This post will be addressing Grusch’s ICIG whistleblower complaint, submitted May 2022. I feel there’s a lot of misinformation out there regarding the nature of that subsequent investigation, and it’s important to get to the actual substance of this stuff.
II’ll start with breaking down this post: * The limited jurisdiction of ICIG * How the ICIG responds to UAP claims * Confirmed statements from officials * Breaking down what Grusch has said.
The Jurisdiction & Function of the ICIG To investigate complaints with relation to serious or flagrant problem, abuse, violation of the law or Executive order, or deficiency relating to the funding, administration, or operation of an intelligence activity..
We can refer to the ICIG statement of 12/08/2015 regarding their specific functions:

• To prevent problems and deficiencies related to the administration of programs and activities.
  
• Prohibitations [to ref ICIG’s jurisdictions] relate to such activities themselves to protect the security interests of the United States.
  

You can go through to the publications section of the ICIG website - Pages 3 & 4.
This means the core purpose of the ICIG is to investigate the professional and operational nature of intelligence programs. It’s a matter of administrative auditing, and ethical behaviour. They would not be investigating the veracity of Grusch’s whistleblower claims. It’s just not their function.
You can even go to their semi-annual reports as well where they are required to disclose or unclassify all cases.
“The ICIG shall, not later than October 21 and April 30 of each year, prepare and submit *unclassified** semi-annual reports summarizing their findings of *all investigations.”. Again, go to the publications section of the ICIG site.
Even for ongoing investigations they disclose all findings to date. None of the cases summarized in any of the reporting so far mention verify Grusch’s claims.
Here’s an example of the March Semi-Annual 2023 report. Go down to “Reprisal Investigations”. What officials say on Grusch’s NHI complaint in relation to the ICIG ------ 02/08/24 Senator Marco Rubio - Vice Chair of the Senate Intelligence Committee:
Matt Laslo: ”Are we gonna hear from those people whistleblowers within the senate?”
Marco Rubio: ”There’s a whistleblower complaint filed by one of them, and, ultimately, I mean, we haven’t spent a tremendous amount of time on it lately but I was hoping that’s what AARO would”. Source ------- 12/04/24 Senator Kirsten Gillibrand - Chairs the Subcommittee on Emerging Threats and Capabilities. Also sits on the Senate Select Committee on Intelligence.
Matt Laslo: ” Laslo asked Gillibrand, "Have you met with David Grusch yet?".
Kristen Gillibrand: ”No. We invited him to come, and I was supposed to meet with him and Dr. Kirkpatrick together. But they ultimately declined that meeting." Source.
Further.
Kristen Gillibrand: "But I can't assess them unless AARO can talk to them, because AARO knows what they know and what they've seen and what they've been shown." Source -----
The ICIG vs AARO
As much as people hate on AARO here, there’s a reason why they came to be in the first place. There was a gap with regards to investigating these sorts of claims, and that was understood following the 2017 NYTimes article on Elizondo. AARO’s and the UAPTF’s function wouldn’t be a necessity if the ICIG covered this area already. There was a gap concerning UAPs that precipitated the formation of subsequent investigative bodies. AARO’s responsibility covers the matter of UAPs by the historical review legislative language of the NDAA FY23. Both the ICIG and DoDIG have deferred to them in this area already. This is specifically why the actual chairs and participants of the Intelligence Committee (Rubio & Gillibrand) have deferred to them as well. I’ll refer right back to the ICIG website where you can read for yourselves. See the following:
2023 CONSOLIDATED ANNUAL REPORT ON UNIDENTIFIED ANOMALOUS PHENOMENA They outsource specific matters of UAPs and NHI’s via AARO’s reporting pipeline. Finally, under this particular point, I which to emphasize that there are no direct records from ICIG officials stating Grusch’s NHI findings are “urgent and credible”. As a matter of fact, it’s hard to find the Inspector General comment on the veracity of his direct claims himself. The sources for this claim come from Grusch’s associates themselves. Not direct from the ICIG.
It is true that as a matter of policy they find all complaints urgent and credible, but that is a general measure as a matter of employment misconduct. What has Grusch said on this matter
I’ll be honest, that while looking into this my automatic instinct was to blame Grusch for misleading on this matter. With that said, there are no direct statements where Grusch actually says the ICIG found his NHI claims credible. He never stated any such thing. As somebody who has experienced being misquoted, I can understand the same thing happening to Dave. Dare i say it he’s probably innocent, and we’re misquoting.
Here’s a particular quote: ”I trust in the investigative and law enforcement/criminal referral authorities ICIG has independent of DoD oversight."
Where does that leave the investigation?
I refer back to the Congressional Transcripts of the 07/26/24 Hearing. This was in relation to Grusch’s response to Anne Paula Luna:
Grusch: "I had a classified conversation [with Sean Kirkpatrick] in April 2022 before he took over AARO in July 2022 and I provided him some concerns I had....I was happy to give sage counsel to him on where to look when he took the helm of AARO."

Hej, ja som titlen siger så kunne jeg godt tænke mig at høre jeres mening omkring København vs Århus. For kontekst så overvejer jeg og min partner at flytte fra København til Århus. Der er et par pros og cons for begge, som feks er min kæreste expat og kan endnu ikke dansk. Her i København har det været svært at skabe venskaber, selv for mig der taler dansk. Vi er begge i slutningen af 20’erne og drikkefester ikke rigtigt længere, så eftersom at Århus er en universitets by med massere af unge, vil det da så være endnu mere umuligt at finde jævnaldrende, ikke-alkoholikere, måske endda lidt nørdede venner der? En af grundene til at vi overvejer Århus er at vi har hørt det er mere slow-paced og venligere folk.

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- - - - -
It had been a few weeks since Altier was brought to the run-down shack that his black-scaled companion likely called home, and he could now comfortably say he was accustomed to the…household’s routine. The kobold typically left at the crack of dawn, returned a little after noon, and occasionally left again to forage until nightfall. When the weather was bad or there wasn’t a particular need for something, they half-heartedly chased their rabbit around for a bit, which usually ended with a bout of quiet petting while everyone got ready for the night. It was always amusing to see the energetic side of what he had come to know as a relatively lazy loaf of an animal. As for the routine of the ferrorabbit in question… Well…it was at least more interesting than expected.
Hoppit would begin his own series of activities as soon as his caretaker left—the first of which being a check of every nook and cranny in the shed. He sniffed at anything that caught his interest, varying from morning to morning, but he gave every object or corner its due attention. Once he was satisfied with that, he would eat some of the ragged plants that made up most of his diet, take a drink from his bowl, then jump onto the tro— table and plop himself down, his ears pivoting towards the door. It was hard to say if the lounging spot had been established before Altier’s arrival, but it was somewhat amusing to pretend that the little rabbit was standing guard over his core—if it wasn’t for one particular part of the morning ritual, that is.
Indeed, the ferrorabbit had a habit of licking the obsidian orb that sat in the middle of the room, which thankfully didn’t seem to perturb the system enough to give Altier a headache. He was confused when it first happened, but it was commonplace enough now that he barely acknowledged it. A part of him liked that he was getting attention as a core, even if it was delivered via a strange grooming method. The closest he got to being acknowledged as something other than ‘the dungeon’ was through an unfortunate misunderstanding that he could never properly rectify. He supposed that was hardly worth thinking about now, though; too much time had passed for there to be anyone left to correct. The little oddity of his mornings would have to suffice.
There wasn’t much to comment on as far as the rest of the day’s happenings. Hoppit would end his loafing by shaking his head and ears in a way that filled the silence with soft clacks, give the core a customary tongue bath, then jump off the table to nose his way out of the shed through a hole that was hidden by the storage cart against the wall. Where the rabbit went was anyone’s guess, but he always returned before anyone noticed he was gone, and often did so while covered in small cuts and scratches. Any blood from the lacerations was quickly licked off before it could be seen by the kobold, and in the event that the scaly caretaker happened to return earlier than expected, Hoppit would scurry over to the bundles of blankets to finish the cleanup in secret.
Today looked to be following the usual pattern. The kobold left bright and early with various gardening tools and a wooden pail, and Hoppit had since set off into the great unknown for one reason or another. Hopefully, he returned less injured than usual. It was frustrating to admit that Altier had begun to grow rather fond of the fluffy creature, and seeing the thing come back hurt was bothersome. Was it off looking for food? There wasn’t a whole lot given to it, so that was a possibility, and it could be getting into fights over whatever it found. That still didn’t explain why the animal was so thin, and Altier didn’t have enough to go off of to think of a potential solution. He wanted to help it in some way, like by summoning a creature to act as an escort, or maybe just by manifesting something edible like he once could. No, he could only stare at the ‘Synchronizing…’ that occupied his menu, wishing he had more information to work with.
He never thought he would miss the bombardment of notifications and their lingering presence that filled the edge of his mental vision; at least with that he could surmise enough to hazard some kind of action. Even knowing why the menu was acting the way it did would be a start. Yet, try as he might, there wasn’t a history for him to reference anymore, and he had nothing to work with. He was confident the last message had asked him to ‘accept’ something, then took his befuddled ponderance as an answer, but he was no closer to an explanation for what it wanted, nor why it prompted him in the first place. He just didn’t have another experience to compare against, since nothing like that had ever happened before. Not that he was ever in much of a position to allow it.
The entire purpose of having Altier inhabit a core was for him to become a dungeon of Decay, which entailed all the skeletons, poisons, acids, and whatever else came to mind when one pictured the concept. ‘Living’ creatures were something he only had the chance to experiment with near the beginning of his new existence, though he never dabbled past the first few insects before transitioning to the mindless undead. Having a thinking, feeling, breathing entity touch his core was a rite reserved only for the adventurers and soldiers that bested his trials, and that was usually a painful experience. Now, he had spent what he could only guess was hours being held by a kobold, followed by having a rabbit bump against him, and neither felt like what he came to expect. Instead, both had led to a completely novel reaction from the system. The strange circumstances put him at a bit of a loss as to what it all meant for him.
Sure, he could dismiss the deluge of errors from his companion’s involvement by pointing to the numerous ‘corrupted’ messages before it, and Hoppit was a part of mostly unexplored territory, but the lack of clarity nagged at the back of his mind constantly. Being exposed to activity after potential decades or centuries of unchanging solitude made him despise the informational dead end. If he couldn’t make sense of the rabbit’s circumstances, then he didn’t have much hope of deciphering the reason for why his system was misbehaving so terribly. He also didn't know much about the one who owned the decrepit holdings he was housed inside.
He still wasn’t sure what drove the kobold to take him from the cave. His suspicion of becoming traded goods fell flat after the first week or so, and he hadn’t noticed any cult-like behaviour, which was promising. Granted, a lack of nefarious behaviour didn’t mean there was a lack of nefarious intent, but he didn’t get the impression his companion held that either. The kobold itself didn’t seem quite settled on an opinion of his core, though it was up for debate if the hesitation was due to knowing what he was or not. They seemed to mull something over before bed each night, yet never reached a satisfactory conclusion, staring at the obsidian orb through weary grey eyes until they eventually forced themselves into sleep.
Whatever the underlying reasoning for his abduction was, he had observed enough to know that the kobold didn’t deserve to live in destitution. As beaten as the shed might be, they cared for it as best they could, and did so without a single groan or grimace of complaint. The floors were cleaned with a tattered rag and fresh water, dust was removed regularly, and any stray mess that Hoppit made was dealt with promptly. They even took the time to wipe off his core, which was possibly where the ferrorabbit got the idea to start licking him. The only time Altier had seen discontent from the kobold was when they didn’t find much during their foraging, and thus couldn’t give any treats to the excited and bouncy herbivore.
He wasn’t aware that a creature’s face could make such a painfully broken expression, and he was quick to decide that he never wanted to see it again.
Vexingly, his metaphorical hands were tied; a dungeon could only influence their Domain, and given the state of his system, not even that option was available to him. All he could do was glare at the rotting wooden beams that held up the roof and remember when such an issue didn’t exist. It would have taken a mere flicker of thought and a paltry sum of mana to mend the struts when he was a proper dungeon. He could even outright reinforce the structure by weaving in other materials, leaving the appearance as it was while making everything stronger than iron. Well, he once could. Working with other affinities was something that came to him after absorbing the coloured motes left behind by adventurers, and the accursed stone that stole his mana had taken that ability as well.
An attempt was made anyway, his will ordering the deteriorated wood to absorb any trace metals from the ground, but it was no use. He couldn’t feel the iron or stones beneath the shed like he would have been able to before, all but confirming his suspicion that his connection to the Earth element had slipped away. Nature was much the same; the only way he knew when Hoppit had returned most days was from the subtle noise and the essence of injury. The other attributes—Air, Flame, Luma, Shadow, and so on—were ones he never experimented with to any real extent, so it was less noticeable when he lost his grasp on them. Perhaps they faded early. Either way, all he had left was a waning cognizance of his own alignment, and that wasn’t of much use to him. If he had any appreciable mana income, then perhaps he could do something, but he wasn’t even sure what the upkeep of his current Domain might be. It was entirely possible that he was running on a deficit, which would offer a reason for why his system had been so—
[Do#$@n Ex@#d$%^&d! CRe@#r H-H-H-HoPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP—]
[Errrrrrr—]
[Sy$%^hroni%^$zing…]
[Creeee-tu— Hoppit ha@$ esttttb-hed terrrrrrr-ity f^#% t$e dun@&$n!]
- - - - -
“Well then,” he mumbled to himself, taking in the strange scene behind the shed. For one, he could actually view a small distance beyond the structure now, and two, there was a rather proud-looking Hoppit sitting on his haunches before a pair of significantly less prideful examples of the species. They looked quite a bit bigger than the lazy loaf Altier had come to know, yet they were more cut up and dejected than his furry friend. That answered where the injuries had been coming from, he supposed. Hoppit was probably running off to bash heads with whatever animal population existed here beforehand, and they had only just reached a consensus on who was in charge. Impressive.
One of Hoppit’s ears turned back towards the shed, his head following suit as he gave a lagomorph’s approximation of a ‘Look what I did!’ smile. Altier blanked out mentally, but didn’t have time to question anything before the new leader of the local rabbits imperiously pointed a paw towards the surrounding forest, which was equally surreal to witness. Most surprising of all, the…subordinates? The other ferrorabbits did as commanded, keeping their forms small as they took off into the foliage. Soft clacks came from Hoppit’s pleased shake of his head, then he too left the area with only a slightly lopsided bounce to his stride.
The man-turned-core could only gape at what he saw. Were animals always so…expressive? Had Hoppit heard him? What in the world was happening? Why had Hoppit’s personal conquest led to Altier’s Domain expanding?
He lamented not having fingers, nor temples to rub with them. His system was a garbled mess of errors and inconsistent messages, his residence was falling apart at the seams, his companion was someone who abducted him from the dungeon, yet never did anything past that, and his first real experience with an animal was turning out to be more confusing than he thought possible.
All of this was after an unknown amount of time spent commanding legions of undead to strengthen the very people who he would later learn had lied to and manipulated him, making him into a nightmarish entity just to bolster the power of their forces. He almost missed the days spent gazing out of a mossy window. At least then he knew what to expect.
Nothing made sense anymore.
= = = = =
The soft sound of roots ripping free from soil suddenly stopped, only to be followed by a dull thud of Ceele’s palm slapping against the ground to catch her fall before she landed on her rear. She righted herself with her tail and tossed the stubborn weed into a pile with the others. No matter how many mornings she did this, they always seemed to replace themselves faster than she could remove the pesky things. A sigh slipped from her muzzle as she set about grabbing the next one embedded in the vegetable garden.
Aches and spreading stiffness flared up, but went ignored as she neared the end of her duties, though she was well aware that they would come back with force once she tried to settle down for the day. The impending soreness was an inevitable byproduct of spending so much time working. Still, she knew that if it wasn’t for the kindly old couple that allowed her to call their shed home, she would still be sleeping beneath the stars while making sure nothing tried to get at her Hoppit. Even if it was just a part of the deal, they were owed this much in return, and she would see it done properly.
The sun bore down on her back as she did her usual tasks, which was a departure from the slightly overcast weather as of late. It looked somewhat promising when she checked in the wee hours of the morning, yet as her gardening duties dragged on, so too did the intensity of such a clear sky. A disappointed glance at the empty wooden bucket on the edge of the field was quickly corrected. She hadn’t thought to refill it at the river after watering the crops, and her parched throat was making its protests known, while also reminding her that there wasn’t much water left at home either. One more thing to take care of when she was done.
A gruff cough brought her attention towards the old kobold resting his back against a tree some distance away, safely shaded from the unforgiving rays beaming down. Her displeasure at having yet more to do was hastily wiped away. She was undecided on what to think of the detached audience, but looking so sour while upholding her side of the agreement wouldn’t reflect well on her. Hopefully, he hadn’t seen it. Not that she could tell if he did; he always had the same expression when he watched her work. The elder kobold’s arms were crossed, a finger tapping absently against his bicep, while his tail sat motionless on the grass, the muddy red colour of his scales standing out amongst the greens and browns. ‘Makis,’ was his name, assuming her memory served.
Makis had taken to observing her every so often, usually propping himself against this or that at a distance, the unwavering scowl being as unnerving as it was belying of his age. Somewhat loose skin sagged a bit around his jowls and neck, yet the rest of his face was still taut from how much time he spent examining red-hot metal, and his arms were marred with countless burns and cuts from his profession. He held an oppressive aura, though the crinkles around his eyes and muzzle suggested he smiled as frequently as he glowered, even if Ceele was yet to see the former. There was only the same judgmental expression aimed at her when he was around. She could only hope that he didn’t take offence to some unintended slight, but she didn’t know him well enough to say what might be considered one.
They hadn’t spoken since she took up residence on the outskirts of his land. His wife was the one to introduce them, but it was quickly established that he had no intention of being a chatty individual. He led Ceele to the shed hidden amongst the trees on the edge of the property, then dismissed her with only a grunt coming from the elderly kobold. She supposed that it was for the best. Her experience in socializing was centred around convincing others to employ her, and there hadn’t been much of an opportunity to expand her horizons while living a life on the road. If that had been the end of their interactions, she would have swiftly written the terseness off, but he appeared every few days, taking up residence beneath the shade as he watched her work, never speaking a single word. At least he didn’t openly protest her presence, yet she figured that would be easier to manage. He wouldn’t be such an enigma then.
There wasn’t a whole lot she knew about him besides his penchant for ‘supervision,’ and anything beyond that was what his wife had volunteered during the rare opportunity they had to chat. She was told that Makis worked the smithy out front, and although he had retired from doing so in an official capacity, she could still regularly hear his hammer as she tended to the garden, so she figured he kept himself busy most days. It made her wonder what was so interesting about a vagrant like herself, but when there was so little else to do, she could see how anything could be made worth the attention. It was just him and his wife living in the once bustling home, after all; the couple’s children had long since grown up and made families of their own.
She noticed his gaze shift elsewhere as she tugged yet another stubborn intruder from the soil, his arms falling from across his chest and the perpetually worn displeasure melting to that of curiosity. He wandered off shortly after, and she had to make an effort not to fall onto her tail as the pressure on her shoulders unexpectedly evaporated. Did something happen?
Ceele shook her head free of the distracting thought. It wasn’t her business if he grew bored with watching her work. As long as no one voiced any complaints, she could only assume that she was doing a satisfactory job. Maybe he finally decided that he didn’t need to be so watchful because she was doing well! That could be it, right?
A glance at the somewhat sloppily maintained garden erased the false confidence from her face, but she was just as quick to focus on finishing up, unwilling to allow darker musings to fester. Thankfully, there didn’t seem to be anything else that needed her intervention. The weeds were all uprooted, the soil was appropriately dampened, and her check for pesky insects or wildlife turned up nothing to worry about. She was free for the rest of the day!
…Or she would be free—as soon as she finished the last of her tasks, anyway.
The black-scaled kobold got up from her crouch unsteadily, shivering and wincing from the pins and needles in her legs. She would have to remember to stretch more often; it was far too easy to forgo that kind of thing just to make the overall work go slightly faster. Her hand reached out to grab the pile of weeds and put them into the bucket as she ran through what needed to be done before she could properly relax. Hoppit’s food needed to be washed, she needed to bathe, and they were running low on water anyway, so she would have to visit the river. Just the thought of dragging herself into the forest again made her muscles protest, but she wouldn’t have the energy to do it later. She forced the smile that had started to fall and took the first of many steps.
- - - - -
The river wasn’t too far away, only taking a few minutes of traipsing through the dense woodlands until she reached her destination. It was an idyllic little spot. The trees thinned out to allow a grassy bank along the water, and there was an appreciably gentle slope from shallows to depths, making for a convenient place to take care of various needs. She had discovered this place during her travels, and it was where a kind older woman found her.
Ceele was washing off at the time, with Hoppit safely taking shelter from the outside underneath the bundled blankets while he waited. The trickle of the stream brushing against rocks covered the sound of footsteps, so she was rather surprised when an aged voice called out to ask if she was okay. Her first reaction was to distance herself and apologize—the why didn’t matter, but she had learned that most people were more lenient of her presence if she seemed apologetic for it, and she usually was. The elderly kobold just laughed at her scrambling, tacking on an assurance that there was no need for modesty. The woman was blind, apparently, which explained how Ceele’s blackened colours hadn’t deterred her.
Strangely enough, there was a comforting sense of ease around the one who introduced herself as Hira. It was a sort of presence that Ceele could only vaguely remember, and it drew her close enough to speak as she finished bathing. The conversation wasn’t anything profound, of course—they hardly delved deeper than surface-level small talk—but Hira lost her smile as she listened to the younger kobold. By the end of it, the old woman posed a series of questions with a dark inflection to her voice, and Ceele struggled to find an answer.
‘Are you tired of looking for something that only slips away? Are you tired of running? Do you really want to be scared and alone?’
If the silence bothered Hira, then it didn’t show. She had simply held out a hand and offered Ceele a way of life that didn’t involve wondering where she would be spending the night, nor entailed cowering in the brush while fearsome predators roamed freely. It would be a simple existence of few fortunes, but it was safe, and it was honest. All she had to do was say yes.
Ceele denied it at first, partially because she knew most people despised Hobbit's species, and partially because she couldn’t shake the offer being too good to be true. Hira was quick to propose a compromise; Ceele could take residence in the gardening shed that had fallen from use, and to satiate the nagging sense of an unfair deal, she would be put in charge of maintaining the garden itself. All Hira wanted was to ‘see’ her favourite space bloom again, since she couldn’t take care of it anymore. The black-scaled kobold stared longingly at where Hoppit was, his little body shivering from the prolonged cold and fear that he would be hurt if he left the blankets hiding him. It was with a heavy guilt that she accepted Hira’s offer, keeping quiet about her true reason for doing so.
That was in the past, however, though she thought about it every time she stopped by and saw the smooth rocks where she and Hira first met. Eventually, she might gather the courage to admit that she was housing a ‘pest’ and beg for forgiveness. Until then, she would just work her hardest to prove it wasn’t a mistake to give her a home. That her endless efforts weren’t meaningless. That Hoppit deserved to be more than a ‘pest.’
That Ceele was more than something she had no control over being.
She cleared her head a bit and started on the reason she came all this way. Her dress was rather easy to wash in the meandering water, and the trees provided a suitable place for it to dry in the sunlight and light breeze. The weeds were fine with a thorough rinse near in the shallows, but taking care of her own hygiene required her to wade farther in, though it only came up to her chest in the middle of the rill. Still, she could scrub off the soil and grime, which was all she really needed. Perhaps some simple soaps would help rid her of the pervasive black that stained her skin and scales, but that was beyond her meagre means for the time being, as well as being mere wishful thinking.
She worked past the dreary mindset that settled in when she allowed it, focusing on how serene the river was. The soft birdsong from the trees helped make for a peaceful experience, and she could feel the somewhat chilled liquid basically pour into the aches and pains throughout her body, washing away the stiffness from spending so long under the unerring sun. It was nice to escape reality and let thoughts drift while held buoyant by calmer waters.
Yet the bliss was short-lived. Even if winter was gone, spring was still far from warming the waters enough for her to laze about for too long. She dragged herself from the soft current and fetched her dress from the low-lying branch she left it to dry on. It was still a touch damp, but it wasn’t anything a bit of time in front of the fireplace wouldn’t fix.
Ceele was only a short distance away from home when she heard a gravelly male voice, but it was the flicker of sight between the trees that made her drop what was in her arms and lunge into a sprint.
Makis stood just outside the gardening shed, a ferrorabbit held at arm’s length by rusty crimson hands placed on the scruff and haunch, the rabbit’s little ears flattened as fear filled its tiny face. Her eyes widened further when she noticed the small stains of blood in his light brown fur. They found out about him. Ephemeral claws of blackness clutched at her soul, ripping the very fabric she was made of as an unseen beast smiled, eager to take yet one more thing from her. Her Hoppit. Her baby. Her everything.
“Hoppit!” she shrieked, her words all but tearing out of her throat in desperation. Frozen blood coursed through her veins, yet poured into exhausted limbs. She broke through the treeline with no regard for the branches slashing against her flesh, panic making each sting fade before it could be processed. The grizzled glare of the older kobold snapped towards her, his usual scowl picking up an actual air of intensity that she never thought could be absent, the promise of violence lurking in his eyes. She skidded to a stop a few paces away, the lump in her throat threatening to clog her airway. “S-stop hurting him!”
“Didn’t,” he barked back, his tone even yet firm. “Cuts ain’t me. I’d’a done worse if’a had ta mind ta.”
The blatant declaration snapped her from blind panic, although his apparent anger didn’t do her fear any favours. “B-but… Then how…”
“‘Hoppit.’ Named it, did’cha?” he grunted, ignoring her confusion and bobbing the rabbit to get her attention again. His gaze shifted back to the animal, the flames of ire cooling slightly. “I was wonderin’ why yer plots ain’t dead yet. Suppose this critter’s why.”
One of her hands hesitantly reached out until she pulled it back, while the other clutched at her chest to stop her heart from hammering against her ribs. She couldn’t act rashly. Not while her baby was in his arms. “I—”
“Soft thing, ain’t it,” the elder kobold commented curiously, cutting her off.
“Y-yes?” she returned reluctantly, struggling to stop herself from lashing out to reclaim the ferrorabbit in his grasp.
“Like fine silk.” Makis tipped and tilted the animal, inspecting this and that with a deep-seated frown, all while Hoppit silently looked to her for help. The pit in her stomach grew. She needed to get him back, but how?
Ceele swallowed the dense dread as she tried to formulate some sort of plan, stumbling over her words and forced smile. “I-it’s nice! Isn’t it nice?”
His eyes snapped back to burrow into her own with hatred. “Wasn’t a compliment, girly.”
“B-but you—”
He released Hoppit’s lower half to jab a claw at the various spikes around his body, plying them with minimal force. “Look. See this? These’r suppose ta break bone. ‘Specially when he’s stiff like this. Ain’t no way I should be able ta bend ‘em. He’s barely more than a walkin’ carcass—all skin ‘n stick. He’s gonna get picked up by a wandering pecker if he keeps pissin’ about out ‘ere. It’s a wonder he’s still kickin’. What’cha feeding ‘em?” His gaze dropped from her face to the rest of her, disgust curling his muzzle into a snarl. “N’ver mind. I can guess.”
She felt the dampness build at the edges of her vision, unprepared to not only worry for Hoppit's immediate health, but also to face such harsh criticism while she was so vulnerable. “I… I try to make sure he has…”
Makis crouched to release the ferrorabbit onto the ground, Ceele dropping to her knees the moment he did. The terrified lagomorph wasted no time, bolting towards his adoptive mother and leaping into her arms, shaking uncontrollably. The rust-coloured ‘bold stared as she started soothingly stroking the animal’s back.
“Yer given’ em the weeds, aren’t ya?” he stated rather than asked. She gave a teary nod when her voice wouldn’t respond for her. The old kobold drew a breath, letting it go in an exasperated sigh as he stood back up, his expression becoming more impatient than antagonistic. “What else?”
“I— Um…”
“What. Else?”
“W-whatever I c-can find!” she sputtered out. Hoppit tried to hide against her neck, prompting her to tighten her hold. She couldn’t stop herself from shrinking, the guilt and confusion pulling her head down. “R-roots, vegetables, fruits… I give them as often as I can.”
His glare continued unimpeded, his cadence cold. “That it?”
There were a million things Ceele wanted to say. A part of her wanted to beg him not to kick them out of the first safe place she had in longer than she could remember, but she couldn’t find the words. She wanted to deny the judgmental tone that stabbed into her insecurity surrounding how good of a job she was doing with Hoppit, but the deadened void in her chest swallowed her pride whole. She knew he was right to critique her. That she was failing in the only thing that mattered anymore. That the feeling of loss would return.
“I try,” she whispered through the beginnings of a sob. “I try to find more, but he needs someone around, and I have to work the garden, so there’s only so much time I can spend looking. He won’t even eat all of what I bring back…” Tears dripped off her cheeks as she aimed a desolate smile at her furry friend. “He wants to make sure I have some too.”
“Yer killin’ em,” Makis pointed out plainly, crossing his arms. “He’ll be dead ‘fore the summer at this rate.”
“I know!” she shouted, forcing back the memories of insidious murmurs that lurked in the back of her mind, eager to creep into her ears again. The hate-filled stares that followed her, the rumours that arrived in towns before she had the chance to make an impression, and the guilt that loomed over her like an executioner's axe… “I know I am… I just… I don’t know what he needs. I don’t know how to make him happy…but I try. I’m trying…”
“…Yer an idiot, girly.”
She looked up to see the elder kobold walking away without another word. Her eyes fell to Hoppit, the ferrorabbit pressing himself against her as much as he could. He was small, thin, soft, and growing weaker by the day, but he never let it keep him down for long. No, he always showed his best for her, giving her joy that wasn’t provided anywhere else. She saw the thin cuts and dried blood, though she didn’t know where they came from, nor how he got out of the shed in the first place. But that was okay. Hoppit was okay, and she had Hoppit, so everything was okay, right?
…But how much longer would everything stay okay? How much longer until her efforts weren’t enough, and she was left desperately reaching for fading memories of what once was? How much longer until she killed her baby too?
How much longer until she was alone again?
Soft footsteps drew near, pulling her from the spiralling thoughts that threatened to gnaw at her soul. Damp, blurry eyes fell on Makis returning with a small wooden crate, the older kobold stopping a few steps away. He dropped the box, a deep, rattling thud produced as it impacted the ground, making Hoppit flinch in her arms. Ceele blinked as she kept him calm, then blinked again, looking up at the man for answers.
“The name, girly,” he spat in irritation. “Ferrorabbit. Ther’ Earth aligned creatures; they need metals. They don’t care where they get it, but they need lots of it. Iron, copper, tin, lead—raw crystal, if they can find it. You name it, they’ll take a chunk out of it. It's why they bother farmers so much; the best soil’s usually top’a gem deposits, ‘n the little bastards have no issue burrowing deep to get it. Dries up the element’s energy ‘n makes the crops weak.”
Ceele’s mouth opened and closed, each unsuccessful attempt to speak making her feel smaller and smaller. More and more lost. Why was he telling her this? How did he know? What was in the—
He kicked the crate with the side of his foot. “Scraps. Don’t’cha look at me like that. I’m a smith, girly. I might be old and retired, but I still work a forge. Now, this ain’t anything pure—it’s just slag and hunks—but I’m sure the critter won’t mind. Your little gardenin’ project pays off, ‘n I’ll see which of my contacts can get in some better ore.”
She ripped her eyes away from the box and met the perpetual scowl of the old kobold, seeing a warmth behind the hostility that she had never noticed before. “…Why?”
He scoffed in amusement, which looked somewhat menacing on such a hardened expression. “Yer a touch stupid, girly, but the missus adores ya, ‘n yer a good worker.” A shadow of a smile formed on his face. “Hira spent more evenings asking ‘bout how the plots are doin’ than I got time in the day. She’d bite my head off if I noticed a critter like that sufferin’ and didn’t lend a hand. ‘Specially when it’s obvious you ain’t tryin’ ta hurt the thing.”
“B-but the garden… Isn’t he a problem?”
Makis rolled his eyes, turning with a dismissive wave of his hand. “If he was, he’da killed it by now. I’d say he’s been keepin’ the others clear ‘n got scratched up for the trouble. That’s more reason to feed ‘em right in my eyes; pay the poor bastard his dues.” He paused after a few steps, shooting her one last incredulous glance. “‘N the rabbit’s right. You’re not much better off than he is. Eat. Before the missus takes my head, preferably. I ain’t need ta hear her worryin’ over you more than I already do.”
And with that, he walked off back to the house, leaving Ceele to sit stunned on the ground with Hoppit quietly nuzzling into her.
“Hoppit…?”
The ferrorabbit perked an ear and gently licked her collar. Fresh tears ran rivulets down her face, yet they didn’t weigh her down. They felt freeing. She adjusted her hold on the rabbit and held him out, taking in the small cuts and numerous other injuries she had never noticed before. He stared back at her with worried eyes.
“You’ve been busy, huh?” she cooed quietly, doing her best to keep her voice from cracking. He shrunk in her hands. “I told you to stay home, baby. What if something happened to you? I wouldn’t know where you went, and…”
Her protests died out as she saw what was unmistakably guilt on his little face. She brought him back to her chest and cleared her throat.
“It’s alright, Hoppit. If… If you want to help momma, then we can work together, okay? Just…please don’t go off getting hurt… I don’t know what I’d do without you…” The rabbit didn’t reply, and she was pretty sure she had never heard him make any sounds that weren’t his happy little ear clacks, but she chose to interpret the nuzzling as an agreement. “Such a smart boy…”
She took a breath and wiped off the excess moisture from her cheeks, setting Hoppit down on the ground. “Let’s bring Mr. Makis’ gift in, and then I need to go get more water so we can clean you up, okay?”
He bounced his way to the door of their home, waiting patiently for her to lug the surprisingly heavy crate into the shed. He was even still behaving himself by the time she returned from picking up the things she dropped in her haste. There wasn’t a single protest from the ferrorabbit as she washed over his wounds with warm water, nor when she asked him to wait as she cut up a small salad for him using an extra portion of her rationed vegetables. Finally, once everything else was gone, she tentatively sifted through the box until she found a chunk of something that didn’t look so sharp, then offered it to Hoppit skeptically.
As startling as it was to see him bite through metal without issue, she couldn’t help but tear up again at how pleased he looked with the bizarre addition to his diet. He munched through the first piece, then stared at the box while pawing at the air, asking for more. She obliged through wet laughs, feeling lighter than she had since he first gazed at her from his burrow, alone and afraid, just like she was.
Her little baby was happy, and that made it okay.
Next
—
A/N: Thank you to my Patrons, new and returning! No Thanks, Emmanuel, and Megathor join the others who get to read 1 chap ahead!

Dersleri pek iç açıcı olmayan , arkadaşları olmayan , ailesi ile ilişkileri kötü , geleceği hakkında sürekli kaygılı birisiyim elbette vardır buna benzer şeyler yaşayanlar merak ediyorum sizi o dönülmez yoldan alı koyan şey nedir çünkü bende o yöntemi bulamazsam seneye gideceğim . Şu an 17 yaşındayım sınav vs var seneye elimden geleni yapacağım alanım dışı bir daldan gireceğim bazı sebeplerden ötürü . Gerçekten arkadaşım yok olanlarda gitti . Şu an sadece şansa tanıdığım bir kız var hayatımda ona sözüm var ama gerçekten bazen zorlanıyorum . Hemen bitirmek istiyorum bazen silahın yerini kontrol ediyorum ne yapacağımı da bilmiyorum . Bazen gerçekten mutluyken bu düşünceler geliyor aklıma kendime hobi bulmaya mutlu olmaya çalışıyorum ama hiçbir şey önüne geçemiyor tam günüm güzeldi derken bu böyle sürmeyecek düşüncesi geliyor aklıma . Buraya kadar okuyan herkese teşekkür ediyorum .

Dear Broadchurch fans, I have posted a series of rewatches of season 1 (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Broadchurch\_series\_1) of Broadchurch. Now I find it is time to review some of the prevalent themes within the series. Please be aware that I will discuss season 1 as a whole, so there may be spoilers ahead.
If you enjoy reading this essay, feel free to stop by my AnalysisVault to see if you find some more of my work to your liking. Please note that this subreddit is read only and comments should be made with the original posts rather than the cross-posted ones.

Egotism vs Altruism
One of the more prevalent themes in Broadchurch is the question of egotism vs altruism. I will give you a short overview of both concepts as well as the spectrum they represent, then speak about their implementation in the series and finally make a statement about why the makers chose to make it a central theme.

Wikipedia states:

Egotism is defined as the drive to maintain and enhance favorable views of oneself and generally features an inflated opinion of one's personal features and importance distinguished by a person's amplified vision of one's self and self-importance. It often includes intellectual, physical, social, and other overestimations. The egotist has an overwhelming sense of the centrality of the "me" regarding their personal qualities.

In essence, egotism is the personal philosophy of “me first”. A person with strong egotistical tendencies will make sure their own needs are met before those of others. Think, if you will, of the people who will take the best slice of cake for themselves or drive a gas guzzler out of convenience or cut the line at the airport to get the best seat. All of these are egotistical actions. On the other hand, some egotism is warranted for self-preservation. The parent who gives their all for their children but runs themself ragged in the process may need to exercise more egotism. The health care professional who routinely skips their break to care for never-ending patients may want to be more self-preserving by being more selfish. Things like that. In general, society views egotistic action and unfavorable while oftentime people with egotistical traits tend to be more successful in certain areas of life.

Altruism is the principle and practice of concern for the well-being and/or happiness of other humans or animals above oneself. While objects of altruistic concern vary, it is an important moral value in many cultures and religions. It may be considered a synonym of selflessness, the opposite of selfishness.

In essence, altruism is the personal philosophy of “others first”. A person with strong altruistic tendencies will make sure the needs of others are met before their own. Think, if you will, of the people who will hand out food to others happily but forget to get any of their own, take great strides to pick up trash in a local park or offer up their seat for a disabled person on the bus. All of these are altruistic actions. In general, society views altruism as beneficial and a trait to strive for while oftentimes people with altruistic traits tend to be less successful and may feel taken advantage of.

Basically, egotism vs altruism is the Captain Kirk vs Mr Spock discussion. Spock says: “The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few”, goes into a highly irradiated engine room to save the Enterprise and dies in the process. Kirk says “The needs of the few outweigh the needs of the many” and risks war with the Klingons because he can’t live without his buddy.
However, every action has aspects of both in them. Each action every person takes has both egotistic and altruistic nuances to them. The interesting part is where the balance falls. I will let you decide for yourself which way the pendulum swings on the following examples.
Some examples:
The healthcare worker who overworks themselves acts in an altruistic way because they support patients and help them get better. But they are also egotistical in their own way because being “the supportive one” strokes their ego.
The person who drives the gas guzzler acts in an egotistic way because they pollute the environment unnecessarily, take up a lot of space with their vehicle and probably stink up the place with their fumes. But they might also have an altruistic aspect because they need to move large groups of people, feel they are supporting an industry that gives jobs to workers or even further the economy by spending money.
The person handing out food but not taking any for themselves can be very altruistic but depending on the person they can be very egotistic instead, for example when they decide to hog the table, demand ever-lasting gratitude for their “sacrifice” and/or post their actions on social media for clout.
Finally, a person who writes lengthy analyses and posts them on Reddit may appear altruistic because they attempt to enrich the lives of others with their observations and (hopefully) witty posts. They may also be egotistic in an attempt to garner attention and positive reinforcement through the community they choose to post in.

Implementation in the series:
One of the great things about the series is the fact that they are aware of the different sides of egotism and altruism and allow the viewer to form their own opinion. Hardly ever is anything said bluntly, most of the time we are left to figure out things of our own. We see the way the characters act, we see the way they interact and are interacted with and we are left to make our own decision. Hardly ever are things black and white, hardly ever are we given the one true answer ™.
This is one of the main reasons the series is as emotionally impactful as it is. Because life is messy. Life isn’t neat. Life isn’t simple. Stories with simple and clear answers are not realistic because life doesn’t work that way. Think about it. In the last decade or so there were a lot of shows and movies looking deeper into the question of fairy tale villains and whether they were villains at all. Star Wars does this masterfully by looking at Anakin Skywalker’s arch. He seems like a clear-cut villain in episode 4, the first to hit the screens, but as more of his story is revealed, he becomes much less cartoonishly evil.
In fact, the idea of egotism vs altruism is the driving factor in the various aspects of the investigation the detectives conduct. Look at the different suspects, if you will. All of them have (at the very least) some very egotistical behaviors. Steve Conelly, con man and maybe psychic is getting a feeling of importance when passing on his “messages” to the great expense of Beth Latimer, among others. Mark Latimer is so very much wrapped up in his selfishness he neglects just about everyone around him unless caring for them fulfills his needs. Nigel Carter engulfs himself with righteous anger against Jack Marshal, not for the community but seeking Mark’s approval. Paul Coates revels in the attention he and his church gain from the case. Susan Wright is so eager to protect herself, she harms others pre-emptively. Jack Marshal, the man who slept with a child, then married her. No 40-year-old man would do that for selfless reasons.
All of the suspects we are presented in the show are – in one way or the other – selfish. And that’s perfect. Murdering a child is an inherently selfish action. The true joy of the show comes with finding out that the murderer is a man who we are made to perceive as deeply selfless.
Let’s take a look at Joe Miller and how he is portrayed on the show. As I have stated in the various rewatch posts, most of the time Joe Miller is shown as loving, caring and genuinely supportive parent and partner. As u/Vioralarama stated so well in my post about episode 5, “He's got the plot armor of the supportive spouse who handles all the emotional work for the person working the crime.” On the surface, he does. Every time we see Joe Miller, he is seen with a member of his family. And every time he is seen he is doing some sort of supportive work for them.
Case in point, when Joe and DS Miller invite DI Hardy to their home for dinner, Joe does it all. Puts the kids to bed, prepares dinner, does the dishes. He tries to mediate between DI Hardy and DS Miller, too, and makes a great effort to lighten the mood.
Once you look below the surface, though, things look entirely different. We see glimpses here and there that things are not what they seem, mostly through things we DON’T see rather than the things to DO see.
Joe Miller shows some worrying signs of being a neglectful parent and partner quite early on in the show. To pick up the example of the dinner experience, when DS Miller leaves the room, Joe Miller uses the time he has alone with DI Hardy to probe him for information. If he truly were the supportive husband the show wants us to believe, he would’ve used that time to help both find common ground in their working relationship. DI Hardy is the one who brings that up and asks about whether DS Miller likes him. The conversation is cut short though as Joe Miller filled the narrow time slot with questions about the case and didn’t leave DI Hardy enough to ask about how to improve his working relationship with DS Miller. Case in point, DS Miller keeps complaining that DI Hardy addresses her as “DS Miller” instead of “Ellie”. This would have been a great talking point for Joe Miller in that moment, asking “why” and mediating between them. Also, did Joe Miller make a dinner invitation to help DS Miller and DI Hardy form a working relationship or did he do it to garnish information?
More examples:
When DS Miller and Joe Miller tell Tom Miller about Danny’s passing, both leave him alone in his bedroom. Neither offer a shoulder to cry on. Sure, DS Miller is just as responsible as Joe here but Joe is the stay-at-home parent and therefore the more direct caretaker than DS Miller. Also, over the course of the show we never see Joe actually engaging with Tom, there is no attempt at comforting him, not even when he is obviously distraught. Joe Miller lets Tom out of his sight at the Arcade in episode 5, right in the middle of the “pedophile panic” surrounding Jack Marshal. Just in general, Tom spends a LOT of time wandering the town alone. This image doesn’t sit well with the façade of caring, loving, altruistic father.
Indeed, the filmmakers are pulling one over our eyes with Joe, who turns out to be one of the most egotistic persons in the town. Joe spends time and family money on Danny, he breaks into a holiday hut to do so, manipulates the boy with abuser language and, when threatened to be deprived of his attention, gets so angry he strangles the boy. Whom he still believes to be his son’s best friend. And who is his best friend’s son. The same best friend he then begs for praise because he didn’t drop the body into the ocean so he didn’t have to spend years wondering what happened to the boy.
But why do the filmmakers do this? The series REVELS in red herrings, side plots, dead ends and misdirection. The greatest misdirection they can give us is showing us the “perfect” man and making him turn out to be the most terrible one of all. It’s an emotional gut punch and the type of storytelling that works really well with the type of story they want to convey. Because the story of Broadchurch is not about Danny’s murder, it’s about the fallout that follows. A community like this learning that one of their “best people” is indeed a child murderer has to have a terrible ripple course through it, upsetting it deeply.
With so many other characters filling the “egotism” bill, we are offered a view beyond the picturesque coastal town in Dorset, England, where things look perfect, harmonious and just lovely. The series revels in showing us this image and dissecting it piece by piece, looking deeper and deeper into the cesspool of secrets and bad decisions. As such, the viewer is given the change to observe the deep hurt inflicted upon the more altruistic characters – most of which happen to be women – by the egotistic characters – many of which happen to be men. It is the direct and even more terribly indirect hurt that is inflicted upon the altruistic ones that gives the story the emotional impact it has.
Case in point, Beth Latimer and DS Miller both are exploited by their husbands and end up not only dealing with the direct fallout of their respective actions but hurt to a point they cannot even rely on each other anymore. They are both stripped of the delusion of happiness and family being their haven. They are also both stripped of a friendship which could supply each with a friend who “gets it”. Heck, just for the fun of it the makers toss in Susan Wright, a woman who has been so terribly hurt by her husband that she became jaded enough to “join the other team”. She has become the egotistic abuser her husband was simply because she (probably) used to be altruistic. Her experience with her husband, the police and the loss of her kids have kicked her to the other side of egotism simply out of a deep need for self-preservation.
Before the question comes up, no, the series is not about men vs women, or men = bad, women = good. And neither is this post. There are egotistic women in the story, like Karen White, Susan Wright or Becca Fisher. There are altruistic men in the story, too, like DI Hardy. But the trend is quite distinct. In my own personal experience this comes from the general societal expectation that women should be altruistic and work for the group. An expectation that is not socialized as thoroughly in men. The show picks up on this and showcases it to great effect, placing a great emphasis on the price some women are made to pay for following this expectation.
Finally, the question of egotism vs altruism is a thinking point the viewer is left to ponder with beyond the end credits of the last episode. The discussion of who is what and how much can keep the viewer’s mind busy for some time. Several people on this sub posted they hated Mark Latimer’s selfishness, and many commenters agree. If you ask me, this is a great result for a series, making the viewers contemplate things such as this beyond the actual viewing experience.

Hello again everybody!

Before we get started on today's post the current voting for Hisuian-Samurott currently has votes for B tier with a solid lead! For the time being we will put Hisuian-Samurott into the B tier with its Unovan counterpart and if anything changes I'll update on tomorrow's post!
Meanwhile the vote for Hisuian-Typhlosion has officially ended with B tier being the winning vote! I've included the Weighted Average for that vote in the tier list below :)
(Please note that this voting/tiering is centered around Classic as the current state of Endless requires specific strategies after a certain point.)

Current Tier List:

S tier:

Garganacl (4.37), Cloyster (4.01), Skeledirge (4.48), Gholdengo (4.49), Tinkaton (4.64)

A tier:

Gyarados/Mega (4.19), VenusauMega/Dyna (3.80), Aegislash (4.06), Corviknight/Dyna (3.91), Excadrill (4.32), GardevoiMega (3.99), Toxapex (3.50), ScizoMega (3.94), GengaMega/Dyna (3.90), Delphox (3.62), Blastoise/Mega/Dyna (3.51), Blaziken/Mega (3.76), Swampert/Mega (3.76), Empoleon (3.57), Primarina (3.96), Quaquaval (3.77)

B tier:

Kanto-Persian/Dynamax Kanto-Meowth (3.25), Weavile (3.23), Starmie (2.92), Rhyperior (2.88), Quagsire (2.91), Mamoswine (3.25), Whimsicott (3.36), Aggron/Mega (3.48), Infernape (3.48), Alolan-Decidueye (2.89), Johto-Typhlosion (3.06), Torterra (3.03), Serperior (3.60), Unovan-Samurott (3.04), Chesnaught (2.74), Incineroar (3.49), Rillaboom/Dynamax (3.43), Inteleon/Dynamax (3.17), Hisuian-Typhlosion (3.15), Hisuian-Samurott

C tier:

Linoone (2.97), Meganium (2.09), Emboar (2.39), Hisuian-Decidueye (2.65)

F tier:

Dustox (1.47)
With that being said let's get to today's vote!
Today is day 53 of tier voting and we are officially back to doing regular votes on specifically requested Pokemon! :) To start things off today we will discuss the former GOAT of Endless mode, as well as the Dynamax form of its pre-evolution, but of course these votes are about Classic as opposed to Endless so this is a very different ballgame we're playing here. The reason we are voting these together as one vote is because they are nearly identical in functionality with only slight differences and essentially it just comes down to choosing one or the other for your run since Archaludon can not Dynamax but you're more likely to roll a Metal Alloy before a Dynamax Bracelet and Max Mushrooms. They also have the same typing, Passive, Egg Moves and almost identical natural moveset with the exception of Archaludon getting its Signature Move, Electro Shot. What will likely come as a surprise to most of you however, is Dyna-Duraludon actually has a slightly better stat spread than it's evolved form (in every case except Special Defense which is only 5 points worse and HP which is the same). However, Archaludon certainly has the advantage abilities-wise as it gets Stamina or Sturdy as opposed to the very niche and not necessarily useful Light or Heavy Metal. (Their Hidden Ability, Stalwart isn't implemented but also is useless in single battles and honestly just not very good anyways). Also, Electro Shot is an extremely powerful move, especially on a Rain team or in a water biome where Rain is fairly common. So as for which one is better overall it's somewhat hard to say. For typing, Dragon/Steel is a very strong typing with only 2 weaknesses, an immunity and 9 resistances! The typing is immune to or resists over half of the entire type chart! Both forms have good Physical bulk and attacking stats (moreso on Special Attack) as well as okay speed. Natural access to Metal Burst is also very powerful even in Classic as even with the rough Special Defense it has enough HP to usually survive a single hit (or Archaludon can just run Sturdy and not even worry about it). For Passive Ability they get Download which is really good against certain opponents but definitely wants to know what it's being sent in against to make sure it boosts Special Attack. For Egg Moves they definitely got some gifts with Ice type coverage, Body Press (which is mostly useful for Stamina Archaludon), Recover and Core Enforcer (which doesn't have its secondary effect implemented at the time of writing this but is still a 100 BP Dragon-type Special Attack). While the starter cost of 5 is somewhat on the expensive side, even base form Duraludon is incredibly powerful compared to most of the early game encounters you'll experience in Classic.
(Please note that Pokemon with Mega/Dynamax evolutions will be tiered as one Pokemon and not tiered separately for their Mega/Dynamax form. Different variants such as Alolan Persian vs. Kanto Persian will be tiered separately however.)

More Information About Voting/Tiering And Links To Past Votes:

https://www.reddit.com/pokerogue/s/0LNZhPPzR9

What each tier generally means:

S tier:

Top tier, can make or break your entire run, essentially the cream of the crop.

A tier:

Very strong but not quite top tier, might be slightly outclassed or has a slight weakness holding it back.

B tier:

Solid choice that can make it to your endgame team, might be reliant on team composition to truly function well or might just be overall outclassed.

C tier:

Usually early-mid game 'Mons, ones you don't really want to take to end game if you can avoid it, usually pretty decently glaring weakness but something redeeming enough to keep from F tier.

F tier:

No reason to use in end game unless you're doing it for a meme/joke/completionist/Egg Voucher purposes.

Abstain/No Opinion:

This will be a voting option mostly for Pokemon people haven't unlocked/used to their full potential yet. Can also be used as a "See Results" button (remember Reddit won't let you change your vote however) if you don't want to skew the data but want to see the results of the vote.
(Data in parentheses is for Dynamax Duraludon)

Archaludon (Dynamax-Duraludon)

• Type: Steel/Dragon
  
• Mega: No
  
• Dynamax: (Duraludon can Dynamax, Archaludon can not)
  
• Starter cost {Duraludon}: 5
  
• Possible Egg moves: Ice Beam, Body Press, Recover Core Enforcer
  
• Biomes: Construction Site
  
• Abilities: Stamina or Sturdy (Light Metal or Heavy Metal)
  
• Hidden Ability: Stalwart (Stalwart)
  
• Passive Ability: Download - when the Pokemon enters battle it raises its Attack by one stage if the opponent's Special Defense is higher than its Defense. If the Defense is higher than Special Defense it raises its Special Attack instead. (In double battles the 2 Pokemon's Defenses are averaged and the lower combined total determines which Attack stat will be raised)
  
• Evolution: Duraludon evolves into Archaludon with Metal Alloy. Duraludon can also Dynamax with Dynamax Bracelet and Max Mushrooms
  

Base stats:

• Base Stat Total: 600 (635)
  
• HP: 90 (90)
  
• Attack: 105 (110)
  
• Defense: 130 (145)
  
• Sp. Attack: 125 (140)
  
• Sp. Defense: 65 (60)
  
• Speed: 85 (90)
  

Learnset by level up:

Leer, Metal Claw, Rock Smash, Hone Claws, Metal Sound, Breaking Swipe, Dragon Tail, Iron Defense, Focus Energy, Dragon Claw, Flash Cannon, Metal Burst, Hyper Beam

Learned upon evolution:

Electro Shot

Notable TMs:

Protect, Snarl, Foul Play, Body Slam, Reflect, Light Screen, Rest, Sleep Talk, Thunder Wave, Rock Slide, Swords Dance, Dark Pulse, Iron Head, Aura Sphere, Dragon Pulse, Stealth Rock, Heavy Slam, Thunderbolt, Earthquake, Stone Edge, Outrage, Thunder, Solar Beam, Draco Meteor, Steel Beam, Meteor Beam

Tomorrow's vote: Azumarill!

Pokemon on the radar for voting soon:

Flygon, Metagross/Mega, Machamp/Dyna, Unfezant, Yanmega, Leavanny, Sinistcha, Wormadam-Trash, Gastrodon, Clodsire, Staraptor, Klefki, Kanto-Raichu, Gallade/Mega, Comfey, Araquanid, Crobat, Malamar, Ferrothorn, Walrein, Gliscor, Roserade, Vileplume, Minior, Hitmonchan, Bibarel, Chandelure, Alakazam/Mega, Flamigo, Volcarona, Barbaracle, Butterfree/Dyna, Beedrill/Mega, Mawile/Mega, Drednaw/Dyna, Annihilape, Cramorant, Aerodactyl/Mega, Glimmora, Gyarados/Mega (re-vote), Heatran, Raikou, Phione, Ogerpon, Tapu Koko, Dialga/Primal, Galarian-Zapdos, Regieleki, Regidrago, Zacian, Zamazenta, Rayquaza/Mega, Latias/Mega, Latios/Mega, Ho-Oh, Volcanion, Toxtricity/Dyna, Carbink, Porygon-Z, Cinccino, Snorlax/Dyna, Wishiwashi
(Other requests will be added to this list and this list is not necessarily in order)

Happy voting!

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This is a rant mostly, but I'll start by saying that Cushings is supposed to be rare, right? Is it Really? Or are Doctors just saying it's rare because they are so reluctant to test people for it and try so hard to NOT diagnose people with it. For it being SO RARE there wouldn't be a group dedicated to it. I don't think this is that rare. In fact, I think it's more common than we think and they call it pcos or they gaslight us into thinking we're just fat. Sorry, I'm this close to a breaking point. Today my sister looked at me in disgust cause my body nearly gave up on me today and I started having heart palpitations in the shop, so I needed a electric cart.
Anywho, since 2019 I have been gaining significant weight. At first it was "slow" until I gained 70lbs. I was 230lbs and could barely walk without being exhausted. Anywho from 2019-2024 I got covid about 6 times and my menstrual cycle stopped (still stopped). From 2022-2023 I started experiencing severe stomach pain, and gastroparesis. I would eat once a day, my food wasn't digesting so I'd throw it up about 20hrs later and this happened for weeks but I was still gaining weight. Eventually that calmed down and I started feeling fine...then I got "bronchitis" (respiratory issues), which led to pleurisy which caused me to be in severe pain for 2 months. I had scans on my chest and intestinal area and both came back that I had no issues, just swelling. Meanwhile all my blood tests results were too high or too low.
From April 2023 I got to 270lbs, June 2023 I was 285, August 3rd 2023 I was 300, August 15th I was 314. (Doctor saw i gained almost 15lbs in 2 weeks and ignored it)I was activly watching and feeling my skin stretch, it was horrible, it hurt and itched. During this time I got Covid again, was experiencing tachycardia, I was sleeping about 14hrs sometimes 20hrs a day and passing out everywhere...even while driving. My iron was so low I was borderline heart failure. Turned out I was severely Anemic. I was like wow, makes sense...I was anemic, I couldn't lose weight cause I had no energy, not enough oxygen in my body so it was holding on to calories to keep going. Wrong. I got a blood infusion and iron infusion and my levels got better. Doctor thought I had pcos, they did tests, said everything looks great and said I didn't have it. So now they think I'm faking it and I'm trying to find a medical reason for why I'm fat. So they send me to a dietitian...I'm already following the diet she recommends.
Next tests...I'm diabetic and have high cholesterol, sleep apnea, severe intestinal swelling. I'm waiting for appointments for my hemotologist, cardiologist, neurologist, OBGYN, and Gastroenterologist. I saw my gastro, she is worried but she goes through all my symptoms, and says she thinks I have cushings because I have all the symptoms. I told my pcp and she set me up for an Endocrinologist....I can't get an appointment until DECEMBER. I'm in pain all the time, just recently I started developing horrid pain in my heels and knees and pinky fingers? I wake up about every 2 hours with a headache some that just last all day. Oh and my mouth is ALWAYS dry.
So my doctor ordered a 24 cortisol that I'm doing tomorrow...but I keep thinking over my other labs and what's supposed to be normal for cushings is low or high and what's supposed to be high is low all my other blood work doesn't match. Only consistent thing is that my white blood count is high...but that could be from the swelling well and a few others. I'm scared, like I feel like I could have this but I'm worried that I don't, so I'll have start over. Also it's soooo hard to get doctor's to want to test for it.

Hi zusammen,
hätte da eine Frage an euch. Bei mir im Home-Office habe ich einen Raum als Arbeitsplatz und kann hier in Ruhe VS-NfD Dokumente bearbeiten. Meine Frau hat mir nun erzählt, dass bei ihr in der Firma auch zwei bis drei Leute in einem Raum sitzen, bei dem zwei Kollegen VS-NfD bearbeiten und eine Person nicht. Bin mir selber da nicht sicher, aber ich bin jetzt davon ausgegangen, dass selbst wenn zwei Personen in einem Büro sitzen und VS-NfD bearbeiten, ist dann nicht das Need-to-know Prinzip verletzt? Und darf jemand im Büro sitzen, der kein VS-NfD macht?
Also konkret hätte ich zwei Fragen. Ist die Konstellation zwei Mitarbeiter, beide machen VS-NfD und die Konstellation, zwei Mitarbeiter, einer macht VS-NfD erlaubt? Dachte da ist dann eventuell Need-to-know verletzt, aber wahrscheinlich irre ich mich da.

**Trigger warning for in-depth discussion of the deaths and bodies of children*\*
Many of you probably know the story of the Unknown Child, or Body #4 – the body of a baby boy recovered from the sea shortly after the sinking of the Titanic and buried in Halifax’s Fairview Cemetery. Unidentified for years, he was speculated to be either Gosta Palsson or Eugene Rice, tentatively identified with DNA analysis as Eino Panula in 2002, and definitively identified through improved DNA testing in 2007 as Sidney Goodwin. The Unknown Child has come to represent all the young lives who were lost in the disaster.
However, much less well-known is the mystery of Body #1. Pulled from the icy Atlantic on April 21^st 1912 by the cable ship Mackay Bennett, the body of an approximately 10-12-year-old boy was the first of 337 Titanic victims to be recovered. Officially, Body #1 was identified as Walter John van Billiard, a 9-year-old third-class boy who perished along with his father Austin and 10-year-old brother James William. He was buried next to his father, whose body was also recovered, in the Whitemarsh Union Cemetery of Zion Lutheran Church, Flourtown, Pennsylvania. However, doubt has always lingered among Titanic researchers and enthusiasts over the true identity of the body. In this post, I’ll examine the case for and against the body’s identification as Walter Van Billiard, investigate some other possibilities for its identity, and summarize my findings.
A few disclaimers: firstly, I’m not a professional, just someone who’s been interested in the Titanic (and specifically its child/teen passengers) for a long time.
Secondly, although I’ve never seen a detailed write-up on Body #1 before, others have discussed this topic and arrived at similar conclusions as mine, so I’m not breaking any entirely new ground here.
Finally, this post isn’t meant to disrespect or offend any of the Van Billiard family or to shatter the idea of a father and son resting beside each other. I’m just trying to take a critical look at the identification of Body #1 and suggest some alternate possibilities.
Approximately 115 Titanic passengers and crew under the age of 18 were lost, and very few of their bodies were ever found. In attempting to identify one of them, I hope to honour them all.

Part I: The Van Billiards

Walter and James van Billiard (photo here) were the two eldest sons of Austin Blyler van Billiard and Maude Murray. One or both boys had been born in Paris, France, but spent most of their lives in Africa, where the family was engaged in diamond mining. By April 1912, the Van Billiards had had four more children and wanted to return to Austin’s family in North Wales, Pennsylvania. They travelled to London, where Maude fell ill. It was decided that she would stay there with her parents and her four youngest children to recuperate, while Austin would take James and Walter ahead to America. Austin’s parents had never met any of their grandchildren before, and he wanted them to spend Easter together. Tragically, they booked third-class on the RMS Titanic, and the rest is history. No survivor accounts mention the Van Billiards by name, so it is unknown how they passed their time on the ship or how exactly they met their ends. A newspaper article (Daily Home News, April 23rd 1912) suggests the boys may have refused to leave their father, but it’s equally likely they simply arrived on deck too late to have the option of boarding a lifeboat.
What is known is that two bodies purported to be members of the Van Billiard family were later recovered and sent to Austin’s relatives in Pennsylvania for burial. Body #255, that of an approximately 40-year-old man with a dark red beard and moustache, was identified as Austin. Body #1, allegedly young Walter, was described as such:
No. 1 – MALE – ESTIMATED AGE. – 10-12. – HAIR. LIGHT.
CLOTHING – Overcoat, grey; one grey coat; one blue coat; grey woolen jersey; white shirt; grey knickers; black stockings; black boots
EFFECTS – Purse containing few Danish coins and ring; two handkerchiefs marked “A”.
Probably Third Class.
Furthermore, the “Inventory of the property found on the body of the late W. VanBilliard” adds that the purse also contained one United States cent and “three wooden disks.” This document can be viewed online at the Nova Scotia Archives website. Interestingly, “Unable to identify from clothing or effects” has been written across the middle of the page in pencil. Further down, it says “Remains shipped. See #255.”
Right off the bat, it's unclear why Body #1 was identified as that of 9-year-old Walter, as opposed to 10-year-old James – or, in fact, why a connection with the Van Billiards was made at all. The Philadelphia Inquirer of May 8^th 1912, reporting on the arrival of the bodies in Pennsylvania, states that identification was made “through the Red Cross Society and papers found on their persons.” However, no such papers are mentioned among the effects found on either body, despite this being common practice for the descriptions of Titanic victims’ bodies.
It is also noteworthy that no member of the Van Billiard family was reported as having identified or even viewed the bodies. Identification would, of course, have taken place at Halifax, where the recovered bodies were brought before being buried there or forwarded elsewhere, and I could find absolutely nothing to suggest that any Van Billiard travelled to Halifax to view them. The North American newspaper of May 8th 1912 states quite clearly that Austin’s father, Burgess James van Billiard, was in Pennsylvania when the bodies arrived. Maude and the other children were still in England, and in fact would not make the trip to America until February 1913, almost a full year after the disaster.
Moreover, it must be remembered that none of the Van Billiard family members in America had ever seen their grandsons. They may have seen photographs of them, but this doesn’t necessarily mean that they’d be able to identify a body which had spent six days floating in the freezing ocean. There are stories from other maritime disasters of the era, such as the General Slocum (1904), the Eastland (1915), and the Princess Sophia (1918) of children’s bodies being misidentified (or dubiously identified), even by close relatives. Therefore, even if Burgess van Billiard or another family member had seen Body #1, would that have conclusively proven that it was Walter (or James)? Or would it simply be a case of a grief-stricken human being clinging to the belief that their loved one was one of the few recovered from an icy grave?
According to Judith Geller’s Titanic: Women and Children First, “popular reports” of the time stated that Austin’s body was found with Walter’s clasped to his chest. However, as she goes on to state, this was not the case. This can be seen plainly from the numbers of the bodies, which were assigned in the order that they were retrieved. Body #1 was recovered on April 21^st, while Body #255 would not have been picked up until April 25^th, according to the diary of Mackay Bennett crewman Clifford Crease. Therefore, identification of Body #1 cannot have been made by its proximity to Austin Van Billiard.
The effects found upon Body #1 also do nothing to prove, or even suggest, that the body was that of Walter Van Billiard. It is true that the handkerchiefs marked “A” could have belonged to Austin, but “A” could stand for many other names of those on board the Titanic. The Danish coins are a tantalizing clue, but none of the Van Billiard family was known to have lived in or visited Denmark. (Of course, it’s possible that the coins could have been misidentified – perhaps they were actually Belgian or Boer, as the Van Billiards lived in both the Belgian Congo and South Africa; or Dutch, as Austin Van Billiard is known to have visited Amsterdam shortly before embarking on the Titanic. (Perhaps the “A” handkerchief was a souvenir from the city?) However, these are only theories.)
It has never been conclusively accepted by Titanic researchers and enthusiasts that Body #1 is that of Walter Van Billiard. Walter’s entry on Encyclopedia Titanica contains the footnote: “Because of the effects recovered with the body there has to be some doubt over the authenticity of the identification.” Similarly, Women and Children First states that “the body might in fact have easily been that of another Third Class boy.” That book’s section on the Van Billiards ends with the somber observation that “a monument to [the] husband and two sons … stands in the Whitemarsh Union Cemetery, but only two (and perhaps one) of them lie beneath it.” Whether or not Walter van Billiard was truly Body #1, one hopes that this (mis?)identification brought some solace to his surviving family members.

Part II: Other Possibilities

With it being established that there is no conclusive proof that body #1 belonged to either of the Van Billiard boys, let us examine other possibilities. I have assembled a list of all male Titanic victims between the ages of 8 and 14 whose bodies were never found. The reason for extending this range is that the estimated ages given to bodies were not always entirely accurate. For example, the body of 12-year-old William Sage was estimated to be 14, the body of 16-year-old Rossmore Abbott was estimated as 22, and the body of 17-year-old Ernest Price was estimated as 26.
Our candidates are:

1. Eugene Joseph Abbott, 13
2. Filip Oscar Asplund, 13
3. Clarence Gustaf Hugo Asplund, 9
4. William Neal Thomas Ford, 14
5. Charles Edward Goodwin, 14
6. William Frederick Goodwin, 13
7. Harold Victor Goodwin, 10
8. Frederick William Hopkins, 14
9. Husayn Mahmud Husayn Ibrahim, 11
10. William Andrew Johnston, 8
11. Albert Rice, 10
12. George Rice, 8
13. Betros Seman, 10
14. Karl Thorsten Skoog, 11
15. George Frederick Sweet, 14
16. William Albert Watson, 14

A few possibilities can be easily excluded from this list:

• Karl Skoog had been involved in a railway accident at the age of 7 and had to have his left leg and the toes on his right foot amputated. He used crutches for mobility. It is impossible that such an obvious feature as a missing or prosthetic leg would not have been noted in the descriptions of the bodies.
• Husayn Ibrahim and Betros Seman were from Lebanon. It is unlikely (though not impossible) that a Middle Eastern boy would have had blonde hair or carried Danish coins. Accounts from the era almost invariably describe Middle Eastern passengers as “dark-complexioned,” “foreign-looking,” or “Italian types” – a detail which does not appear in the body’s description.

Several more possibilities can be marked as unlikely, if not ruled out entirely:

• In the only known photo of the Goodwin family, the boys all seem to have had dark hair. The eldest boy, Charles, was also only 2 months away from his 15^th birthday, putting him at the very edge of our age range and making it relatively unlikely that he would be mistaken for a 10-12-year-old (let alone one who could feasibly be 9 years old).
  • However, one point in the Goodwins’ favour is that the body of their youngest brother, Sidney Leslie (the ‘Unknown Child’) was found, meaning at least one member of the family was above decks at the moment of the sinking.
• George Frederick Sweet was one day away from turning 15, and was not permitted (or did not want) to board a lifeboat along with his adoptive mother and sisters, implying that he looked his age and could not have been mistaken for a preteen. A purported* photograph of him circa 1912 also shows him as dark-haired. Finally, he was in second class, while the body was described as “probably third class” (although this is hardly conclusive).
• Frederick Hopkins and William Watson were members of the crew, Hopkins being a plate steward and Watson a bellboy. It is therefore possible, if not certain, that they would have been wearing some sort of uniform rather than the clothing the body was described as wearing. Furthermore, like Charles Goodwin and George Sweet, both were within several months of turning 15.

Our list is thus reduced to:

1. Eugene Joseph Abbott, 13
2. Filip Oscar Asplund, 13
3. Clarence Gustaf Hugo Asplund, 9
4. William Neal Thomas Ford, 14
5. William Andrew Johnston, 8
6. Albert Rice, 10
7. George Rice, 8

Now, let us look at each of these boys in turn and examine the evidence for and against them being Body #1.
Eugene Joseph Abbott:

• His last name starts with A, meaning the handkerchief could be his.
• He was originally from (and was returning to) the U.S., so may have carried American money.
• He was just 2 weeks past his 13^th birthday, meaning he could likely have passed for 12 (within the estimated age range for the body).
• He and his family were known to have been on deck right at the time of the sinking, rather than belowdecks in the steerage areas. His mother, Rhoda, was the only woman to be rescued alive from the water, and his older brother Rossmore’s body was found (#190).
• He may have had fair hair – his brother’s body is described as being “very fair,” though it’s unknown if this refers to skin or hair. An alleged* photo of him from the Pigeon Forge Titanic Museum shows a light-haired boy. However, both his mother and brother appear to have dark hair in photos taken of them.
• There is nothing to suggest he would have had Danish coins.

William Neal Thomas Ford:
Little is known about Ford, an English youth emigrating to the USA with his extended family and a family friend. None of their bodies are known to have been recovered (although they may be among the unidentified). He has no known connection to the letter A or to the nation of Denmark. Therefore, I see him as among the most unlikely of these boys to be Body #1.
William Andrew Johnston:
William Johnston, a cousin of William Ford, is a slightly more likely candidate for two reasons. Firstly, his father’s name (and his own middle name) was Andrew, providing a connection to the letter A. Secondly, in the one photo of him provided by the Titanic Museum in Pigeon Forge,* he appears to have had light hair.
Albert and George Rice:

• The Rice family is known to have been on either the boat deck or A-Deck on the night of the sinking (reported by family friend Bridget Mulvihill, who survived), and their mother Margaret’s body was recovered. In fact, her body was #12, meaning her body was presumably located far closer to #1 than Austin Van Billiard’s was. (Though this doesn’t necessarily mean much given how far apart the bodies might have drifted, how they might have been flung around by the ship’s foundering, etc.)
• They were originally from the U.S., having only lived in Ireland for about a year following the death of their father.
• Albert’s first name, of course, starts with “A.” One may imagine that, perhaps, Margaret Rice might have given handkerchiefs to all her sons with their own first initials embroidered on them.
• Their hair colour is difficult to determine from photographs – it looks on the darker side to me, but this may simply be due to poor lighting.

Filip and Clarence Asplund:
I believe the Asplund boys are the strongest possible candidates for body #1, due to the following evidence:

• They have, by far, the strongest association with Danish coins out of all the boys I have examined. The Asplund family was of Swedish descent; most of their 5 children had been born in the U.S., but they later returned to Sweden and had been living there about 4 years before deciding to return once again to America in 1912. Their home in Sweden was Alseda Village, Småland, located relatively far south in the country; they certainly lived closer to Denmark than anyone else on this list, and very likely passed through it on their way to England to board the Titanic. It is even possible that the coins were not Danish but Swedish – someone more knowledgeable about early 20^th-century Scandinavian currency would have to tell me how similar they looked.
• Furthermore, as they had once lived in the U.S. and were travelling back there, it makes sense for them to have been carrying American money as well.
• Obviously, the “A” on the handkerchief could be for Asplund.
• As Swedes, the boys could very well have had light hair. It’s hard to make out their hair colour in the only known photos of them (Filip, Clarence), but surviving siblings Lillian and Felix appear to have had light hair in some photos (1, 2)
• The entire family was known to have been on one of the upper decks (Boat or A) at the end. As third-class passengers, they arrived there quite late in the sinking. Mother Selma managed to board one of the later lifeboats (I have seen boats 10, 15, 4, and Collapsible C all suggested) along with children Felix (3) and Lillian (5), but somehow the three other children – Filip, Clarence, and Lillian’s twin Carl – were left on board with their father, also named Carl. Furthermore, Carl Sr.’s body was recovered (No. 142), further proving that the Asplunds were up on deck during the final plunge.

If I had to choose between the two Asplund boys for the true identity of body #1, I would suggest that it was 9½ year old Clarence, rather than 13-year-old Filip, due to the fact that those identifying the body clearly deemed it likely to belong to a 9-year-old. However, I think either boy is a likely option.

Part III: Conclusion

None of this is to say that I think the body couldn’t have been one of the Van Billiard boys. After all, there had to be *something* that caused Walter Van Billiard to be singled out amongst all the other possible candidates. Any of the clues I pointed out in this post may have been red herrings.
Maybe the “A” handkerchiefs were a parting gift from a friend whose first or last name started with that letter, or a souvenir of some city the boy had visited. Maybe the Danish coins were simply picked up off the deck, or given to this boy by a Danish passenger for whom he had done a favor. Maybe the age estimate was far off, and the boy was actually a tall 7-year-old or a very young-looking 15-year-old. Maybe Walter really is resting alongside his father in Union Cemetery, Flourtown, Pennsylvania. In the end, unless DNA analysis is ever done, we will never know the true identity of body #1.
My personal ranking of likelihood, out of all the boys examined, is:

1. Clarence or Filip Asplund (in that order), aged 9 and 13
2. Walter or James Van Billiard, aged 9 and 10
3. Eugene Abbott, aged 13
4. Albert or George Rice (in that order), aged 10 and 8
5. William Andrew Johnston, aged 8
6. William Neal Thomas Ford, aged 14
7. Harold, William, or Charles Goodwin (in that order), aged 10, 13, and 14 – I might even bump Harold (and possibly William) up higher than William Ford due to their younger age.
8. Frederick Hopkins or William Watson, aged 14
9. George Frederick Sweet, aged 14 (almost 15)
10. Husayn Ibrahim, aged 11, or Betros Seman, aged 10
11. Anthony William Sage, aged 12 – borderline impossible as Will Sage’s ticket was found on body #67, meaning that was almost certainly him. Perhaps an onboard friend of his had stolen his ticket as a prank, or they had switched tickets to keep as mementoes of each other, but I find this quite unlikely.
12. Karl Thorsten Skoog, aged 11 – impossible; his missing or prosthetic leg would certainly have been noted.

The true tragedy of Body #1 is the fact that there are so many possible candidates for its identification. In memory of all these boys and their families who were lost on the morning of April 15^th 1912.
^\I have some doubts about the veracity of some photographs from the Titanic Pigeon Forge Museum, but the vast majority of the photos I've seen from there are genuine. I can elaborate further in the comments if anyone is interested.)

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TW: description of SA not rape
I’ve asked several therapists but none have given me an exact answer. I know that the Medusa tattoo is a symbol for SA survivors but idk if that’s just for victims of rape.
When I was 9 my dad randomly body shamed me and slapped my upper inner thigh (he was about an inch or 2 from touching my pelvic area) and he just continued to do that for the next 3 years sometimes he even touched my pelvic area with his pinky when he hit my thigh and sometimes he would squeeze my thigh for a second. He usually did all that in the car where he made me sit in the front seat even though I didn't want to.
After about a year he started coming up behind me when I was standing and leaning down slightly and cupping my butt and pelvic area, his hand would only be there for a few seconds and sometimes he would pat, when he did that he definitely touched my pelvic area.
When I asked him not to touch me or to stop he would get mad and aggressive and throw things and yell but he only did that when we were alone if we weren’t alone he would completely ignore me even if we were in a really crowded place and I would almost get lost. He would also talk down to me, body shame me, and purposely say things that would hurt me.
When I found out what rape was I was convinced that he was going to rape me and I’m 7th grade I watched porn so I wouldn’t be surprised by anything (I’m asexual so I wasn’t watching it for pleasure), I tried to kill myself several times because of him, I started self harming and I developed an eating disorder, and was diagnosed with PTSD/ have c-PTSD (can’t be diagnosed yet)
When I was 13 I finally said something and he stopped but nothing legal could be done because he said he that he wasn’t touching me with sexual intent, I’ve had people tell me that it’s not the intent it’s the impact and how it made me feel but I still don’t know if I would be allowed to get a Medusa tattoo because I don’t want to offend someone or invalidate someone.

Pitanje je više za neki drugi podreddit, ali treba mi još koji par očiju (i ušiju) da uobličim misli: dok su ljudi u Hrvatskoj, BiH i CG opsjednuti traženjem i izmišljanjem razlika od srpskog i sa srpskim, čini se da Ukrajini i Bjelorusiji ljude mnogo manje boli đon za bježanje od ruskog.
U Hrvatskoj se čak i ljevica/jugonostalgičari bavi besmislenom borbom protiv dalikanja, u Ukrajini ljudi pucaju na Ruse vičući na ruskom, u Bjelorusiji antinostalgična grupa Molčat doma pjeva na ruskom....
Zašto?
Moja je teorija a) da su bjeloruski i ukrajinski zapravo više gaženi u SSSR-u nego hrvatski/bosanski/crnogorski u SFRJ-u, i da se Bjelorusi i Ukrajinci nisu sposobni baviti jezičnim pitanjima jer su zaboravili svoje jezike, te b) da su istočnoslavenski jezici dalji jedno drugom od štokavskih jezika, pa se razlike ne moraju dokazivati i izmišljati?
Bi li zapravo bolja usporedba bila čakavski vs srpski VS ukrajinski vs ruski? Netko kome je baba vila čakavka bi govorio štokavski (jer je čakavski manje-više mrtav) sve i da otoci zarate sa svima od Vardara pa do Triglava? A opet ne bi morao sjediti i nabrajati mi kažemo ovako oni kažu onako, jer su razlike očite?

Distinguishing a skin tag vs wart is rather simple. A colorless raised flap of skin that looks like a little balloon on a stick is a skin tag. A rough, broad-based patch of thick skin is likely a wart.
Neither of these spots have hair growing from them. Like skin tags, warts are typically colorless, unless the skin where it’s formed has a color distinction. Warts are thick and deep, while skin tags remain at the surface.
Most importantly, a wart is caused by a virus and is contagious. It can spread to other people, or to other parts of your body. Skin tags are not contagious to you or anyone else.

Basically the plot revolved around a massive war across galaxies of humans vs ai/human hybrids. Think all sorts of futuristic tech, tanks, ships, planes, AI, etc. I'll paste an except from wikipedia below:
"In the far future the galaxy is ruled by a benevolent central government of humans and artificially intelligent machines called the Core. The Core's technological and economic triumphs have allowed humanity to colonize most of the milky way and enjoy a golden age of peace and prosperity. However, the peace is shattered by a technological breakthrough dubbed patterning, which allows the consciousness of a living human being to be reliably transferred into a machine, thereby granting a theoretically indefinite lifespan safe from disease, ageing, and pain.
Following a mandate imposed by the Core requiring all humans undergo patterning as a public health measure, a rebellion ensued among those who refused to abandon their natural bodies to join the Core's transition to an entirely machine society. Fleeing the developed Core worlds, the rebels established themselves in the remote rimward regions of the galaxy, coming to be known as the Arm. As hostilities escalated, the Core began duplicating their greatest military minds to mass-produce sentient war machines, and the Arm countered this buildup with a campaign of cloning bioengineered pilots for theirs; a war that would last four thousand years began."

Credit to Sekiro Dubi for the cut content restoration
Credit to Zulie
Before the PvP Arenas were released as a mini free DLC the Colosseums around the world served little purpose. Yet in cut content files we can see they were at one point intended to be visited in single player, and you'd witness an old gladiator fighting a lion guardian. But i propose these are a mockery battle of the Unsung War.

Duelist Greaves: Greaves encircled by bronze snakes. Worn by gladiators who were driven from the colosseum. The wearer becomes a slightly easier target for foes.
The snake is viewed as a traitor to the Erdtree, and the audience delighted in seeing these bronze effigies beaten and battered.

https://preview.redd.it/2nhxnce9bh5d1.png?width=1920&format=png&auto=webp&s=9415abc4b1b73f79c5c4fcd521efb8d797169ca3
Coiled snakes around his body, by far the closest character in appearance to the gladiator outfit.
https://preview.redd.it/dxw6g7c1ch5d1.jpg?width=1512&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=6b53b85954f08497faa3dd368eff663688e2aa43
Lion Guardians are most likely a descendant of the Divine Beasts the Dancing Lion boss is meant to mimic.
https://preview.redd.it/uyopaz4dch5d1.png?width=1919&format=png&auto=webp&s=cf45ba0febf75df5e9a4031b912ef2a2e7b94234
https://preview.redd.it/ulq8q24rch5d1.png?width=1916&format=png&auto=webp&s=234e6b8ee5533ef11836251999bc34c1f384a838
Messmer and the Divine Beast Dancers shown directly in conflict.
But i hear you ask, the snake is a traitor right? And Messmer lead the genocide for Marika. He did, but the question is if she sanctioned or even knew about it. Credit to Smoughtown for this idea (https://youtu.be/pAUS\_Wb2s4w?si=7YuR1vtGw9d0iznX). He proposes the Unsung War was a crusade lead by Messmer's zealousness without Marika knowing. The main 2 arguments for this are the following:

1. Messmer fled the Erdtree, and his loyal knights followed him.

https://preview.redd.it/ll62i5mmdh5d1.png?width=1312&format=png&auto=webp&s=350c4d4c332516398a660d355faa8439f2dfa21e
2) His war is named a crusade several times and he seeks to kill all without Grace
https://preview.redd.it/d5c6nfh0eh5d1.png?width=1320&format=png&auto=webp&s=863a03b3f7f0de45c0f5f89507d2db15058c1f86
We hear the line in the gameplay trailer and Smoughtown encountered an NPC invader who yells it mockingly again, that Messmer's fire will burn all without Grace. This isn't a simple war of conquest, this is a crusade, a genocide based on faith and race, an ethnic cleansing of the Hornsent, the people of Belurat. The Omen (as they are known now).
https://preview.redd.it/zrxxua6reh5d1.png?width=1199&format=png&auto=webp&s=e85446599491467bc12ffb123f0cbaf526ca4664
3) Marika doesn't seem directly responsible
This might depend on how you read the text but Smoughtown also met a ghost in Castle Ensis which prayed to Marika to "reach out" to her son and stop this crusade. The "reach out" wording implies some kind of disconnect between the two, which if the crusade itself was not sanctioned by her makes sense.
With all these together we can now see the image forming: Messmer, utterly devoted to the Erdtree, zealous more than even Marika herself, could not stand the existence of the Hornsent, and took it upon himself to erase them. Even created giant walking corpse furnace disposers for this. And for his actions, when he presented himself to his mother probably proud and expecting praise, was banished by her, the entire land he ravaged sealed away to hide this dark event in Marika's supposed Age of Plenty and Life. Later on, the memories and remnants of this war became taboo and public legend, their meanings lost to time. Messmer, a simple "Serpent", and his enemy, the pitiful and no longer divine remains of the once Divine Beasts.
Well, that's my theory. Whether the crusade being ordered or not by Marika, i feel the gladiators at least are 100% Messmer vs Divine Beast Dancers, the imagery fits way too good and near 1 to 1. Even the fire giant/fel god -ish boots the gladiators wear make sense since Messmer is almost guaranteed to be related to them in some way and his machines of war (Wicker Men) use fire giant decorations.