Each year, the Met Gala dazzles the world with its extravagant display of fashion and celebrity culture, but this year's event stirred up more than just admiration. As Hollywood's elite graced the red carpet, dozens of pro-Palestinian protesters gathered outside, urging attendees to acknowledge the ongoing conflict in Gaza. Now, the fallout from the event has spilled over onto social media, with users leveraging digital campaigns to hold celebrities accountable for their silence on pressing issues.
Why the Outrage?
While the Met Gala is typically celebrated for its stunning fashion statements, this year's event drew criticism for its ostentatious display of wealth amidst the backdrop of the Israeli war in Gaza. Social media platforms buzzed with commentary, with many users expressing their discontent over the disconnect between the glamorous affair and the grim realities of the world.
In the aftermath of the Met Gala, digital campaigns gained traction, urging users to boycott celebrities on social media platforms. Marcus Collins, an assistant professor of marketing at the University of Michigan, noted the significance of the event in sparking these campaigns, citing the juxtaposition between the gala and the conflict in Gaza as a catalyst for social mobilization.

Blockout2024 Movement

One prominent campaign to emerge from the backlash is #Blockout2024, spearheaded by TikToker @BlockOut2024. In a viral video, he called on users to block celebrities on social media, effectively cutting off their revenue streams from ad engagement. The movement gained momentum as users shared their own lists of blocked celebrities using hashtags such as #blockout, #digitine, and #celebrityblock.
Marie Antoinette and the Digital Guillotine Another viral moment that fueled the backlash occurred when TikToker Haley Kalil posted a video using the infamous phrase "Let them eat cake," attributed to Marie Antoinette. Dubbed the "digitize" by TikToker @LadyFromTheOutside, this digital guillotine symbolizes a call to action to block celebrities and influencers who fail to leverage their platforms for social good.
Who's on the Chopping Block?
Social media users have targeted a wide range of celebrities, including household names like Harry Styles, Jojo Siwa, Ellen DeGeneres, and Kylie Jenner. The campaign continues to evolve as users share their decisions to block specific stars daily.
Impact on Celebrities While the full extent of the backlash remains to be seen, celebrities have reportedly experienced a significant loss in followers as a result of the #Blockout2024 movement. Although the immediate impact on their online presence is unclear, the campaign has raised awareness about the power of social media users to hold influencers and celebrities accountable for their actions—or lack thereof.
As social media continues to shape public discourse and influence cultural narratives, the Met Gala controversy serves as a reminder of the platform's potential to amplify voices and catalyze meaningful change. Whether this digital activism translates into tangible consequences for celebrities remains to be seen, but one thing is certain: the era of passive consumption is giving way to a new age of social accountability.
For Socialode, our goal is not for users to listen to celebrities, but to find friends. Users shouldn't idolize a person based on their wealth or fame. Everyone should find people who like them for them and not what the world sees them as.
Every person is unique. Every person is different.
Socialode's job is to find "Real" friends for you, so you can just be you.

I am currently in the process of buying a house. My email was compromised, I am not sure when or how, but hackers managed to get in and set up rules that meant my emails weren't going to my conveyancer and they were able to send me emails pretending to be my conveyancer. They asked for me to transfer our deposit for the house and sent bank details. I said I would transfer £1 to ensure the details were correct and did this. They replied all was fine and kept pressing for me to transfer my max daily amounts. I phoned my conveyancer who had no record or emailing me about the deposit and said this wouldn't be done until exchange. Then obviously I panicked big time. Phoned the bank who said they couldn't do a block as it was just £1 voluntarily transferred and that the hackers won't be able to access my account. I had sent an email to my conveyancer with a bank statement that it is possible the hackers have seen so they have name, address, sort code and account number. My conveyancers were great and the IT department talked me through securing my email account, removing the rules that had been added etc. I have obviously changed all passwords now and will be watching for any unusual direct debits. Should I be relatively OK if the scammers were only able to get name, address, sort code and account number? Obviously worried they could access my accounts but don't see how. Also aware they could try and open credit but this doesn't seem to be their MO.

Ciao🍋
I'm Elle - 25+, F, 10+ years experience, staunch purple prose hater. if we already write and you see me posting this, i'm not replacing you - i just have a lot of ideas and want to find more people i'm compatible with.
WHAT I WANT TO WRITE:
(bolded means i'd rather play. if none is bolded i have no preference.)
- --- ATTACK ON TITAN - ---

• f!oc x m!oc (military police x survey corps member OR scientist x survey corps member OR medic x survey corps member for example)
• marleyan f!oc x marleyan m!oc
• paradis oc x marleyan oc
• erwin smith x f!oc or minor canon
• zeke yeager x f!oc or pieck finger
• porco galliard x f!oc or pieck finger
• levi ackerman x f!oc (bonus points if it's a warrior f!oc)
• jean kirstein x hitch dreyse
• reiner braun x f!oc (a bit selective with this one, need to discuss plot ideas first)
• jean kirstein x f!oc
• erwin smith x f oc (a bit selective in the sense that i love writing erwin but i only write specific ships)
• zeke yeager x f!oc
• mike zacharias x f!oc or minor canon
• gunther schultz x f!oc or minor canon
• eld gin x f!oc or minor canon
• hanji/hange zoe x levi ackerman

- --- JUJUTSU KAISEN - ---

• yuji itadori x f!oc
• kento nanami x f!oc
• takuma ino x f!oc
• maki zenin x - m!canon (takuma, megumi, etc) or m!oc
• akari nitta x - m!canon or m!oc
• satoru gojo x utahime lori
• satoru gojo x f!oc (selective, need to plot first)
• suguru geto x f!oc (selective, need to plot first)
• megumi fushiguro x f!oc
• nobara kugisaki x m!oc
• kento nanami x f!oc
• kento nanami x shoko leiri
• shoko leiri x m!oc
• hiromi higuruma x f!oc
• toji fushiguro x f!oc

WHAT I EXPECT FROM YOU

• You're 18+. absolutely no minors, please.
• You're willing to jump straight into things - it's the best way to know if we'll be compatible and want the same plots.
• You'll always share your ideas (even if you're hesitant or self-conscious - I'm too, and I always make sure to put in the effort so I fully expect the same from my writing partners).
• You're ok filling out ship/character memes because they are my bread and butter. I don't require us to talk every day or even about our lives, but I NEED us to headcanon and share ideas. If you give me monosyllabic answers, I'll soft block you. If we started talking and I stopped replying it's probably because of this.
• You're interested in having more than one plot/ship. I ’m only interested in writing with partners who will double up and/or write a mutimuse with me.
• You don't hate writing male characters - I greatly enjoy writing both men and women and I can very clearly tell when someone wants to double up. I WILL soft-block immediately.
• You know when to rapid-fire and when to write long descriptive threads and don't care about word counts. I can write a lot but I hate ending up with a thread that has 10 different lines of dialogue because it's messy as hell, also just because a reply is lengthy doesn't mean it has quality or substance.
• You'll let me know if you want to drop things. I don't require constant communication, but I value my time - please don't waste it.
• You'll actually be interested in getting to know the character(s) I write.
• You enjoy both realism and cliché/cringe tropes.
• If you reach out to me, please just dive right in and introduce yourself and let me know which ships you're interested in.

WHAT YOU CAN EXPECT FROM ME:

1. I'm a long-term writer. I've been writing some ships for 10 years. So yea, I'm not going anywhere.
2. I care. I truly do care about your characters and our ships. I will ask questions, I'll make moodboards, etc. I will literally send you memes and HCs and create Pinterest boards one hour after we start talking because I'm both stupid and unhinged. I’m not a nonchalant person.
3. Replies at best every two days, at worst once a week. If I'm busy, might take longer.
4. I don't have triggers so I'm willing to write a lot of things. Respect and communication are key though - also, absolutely no bigotry.
5. Idc about following canon too closely.
6. I love exploring characters in a very realistic way but I WILL conjugate that realism with more gringy elements. I also love writing characters in different ways: paras, letters, diary entries, drabbles, threads where no dialogue happens, etc.

That's it! Thank you for reading and don't forget to say hi if you're interested.

Genocide looked to the sky. He thought of his mentor. The one who had saved him. He remembered his childhood. How powerless he was. He remembered the anger. He never wanted to hurt anybody. He thought of all the times he showed compassion. How much they hurt him for it. He saw the world before him, a graveyard. Humans. People that were supposed to be made in the image of some divine creator. They were but maggots feasting upon his remains. They ate away at his very being until nothing human remained. His thoughts were no longer his own. He had no joys in life that mattered. He hated humanity more than he could love anything about himself. He remember his first killing spree. Being gunned down by police. Left for dead. He remembered a hooded figure moving towards him. Getting closer the more he neared his death. He saw its pale face. Its impossibly black eyes. It was a man. This figure in question appeared to be of Japanese nationality with long, straight, loose hair. It emanated extreme malice. It offered him a choice. A purpose. Power. He thought the figure a reaper but it identified itself as Amakusa Masataka. Masataka guided him on how to kill and gave him specific locations to kill people in. In a sense, he became a hitman for quotas of people. He inquired what Masataka was. The presence of evil, his ability to appear and disappear at will, how he could control what people could see him and what people couldn't. While vague, years of killing for this being offered some insight. Amakusa Masataka belonged to a group of people not of this world. His people had been corrupted by a dark force long ago and had aligned themselves with the warlord who had subjugated their version of Japan. Their dark high priest assisted the warlord along with two others. These four rulers in turn served a larger order. The four were tasked with bringing about the end of the current world as an act of retribution for some fallen deity. Masataka's people acted as covert operatives for this empire. They were feared across the land and were collectively referred to as "Shinigami". An agent of the coming apocalypse, a servant of evil possessed by the will of those gods of death, Genocide would walk the earth.
Genocide stepped toward the station. A police cruiser rammed into him. He pulled out a knife and stabbed the hood of the car. The inhuman force of the knife created sparks which burst the engine into flames. The car crashed into a streetlight and exploded. A second cruiser neared the scene. No way a man could have done this. Yet still, out of the fires Genocide strode forth. It set upon the second vehicle, shooting out it's tires while jumping 9 feet into the air. The car tries to reverse but crashes into a wall. Genocide lands on the hood and kicks through the front window. Glass shatters under its boot, blinding the two officers inside. Genocide shoots one of the officers with a shotgun, killing him. The second officer in the passenger seat readies his pistol and takes aim. Only two shots fired, both directed at Genocide's head. It casually cocks its neck to avoid them. Then it grabs the officer's arm, breaking it. Genocide uses its free hand to grab the officer's head and bangs it into the dashboard no less than 5 times. The skull is shattered on the final impact. Genocide jumps off the car and continues on his mission.
Detective Evans speaks through a megaphone," This is your first and final warning. Stand down or we will use any and all means at our disposal to put you down." Genocide dropped its shotgun and raised its hands. A group of five SWAT team members rushed out the station, surrounding Genocide with riot shields. An officer accompanies them, edging behind the figure to apply handcuffs. Suddenly, Genocide springs to life , grabbing the officer behind him. He flips the officer over his head, slamming him into the pavement at his feet. Then Genocide stomps his head causing it to burst. Genocide drops a flash bomb from his coat sleeve, blinding the SWAT team as he draws his knife. He drives it into one SWAT member, the knife puncturing the shield and piercing his chest. Genocide kicks the corpse away withdrawing his knife. He goes to another, this time using the end of his boot toe in a rising kick to disarm their shield. He grabs them by the throat and drives the knife slowly into their eye socket. Another is tackled to the ground and beaten to death despite still being under the shield. Another is picked up and thrown into the fires still burning from the first auto incident. In no time, Genocide stood before an indistinguishable mass of gore, blood streaking across his black leather outfit. He laughed" So this is all you can give me. I'm not entertained." Officers took aim from the station windows, and snipers did so from other rooftops. Genocide laughed maniacally as he was rained down upon from all sides by a hailstorm of bullets. His body convulsed, but he did not fall. Moments more and he was on his knees. Still though, their efforts were futile. Gracia looked out and saw a black mist coalescing around the man in black. His blood. Blood erupted from his body only to transform into this dark mist that reentered his wounds. Genocide screamed. No. It was just an elevated pitch in his laughter. Optimism failed everyone yet again. Gracia saw Genocide holding something in his right hand. She could only make out a beeping red light. Genocide pushed the button triggering the carefully concealed explosives he laid in preparation for this event. C4 explosives went off in all the places he saw fit. The sniping posts he couldn't reach. The assault of lead lightened. Then Genocide drew an RPG from...somewhere. He collected himself and fired at the station's entrance. The explosion shook the station. From inside, the lights began to flicker. Communications were down on all fronts. Had he modified the rocket with some type of EMP? Not good. Amisdst the confusion Genocide entered using smoke bombs to mask his presence. Moving like a shadow, he killed everyone in the lobby silently with his knife. He made his way to the holding cells. Still they chanted. Still they praised. Still they raved for the arrival of genocide. Genocide shot the lock opening the cell. Jim Jimenez walked out and bowed before his master. Genocide smiled. He couldn't have imagined how proficient he had gotten with possession. Well, not quite possession. He had known of the Shinigami's ability to share their thoughts and emotions with humans. Shinigami like his mentor were ancient. They had so many years of memories, such strong a hatred for life that they overwhelmed the personality of the victim. The victim sees themselves as one of them. Shinigami can't force the will of the victim, so they find those who are already similar to them in some way. Genocide found the collective universal distrust of police to be a prime sentiment to capitalize on. He armed the inmates, infecting them with samples of his own dark essence.One particular inmate caught Genocide's eye. He knew the man's work. An arsonist. The one whom he recalls was responsible for blowing up his first car way back in high school. Rather than a standard firearm, Genocide gave the man a random assortment of grenades containing a special surprise. Genocide showed them visions of anarchy, of sending a message to a society that used and disregarded them. While this was also true of how he felt, years of living in darkness had changed him. He needed no purpose. No end goal. No justification. He just wanted to watch the world burn.
Genocide's small army broke off to engage several different wings of the station. Genocide went to the security room. He found Wayne, his informant, playing some FPS on one of the monitors. Wayne took of his headphones and asked," You kill everyone yet?" Genocide responded," No. You should get going before that happens. Your life becomes fair game if I run out of pigs to cook." Wayne clapped his hands, "Aight, GC my man, say less." He packed his things and left. Genocide drew a twin pair of handguns and laid waste to the station. He followed a group that took cover in the men's restroom. Kicking open multiple stalls he was surprised to find...nothing. Where had they gone? He turned around and saw his mentor, Masataka, smiling at him. It looked like him. Long, dark hair, black clothing, and soulless, empty eyes. But it wasn't. It was Genocide's own reflection in the mirror. Genocide smiled. He didn't notice the changes at first. They must have happened gradually. Subconsciously. From the final stall, an officer sprung into action, rushing Genocide, hitting him point blank with a shockgun round. Genocide felt the tingling sensation electrifying his body and grew numb. In spite of the pain, he took a single step. Then, another. He came within striking range of the officer and snatched the shockgun. Two more officers erupted from another stall, battering him with baton strikes. Genocide felt nothing. He clutched the shockgun in his hand like a bat and went to work pulverizing his attackers. An officer kicked in the bathroom door, a woman holding a pistol. She fired multiple times to no effect. Genocide stood covered in blood. He even let her reload. Twice. He wanted to see her despair. Her hopelessness. He walked towards her, shrugging off bullets as they pierced his body. His wounds healed nigh instantly due to the dark essence he had been imbued with. He held her face with both hands, lifting her body off the ground. As she screamed, he used her head to shatter the restroom mirror, running down the full length of it while smashing her into it at several points. He dropped the remains of what he held, washed his hands with soap, dried them, then exited the restroom.
The inmates that rallied for the cause of genocide attacked the station. Fortunately, they were nowhere near Genocide in terms of power and only carried one type of firearm each. They shared his healing ability but could be killed quite easily. Gracia encountered a sniper on the end or a west wing hallway. Other officers waited behind corners unable to get close. Gracia noticed the faulty lighting. In this hallway, the lights flickered in intervals of 3 seconds. Finding a pattern and timing her movements, she rushed the sniper at the exact moment the lights went out. Running the length of the hall, Gracia zigzagged, dodging the sniper inmate's bullets. She jumped on a wall, ran 3 feet on it, then kicked off it, pouncing on the assailant. She fired five shots into him, making sure to hit the brain and the heart. Two severe injuries that were impossible for Shinigami essence to heal simultaneously. Elsewhere, Evans took on another escaped inmate. A vehicular arsonist named Carson. Carson had a bag filled with an assortment of different grenades and was happily giving them out like candy on Halloween. "A flash bang here, a bit of tear gas there. Oh. Wait! Was that an ice grenade? Did the explosion freeze your leg to the floor? Whoops. Maybe a fire grenade will melt that for you. Hold on let me get one fore you," Carson rambled gleefully. Evans looked at the carnage before him. Officers burning. Officers partially frozen in blocks of ice. He took a breath and aimed his wristgun. He steadied his right forearm. Carson readied to throw a random grenade. Evans shot it the moment it left Carson's hand. The grenade exploded directly in front of Carson. Both Evans and Carson looked at each other in shock. Confetti. A party grenade? Carson quickly fumbled for another but was tackled and restrained by several officers. Meanwhile in the South wing, Lary had some colleagues set a trap for another shotgun toting inmate. He had them bait the inmate and flee. Giving chase he turned a corner and ran straight into Lary's fist. The inmate recovered and motioned to shoot Lary. "Let's tango. " Lary gave the code word. Nearby officers activated a device. A signal jammer of sorts. The inmate shoved the barrel of his gun into Lary's gut and pulled the trigger. Nothing. The special signal jammer in question was designed for firearms. It was a last resort as it left officers just as defenseless. Lary was having fun. He boxed the inmate in hand to hand combat. Despite the inmate's enhanced strength, Lary's technique pulled through. Lary ducked under one of the inmate's wide punches and did some type of rising uppercut where he jumped off the ground while spinning. One of the other officers whispered" The rising dragon." Lary smiled giving a thumbs up" Yeah, it was a rising dragon uppercut. Saw it in one O my kid's vidya games. Thought I'd try it out while I'm jacked on adrenaline".
Jim Jimenez looked long and hard at himself in the mirror. He was in the women's restroom. Some brainless woman had broken the men's restroom mirror with her face. For the first time in a long while Jim could think clearly. He was becoming sane. At the least he was no longer a raving lunatic. The life essence of the dark gods had healed the wounds to both his body and his mind. He saw his face, his scraggly dirty beard. He found a razor and shaved. He trimmed his beard somewhat. He liked it. He washed his hair. It fell down his face like silk, no longer greasy. His bloodshot eyes once burning with crazed intensity had cooled. He blinked. Just for a second, he saw the man known as Genocide. The man that attacked him. The one that killed him and gave him new life. The drug dealers. The police. They were all the same in his eyes now. They were all to blame for the world being what it is. Jim wanted to hate them. He wanted to take revenge, but he felt nothing. It didn't matter. He knew he was wronged, could logically justify acting against them, but he just didn't care anymore. About anything. He was finally free. Sensing his presence was no longer needed here, Jim vanished into the night. He needed to find someone who had had the answers he needed. Himself. Who had he been? Who was he now? Who could he become? Where was he going? So many questions to ponder indefinitely. So much time left in the rest of his life.
Genocide ran down the station's halls raining hailstorms of bullets upon its occupants. He had a handgun in each hand as well as a wristgun on each wrist. This effectively gave him 4 separate firearms that he could use simultaneously. Lary regrouped with Gracia, Evans, and a handful of others. They radioed all surviving officers near Genocide to flee to the roof. This plan had been set in motion days before the assault and had been kept hidden from most of the force. The plan involved scheduling flights for several helicopters to arrive at some point after Genocide arrived. There would be no way for him to prepare for them and pre-scheduling their arrival ensured they arrived regardless of if they were called or not. Lary and the others set about preparing the second jamming device. Genocide stood among a hallway of bodies. He saw one man clinging to life trying to crawl away. He decided on trying that other thing he saw his master do. He grabbed the dying man and pinned him to the wall. Slowly he drove a knife into his chest. As the man's life slipped away, something else entered his body. Genocide channeled a small amount of his essence into the vessel. He had steadily done this with other casualties around the station whose bodies were somewhat salvageable. He dropped the body he was holding and looked upon the others. He closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, his eyed were black, both sclera and iris. The scene before him changed. Genocide had a vision. He saw a dead gray wasteland littered with bodies. These people however weren't cops and wore traditional Japanese attire. In his hand wasn't a gun or knife but a short sickle akin to a farming tool. He heard a dark voice call out to him. Slowly, the corpses around him began to rise, now mere puppets bound eternally to their master's whim. The bodies sold to the reaper who had claimed their lives. Genocide's vision ended. His eyes had returned normal. Around him, dead cops began to rise. His dark essence had entered their bodies and reanimated them. He sent his dead army to attack the officers fleeing to the roof of the station. These zombies swarmed the stairwell giving chase to the few survivors. There were five of them. They had two flights of stairs to climb and a horde of their former colleagues close behind them. One officer tripped and was set upon by the horde. The zombies didn't bite them but held them firmly in place. The other four officers stared down wondering what to do. They could hear Genocide chuckling. They could hear humming. They could feel the temperature rising. Their colleague and the two zombies holding him were hit by an enormous green fireball. Genocide had fired a Magnum Opus and had charged the bullet to level 3. The Magnum Opus was simply a magnum that shot fireballs, with bullets that could be charged by holding down the trigger. It had three levels of charges. Level 1 was a small reddish ball of plasma. Level 2 was slightly larger and yellow. Level 3 was the maximum charge and resulted in a large slow moving green blast of energy. The officer was ignited and Genocide watched gleefully as the force of the blast sent him flying through a wall. The four officers continued up firing occasionally to slow down the zombies. Soon they made it to a door leading to the roof. Before one officer could reach it, he was sniped by Genocide, a bullet to the head killing him instantly. The remaining three made it out. They regrouped with the others already there, 12 in total, including Lary, Evans, and Gracia. This would be their final stand. They just had to hold out until Genocide made it up there. They just had to keep Genocide occupied until the helicopters arrived. Genocide slowly ascended the stairs behind his horde. On the roof, the remaining survivors faced off against waves of the undead. Evans recognized the attackers. These zombies were being controlled by nanomachines. He heard the stories of several weapons encountered by soldiers on the battlefield. These creatures were called Metaldeads as they were reanimated via machines. They had been officially banned by most of the worlds' governments for being unethical. However, this did not stop the technology from being spread still between shady organizations, terrorists, etc. Evans wondered how Genocide got this form of nanotechnology. Evans long speculated that the dark essence used by most of the killers they encountered was a a form of nanotech however it was different from anything else he had seen or heard about. The dark essence seemed to be an amalgamation of other types of nanotech. Evans had to save his inquiries for later. He reloaded his wristgun and took aim at the approaching group of Metaldeads. Gracia steadied her handgun and shot two Metaldeads in the head. From the single door countless arms seemed to spill forth from the darkness. The other officers took turns firing in intervals. this allowed them to create a steady stream of fire where no more that three guns needed to be reloaded at once. The horde seemed to thin out over time as if they were making progress. In actuality, the Metaldeads were just making room for Genocide to enter. Genocide exploded in a sprint from the door. Everyone fired upon the killer. Genocide had now chosen a wrist mounted mini flamethrower to use as his weapon. He stormed past the oncoming bullets taking some damage, but refused to slow down. He unleashed a stream of fire that caught five of the officers in one fell swoop. Gracia fired five rounds into Genocide's face. He stumbled back. Lary took the chance to fire several mine gun bullets at Genocide's feet. The mines quickly detected his movement and exploded. In seconds, Genocide was on his back.
Staring at the night sky Genocide saw the moon. He reached for it. He called for the darkness to give him more power. His wounds began healing. In the sky he could hear the whirl of propellers. There were six helicopters in total. The first two had evacuated the survivors while the others stayed to engage Genocide. Genocide got up and unstrapped the sniper rifle from his back. He stood before the searchlights as a black silhouette, cornered but unwilling to back down. Lary stared down at him smiling. "Okay!" He shouted, "Let's Tango!" Upon this declaration the second jamming device was activated. Now, isolated on the roof, Genocide's guns couldn't be fired and the helicopters were out of range of the device. Now Genocide stood like a sitting duck. A helicopter fired a rocket. Genocide side stepped and grabbed it. He turned his body redirecting the rocket to hit another helicopter. As it exploded Genocide drew his knife and threw it at another helicopter. Behind the knife was such force that it shattered the helicopter window's glass, embedding itself in the pilot. This helicopter too went down where it exploded. "Holy clucknuggets!Did you see that!?" Lary said dumbfounded. Evans looked out the helicopter door he was in jaw open in shock. "There's no way." He collected himself quickly and radioed the remaining two helicopters to keep moving and to use their machineguns as much as possible. The helicopters reigned down upon Genocide tearing apart his body. Shreds of leather and darkened blood sprayed across the pavement of the roof. Gracia watched as Genocide's body was destroyed repeatedly as it tried to heal. Surely he had to stop at some point. After 10 minutes the helicopters had exhausted their cache of ammunition and soldiers opted to fire their own rifles and occasionally throw grenades. After about six minutes, they too had run out of bullets. Genocide stood unfazed. He had long since healed himself and now appeared intangible with gunfire seeming to pass through his body. His coat once ripped , now appeared whole though on closer inspection seemed to writhe. Gracia looked in horror as she remembered the tales her adopted father had told her. Tales he had in turn heard from his predecessors. Every so often officers had reported encounters with ghost like beings cloaked in a cloud of living dark mist. The beings were rumored to be responsible for the deaths of multiple people ranging from scientists, veterans, mafia, politicians, etc. They were seen near such crime scenes and even more shockingly appeared around several sites where suicides were committed. These beings were reportedly impervious to bullets and filled anyone who got near with an impending sense of dread. If Genocide was connected to them or somehow turning into one , there was little chance they would be able to defeat him. Gracia's fears were confirmed when she saw that Genocide's leather coat had been destroyed and he had replaced it with the dark mist coalescing from his own spilled blood. The dark mist, swirling, grew larger and several tendrils sprouted out from it. Gracia could briefly make out a figure standing next to Genocide. A hooded figure cloaked in the same black substance. The figure stared up at her with soulless, blackened eyes which seemed to beckon her to jump from the aircraft she was standing in. Compelling her to give in to the death that plagued the earth. Genocide kneeled to his master. The Shinigami, Masataka stared down at his disciple. "You have done a great service to us. Even now the sealed god stirs in its slumber. Its...Awakening will soon be upon us. It calls out for war. It begs for famine. It longs to continue its conquest. We are the death it so desires. The death that is necessary for this civilization to grow. Use the power that I have bestowed upon you. Finish the mission as you see fit." The Shinigami vanished and Genocide stood.Genocide stared at his hands. He remembered the first killing spree. He was on a bus. It stopped. A woman got on the bus and walked to the back smiling as she passed him. Something about her eyes unnerved him. They were so bright but something dark reflected inside them. He ignored the thought and put in his headphones. In minutes he had dozed off. He jumped awake. He looked around and froze in panic. All around him, everyone had been hacked to pieces. He saw the driver, actively being stabbed by a masked assailant. The mask, painted white with black eyeholes, stared back at him. It raised a finger over where its lips would be. Even under the expressionless visage, he could feel that same smile. He ran home that morning. He went to his room to find it destroyed. His posters, his computer, his tv, everything, had been ruined. He turned around and saw a man at the end of the hallway holding a sledge hammer. "The hell you been, boy?", his stepdad sneered. The man dropped his hammer and walked closer, veins pulsing with rage. He tried to explain how his car had caught fire forcing him to walk 4 miles to the nearest bus stop, but the man's fist was faster than his words. "Boy!Answer me when I talk to you!!" the man says as he backhands the taste out of the would be Genocide's mouth. He took that beating for several minutes before being left to stare at his ransacked room. He hated how his stepdad went out of his way to destroy the things he loved. Soon, another set of footsteps could be heard. It was his mother standing behind his locked door. She didn't knock, or say anything. She just stood there, doing nothing as always. He never knew if she came to talk to him or apologize. All he knew was that she could never bring herself to speak to or even acknowledge him. Maybe out of guilt or perhaps shame. A year or two later after he had had enough he ran away from home. Living out on the streets alone, without friends, or family, he would embark on countless killing sprees. These killings weren't of his own volition however. He was coerced by some corrupt officers from The Unit. They made him kill on their behalf. Sometimes they were protesters, sometimes they were drug dealers, other times, petty criminals they couldn't be bothered to process. It was routine for him to be used to kill entire houses of drug riddled addicts. During one such venture he entered a drug den, killing the dealer as instructed. He took out several junkies before turning to leave. A woman who survived her injuries clung to his heel begging him to stop. Looking down he aimed the handgun he was carrying at her head of long disheveled brown hair and fired. Feeling nothing, he kicked her body aside like trash when it hit him. Her face. This woman had been his mother. What was she doing in a place like this? He felt a shock of emotion. He wondered if she had always been like this, or had she changed after he left. He never made amends, but decided to stop killing from then on. The unit did not like that. Once it became apparent that he was no longer of use to them they started a manhunt to apprehend him with lethal force. They found him. They killed him. But he survived.
He remembered the girl on the bus. He remembered her eyes. Those of a sadistic killer. Still there was something else inside them. Something faint but deeper. So. Much. Sadness. Just like him. He felt the hatred begin to spread. His purpose, he decided, was to make all humans rot in the hell they created for him.
These people, he thought to himself, these living diseases, all needed to die. Their struggles, their problems, they spread like cancer to others. The only cure for humanity's sin, its collective wrongdoings, was genocide.
Around him, dark tendrils continued to form and expand, spinning in a vortex. Genocide pulled out two pistols. He squeezed the triggers to no effect. "As I see fit, huh? Hehe." He squeezed both guns in his hands, breaking them into pieces. He concentrated. In his hands, two more guns materialized now completely black due to being forged from the dark essence. Forged by his will. Immune to the jamming device that shut down conventional firearms. He raised his arms at each remaining helicopter and opened fire. Countless tendrils whipped out and slashed at his targets joining the dark essence bullets. It was chaos. Dark tendrils and bullets tore through every direction as Genocide spun and swirled around in 360 degrees firing randomly with purpose. A tendril pierced Gracia's right arm, another, her abdomen. She was however, fortunate, as the other passengers of her helicopter were dismembered. She barely had time to jump from the vehicle before it crashed. She fell 2 yards onto solid concrete. She felt immense pain as her right shoulder shattered on impact. She looked up to see Genocide's blade like appendages ripping through the other escape helicopters. She rolled onto her back and tried to steady herself. Within seconds her body began to repair itself. The nanocells inside her had saved her life but were now depleted. She would need another supplement lest she receive another fatal injury. The standard nanocells she and the others had were much less potent than those of the killers they faced. In truth, they had only minimal strength boosts being able to lift 5-8 more pounds than before and healing being limited to one or two fatal injuries so long as death didn't occur instantly. Gracia blacked out. She awoke the next morning in a hospital. There the doctors refilled her nanocells. She learned that the station had been left in ruins. Genocide had detonated some type of minature nuke following his rampage. He always blew up the stations as if to send a message. Gracia looked out the window thinking about why she became a cop. Twice her family had been murdered by them. Her biological family had been killed in an on record drug raid committed by a group of corrupt officers called The Unit. She had been adopted by another officer that arrived at the scene who found her as a child hiding in a closed. Sadly, he too was killed for trying to expose the activities of The Unit. Gracia joined the force to avenge both losses and bring justice to the killers that disguised themselves as normal people. Law enforcement was neither good, nor bad. It depended upon the people that made it up. In the dying corrupt world Gracia lived in, she vowed to be a beacon of light. Evans laid in a bed adjacent to Lary. "That damn Genocide's somethin else in' he?Like the stories you told us were understatements. That man could legit not die at this point in the story. Like he has friggin plot armor or somthin.'' Evans cut him off" I get it. We all got our asses handed to us. But did you see that ..thing that appeared next to him. Right before he created that black vortex that wiped us out. That must have something to do with his power. Maybe there's a still a way to stop him."Lary chimed in," That fella looked like he was on the way to a black metal concert wit all the black facepaint he was wearin' Creeped me out to be honest." As the survivors mulled over their predicament, the cycle of evil continued to spread elsewhere.
Budley flips through the pages of a magazine. He checks his watch. He looks around the gas station and doesn't see any customers. Seizing the opportunity, he puts in his headphones and begins playing an imaginary guitar as he jams to a progressive deathcore album. Oblivious to the screams coming from outside, the store clerk moves on to thumping two candy bars on the counter to simulate drums. Budley sees that his shift has ended and begins locking up the store. He sweeps the aisles and jumps as a shadow appears behind him. He turns and sees a well groomed bearded man dressed in a black hoodie, black shirt, and black and gray camo pants. The man holds out his hand and smiles. Budley rings up the pack of nicotine substitute gum. "Tryin to kick the habit huh?" Budley asks. The man replies, "Somethin like that. Gotta get my priorities back in check. Focus on the things that really matter. That damn KonCreep's a hell of a band aren't they?" He nods to the playlist on Budley's phone. "Yeah, they're killer. just got into them a month back." Budley answers. "You know, I'm something of a musician myself. Maybe you'll hear of me on the news someday." Jim Jimenez says as he sees himself out. He walks to the back of the building and passes an ominous form of graffiti. A woman lays unmoving and above her, written on concrete in red is a message that simply says "Genocide Reigns".

Bartlett continues telling a fantastic story with Queen’s Catacombs, continuing the role reversal and a masterful story on classism and sexism.

Storytelling

What I loved most about this novel is the role reversal in the novel. The women are the knights; they hold positions in court and are the ones with power. I loved seeing this because it really puts things into perspective. There are discussions on men’s rights, which is humorous because that’s not the reality. But it makes one think about power and how having it without equality affects how the ruling class or party makes its rules. Who are they protecting? Why are they making the decisions they are making?
The role reversal is an exciting spin.
But there is also this spin on sexism and feminism. While women have the power, some are more adept at tearing others down than lifting one another up. Any reader will be familiar with this theme. But Bartlett does an excellent job of showcasing both the good and the bad.
Jacs has a small circle of friends who lift her up, stand by her side, and give her the support she needs in this uncertain time. And Jacs reciprocates. But then you have those looking down on her because she was from below.
Jacs tried to bring about equality by allowing the spy glasses to be destroyed, giving the people some semblance of privacy and control over their own lives. Unfortunately, those in power are tricky, and it worked against Jac’s home. Furthering the rip between those with power and those without it.

Final Thoughts

Bartlett did a fantastic job of tackling social topics within Queen’s Catacombs, a story that began as a retelling of Jack and the Beanstalk has become so much more.

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Genocide Reigns
(note: I'm an indie game developer making an action/horror title called Phantasphere. This story is a spin off set in the same universe)
Year 2480X Ryze County Police Department
He's coming. The ensuing panic spread like a virus infecting all present with symptoms of looming dread. Officers worked steadfast to prepare also taking what time remained to train the few combat hardened civilians whom had fled to the station earlier. If only they knew. This demon that presented itself as a man had led a string of senseless massacres across the country. Only recently had it begun to prioritize police stations and army bases as a means of breaking the will of civilians who knew they would be next. Officers from several counties across the states were transferred here for this last stand. This Genocide must not continue. Gracia checked her pistol. Some 20 bullets remained. "I can do this", she thought, "I have to". She had dealt with similar cases before. Some poor soul is overtaken by some inextricably evil force and makes it their life's work to propagate death. Gracia had killed quite a few already. Live arrests weren't always possible. Beyond saving, careful interrogations of the scarce live catches yielded a startling connection. These killers all alluded to a well of overwhelming hatred and despair that consumed them after making eye contact with...Pale, black eyed entities. Some type of demon? Ghost maybe? The idea seemed nonsensical, but there was evidence nonetheless that some outside force was using them to fulfill some unknown purpose. At the present time, all they could do was stop the killers after they had killed. It was always too late by then and more would appear randomly elsewhere. What good could be done here in an isolated station hoping to stop one guy out of possibly hundreds? "The guy we're waiting for is different from the others," detective Evans spoke from the center of a crowd nearby. Gracia moved in closer. "The others typically strike from the shadows, hide their faces behind masks, and prefer to get up close and personal with their victims. What we're dealing with is on a completely different scale. The trail of bloodshed this guy leaves is too difficult for the media to cover up. He loves the spectacle. Headlining the news. We can't keep using the burst pipeline excuse for 6 stations being destroyed in a row. We have to stop him before the world at large finds out. You wonder why we need so many people here? Its simple. We're gonna out-man this one man. He always attacks stations through the front door. Like other killers he's fast, strong- you know the usual, but he also uses guns." "What!", a voice rang out from the crowd. "They aren't supposed to do that!" another gasped. Officer Lary spoke with a cheesy grin" Ya tellin' me we just gotta deal with a regular ass gunman eh? That's a welcome change of pace init? Heck I'm too old to be running around being chased like I'm in some scary movie". The detective rebutted" You don't get it. He uses guns. Not a handgun, not rifles, not boom sticks, not rpgs, not knives not grenades but ALL of them. He uses guns. Plural. It'll take essentially an army to match his arsenal. He used to be a man named -redacted-, but in his pursuit of chaos he has become Genocide." A dark form manifests from the night outside the station. Genocide is coming.
Bang! something slams into the front door. Everyone freezes. Officer Tatum edges slowly to it, shockgun in hand. By no means lethal, the shockgun was lighter, easy to control, and could stun targets temporarily. If Genocide was here, Tatum could stun him and duck for cover leaving the station free to light him up like a Christmas tree. That was the plan they came up with. He got closer to the glass door and peered outside. He was met with hate filled bloodshot eyes framed by an unkempt beard and wild straggly hair. Tatum felt some relief. He knew the man outside. It was Jim Jimenez. Jim was a former drug dealer turned informant. He was found out and had to flee from his old life. He became homeless, hiding in plane sight. This allowed him safety at the cost of his mental health. Tatum knew the man, but those eyes were not his. Tatum blinked and saw that the look of malice had vanished. What he instead saw was a helpless, wounded man, bleeding from the right arm pleading for help. Tatum looked behind Jim, eyeing the empty lot. The coast seemingly clear Tatum unlocked the door and let Jim in. Jim had been roaming the town looking for shelter and tried squatting in an abandoned looking apartment complex. There he found that the building contained several murdered families some succumbing to gunshots but the majority having met their end to fire and suffocation. Jim had decided to make his way to the station to tell police what happened and met trouble on the way. He described getting stabbed by a man wearing a trench coat with long dark hair. Despite the injuries, Jim could move surprisingly well and seemed to ignore the pain. Jim insisted that the man had spared him on the condition he deliver a message. "What message?" Tatum asked. Jim beckoned him to come closer. Tatum leaned in and Jim whispered, "Tell them. Tell them that Genocide is coming closer." The following events were a blur. Jim had concealed the knife he was stabbed with. He stabbed Tatum 4 times in the chest and wrestled his shockgun away. Using Tatum as a shield, Jim engaged everyone in the lobby. Jim wasn't himself. He was stronger. He was faster. He was tactical. He would stun an officer in place only to stab them and use their as a body shield. No one could get a clear shot without hitting a colleague. Gracia watched the scene unfold. In minutes Jim had acquired a magnum from the holster of one of his victims. In seconds 3 officers had their heads exploded. The magnum rounds coated the walls red with those they hit and stained the clothes of those they missed. Gracia felt fear rising in her chest. She calmed herself and tried to think. She saw the bodies on the ground. The blood. She saw how dismissively Jim stepped over them. Like they were nothing. Like trash. She saw the man firing erratically into groups of people, not so much to kill but as to cause panic. That's it! As Gracia contemplated her next move it hit her. She was knocked backwards and landed on the ground. She weakly clutched her chest. Her breathing grew shallow. Jim mad his way deeper into the station. The officers were retreating from their standoff. Jim stepped over her body and saw red staining her uniform. Just another casualty. He moved on. At this point the civilians began panicking. Everyone gave up trying to save their allies and fired blindly at the madman. "Don't shoot the messenger," Jim laughed as he stripped his latest meat shield of an automatic rifle. Detective Evans took cover behind an overturned desk. To his left Larry struggled to light a cigar. "You still think this is a cakewalk?" Evans shouted firing 2 quick shots from his gun before ducking back down. Lary lost hold of his lighter and it clattered on the ground." Crap." He reached for it and looked in the corner of the room. A mirror. He looked at it for what seemed like ages and his smirk returned " Y'know that mex'n gal with the short hair. Where is she? I didn't see her get shot." Evans glanced a peak at Jim spraying lead in all directions. Behind him was a corpse. Evans blinked. It seemed to be getting closer. Its her. Gracia painstakingly inched her way into Jim's blind spot. She was roughly 6 feet away from him. Flanking him seemed like a brilliant idea but waiting idly by for the right moment as the people around her died filled her with anger. Worse still, she had to steal a blood soaked shirt from one of the deceased officers to keep up the facade. Inching ever so steadily she mad it within 3 feet of Jim. She reached behind her belt and unclipped a pair of handcuffs. Screams could be heard as more people were hit. Gracia couldn't wait any longer. Fluidly she got to her feet and rushed Jim. She kicked the back of his knee causing him to stumble as she put the handcuffs on him. Figuratively. The handcuffs were around Jim's neck. She yanked him back causing his gun to drop. "You don't know what you're doing." Jim spat. "We all need to accept it. The end of days is upon us. Death rides his horse through these forsaken lands. We must serve or be sacrificed in turn. Accept it!"He elbowed Gracia in the ribs causing her to let go. He spun around and lunged at her. She landed on her back, Jim steadily choking her. Gracia thought fast. She couldn't struggle. Jim was too strong. She delivered a precise chop to the center of Jim's neck which was exposed. Jim lurched back to catch his breath. A clean shot. A bullet pierced through Jim's back. Weakened, Gracia rolled him over and began punching him repeatedly using the handcuffs as brass knuckles. The sound of Jim's skull cracking echoed through the station. This would go on for nearly 20 seconds before Gracia stopped, checked his pulse, confirmed Jim was still alive, then finally put the cuffs on Jim's wrists.
Click. Bodies are wrapped and moved to a makeshift storage room. Click. The available weapons are gathered and redistributed. Click. Officers are assigned to sniping positions on neighboring buildings. Click. Police cruisers circle the lot outside. Click. In the holding cell, Jim opens his eyes. Click. Lary flicks his lighter. Click. Gracia sips coffee from a paper cup. Click. Shells hit the ground at the feet of Genocide. Click. Genocide walks outside a cafe and looks at the station in the distance. Click. Lary clicks his lighter.
"All ya'll gon' fall," Jim ranted." You can't drain the ocean. You can't put out the sun. Evil will always exist. That there Genocide is proof . I saw him. Saw myself within his eyes. Saw the evil in me that I could no longer try to hide. He taught me to embrace the darkness within. Its in all of us begging to be let out. Can you hear it!" Lary clicked his lighter and got up from his chair. He grabbed a cup of liquor from another officer mid sip and walked over to Jim. He doused it on Jim, the liquid stinging his open wounds. Jim yelped. Across the station, radios blurred to life. Several of their lookouts on the outside had been killed. "He's gon' get ya," Jim smiled imitating Lary's signature grin. "Genocide! Genocide! Genocide!" The other inmates saw the chance to irritate Lary and joined in all shouting in unison,"Ge-No-Cide! Ge-No-Cide! Ge-No-Cide!" The chanting grew louder. Unbearable. They invoked upon the name of the beast, and so it came.
Genocide is upon us. A wave of dread spread across the officers. They could feel its presence. Gracia knew the sensation. The awful aura that the other killers gave off. This was different. Far more oppressive. She struggled to breathe as the air got colder. Her instincts screamed for her to run. She could only imagine what the others were going through. Its time. Across the lot Genocide stood. A siren blared over the intercom. "Everyone get into positions!" Evans yelled. Wayne finished setting the last of the c4 near the station entrance. "That's the last of them. Have remote triggers set around all the major hallways. I'll be in the security room ready to pull the switch." Wayne acted as an explosives expert. His job was to detonate bombs placed throughout the station to slow down Genocide should it enter the building. He would stay in the security room, monitoring the cameras and giving real time updates on the officers' positions. From the holding cell, inmates chanted for Genocide. Lary got off his phone" That bastard mixed us up. How did we not notice?" Evans asked what he meant. Lary, dumbfounded, said that most of the town was already dead. Genocide had broken his usual pattern. He went on a killing spree across a defenseless town BEFORE attacking the police station. They had let everyone down. The people they swore to protect. This Genocide was a monster, but he was still a man. Capable of learning from his past actions. Planning. Adapting. It wasn't in his style to stealthily kill his victims or even use a silencer on any of his guns, but an exception had been made for tonight. An exception that would cost them. Gracia was stationed on the second floor. She peered out the window. Her heart skipped a beat. Two cruisers made slow donuts patrolling the lot and standing unmoving between them was a man all in black. Gracia called in to Wayne asking if he saw anything outside. Wayne said the monitors were all clear then checked again. He cursed. He noticed small details were off. The cameras showing the outside of the station were wrong. Sure they showed the same scenery and weather but cars passed by on screen too frequently for a dead town. Too many to make sense for the quarantine they had set in place. Wayne concluded that the cameras had been hacked. Different prerecorded footage was being shown on the live feed to misdirect them. Gracia saw the man look up at her. A light rain started to fall. The officers patrolling outside were contacted. From the holding cells, inmates called for genocide.

I (30M) am interested in a 23F. This started when my friend mentioned me while talking to her and sent some pictures, to which she replied that I was good looking. So he sent me some of her pictures, with her telling him to send me some concrete pictures and I told him she was gorgeous and that if she was interested he could give her my phone number. So he did and she wrote me in WhatsApp. To clarify, I've only talked to her in WhatsApp and she is the best friend of my friend's girlfriend.
We started to talk and have good conversation. I was told by my friend that this girl broke up two months ago after a two year relationship but my friend asked me the first day already if I'd like to have a romantic relationship with her, while she has stated in numerous times since then that she needs time to heal from that break up. That first day I talked to her about this circumstance and told her that I didn't bother to chat with her and that I didn't want to speed up anything.
But after a week or so I was uncomfortable with the situation because my friend was asking everyday "how it's going with her" or insisting that I talk to her after a one day absence while I wasn't seeing any signals from here that she was attracted to me so I told her that my friend had messes up things and that maybe we shouldn't chat further. She got mad and blocked me but my friend talked with both, convinced me that she was interested in me, so she unblocked me and we continued to talk.
After that, we continued to talk for another week and I started to like her more. But when she asked me to send her my reactions to her pictures from the first day, she just replied "thanks you". She didn't make me any compliment and eventually changed the subject of the conversation. She was still talking to my friend about me and sending him some of our conversation screenshots.
That made me a bit angry so I told her that she could be confident with me and that she didn't have to tell everything to my friend. I also tell her that I was told by my friend that she was attracted to me but I wasn't being given any signals by her of this. She insisted that she was post break-up and that she wasn't going to simply fall in love.
I talked to my friend and his girlfriend and they told me that I needed to go slowly but I replied that I was doing that from the start, but that I needed something to keep me interested in that possible relationship and that I was knowing of all that supposed interested by her from what he was telling me, not directly by her.
They tried to convince me of her interest by telling me that she wouldn't have unblocked me the previous time if she wasn't interested, or chatting me everyday when she works Mon-Sat during almost all day. Or about her will to meeting me in person. I told them that I was going to continue talking to her but that I'd lose romantic interest if time passes without any signals from her.
So I decided to continue chatting with her and so I did. More than a week after that, I chat with her more than before and I think we're develop in trust and good feeling but I don't see any signals of that supposed attraction or interest in having a romantic relationship with me. Talking about favourite colors she took the chance to send me some groul pictures with her and he again replied my moderate compliments with "thanks you". I sent her some group pictures where I was present and she didn't say anything about my appearance and also changed the subject of the conversation.
This girl continuously talks about her best friend's relationship and all her boyfriend does for his friend. She is very close to her friend and they share everything. She mentioned his ex boyfriend negatively a few times as well , as her break up was a very bad one as she was cheated on by her ex. There has been always the conversation about meeting me in person but she doesn't have much time, she uses to spend her only free day in the week with her family.
So now I'm wondering what she really wants because some of my friends are telling me that my friend has been confusing things and that she probably only sees me as a colleague while my friend keeps talking about that possible relationship and her supposed interest in having one with me.
She cried when I was talking about stopping talking with her and told my friend that I didn't know what I was missing by doing that. When talked by my friend about my negative past experiences with post break up girls she told him that she wasn't like the others. She has a personalized background in our conversation in WhatsApp with her profile picture with a song about finding light in a new person after darkness. She always answers very fast and message by message to me and has developed a lot of confidence because she has told me some personal experiences and private things about her best friend etc.
So what does she want?

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Hi, I am trying to create a mockup for a mural project on this wall using a flat stock image of an American flag. I would like to create "waves" in the fabric by using the natural light and shadows you can see in the image. I've been looking for ways to do this in photoshop and illustrator with no luck. Could I use AE to animate the highlights and shadows for the waves in the flag to correspond to where they are on the wall?

Throwaway account because I am more than embarrassed and I don’t want anyone that knows me to know what I’m going through..
Jesus.. I’m genuinely scared right now. I’ve been picking for years and I’ve had a feeling my septum was deteriorating, but I just now saw how bad it’s gotten. Every single day, multiple times a day I’ll have a nosebleed from picking the scab and crust out of the inner wall of my nose on my septum. It felt unusually thin if that makes sense, and I proceeded to put a pinky in each side of my nose to see if there was a hole. There is- it’s fairly large. I could feel my other finger through and through. Terrified, I shined a light into my nostril and I have a huge hole in the inner wall of my septum. I’m mortified, I don’t know what to do.. I realize I have an issue and I need to get it treated. I think this is the only thing that’s ever made me immediately stop. I’m so scared now to go to the doctors or anyone for the fear of questioning. Why did I do this to myself I am so scared and disgusted

———
I'm almost 30 and have one child who is 5 years old. I'm an OFW and coming home this month because my contract has ended. My child's father is a foreigner whom I met abroad. I came home to the Philippines when I got pregnant 5 years ago, and since then, I haven't seen my ex, but sometimes we communicate and he sends money. A lot happened while I was pregnant: I found out he already had a family and children, his business failed, he had many loans at the bank, and the pandemic made it impossible for him to return to the Philippines when I gave birth. I eventually accepted the reality that he deceived me. My Facebook account is locked, and my name is in Japanese to prevent him from finding me on social media.
Now, we are in communication again, and he sends money every month for our child. He said he tried to find me but couldn't. He claims he's financially stable now and wants to make it up to me and our child, and he mentioned that we could get married. His plan is to take us abroad where he works. He has already filed for leave in July because he is serious about coming home to see our child, and he has booked a plane ticket and hotel in advance.
My problem is that I am in a relationship. I had a boyfriend when I left the Philippines, and he has been waiting for me. Our relationship isn't perfect, and we often argue, but not because of other men or women. My boyfriend doesn't know that I have been communicating with my ex because he once said he would leave me if I did. (I know this is cheating, but don't judge.)
My dilemma is that I don't know whom to choose or what the right decision is. I don't want to deprive my child of the chance to know his real father, especially since he has started asking about him. Financially, I need his help because I'm not very good at earning money, and my ex doesn't know that I have a boyfriend. He doesn't care as long as we can be a family.
On the other hand, my boyfriend is almost 7 years younger than me. I never expected him to wait this long. He plans to return to school, and I'm afraid we might not be endgame. He has a tendency to say hurtful things. I remember once when I jokingly suggested he should support my child's education, he said, "How dare you? Someone else had the fun, and I get the responsibility!" He was angry when I teased him, but it hurt. He doesn’t cheat, but he says hurtful things, and I worry he might one day resent everything he has done for me and my child. I tell myself it’s because he’s young, but I can’t help but overthink that I might be making the wrong bet. I'm also scared because I read open letters about people on Facebook and TikTok, and I know of children who were neglected because their parents remarried. I fear my child might end up feeling the same way or not being accepted by my future husband’s family.
My child has met my boyfriend and thinks he is his father. But I'm waiting and hoping that my boyfriend will sometimes remember my child and check on him. During Christmas, he didn't think of giving or sending gifts for my child, but he did for his godchildren, saying he had no money. However, there was one time he bought school supplies when we were fighting, trying to prove he loved my child. I know it’s impossible for him to love my child as his own based on his personality, but I still hope. I don’t want to hurt him because he waited so long, or maybe I just don’t want to be blamed and called a cheater. He has said many hurtful things to me when he's angry, but I let them slide because I'm afraid of being left again. Maybe now it’s different because I have somewhere to go, and that’s my ex. I still don’t know what to do. All I know is that being a parent is hard. I don’t love my ex anymore, but I can sacrifice for the complete family that my child deserves.

That’s 60ish miles a day for 4 days counting sight seeing. Best part of the trip was the unknown! Worst part was when my rear wheel rack broke with a way to heavy bag to carry. Although I think it was meant to be cuz it happened just as I was entering Dana point, before that was a loooong stretch of nothing. There were four bike shops in like a mile of this little town. First two had nothing that would fit, it’s a bigger than normal bike. Im now standing in this strange town, trying to navigate this super heavy bag leaning on my seat as I hug it with one hand and steering the bike with the other barely able to walk cuz the bag keeps trying to fall off.. I decided to call the third shop to ask about their racks. Knowing I might have to scrap the trip and rent a SUV or pickup truck and drive my bike home. Third shop said they only had e-bike racks. Iv been wanting one of those but could never find one that fits. Well the guy explained their rack probably wouldn’t fit cuz they custom orders their bike frames at a different size than most. And of course they need to them have a rack custom made to fit. And the guy insisted it would not fit. Well I had a feeling, or maybe I heard something in his voice..I decided I was going to pass by and take a look. Well it just so happened that the size they order is a perfect fit for my bike! But, he looks and didn’t have any more in the back. It took some convincing and an extra 20 buck fee but I got him to remove a rack from one of his for sale bikes and I was finally on my way!! I was so happy, I got a much stronger rack and avoided something like a thousand bucks to rent a car with a one way drop off. Now well on my way and riding with much more confidence, the old rack would flex and rub my tire when I hit bumps..I was on a beach trail passing through San Clemente, quite a ways from the road, the path was blocked and close from a land slide. So I decided to walk this little dirt path near the Amtrak which quickly turned into solid rocks and water ruts and started getting smaller and close to the tracks. As I’m pushing through, dodging the occasional train and fighting the weight of my rig as it’s bumping and jumping all over the place from the uneven rocky slope bordering the tracks, I can’t help but realize how fortunate I was they all this happened the way it did and my rack broke exactly when it did. Otherwise I t most certainly would have broken on the rocks. And I would have been in a much worse situation! In conclusion after riding the I-5 fwy for about 7 miles cuz the military base wouldn’t let me pass their sacred lands…I made it to Oceanside!!! Final thoughts, I was surprised at how many people were screaming at me and talking smack and saying things like no bikes here! And get off the road! and even getting way to close to me. I’m not the guy that rides in the lane, if there’s no bike lane I’m either on the sidewalk or clearly in the parking lane trying not to “get doored”. I never imagined the costal roads were so bicycle intolerant. Iv always thought the coast areas were all about touring and bike riding. I had bought a mirror for the first time ever and I’m happy I did. It seemed that when people would see me looking at them in my mirror they would be more cordial and give me space. I guess bullies don’t like to be seen and only act from the shadows. That being said it was an amazing trip! I’m so proud of my body for not giving up and so fortunate to have just right amount of luck at just the right time! Next I’ll be riding to my favorite place in the world and where I hope to retire and die, Solvang Ca.
I don’t use social media and am to awkward to really have friends..I thought someone other than my mom should know my tale.
Ride on!!!!

timestamp: https://imgur.com/a/7L7HJtO
additional photos from previous listing: https://imgur.com/a/urwLv0k
paypal FF, zelle, venmo. More pics upon request. Not looking for trades unless TV is skewed in my favor!!! Please be patient with shipping as I work 12's so need to hit USPS on an off day. All items include complimentary golden retriever fur

• Kac skyscraper mount - shows some signs of use but in good shape overall $230
  
• MK12 MOD H URX4 upper - "cloneish" build of this - will probably regret getting rid of this but don't see myself buying a can for it in the near future. Received in trade, previous owner said the barrel has ~200 rounds through, all other parts were either new or low salt. I never put rounds through it, details are as follows
  
  • Cerro Forge Keyhole upper
  • KAC URX 4 13”
  • Bison Armory 16” SPR, bead blasted, bedded/shimmed by D.Wilson
  • MK12 gas block, Allen Engineering CollaBrake
  • Work done by D.Wilson: assembly and URX install, brake timed and installed with Rocksett, added knurled gas block screws, receiver face lapped, barrel feedramps polished, barrel shimmed and bedded to receiver, totaling ~$180 (not to mention the time/hassle spent hunting down parts). Asking what it was originally listed for - $945
• looking to sell locally in the south FL Palm Beach County area.
  
  • LBT wheeled load-out bag. Really sick bomb-proof bag, it is BIG, measures approx 31x23x14. NSW issued, older model (back from LBT's golden era). Easily fits several rifles, helmets, plate carriers, etc. Similar newest revision from LBT retails for around $500-600. Shows some signs of use and has dog hair etc but good shape overall. $70, $50 if you are willing to meet within 10 mins of me because I'm lazy. I've gotten a few quotes for users from the previous listing and they were all $60-110 - if you are willing to cover fees and have this shipped wrapped in heavy duty trashbags we can work something out
• magpul stock (i think this is the sl-k please see pics) - takeoff, never used $35
  

Have a customer with approx 16K gal pool. Has skimmer and main drain for suction side. But for return side on this decent size rectangular pool, there is a dual return on the deep end wall only, 2 jets that are in same spot byt about 1 foot above the other. It is an older pool, so maybe that explains what seems like a poor design choice, but is this fairly common for in ground pools? Most of the pools I see that are similar size or smaller usually have at least 3 return jets spaced out along multiple walls. As you can probably guess, the circulation and flow of this pool is.....well, lacking

I have struggled with the corner fireplace. The couch is too big. I know this, but it was a temporary solution ready to be replaced now. I need help with how to place furniture in this room. There is not another wall for TV, but it could be removed, although not ideal. One pic is walking in the front door where you see to the kitchen, the other is from the dining area toward the living room space. Open concept. I would like to keep the occasional chairs for reading and extra seating, but they can be moved around. Thanks to anyone who can geniously help me configure the room.