the garments of the strange doctrine that I preach — I shall congrate you, for you truly have fought the world entire, for my doctrine is the words of those who shall defeat the world entire.
I may not have your strangeness in-body, but I have it in these words, and in the true feelings of my heart. And I say in admiration that there's no higher form of art, philosophy or religion: than those who perform the highest thing they can give a name about.
Now even within solitude, and at odds with what old dead men call God, I see you and I found strength in you, as I can see you are within me, and in that, you are within everything as it should be - as is meant in everyone who does something that touches the heart of another man. I call this the kingdom of God. Yet blind men and women will wonder how can the kingdom of God possibly be within two outcasts such as you and me.
Upong giving my regards and waiting for response, I found my way into a bench. It was a warm afternoon, and the wind carried the water of the sea. The bird of Britain came about down from the wind of north, and layed on the bench were I was sitting.
The bird asked: why hast thou become this?
And I said back to bird, scorched he was and nearing death, that it was me someone who was supposed to give names, yet for years I couldn't figure out one for myself. Then on went to being given a name, Alas all the wrong ones. Did Adan gave himself a name? - I asked the bird back. And there was no response from bird. Then I continued.
A man has the essence of his soul retained by what he is seen doing. Yet I did things nobody saw, so my soul wasn't with God but with something just as ancient, and nonetheless unknown by men in its true nature — then Satan as the better known devil, came about and pushed me into a hole. It was my own doing. Yet the things I did, I thought were seen. But nonetheless what I did was without contemplation on a posible return. Just as somebody who prints an image on their own skin. It's permanent. This is the essence of a memory in the soul of the man who's seen by others. But in the familiarity of a man who picked every irreversible decision like the Alien, I find myself feeling sympathy, for the man is still not what he has been seen doing, he shall redeem himself by what he decides to turn himself into.
Is this a way of saying that you want to get yourself a tattoo? Get a new look? - the bird mockingly asked.
And I gave the scorched bird no answer.
Then the bird said unto me: what about your career as a prophet, uh? And the things you said about returning with substance? Do you actually think this is substance?
And i considered what the Bird said, then I negated with a movement of my own head. It is not i answered, but i find the memories of me not making sense unbearable. For those mean the memories of a fool, un pendejo, an insane person, or both. And I will always try to amend what I don't do well. But now I wish for only one thing, and it is to be remembered as someone who makes sense, and who out of that sense, made good upon the world. I don't expect anything in return for what I do now, as it is merely an outlet to keep me sane while I finish editing my work. It's clear I'm too incompetent to be a competent influencer. As for once, I don't care about influencing anyone into what I think; but to perform what I think it's important.
Then every proverbial student is free to take classes so as they see fit, and to interpret such classes as their comprehension gives them grasp of what it's said. In such regard, this is what I offer now, while I make the journey to Madrid. And the bird tilted it's head so as to observe me with his left eye, then after a long impasse, it made a loud and painful caw, and finally flew away. Soon after the bird flew, I looked upon the stars in the nascent night, and confessed to them, that it was the memories of who we were, what often stumps us into wrong beliefs of who we should be, maybe even wasting an entire lifetime retained by that which other people remembered us as being. But we are not the owners of our own names, the place we go, and our destiny. That's the biggest lie the western world of hollywood heros tell you, as in truth is collective agreement what determines what we look like doing and thus the meaning we should comfort to, recalling that names are practical mechanisms to remember the purpose of things, their meaning, and how their motion is described in the world.
But making the task of beating that collective belief, akin to the Nietzschean ideal of the camel turning into the lion, so as to transform it's spirit and become something else. But if it's the golden dragon of all the huamn values which judges you insane, will you be prepared to wrestle with the entire culture so as to have your way?
As I layed my eyes upon each star counting up to the number seventeen, I confessed of being scared of those beliefs, as revisiting the past, became a painful deed — and as I prepared to leave, I uttered one wish on the seventeenth point in the sky.
Lord please grant me strength, the way you have given my friend strenght.
2.
The night deepen, while the sea tide sang its own song of breathing. Some time passed, and then on the stranger showed himself approaching at the distance. I waved my hand at him, and after the instant, he found his way into my bench while I welcomed him with an extended fist which he casually bumped - after the short acknowledgement the dark alien looked at my face in between it's cover of dark, and looking at it undiscernable in its true features, with suspicion asked.
— What is it that you want?
I acknowledged him as a friend, then mentioned my brief research, as I had come to know him as man looking for a job, yet nobody would hire for things mundane due to his appearance. I listened closely to the news, and came to understand that this was a man looking for a second chance.Then I saw the intent behind his doing, and two words came to stick to my own thoughts. The first one was <> and the second one was <>. I was admired.
In analytical psychology I figured this man was the ESFP —the personality archetype related to the performer and the entertainer—, possessed in an abnormal way by the spirit by which a person submits to it's contrary nature, seeking to integrate and find fulfillment through the chase of what's perceived absent. If he was the ESFP then doing the flip by following the radial axis of each Jungian function in the stack towards their opposite resulted in the INTJ. The mastermind. The architect. The genius yet awfully complex individual. That was the elusive spirit he was chasing.
But a spirit and a character that at its most pronounced embodiment in a person, would experience life as an eternal foreigner hiding from the light of other men. Such made sense to me, for I myself was the INTJ, and had at spirit the ESFP. Him. So where as this man chased the spiritual fulfillment of being a complex and deep individual, I chased the fulfillment of becoming simpler, so I could demonstrate with action the deepest desires of my heart. One who was born plentiful in means to be liked, becomes complex, mysterious and uncomprehended, meeting one who will be seen trying to make sense becoming simpler. For Carl Jung portrayed the anima and animus of individuals, as the sense of what its absent, yet deeply cherished an valued. So I said these things to the alien, while he silently listened to me.
— All of that sounds like bullshit to me. -Said the alien after some contemplation .— Sorry but the things you say, don't mean anything to me.
And alas for I expected such response, as if one thing was true about this journey, was that explaining the journey in and of itself would become it's grimmest task. I affirmated what he just said with a slight nod of head.
— These things I say and how they relate to each other, in its excercise are similar to doing stecheometric balance with equations in the head, but simpler I'm afraid. - Then I paused, looked back into the sea, and continued. — That's high school chemistry, but I don't expect everybody to pick up on it, nor like it, nor understand it.
— Now i have called you a friend, and where I came from we dub with this title the people we share destiny with. As far as I'm concerned, we are chasing the same thing, which is the hardest posible thing. We both innately understand that we are not home, as we want our spirit to return to us, and that's not what a lot of people ever honestly try to attempt in a lifetime; as such is anyone's call to feel complete.
— And very few people ever reach true individuality, beyond the name they are imposed at birth.
Then I looked into the black alien, and in-between his foreign facial features, I interpreted something familiar. Disturbance. And I continued.
— We have given ourselves hell as we lived chasing something hard, so we can avoid the same hell later on when we are finally back to our own house. This is a christian precept, altought a rundimentary one. Does that makes sense to you?
And after listening such, the black alien calmly looked at the veil in my face in silence. Trying to discern what my face actually looked like, but the night was dark. Then turned his stare back to the reflection of the moon over the waters, giving some thought to what I just said. I opened up my backpack, and drawed two cans of beer from it. Offered one to him, and he silently refused with a gesture of hand. I popped my can and gave it a sip, while I myself stared at the tides coming in and out of the shore.
— If you wan't a tattoo, we can work that out. But this sounds annoyingly familiar, and my interest is not religious. Are you religious?
I nodded in affirmation, and complemented saying. — But my doctrine is something nobody has heard nor seen. For its aim, is doing as Christ said, in perfect means. Yet its true that the teaching fits you, as it's the teaching of the future man; and there's nothing in common between the current man and the future man, as they may very well be different species. This is the precept of evolution.
The alien seemed surprised.
— These two men don't know each other, for the current man doesn't know where the future man comes from, for he himself doesn't know where he is going. Yet in deep realization of your own artistic concept, I think you might want new ideas to meet with your appearance. So tell me, are you curious about what truly happens to a man after he dies? Do you want to learn how to read someone's mind? Do you want to blast with words of fire the hearts of an amazed crowd?
But the black alien broke his calm contemplation of what I was saying, and slighty disturbed, aggressively rebuked after hearing such.
— But you mentioned 'Christ', so you must be christian. How can a christian even say anything interesting in this current time? Last time I asked, their sayings were dreaded by restriction - so why would anyone condemn themselves to a life of bore? Are you a christian?
And I nodded after the question, in silence. Admittedly, for I knew what the problem was with being what I was, and my new companion was bang on identifying it. Made a pause, then raised my sight to where it met with the sky and the stars in it, and I said back to him.
— I am, but not one of a type you have ever seen, for the Christ that comes, is a Christ of art.
2.
The riptide sang, in its secret dialect of earth and sea. I looked upon the coast, turned an eye blind, and saw the ocean as the scorpio, and the land as the taurus; as it was the struggle between two lovers, never meant to consume each other. Ideal love then - yet not to confuse with this partnership as it was whimsilcally tied by the means in which i arranged my current conversation; for my lady somewhere waited for me. Then i allowed my eyes to rest still.
The alien looked upon me, undiscernable in my intentions, and again figured for himself that my interest towards him wasn’t clear. In suspicion, and after the moment he collected his thoughts asked “In your weird words you dubbed me performer, so what is it exactly that you wan’t from me. To me it seems like you are gathering people for some form of religious clown show. When you forced this meeting upon me, was this a proposal you thought i would find amusement in?”. And after the statement my own stare wandered in my conversation partner. While as he had his say, i returned to my can of beer, and finished it with a long gulp. Tempered in an unwillingness to fall to my new found friend irritation, i said within my own thoughts: “The alien looks easy going, but he is barbed in wit”.
Then i opened the can of beer that the stranger rejected; the loud pop resounded in the relative silence, interrupting for a moment the steady chorus of the sea. Gave it a long sip, and said.
– Theres no proposal in place yet. But im certain of something, and that is that both of us are messed individuals which reached the bottom doing the same thing - but the way my understandment of the human soul goes: two people can act by mere interaction as reactives to each other, creating a new chemical compound after the fact.
– This new psychology is very much like chemistry. But it is not my intention to draw you into something, but to pull myself out of this «something» by doing right on another person and maybe that person reflecting the good back on me. I just need a conversation partner, thats all. And i will do this with you, and with many people more. Presidents included.
The alien reflected on it, and after the hiatus of a long standing position of suspicion he finally gave in, and eased up with a slight smile. A strange smile of relief. But the smile, was all too familiar for me, as i realized the man was a tortured individual: a person in long standing pain. I smiled back the way he did, and continued.
– Our pain has a common name, and is a name that can be written with words unfortunately. It’s the devilish mother of all spiritual ills and its foundation, rests at the concept of a past that wasnt solved. It’s called «inadequeacy», and for people like you and me, understanding one day that such inadecuacy had to be solved by our own means, lead us into an act where our name changed as the changes in our cover up act to solve our inadequacy did.
– We never honored the past or the present in our pursuit, as we desired in passion to find solution to the present, by matching it into the idealization of some future without ever realizing that the old or present essence of ones being would be crushed into non existance by said future.
– Then we found the realization of that new name, only to understand that its demands became a tyranny on the other faces of our soul: as our soul is not something that can be undestood in unity, but something that conceives in the beginning in multiple things which try to give shape to one thing. Theres many people in a village, and our minds, are no exception.
— But happiness is only achieved by those who have their soul entire - or those who are the same person regardless of the context and scenario. And we gave to much to somebody that wasn't us, as our spirit took possession and lead us down.
– This is this the essence by which someone goes to hell, only to do one thing over again, getting an ever lasting pain for all the things that were given up chasing that which was absent. The more someone is forced into being shaped by the thing that was concevied in lust, the more the individual misses the place they used to call home, for that is no longer within ones reach. Does this makes sense to you?
The alien left me with no answer, and as he contemplated the sea, a tear travelled through his strange face.
– In this state of anguish, affliction rarely ever feels company, as the very individual condition that was pursued, became a full suit and persona to be forced upon and wear. Hell, is one lonely place man because we only learn to speak a language, that only makes sense to ourselves. But i think we can find a way out of it. This is why I'm here.
“Look, what you’ve done, it’s not something i can see the way you can see my own doing on me.” The alien replied. “Besides the way in which i canno’t see your face in this night, you seem ordinary — but what you talk and the way you say it, evokes in every word regret. What is it that you’ve done that has you regret like this?”
As the alien finished speaking, I emptied the can of beer, layed my eyes on the irregular grooves that my feet had left on the sand, and then replied back to him, after making a recap of the story i had repeatedly told myself after falling down.
“My story, is the fairy tale of a guy who makes way for the new coming of a new man; a better man for the world, while he casts disarray upon the earth: much to his dismay, at the expense of his own soul as the people who become victims of disasters, were ones who this man deemed unfair; cruel, evil, despicable in past. That was at the beginning."
"Theres a pile of corpses behind that character — even in covid time, people as close as the local priest of the small town he lived in, would break their neck after falling in the shower, as he had the slightest suspicion of their secret deeds. All clean deads for that matter. Untraceable to nothing but sheer randomness. Magic as it seeems. But were this folk truly evil people or even guilty of anything? You may ask - the man never knew it for sure, as he never had faculties such as godly omniscience to actually know it; which has taken a toll on him, as the burden of justice is an unberable one for anything but a god."
"Which leads to another point: spontaneously picturing random numbers in the head, associating them with psychological compounds by angular momentum, and actually being bang on the suspicion. Truth friend, in its stochastic presentation: it's unberable.”
“Consequential of such attempts to rationalize his own story in the eyes of people such as close family, my dude became clinically diagnosed with referenced thinking. Which are fancy words for schizophrenia. Nobody believed the story as it was uttered."
"Yet the consequences are there for everyone to see, altought not visible in their cause and effect by anybody but this guy, which lead him first into regret over ever starting his quest as a reformer; and then repent.”
“Now before he realized of this lets call it «curse», he preached for years over the internet as the disasters started to slowly creep up. He preached in a fashion parallel to Niestzches Zarathustra; Zarathustra meaning a famous philosophical device artificied by the philosopher Niestzche, who’s aim was to portray the best posible man, as something he dubbed the <<Übermensch>> ”.
“Such concept being the seemingly more elegant brand of a humanist ideal for a not so distant future: today - albeit a wrong one, for this guy was not dyonisian himself. The backbone of his framework, is analytical psycholgy becoming a chariot for a true understandment of human nature: and ultimately a facilitator for love within light: not within ignorance; not within darkness. Most philosophers today though would mock anything analytical in it's aim."
"Then on the guy preached and dwelved further into the relative hole of his own doctrine: and became imprisoned by what he didn’t got right at first attempt, making him in the process the character that Nietzsche from the comfort of his own writers seat, never attempted to actually embody within realistic means: eventually figuring out within himself the ultimate Nietzschean aristocrat: a magic pen granted by being capetian by mother: from judah by father."
"But Alas, you have no idea how common suicide is within philosophers after they finish their best work. As language, becomes the ultimate barrier for understandment, and then to ones capacity to feel love. Difference — true saliency in ones individual destiny— leads to the gravest posible pain. Ironic isn’t it?”
“Besides technical work with a new form of psychology inspired by analytical chemistry, as that drawed from his efforts during the light of day, five years ago, once he felt the urge to try to reach out to the world from a position of what he deemed was greater understandment: he primitively preached during night his new set of ideas for people to behave beyond the limitations of manipulative psychology, albeit a harsh doctrine meant to clear the way for a better product: Christ himself."
"This is not a doctrine a human being can actually perform, as such its christianity at its highest capacity to bear fruit. It’s an impossible doctrine, yet solves the oldest problem posed in the bible. All which sounds very sci-fi bullshit-y but actual problems started for the protagonist in this tale, when the preaching matched with terrible consequences. Not figurative, but within tangible reality.”
“So just as we talk, theres a small legion of hackers pretending to be doing internet social experiments while talking in an artsy matter: much in my own style, entertaining the exact same concepts - a legion of dangerous monkeys, i have no control over."
"One of the many unexpected consequences being this, yet prompted by something evil; ancient: essentially replicating what my protagonist developed and then preached over the years, while these "hacktivists" lay their attention on things and people, as they select them and enforce upon them strict surveillance, to behave properly. Then to destroy them, as they did in 2020 with many corporations and institutions.A bizarre combination of theater actors to my own liking, and then cyber-security demigods: omniscient in their claims to surveill, and they are - derivative such of another device of what I've done; which is to build a theater so people can make-believe that they are infact performing within themselves something greater - but that's matter for another story."
“Most of the corpses piling up flat out dead, have no relation to him whatsoever; they became victims as my protagonist took measures to fight back the monster he found at the foundation of the known world. This is not an elaborate analogy for one's own unseen capacity for evil, as i mean this: a monster as literally as it can be. For these things friend, im doomed as in true strenght, i have nothing but the pen i use to write down what i think albeit always at danger of it’s eventual inversion. I have no real friends left. Not one who can understand, or help bear the pain: as friendship and love are all gated by understandment."
"The full story has many more vertients, but i think i’ve done it enough justice. This is the predicament of an insane man chased by his own shadow as he builds a better man: one who delivers heavenly things, and then a shadow stringed to deliver tyranny as the very strings behind him make the better man stumble while he tries to keep a grasp of his own spirit, and then of his own soul."
"That monster behind, is wicked smart — and cannot be outwitted nor overpowered but anything but divine smite."
“I’m heading now to a new country, to try to get friends from the only institution in the world who knows and adresses the current times being, and who by extension, might believe me. And to clarify, these being the end of times; but not the end of the world. Yet now i myself have a damocles sword pending over my own head, and i need to do something about it before it falls.”
And as i said these things, i reached out to my backpack drawing a third can of beer from it — besides my own super laptop, thats what my backpack had: an infinite supply of beer. Corona, Indio, Victoria, Dos Equis, Heineken; you name it. I popped the can, and gave it a long and definite sip as i emptied it complete.
The alien didn't try to show that he understood, but stood still in silence, with his sight in the sand below and pressing lips, knowing by my demeanor; that these things as I've said them was something that I needed to do. Then he said: "I don't follow man. You say you preach and then disasters occur. Like a prophet from the bible?"
"Yes. Then I preached to get rid of the things that are actually making the world worse, and something awoke soon after, and since then; everything I do is subject to being misinterpreted due to the diffamatory action of this thing. Now everytime I do something, it can be twisted and turned against my original intent. Right now the hackers are my worst problem: I may have a degree in computers but I have no fucking idea whatsoever of hacking. I earn my living as an A.I engineer.".
The alien raised his sight to meet with mine, and after doing some contemplation on the fact, quite simply said: "You are insane". Then lowered his own sight, and raised it again to meet with the sea and continued. "If you want a tattoo, we can work that out. But either way and whatever parts of your story are true and even worse; the ones you may be lying about: you sound dangerous in a delusional kind of sense, and my life is hard enough as is."
I pressed my fists, knowing then the old same thing had happened again. For I had never forced anything upon anybody, and I was willing to respect that until the bitter end. Then I released the build up of frustration with a loud sigh, and after this amend, I replied back.
"I understand and respect it. But let me just propose you that if you ever want to figure what is beyond life as it's lived by person who has never seen what is like to be someone you write a great story about; you can pin me, and I'll show you what's beyond that door. Give it some thought."
The alien; The Black Alien Project stayed there sitting, spechless but calm, almost expecting something else to be convinced about. But pointless, for i knew that nobody can be forced into anything without bringing a transgression into play – and i wasn’t one to taint myself in sin if it could be avoided. Not anymore.
3.
I made the distance at steady pace walking along the shore, until i found a small group of pines in-between the liminal space of the beach and the land. I sat with one of the pines trunk behind my back, and drawed the Schizo Pills from my eternal supply of traveller goodies.
Quetiapine 100 mg, and Olanzapine 10 mg, i made a smaller fragment from the olanzapine pill, and swallowed both complete. As their side effects were concerned, they would soon knock me out of conscience, as this little ritual was my own way of calling the day complete – then i layed there, vigilant, waiting for my own drowsiness to claim me into sleep - but the Bird of Britan came flying from above, and stood besides me.
\Chirp, Chirp, Chirp**
I watched the bird, annoyed, as its presence had become an omen for contempt. For me and the death people of my past. I frowned upon the little shit, and said nothing. The bird made a little nod, while tilting its head in excentricity the way birds do, and replied. — Hey Andrew!, do you remember when you tried to penetrate your own computer to make a universe grow inside of it? I just wan’t to know something: did your computer moan? Did it finally learnt how to scream your name?
\Chirp Chirp**
Ignoring the bird, i closed my eyes and stayed like that for a long moment, hoping to make the bird think i was asleep. Maybe that would make him leave.
— Can’t bullshit me like that Sweetheart. So please tell me something; why don’t you command one of your supermodels; these muses, to come here and warm the bed for you. It's a cold night and you seem lonely brah
. \Chirp Chirp**
I opened my eyes, and irritated, pointed menacingly at the bird turning my left hand into an imaginary gun. I had already failed at something today, and wasn’t convinced i needed the memory of the things i failed at before. Not now.

• Hol’ up cowboy ! you wan’t to bang my bird ass when you should be banging a bitch ass. What happened with Tyrone huckleberry? Did you managed to make him as impotent as you are right now? —I held steady my hand; and tired, the tempation to pull again the trigger on the bird was growing larger. I saw red roses in my own sight, making a terrible omen for a migraine forthcoming. Said nothing.

— The glowniggers are out there brah. You may not be a hacker – and its true, but i took notice of your last words: so now the glowies are going to instead dreambooth* people into every posible kind of scenario of extorsion, while they surveil like a motherfucker. Like you dream boothed yourself for your little ahem "art project". Then we will use Suno*, then Sora* when it open sources. Are you going to protect your hoes?
Said nothing.

• Alright cowboy, i will give meaning to that revelations verse. What was it? Ah yes. Revelations 9:6. Every single person with an internet history will be as paranoid as you were in 2020. Everyone will be diffamated into acts of political terrorism! Aren’t you am-

And as i pulled the imaginary trigger from the imaginary pistol, an imaginary arrow in the sky descended with a blaze of not so imaginary flames on the Bird of Britain, engulfing the little shit in heat, and making it’s body explode into a gore of scorched viscera. As if the bird was in a microwave oven. I inmediately gasped as the explosion was too close from where i was sitting - after the conmotion, stared at the red and burned stain in the floor, and left my sight rest there, as sleep finally found its way into my restless thoughts.
"No longer care for love unless it's between good friends”. Said to myself. There was certainly a migraine coming, but maybe my dreams would help convince it otherwise. And as far as the hoes were concerned, Furious Angels would be there for them. Like the Rob Dougan song.
4.
Found my own mind after the slumber – asleep, then awake. I realized several hours passed - at least enough to wake up and witness the sun rise above the sea. But as for dreams, the light veil of their memories wasn't something to rely upon. But i did remember something, and it was some overtone in dread; an atmosphere of fear – and a kind of dread sustained in it’s inevitability by the urgency that builds upon dearth.
Now what exactly was it though? I couldn’t remember from my dreams, but ever since i falled to my own death i had always present in mind the future succesion of events that would follow when things started to go very wrong. Iran, the U.S, Israel - now whatever was it in the news; the outcome would be the same. A thousand more cuts to an already languishing economy. Make that corpse bleed, and then fall off a cliff.
As such things would be cooked, just as the bird of britain. The bird was still there though: just in pieces and roasted like the contents of a dropped KFC bucket would. But the little shit would return - as it always did. The economy? Not so much.
Yet i digress. None of the world circumstances mattered as far i was concerned – i had built a small and portable solar system to power my laptop, and my beer supply was well, infinite - i made myself sure that i had my needs covered whatever happened around me. Not tied to even a house for that matter. I incorporated myself and gave my back a stretch. The morning breeze coming from the sea evocated in my memories some time that had long passed – late childhood. I rejected those memories as they beared with them things i didnt wan’t to remember - then wen’t on as usual in my morning routine scrolling through my instagram feed, figuring if there were any new hoes to maybe motivate me into doing my God imposed labour.
Labour which was to either write, or to finish the House of Water — then after scrolling i did in fact saw a new hoe; i dropped a Faux Pas comment. Maybe she would play along, maybe not. Whatever. Sometimes I would put in a lot of effort to do a rhyme. But the effort depended on the insta-hoe in question. I know. Not the best of habits, but back in elementary school i was the kind of kid that would only get motivation when the girls in the classroom were present in physEd. And then i would run faster: whole lotta faster. Run Forrest! Run! Women love used to fuel me; and the habit sticked — and at the moment, i was kinda done with the idea of female trascendence. Would rely on their love, but not on their validation. Not like a simp. Fuck that.
Furthermore, what results did i demonstrably mustered after pursuing true egalitarianism and sharing it? Exactly. A bitch gonna do what a bitch gonna do, and so does the human female. After publishing the comment, I locked my phone and walked towards the highway, as i was planning to pay a visit to somebody long forgotten - I had kind of a schedule that i was going to follow, before taking the plane to Madrid and become hispanic Jon Snow from the walgreens Nightwatch.

I'm officially done with it all! For like 4 months, anyway. My Uni has really short terms, and I've found myself on the right end of them - it isn't even half way through May and I've finished all my assignments & sat all my exams.
So that's the first thing you need to know about me - I've got nothing to do. I spend most days in the library, killing time on Reddit or reading books I've been meaning to finish for months.
I really love academia & reading, if that isn't already clear - I also really like current affairs & politics. I don't know why, I find the real-time unfolding of events to be really captivating.
So that's me. I've got too much time, little to do, and an unhealthy obsession with the world. What am I looking for in you? Well it would be great if you were around my age firstly. I'm looking for people who are curious about the world, but also emotionally engaged & open. So if that's you, why not shoot me a message & change my life?

I am currently looking to do a roleplay as an OC of mine in the world of Twilight Princess. Of course this will not follow the canon due to the roleplay occurring after the events of the Game and/or Manga.
​
The character I will be using will be able to transform into a Yutyrannus. (Feathered Tyrant) The character I would like to ship with him would be Twili Midna (Cause I prefer that variant over the imp one) Or a female OC if you would like to ship with him.
The plot will take place a few weeks after the game, Hyrule has seemingly went to peace and the hero has disappeared. During this, there have been rumors about a creature wandering multiple parts of Hyrule. Only a few travelers have ever gotten a glimpse, even rarer some have gotten photographs. A new evil has risen up, attempting to restart Zant's original plan without the interference of the hero and of course- Ganondorf.
I find writing a Zelda roleplay plot extremely hard to do cause of the chosen hero trope it tends to do. The plot is just a skeleton for potentially any other ideas you would possibly like to do.

Credit to Blue for the wonderful cover art of Trilvri
Thank you to:
u/SpacePaladin15 for creating the Nature of Predators universe.
u/EdibleGojid, author of Dark Cuts, for proofreading.
EmClear, aspiring author, for proofreading
You, the reader, for your support. I love reading your comments.
Please consider reading the works of my proofreaders as they’re all authors of excellent stories and be sure to check the links below for more of my work and beautiful art from members of the community.
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Memory transcription subject: Sawvek, Junior Extermination Officer
Date [standardised human time]: October 5th, 2136
Hard foam presses uncomfortably up against delicate pressure points situated across the length of my entire body, building up to an unbearable ache that makes me shift and turn against the thin mattress pad. I yank at the rough old blanket I’d taken out of storage and clutch it even tighter around my body, trying to keep out the chill. The best racks, the ones near the heating vents, had already been claimed long before I’d decided to move into the Guild House’s Barracks and it doesn’t seem likely that the current occupants will be giving up their spots any time soon.
My mind is still racing from the events of last paw, replaying the scene over and over again in my dreams and in my head. The way my brother had looked at me… That look on his face when he’d seen the real me…
My paw gives a sympathetic throb in memory, still aching from where it had met the wall, but at least I had been able to wrap it up a bit and stop the bleeding. I feel like I should take it as a small miracle that it isn't broken. More medical bills are the last thing I need right now.
I turn about in the bunk once more, rolling around in vain to try and find a comfortable position that doesn’t seem to exist. Through a conscious act of will I try to empty my mind and sleep, but the very act of trying not to think about things only brings them bubbling back up to the surface of my thoughts. My heartbeat echoes in my ears, a damnable drumming sound brought about by the exertion of my own restless tossing and turning. Out in the hallway I can hear the muffled shuffling of feet and murmurs of conversation. The Guild Hall never sleeps, and it seems that neither would I this paw.
Electing to abandon the attempt as hopeless, I cut my rest claw short and get up, venturing out into the hallway. If I can’t sleep anyway then I might as well start my waking claw early, maybe get in a little exercise. It’s not so bad when it’s self-directed, almost fun in a way. If our family had the money to support it then maybe I could have been an athlete of some variety growing up. I had always possessed something of a natural physicality.
“Stop wasting time with worthless questions about what could have been, Killer.” The voice interjects, early and active today by the sound of it. “You’ll never amount to anything more than a wild predator kept on a leash.”
There’s nothing to do but sigh and carry on. It was right after all. This is it. This is my life now.
Making my way down the hallway towards the gym I find myself walking past a row of private offices assigned to some of the more veteran officers on staff. Most are empty at this claw, their occupants either asleep or off doing other work. One room in particular catches my attention though, the one belonging to our newest PRED Team Commander.
The door leading inside is open and ajar, seemingly forgotten in the midst of more pressing business and granting me a look inside. The entire room is a mess, papers and binders strewn about everywhere with official looking documents littering the floor. A map of the city decorates the otherwise unadorned and impersonal space. On its face it hosts a variety of multicoloured pins, all connecting seemingly arbitrary locations as well as photographs of people and places from the records department. The face of the former PRED Team Commander, Vrienna, looks out at me once again with the same cruel eyes that decorate the memorial wall. Beside her photo are another pair of eyes, a pair I recognise, but not one I would have expected to see here.
Trilvri, my brother’s creepy coworker, the one who’d brought him home the night he’d drunk himself into a stupor, stares out at me from the wall. He was younger in this photo, barely of age, if even that, and dressed in a regulation space corps flight suit, but I could still recognise him. Trilvri’s eyes appear somehow more lively than when I had met him in person, though it does nothing to improve his overall disposition, looking, as they are, as if behind them resides only hatred and a feral desire to kill and rend. Come to think of it, he had mentioned he used to be in the corps hadn’t he? ‘Used to’ being the operative word. When I’d asked he hadn’t seemed particularly fond of his time in the service…
Situated as he is next to Vrienna like that, their pitch-black wool and evil-looking eyes bear a striking resemblance. It was the exact same sort of predatory expression that bore into your soul, the kind that made me feel weak and exposed, the same kind that was worn by-
“What do you think you’re doing in my office?” A voice asks from behind, nonplussed, but with a casual depth of power and authority behind it that makes me freeze on the spot.
“Commander Glagrig, Sir!” I turn about on the spot, fixed at attention in the doorway as I stare up at the man himself. “I’m sorry to intrude. I noticed someone had forgotten to close the door so I was just going to secure it.”
“I see.” Glagrig doesn’t seem to believe a word of it, but neither does he seem inclined to press the issue. “At ease. Tell me, do you recognise the man in the photo there? Have you ever seen him before?”
“No, Commander.” I lie reflexively as I shift to a parade rest, not fully knowing why, but knowing that whatever is going on I want no part of it, for me or my brother. It’s only after the fact that it occurs to me that lying might be worse than telling the truth.
“How… regrettable.” The prestige officer says plainly and I can’t tell whether he believes me or not. “If you do ever catch sight of this individual, then be sure to let me know immediately.”
“Y-Yes, Commander.” I subconsciously swallow with apprehension, hoping that he doesn’t notice. I want nothing more than to run away as quickly as I can, but I haven’t been dismissed yet.
“Junior Officer Sawvek, was it?” Glagrig carries on, looking me up and down, dissecting me with his eyes. “You have quite the interesting record on file and Officer Intalran is quite adamant about your potential. Your simulator results speak for themselves, even if they are just simulations.”
“Thank you, Commander.” I can feel myself growing dizzy as I answer with uncertainty.
“Don’t thank me,” the all-consuming void in front of me replies with no hint of warmth, “just remember that your performance is under evaluation. It’s in my interests to keep note of promising young aspirants who might someday join my team, and I would hate to see you squander your talents.”
“I-I understand, Commander.” I flick my tail in agreement, straining not to look away towards the floor.
“Dismissed.” Glagrig brushes past me as he enters his office, moving to shut the door behind himself.
“Um, Commander?” I ask just before the door shuts, feeling a beckoning call of curiosity that even the predatory prestige exterminator couldn’t crush. “If you don’t mind me asking… Why do you have all that stuff up on the wall there?”
The door opens again, just a crack, and I can feel my superiors' weighty presence bearing down on me, almost suffocating in its intensity. “It’s simply a personal matter. I have reason to believe that the prior investigation regarding the kelach incident was conducted according to… insufficient standards. The predator responsible was never found and I intend to remedy that deficiency.”
“How hard could it be to find a kelach?” I tilt my ears in confusion. “They're huge!”
“Despite initial reports,” he answers with an ominous, cold tone that sends a chill up my spine, “it may be possible that we're dealing with something far more dangerous than just a kelach.”
“T-Thank you, Commander.” I flick my tail in appreciation and the door closes.
I breathe a sigh of relief as the malevolent aura recedes. That was too close.
“And you’re a complete moron going back to ask him more questions afterwards, Killer.” The voice rises with amusement. “What? Do you want him to figure you out and turn you to cinders? Only a matter of time, Killer.”
“Ugh, shut up.” I mutter under my breath, quickly turning back around to make sure Commander Glagrig didn’t hear me, but when no reprisal comes I quickly depart. If I’m gonna be stupid I should at least try not to do so right in front of his office.
As the imminent threat of our in-house prestige exterminator dwindles so too does the energy driven by the adrenaline of the encounter. It figures that the moment I roll out of bed I want to take a nap again, but I know the moment I lie back down I’ll be back to full wakefulness in an instant. That’s just how that sort of thing works. With that in mind there’s really only one solution, a big, steaming hot cup of tea.
Making my way towards the tea machine I spot Jonsco, the feisty little primitive that mans our dispatch centre, smacking the top of the dispenser with a clenched paw while holding a mug underneath it.
“Is the tea machine fixed?” I ask as I pull out a mug from the cabinet myself.
Jonsco sighs heavily and shoots me a combative glare. “For the last time it’s not my brahking job to fix this damn tea machine! You got a problem with that then you can go pester someone else about it!”
I shrink back under the harsh rebuke. Jonsco may be small, but there was as much rage and fury condensed into that little package as anyone else in this department. Maybe more.
“I… I didn’t mean to imply…I just wanted to know if it was working again or not… Sorry.” I sputter out, feeling properly admonished as I look away towards the ground.
Jonsco looks at me quizzically, his hard glare softening somewhat as he seems to truly see me for the first time before returning to his usual scowl.
“Right…Whatever you say…” With one final smack the machine coughs and chokes, sputtering to life with a struggle, and a small trickle of freshly brewed tea begins to fill Jonsco’s cup. “The machine is on the fritz again as usual, but if you hit it just right, do a little percussive maintenance, then you can get it started again.”
“Thanks, Jonsco.” I lean back against the wall and watch as the mug slowly fills, impressed by the primitives know-how. “That's actually pretty smart of you.”
“For a ‘primitive’ right?” The words are barbed and spiteful, but lack his typical enthusiasm, more of a simple statement of fact than a real question. I couldn't exactly deny it, those had been my thoughts, and so the silence drags on awkwardly, marked only by the splash of tea falling into the steadily rising pool.
“What are you doing here at this claw anyway?” I eventually ask, dodging the question entirely. “We’ve still got at least another half-claw until our crew's shift is supposed to start.”
“I could ask you the same thing, you know?” The angry little dispatch operator retorts. “I'm here early working an overtime shift so I can afford to put food on my family's table. It's expensive feeding that many mouths. What's your excuse?”
“I had a fight with my brother…” I rub the back of my neck as I turn away abashedly, “moved out of the apartment and into the barracks full time… couldn't sleep…”
“Well then you should hurry up and work on patching things up with him.” Jonsco looks at me with an uncharacteristic hint of sympathy in his eyes. “Your family are the only ones who might actually care. This Gods-damned place is a slyther’s nest and no one here gives a speh about you or your problems. If you want my advice, you should do your best to spend as little time in this cesspool as possible.”
With his cup now full, Jobsco steps back from the machine and begins walking out towards the main hall.
“Thanks, Jonsco.” My words stop him in his tracks as he walks away from me. “I appreciate it.”
“... You're welcome.” He says after a short pause, glancing back to look at me one more time before leaving. “See you around, Sawvek.”
Taking advantage of the tea machine while it’s still mostly working, I fill up my own cup and drink deeply of the warm, fragrant beverage. The taste is bitter and unpleasant, just about the quality I would expect of this Guild Hall, but even at the first taste it’s evident that it’s been loaded with an extra strength dose of caffeine. I down the drink quickly and rinse out the cup before continuing on my journey towards the training hall. Fatigue begins to fall away as I walk, bit by bit as the drug makes its way into my bloodstream, blocking off sleep receptors and energising me. I know I’ll probably pay for it later, no amount of caffeine can actually replace sleep, but for now it feels good and I can see how some people can get addicted to the stuff.
A loud, metallic clanging emanates from the gym as I approach, something unexpected for this time of paw. No one's reserved space in the gym for this claw and not many people are industrious enough to sweat on their own initiative. Peeking my head inside the door I spy Bikim, the perfect, privileged, ‘holier than thou’ brahkass occupying the otherwise empty weight room. His irritatingly handsome face is taut with strain as he performs a series of weighted squats, his back and leg muscles straining underneath his short-cropped wool, and he pants heavily under the exertion.
I’m half tempted just to leave and go back to bed despite the fact that there’s no way I’d be getting any sleep with the tea running through my system. It’s too early in the paw to deal with Bikim’s speh. Before I can slip away unnoticed though, he spots me. I give a heavy sigh and continue my way inside. There's nothing to be done for it now. Trying to back out now would only make things worse later, a sign of weakness.
“What… Do you want… Predator?” Bikim asks between gulps of air as he reracks his weights, practically hanging off the bar to support himself on shaky legs.
“Good paw to you too, Bikim.” I say, forcing civility into my tone. “I’m here to use the equipment. Same as you. I'm allowed.”
“Whatever…” He eyes me with suspicion. “Just keep your distance… I don't want to catch any of your taint.”
“Believe me,” I flick my tail out in irritation, “I intend to.”
Looking around the room for available spots, I march my way over towards a cable machine on the opposite side of the room. Not nearly as far from Bikim as I would like, but the farthest I can get without leaving the weight area entirely. Bikim watches me all the while as I seat myself down and begin adjusting the machine. Eventually he grows tired of watching me fumble around with the machine and returns to his own exercises with a displeased flick of the tail, quite obviously judging me for my lack of experience with the equipment.
A tense sort of quiet settles over the room as we each go about our business, trying our best to ignore one another. Bikim slowly winds his way around the room, cycling from station to station to exercise all the different parts of his body in sequence before repeating it all again. He seems to bypass my corner of the room, glancing over at me with each repetition of his pattern. For myself, I stay put where I am, taking advantage of the varied exercises offered by the versatile machine to experiment with different muscle groups. Occasionally I slip up, dropping the weights with a loud clang that always draws Bikim’s ire. Every time he seems just a bit more disgruntled, a bit less patient. Eventually, the constant disruption reaches a tipping point and the pompous, self-entitled jerk walks over to confront me.
“Do you always do this?” He asks rhetorically. “If you keep slamming the weights like that you're gonna break it. Your form is speh so either fix it or lower the weight so you don't have to keep compensating. Better yet, just leave. You’ve been monopolising the cable machine for almost half a claw now. I don't know why you're even here in the first place.”
“Oh, look at Mr. Know-it-all thinking he can just go around telling us what to do, eh Killer?” The voice rises to the challenge. “Where does a guy like that who's been handed everything his whole life think he can get off with telling us how we should be doing anything?”
“Brahk off Bikim!” I don't even try to reign in the predator inside, feeling justified in letting it roam free for once. “I didn't ask for your advice and you don't get to kick me out of the weight room just because you can't wait your turn! I'm here because I don't have anywhere else to go! Ever since Intalran dragged me into this stupid Guild this brahking job has taken over my entire life! I don't even have a home to go back to anymore!”
Bikim's body tenses at my tirade and his tail flicks out aggressively like a whip.
“That's your own damn fault, predator!” He shouts back, eager for the excuse to vent his own frustrations. “Maybe if you weren't just some blood-starved beast out roaming the streets then you wouldn't be here right now! I’ve read your file! You got a history of herdless behaviour and physical altercations! Someone should have institutionalised you a long time ago, but someone took pity on you and let you slip through the cracks because of your poor dying mommy! They should have known it would come back to bite them! A normal, functional member of the herd wouldn't even think to pick a flamer up off the ground and burn another person to death with it! But you? You did it instinctively! You revelled in it!”
“You think that was easy for me!” I get up and walk towards him as I yell incredulously. “You think I asked for that to happen! You think it was fun for me to get choked out and almost eaten! That thing I burned wasn't even a person anymore! It was a predator in the middle of a feeding frenzy! So yeah, I did what I did, and you know what? It's a good thing I did! If I wasn't a freak of nature then that thing would have kept on going and kept on killing! Last I checked, preventing that sorta thing was supposed to be your job, but I had to be the one to step up! Now I have to live with the consequences of my actions every paw, knowing that I’m a Protector-damned killer that doesn't belong anywhere! Maybe you, in your infinite wisdom, would've known the perfect thing to do in that situation, but I’m not you! I’ve had to work and struggle for every little thing I have! Not just had it handed to me on a silver platter!”
“Oh, so you got me all figured out do you?” Sarcasm drips from Bikim's mouth as he looks down on me. “You don't know me. You don't know my life or what I’ve been through, how hard I’ve worked to get where I am. You just see the end product from cycles of effort and assume that it's always been that way, that it's always been that easy. It hasn't.”
“Yes, I’m sure you had it so hard growing up Bikim.” Saying it aloud almost makes me laugh. “You’re such a child of privilege that it drips off of you with every move you make and every word you say. I hate people like you, thinking that you're better than everyone else just because you were lucky enough to be born into wealth and status. Try living like the other side for a change, scrounging for every credit just so you can afford to eat, and then try to tell me how hard you had it with a full belly and a warm home!”
“You’re right, predator,” Bikim says contemptuously, “I am a child of privilege. My family has a long and decorated military tradition, my father is a captain for the space corps, a brahking hero, and I’ve reaped the benefits of that. That privilege came at a cost though, and that’s called expectations. Second best is not good enough and I've had to put in ten times the effort as anyone else my whole life just to meet standards! At least you grew up with a father who was there for you and loved you without the condition that everything you do is perfect!”
“All that talk about reading my file and you didn't even get past the first page did you?” I snap at him with a snarl. “ I didn't grow up with a father at all! He's been dead since I was in elementary school! Killed in action! I barely even remember him anymore!”
That one seems to give Bikim pause, but I’m not done yet.
“If you and your whole family are such a bunch of brahking heroes then how come you're here, working as a common garrison exterminator in a run-down backwater city like this?” I taunt. “Shouldn't you be out gallantly fighting the Arxur with one of the fleets or on a colony pacification force rather than making my life here harder than it already is?”
“That's the price for failing to meet expectations,” Bikim quiets down, drawing away from the world and into himself, “the price for knocking up a beautiful, wonderful girl right after graduation and refusing to get rid of it afterwards. You get cut off. You lose that privilege, and you do whatever you have to in order to provide and try to be a good role model for your son.”
Now that one threw me for a loop. In the short time I’ve known Bikim I’ve had a lot of thoughts about him, few of them good, but never would I have expected him to be the type to take responsibility… For anything. Still, there is one thing about his story that doesn't line up…
“Oh really?” I take a step back as I watch for his reaction closely. “I seem to recall Jonsco mentioned just the other day that your wife had left you for a Human.”
“Don't you bring that brahking primitive into this!” Bikim's anger flares in an instant before returning to a subtle simmer of regret. “We’ve just been having a… a rough patch in our relationship. I’m not giving up on us. I’ll win her back. She's just… confused and being taken advantage of! It's all that damn predators fault!” Bikim sighs and sits down on a nearby bench. “You're not the only one whose had something taken from them because of this job. You're not the only one without a home to go back to.”
Looking at Bikim now, a sad, pathetic man moping on the bench with nothing better to do on his rest claw than to try to externalise his inner pain… I find it hard to stay angry at him. He's still a narcissistic brahk ass and a complete jerk, but it's hard to truly hate someone when you actually know them. I had made quite a few assumptions about him when we first met, and he certainly hadn't helped my impression of him since, but… perhaps I was wrong to judge him so harshly?
“Nah,” the voice chortles, “he’s a piece of speh that got what he brahking deserves for being an insufferable prick.”
Overhead the intercom crackles to life and I can hear Jonsco's voice reverberating over the airwaves.
“Officers Vaesh and Sawvek please report to the briefing area for assignment. Repeat. Officers Vaesh and Sawvek please report to the briefing area for assignment.”
“Sounds like it's time for your first field assignment, Kid.” Bikim says, staring up at the intercom. “At least it gets you out of my wool. Try not to brahk it up and make the rest of us look bad.”
“Hmph.” I turn to leave, muttering to myself. “Stupid brahkass.”
—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A/N - Hello! Sorry this one took a while. Like I mentioned before I got delayed working on my Ficnapping chapter as well as a crossover One-shot that's still in progress (but hopefully will be done soon). In other news we have new art of Sawvek's life-changing encounter in the Builder's Lane Bloodbath as drawn by Miglove and you can still find that and everything else Nature of Family in the new Master Post linked up above.
If you like the story then please remember to upvote, comment, and use the “!Subscribeme” function to be alerted to all new posts. I post as often as I can but real life has a tendency of getting in the way and my job makes it almost impossible to keep to any kind of schedule. Your engagement and support go a long way towards helping to keep me on track and motivated, so thank you very much for reading and I hope you'll stay tuned for next chapter!

i think i’m doing so great until the illogical wave of emotion just hits me. i forget how two halves of me feel as soon as i switch between them. nothing is good, nothing can be good, nothing will be good. how am i supposed to tell myself that it will pass when i can’t imagine any other thoughts and feelings in that moment. changing my train of thoughts feels so useless when the pain is still there. i can’t explain this to other people because it is so unreasonable to anyone when it’s said out loud. i’ve found myself feeling so embarrassed when i reach out. i’ve used one of those text this number if you want to killl yourself things, and i could not carry on talking about how my current worries and reasons for wanting to die are either unknown or seemingly inconsequential. anybody else would think that it’s laughable. how am i supposed to say i’m having suicidal thoughts because of false scenarios and what is basically a spiral of wild assumptions of how the people around me might view me. i think generally people feel jealousy, paranoia and other really difficult emotions when it’s warranted, or maybe because of insecurity, but what people fail to understand is how incredibly debilitating and life ruining it is to have them at almost every moment. i think to explain such a visceral reaction to such “minor” things, each and every one of us would have to relay every event from birth to that second. who has time for that

How do you think trauma should be portrayed in writing? I'm currently coming up with characters, and I want to give them some kind of trauma; not for the sake of it, but for the readers to understand what horrible life events can do to a person.
I personally think it should be where the characters are already affected by it, giving us the ending before the beginning. This leaves us wondering how someone could possibly turn out that way. That way, when we do see what they've been through, this isn't just for us to pity them, but to better understand them and realize why they act the way they do.
Do you agree?
I'm not a psychologist, or a victim of trauma of any kind, so I don't know if this is right. I want to handle it with a lot of care and respect.

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Since this will be a long post with all important details here's a shorter description for people who had a similar problem before:
Current specs:

• CPU: Ryzen 5800X
• Motherboard: Gigabyte X570 Aorus Ultra
• GPU: MSI GeForce RTX 3080 Gaming X Trio
• PSU: Corsair RM750x
• Ram: Corsair Vengeance LPX, DDR4, 32 GB, 3200MHz, CL16
• NVMe 1: Kingston KC3000 2TB (C: system)
• NVMe 2: Kingston KC3000 2TB (D:)
• Sata SSD: Crucial MX500 1TB (E:)

What's the issue:
on random days the 2nd NVMe drive stops responding while trying to play some modern 3D games (Starfield intro is very repeatable, Helldivers 2, Titanfall 2 menu, Fortnite, Minecraft with shaders, can't reproduce it in any other way besides playing games) and this causes the games to crash, the drive stays accessible but I'm only able to read what is in the cache I guess. Here's what's in the event viewer https://imgur.com/a/F6sxz5KI can keep using my main drive and play games on it. After restarting my PC it works fine until I try to play a game on it again, then the same thing happens.
Which drives had this happen:

• Samsung 980 Pro 2TB that I had replaced on warranty because of a worse issue that caused BSODs, they didn't find any issues after this started happening, now this drive is sold and the guy doesn't have any issues, it crashed in my 2nc NVMe slot
• 2nd Kingston KC3000 as my D: drive, it crashed in the 2nd and 3rd NVMe slot, also today in a PCIe NVMe adapter card which I slotted in the x8 slot (2nd metal reinforced slot)
• my main (1st, C:) Kingston KC3000 DID NOT crash so far, it's been sitting in the 1st NVMe slot the whole time

How do I temp fix it:
so far it goes away for a week or two or more after plugging the drive to another slot (today that didn't work, maybe because I did it quickly), but to do that I have to completely unplug my PC and take out my GPU. One time it went away after upgrading my BIOS and resetting it completely. If I don't do anything about it then the next day it might work totally fine, then break the day after.
​
Now the whole story of all the parts from past to now:
The motherboard, CPU, PSU and GPU combo I bought off of my close friend, they didn't have any issues and probably used this setup for way more in a day than me. They had 2 NVMe drives plugged in the top 2 NVMe slots, one of them was a Samsung, some random model, probably irrelevant, they kept their drives.I used an ADATA XPG SX8200 1TB with my Sata SSD with that setup originally, no problems whatsoever.
(NVMe1: Adata, NVMe2: empty, NVMe3: empty)
A year ago I bought a Samsung 980 Pro 2TB, the model that had the issues and owners were told to update it, mine was already up to date. I cloned stuff from the Adata to the Samsung and put it into the 1st slot, wiped the Adata and put it into the 2nd.
(NVMe1: C: Samsung, NVMe2: D: Adata, NVMe3: empty)
Everything was fine for half a year until I started getting bluescreens, very non descriptive. No minidumps were being saved. After some time I figured out it should be the Samsung drive, bought my first Kingston KC3000 and cloned stuff from my Samsung before sending it off to RMA.Didn't have more problems after that, but I might have just been lucky...
(NVMe1: C: Kingston, NVMe2: D: Adata, NVMe3: empty)
My RMA was approved and I got a replacement, I cloned games from the Adata onto the new Samsung and slotted it in it's place.
(NVMe1: C: Kingston, NVMe2: D: Samsung, NVMe3: empty)
Three months later I started having my current drive issue, there are no bluescreens anymore, just the game launched from the Samsung crashing and it being unresponsive until a reboot. I submitted another RMA, bought another Kingston KC3000 to keep my 4TB in fast storage, cloned from Samsung to the new Kingston, sent the Samsung away on RMA but this time, after 1 hour of troubleshooting on their side (that's what it seems from the message timestamps), they found no issues and sent the Samsung back.I decided to sell the Samsung until the same issue appeared with the brand new Kingston. In this moment I started thinking it's a motherboard/CPU issue.
(NVMe1: C: Kingston, NVMe2: D:Kingston (newest), NVMe3: empty)
I moved the new Kingston into my 3rd NVMe slot, it's been running fine for a month, until this Monday...
(NVMe1: C: Kingston, NVMe2: empty, NVMe3: D:Kingston (newest))
An idea I had was to get a NVMe to PCI Express adapter, which I did get today and slotted it right under my GPU, in the second "metal" PCIe slot, trying to rule out my motherboard chipset, since the 2nd and 3rd NVMe slots go through it, while the 1st goes straight to the CPU.
(NVMe1: C: Kingston, NVMe2: empty, NVMe3: empty, PCIe x8: D: Kingston (newest))
Sadly, even with this setup it keeps crashing in that way. I was hoping that it will be fine, since that slot is also going straight to my CPU from what I read.
My ideas about the possible cause:

• brand new drives, both being broken in a similar way?
• was almost certain it was the motherboard, until today
• the CPU?
• the repeated cloning? I use clonezilla, copying the partition tables and pure data shouldn't cause such things..

What I can still try with my available stuff:

• swap the Kingstons around, so the one with games sits in the 1st slot
• use my old Adata instead of the new Kingston (less capacity)
• switch to a Ryzen 3600 to rule out the 5800x (loss of performance for at most 2 months)
• wipe both drives and reinstall everything (very annoying and time consuming)

I'm very welcome for possible ideas and suggestions, I'm very frustrated at this point because I can't trust my PC since it can break at any moment.
Thanks for reading.