(Part 2 out now)
I woke up with a cough of blood and pain. I felt something metal with my hands as I looked down. A long stint of rebar poked out of my ribcage and through my chest plate, covered in a mix of my blood and the bile of a bug.
I reached down and grabbed my Senator, feeling its trusty weight in my hands. I haphazardly tried to place the barrel against the portion of rebar sticking out of my back. This had better work, I thought. I pulled the trigger once and with a loud Crack I felt the vibration from the shot in my stomach. I tried to choke down vomit and pulled the trigger twice more Crack, Crack. With the third shot the rebar gave way and I rolled to my side and collapsed on the ground. Agony shot through my body as I hit the dirt.
I realized then, Hmmph, they left me. During Extraction one of the other divers called in a 500kg as we were about to board Pelican 1. She had thrown it over one of those damned chargers in an effort to kill one last bug but... it started charging us. I was the last one in line and just as I was about to board... i was thrown 200 feet away from extraction site. I don't blame them. I'd have left me too. We had successfully evacuated a number of scientists and other military personnel, but we'd lost the planet. No hard feelings I guess.
I tried to pull my mind away from those thoughts and just focused on one. Survive. I pulled myself to my knees and looked at the rebar again. Cant park there bud, I thought tryna cheer myself up. I had dropped my senator when I fell and ended up with two free hands. I reached down and with the assistance of my servo-assited armor prepared to wrench the rebar from my chest. Alright, count of three, I thought. One my heartrate quickened. Two I adjusted my grip ever so slightly. Three I ripped the metal rod out and felt a hot stinging pain shoot through my body. I quickly grabbed a stim and applied it.
I winced as the stim numbed my broken ribs and began rapidly working to heal them and my open chest wound. After a couple seconds, I could stand.
I took quick stock of my inventory. My Senator with 23 rounds left, two ration packs, a canteen of water, 1 stim, a knife, and a bag of oatmeal. Oatmeal? Seriously? I'd rather have ammo but... beggars can't be choosers.
I looked around me. Snow and beaten down rubble surrounded me. This was some kind of research station, I think. Didn't bother grabbing the name. Cold as hell and nothing really around to get my bearings. Great. I thought. Im gonna die inside a freezer. I started looking through the rubble for anything useful. I found a corpse of one of the scientists that hadn't made it to evac. I grabbed the ID card off his jacket. Figured It'd get me inside a building if there were any left standing. I crawled out of the rubble and onto the snowy tundra.
The sun had set and with it most of the light I would've been able to utilize. I scanned the horizon for a blinking light. Blinking like meant beacon. Beacon meant possible radio, maybe some ammo. I clocked one to the southwest and began walking that direction senator drawn.
I spotted a few distant bug patrols illuminated by moonlight but they had no interest in me. I kept my head down and kept moving towards the light. Details started to take shape and I could see this was a research station. Perfect I thought.
I reached the door and used the key card. There was a Beep and the red light flashed green. The door cracked open before jamming. Oh no you dont, I thought and with one hand yanked the door open. I closed it behind me with the same hand to keep the wildlife disinterested.
Inside was dark and damp. I had lost the seal integrity on my suit so there was barely any oxygen regulation. Didn't need it on this planet but still, it's a bitch to fix. I turned my flashlight on and started scanning the room for a light switch. I found one but wouldn't ya know it... dead. At least the beacon had power. I walked over to the radio and pulled off my helmet. I wedged the flashlight in my neck and leaned my head to the side. I started flipping switches and turning dials to see if there was a response. Nothing. Id have to find the master terminal. I grabbed the flashlight and donned my helmet again. I began scanning the room again before I heard it. A little shuffle behind me. I turned quickly and drew my senator raising it at the source of the sound.
It was a small child. At least... thats what it appeared to be. At first glance I could see bindings on its legs and arms. A hospital gown with little ducklings on it and a teddy bear tucked under its arm. I lowered my senator as it spoke.
"Dr. Mehon told me to wait here. He said hed be right back."
Dr. Mehon was probably dead I thought. I knelt down and put my hand on the child's shoulder. "Whats your name kid?"
"3". I felt a rage build up. I swallowed it quickly.
"Well 3, what uh... why.. why do you have bin.." I stopped myself. Whatever those scientists were doing here...
3 looked up at me and I noticed it. A cat like set of eyes. Other little details started to click as well. Four fingers on each hand, slightly pointed ears, a discoloration of skin and a rigid scale-like spine on the shoulder.
"The radio doesnt work mister." 3 seemed to have understood their situation. "Dr Mehon destroyed it before he left."
I realized then that it was unlikely either of us would make it off this planet alive.
EDIT: Part 2 out now! (Part 2's a lil shorter) I Didnt think itd get this many upvotes and comments. Ill keep writing then. Feel free to suggest names for 3!

Taking csgo skins mainly (knives, gloves, aks, m4s, awps and so on). Anything as long as offer is good
I don't update this list everyday, so I have many items which aren't listed here. Check if something interests you! Also, some of the items are on trade hold, for release date you can add me or check by yourself.
TRADE LINK: https://steamcommunity.com/tradeoffenew/?partner=35769104&token=J30wyEpy
Add me to talk here: https://steamcommunity.com/profiles/76561197996034832
Keys from these buy outs aren't TF2 keys. I don't take Hydra keys either.
Buy outs are in keys for the sake of having a buy out, I trade for skins mainly.
Gloves/wraps:
Gloves Cool Mint FT - B/O 74 keys
Gloves Smoke Out MW - B/O 61 keys
Gloves Finish Line MW - B/O 53 keys
Gloves Turtle MW - B/O 51 keys
Wraps Overprint FT - B/O 40 keys
Gloves Rezan MW - B/O 36 keys
Gloves Polygon FT - B/O 34 keys
Gloves Lt. Commander FT - B/O 33 keys
Gloves Mogul FT - B/O 32 keys
Gloves Overtake MW - B/O 31 keys
Wraps Leather FT - B/O 31 keys
Gloves Polygon WW - B/O 30 keys
Gloves Boom FT - B/O 29 keys
Gloves POW WW - B/O 28 keys
Gloves Cool Mint BS - B/O 28 keys
Gloves Smoke Out FT - B/O 27 keys
Gloves Mogul WW - B/O 26 keys
Gloves Lunar Weave FT - B/O 25 keys
Gloves Bronze Morph FT - B/O 24 keys
Gloves Turtle FT - B/O 23 keys
Gloves Diamondback FT - B/O 22 keys
Gloves Black Tie BS - B/O 21 keys
Gloves Jade FT - B/O 20 keys
Gloves Unhinhed MW - B/O 20 keys
Gloves 3rd Commmando Company MW - B/O 19 keys
Gloves Forest Ddpat FT - B/O 18 keys
Gloves Rezan FT - B/O 18 keys
Gloves Overtake FT - B/O 17 keys
Gloves Jade BS - B/O 16 keys
Wraps Constrictor MW - B/O 16 keys
Gloves Blood Pressure BS - B/O 16 keys
Gloves Needle Point MW - B/O 16 keys
Gloves Case Hardened BS - B/O 16 keys
Gloves POW BS - B/O 16 keys
Gloves Boom BS - B/O 15 keys
Gloves Diamondback BS - B/O 15 keys
Wraps Desert Shamagh MW - B/O 15 keys
Wraps Arboreal FT - B/O 14 keys
Gloves Finish Line BS - B/O 14 keys
Gloves Rezan BS - B/O 14 keys
Gloves Yellow-banded FT - B/O 14 keys
Gloves Buckshot FT - B/O 13 keys
Gloves Needle Point FT - B/O 13 keys
Gloves Unhinged FT - B/O 13 keys
Gloves Transport FT - B/O 13 keys
Wraps Constrictor FT - B/O 13 keys
Wraps Arboreal WW - B/O 13 keys
Wraps Duct Tape FT - B/O 13 keys
Gloves Bronzed FT - B/O 13 keys
Gloves Guerrilla FT - B/O 13 keys
Wraps Desert Shamagh FT - B/O 13 keys
Gloves Convoy FT - B/O 12 keys
Gloves Guerrilla BS - B/O 12 keys
Gloves Bronzed WW - B/O 12 keys
Gloves Overtake BS - B/O 12 keys
Wraps Constrictor BS - B/O 12 keys
Gloves Emerald FT - B/O 12 keys
Wraps Duct Tape WW - B/O 12 keys
Gloves Bronzed BS - B/O 11 keys
Gloves Convoy WW - B/O 11 keys
Gloves Mangrove MW - B/O 11 keys
Gloves 3rd Commando Company WW - B/O 11 keys
Gloves Yellow-banded BS - B/O 11 keys
Gloves Transport BS - B/O 11 keys
Gloves Rattler FT - B/O 10 keys
Gloves Emerald WW - B/O 10 keys
Gloves Emerald BS - B/O 10 keys
Gloves Racing Green FT - B/O 10 keys
Knives and high tier items:
AWP Fade FN - B/O 190 keys
Glock Emerald FN - B/O 100 keys
UMP Fade FN - B/O 85 keys
Butterfly Ultraviolet FT - B/O 150 keys
Butterfly Urban Masked FT - B/O 105 keys
Butterfly Safari Mesh WW - B/O 105 keys
Kukri Crimson Web MW - B/O 135 keys
Kukri Vanilla - B/O 112 keys
Karambit Lore FT - B/O 160 keys
Karambit Freehand FN - B/O 140 keys
Karambit Rust Coat BS - B/O 105 keys
Karambit Forest Ddpat FT - B/O 90 keys
Karambit Scorched FT - B/O 90 keys
Karambit Safari Mesh MW - B/O 90 keys
M9 Safari Mesh FT - B/O 73 keys
Bayonet Case Hardened MW - B/O 80 keys
Bayonet Freehand FN - B/O 64 keys
Bayonet Stained WW - B/O 44 keys
Bayonet Rust Coat BS - B/O 42 keys
Bayonet Night FT - B/O 42 keys
Bayonet Urban Masked FT - B/O 37 keys
Talon Vanilla - B/O 90 keys
Talon Night FT - B/O 53 keys
Talon Urban Masked WW - B/O 45 keys
Talon Boreal Forest FT - B/O 45 keys
Skeleton Safari Mesh FT - B/O 41 keys
Stiletto Ultraviolet WW - B/O 41 keys
Stiletto Night WW - B/O 35 keys
Stiletto Forest Ddpat MW - B/O 34 keys
Stiletto Forest Ddpat BS - B/O 30 keys
Classic Slaughter FN - B/O 70 keys
Classic Vanilla - B/O 57 keys
Classic Case Hardened BS - B/O 34 keys
Classic Stained FT - B/O 31 keys
Classic Night MW - B/O 29 keys
Clasic Urban Masked FT - B/O 24 keys
Classic Scorched BS - B/O 22 keys
Classic Urban Masked BS - B/O 21 keys
Flip Autotronic MW - B/O 61 keys
Flip Freehand MW - B/O 40 keys
Flip Bright Water FT - B/O 36 keys
Flip Ultraviolet WW - B/O 32 keys
Flip Urban Masked MW - B/O 31 keys
Flip Rust Coat BS - B/O 30 keys
Flip Boreal Forest FT - B/O 25 keys
Ursus Case Hardened FT - B/O 43 keys
Ursus Scorched MW - B/O 21 keys
Ursus Scorched FT - B/O 20 keys
Ursus Forest Ddpat Ft - B/O 19 keys
Ursus Safari Mesh WW - B/O 18 keys
Ursus Boreal Forest BS - B/O 18 keys
Nomad Fade FN - B/O 185 keys
Nomad Urban Masked MW - B/O 56 keys
Nomad Night FT - B/O 55 keys
Nomad Scorched MW - B/O 33 keys
Nomad Scorched FT - B/O 29 keys
Nomad Urban Masked BS - B/O 25 keys
Nomad Safari MEsh FT - B/O 25 keys
Huntsman Doppler FN - B/O 95 keys
Huntsman Slaughter MW - B/O 60 keys
Huntsman Case Hardened WW - B/O 40 keys
Huntsman Lore FT - B/O 36 keys
Huntsman Blue Steel FT - B/O 35 keys
Huntsman Autotronic BS - B/O 33 keys
Huntsman Crimson Web FT - B/O 31 keys
Huntsman Black Laminate WW - B/O 25 keys
Huntsman Bright Water MW - B/O 25 keys
Huntsman Freehand FT - B/o 23 keys
Huntsman Forest Ddpat MW - B/O 22 keys
Huntsman Ultraviolet FT - B/O 21 keys
Huntsman Ultraviolet BS - B/O 21 keys
Huntsman Scorched FT - B/O 20 keys
Huntsman Rust Coat BS - B/o 19 keys
Huntsman Safari Mesh BS - B/O 19 keys
Huntsman Boreal Forest FT - B/O 19 keys
Bowie Marble Fade FN - B/o 53 keys
Bowie Case Hardened MW - B/O 48 keys
Bowie Case Hardened FT - B/O 40 keys
Bowie Case Hardened BS - B/O 35 keys
Bowie Crimson Web WW - B/O 30 keys
Bowie Autotronic FT - B/O 29 keys
Bowie Freehand FT - B/o 23 keys
Bowie Bright Water FN - B/O 22 keys
Bowie Ultraviolet FT - B/O 20 keys
Bowie Bright Water FT - B/O 19 keys
Bowie Black Laminate WW - B/O 19 keys
Bowie Forest Ddpat WW - B/o 18 keys
Bowie Night BS - B/O 18 keys
Bowie Safari Mesh FT ST - B/O 18 keys
Bowie Boreal Forest FT - B/o 17 keys
Bowie Forest Ddpat FT - B/O 17 keys
Falchion Emerald FN - B/O 210 keys
Falchion Gamma Doppler FN P3 - B/O 80 keys
Falchion Lore FT - B/O 33 keys
Falchion Crimson Web FT - B/O 30 keys
Falchion Freehand FT - B/O 25 keys
Falchion Black Laminate MW - B/O 21 keys
Falchion Bright Water FT - B/O 21 keys
Falchion Safari Mesh MW ST - B/O 19 keys
Falchion Night BS - B/O 19 keys
Falchion Urban Masked BS - B/O 18 keys
Falchion Boreal Forest FT - B/O 18 keys
Paracord Stained FT - B/O 21 keys
Paracord Stained WW - B/O 20 keys
Paracord Safari Mesh FT - B/O 15 keys
Paracord Safari Mesh WW - B/O 15 keys
Survival Case Hardened MW - B/O 43 keys
Survival Case Hardened FT - B/O 35 keys
Survival Case Hardened WW - B/O 28 keys
Survival Case Hardened BS - B/O 27 keys
Survival Stained FT - B/O 21 keys
Survival Boreal Forest MW ST - B/O 19 keys
Survival Forest Ddpat FT - B/O 16 keys
Survival Safari Mesh MW - B/O 16 keys
Survival Boreal Forest BS - B/O 15 keys
Survival Safari Mesh WW - B/O 15 keys
Navaja Doppler FN P1 - B/O 38 keys
Navaja Vanilla - B/O 29 keys
Navaja Case Hardened FT - B/O 25 keys
Navaja Tiger Tooth FN - B/O 25 keys
Navaja Case hardened WW - B/O 21 keys
Navaja Damascus Steel FN - B/O 18 keys
Navaja Night Stripe BS ST - B/O 17 keys
Navaja Blue Steel MW - B/O 17 keys
Navaja Blue Steel BS - B/o 16 keys
Navaja Damascus Steel MW - B/o 16 keys
Navaja Blue Steel FT - B/O 16 keys
Navaja Damascus Steel WW - B/O 15 keys
Navaja Rust Coat BS - B/O 15 keys
Navaja Damascus Steel WW - B/O 15 keys
Navaja Rust Coat WW - B/O 15 keys
Navaja Damascus Steel FT - B/O 15 keys
Navaja Night MW - B/O 15 keys
Navaja Ultraviolet FT - B/O 15 keys
Navaja Stained WW - B/O 15 keys
Navaja Night FT ST - B/O 15 keys
Navaja Scorched MW - B/O 14 keys
Navaja Ultraviolet BS - B/O 14 keys
Navaja Boreal Forest MW - B/O 14 keys
Navaja Urban Masked WW - B/O 14 keys
Navaja Night FT - B/O 14 keys
Navaja Urban Masked FT - B/O 14 keys
Navaja Night BS - B/o 14 keys
Daggers Sapphire FN ST - B/o 110 keys
Daggers Tiger Tooth FN - B/O 26 keys
Daggers Case Hardened WW - B/O 22 keys
Daggers Case Hardened FT - B/O 22 keys
Daggers Crimson Web BS - B/O 18 keys
Daggers Autotronic FT - B/O 18 keys
Daggers Autotronic BS - B/O 17 keys
Daggers Damascus Steel MW - B/O 17 keys
Daggers Blue Steel WW - B/O 16 keys
Daggers Damascus Steel FT - B/O 15 keys
Daggers Urban Masked WW - B/O 15 keys
Daggers Ultraviolet BS - B/O 15 keys
Daggers Scorched WW - B/O 15 keys
Daggers Black Laminate MW - B/O 15 keys
Daggers Bright Water MW - B/O 15 keys
Daggers Boreal Forest MW - B/o 14 keys
Daggers Bright Water FT - B/O 14 keys
Daggers Night FT - B/O 14 keys
Daggers Forest Ddpat FT - B/O 14 keys

Prologue

Hello and welcome to my post. I will subdivide this into two large parts. One will cover my thoughts, feelings, my hopes and dreams...While the other will tell you the specifics of how I pass the time, what topics interest me, what passions do I posses. I believe that at the end of this leap into my inner world, you dear reader, will have all the necessary information to judge whether we are compatible or not.

Part I
I am writing this in the hopes of finding something that I lack. Lately I have had this feeling, this tinge of melancholy within the dephts of my being, this yearning to find a kindred spirit, another Soul, much like mine, to form a bond with. Perhaps Loneliness is the right word for what is bothering me, but to use it seems to carry with it a connotation of ungratefulness. Ungratefulness for the people that I do have in my life, although none of them, of course, have the connection to me that I seek here.

I have found it increasingly necessary to seek in this Life a sort of purity of thought. What I mean is, I have began to undestand what ideas and concepts are ultimately compatible with my inner most Self, ergo what guidelines I have to follow to feel the most whole. Naturally I have likewise realised what I cannot add to my Self and what I will henceforth reject with all the power that I posses.

With this new context in mind, I now follow on the path of self improvement. I will now begin to mold my Self into my perfected idea of how the Self should be. This is certainly a significant undertaking, one that will not be easy to follow through on but one that I ultimately have to do. To me such context is essential. It is akin to a Guiding Star shining in the night. I will follow this Star for without it I am lost in the vast Darkness.

Looking back at my life, it was suboptimal, especially if one compares the way it molded me to how I will now mold myself. I suppose I must look on with a hint of regret at all that time which one might consider to be lost. Still... I try to stave off such decisively negative interpretations, after all, I have ultimately came to these conclusions. That means that somewhere along the line I had to have picked up on enough of such ideas for them to become so cemented in my consciousness. Well, either that or I was always like this, but in that case I can at least thank my life up to this point for not being able to supress such manifestations of my inner most Self.

To add to the topic of my life, I must admit that not all the battles have yet been won, not all the Demons vanquished, not every Mountain climbed. I want you to keep such things in mind when deciding whether or not to approach me. Many will shy away, I undestand that much, but the pursuit of true Companionship is just another such battle. Having said all that I do believe that being able to overcome hurdles together carries with it a certain appeal. That is to say, what's the fun in joining once the Game is already over?

I don't shy away from such challenges, perhaps to a fault. Certain troubles that I faced in the past carry with them a long shadow over my current health and well being. Still, I intend to change little in this regard other than the proficiency with which I will clash the current of my Will against the cliffs of Life.
Part II
In this part of my post I will tell you about my interests and hobbies, I will try to be thorough, commonality in this regard is rather important to build a relationship
History. I have had an interest in history for almost a decade now, it started back in school and developed from there. Well, now that I think about it one could argue that it started even earlier in my life as I liked watching the odd historic documentary or film aired on television but it wasn't regular back then, I never actively sought it out. I am mostly interested in European history in the period between the 18th-20th century but I sometimes branch out to other time periods and other parts of the world. I watch various channels related to history and read articles and sometimes books. I have recently got a few books on the German revolution of 1848/1849 and a historical magazine on the Thirty Years' War. Besides that I try to visit museums sometimes.
Literature. Especially old novels. I like to immerse myself in the Worlds of these books, I tend to read them while listening to thematically fitting music and take my time with them. One time you are following a troubled Youth in his quest for spiritual understanding of the world, another you see the aged and decrepit Doctor gambling his very Soul on the promises of abtaining satisfaction in earthy pleasures, then again your olfaction notices the most pleasant scent known to man even as the one eminating it has the appearance of a revolting Frog. These and many other stories open up to you once you decide to set foot into the literary World.
Languages. I know three, with one being a bit rusty. I am currently working intently on strengthening it. I believe that if I continue to apply myself in this regard then I should be able to finally conquer it. What language am I working on? Well, if you were to stack all the major works in it they would be as tall as a house... It is fun to go through different works in multiple languages, the same goes for film, games and such.
Games. I recently played Cyberpunk 2077. Well as recently as I played any major story centric game. Now that the dust has settled and the bugs mostly removed...It's not that bad. The main questline at least. Besides that I tried Fallout 76 (Very average, I'm dissapointed with what they made the "RPG" system) and I might give Deus Ex Manking Divided another spin (since it's somewhat similar to Cyberpunk when it comes to its aesthetics). Dark Souls is one of my favorite series, I still haven't beaten Elden Ring though. When it came out I wasn't in the right mindset to invest a hundred hours into it, with all those bosses and difficult locations. I think I'll only consider playing it if I am streaming it to someone. I am generally interested in either streaming games or having the person I am talking to stream them to me. To be specific I mean streaming to a single person while being on call. Besides that I'm a big fan of Paradox strategy games, especially Europa Universalis IV and Heats of Iron IV, I tend to only play single player since I find multiplayer with many people to be rather stressful but on the other hand I have nothing against a co-op game. I'm not the best player though, despite the ammount of hours I have in them. Another great game I would mention would be Dragon's Dogma. A very underrated RPG. I recently beat it again and it was an atmospheric and interesting experience. It is one of those games that feel like they have an endless ammount of depth and constant new secrets to discover.
Anime and Manga. In recent times my interest in them has waned but I still watch the occasional series here and there. Like Cyberpunk Edgerunners (Which I found to be rather mediocre) and the very good first season from the new arc of Bleach. Some of my favourite series include: Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood, Death Note, Fate;Zero, Psycho Pass, Code Geass and Attack on Titan. I wouldn't mind if you were to introduce me to some new series, maybe based on the ones I mentioned. My favourite Manga is Berserk which I still follow, althought I am still not certain on the direction that the new author is taking. I suppose it really is a matter of contention whether a somewhat (or considerably warped) vision is better than an unfinished work. One could argue that a few novels remain unfinished and possess a macabre appeal to them as such.
Music. Classical music has a very special place in my heart. A few of my favourite pieces would be: Clair de Lune, Nocturne Op. 9 No.2, Devil's Trill Sonata, Danse Macabre, Valse Sentimentale, Symphony No. 7 in A Major, Op. 92: II. Alegreto (by Beethoven) and Suite from Swan Lake, Op. 20a: I. Scene. Moderato. There are more but these ones always invoke something in me when I listen to them. Besides Classical I also enjoy listening to Synthwave, old Western pop and J-pop, both modern and from the 20th century.
Esotericism. I am interested in things spiritual, mystical, magical and esoteric. I have read religios texts, magical grimoires, introductions to various schools of thought. It is interesting to me.
Epilogue
Hopefully I was able to cast the spotlight upon my inner World in a clear and unequivocal manner. I feel the need to add to the aforementioned that I am rather introverted, which means that I tend to dislike large social gatherings. I managed to condition myself to be able to endure the presense of large groups of people but it isn't something that I would seek out in most cases. Besides that I am neurodivergent and suffer from certain issues with mental health. I have to take medication to keep myself under control. They work well enough but certain days are harder than others. I respect the struggle that others have with mental health but in the context of a relationship I have my limits, no one with BDP for instance. I am also not looking for anything casual. I understand than one cannot demand depth and meaning from a conversation with an absolute stranger, that is akin to trying to build a sand castle right before the waves strike but I ask at least that you enter with a mindset that this might become something of significance. I also do want to say that I am completely Monogamous. My preference? The sickly, pale, intellectual who watches rain droplets slide down the window in Autumn. Lastly, if I enjoy the company of a person I tend to not want to let them go.
Thank you for taking the time to read my post and have a good day. I ask that you send a DM instead of a chat and that you give the English translation of my title as your own.
Goodbye...Or perhaps untill we meet again

27 year old Asian male. No smoke. Occasionally drink beer
i first noticed a new mole on the bottom of my left foot about six months ago. At first it was just a tiny black dot barely noticeable but it has been slowly growing. Now it is about 1mm in diameter. Should I be concerned could it be skin cancer ？
photo of it :https://ibb.co/b5wDb96

I Accepted a Job to Film on the Dark Web
Man, I am pumped to tell you chronically online content addicts my story. Wait is that too mean of an intro? Will this get taken down for harassment since I painted too accurate a picture of the people on this site? Sorry, everyone, I’m sure you all smell like an expensive bakery and have touched grass this morning. Anyway, I promise I have something interesting. It even involves the dark web you uncreative writers cream yourselves over! I mean, totally real people speaking about their strangely similar experiences. Okay, fine I’ll stop bullying you through the screen before you click off.
This all started when I was seven years old and my parents were killed in front of me in an anti-indigenous hate crime, but let's be real you don’t care. I’m just some annoying Cherokee kid with dead parents so I’ll skip to the good parts. I spent years in an orphanage, gradually becoming more interested in death and violence. As bad as it is, I went out of my way to expose myself to that content in the hopes of desensitizing myself. Which ended up working too well, since now I’m obsessed with causing and viewing pain, though I don’t find any joy in hurting myself.
I got adopted at twelve and after a few months of staying at my new family’s home on the reservation, I went with them to a state sweatier than the average Reddit user, California. Long story short, both of my caretakers, whom I referred to as Uncle and Auntie because they could never be my parents, died. Leaving me in the care of their older son, who I call cousin. I’m not stupid enough to give up any real names, so I’ll call him Brick, cause he’s as dumb as one. He was in his early 20s when he was tasked with taking care of me and is the world’s worst excuse for a babysitter.
I’m almost always alone at the apartment, with him only coming by to drop off supplies and stay for a few hours so the neighbors don’t get too worried. Unless I get in trouble at school, then he’d suddenly give a shit. It's useful because he doesn't about the gory stuff I look at, but some display of interest would be nice. Oh well, ninety percent of the population sucks so he’s just part of the majority. Now, with that said, you’ll be able to understand the perfect storm that led me here. During my time on the deep web, I found a particular website that caught my eye. They had new footage relatively consistently and they were the easiest for me to access since I didn't go too far into the dark web, especially with all the honey pots lying around.
I even bought a couple of files for myself to study and admire. One thing irritated me though, the cameraman. He was always sobbing, breathing, shaking, or some combination of those. It seriously killed the vibe of the killings. Something I commented on under many videos, often saying I would do a better job filming. A choice that in hindsight was me asking to end up in one of those recordings. I didn't think anything of it at the time. I was mostly the only one who commented but I was sure they wouldn't care. I was embarrassingly wrong.
I was staying up like usual, but it was past one AM on a school night, and back then that was a lot so I tried to sleep. Closing my eyes, tossing and turning, the works. I had just started drifting off when I heard the front door open. I remained calm but immediately found it weird since Brick never showed up this late. The thuds of the individual's feet grew louder as they got closer to my bedroom. I tried to convince myself it wasn't a stranger, especially since they got in with ease, but I knew that was wishful thinking.
They hummed as they opened my door. My dumbass had left it unlocked. I remained on my side, trying to look like I was asleep. They turned on the flashlight of their phone, shining it in my face. It was hard but I stayed still while they traced it over my features. I could tell they were smiling as they clicked their tongue.
“Heh, I knew it was a brat,” they whispered to themselves, pulling tangles out of my hair. Something I struggled not to groan from. They pulled up the hair over my ear and got so close spit got on my ear lobe.
“I know you’re awake kid,” they murmured, putting a blade to my neck. I let them grab my shoulder and move me onto my back, I knew how to fight but I wasn't about to take that big a risk with the position they had me in.
“You think you’re so cool saying you can do better than our guy.” they snickered, kneeling, their flashlight still shining in my face.
“Do you seriously believe that?” they questioned, moving the light away.
“Yeah, I do.” I stood my ground, they might have been intimidating but I wasn't gonna let that stop me from being honest.
“I wouldn't sound like I’m gonna piss myself every time it gets gory. I’m confident I could get better footage too, getting up close is something I’ve fantasized about.”
They clicked their tongue again and ran their finger over the bridge of my nose.
”Well, I know you’re a big fan of what we do, and you’re confidence makes me think you got something to back those claims up, so how’d you like a deal?”
I was surprised by how civil they were being aside from the touching and weapon against my throat.
“What kind of deal?” I asked, for all I knew this guy wanted me to lick their feet or some weird shit like that. They placed a finger underneath my eye, tracing a half moon with their nail.
“You have till this Friday to film a video of you killing an animal and put it on a flash drive that I’ll pick up here. If it impresses me and the crew we’ll hire ya with a handsome salary.” They began, moving their hand down to my cheek.
“But if you don't show, or it doesn't meet our standards, then I’m fucking up one of the parts of your face.” They warned, pinching my skin harshly.
“And if I say no to this deal?”
They put their hand over my mouth, scratching my lips.
“That’s cute, if you say no I’ll just slit your throat.” they grinned.
“Or rip it open with my teeth if you got a preference,” they smirked, before running their tongue across their sharp teeth.
“Okay, since I have no choice I’ll go with it, but I’m telling you now I can give you something way better than what you likely expect of me.” I prefaced, looking into their sunken eyes. They scratched my scalp, including the side of my head that was shaved.
“Good choice, I’ll be back to pick it up and if you're not here I’ll assume you don’t have the video. I genuinely wish you luck, because you’ll need it.” they removed the blade from my neck and walked away. I sat still for a few minutes in the dark, processing what had happened and wondering how they got into my apartment with such ease. I was confident I could blow their sniveling excuse of a cameraman out of the water, but I was worried about the people I was getting caught up with.
Sure, I had been on a lot of gore sites over the years but I was always just watching and occasionally commenting. Compared to most in the scene I wasn't much of a threat. I could defend myself and have contemplated killing for years but I hadn't murdered anyone or worse. Plus, I am part of way too many targeted groups to not be constantly at risk. Teenage, fem-leaning, two-spirit, indigenous kid with trauma? Yeah, I might as well be walking sign screaming “Hate crime me”.
So yeah, there was a lot to worry about. Regardless, I couldn't let that fear hold me back. I had a job to do and a group of sickos to appease. The next morning was rough, I got no sleep cause I’d spent all night brainstorming. I barely mustered the energy to change and drank straight mouthwash instead of brushing my teeth. Slogging onto the bus with drool on my cheek, I went to the back like usual. No one sat there cause, the seats were extra worn down, and I scared off anyone who attempted to with my active, rabies-infected bitch face. That day was different though.
I blanked on his name and where I knew him from, but I recognized his wavy hair and prominent curved nose. He glanced at each seat on the bus, before somehow settling on my area. He tried to give me space but ultimately seated himself beside me after realizing it was the only spot that didn't look like it would give him cancer. I glared at him as I did with everyone, but it didn't phase him.
“You know you could pick anywhere else right?” I murmured. He stared at the floor, then at me.
“I’m aware, but a few months ago I started a mission to sit on every part of this bus, and this is the last place.” he smiled, his lips softly curving at the sides.
“What’s the point of that?”
His mouth moved into a more neutral position, but his eyes kept smiling.
“I just thought it would be neat to see the same place from a bunch of different perspectives.” he took out his phone and snapped a photo from the point of view where he was sitting. Maybe my sleepiness made my bitch face less effective, cause he hadn't shown a hint of fear, which kind of annoyed me.
“That’s cool I guess, but I wouldn't do that if I were you. I’ve done some back here alone that would make your skin crawl.” in hindsight my attempt at unnerving him just made me sound like a pervert, which is probably why he held back laughter. Trying to hide a chuckle by clearing his throat.
“Hey, it's not my business what you do, no matter how Haram it is. It’s your life so that’s between you and whatever you believe in. Just don’t shake hands with me.” he joked, playfully putting his hands up. Strangely, I remembered his name at that moment.
“Oh shit, you’re Abdul! We have art together.” I sat up, haphazardly slamming my hand down on my leg.
“Uh yeah, I’ve seen some of your paintings, they’re pretty cool. I like the way you texture them, I’m trying to work on that.” he complimented, seeming more weirded out by my sudden energy than my accidental insinuation. I felt a little stupid for yelling his name but decided not to dwell on it.
“Thanks, you’re stuff is nice, and you’re good at shading.”
He stretched his arms while thanking me. We talked for a few more minutes, taking jabs at each other throughout. Turns out he was better at being an asshole than his artsy charismatic appearance made me think. The thing setting our insults apart being that you could tell he was a loving person underneath. It was the nicest conversation I had with anyone in a while. Though he could tell I was tired so he quieted down, letting me sleep, waking me when we got to school. We went our separate ways until the last two periods we shared. All that time, I spent my remaining energy plotting how I was going to handle the video. What I’d kill, record with, and how to dispose of the evidence. It was a lot to consider, but through three classes I devised a plan.
I’d find a stray around my apartment complex and take it out in my room. Record it on a portable camera since I broke the ones on my phone, no, I will not be answering how that happened. Then once I had my footage I’d put the body in a trash bag, throw it in the complex’s garbage, and clean the blood off my floor. It didn't seem like Brick would come by so he wasn't a factor I thought I’d have to consider. The plan was almost too easy, but I decided to believe in Occam’s razor. I got so lost in thought that by the time I reached Art, which was my second-to-last period, I didn't process that we were moving seats.
“She called your name,” Abdul reminded me. Our teacher placed us next to each other at our four-person table. The two girls sitting with us were already friends, so I didn't bother to say anything, but I was interested in talking to him more.
“So, what do you think of this assignment?” He shrugged, taking out his sketchbook.
“I’m not that good at drawing people, but the idea of combining two people’s faces into a portrait seems interesting. Any ideas on who you’ll pick?”
“Probably the members of the music duo Brain Tumor, they’re my favorite artists and they both look weird as hell.”
“Wow way to talk about your favorites, if that’s what you say about them I can‘t imagine what you have to say about me.” he joked, pulling up reference pictures.
“First, it’s not an insult, second I don’t have anything to say about you. Brain and Tumor have features and styles that make them stand out. Sure they’re ugly, but it just adds to their visual charm. Hot people are boring, there’s nothing to pick at.” I explained, unzipping my bag.
“Oh, so you’re saying you think I’m hot.”
His comment wasn’t serious but it kind of got to me.
“Shit, that’s not what I meant, I was trying to say you’re boring. All hot people are boring, but not all boring people are hot, okay?” I explained, flipping to a clean page.
“Alright, but if I’m so bland then why talk to me?”
I hesitated, contemplating how much of a dick I was gonna be.
“Because it means you probably need some spice in your life, which I can provide.”
He began sketching a head on his paper.
“I like spices, but I feel like you’re the kind of person to dump a cabinet’s worth onto me.”
I flicked my pencil over to his side of the desk, putting on a mocking grin.
“Aww, you scared I’m gonna get you into trouble?”
He picked up the pencil and started using it, putting his on my side.
“No, ‘cause I’m good at setting boundaries. I’m more concerned that you’ll get annoyed with how unafraid of you I am.”
I stared at him for a moment, I hadn't expected to hear that.
“Jeez, man you didn't have to read me like that.”
He shrugged, observing the red paint from past projects that lay on my pencil.
“It's not hard to figure out, just this morning you were trying to push me away on the bus. Lucky, or unlucky, for you I want you to have a friend and you seem like a fun person.”
“Wait are you saying I have no friends?” I squinted at him.
“Well, do you?”
I didn't answer.
“If your response is silence I suggest you take up my offer.”
I was stunned, to be honest. No one had offered to be my friend since 6th grade, and that didn't last long. Of course, I accepted it, but for the rest of the period, there was an awkwardness in my mind. As pathetic as it sounds I wasn't used to others genuinely enjoying my company like he did. Which was partly by design cause I get joy out of scaring people away, but still. I forgot how it felt to have conversations about normal things like art. He had such a nice smile too, usually when I see a grin I want to slap it off, but I liked his. His voice was also nice, it’s hard to describe what in particular but it was easy on the ears.
Okay, I’m starting to get off-topic. I’ll skip to the important part. Toward the end of class, he started talking about how he was interested in filmmaking and got a portable video camera as a gift at last year’s Eid. He didn't have it on him, but he showed me a picture.
“Heh, that’s funny, I bought the same one a month ago.” I pointed out.
“Yeah, it's a popular model, I’m still getting the hang of it though cause I’m so used to using my phone.”
“Well, maybe I could bring you over to my place or vice versa after school and I can help you out.” I suggested.
He smiled, putting his phone back in his pocket.
“I thought you said you’ve only had it for a month? You know I can always look up tutorials from trained professionals.” he reminded me with a notable smugness that I'd used with him before.
“Well those guys are stuffy and I’m a fast learner.”
He redirected his attention back to his page, picking his pencil up.
“Alright, I suggest we go somewhere public instead. You’re not exactly the kind of person I want to bring home to my parents right away. Plus they always need to meet my friends and their guardians before I hang out at their home.”
I gave an exaggerated sigh, stretching my back.
“Aw man, looks like we can’t get high in my murder pit during our first hangout.”
He didn't respond for a solid few seconds.
“Wait, you do know I'm joking right?”
He shrugged, the smile in his eyes appearing again.
“I mean, one of those things is a little less believable than the other.” he snickered, and I laughed with him.
We set up a time and a date, which is where I screwed myself. He ended up being busy with projects from his other classes and family which just left us with Friday, the same day I had to submit the video. Now, did I tell him I wouldn't be able to make it? No, of course not, because I decided to be stupid and even more overconfident. I said that I’d one hundred percent be able to hang out with him after school like I didn't have a mutilator who was going to drop by my place at an unknown time.
The rest of the day went over fine but that bad timing led me to feel like a dick later. When I got home I was able to write out my plan, even sketching a few specifics of what I’d do. It was more exciting than when I’d been brainstorming, but this is when the gravity of the situation began to set in. When I said I’d fantasized about killings I meant it. I mean my teddy with twenty-five stab wounds should say enough. Regardless this would be the first time real blood was on my hands.
It made me feel powerful, but a little afraid. I’ve heard stories of people thinking that it would be an awesome experience and then feeling like shit. I doubted I’d be one of those people but still. Plus, I didn't exactly trust the guy who gave me this job. There was a good chance that this whole situation was rigged and they’d kill me no matter how good the video was. Or worse turn me into the feds and expose my collection. Honestly, if that happened I’d probably eat a shot to avoid going to jail. Wait, can I say that on this platform? Okay to the mods, that was a joke, I want to live a long life. Ugh, I’m doing a terrible job of staying on track. The point is there was a lot up in the air despite it being a matter of life or death.
I knew I’d go through with it but it was still a lot less straightforward than it initially seemed. I wracked my brain to remember where most of the cats stayed and tried to come up with a good way to lure one without raising suspicion. This also proved harder than first thought because I didn't think to account for the cat man, an old guy who lived alone and fed all the cats in our dingy complex while also housing a few. Knowing how obsessive he was he’d probably notice if one of them disappeared. Then again not all the cats return consistently or at all. It makes more sense that he’d think one of them was run over rather than slaughtered. It was getting late again so I rested my head for a moment, a bad move cause I ended up falling asleep at my desk. Not even changing out of the clothes I’d worn before, I woke up late and barely caught the bus the next morning.
I went to my usual spot but Abdul had already taken it. He patted the area next to it, which he’d covered in a towel, a smart move knowing how nasty it was. People gave me a few dirty looks as normal, which I smiled at. I stretched, my mind slightly less out of it than the previous morning.
“Uh, you do realize that-”
“Yeah, I know I’m wearing the same clothes.”
Abdul looked me up and down, his eyes remaining soft, but with a mix of concern and judgment. He set his backpack down and took off his sweater handing it to me.
“Dude what are you-”
“Look I don't know what led to you not being able to change but I think you should at least have a fresh top.”
I was surprised he was offering me something to wear but I took it.
“Uh, thanks, I’ll change into it later.”
He nodded as I put it in my backpack.
“You know you didn't have to do that.” I reminded him.
“Well there’s a lot of stuff I don’t have to do, but I do it because I want to, and I wanted to help you out.”
He smiled, his face still warmer than an Arizona summer. I got a strange feeling in my chest at that moment, I still can’t tell if it was good or bad.
“Well, thanks, I'll give it back to you tomorrow.”
We talked a little more and he mentioned something that caught my attention.
“Have you heard about all the animals that have been turning up dead?”
My eyes widened with surprise.
“No, I haven't, when did you hear about that?”
He pulled on his long-sleeve shirt.
“My sister said her friend who works at a shelter noticed a bunch of animals were getting adopted by people around the same time, and since then gore videos with them have been showing up. She found out through her co-worker who was emailed it by some random creep.”
I covered my mouth and looked away to hide the smile growing on my face. He had just given me the perfect cover-up without knowing. Now if I killed an animal people had an entire violent ring to connect it to instead of me! I stayed quiet for a minute because I could tell he’d likely see through any phony sad sounds I made.
“Oh wow, that’s awful, do you think they’ll ever find out the people behind it?”
He sighed, running his hand through his wavy hair.
“I hope so, for now, all we can do is pray that no more animals get hurt.”
I couldn't contain my grin as he said that so sincerely like animals and people didn't die constantly and that taking down one group would somehow stop the issue.
“Is there some joke I don’t get?” he furrowed his brow.
“Uh, no, sorry I smile when nervous.”
His gaze softened again, and he didn't press further.
His bringing up the animal killings ended up being the exact push I needed to get my hands dirty. I’d spent the entire day before planning so it was time to put that plan into action. I stole some cat treats that the cat man had laid out and spread them around my apartment which was on the bottom floor. Waiting for one of them to take the bate outside my window was pretty boring but one of them came after a few minutes. A scraggly brown and black cat with a tuft of fur missing on one side of his head. It's messed up but I felt like a little less of an asshole for taking him in since he looked like he was already struggling. I scooped him up and he didn't attempt to fight back.
“Hey there buddy” I waved, feeding him some more food. His eyes had a lot of crust on them, it was kinda gross but I don’t have the right to say with how often I wash my jeans. After a minute or two he let me pet him. I knew making any kind of attachment was bad but I thought it was the right thing to do so he’d fall into a sense of security. I was just about to take him into my room when the door opened.
“Hey, I’m back with groceries!” my shithead cousin announced with two plastic bags in his hands. He looked down to see me with the cat, his eyebrows raising.
“Aw come on, you know we can’t afford a pet.”
He groaned placing the bags on a table and unloading them.
“I know, but he doesn't look like he’s got a lot of life in him I at least want to help him feel better before he kicks the bucket!”
Brick rolled his eyes, putting the cereal box on top of the fridge
“Jeez, did you even think about what diseases he might have? His eyes look puffy what if he has something that can get you sick?”
He had valid concerns which was surprising since he’s usually stupid, but I was still annoyed with him.
“I’m sure he’s fine, I’ll even try to wash him, just please let me hold onto him for a little.”
He folded his arms looking down at us.
“Have you even named him?”
I froze for a second, before using the first thing that came to mind, which ended up being pretty awful knowing my plans.
“Cash cow.” I blurted, awkwardly patting his head.
“Honestly that’s better than what I was expecting. I was sure you’d pick ‘Hellspawn Mcgee’ or something else corny.”
He meant to make fun of me but honestly, I would have named him that if I had more time.
“Ugh, anyway I got those dumb chips you like.”
He then pulled out a bag of the wrong chips.
“Dude those are the wrong ones, this is the third time you’ve mixed up the flavors.”
He threw them at me, scaring the cat slightly.
“Well, I pay for it so you shouldn't be so picky. Anyway, while I was in line I picked up something you might be into.”
He then tossed me a trashy teen magazine. One of my least favorite sorry excuses for an influencer on the cover.
“This is a joke, right?”
I couldn't believe my own adopted brother gave such little shit in my interests.
“I don't know, you decided to start being a girl for real this time so I thought the makeup tips on page ten would help you out.”
I scrunched my face at his comment.
“Dude I’ve been this way for years, just because I started wearing more makeup and dresses doesn't mean I’m more of a girl than when I didn't. I know you won’t get the two-spirit thing but come on.”
He shrugged, seeing me done with me even though he’d just shown up.
“Yeah well hey I’m trying. Anyway, just so you know a friend of mine is coming here Friday.”
My heart stopped.
“Wait why here? You live elsewhere why can’t you assholes go there or their place!”
He slammed his fist on the table.
“Will you shut the fuck up!”
He screamed with a phrase I’d grown numb to.
“I don't know, to be honest, something about wanting to move into this complex and this being a way to scout it out. I’m just letting you know now so you don’t act like a complete freak.”
“Jokes on you I’ll piss in whatever shitty beer you bring just cause you said that!”
I yelled back raising my voice higher than his. He face-palmed before putting the plastic bags in the drawer under the sink.
“Whatever, you and your ketamine-addict-looking cat have fun,” he told me while seating himself on the couch. I picked up the cat and walked into the bathroom to clean it. I closed the door and placed him in the dry tub. Using a small disposable mouthwash cup I got a little bit of water. I hadn't had a pet before so I wasn't sure how to approach the task. I dipped my fingers in the water and carefully pet it while pouring s small bit down his back. Any other cat would fight back but he just made pissed-off noises without doing anything.
I scrapped my old shampoo bottle and kneaded it into his thin fur. His skin was bumpy and dry beneath the hair so scrubbing it was uncomfortable. I made sure to avoid getting soap in its eyes but I did pull away some of the crust on its lids. His pupils were so clouded I was surprised that he could see at all, making me feel even more sure that he would be on its way out with or without me.
After drying him I set him on a beat-up shirt I wore when modifying clothes. He sunk his claws into it a few times, playing with a loose string. I ignored him for the rest of the night, hopping into the shower and changing for bed. His meows woke me up a few times but I tuned it out after a while, reminding myself that he wouldn’t be my cat for long.
The next day was Thursday and there wasn't a second that passed by where the weight of the murder I’d have to commit didn't weigh on me. I seriously shot myself in the foot by taking care of that scruffy, pubic hair pile. I was supposed to be hyped about killing it, after all, I’d dreamed and seen way worse than what I was going to do. Yet once I got home and started setting up I felt grosser with each step. I decided to record it in my bathroom instead of my bedroom so it would be harder to connect to me. I set down a few fabric scraps and a worn-out beach towel, placing it all inside a tub for easier cleanup later.
“Okay, I guess it's time,” I mumbled to myself. I brought the cat in and placed it down, setting up my camera once it was comfortable. I also wore my most generic clothes in addition to a mask, putting my hair in a bun for sanitation. When I saw the flicker of red showing that the camera was on I felt I was dreaming. I smiled, excited that I’d get to live out my violent desires. Yet, when I looked down at its pathetic frame and confused expression those urges left me.
I rationalized what I was doing, reminding myself how many animals die all the time and that I’d been forced into this, but it didn't help much in the end. I won’t get into it but under the pressure of impressing the group Cash Cow didn't go out as fast as I would have liked for a first task. Getting rid of the evidence was especially rough, the textures were pretty nasty, to put it mildly. It was surreal watching the blood go down the tub drain and gradually drip off my hands as I rinsed them. I couldn't conjure a single thought the entire time I cleaned it up.
Whether I was wringing out the clothes or putting the remains in plastic bags, it didn't matter. All I could focus on was the task at hand, with hints of disgust along the way. I ended up finishing at three AM. My hands were wrinkled and shook once I settled. I won’t deny that during the murder I didn't hate it. Slashing into something was fun and it made me feel strong. Still, it wasn't nearly as fulfilling as I expected it to be. Part of it was guilt, but it was mostly disappointment. I’d built it up for years and it wasn't earth shatteringly good or bad.
Overall, I expected to feel more, but it just left me hollow with an uncomfortable itch. There was no way I’d ever be able to see the tub the same way, hell I don’t think I’ll ever use it again. Luckily I almost always shower anyway so it's not too big of a deal. I watched a few horror game videos, trashed everything, changed and went to bed.
My scalp hurt like a bitch the morning since I kept my hair in that stupid bun. Despite getting less sleep than the past two days I held myself together a bit better in the morning. I brushed my teeth, changed, and had some fried bread before getting on the bus. Regardless I looked like complete shit and struggled to slump into my seat.
“Rough night?” Abdul asked
“Uh, yeah.” I quietly responded looking to the floor.
He frowned, looking at me with concern.
“You can talk about it if you're comfortable,” he assured me. I contemplated giving him a thinly veiled metaphor or vague explanation so he'd comfort me but stopped myself before my mouth could run a muck. He wouldn't be able to do much of anything and I don’t like opening up.
“Uhm, thanks but it's something I have to deal with alone.”
He nodded, respecting my boundaries.
“You know, I understand if you can’t hang out today it seems like you have a lot going on.”
I avoided eye contact with him as he spoke. For once I was feeling hints of guilt toward a person. I wanted to spend time with him, but I knew that I wasn't in the state to do that.
“Yeah, I think it’ll have to wait, I’m-” I cut myself off before apologizing. A fact about me that should surprise no one is that I hate apologizing. Even when I do feel kinda bad the act fills me with embarrassment.
“You what?” he asked, his eyes telling me that he knew what I was going to say.
“I’m emotionally not great.” I spat out in an admittedly poor attempt to get out of saying sorry. As always he remained calm but I could tell he saw through me.
“Okay, like I said I understand, whatever it is I hope you feel better.”
I told him thank you and we didn't speak for the rest of the day. At home I changed into more comfortable clothes and brushed my teeth. Unfortunately, I wasn't bouncing back from killing nearly as much as I expected.
“It wasn't even that bad! That thing was on its last legs anyway.” I grumbled to myself, smacking my forehead. I was feeling worse than when I did it which is weird. I ended up spontaneously decorating a ratty tie from the bottom of an accessory drawer to distract myself. It helped me get my mind off things, for a little. I had zero plan, just wanting to make something needlessly complex. Hours that felt like minutes passed and soon it was covered in patches, frills, and beads. I just tried it on when I heard the front door open.
“Man, that shit was wild!” I heard Brick laugh groggily. I didn't have to see or smell him to know he’d gotten lit. I rolled my eyes, closing my bedroom door.
“Hey, who’s there?” his friend asked, seemingly referring to me.
“Oh, that’s my little sis, don’t mind her she’s just on her emo shit!” he joked, which pissed me off for the petty reason that I didn't even listen or dress emo.
“Hey, that’s alright with me, I went through one of those phases,” they responded, their words less slurred than my cousin’s.
I fucked up and forgot to lock it when I closed it so they were able to swing it open, almost smacking my desk.
“Hey emo girl!” they waved as Brick haphazardly pulled them back.
“Okay, man, seriously I think she wants to be left alone.”
The way his friend looked at me made me uncomfortable. Like they’d snap my neck if I pissed them off. They clicked their tongue while stepping through the door frame.
“Alright, but I gotta say calling her an emo is inaccurate, they look like they watch gore and most emos just say they do.” they flashed a sharp toothy grin. At that moment I began to connect the dots.
“Easy, she’ll get pissy with you dude, now come on.” Brick warned tugging their opened button pushed him away. They looked me dead in the eyes.
“I don’t think she minds, in truth, I feel like we’ll have a lot to discuss later.” they smiled again, finally walking back into the living room. A chill ran up my spine when I saw them. The sharp teeth, New York accent, unsettling gaze, that motherfucker was the person who recruited me! They were able to get into my place so easily cause my dumbass cousin probably gave them a spare key or the opportunity to make one, and now they were a room away from me!
I dug my hands into my pillow as I contemplated what to do, no matter what happened next, I knew it was gonna be a rough visit.

Obviously paragraphs and paragraphs of explaining the lore of your world is considered infodumping, but where would you draw the line?
I don't know if what I try to do is considered infodumping. Basically, I insert one paragraph of a character using their knowledge of the world to explain something in the middle of your usual descriptory prose.
For example (an excerpt of chapter 4 from my first attempt at writing a full length novel. I'm about 11k words in):
Despite the boy standing at least two dozen paces away from her, Emily felt like he had drilled stakes into her eyes with his gaze. They were green-within-green without any trace of human white in them. They weren’t natural. They weren’t human. Her heart raced. Foreboding trepidation rushed through her veins. She became aware of her panting and her sweat inching down her forehead. She trembled, all of a sudden warming up despite the stale, cold air in the great hall.
She lowered her head, realising that she had torn holes into her gloves from balling her fists.
Before her stood a Roamer. Samira had taught her about them in her lessons. She was told the last of them died a century ago. A race of mutants created to serve as the personal bodyguards of lords and kings centuries ago, one of them served the Embelwoods of the past. Along with her great-grandfathers, they built the great duchy of New Calinthia on the backs of honour and virtue.
Her right palm throbbed. Pulling off her glove, Emily looked at the angular birthmark on her right palm again, and she noticed that it glowed gently with the same shade of green from the boy-Roamer’s eyes.
From under the boy’s coat, the characteristic Roamer’s dark-veins crept up his pale-skinned neck, stopping short of his jaw like serpents slithering through snow. He took off his hat, revealing a head of black hair. As he made his way through the great hall, nobody spoke a word. She saw tense looks on many soldiers’ faces, the look of shock given by bystanders witnessing a murder.
I've italicised the paragraph in question. It's not really describing action and feelings like the other paragraphs around it, but it also isn't a large wall of text describing the lore and such–that would be an obvious infodump. How large of a break from the flow of action to describe something about the world would you consider an infodump?
Edit: The paragraph also doesn't fully explain what they are fyi. I'm planning to explore the Roamers' abilities later in the story and sprinkle in more tidbits of lore throughout. I can add the premise of the story here for context if someone requests it.

Rating criterias are placements, faculty, industry reputation, brand perception, selection criteria ,fees and future potential.

1. IIM Ahmedabad- Best b-school in India. Epitome of Indian academic excellency. It thrives in all the domains whether its marketing, consulting , finance and genman.
   
2. IIM Bengaluru - On par with IIM Ahmedabad. But skewed placements towards consulting.
   
3. IIM Calcutta- On par with IIM A and B. But skewed towards finance. No one will be able to shake the brand image of ABC, no matter how hard they work. Their position is cemented for next 25 years.
   
4. ISB hyderabad- It is also on par with IIM ABC, in some criterias it is even better than ABC. But I downrated it because of fees. It only selects students with 2 years of workex who are already successful. Bad at creating new successful students, that's why I deducted the marks. Fees is on upper side, higher fees delays many plans whether it is having kids, settling abroad and starting some new venture.
   
5. IIM Lucknow- Placements are great. The school rules the ganges plains. It has a huge upward potential because UP is growing at a unprecedented rate. If UP achieves the target of 1 tn dollar gdp in next 10 years, IIM Lucknow will provide the talent to fuel the growth further.
   
6. FMS Delhi- Right now, it is better than IIM lucknow. But I have few reservations towards it because of bad infrastructure and low funding from University of Delhi. Years of disinvestment have taken a toll on it. People are willing to pay 25 lakhs for IIM Lucknow rather than living in a bad campus. It got more marks due to best ROI. You can easily start a new venture after passing out as you don't have to pay the emi's.
   
7. XLRI Jamshedpur - Best school for HRM. All big brands are visiting the campus. Fees is on higher side and location disadvantage is there. It will lose few more spots in 10-15 years down the line, as new colleges will emerge in metro locations.
   
8. SP Jain, Mumbai- It is a great school at the center of financial capital of India. Great location , great leadership and one of the smartest cohort because of great shortlisting process. They know what kind of students will thrive in their environment.
   
9. JBIMS, Mumbai- Ceo factory of India. All big brands are visiting the campus. Fees is dope, you don't have to worry about loan. Only concern is poor infrastructure and low investment. They can't get a new campus as it is under University of Mumbai. It is plagued by same concers as FMS.
   
10. SJMSOM IIT Bombay - They are doing everything right a B-School can do. Strong placements, strong brand value and IIT backing will give it a huge push in future. They are expanding the batch strength every year and giving tough fight to each B-School of country. Only downside is its incompetency in consulting and finance domain.
    

11, 12. IIM Kozhikode, IIM Indore(you can interchange the ranks)- They have slipped from the ranking in a course of 10 years. I can say they have huge downrisks due to high admit of lower percentile students. I don't know why they are compromising quality for the quality of the batch.

1. IIM Mumbai- People kept on asking that when would delhi, mumbai get its own IIM. Now, Mumbai has got one. It will keep attracting on best of best students because IIM tag coupled with Mumbai suffix is giving it a huge potential. In operations, it is already among best B-schools( Some people say it is best right after Sjmsom, some are saying that it is better than Sjmsom. But i am giving sjmsom an edge due to lower fees).
   
2. IIM Shillong- They have done a great deal in the last few years. People have even started to drop I in favour of S. Blacks is better than Blacki😁
   

15, 16. Mdi gurgaon, IIFT Delhi(You can interchange the ranks)- They used to be among top 10. Years of mismanagement have taken a toll on their ranking. Who is going to trust a management school whose own management is compromised.

1. Dms, Iit D- I will not be amazed if they jump 7-10 rankings in the coming years. They got the strongest backing in the country ie. Government of india and IIT delhi(check their annual reports and budget allocation). Heavy focus on technology and AI. Only downside is non-technical people are hesitant to join the school because they think that they will not be able to thrive in the techno-managerial roles( a very wrong prejudice).
   
2. TISS mumbai- Highly specialised. It is a strength and also a weakness. They should diversify to stay in the rankings. I am highly skeptical for their infrastructure and spending. Fees is a plus point here.
   

19,20. NMIMS, SIBM(you can interchange the rankings)- They are great bschools. But their image is compromised due to negative marketing of coaching institutes, inflated reports, higher batch size and higher fees. If you don't have better calls, go for them. They are surely worth it.
Note- I haven't included the sister campus like XLRI D and IIFT K. People would argue that they have coupled placements with the main campus. But i am not buying the argument, companies have biased towards sister campus even at the time of placements as well as post mba. Corporate HRs will keep on giving a inferior rating to the sister campuses.

Now that I discovered this community I am pretty confident what is happening to me is all tied back to this lovely little jaw muscle. I see my GP Monday 8am . Hoping for any advice - better details - corrections on my wrong assumptions or statements and ultimately a little reassurance and validation from yall , That what is happening to me right now is all connected and I am not crazy.
10 months ago I had my last 2 upper molars pulled the "ol fashioned" way with the wiggling and the tugging and the ripping and the "Okay now you're going to feel a bit of pressure" followed by the feeling that your jaw is in fact being ripped out of your mouth.
Things started mild 6 months ago intensified around the 3 month mark and now these last 3 weeks I can barely function. I feel the definition of "Malaise" hits perfect. I'm afraid to leave my house the head pain / brain fog has me feeling like I could blackout any second, And the whoosh / vertigo / world spins has me terrified of driving.
So here is what I'm feeling in order of how they hit , everything is on the left side if that matters
Shoulder Blade - Everything is felt along the bottom of the blade.
Jolt of fire and burning on the skin -- A tearing and ripping under the skin on the muscle - Starts to vibrate a tingling fire sensation outward in a semi circle
When I put my tens unit on there the flexing caused pain on the top of shoulder and collarbone.
Always strongest when I lift or carry, random bursts when I'm sitting doing nothing and now even the weight of my phone sends it to 11
Muscles Weakness and Tremors
When the blade pain is bad, I can barely grip anything with my hand, Hands tremble and different arm muscles randomly will twitch and flex.
My jaw is now (2 weeks) shivering / chittering (IDK wtf it is) as if im cold. Digging my fingers into the facial knots will stop it. Always hits when I first get out of bed, then a few times during the day no pattern in the trigger
Eyes/Ears
Couldn't keep my contacts in more than half day , left only felt cloudy hazy blurry - They are brand new lenses and Ive been use the good "eye juice" with no changes. Tried yesterday had to take em out within an hour.
Sharp twinge zap inside the ear - cold trickling sensation down the canal - ends with a punch of pain behind ear on the thick neck tendon
The Whoosh (Is this brain fog? Something else?) Zap / Jolt of electricity on top of my brain but under my skull - The whoosh when i see everything spin a 360 for a second - And ends with me "off kilter' for minutes to hours, As if there is a delay between what my eye sees to when my brain processes. During the spell ill feel "wonky" "Out of body" "tunnelly vision"
The Exploding Head
Its a constant feeling / sensation that my head is filling with sludge.
Forehead & eye have waves of intense dull aches, This part is killing so bad right now, even with NSAIDS it never stops having pressure just relieves it slightly. When it kicks hard and throbs my eyes go really fuzzy and that im going to blackout feeling hits. I have not actually passed or blacked out thank god - my cats would eat me alive in a day -
Jaw/ cheek & gums are twitchy with tightness/fullness and pointy pain shockwaves. The M in the TMJ is a ball of rubberbands and it is so very tender. My face does not appear to have anything swelling outwards from here but poking around in there i find tons of lumps I can break up.. Opening and closing i have full range I think and right now no popping or pains when i do. The area by my ear where the bones connect is so tender, but I dont feel lumps much here. I feel such relief when I hit here with my point tool.
Side of my Neck has small mushy lumps just under the skin and some big daddies deeper in and these ones get stabbyy pains that pulse with my heart.
Back of my neck the bottom half is gravel I can break up pretty easy but I think 3 more come back in their place.
Base of skull I have golf balls burried deep,. They dont throb but when I rub them it is painful but in the best way because I feel such release everywhere else but then they hurt for days. When I rub them to hard and deep oh man sore for days.
All this ends at my upper back and this area is awful. It burns on the surface level 24/7. Icy hot tricks my brain for about and hour. I did some scraping massage here and it sounded like rice krispies and I think hese are adhesions vs knots. .Deeper is full of thick knots, I have the trigger point hook to dig in there and sometimes magic happens and the ache everywhere else gets better for a bit.
The floating bone
It was mild discomfort, odd feelings of tightness inside my actual throat, tingles and a dry feel. It started wiggling around on its own pretty often and when I felt that first water balloon pop inside yikes I was scared AF. Now it just moves whenever it wants. I barely touch it and it "shoots" to the other side. Massaging in here hurts so GOOD! Looking all the way up and feeling from chin towards throat I have many bumps all different sizes. And lastly when I move my head certain ways it feels as if there is a leak happening and almost mucus-y like I could cough but usually dont need to
If you are still with me many apologies this got longer than I thought it would. Today has been my worst day so far, all the pains I mentioned are now hitting at once. Today I was sitting here sobbing in pain it because I was at 13 / 10 and wouldn't ease no matter what I pressed on . 3 Naproxen with 3 ibuprofen gives me about 3 hours of refief right now. I know posture is a part of my pain levels and ive aready ordered some tools so I can correct.

*CONTAINS SWEARING*
This is gonna be a hefty and most likely triggering post for specific groups of people out there (meaning people who struggle with anger, people who don't want poltical content/opinions etc), so please stop reading and leave if you figure this is gonna be rough for you. This will (mainly) be about the conflict between Palestine and Israel. (and apparently a long one) No hate towards any specific groups of people, but I do have a lot of *frustration regarding behaviours*.
Before I start, I want you to remember some facts about me as you read;
I am autistic
I am heavily influenced by world peace, hate, racism and other unfair situations
I have incredibly high standards for myself that I strive to not break, including, but not limited to, being kind and respectful *always*, despite being in a bad mood, not liking someone, or disagreeing, especially political disagreements
I have always, and will always, stand against widespread hate, racism and other discrimination towards any specific religions, ethnicities, nationalities, cultures, etc.
I also want you to know that I named this throwaway accordingly.
So let's get this shitshow started then, shall we.
As the details of the conflict stands, it is beyond obvious to me that this is racism and, literally, a Holocaust. Not *the* Holocaust, but *a* Holocaust. Oxford Languages has the term defined as a destruction or slaughter on a mass scale, especially caused by fire or nuclear war . I'd say that's very much accurate. Proof to come.
Regardless, this situation has had me very pressed the last almost 8 months, as I know most other people have been too. Without getting too much into the conflict itself, I want to talk a little about what I've seen from the Jewish community.
This is where I advise anyone who struggles with anger especially to leave and try to keep your day positive. If you have a magical potion to stay stable after this, who am I to stop you...
Alright, onto the dreaded part. And yes, I am stalling.
I have never, and I truly mean *never* had any hateful thoughts or opinions about religions (other than Christianity but that's one for another time), and as we are all aware of, The Holocaust had massive effect on the world some 80 years ago. I have always seen Jews as victims due to this, but in recent times I've realised that a lot of them, too, see themselves as victims. The issue is that they aren't the victims right now. They (Israel) aren't defending themselves, they have nothing to defend themselves against. Israel is currently doing the exact same thing as Germany did to them, to Palestine. Sure, maybe at some point who knows when, Palestine *was* the land of Jews, but since then, multiple religions have been thriving together on that land, including Jews. They were never excluded. From what I've understood, there weren't any wars or conflicts going on within the country that didn't happen elsewhere. The issue began when in the late 1940's zionists brutally murdered families to steal their homes. I'm sure the situation was so much more complex than that, but in a nutshell that is basically it. The fact that everyone today have been so desensitized from the travesties happening around the world is depressing and hope-killing. I truly am well on the way to giving up, and at this point in time I'm so angry all the time due to the Middle East's situation.
So a few weeks ago, probably closing in on months at this point, I randomly got a notification from reddit about someone posting on /Jewish. They didn't say anything explicit, so I pressed the notification and I was met with the worst victimization and ignorance I've ever seen. I truly believed most jews would see this for what it is, and not let some racist maniac spoon-feed them propaganda and hate, but I was brutally and humbly proven wrong. They were mocking proPAL parades, hating on news anchors and civilians alike calling this a genocide, insisting that Israel has no other choice, saying "casualties happens in war", convincing each other that zionism is a good thing, and feeling sorry for themselves when friends and families cut contact because they said they supported Israel and saw this as the only solution. Some might have been genuine problems, idk, but for the most part, that subreddit seems to only be about hating the rest of the world because their great grandparents were killed. I know I sound like a complete asshole, but the world isn't antisemetic anymore - they are actively looking for it and then using that one person telling them to stop feeling so sorry for themselves as proof that everybody in the world wants to throw them back in gas chambers.
I commented on my personal once where I mentioned that judaism and zionism are two separate things and got downvoted to oblivion. Someone replied saying that my comment was very much exactly what they too feel, but I got downvoted *simply because* I referred to them as separate entities. That is another criticism they've recieved lately; the pure idea of zionism is on the complete opposite side from what Judaism stands for. I've seen so many of the members there calling Jews protesting against Israel "self-hating" and traitors.
I've also made so many replies that I never sent because I know for a fact they would do anything in their power to ban me from ever using reddit again, and I wouldn't be surprised if I got doxxed and harrassed IRL from it. I saved them all, though. I found that it was kind of therapeutic to get it out, but it still bugs me that I never found a way to say it to them. I once also made a post about my rage for their behaviour connected to this genocide, but I thankfully stopped myself before I posted it. I'm so enraged by their sheer ignorance and hypocritical behaviour, all the while Gaza is still being eradicated and slaughtered, war crimes happening day in-day out, inhumane atrocities by the IOF being posted and hailed, and they have the audacity to say that they are the victims? That Israel has no other choice but martyring tens of thousands of CHILDREN? Starving the entire Gaza Strip, segregating West Bank, literally teaching their young in school to hate and attack arabs? That last one might not be true as I don't speak Hebrew or Arabic, so anyone could've just made up the translation, but I still feel it's worth mentioning in case it actually *is* real.
My point is that the guts they have to claim to be so moral, yet still be so unfaced from what's happening in Gaza is beside me. Sure, for those living near the Gaza wall, I'm positive that hearing bombs and screams were traumatizing as fuck, but to then leave for work the next day and claim that "shit happens"? It's insane! It's inhumane. They can leave whenever they like, children can play football (soccer) in the streets and not having to worry about shit, hotels and restaurants with 5-star ratings thriving, plants and flowers still blooming, absolutely no threats on a daily basis. The fact that people are still calling this a war, something necessary, is beyond devastating to me. There are millions still siding with zionism, claiming there's nothing wrong with the belief that you have an innate right to some dirt simply because your holy book says that thousands of years ago, your religion lived there, and simply because of that religious fact you are rightfully owed thousands of young lives, the death of an entire country with its own culture, just to feed the irrational religious political system? How in God's name has that ever, *IS* that still okay? If Muslims were the ones saying that shit, they would've been completely destroyed by now, today's generation wouldn't know what the fuck Islam was. They are still being slaughtered though, because they're saying it's *not* okay. How is that not racist again?
My brother and I got into a heated argument a few days ago about this. I am very much *for* Palestine to have human rights and to own their own land - he is very much *against* "ugly blackies" having any rights because they're *not* human. Boi when I tell you I got so angry I started crying. And the worst part about that fight? He claims that Jews aren't any better, however they still deserve to defend themselves against children running on the beach. "But Hamas-" is so over-used and outdated by now, it just proves that he doesn't follow up on statistics and evidence. Even if there only were one-sided news (from Gaza), the fact that the ICJ ruled Israel's actions a genocide and war crimes still proves everything he claims to be "n*****'s propaganda". And the fact that he so underminds my autism and *need* for factual evidence before discussing it also goes to show that he genuinely does not care about anything other than the black "terrorists" being eradicated. I said "So you're not just a racist, you're just plain racist?" he just scoffed and looked at me as if I just said the most nonsensical bullshit gibberish ever, practically saying "I'm not gonna say anything, but it really took you that long to realise?" Either that, or he actually didn't comprehend the words coming out of my mouth, like it was a foreign language or something. Because he genuinely does not have a single reason to be racist.
He can't even blame suicide attacks because 1) not all are carried by muslims, and 2) between 1981-2015 around 45,000 were killed by suicide attacks worldwide, where in 2019 the total death toll was only 1,699 more than amount of attacks; whereas in Gaza, between Oct 7 to present there are about 34,000 confirmed palestinian deaths, and assumed around 42,000 with unconfirmed deaths. If, in 36 years, "muslim terrorism" killed about the same amount as Israel has in almost 8 months, how on earth are Arabs the terrorists?
And I've also seen the argument that 30,000 is nothing compared to the total population in Gaza, as if that makes it okay. I will, again, make example of The Holocaust. When 30,000 Jews were martyred, people were already catching on, and this was without the technology we have today.
How have we been allowing this to happen to Palestinians *with* our technology today? Why haven't people been doing more; striking our jobs, cummute chauffeurs striking, proper permanent boycotts, more coverage from news anchors and private people alike? Even if it is to officially reclaim your love for white supremacy, you're still talking about it. Why are people still not reading up on this? Why does millions still not know that this *didn't* begin on October 7th? And why are there still those who claim that the past doesn't matter today? I have so many questions, and if I do get an answer I will only end up with more questions. How hasn't the world stopped over this? Why are people so okay knowing that there are children being intentionally murdered every single day? How can you go to work and talk about Dave's new tie? Or your 6 year old's birthday party with 15 other 6 year olds? Hasn't it crossed your mind that if the roles were reversed, your precious princess would be the one burried under tons of rubble, dying slowly while simontaniously starving, dehydrating, suffocating and crushing, and *knowing* that absolutely no one cares because you're [skin color] and it's normal for your kids to be horrendously massacred? "Oh but the Taliban-ISIS-Al Qaeda" OKAY so what are you gonna do to help save innocent lives and suffering??? How are you gonna contribute to STOP these organizations that have manipulated and murdered to rule their country and are intentionally making the citicens miserable? Are you even aware that your own govurnment is essentially the same fucking thing, just disguised as a well dressed, polite gentleman? Aren't you sick of all those ads on TV showing brown children with flies in their eyes? Or your mama telling you to think about the starving children in Africa? Because I am.
I am so sick and tired of how inhumane humans have come to be. You don't see animals (and I'm trying my best to not mention how humans *are* animals, guess I failed) intentionally kill another animal simply because they're that animal. They kill prey; polar bears kill seals, seals kill penguins, penguins kill fish, fish kill amoebas, and you can get to that result from absolutely everything. What you don't find as a natural event is a golden, brown mane lion attack and kill an albino lion simply because it's albino. You don't see a school of fish swim away from one with two heads, because "*omg Jared is such a freak with his two heads*." So why the FUCK DID WE START DOING THAT? Where did this hunger for power come from? You *will* see a female lion tell the king that enough is enough, and he *will* accept that. I could go on and on for DAYS if I got the chance, but I don't wanna get too off topic here.
I've started a list of all the universally illegal shit Israel has done, and once I'm satisfied with it, I'll make one comparing Israel to Palestine, and then Arabs/Muslims as a whole. I can guarantee that I will still hear "on-sided sources" still, or "You can't trust Wikipedia!" Have you ever tried to edit or create an article on Wikipedia? I have, and I had to confirm that I had a degree or a current valid work ID to prove that I was elgible to speak on the topic. I tried to make a site for myself... Sure, there are more trustworthy sites, but even in a discussion about wether or not being trans is a mental illness, where I quoted and linked all of the most well known official sources like WHO, I was still slapped with "but this shady ass article from a random Deutch website that explicitly says everything I've said, yet still isn't actually saying the same thing because I misquoted and mixed the words to form my own sentence says that it is" when they literally linked a website called "disabled world". I will say though, I agree with that name. Today's world is so non-funtional for neurotypical, hetero, white MEN, it's no fucking wonder everyone else are classified as disabled or whatever. Also, on that disabled topic, if you've made it this far, please don't say "differently abled". A quote unquote quote (heh geddit? cuz it's rephrased and I don't have the book near me rn to directly quote) from Devon Price's "Unmasking Autism" that I really like: "You wouldn't say "a person with Asianness", you'd say "an Asian person"." We are disabled because today's world isn't made for us, and for the most part isn't even accomodated or accessible to us. We are different, yeah, but literally everyone is. We just got that term because we can't do the same things as you (assuming you're neurotypical) without aid. We are able, just not like you. Of course, if an autistic person tells you they prefer "person with autism", listen to them! But most of us embrace it as a part of us because we can't just get rid of it. Autism is what make me me, I wouldn't be me without my autism, so I *am* autistic, for better or for worse. :)
I find it kinda ironic that I started this as a venting about a lot of Jews' hypocritical behaviour, and now ending up on autism. Yaknow, cuz Dr. Asperger during WW2 experimented and tortured autistic people, and found out that some where more alike him than others, which then coined the term Aspergers for the Autistic Community.
Anywho, I feel better now, so thanks for letting me vent a little (a lot). I want to finish off by restating my intro; I have not, and will not tolerate any hate, racism or discrimination towards any religion, ethnicity, nationality, culture etc. This post is not intended as a rant about how aweful jews are, because they're not. I just wanted to air some frustration over their behaviour regarding I/P genocide. This is also not about *all* Jews, but that's the same discussion as "not all men" so I'll leave it at that.
I will delete this account in a week, so if you have any questions, be fast ig. If you find I've mis-phrased, used irrationally insensitive wording or any other complaints that calls for a repost, I will fix it and post an updated version. My DMs will also be available if that should be of interest, but I will not be responding to hate or personal attacks for my opinions. If the issue is my wording, again, tell me and I'll fix it.
At this point I've written so much that I don't remember if I found anything myself that I figured was worth fixing, and I've proof read it so many times that my eyes are crossing and giving me a headache lol
Gosh I'm scared of posting this. I don't want anyone to read this and think I support what A. H. did in 1940 cuz I cannot begin to describe my hatred for that man

"You gotta know that there's an art to it, Ezra," Hitch said, cutting another piece of duct tape.
The sleeves of his weather-beaten coat were shoved all the way up his arms, to stop the fabric from falling over his knuckles while he was working, and goosebumps lined his skin. He was strapping a rubber chicken to the back of his truck, over the lens of the shattered backup camera, with the legs pointing down so that they hung a couple inches above the ground. There were dents in the hood from the crash last week, and scratches along the door from scraping into a curb. The chicken, hopefully, would keep him from breaking anything else.
"You can't go cheap," Hitch said. "The cheap rubber chickens only make noise when pressure lets go. That's no good. As soon as I back up into something, I want this chicken to be screaming like it’s in the depths of hell."
“Sure thing,” I said in a monotone, leaning against the side of the truck.
There were scrambled electronic parts piled in the back of the truck, the innards of a radio, a broken computer, tangled wires, a couple loose pairs of earbuds. He found the parts in alleyways or bummed them off his friends for a couple bucks or stole them from the vacation homes that were left empty for most of the year. Then he sold them for a profit at the scrapyard. Hitch had bounced between minimum-wage jobs for a while after high school, spending a couple months as a bagger at the grocery store or as a seasonal worker at the farm two hours down the highway. He'd never stuck with it. At the very least, the scrapyard got him enough money to eat and occasionally spend a night in a motel when he got tired of sleeping in his car.
Hitch pressed the last piece of tape in place and grinned up at me. "I've got something for you, duck."
The nickname came from when I’d broken my leg as a child and waddled around in a cast until it was healed. I hated it with a burning passion, and I glared at Hitch with the ease of twenty-one years of practice. He had a duck tattoo at the base of his thumb that he’d gotten in a back-alley shop as a teenager. He said that he’d gotten it to remind him of me, and the fact that I hated the nickname was just a bonus. It was shaky-lined, with an uneven face, but he loved it anyway.
The handle stuck when Hitch tried to open the door, a consequence of the rust collecting in the crevices of the car and running down the sides like blood from a cut. The car groaned when the door finally popped open, a metal against metal screech that had me flinching away. Hitch dug through the cluttered fast food containers in the passenger-side footwell, eventually coming up with a crinkly paper bag. He waved away the flies buzzing around the opening of the bag and held it out to me.
The last time Hitch had brought me food, I’d gotten food poisoning because he’d left it out in the midday sun for two days. The donut was squished slightly, and the icing was stuck to the bag. I still ate it, grimacing at the harsh citrus flavor. Taking Hitch’s food was an instinct engraved from the days when Dad had given us a can of kidney beans for dinner and Hitch had drank the juice, leaving the beans for me.
I rarely went hungry anymore, three mostly square meals a day and granola in my pockets just in case, but habits didn’t die easy.
These days, Hitch only brought me food when he wanted my help, like when he saw a place he wanted to hit but was worried about doing it alone.
I got in the car, like I always did.
We drove past the cluster of seafood-themed restaurants with chipped paint decks, the beachfront park where there were always shifty-eyed men sitting under the slide, the single room library where all the books had been water damaged in the flood last year. The change was quick as we drove across Main Street, heading closer to the beach. The roads were freshly paved, the concrete a smooth black except where the sun had already started to pick away at it. The three-story homes lining the sides of the street were crouched on elegant stilts, with space underneath for a car or three. Most of the garages were empty, with the lights off and curtains drawn in the house. Come summer, the streets would be swarming with tourists and vacationers, but until then, most of the buildings nearest to the beach were unoccupied.
Hitch stopped as the sun started to go down at a house that was leaning precariously out towards the beach, tilted ever so slightly, the edge of its foundation buried in the shifting sand of the beach. It certainly looked deserted, with an overgrown yard and blue paint peeling off the door in sheets.
Hitch took his hammer out of the backseat, hoisting it over his shoulder. It was two feet of solid metal with rags wrapped around the head to muffle the sound of the hits. Hitch squared up, bending his knees and holding the hammer like a baseball bat. Before he could swing, though, the door creaked open on its own, the hinges squeaking. The house beyond was dark enough that I could only make out general shapes, glimpsing the curve of a sofa to the left, what was maybe the shimmer of a chandelier on the other side.
Hitch lowered his hammer, looking vaguely disappointed that he didn’t get to use it. “That’s…weird as hell.”
“Maybe the deadbolt broke, maybe they forgot to lock it, it doesn’t matter,” I hissed, checking our surroundings for other people again. “Just hurry up and get inside before someone calls the cops.”
Hitch flicked the lightswitch on the wall, and the lights flickered on. They were dim, buzzing audibly and blinking off occasionally. The walls were plastered with contrasting swatches of wallpaper and splattered with random colors. There was neon orange behind the dining table, a galaxy swirl in the kitchen, and on the ceiling there was a repeating floral pattern covered in nametag stickers. Each of the stickers was filled out with The Erlking. Chandeliers hung in every room, three or four for each, and rubber ducks sat on every table. A miniature carousel sat in the corner along with a towering model rocket.
Sand was heaped on every surface, at least a couple inches everywhere. It was piled in the corners and stuck to the walls, and it covered the floor in a thick blanket. Our hesitant steps into the house left footprints clearly outlined in the sand.
Hitch took a cursory look around and headed immediately for the TV mounted on the wall. “Look out the windows and tell me if anyone is coming.”
I shook the sand out of the blinds and pulled them open, then had to brush sand off of the window before I could see anything.
Hitch was quick, practiced at finding and appropriating the things that were worth taking. He came back to me with an armful of electronics and chandeliers, dumping it at my feet before turning to head deeper into the house again.
There was a thump, somewhere upstairs, and then footsteps, slow and deliberate. Hitch froze at the threshold of the room, then ran for the door with me just ahead of him, sand flying out from under our feet.
My hand was almost brushing the doorknob, close enough that I could see the light from the streetlamp outside streaming in through the cracks in the door. My fingers touched the wood and it gave under my touch, becoming malleable and warm. I yelped, stumbling backwards, and the door started to melt. The paint ran down in thick drops, pooling at the bottom of the door, and the wood warped like metal being welded. The soft edges of the door ran into the walls until there was no sign of an exit ever being there.
“Well, well, well,” said a cultured voice with just an edge of snooty elitism. “What do we have here?”
The man was well over eight feet tall, with long black hair covering his eyes. He was wearing a yellow raincoat with holes cut out of the hood to accommodate the deer antlers jutting upwards from his head. There was sand settled on his shoulders and hovering around his head like a halo.
“Who the fuck are you?” Hitch said, inching towards a window.
He smiled, just a little bit, and his teeth shone in the dim light. “I am the Erlking.”
Hitch nodded, and seemed about to respond. I grabbed him by the hand and pulled him towards the window. I could feel sand in the wind roaring against my back as the Erlking growled in anger, the grains scraping harshly against my cheeks.
We were almost to the window when Hitch was ripped away from me, and I came to a startled halt. The sand had formed long grasping arms that pressed Hitch against the floral wallpaper. His wrists were held tight, and as I watched, a sandy hand wrapped around his mouth and forced its way between his teeth. He gagged, and sand trickled out of the corners of his mouth.
The Erlking strolled towards him, not seeming to be in any sort of rush. “You know, I’m not very fond of your yapping.”
He made an idle gesture and the sand wrapped around my ankles, tethering me in place.
“I yap all the time,” Hitch said. “Three-time olympic yapper, that’s me. Best to just let me go now and save yourself some trouble.”
The Erlking tapped a manicured nail against Hitch’s mouth, hard enough to hurt, judging by the way he flinched away. “But why would I ever let you go when I’ve gone to this much trouble to catch you and your sister? It’s so hard, these days, to find people that no one will miss.”
Hitch struggled against the sand, trying to escape and failing. “What do you want with us, then? You just said it, we’re nobody.”
“I’m fae, dear one,” the Erlking said. “I get my power from my followers. And I think that you two will make lovely additions to my flock.”

He flicked Hitch's nose and Hitch gasped. Feathers started to form on his arms, popping out from under his skin in a spray of blood.
Hitch pushed off the wall, using his bound hands as a fulcrum, and his knees crashed into the Erlking’s stomach. The Erlking fell backwards, wheezing, and the sand around my ankles loosened.
Hitch made desperate eye contact with me as feathers shot up his neck and jerked his head towards the window. The message was obvious. Run.
The last thing I saw before crashing out the window and into freedom was Hitch’s body twisting, his arms wrenching into wings and feathers covering every inch of his skin. By the time I landed on the concrete outside, he was a small black bird, held tightly in the Erlking’s hands. The whole building was sinking into the ground, burnished-gold sand piling up over top and streaming from the windows.
Thirty years later, I saw Sam’s Supernatural Consultation and Neutralization written in neat, looping handwriting on a piece of paper taped to the door. The tape was peeling at the corners and the paper was yellowed with age, but there was obviously care put into the sign, in its perfectly centered text and looping floral designs drawn over the edges in gold marker.
I knocked, hesitantly, drawing my woolen coat closer around my shoulders. I’d bought it as a fiftieth birthday gift for myself, and I took comfort in the heavy weight of it over my shoulders.
“Coming!” someone called from within the depths of the office.
There were a couple crashes, and the sound of paper shuffling. Eventually, the door was opened by a young woman with ketchup stains on her shirt and pencils stuck through her hair.
“Hi, I’m Sam, I specialize in supernatural consultation and hunting, how may I help you today?” Sam said, customer-service pep in her voice. She stood in the doorway, solidly blocking entry into the office.
“My name is Ezra, I’m for a consultation. I emailed you but you didn’t respond?” I shifted in place, suddenly feeling awkward.
“Oh! Yeah, I lost the password for the email ages ago. Sorry for the bad welcome, I get lots of people thinking I’m crazy or pulling a prank and harassing me.”
She ushered me into the office, clearing papers off one of the chairs to make room for me to sit down. There was a collection of swords along one wall, all of them polished to perfection, several with deep knicks in the metal which indicated that they’d been used heavily.
“So what can I help you with?” Sam asked again, more sincere this time.
“Thirty years ago, my brother was turned into a bird,” I started. I’d told this story so many times that it barely felt ridiculous to say anymore. I was used to the disbelieving looks, the careful pity. But Sam just nodded along, face open and welcoming.
“I’ve almost given up on finding him, at this point,” I said. “But I saw your ad in the newspaper, and…here I am, I suppose.”
“Here you are,” Sam echoed, smiling. She pulled one of the pencils out of her hair and took a bit of paperwork off of one of her stacks, turning it over so that the blank side sat neatly in front of her. “Tell me everything.”
I told Sam everything, and she wrote it all down, pencil scratching along the paper.
The last part of the story was always the hardest to tell. “I left him there. I ran and I didn’t look back.”
I had been to dozens of detectives and investigators over the years, once the police had dropped Hitch’s case. I’d been to professional offices with smartly-dressed secretaries and met scraggly men in coffee shops. All of them had given me the same look, pity and annoyance all mixed up into a humor-the-crazy-lady soup. Sam, though, just seemed thoughtful.
Sam leaned forward and put a hand over mine, carefully, like she thought that I would pull away. “Sometimes you have to leave people behind.”
I tightened her hold on Sam’s hand and drew it towards me, like I could make Sam listen if only I squeezed tight enough. “But that’s why I’m here. I don’t want to leave him behind.”
“Okay then. I’ll do my best to help you.” Sam agreed, finally. Then she paused, and said softly, “You know…I think I met your brother once. He might have saved my life. He’s certainly why I started in this business.”
“Really? What happened?” I asked.
This is the story that Sam told me, related to the best of my abilities:
It was a new moon, so the only illumination came from the stars gazing idly down and distant porch lights shining across the scraggly brush of the dunes. Sam’s neighbors were decent people who cared about baby turtles, so the lights were a low, unobtrusive red, and the ocean sloshed like blood. Sam walked on the beach almost every night, drawing back the gauzy pink curtains and clambering out her bedroom window. She didn’t often bother to be quiet; her mama worked the late shift and came home exhausted. As long as Sam got home before the sun, her mama would never find out that she paced the shoreline and dreamed of inhaling sand until her lungs became their own beach.
The sky was lightening. The sun would come up soon, and that meant Sam’s time on the beach was over. She needed to get back to her real life, go to her fifth grade class and stop that nonsense, as her mother would say. Her mother loved to say things like that, pushing Sam into her proper place by implication alone.
“She’s a good kid, of course, but she’s a bit…” Her mother would trail off there, usually getting a commiserating expression from whoever she was talking to. Sam always wondered how that sentence would have finished. She’s a bit strange, maybe. She’s a bit intense. She’s a bit abrasive. She’s quiet enough but when Jason tried to steal her pencil in math class, she stabbed him in the hand so hard that the lead tattooed him.
Her mother was better, for the most part. The days of her stocking up the fridge, and leaving a post-it note on the counter, and leaving for days at a time were gone. But Sam still stepped around the place on the kitchen tile where her mother had collapsed and caved her head in, even though the bloodstains had been replaced with new tile.
“Your auntie got an abortion, you know,” her mother had said from her place on the couch, slurring her words. “Pill in the mail and then bam, no more baby.”
She had clapped her hands together to illustrate her point. Her mother jerked forward and grabbed Sam by the wrist, then, staring up at her until Sam met her eyes.
“I love you, you know? But sometimes I wonder…” She settled back onto the couch. “Yeah. I wonder.”
She’d gotten up, then, back to the kitchen. She’d been stumbling, a shambling zombie of a woman. The ground in the entryway of the kitchen was raised, ever so slightly, and her mother went down hard. Her head cracked against the tile, chin first, and she didn’t move.
Sam had been the one to call the ambulance. She had stared at the scattering of loose teeth on the ground while she waited, and considered what her life would be like with a dead mom. Not so bad, she thought, and immediately felt guilty for it.
Her mom was better, now, for the most part. But Sam still stepped around the place on the kitchen floor where she had collapsed. There was still a matchbox hidden under her bed with the gleaming shine of her mother’s lost teeth, two canines and a molar. It was nice, having a piece of her mom to keep. Even if she left again, Sam would still have part of her.
Sam sighed, and turned away from the ocean. As she faced towards the low dunes further up the beach, she saw a sandcastle sitting nestled among them. It was such a strange sight that her eyes skipped over it at first, almost automatically, disregarding it because it was so out of place.
Sam found sandcastles out on the beach sometimes, usually half-collapsed and on the verge of being washed away by the waves, but she had never seen anything like the sandcastle in front of her. It was life-sized, something that wouldn’t have looked out of place in the Scottish highlands, with spires shooting up above her head and carefully etched out bricks lining each side. The front wall was dominated by an arched set of double doors, twice her height, with a portcullis nestled at the top, ready to be dropped. All of it was lovingly detailed, down to the rust on the tips of the towers and the wood grain of the door. It was made out of wet, densely-packed sand, held together impossibly. It had not been there two hours ago, when she had come to the beach.
There was a bird sitting on the overhang of the door, small and black.
As soon as she took a step towards the sandcastle, the bird shook out its feathers and swooped down towards Sam, landing at her feet with a little stumble.
“Hey, kid, get out of here,” said the bird.
Sam closed her eyes, very deliberately. When she opened them, the bird was still there. Sam considered herself a very reasonable person, so she immediately drew the most logical conclusion. The bird was, she was almost certain, a demon.
“Trust me, you don’t want to run into Mr. Salty, the queen bitch himself,” the bird said.
“Mr. Salty?” Sam inquired, polite as she knew how to be. She edged to the side, trying to get a good angle to kick the bird like a soccer ball.
The bird did something similar to a wince, all its feathers fluffing up then settling back down. “Ah, don’t call him that. He’d turn you into a toad.”
The bird gestured with its head, towards the looming sand structure. “That’s his castle. He’s in there, probably scuttling along the ceiling or some shit because that’s the sort of weirdo he is.”
Sam nodded, encouraging. She pulled back her foot and lined up her shot, the way she’d seen athletes do on TV. She aimed right for its sharp beak and let loose. The bird saw it coming, its beady eyes widening, and it cawed in distress. It flapped away, avoiding her kick only to fall backward into the sand in a scramble of wings.
“What’s your fucking problem?” it squawked. “I was trying to help you!”
“I don’t need the help of a demon,” Sam yelled, trying to remember the exorcism that her mama had taught her once, because her mama believed in being prepared for anything.
“I’m not a demon,” the bird said indignantly.
It was at about that moment that Sam gave up and just decided to roll with it.
“What are you, then?” Sam asked.
The bird shuffled its clawed feet, looking about as awkward as it could, given that it didn’t really have recognizable facial expressions. “Technically I’m a familiar of the Erlking, prince of the fae, but I prefer to be called Hitch.”
“You can’t blame me for assuming, though,” Sam said. “Ravens do tend to be associated with murder.”
“Hey, excuse you,” Hitch said. “I’m a rook, not a raven. Ravens are way bigger.”
“Sure,” Sam said, not really paying attention. Her eyes had caught on the details of the sandcastle, and she was transfixed by the slow spirals of the sand, the strange beauty of it. She found herself stepping towards the great doors, lifting a hand to knock, and as she did, the sand warped in front of her eyes, heaving itself towards her with bulging slowness. The door creaked open before her, revealing a vast, empty room. Just before she stepped inside, she felt a piercing pain in her foot, and she yelped, leaping backwards.
Hitch pecked her again, really digging his beak in. “Don’t be an idiot.”
Sam glared at him, rubbing her foot. About to retort, she finally really took in the room inside the sandcastle, and her words died in her throat.
There was a body just past the threshold of the door, face down and limbs hanging limp at its sides. Long hair splayed out in a halo around its head.
“Don’t,” Hitch warned, suddenly serious. “Just leave, kid, I mean it. I’ve seen too many people go down this road and you don’t want to be one of them.”
Sam ignored him. She made her way across the beach, slipping with every step. The sand felt deeper, piling up around her feet in silent drifts. She picked up the nearest stick and poked the body with it through the door, ready to leap back if anything went wrong, staying firmly outside of the sandcastle.
This close, Sam could tell that it used to be a woman. Her head wasn’t attached to her body. It hadn’t been a clean amputation, either. Her upper body was bruised, with chunks taken out of it, and the bones in her neck hung mangled, not connected to anything.
“Well, I warned you,” Hitch said, defeated. “I did warn you.”
Sam nudged the head with the end of the stick, nudging it over so that she could see the face. Her mother stared back at her, torn to pieces, breath still wheezing from her lungs. She wasn’t blinking, just gazing forward with glazed eyes. Sweat dripped down from her hairline.
Sam screamed and dropped the stick, tripping over herself in her haste to get away.
Her mother’s eyes were wide and pleading, and she was mouthing desperate words at Sam. Her vocal cords were broken to bits, and the only sound that came out was a strained groan.
The head rolled, inching closer to Sam like a grotesque caterpillar.
Her mother gasped for air, torn lips fluttering. Finally, comprehensible words came out. “Help. Help me, daughter.”
“That’s not your mother,” Hitch said, quiet.
Sam knew that. Her mother was sleeping back at home, and anyways her mom had never asked for her help. She had an aversion to accepting charity, as she put it.
“Okay,” Sam said, shaking all over. “Okay.”
She backed away from the sandcastle, not looking away.
“Failure,” her mother hissed as she stepped away. “I never wanted a daughter like you.”
The sun came up over the horizon. The sandcastle, Hitch, and her mom all disintegrated into sand as the light hit them.
The beach, the next night, was almost exactly how I remembered it. The beams of our flashlights sent light bouncing across the dunes, illuminating the waves, and I imagined faces in the foam of the waves.
“I’ve been back here a hundred times. There’s nothing left,” I said.
Sam took the car key out of her purse and pointed it at the sand, adjusting the sword slung over her shoulder in order to do it. The key had belonged to Hitch; Sam had requested an item of his, and it was the only thing I had left. She rested the key on the sand and drew a circle around it, inscribing symbols around the borders.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
Sam shrugged. “Not much, really. I’m…I guess you could say that I’m knocking.”
The key laid inert on the sand for long enough that I was just about to give up and go home, admit to myself that Hitch was dead and that I was a fool to believe that Sam could actually help me. Then a building started to take shape, flickering in and out like it was struggling to get away. With a pop of displaced air, the sandcastle settled into existence.
Sam banged on the entryway. Nothing happened. She did it again, harder, and scowled when the door still didn’t open.
“We demand entrance, under your honor,” Sam yelled. There was a hard rush of wind, and I gripped Sam’s arm to keep my balance, but the doors cracked open reluctantly.
The inside of the sandcastle consisted of one enormous hall, the roof arching up out of sight. Rafters crisscrossed from wall to wall, and a cobbled path led further into the building, but other than that, it was completely empty, except for the birds. There were thousands of them, perched on the rafters or hopping along the ground. They parted in front of Sam and I, and reformed behind us, leaving us in a small pocket of open space. They were all black-feathered, with sharp beaks and beady eyes.
The Erlking sat on a throne at the end of the hall, lounging across it with his feet up on the armrest. He watched them as they came forward, the soft caw of the birds the only sound.
“I am here to bargain for the life of my brother,” I said, with as much dignity as I could muster, before the Erlking could say anything.
The Erlking ignored her, tilting his head to look at Sam. “I remember you. I almost got you, once.”

Sam glared at him but didn’t respond.
“You want your brother,” The Erlking said to me, and he almost sounded amused. “Then go get him.”
As if by some sort of silent signal, every bird in the room took flight at once, and their cawing made me think of screams. I covered my head against the flapping of their wings, and my vision was quickly obscured by the chaotic movement of them. I found myself on my knees, just trying to escape them.
A hand met my shoulder. Sam urged me to my feet, and together we ran for the edge of the room, where the swarm was the thinnest. We pressed ourselves into the corner and the swarm spiraled tighter and tighter at the center of the room. It went on until there seemed to be no differentiation between the birds, all of them fused together into one creature.
When the chaos died down, the birds had become one mass, with wings and eyes and talons sticking out of its flesh, thrashing and chirping. Human body parts stuck out of it, bulging out from the feathers. It was hands, mostly, with a couple knees or staring eyes. The bird amalgamation had no recognizable facial features, but there was one long beak extending from the front of its head. Most of the body parts were concentrated around the beak, and they peeked out from where the beak connected with muscle, or grew from the tongue, nestled between the two crushing halves of the beak.
It turned its beak down and crawled forward, using the hands to balance. The fingers scrambled over the ground. I was afraid of centipedes as a child, and I felt that same crawling dread when it started moving.
“Holy shit,” Sam whispered, which was rather disappointing, because I had been hoping that at least one of us knew what to do.
The creature turned, a lurching movement that crushed some of the hands underneath it, and started heaving itself slowly towards our corner.
“Better hurry up!” the Erlking called from his throne.
It was blocking the exit, by then. The shifting body of it had moved to block us off. It ambled towards us and I tried to sink further into the corner.
As it approached, getting close enough that I could smell the stink of it, I saw a flash of a tattoo on one of the hands. I leaned in, trying to find it again, like looking for dolphins surfacing in the ocean. And again, I caught a glimpse of a duck tattoo, the tattoo that Hitch had gotten on his hand as a teenager.
I ripped away from Sam’s death grip and ran for the monster.
I fell to my knees in front of it, wincing as I impacted the ground, and reached into the nest of hands. I could feel them tearing at my forearms and ripping into me with their sharp nails, but I kept going. I pressed further in, up to my shoulder in a writhing mass of limbs, aiming for the spot where I had last seen that tattoo.
The hands were tugging at me, wrapping around my back and hair. They were pulling together, trying to draw me completely into the mass of them. I was aware of Sam at my side, anchoring me in place and bashing any hand that got too close with her sword or the sparks that leapt from her hands with muttered words. But I didn’t think it would be enough. They were too strong, and there were too many of them.
I was up to my waist in the hands when something grabbed my palm. I felt the way it clung to me, and the calluses on its palm, and I knew that I had found my brother.
I flung herself back. The hands didn’t want to let me go, and they fought the whole way, but slowly, I made progress. I kept hold of Hitch’s hand in mine the whole time, gripping it as hard as I could. I finally broke free, Hitch with me, and Sam was immediately charging the creature, able to use her sword with much greater strength without being worried about injuring Hitch. She swung it forward, and it sliced through the wrist of one of the hands. It fell without a sound, red sand flowing out of it. It deflated until it looked like dirty laundry, just a piece of limp flesh. The creature shrieked, scuttling away enough that the door was finally accessible. The three of us ran for it, Sam and I supporting Hitch between us.
I looked back as I left and found the Erlking staring right at me.
“Interesting,” he murmured, his voice carrying impossibly across the vast space between us.
The sandcastle collapsed behind us, the great walls falling in on themselves. We were out in the morning sun, the sandcastle disappearing as we watched. Hitch was on the ground in front of me, as young as he’d been thirty years ago, when he was captured. He started laughing, feathers puffing out of his mouth. He laughed until he cried and I hugged him in the way that he’d held me when I was young, in the times when my life had been defined by hunger and fear.
Hitch left, afterwards. He scratched at the pinhole scars covering his body, where feathers burst through his skin, and pulled his long sleeves down around his wrists. He didn’t know where he was going but he told me that he needed time
I had spent thirty years worth of time without him. I wanted to grab my brother by the shoulders and beg him to stay. But he flinched when I hugged him goodbye and he refused to go near sand and he stared distrustfully at the birds chirping in the trees. Hitch needed to go away and I loved him too much to stop him.
I sat out on the beach every morning. I felt the sun on my face and I waited for Hitch to come home.

I am not the OOP. The OOP is u/Throwaway1209aloq posting in TrueOffMyChest
Concluded as per OOP
Content warning - implied stealthing
1 update - Medium
Original - 31st March 2024
Update - 17th May 2024
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Dumped my girlfriend over a joke and I can't tell anyone or I'll look like a psycho.
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My (23M) Ex (25F) and I were together for just under eight months, and like, we clicked. Got along like a house on fire from the moment we met. We had a lot in common from our morals, to our goals, to our taste in music. My family? Loves her. probably more than they do me. (Mom wanted a daughter so bad she couldn't stand it growing up- 4 sons before she gave up.)
It was probably three months ago now that we had been on the couch while I watched a movie and she scrolled TikTok, (Not a TikTok hate post, scrolling can be fun, I'm just more of a Youtube guy.)
Speaking of showing me videos, she showed me one of a man holding his son, and dancing to a song. She laughed and said something about how good I would look as a dad, which was pretty weird considering as far as I knew, both of us were child-free by choice. (God knows I am.) I tried to take it as a joke, and mentioned that it was "too bad, so sad," she would never know. (I thought she would respond something about how there's nothing sad about avoiding it or something. She has never given me indication before this that she wanted children.)
And she started giggling this like, evil giggle, and said something like "I don't know, it only take's one broken condom." In this like sing-song voice that I'm not even joking gave me fucking goosebumps. The implication was clear in her tone. Like, was she making a joke about poking holes in condoms? To me? For real? I tried to laugh it off, but it made me SO fucking uncomfortable. Like skin-crawling levels of skeeved the fuck out. And after that my sexual interest for her was entirely gone, it's like I processed her as a threat or something. To be entirely honest? My libido in general is entirely fucking gone. Still hasn't come back. It feels like it's hibernating or something, until the scary lady is gone.
I know what you're thinking, "Why didn't you communicate?", and I tried, like a couple times, but when she said "Oh my god, I was kidding you big baby!" but never denied that the joke was about that. I dropped it, and stopped bringing it up. I didn't think it was worth the fight at that point, because while I still do care about her, like, a lot, I do not feel comfortable even going to sleep around her, and there is no way that is gonna mesh with a healthy relationship. If there's no trust, there's no relationship, that's how I feel, right? So I broke up with her, and when I told her, I said it was because I really needed to "focus on myself". Didn't see a point in telling her then - it would have just pissed her off. As is, she seemed to take it in stride, not angry, or concerningly upset, so that's good.
My family is more heartbroken than I am, and I haven't been great. They're begging me to reconsider, not that I would, especially considering there's no way in hell I'm telling them anything, my mother would be beside herself, think 'grandchildren please son, give me grandchildren', but more than that, I know even my dad, who doesn't care about grandchildren, and recognizes that he's more likely to get them from my younger siblings, would call me out for overreacting. So they got the same story she did. It's frustrating, because I know it's no big deal, and a joke, but it had also been upsetting, or sad. .
I know I'm overreacting, but in the moment it felt like my only option, and I really don't want to take it back even if I am. I know you may think I'm paranoid, and I probably am, but I just could not stop thinking about it. After she told that joke, I think it was gonna end one way or another, so I'm glad it ended on decent terms instead of trying to stay and fix everything until I hated her.
Sorry, I'm talking a lot, but Like I said, no one to talk to about this because being unreasonable IRL is like a criminal arrest and I'm trying to avoid another of that particular black mark on my reputation. Anyway. Off to research Vasectomies because I will not be entering another relationship, or becoming any kind of active with anyone until then haha.
TL;DR: My ex made a broken-condom joke and I spiraled so hard I ended the relationship, but that's really embarrassing so I half-heartedly claimed it was for self improvement instead.
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Comments
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Birchbeerisawesome
First of all, you are young, and relationships aren’t always going to work out long term. Also, since you had such a strong reaction to the “joke”, it seems like the vascectomy route is going to be your best path going forward! I’m of the firm belief that if you don’t want kids, definitely don’t risk having them! You will be ok in the long run, stick by what’s right for you!
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maximusultra
If you're 100% child free as a dude fr vasectomy is the legit end game , but you have to do the 3 months of condoms or abstinence but also need to beat the shmeat 20x to clear the mag
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absolutemadwoman
One of the secrets in life is: you can break up with someone for ANY reason.
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Update - 1.5 months later
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Well. I never ever thought I would update, but I have one, lol. Like I thought I had lost the password to this account and everything, but it was saved in the notes on my laptop. This isn't much of an update, but I can say that I did end up telling my friends more about the breakup- after I found out my ex is trying for a baby with her new bf, also her ex.
Also I wasn't stalking her to get this information, I live in a small town, and two of my friends came to me and told me. They said they didn't want me to find out from someone else, but I didn't really care outside of the relief that now I was sure that she wasn't pregnant during the breakup, something that had been giving me nightmares- they calmed down. Apparently both of them thought I would react badly to the information and spiral or something. Whatever.
I know a lot of people said I had taken a joke and overreacted, was a cruel-hearted and evil misogynist trying to control her body and everything else, but this just confirmed to me that she was never joking. I mean, its been a little over two months since the break-up, and she's trying to have a baby.
I'm not angry at her anymore, not at all, in fact I'm happy for her, because if this is what she want's good for her. I just wish she could have told me sooner, so as to not waste either of our times.
I've been working on getting a Vasectomy, but as of now it hasn't happened yet. But as I mentioned in the last post I won't be sexually/romantically active to any degree with anyone but my hand until that's completed. I think I'm lightly traumatized- this is a joke, you can laugh! What else? Uhhh.... I'm thinking about getting a new dog? I have nothing else to add here, but thanks anyway.
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Comments
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granny_weatherwax_
You know what? I don't think you broke up over a joke. I think you broke up over a threat. If my partner joked about getting me pregnant by fucking with my birth control, and I KNEW they wanted to be a parent, I would have a really hard time trusting them again, especially without an earnest apology and a straightforward conversation where they acknowledged why the "joke" would be scary.
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Alien_lifeform_666
Absolutely, 100%, that was a threat. She was effectively telling him that she could arrange to get pregnant if she wanted to, and there’s nothing he could do about it. That’s breakup territory.
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Ok_Budget1724
Interesting perspective - I’ve been begging for an IUD but have made similar jokes in the past - fully anticipating he would be wearing a condom or having plan b effective / an abortion as worst case scenario. I think getting a vasectomy if YOU don’t want children is important. I stopped traditional birth control for health reasons / disorganisation but always let that partner know.

OOP: Yeah, I explained it in the last post to a degree, but I didn't really get into my medical anxiety. I have it a lot, and even when I made my last post I knew I was going to have to get one, because I realized trusting someone else with my future- no matter how trustworthy they may seem- isn't enough. I have never, and never intend to have sex without a condom. Even after the vasectomy, and every woman I've been with sexually has expressed that they are also childfree, and are on birth control of some kind. I am not into taking chances. I wouldn't mentally be able to handle having a child, and I would be a terrible father. I knew it was my time to take it into my own hands after last time, but was still extremely nervous, to the point I was considering becoming celibate, just to avoid the possibility all together.
It was actually the men, and wives of men on reddit who reached out after my last post, and explained that they understood the nerves, and they were natural, but that it really wasn't as scary, or as painful as it sounds. I am very thankful for that, because it helped me to get up the balls (pun not intended), to bring it up with my doctor and start the process. Some even gave me advice on how to deal with the healing process, which I have fully taken under advisement.
I'm hoping that afterword I feel the same way they do: Confused and frustrated with myself as to why I didn't do it sooner.

​
I am not the OOP. Please do not harass the OOP.
Please remember the No Brigading Rule and to be civil in the comments

Round 1, Pick 5 - Joe Alt, OT, Notre Dame:
NFL: Head coach Jim Harbaugh is set on building an offensive bully and that starts with the offensive line. Alt comes in as a polished tackle who’ll step in and immediately boost the unit and protect Justin Herbert.
CBS Sports: B. He is the best in this class, but now he has to make the transition to right tackle for Jim Harbaugh. That can be tough to do. But taking a lineman makes sense, I just might have taken J.C. Latham as a better fit.
ESPN: Chargers general manager Joe Hortiz said they would stick to the process of picking the best player available, a strategy he learned from 26 years in the Baltimore Ravens personnel department that won him two Super Bowls. Selecting Alt on Thursday night supports this theory. The Chargers currently employ only four receivers -- none of whom has a season over 800 yards in the NFL -- and passed on taking the second-best receiver in the class. The Chargers are returning four of their five offensive line starters from last season and signed center Bradley Bozeman in free agency, but stuck to their strategy despite much bigger needs on the roster.
NFL Absolutely Not Fake News: His Skyrim character is Thad: The High King of Skyrim.
Round 2, Pick 34 - Ladd McConkey, WR, Georgia:
NFL: Our second pick, second receiver and first trade of the night. The Patriots slide back a few spots, and the Chargers get a receiver who should be thrust right into the mix. Although McConkey had injury issues at Georgia, if he's able to stay healthy, he could be Justin Herbert's favorite target in due time. With great route-running skills and impressive separation ability, McConkey could be an 80-catch player one day.
CBS Sports: A. Crafty, athletic, polished WR who can win on the boundary and in the slot. Releases are great. Route-running nuance also there. Deceptive speed and YAC skills.
ESPN: After trading Keenan Allen and releasing Mike Williams, the Chargers came into the draft with just four receivers on the roster. None among that receiving group of Joshua Palmer, Quentin Johnston, Derius Davis and Simi Fehoko had ever topped 800 yards in an NFL season. Since Herbert entered the league in 2020, he has always had a coterie of reliable pass-catchers, including players like running back Austin Ekeler and tight end Gerald Everett, who both left in free agency. McConkey, the Chargers hope, gives Herbert another player he can count on in the passing offense after many key departures.
NFL Absolutely Not Fake News: Cannot stand The Office save for Scott’s Tots.
Round 3, Pick 69 - Junior Colson, LB, Michigan:
NFL: If there was one player I would have bet would follow Jim Harbaugh to the Chargers, it would have been Mike Sainristil or Colson. The latter was the emotional heartbeat of a championship Michigan defense, as Colson is a full-tilt competitor who brings his all to every game and every practice. He's a tackling machine whose coverage limitations were likely what caused him to fall out of the top 50 picks.
CBS Sports: B. Ties to Jim Harbaugh and addresses a need at off-ball LB. Best tackling linebacker in the class by a wide margin. Flashed some coverage chops in 2023 but not a speciality. I didn’t see premier range or speed to the football. Beats blocks with decent regularly and ball skills must show up more in NFL. Very young.
ESPN: This was a position of need for the Chargers and Colson, who was a second-team Big Ten selection and led the team with 95 tackles last season, will bring necessary competition to a mostly unproven group. Both of the Chargers' starting outside linebackers in 2023 won't be back next season, as Kenneth Murray Jr. signed with the Tennessee Titans in free agency and Eric Kendricks was released in March. Linebackers Daiyan Henley (51 defensive snaps in 2023) and Nick Niemann (238 defensive snaps in 2023) are the Chargers' lone returning linebackers from last season, but they also signed Denzel Perryman and Troy Dye.
NFL Absolutely Not Fake News: We all know what pick this is so make with the ‘nice’ jokes.
Round 4, Pick 105 - Justin Eboigbe, DT, Alabama:
NFL: Jim Harbaugh keeps beefing up both fronts. Eboigbe played well in Bama's Rose Bowl loss to Harbaugh's Wolverines, so this pick isn't a shock. The Chargers are adding toughness in Eboigbe, assuming his health improves. He had a breakout season in 2023.
CBS Sports: C+. Classic Nick Saban defensive lineman. Two-gapping extraordinaire with thick, powerful frame. Good first-step quickness but won’t be a calling card to win as a pass rusher consistently in the NFL. Not a pass-rush move type. Higher floor than upside. Limited role.
ESPN: The Chargers begin Day 3 by filling another of the team's most significant needs. L.A. is set at outside linebacker on their defensive line with Khalil Mack, Joey Bosa and Tuli Tuipulotu, but they are largely unproven in the interior. Some of the Chargers' best interior defenders from last season, defensive tackle Sebastian Joseph-Day and defensive tackle Austin Johnson, won't be back in 2024. Eboigbe, 6-foot-4, 275 pounds, was a first-team All-SEC selection last season, finishing with a caterer-high seven sacks.
NFL Absolutely Not Fake News: Has been known to run around banging coconuts together simulating a horse.
Round 5, Pick 137 - Tarheeb Still, CB, Maryland:
NFL: The first tape I watched of Still, coincidentally, was against Michigan -- and he looked good. Jim Harbaugh clearly agreed, although Still's lack of elite speed or size might make him more of a candidate to kick inside as a nickel.
CBS Sports: C+. Chippy, fluid CB who wants to come up and hit people. Super-smooth hips. Doesn’t have the length or pure speed to be lockdown type but gets the most out of his athletic skill set. Won’t follow routes perfectly at the next level. Can be too grabby in man. Infectious energy on the field. Just lacks premier traits.
ESPN: The Chargers' pass defense was abysmal last season, allowing 249.6 yards per game, which ranked 30th in the NFL. So they had to address their secondary in the draft. Still, who is 6-foot and 189 pounds, ran a 4.52 in the 40-yard dash at the combine and finished with five interceptions last season, which tied for sixth in the FBS. He has lined up primarily outside (77% of his snaps came from out wide), but he can also play in the slot.
NFL Absolutely Not Fake News: His favorite operating system is Windows XP.
Round 5, Pick 140 - Cam Hart, CB, Notre Dame:
NFL: The Chargers double up on long DBs to help combat the AFC West's playmakers. Hart has a strong athletic profile, and he has the perfect makeup to be a special teams coverage standout as well.
CBS Sports: B-. Old-school, long outside CB. Huge with extreme length. Moves well for his size but probably won’t be able to stay with quick separators in the NFL on a regular basis. Last-resort grabbing gets him into trouble during the route. Speed is average and didn’t make many plays on the ball but not tested often. Maybe move to safety?
ESPN: Cornerback is the first position where the Chargers have drafted multiple players so far, proving that the group was one Hortiz knew needed improvement and competition. Cornerback may also be Hortiz's favorite position. He told reporters that he "never feels full at corner. That is a position that you never stop chasing," he said. The Chargers now have six cornerbacks on the active roster, including the 6-3, 202-pound Hart.
NFL Absolutely Not Fake News: Takes three to five business days to reply to an email.
Round 6, Pick 181 - Kimani Vidal, RB, Troy:
NFL: I'm a bit surprised the Chargers didn't take a back before this, but Vidal has a chance to join the RB rotation for Jim Harbaugh. Vidal's profile reads similarly to Blake Corum, so it's easy to see why Harbaugh might view him favorably.
CBS Sports: A. This is a future feature back. Stocky, well-built frame. Between the tackles experience and can blend slashing and multi-cut style together. Elusive, sets up blockers well and has effortless power through contact at times. Not a true burner.
ESPN: Since the Jim Harbaugh era began in February, the theme for the Chargers has been on running the football. Vidal gives them depth at a position that will be one of the most important on the team. Considering the talent in the Chargers' running back room, which includes J.K. Dobbins and Gus Edwards, Vidal likely projects to be mainly a special teams contributor in his first year. Vidal set the Troy career (4,010), single-season (1,661), and single-game (248) rushing records, and his great-uncle is Baseball Hall of Famer Hank Aaron.
NFL Absolutely Not Fake News: Spreads his love of Frito Pie eaten out of the little bag, like God intended.
Round 7, Pick 225 - Brenden Rice, WR, USC:
NFL: Jerry Rice's son and Caleb Williams' go-to guy figured to go a few rounds higher than this, but it's possible scouts felt there was more development needed in his game. With the Chargers, there are WR jobs open for Rice to make the roster early on.
CBS Sports: B+. Downfield specimen with quality size. Didn’t test amazingly but was a vertical weapon for Caleb Williams at USC. Stiff routes and only glimmers of YAC but has the power to run through some tackles. Fun fit with Justin Herbert. Son of NFL legend Jerry Rice.
ESPN: Only four receivers were on the Chargers roster before the draft, so drafting a second receiver seemed inevitable. Rice, 6-3, 208 pounds, is the son of Pro Football Hall of Fame receiver Jerry Rice. He played his final two seasons for the Trojans, where he was the primary deep target for No. 1 pick Caleb Williams. Rice led the team with a 14.6 air yards per target average in 2023, and 7 of his 12 TD receptions were on vertical routes -- tied for the sixth-most in the FBS.
NFL Absolutely Not Fake News: After adjusting the other picks & removing outliers he regresses to 1st overall.
Round 7, Pick 253 - Cornelius Johnson, WR, Michigan:
NFL: Another Michigan player for Jim Harbaugh. Johnson rarely was featured in Michigan's run-heavy system, but he made his mark as a blocker and occasional big-play receiver. His hands are inconsistent, but Johnson could find footing in L.A.
CBS Sports: C+. Sizable receiver who can deceive CBs with his long-striding speed when given a runaway. Inflexible movements will keep him from getting open on regular basis or winning against press. Ball skills are good in traffic.
ESPN: The more, the merrier in the Chargers receiving room. Johnson is their third pick at receiver, and for good reason. Johnson is also a familiar face, playing under Jim Harbaugh at the University of Michigan and the many other Michigan coaches on the Chargers staff. Johnson, 6-foot-3, 212 pounds, was a four-year starter at receiver and had 119 receptions since the start of 2021, the sixth most in the Big Ten. Johnson mainly played out wide in his career, with 84% of his snaps over the last three seasons coming lined up on the outside.
NFL Absolutely Not Fake News: Upset with the rising price of cheese and cheese related goods.

Here I have included my pre-draft, post-draft, and fantasy football WR evaluations (shortened for brevity). This is regarding real life skillsets and performance, and the fantasy football ranking is for redraft. I believe that the IRL evaluation is good enough for dynasty as well, even when skillsets don't match fantasy productive ones.
Pre-Draft Rankings:
Tier 1:
These are all players who I don’t want to delve into. They are the safe, elite prospects who don’t have any red flags, which is what differentiates them from the tier below.

1. Marvin Harrison Jr.
2. Malik Nabers
3. Rome Odunze

Tier 2:
Each of the three players in this tier are elite, but have one or several red flags and uncertainty to their game.

1. Troy Franklin
   1. Troy Franklin is a smooth route runner with great deep speed (moves like Ridley), but what truly makes him elite is his much underrated awareness. He has an impeccable feel for both zone and the defensive back’s mind, allowing him to slide into space and break out of the reach of corners, and he also holds an elite release package paired with great ball tracking. From what I’ve seen, Franklin is also the most willing and able blocker in this class. His biggest flaw to me is not his slight frame, but rather his lack of extension when going for catches, perhaps due to his small hands, which allows for random drops and makes him more susceptible to drops through contact.
2. Xavier Worthy
   1. While Worthy has risen in draft boards, the respect for him has fallen after his record breaking 40 yard dash. Worthy might have speed, but he is not all speed. Worthy has been an elite player his whole career, with an extremely early breakout and impressive freshman season. He is often dinged for his ball tracking, an important trait for deep threats, but I don’t see it. Worthy also offers elite YAC ability. He has the mental capability to be used as a consistent threat out of motion, as I don’t see him having the same release package as Franklin. The flaw with him is both being and playing small.
3. Brian Thomas Jr.
   1. BTJ is built in a prototypically phenomenal way. He possesses elite speed, size, and agility for that size – the makings of an elite receiver. He was also an elite producer in college. Thomas Jr. doesn’t necessarily show a lot of flaws in his game (aside from a few small things) – rather he doesn’t show a lot of anything at all. His flaw is that there is not enough information about his game out there to make the evaluation process thorough enough. Questions remain about his route tree and ability to play a variety of roles in an offense. At the very least, he steps into a team as an elite deep threat. In my opinion, Thomas Jr. offers a higher ceiling than Odunze, Worthy, and Franklin, but there’s just not enough for me to look at here.

Tier 3:
Tier 3 contains three players who show a lot of good things on film, but also have almost horrible production profiles.

1. Ladd McConkey
   1. McConkey reminds me of Christian Kirk stylistically. He possesses elite quickness and solid route running with very quick, twitchy steps. It is clear that he knows how to keep defensive backs guessing. I also noted that he shows strong YAC abilities and the willingness to seek out contact.
2. Adonai Mitchell
   1. He might have diabetes, and he might be lazy, but AD is smooth. I thought he’d run a 4.55, and at that point I had him at 6 I believe. AD has sneaky athleticism and deceptive quickness, and a very encouraging frame to pair with this. While I don’t see a lot of flaws in his game, I will say that he has one of the worst analytical profiles I have ever seen.
3. Roman Wilson
   1. Wilson is my favorite player in the draft, and I have been waiting for him to join the NFL for years. While I am not a Michigan fan, I have watched a lot of Michigan and Ohio State games, and fell in love with Wilson’s play. He is an elite athlete, with a willingness to go up strong for balls, and is simply just good at the game of football. I believe he would have shown a lot more if he was on a more passing oriented offense.

Tier 4:
Tier 4 has three players who are both older prospects and also have questionable production profiles.

1. Ricky Pearsall
   1. Slick Rick is definitely slick. He has arguably the greatest catch in CFB history, and is a silky route runner with great athleticism and burst. He seems to have a great understanding of how to run routes. Pearsall is a 5 season player, with non-elite production in any of those years – however he has shown improvement in every one of those years. He is not the tenth best receiver in this class right now – I only have him this low because of his age. However, I don’t think he has the production or the film to strongly suggest that he’s better than any of the players I listed before, which is why the age can lower him. Tank Dell was a 24 year old rookie, but his film would be enough for me to raise him higher.
2. Xavier Legette
   1. Legette has elite speed paired with elite size. I will not say he has elite athleticism however. His agility is not nearly good enough for me to give him that title. This is where I feel people tend to misterm athleticism – by equating it to a size/speed combo. Legette also only had one year of elite production. Legette is great at the catch point, with solid hand technique and vertical ability, but he leaves a lot to be desired with his release and his hip flexibility. He is not yet a strong route runner. I don’t really mind his late breakout too much – he has a lack of refinement in his game that would explain this as he is a growing player, but here’s some good scouting: what I truly can’t deal with is his accent.
3. Malik Washington
   1. Washington is another late producer like Legette, with only elite production in his 5th year. However, I believe that was due to him playing his time out in an awful Northwestern offense. Washington left Northwestern not through a transfer, but because he finished his degree early. He might be small, but he is incredible at football, and offers elite YAC ability to pair with his excellent feel for zones and space. The only reason I have Washington this low (although it is not low) is because I know he will be overlooked in the NFL and will have a difficult path to success.

Tier 5:
The players in this tier will likely all have a role in the NFL, or at least the chance to have a role in the NFL.

1. Ja’Lynn Polk
   1. Polk bores me a bit, but he’s good. I believe he is a useful asset to any team in the NFL. He plays with a lot of grit, which teams should like, and is all around a solid and smart player.
2. Malachi Corley
   1. The self proclaimed “YAC King” is exactly that. In fact, his YAC ability is so good that it’s almost as if he was a running back playing receiver. Oh right. He is. That being said, Corley has the agility to become a great receiver. While his switch is probably due to wanting the longevity and paycheck associated with the position, I don’t doubt that he has the ability to make up for his late start. He’s not really there yet, so his athleticism only gets him this high.
3. Keon Coleman
   1. Coleman is in the classic “Alpha” mold. If you’re wondering why he’s so low, I just don’t like that mold. I don’t care about his 40 time, he seems fast enough to me. In my opinion, Coleman does not have the agility and hip flexibility required to run great routes. That’s why I just don’t see him learning route running. He offers elite vertical leaping ability, body control, and good hands to match this, but he’s not Mike Evans. I don’t think Coleman has no path to success in the NFL – he’s still a decent player, just not my kind of player. The landing spot will matter with this one.
4. Jermaine Burton
   1. I don’t like Burton. There’s just something about his face – he looks like a less creepy Spencer Rattler. However, I’d say he’s a good player. He has solid athleticism, and I believe he has the ability to run a variety of routes, despite working in a vertical offense. Burton has great hands, albeit a short catch radius, and plays very strong. There’s definitely things to like about his game – and who knows, maybe being a bad character is a good trait.
5. Javon Baker
   1. Baker strikes me as someone who loves football, with an alpha receiver mentality. He might know too much – while he has great route running, he sometimes seems to almost spam fakes and make unnecessary movements that leave me confused instead of the corner. That’s not really a big concern for me though. He is great at the catch point as well, showing great determination and body control. I’m not sure he has the athleticism to truly be elite, and while the Big 12 is a decent conference, the defensive backs in his film seemed to be mostly bums, but with a good landing spot I think he has the ability to shine. I’m rather surprised that he decided to transfer out of Alabama, but whatever, it worked out.
6. Jalen McMillan
   1. The much underrated and overlooked third brother. McMillan looks soft, but he has good athleticism and good flexibility. He’s also a good route runner with good body control. I’d say he’s good. With players like him, it really depends on how much the team that drafted him believes in him. I don’t doubt that it will be easy for him to get hidden in a deep WR room.

Tier 6:
Tier 6 are the guys who I think are good players but don’t think they will get a chance to show that, with play strength and size being concerns. I think they can work despite this, but I doubt NFL front offices will.

1. Jamari Thrash
   1. Thrash is a smooth player with great route savviness, but is complete trash when it comes to contact (easy pun intended). Physical corners can easily thrash him around during his routes.
2. Jacob Cowing
   1. Cowing probably has the highest likelihood of success among the three, as he possesses the best release package which is important for small receivers. However, he’s no Tank Dell. In fact, he IS Tank Dell, just worse at every aspect of the game. He’s arguably more athletic however, and showcases elite explosiveness.
3. Ainias Smith
   1. Explosive with quick feet, but is small and plays small. I think he has a lot of ability, but he’s not the type of player that NFL teams want to trust.

Tier 7:
Tier 7 contains players who don’t have it right now, but could have it with some development.

1. Tez Walker
   1. There was a lot of hope for Tez coming into the 2023 season, and he delivered. Delivered very little. While he showcased absolutely zero route running savvy, he has the elite athleticism to make up for this, and is not completely inflexible. I do want to blame the college football body and UNC for some of his failures, and he wasn’t really all that bad. I just don’t think he’s quite there yet.
2. Luke McCaffrey
   1. McCaffrey has great athleticism and elite lineage, but that’s about it. He wasn’t bad in college, but played for Rice. He’s in the middle of his learning curve for the position after converting from being a mediocre QB, and I’m sure he can figure it out – I’m not out on him.
3. Johnny Wilson
   1. Wilson is absolutely incredible for his size. He is a fluid athlete with solid speed, and more than decent route running. Unfortunately, at his size he needs to be excellent at the catch point and with contested catches. He is not. In fact, it’s his weakness – he is extremely soft, unlike his hands. He’s the odd case where I think he’d be much more successful if he dropped half a foot in height. If you combined the best of Johnny and Keon, you’d have a possible goat receiver.

Tier 8:
Tier 8 has guys who piqued my interest with their play, but are likely going nowhere. Gould is small, Bub Means is named Bub Means, Vele is an old man, and Coker is slow and played for Holy Cross.

1. Anthony Gould
2. Bub Means
3. Devaughn Vele
4. Jalen Coker

Tier 9 is all of the guys I haven’t watched enough of that didn’t make this list due to that.
Tier 10 consists of the players who are, in my humble opinion, bad.
Tier 10:

1. Brenden Rice
   1. My evaluation of Rice has nothing to do with his father. I truly do believe that he is the second worst receiver in the class. In fact, I think he will obviously get a shot because of his father, and that he has the work ethic and connections to improve dramatically as a player. However, as of right now, while he has solid hands, he runs everything in one gear, and it’s visually appalling. He stomps the ground as he runs, and while it seems like he has some understanding of route running techniques, it all goes to waste since he runs his routes as hard as possible.
2. Cornelius Johnson
   1. As I said earlier in my Roman Wilson evaluation, I have watched a lot of Michigan games. This means I watched his counterpart on the other side – Corn Johnson. In all my years of watching football, I have never seen a player worse than Corn. He is truly awful at the game. He has absolutely zero ball knowledge and route running ability. He’s actually pretty decent at the catch point, but not enough to make up for his terrible play in every other facet of the game. He somehow had Harbaugh’s trust to keep starting, so I still wouldn’t be surprised if he was drafted, but whatever team makes that decision has completely wasted a pick they could’ve otherwise spent trading for McCorkle Jones or some other washed up player.

Post-Draft Rankings and Comments:
Contrary to popular opinion, I believe that situation is actually very important regarding a wide receiver's career. It is worth noting that I actually did my pre-draft ranking writeups after the draft despite wording them as though they were written pre-draft, therefore the adjustments here are not new revelations, rather they are simply the changes I believe draft capital and landing spot make.

1. Marvin Harrison Jr.
   1. Great landing spot, bad franchise
2. Malik Nabers
   1. Mediocre landing spot, bad franchise with bad assets but good volume. Will play alongside WanDale Robinson, a player who also generates elite separation.
3. Rome Odunze
   1. Landing spot is alright, the franchise is bad but the team is set up well. Will be the WR3 to start however, but that should not necessarily hinder his career.
4. Xavier Worthy
   1. Very good landing spot with the best quarterback in the league, and another field stretcher already on the roster, suggesting that he might run routes with some variety and improve his game. It is not a perfect system for production however.
5. Brian Thomas Jr.
   1. Attached to a good, young QB, who should help each other. Thomas Jr was clearly drafted to slot into the alpha role, with Kirk taking the slot and Davis stretching the field. At the very least, Thomas will also be an elite field stretcher, really opening up things for Kirk and Engram underneath, as well as opening the box for Etienne. The franchise does not have a great history with receivers.
6. Roman Wilson
   1. Excellent, phenomenal landing spot. Wilson lands in another run-heavy offense as the clear WR2, from a team and staff that has been historically great with evaluating and developing receiver talent.
7. Ladd McConkey
   1. McConkey is presumably the current or soon-to-be WR1 in LA. The landing spot is definitely good amidst a weak WR corps, although I’m not fully certain about his ability to be the Alpha. Perhaps they expect something out of QJ? Palmer is solid but not spectacular.
8. Ricky Pearsall
   1. For his age, the spot isn’t ideal, but the capital is great. Pearsall is definitely a good player, and if one of Deebo or Aiyuk is traded (likely Deebo) he comes into a great role. I’d call it a good landing spot.
9. Troy Franklin
   1. The capital is horrible, and I feel teams have made a huge mistake here. Franklin is too nice and genuine of a guy to have that ‘chip on his shoulder’ effect from his fall, but he will definitely take his role seriously. With his talent, I see him slotting in as the WR2 on this offense early, especially with the Nix connection, but he has to beat out Mims. For the capital, it was definitely the best landing spot he could have got with a team that really wants him.
10. Ja’Lynn Polk
    1. New England is historically awful at wide receiver evaluation, but Polk is solid and will come into a WR room with no alpha and a rookie QB. Pop Douglas is a good slot receiver, and Bourne is alright, but that’s about it. I believe they should play a Polk - Douglas - Baker line, but Bourne will likely be starting, which is understandable.
11. Adonai Mitchell
    1. Awful landing spot. The worst he could have hoped for. AD has that chip on his shoulder, but he comes in as the WR3 in a role that is likely mostly field stretching. If there was actually a lot for him to learn, then this landing spot subtly becomes very good.
12. Keon Coleman
    1. I would argue that this is the best landing spot for any player in the draft. The capital is excellent, and the fit is excellent. Keon might not get any separation, but Josh Allen is exactly brain dead enough to just chuck it to him anyways. Very few other quarterbacks would have the confidence in him to simply target him despite being draped, and Allen is a very good one, who might be forced to pass to him considering how weak the room is. I believe Shakir and Kincaid are decent, and that Samuel might be better than Coleman, but Allen and the team will likely treat Coleman like the alpha, and this will be reflected in his targets. It also helps that Coleman is a very likable character, which might offset his bad at football accusations with great production on poor efficiency.
13. Xavier Legette
    1. It’s a new front office in Carolina, but I don’t really trust the pick. It doesn’t help my concerns when you consider Legette is also from Carolina, which might bias the selection, especially when everyone knew he was going there but nobody cared enough to try to get him over Carolina. On the plus side, he went to the only place where people can understand him, and he fits the room well alongside Diontae Johnson. He’ll probably play in a role that doesn’t suit his skillset, but he can succeed here if Bryce steps it up with an improved line.
14. Malachi Corley
    1. Good landing spot as a YAC slot player, while living with Rodgers. Definitely intriguing, although the franchise is bad so his development might be minimal.
15. Jermaine Burton
    1. Good landing spot imo, with room to learn the position and role and then replace Tee Higgins. Still don’t like the guy.
16. Javon Baker
    1. Lands in an open room with alright capital. Is the WR4 already imo, with an opportunity to earn the alpha role if he’s up for it.
17. Luke McCaffrey
    1. Great capital for the level of play he’s shown. He definitely has a role as a starter intended, although I hope they took him due to athleticism and not name (3rd is too high for it to be name value).
18. Devontez Walker
    1. Good spot to learn and possibly start while getting no targets.
19. Malik Washington
    1. Bad landing spot, and bad draft capital. Washington is fantastic, but he’s old and behind two great receivers, not to mention OBJ being signed (which I imagine means he will play). Washington could have started in the slot, but now he will have to wait and earn a role.
20. Jalen McMillan
    1. He’s the WR3 in Tampa, but Godwin will likely take the slot, which means he might be the WR4 unless they play him on the outside.
21. Jacob Cowing
    1. Deep corps with Pearsall taken ahead of him, but a good place to grow.
22. Jamari Thrash
    1. He has one great receiver ahead of him, and two alright receivers that I don’t believe he has the quality to surpass, but I think he can gap Cedric Tillman. There’s probably not much hope here.
23. Ainias Smith
    1. Smith can beat out Parris Campbell for the slot role, and while he doesn’t strike me as a consistent player, he can still ‘thrive’ for meager numbers under a great corps.
24. Bub Means
    1. The WR3 in the room is open, and by all means the job is his to take (that pun was actually unintentional I swear I only noticed it after writing it).
25. Brenden Rice
    1. He might be horrible but the WR room is completely open, and his late draft capital might make Papa Jerry step in and give him some instruction in how to play the position. There’s probably some sort of upside here.
26. Johnny Wilson
    1. He could definitely beat out Devante Parker who has the exact opposite skillset as a fellow big receiver, but the slot is the role that is open outside of AJ Brown and Smitty. The volume is also going to be low.
27. Anthony Gould
    1. The Colts landing spot doesn’t suddenly look better. Obvious depth role with no hope of ever starting.
28. Devaughn Vele
    1. I could see Payton really liking him, and him earning time, but he’s 26. I believe in him though, despite this ranking.
29. Jalen Coker
    1. Panthers are bad, undrafted is bad, I don’t see him getting a chance.
30. Cornelius Johnson
    1. I almost raised Corn higher because Harbaugh drafted him, and Harbaugh obviously knows more about him than I do, but then I remembered how bad he truly is. I insist that there’s no hope for him, he’s just awful.

Fantasy Football Rankings (only included plausible contributors):

1. Marvin Harrison Jr.
2. Malik Nabers
3. Ladd McConkey
4. Xavier Worthy
5. Keon Coleman
6. Rome Odunze
7. Brian Thomas Jr.
8. Xavier Legette
9. Roman Wilson
10. Troy Franklin
11. Ja’Lynn Polk
12. Adonai Mitchell
13. Ricky Pearsall
14. Malachi Corley
15. Jermaine Burton

1330 Terran Front Fleet Time
On the Turinika homeworld, the first signs of unrest began to manifest like a wave, The broadcast of the most esteemed Tizikikoonazikiakakiatkata, Taratanti of the roost Kazatalak, openly performing the act of Kavsa had been met with shock. The last Taratanti who had voluntarily performed Kavsa had done so in protest of the treatment of the Kulorn caste, nearly two thousand years prior. It was an ancient rite, one that signified rejection of the greatest shame. Even more shocking than the act itself was the evidence that had followed it. Visuals of species, brought into the Conclave, not as migrant workers as had been believed, but as slaves, was met with an almost immediate attempt at censorship. This attempt failed spectacularly, mostly due to those who had been tasked to censor the information not only refusing to follow the command, but openly declaring that they had been ordered to do so. A situation that was already, as the humans would say, out of hand, spiraled completely out of control. Within only twenty minutes of the ending of Tizikikoonazikiakakiatkata’s broadcast entire cities entered a state of absolute anarchy. Two planetary capitals were stormed and taken by the furious civilian population, demanding the location of those who had been enslaved. The Turinika Armada, which even then was in the middle of a training session meant to prepare the fleet to withstand the Terran Front’s assault, began to cease operations. Within the hour, the entire armada would be recalled to the turnika homeworld. Those who did not take to the streets simply stopped whatever work they were doing and went to their homes to be around their brood. Images of Tizikikoonazikiakakiatkata with his stripped wings spread wide in front of the human fleet commander were on every news fed of the Conclave, as was the sound of his thunderous voice, and the wails of despair from a turinika female that couldn’t be seen. Close ups of the human fleet commander’s face were shown, with analysts remarking on the shock, horror, and sympathy. Since the outbreak of the Seventh Orion War, the female human known as Simmons had been reported to have made several threats towards the turinika, she had quickly become seen as a warmonger, ready to take revenge against the turinika for refusing to go to war and violate their principles of pacifism. Now the images of her lunging forward to stop the violation of Tizikikoonazikiakakiatkata’s plumage, the agonized expression of her face, and the true reason for her threats against the turinika were rapidly reversing her image. On far flung deep core mining stations and agricultural stations, on deep space stations dedicated to material processing, and in other areas hidden from the sight of the normal turinikan population, overseers and taskmasters felt their hearts run cold at the knowledge that very soon, their part to play in the willful enslavement of another species would be known to the wider Conclave. As the data package transmitted alongside the broadcast were fully decompressed and the scale of the Conclave’s government’s involvement was revealed, the entirety of the Conclave itself was teetering on the verge of absolute pandemonium. The image of a member of the kolra species, from the look of it barely a hatchling, quickly was becoming the face of the entire incident. The picture was absolutely damning, and the sight of the image had sent any who saw it instantly into contorting and painful displays of shame. The young kolra was sprawled on it’s stomach, looking to the one taking it’s picture with eyes that had no life in them. It’s shell covered it’s back, and despite the age of the kolra it was already dulled and scuffed. The foot pressing down on the shell was unmistakably familiar to those who saw it, the clawed feet of a turinika. Within the hour, billions of winged figures stood in streets, the normally soft spoken and passive species demanding action, demanding justice, on the hundred worlds of the Turinika Conclave. The bulk of the Taratanti caste, most of whom had been left in the dark of the truth of the situation, quickly went public with their own declaration of outrage, and the eyes of the entire species turned inwards to the mountainous homeworld of their species.
Hakuri Watanabe looked down at his helmet before putting it on his bed, the stylized SEVEN seeming to stare at him. He sat down in his chair and picked up a small cloth from his buffing kit. No one knocked on his door, in fact, mostly he and the rest of his squad were left alone before a major operation. They were just given their time, time to mentally prepare. Some of his squad would go over their mission briefing, some, like him, would spend their time doing something to relax themselves. Hakuri always found that taking care of his suit calmed him considerably. Granted he could simply turn it over to the squads armorers to be tended to and they would do as good of a job as he could, but he preferred it to be done by his own hand. The symbol of a triangle was on his form fitting shirt, the symbol of his special operations command unit. He was known as a Myrmidon, but the official title of his unit was Section Three. He knew this, his superiors knew this, and as far as Hakuri knew, most of the Terran Front was aware of his unit’s existence, but past that, they knew very little about what he actually did. As far as his mother knew, Hakuri was a pencil pusher onboard the TFS Berlin, the troop mothership that all of his letters were sent from. He thought about writing her, but then again, he only liked to do that when he returned from a mission, not when he was expecting to go to one. If he tried to write her when he was waiting, he would just get anxious, and homesick. That wouldn’t do when he was dropping into a combat zone. That wouldn’t do at all. Hakuri instead started to buff his helmet, waiting for the word to come down which meant they were prepared to jump. A glance at the clock made him pause in his circular rotations. The clock said 1330. Operation Naked Sun was about to begin.
Tika was on his side, Kzia standing at the end of the medical bed that had been adjusted for his turinikan physiology. He felt cold in more ways than one. For his people, clothing was more of a decoration than a necessity, but without his protective plumage he felt the cold stabbing him through to his hollow bones. His diplomatic access was already gone, his privilege access revoked. He heard the broadcast for a preparation to jump, but he wasn’t truly listening. There was no question in his mind he had made the right decision. There was no question at all. One of the humans, a nurse, came to his side and gently laid a heavy blanket over him. The human’s hand lingered on his trembling body for a few moments before it was removed, and Tika glanced in their direction. The female was one of the ones who had responded first to the call for medical service for him, had heard what had happened and why. Tika had gotten very used to being glared at on this ship. He was hated, and he knew it. He knew he had deserved it. He was a party to the vral’s enslavement of the humans, the chua, and far too many others. When he had come to Thermopylae station, he had not even given that fact a single thought. He was born into power, being of the Taratanti. He belonged to the most powerful species and government in the entire quadrant of the galaxy. His people, while mighty, did not seek to use it. To him, they had simply been above it all. When the vral had approached him with the offer to sell captured species at first TIka had wanted to reject it out of hand, but a few had told him to go through with the sale. Such was the nature of this galaxy, or so he had believed. The weak were at the whims of the strong, and one’s place in the galaxy was determined only by the power they could wield. The turinika were not nearly the first to have taken a species and used it for slave labor, and while Tika did not approve of the deal, he had not fought it either. As he looked back to the wall, he remembered what the humans had taught him these last days. When he had arrived in Thermopylae he had assumed he would find the chua species to have been at the very least regulated to a subservient role, if not outright enslaved. Finding them sharing power was a curiosity. He had expected to be treated with all the honor and dignity that his station demanded, that the power of his government demanded. Fleet Marshal Simmons had disabused him of that, and had left him humiliated and shamed. As he had laid in the dark as Simmons had declared the Seventh Orion War, covered in his own filth, feeling as if at any moment he was going to be killed he knew true fear and horrific uncertainty for the first time in his life. He had never faced these emotions, these sensations before. He had always been in power. He had stood with the full might of the Turinika Conclave behind him. He had never known anything other than the superior position. Now, as he lay in the hospital bed, staring at the wall, he was ashamed of how arrogant, how blind, and how short sighted he had been. After he had risen from his own filth, he had desperately tried to convince his leadership of the strength of the Terran Front, how it matched or eclipsed their own. The Conclave was not the unchallenged power in the quadrant anymore. The terrans, the human and chua, had somehow defied fate. They had not fallen to the vral after ninety years of near constant conflict, and now if Tika was right they had come out of it nightmarishly stronger than before. Tika had actually begged to be heard by his superiors, and he had never come close to that once in his life. The chua homeworld however, had fully broken him. If he had not been on the Antares, had not been humbled beforehand, he knew that he would have just clapped his hands together and said that it was delightful. As the transmission from the chua homeworld had come in, and the rescue effort had begun, he could only wallow in his own shame. He had profited directly from the chua’s suffering, the human’s suffering. Again he had tried, and failed, to convince his people, and again he had failed. Being on the Antares, for him, was torture. The lights were too dim, every human and chua looked at him with nothing more than loathing and contempt, his entire worldview had been shattered from the way he viewed the galaxy to his own place in it. Every time he closed his eyes he saw the shadow of Simmons standing over him, her voice cold with a lethal rage, hearing her voice echo in his mind, seeing the glint from flashes of light shining in her eyes. ‘We Know.’ echoed in his mind in his sleep, the voice of the terrifying Fleet Marshal transforming into the sound of a vengeful god demanding compliance and promising retribution. Then he had watched the humans and chua, who he knew were preparing to go to war with his people, celebrating the return of the shesvie. Once more he had expected them to be integrated into the Terran Front, but as soon as he learned Simmons offer to them, and what it had entailed, he had been called to his room to answer the latest message from his people. Once again, his people had doubled down, the knowledge of the enslavement of the humans had been suppressed, and once more Tika found himself, and his people, standing against a Terran Front that had every justification to declare war, to right the wrongs that had been done to them. All the while, he knew something else. He knew that, after everything he had seen, that his people would lose. The turinika had not been to war for nearly two thousand years. His people were not ready for what the Terran Front could do, and after seeing what they had done to the vral so far, he knew his people were not ready for what the Terran Front would do. He was afraid of the dark. Tika was absolutely terrified of it now, because now he knew the monsters were real. Simmons had shown him that, but the humans, the chua, they were not the monsters. He was. He had refused to be one any more. He had announced his intentions to his staff, who had squalled in rejection, all but three. Kzia was the first to step to his side, Kikumot and Tziki had stepped forward as well. Never, in his most nightmarish dreams, did he ever think that he would stand in front of Simmons and voluntarily have his plumage stripped from him, performing the act of Kasva. He never thought that his staff would have ever compiled and transmitted the data package they had sent. He had never thought that he would betray his people, if only to save them. Simmons had changed that, the humans had changed that. He knew the terror of the dark, he knew fear for his people’s safety, he understood the horror of war, and for the first time in his long life he could truly look back at every interaction he had had, with every species, that had asked for help in their struggle for survival against the vral and truly understand their fear and desperation. Now he lay, his plumage stripped from him, his station revoked, his status removed, surrounded by a people who despised him. He wouldn’t have it any other way now. He knew that they would listen now, if not to him, then to the civilian masses of the Conclave that would not stand for what they had done. He prayed to the Great Mother often now, shivering in the dim light, hoping that it would be enough. He had been wrong, and in his error he had sullied his own people. He had made them complicit. Even now, he did not know how they would ever be forgiven, because right now he wasn’t quite sure he could ever forgive himself. As he heard the broadcast calling out on the ship, announcing one minute to jump, he felt a hand on his side, and looked up to the human nurse. She was smiling at him. Not a smile born of malice, or anger, but a genuine smile. She patted his side lightly, then turned to walk out of the room. For not even the twentieth time since he had come onboard Thermopylae, he was mystified by these people.
The bridge of the Dhampir was thrumming with music and the vibrations of the reactor and Conrad leaned forward in his chair mount, his eyes almost feral as he looked at the empty space that was the mandeville point. He was positively chomping at the bit. Batz was positively roaring the lyrics to the song that was blaring over the ships speakers. Rev and Dev sat side by side in their mounts, throwing their hands up in time with the pounding bass beat of the sound. Towns was the only one besides Conrad that was quiet, both of them looking towards the mandeville point with complete impatience. Conrad felt like jumping from his skin. Fidget, well, fidgetted, holding his hands over his headset and listening as if he were trying to hear secret messages in the music. They were ready, their pulses were racing. The crew of the Dhampir was positively vibrating. Conrad looked to the shipboard clock, seeing 1330 displayed, and his head snapped to Fidget, waiting for the word. They were going to run, they were going to chase, they were going to hunt.
Vicky sat back, looking towards Jess and Kukat as they slept. Jess was in her chair, Kukat in her medical bed. Vicky glanced back at the block print on the paper and read it for the fifth time. She read the individual lines, one at a time, cursing their existence. After reading through the message printed she let her hand hang again. Kukat would be released from medical tomorrow, and both her and Jess still thought they would be boarding the Thumper to join the Vellacore once more. Jess had talked non-stop about her quarters on the Vellacore the past few days, how she just wanted to be back in her room. Kukat was equally excited. Only Vicky didn’t share their excitement. They didn’t know yet. They didn’t know about their battlefield promotions, they didn’t know about their reassignments, they didn’t know the days of them working together were functionally over. Vicky looked down at her hand holding the paper again, and felt like crumpling it. She had lost her crew. She had lost them not due to negligence, or time, she had lost them to fame. Kukat was to be promoted to ensign, and was to be the sensor officer on the destroyer Hadrian, Jess was getting the same promotion, her station on the cruiser Victorious. Vicky? She was the sparkling new commanding officer of a destroyer that was arriving at Thermopylae in two days, the Quarrel. She never wanted this. She had turned down promotion after promotion that would take her from the cockpit of the Thumper, away from Kukat, away from Jess. She wanted to serve in this war in her own way, as a pilot, with the two who had made her life so enjoyable. Now though, they were to be split up, and there was nothing she could do about it. These promotions hadn’t come from simple seniority, they had come from High Command, as had the orders. Tomorrow, when Kukat was released, they would be ushered into the hanger bay of the Barrowmore. They would all three be awarded the Star of Terra, then they would be reassigned. Tonight was the last night they would all be together. Vicky wanted to wake them up, she wanted to tell them, to give them a chance to process it. As she looked to Kukat and Jess she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She held up the letter again, reading the first few lines, then she felt the sting of tears in the corners of her eyes. She looked away, her heart panging with sadness, and stared at the wall. The clock read 1330.
Corporal Brandy was sitting on the small rack, with Janet Shippen sitting between his legs using his thighs as armrests. They were both dressed for the first time in the last few hours, both of them staring at the clock. This close to the reactors they could feel them beginning to spool up for the trip through hyperspace. When the news of the operation had come down they had elected to spend as much time together as possible, which Brandy had enjoyed to no end, and he had made sure Janet had as well. Brandy had even taken some time to reach out to his sister Victoria, a rarity for them both, as since they were children they were often barely able to speak to each other simply due to schedules. He had even told her about Janet, and although he hadn’t gotten a response from his sister yet he already knew what she would say. Janet nestled back against him, but he could feel her body was stiff. Neither of them knew what the next few months were going to hold. Their time together might be constricted, in fact, this might be the last few moments they were together for quite awhile. Brandy’s Ghouls were specialists, ship boarders. Chances are he was going to be extremely busy, as was she. He didn’t quite know how he felt about Janet, but he did know that beyond a shadow of a doubt he didn’t want to be away from her. Judging from how she was acting, she felt the same as him, conflicted about her relationship with him, but not wanting to be apart. He knew what he needed to tell her, that he had to get up, that he had to leave. The Ghouls were going to be assembled at 1345, ready to board. Her unit was going to be prepared at the same time, to begin taking on salvage. Her hands were like clamps on his legs, and from how tense she was, he wasn’t going to get up until she was good and ready. The clock on the wall switched to 1330. He stared at the clock, feeling like the clock was mocking him, when suddenly Janet leaned up and turned. Her hands took hold of his shoulders and she threw her body against his, her lips finding his own. Her arms wrapped around her frame and he tightened his grasp on her.
Simmons spread her hands over the panel in front of her, looking at the table. Seven points connected the recently reclaimed chua space to what was former Shesvie territory, and beyond that, the heart of the Vral Empire. Her lip curled in a wicked smile, On the digital display of the table the hyperspace lanes, and more importantly, the avenues of attack her fleet was preparing to take. She held out her hand, all five fingers splayed over the lanes, envisioning the war as it stood now. The war to come. Seven hyperspace lanes, seven systems, branching out into sixteen, branching out again to another twenty. The Antares herself was going to link up with the Barraki, and was set to simply plough through the next five systems to do so. Slowly she tightened her hand into a fist as she looked along the hyperspace lanes, seeing task forces lined up and ready to jump. Drones had already been sent through. The vral had forces along the border, but nothing that could withstand what was to come. Her fleet was ready. She was ready. The Seventh Orion War was at the end of it’s first month, and had taken back six systems. The first moves of Operation Naked Sun would double that and exceed it, then double it again. She had already given her speech, her task force commanders were ready. High Command had taken it’s time making this decision, and while she had railed against the delay that didn’t matter now. All along the front, individual task forces were joined into larger fleets, ready to jump into the next system and eliminate any vral defenses, but unlike now, they simply would not wait. Naked Sun was to be a lightning strike to cut off as much of the Vral Empire as possible, to deny them their own space, to imprison them on their own worlds. Task Forces were designed around three types of vessels combinations, Lighthammer Task Forces were comprised of corvettes and fast destroyers, the fastest vessels in the fleet, meant to take systems quickly, to devastate unprotected infrastructure, and to eliminate light resistance. Simply put, they were going to swarm into vral space, determine pockets of resistance, and move on. They were going to rip entire sections of vral space from them, calling in other task groups if needed. Thunder task groups were the primary capital fleets, meant to be sent into those pockets of resistance, and neutralizing them, joining with the Lighthammer groups if needed. The cruisers, carriers, battleships, they all belonged to these task forces. Her own task force was called the Nova task force, and it comprised only the Antares and it’s sizable fleet escort. Simmons glanced up at the clock, the time was 1329. She breathed in slowly, then unbidden the thought came to her head and she looked to the report from the two habitable planets that had been scanned by the drone cutters, the information having been relayed to her almost twenty minutes prior. She was not worried about the ground campaign, in fact a reserve fleet from Thermopylae would be the ones to escort the landing ships from planet to planet that her fleet left behind in it’s wake, isolated and defenseless from the wider Vral Empire. Fleet escorting was no longer her job, protecting ground invasions were no longer her job. Simmons was positively growling now, as her only job was to take her fleet and use it to rip the vral out of the stars. Still, the thought nagged at her. On both of the planets that her fleet was set to overrun, there were Vral ships in orbit. On the first, there was evidence that the Vral had been bombarding a small area of the surface, extremely similar in size to the hole that now existed on Zvitia, the planet that even now was being integrated into the Terran Front. In the second system it showed Vral ships in orbit, but whatever they were doing during the time they had taken the scans, whatever they were covering up, they didn’t seem to have gotten to it yet. On the radiological scan of the planet a massive bloom of electromagnetic energy painted a broad region of the planet blistering white. She had sent the images back to Earth, back to High Command, but no one seemed to know what was happening. The one thing that every analyst agreed on so far that was that whatever the blooms represented, it meant nothing good. She took another long look at the radiological scan, seeing the intensity of the radiation, and her lip curled in a snarl. She couldn’t think about that right now, but orders had already been given to notify her the moment that they had taken a planet that still bore the radiation signal. The vral were being damned fastidious about it though. She pulled her thoughts away from it, looking back to the hyperspace lanes. The slow grin entered her features again. She glanced at the clock. 1330. Her hand took hold of the receiver next to her station and she pressed the transmission stud, knowing that Hazard had already opened a channel to the wider fleet.
“Commence.”

I have commented here a few times but never posted. It's long so i get if you dont want to read. I just have some feelings to let out! I've been with my(27f) SO(29m) for 4 years. He has a son(12) whom I met when he was 8. I am child free and have no interest in being a mother myself. However, I felt being a stepmom/cool aunt would be fine bc I don't have that big of an issue with kids and my SO only has SK EOWE (he now keeps SK 3 weekends a month bc SO's mother can't not stick her nose where it isn't wanted) I made the mistake of trying to be too helpful at the beginning of our relationship bc I am a people pleaser who didn't know better and wound up being main caregiver every weekend SK was here due to SO's excuse of having to work. For a little while it was fine bc SO had started a new, very fruitful and life changing job and I wanted to help him succeed and i was under the impression after a while he wouldnt be expected to work them as much. I picked up SK from BM's house after my own long day/week at work every weekend my SO had custody, I would pick up food for SK, even paid for groceries for SK when SO failed to get any for the weekend, cleaned up messes and was the only ear around for SK to yap into oblivion. HUGE MISTAKE!!! After a while (like 2.5 years) of this going on, no thanks or appreciation and then getting criticism from SO's father for literally parenting SK when no one else was, I threw my hat down and said I'm done taking care of SK for SO and would step back. Last year I had started to slowly nacho and do less and less as my resentment towards both SK and SO grew larger. At this point in time, SO was CHOOSING to work these weekends instead of being required to; and choosing to pick up extra OT (an extra 8 hours on top of the 16 he is working that weekend) on some of these weekends while taking off on weekends we didnt have SK. This grinded my gears and I had a discussion with SO about how unfair it is to expect me to be completely responsible for SK when I am not his parent. That resulted in SO's mother taking SK for one weekend a month and SO apologizing and saying he won't do that anymore. Now, maybe I should have been more clear, but SO took this to mean that he could work these weekends, but no OT. That is not what I meant. I meant for SO to not work when he has SK. It came to a big head when just 2 weeks after we had our initial discussion, SO texts me from work telling me he not only had signed up for the weekend, but asked for an additional 12 HOURS that weekend since it would be extra pay for working on a holiday without talking to me on a SO custody weekend. He had the audacity to tell me "dont be mad." I lost it. I told him that this behavior was disrespectful to me and a huge slap in the face given the conversation we practically just had a fortnight ago. He apologized, said he won't do it again but it wasnt good enough for me until i saw real, consistent change. I told SO he needs to get his mother to watch SK that weekend because I will not be doing it. He tried but SO's mom was out of town. I was pissed and told him if it happened again there would be a serious change in our relationship, either I move out or we split and that he will be making up for this for a long time. Things were fine for a little over a month. SO was taking off weekends he had SK like I asked and had someone watch SK if SO wanted to work. All is good. Then this weekend came. SO signed up this weekend despite SK coming over and didn't communicate with me. I was mad but kept quiet, when I shouldn't have. Today we were talking and deciding whether to go workout today since if we did we would have to rush around before SO had to leave for work. SO said something along the lines of: SO: "what do you want, then?" Me: "for you to not go to work tonight." SO: "So we can go to the gym?" Me: "Yea....among other things.." I think he knew what I meant. I could tell his tone got defensive. I know that was passive aggressive of me but tbh we had been having some rough times lately and I was so tired of being frustrated with him so it just kinda came out. I told him the same things I had been saying: not my kid so why am I expected to take care of him? I don't mind helping but I am not SK's mother or father, he has those. This did not bode well in SO's brain because even though I stayed level headed to express myself, he immediately jumped on the defensive, got loud and told me that since I am at home that it "shouldn't be too much to expect me to watch his kid." And just no. Absolutely not. I DID NOT PUSH THIS KID OUT OF ME OR BUST A NUT IN THE WRONG PLACE!! I put my foot down and I told him straight up I did not get into this relationship to be anybody's mother and if that is what he expected of me then we will not work. After A LOT of getting him to calm down🙄🙄🙄 he began to understand what I was saying(Or at least put on a damn good show of it if not). I tried my best to make him feel that I do not hate or really even dislike his son or wish him to be gone(I prefer Sk not be here but it is what it is and I try not to have SK feel that way bc it's not his fault) but I am very resentful of the amount of work I have put in and am expected to do for a child I did not have and isnt my responsibility. I also sited his lack of communicating efficiently with me about his work schedule. I said I know I get visibly irritated when SK comes over and SO decided to ask "well if I do this will your attitude towards SK change?" Which like...what bad faith question honestly. I told him "yea, most likely, with time and consistency from you." Overall, we are doing well as of right now and I feel like things are slowly changing, which is good. Not exactly how I wanted but that's reality, ya know? I love SO very much. He is an amazing partner and is the only place I have felt safe in my life. His child is just a really tender spot for us as SO does not want to be a father but feels stuck. I understand that but we have to wake up to our reality and not just push responsibilities off onto others. I hope things will continue to get better from here but I also wouldn't be surprised if this is what eventually breaks us up if we spilt ever. Apologies for the length. I've had a lot of feelings for a while and don't have anywhere to let it out but this subreddit has really helped me understand my own feelings and feel less like I'm the bad guy for how I feel.

This will function as a one-stop guide to sound deaden the 3rd generation Mazda3. I believe it will be useful for any previous or next-gen Mazda3 owner, or anyone with a CX-30, as these platforms share many components.
Like others undertaking this project, I did a ton of research on sound deadening, the process, and the products first before jumping in. I would encourage anyone pursuing the same project to read through the links I’ve included in this write-up as they should give you all the information you need to sound-deaden your car in a comprehensive, easy manner, without having to do the weeks of research I had to do.
Pre-reading:
If you haven’t already, read through this thread for background as this is a solid, comprehensive write-up.
https://www.mazda3revolution.com/threads/sound-deadening-my-17-mazda-3-bn.242072/
Materials Needed:
1. Butyl-based mat to apply first as your base layer
I used 72 square feet to do the entire car, including hood, wheel wells, full interior, rear hatch area, and all doors. I did not do the headliner.
Total cost: $200 CAD
I used 1 box of 2mm (80 mil) Kilmat, and 1 box of 2.5mm Amazon branded butyl sheets. I found the Kilmat had better adhesion and was easier to cut and work with, because of the smaller sheet sizes, so I used this for tight spaces and the doors. The Amazon stuff was great to apply to large areas such as the floor of the vehicle, because I would just stick one entire sheet down and be done with it. It’s also slightly cheaper than the Kilmat.
Other brands: Silless, which manufactures the closed cell foam, also makes this stuff for a reasonable price.

2. Closed cell foam as the second layer
I used 100 square feet.
Total cost: $200
I did a LOT of research and shopping around to find the best balance between price, value, and performance of closed cell foam. I ultimately landed on using Siless Liner 157mil (4mm) closed cell foam which I found on Amazon. Noico is also another brand that makes this stuff for slightly more cost. These come in boxes of 51 square feet for about $100. I thus bought two boxes of the stuff. I did end up with leftover product, which I have saved as it can be used to stick on anything else that causes noise such as a furnace, washing machine, etc along with the leftover butyl mat.

3. Rubber-based floor underlay as the final layer
I used a 100 square foot roll of Technoflex Underlayment Acoustic Membrane, 2mm thickness.
Total cost: $85
Product link: https://www.rona.ca/en/product/technofloor-technoflex-underlayment-acoustic-membrane-thermal-insulation-4-ft-x-25-ft-x-008-in-100-sqft-rubber-material-black-m2000-100-73015020
Alternate link: https://technoflexintl.com/en/product/technofloor-acoutstic
Other products I considered, but chose against as the Technoflex is thicker

• https://www.rona.ca/en/product/mono-serra-zito-200-ft2-15-mm-blue-high-density-foam-underlayment-for-vinyl-floors-fm-906-84666069
• https://www.rona.ca/en/product/selitbloc-griptec-subfloor-underlay-pressure-resistent-foam-48-in-w-x-25-ft-l-100-sqft-15-mm-thickness-blue-gold-a64305-05075003

In Canada, you cannot find mass loaded vinyl. My goal was to find something relatively cheap and functional. I went to underlay because it’s sold in bulk and there are many products out there to compare effectiveness. Flooring underlay also has specific requirements in order to carry a particular sound deadening rating. It’s also rubber-based, like vinyl, so I figured I would just double up on layering as I had enough product to do so. I did end up doubling up the layering in most places and had leftover product.
Please note, this product is not adhesive. You lay it down like a blanket and you need to cut it to fit in tight spaces. Thus, I did not use it in vertical areas like the doors. I only used it on the floor and trunk of the vehicle. I am not technically inclined enough to adhere or screw it on the doors, but there are other people in the links on this thread who have done so, so depending on your skill level it is certainly possible.

All Tools Required

1. Socket set with 10mm socket and a Phillips screwdriver. I purchased a full socket set because I did not have one and found one on sale.
2. E-torx socket size 12 to remove the front seats. I just purchased a set of 8 for $20
3. Trim removal tool and plastic clip replacements, approx. $20. Extremely useful!!
   • https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B01N9AL149?psc=1&ref=ppx_yo2ov_dt_b_product_details
   • The metal trim removal tool is worth its weight in gold. Trust me, there are a LOT of plastic trim pieces to remove, and this tool makes them very easy to remove properly without breaking anything. All cars nowadays use plastic trim, so it’s a worthwhile purchase if you’re ever going to do work on any future car as well.
   • I purchased the set above because it came with a whole array of trim removal tools as well as a huge variety of replacement plastic trim pieces. I ended up using a couple pieces that broke when I did the doors. The kit has everything you may need for most vehicles, including our Mazdas.
4. Rubber roller, $12. Useful for rolling down the butyl mat and closed cell foam.
   • https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B01N9AL149?psc=1&ref=ppx_yo2ov_dt_b_product_details
5. Do yourself a favor and get some gloves. I used my bare hands for about 50% of the time, and they were sore, and had little nicks and cuts all over them by the time I was done. Much easier with gloves.

Skill Level
I have a general interest in cars but the most technical work I’ve ever done are oil changes and tire swaps. This was the largest and most technical project I ever embarked on. I work an office job, so I don’t even work with my hands a lot. If I can do it, so can you (as long as you set aside the time and have the proper tools).

Results
I did not take before-after videos, as that has been captured by videos on Youtube as well as people who have measured the noise levels in the threads below. All I can tell you is that this does work. In my opinion, the project even for a newb like me is totally worth it. For less than $500, and a couple days of work, you can make your Mazda feel like an entirely different vehicle.

Now, sounds and vibrations are barely transmitted going over rough roads. The car feels so much more planted and stable when going over bumps. The audio system sounds better. The doors close with a rich-sounding ‘thunk’. By far the biggest improvement is getting a whole new level of isolation within the car, which makes long trips so much more tolerable and the daily commute so much more relaxing. I would 100% do this again.

The project
Okay, let’s get to the project itself! I’ve broken up each area of the car into separate sections. As the write-ups below are fairly comprehensive, there is no need for me to reinvent the wheel.

Doors
This link contains pictures and instructions, very clearly detailed, on how to do the doors. I did the rear doors first to get used to working with all the materials, then the trunk, then the interior of the car. I would suggest following these instructions.
https://imgur.com/a/2018-mazda-3-sound-deadener-install-vE1o9Hi
Before taking apart your doors, also read through this thread as it contains some more details and information that you will find useful.
https://www.mazda3revolution.com/threads/sound-deadening.126105/?post_id=1624345&nested_view=1&sortby=oldest#post-1624345
This thread is also good to read as it is very detailed. It is for the previous generation, but the door design has not changed that much compared to our generation.
https://www.mazda3revolution.com/threads/cheaply-and-effectively-sound-deadening-your-2010-2013-mazda3.111385/

Wheel arches
Use these links and instructions for the wheel arches
https://www.mazda3revolution.com/threads/sound-deadening.126105/page-2
As well as the Imgur gallery from the Doors section for some more pictures.

Trunk
This is the easiest part of the whole project. If you’ve read the threads above, you don’t need any help with this. I did not do the hatch door. I do not think that is worth it, because if your trunk area is well insulated and you have your rear seat up, there’s not a lot of noise that’s going to get through the hatch door.

Interior
This is the part of the project that I had to figure out on my own, so I want to give several tips that will make it easier if you’re doing this.

~1. Removing the interior carpet:~
First vacuum the carpet.
You don't need to remove the entire console to get access to the majority of the floor. To remove the interior carpet, first remove the rear seat, then the front seats, then the interior plastic trim, and finally there are some pieces of Styrofoam in the front wheel wells. You can pull up the carpet for the left side of the vehicle as you work on that side, then tack it all down, and repeat for the right side of the vehicle.

~2. Removing the front seats~
First, disconnect the battery using the 10mm socket. This is recommended by the manufacturer to prevent accidental discharge of the air bags.
If you have the E-torx size 12 socket, removing the seat bolts is a breeze. I zipped them right off. Undo the back bolts, then slide the seat to its rearmost position, then remove the front bolts. Roll the seat onto it’s back to access the harness, undo the harness, then remove the front seat either from the front or rear door. It doesn’t matter.
Go to this site and download the PDF that Anchorman posted. That is all you need to know to remove the front harness. It took me HOURS of searching the web to find a resource this good – there aren’t even any good videos demonstrating what the PDF shows. https://www.cx3forum.com/threads/drivers-seat-removal.17234/
This was both the easiest and hardest thing about the project. Where I got stuck was removing the wiring harness from underneath the seat. Don’t be like me and stick a screwdriver in there, because that can damage the plastic. Instead, simply lift the white tab, press the tab underneath, and the harness comes off nice and easy. The link above with the PDF by Anchorman is what I WISHED I had at the start. I hope this will make it much easier for you.
Don’t be worried about the airbag going off etc. Using the diagram in the PDF, it’s just 1 harness and it comes off super easy and clips back in super easy too. It’s idiot-proof. You won’t have any trouble.

~3. Remove the interior plastic trim~
Again, watch this video https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Aat4kUanm9w to see how to remove the trim and in what order. It’s actually quite easy and easy to reinstall as well. Just remember that the front and rear passenger scuff plates go on last. The other interior trim, does not matter what order you reinstall it.
Another tip, when removing the furthermost front inside trim (i.e the fusebox cover) and its equivalent on the front passenger side, there is a plastic nut securing that trim in place at the very front of it. It’s hard to see in there. Simply reach your hand in there, find the nut, and lefty-loosen it all the way until it comes off. Easy peasy!

~4. Remove the carpet~
You can pull up the carpet one side at a time. I recommend starting with the left side. In one area only, I cut through my carpet in order to remove it on the rear passenger areas, where it is affixed underneath the front seatbelt holder. This is not a problem. It was just easier this way, and because that area gets covered up by plastic trim, it doesn’t matter if you cut through it to make your life easier.
Once the carpet is lifted up, vacuum underneath it to ensure you have a clean surface that your butyl will adhere to.

~5. Do the driver’s side first!~
The front left side of the vehicle floor is the hardest to do because you have to contend with the footrest, reaching underneath the steering wheel, and the gas pedal. I removed the accelerator pedal – it is just held in place by two 10mm nuts, and then an electrical harness that easily clips off. Remove it and set it aside. Then, lift the carpet and remove the Styrofoam. Use a needlenose plyer to help unclip the plastic portion holding the Styrofoam in place. I did not end up reinstalling that plastic piece, as I installed sound deadener where it would have plugged into the floor. No harm.
I suggest doing the driver’s side first because once you’re done that front left area, the rest of the car is super easy. So do this while you’re fresh. Try to cover as much as you can in the front wheel wells, because that is a significant area of incoming road noise. Be systematic about cutting the butyl and closed cell foam in the correct sizes here, as you will have to reinstall the gas pedal, the Styrofoam, and the carpet properly. The good news is that it’s all easy to reinstall. I didn’t have any trouble.
Once you’re done with the driver’s compartment, systemically work your way with large butyl sheets and closed cell foam through the rest of the car floor. There is no need to apply this stuff up where the plastic trim will be reinstalled, on the inside lateral frame of the car – if you do so, it might be more difficult to reinstall the carpet and the plastic trim. Just do the flat bottom floor only, and you can hold the carpet up to access up along the centre console as well. (Keep in mind this is written for someone with my skill level – i.e newb. If you are more advanced and know what you’re doing, then go ahead and put some butyl or CCM in the inside lateral area, the area otherwise covered up with plastic trim).
I did not go for 100% coverage. To do that would take a lot longer. I went for about 90% coverage with the butyl and closed cell foam, and the rubber Technoflex layers covered up pretty well 95% of the area.
When you are laying the material down, ensure not to cover the holes for the seat bolts. If you do by accident, no worries – just use a screwdriver to poke through them, and you can easily still thread the bolt through when you go to reinstall your front seats.
Repeat the same steps on the right side of the vehicle.

~6. Reinstall the plastic trim.~
First reinstall the carpet and ensure all the holes line up. Reinsert the plastic clips into the holes to hold the carpet in place. Then, reinstall the frontmost trim piece, ensuring it clicks into place, and finally screw the plastic nut on. You may need to lift the rubber insert around the door to replace the plastic trim properly – the rubber insert comes off and goes on very easily, it is very forgiving to work with.
Then, install the B pillar trim piece. Then, the inside rear trim piece. Finally, the scuff plates, front and rear.

~7. Reinstall the front seats.~
~8. Reinstall the rear cushion.~
~9. Plug in the battery again.~
You’re done! Go for a rest drive and let the results speak for themselves!

Final thoughts
I did not take pictures because I was too busy installing the stuff and there are plenty of pictures available on the various threads.
I did reach out to many people on the forum and on Reddit who have done this project and from everything that I’ve learned, I believe this should be all you need to know to do this project successfully.
It will take several days so set some time aside. Here are some rough estimates:

• Trunk: 2 hours
• Each door: 2-3 hours (first door will take longer, then each door after gets shorter and shorter)
• Wheel wells: 2 hours
• Inside Hood: 1 hour
• Interior: 9 hours. Set aside a full day for this. You will want to take breaks in between steps. It took me from 10am to 8pm.

Bought a trailer home. ('87 Connor Industries 65 foot long, if it matters)
Price was right and only really needs a few pieces of work. The rest is purely cosmetic. Has the original AC/Electric heat, so that on my list for a heat pump upgrade.
The other major thing reported was the polypropylene lines which the home inspector strongly encouraged replacement considering the age and due to their propensity to degrade inside out and fail spectacularly. Additionally in the inspection report it indicates pressure drops when multiple fixtures are on. I got a good look at the supply outside the skirt today cleaning out the AC. It has a large supply, but when it goes under the skirt the supply is a narrower bore, I can't guess as to size, but it would certainly explain why my shower is weak while the washer is filling. As it's only me here I can work around it for now.
What kind of difficulty would I face trying to DIY a PEX overhaul on this trailer home? The polyprop lines just come straight up through the floor and are crimped onto the shutoff valves. I haven't actually gone under the skirting yet...(I'm a big bear and the access hatch is twink sized)
I suspect there's a moisture barrier and insulation layer hiding the water, and ducting?
Additionally the (electric) water heater needs to be replaced. I tried to do a draining shortly after moving in but turning the drain valve 1/8th of a turn resulted in water coming out of the shutoff. Closing it killed the leak. It was installed '99, has inspection dates for '99, '00, and '01, nothing else. Hot water runs out too quickly even for a stubby tank, so I suspect it has plenty of buildup.
Thank you for whatever insights you might have for this idiot.

I first started noticing that something was wrong around 3 months ago. At the time, I was working from home and would usually light a scented candle while I worked, which usually helped me relax and stay focused on my work. I would usually burn through a candle a week, but over time, the candles started to take less time to fully burn up. At first, I thought that this was because of a change in ingredients the company that made the candles used, but the problem persisted after I switched candle brands, which I once again blamed on the candle manufacturers.
I kept this belief for another week until the first incident. While getting up from my computer desk, which faces away from the candle, to take a quick bathroom break, I caught a glimpse of the lit candle. A two-inch layer of molten wax rested on another three-inch layer of solid wax, the wicks rising out at first and being somewhat visible through the molten layer, finally breaking the surface and being slowly burned away. The flames flickered as I swung the door open and walked out of the room. When I returned 10 minutes later, the molten layer was gone, and the wicks had been shortened so that the flames rested right above the solid layer of the wax. At first, I thought that the glass jar that contained the candle was leaking, but after a short inspection, I was only able to find two small drops of candle wax that had solidified right next to the candle on the bedside table. I still had 2 hours of work left to do, but I was too lost in thought and was unable to do any work for the rest of the day.
Every night before I go to sleep, I like to read for at least 30 minutes, and while reading, I usually light a candle. Around 4 days later, I had mostly forgotten about the incident and went back to using candles. Due to my naivety, it returned.
I fell asleep while reading with a candle lit on my bedside table. I woke up to loud slurping noises. As I opened my eyes, the brightness of the light I had not turned off almost blinded me. As my eyes tried to readjust to the light and focus on what was in front of me, I saw a somewhat humanoid dark gray to light blue blur that contrasted with the white paint on the walls behind it. Another gray line stretched from the shape's head to the candle on my bedside table. I could feel my heart skip five consecutive beats. I opened my mouth and tried to force out a scream for help, but the pressure I applied to my throat was way beyond what it was able to handle, leading me to only produce a light wheezing sound. I tried to sit up or to at least prop myself up, but my muscles failed me. Trying to push myself up with my arms felt impossible. As I stared at the figure that had suddenly appeared in my room, my eyes finally managed to focus, making it possible for me to see the intruder who was now staring at me. The figure was a man at least 7 feet tall, fully naked; he looked bloated; his eyes were bloodshot and looked like they would pop out of their sockets; at any point, his skin was a grayish light blue.
HIS LIPS
His lips extended from his mouth like an elephant's trunk, which had been split in half. The lips extended from the man's face to the candle; the flames had been put out. He was using his lips as a makeshift straw, slowly sucking up all the molten wax from the candle, which had fully liquified while I was asleep. I laid in bed, unable to move, unable to scream for help, staring until he emptied the jar. His lips retracted back to his face, the molten wax solidifying on their tips and cracking, flakes of wax falling off the man's lips and falling to the floor. The man grinned, staring at me. The ridges and gaps between the teeth were filled in with wax, making it impossible to make out where one tooth ended and the next one began. The man opened the door he was standing next to, but instead of walking out of the room, he stepped behind it. His face peered at me from above the door, and then once again, like he had done to drink the wax, the man puckered his lips, which stretched from his mouth and floated to me. I shook and tried to roll over away from him. I wanted to get up and run, but my fear had taken over my body. Tears flowed from my eyes. He kissed me on the cheek, leaving flakes of wax and light moisture. He retracted his lips and lowered his head behind the door.
I don't remember falling asleep, but when I woke up, I saw the empty glass jar, which at one point contained the candle. Even though I had hoped that what had happened was a dream, it wasn't. I still had flakes of wax on my cheek, and on my bedroom floor, the wax in the jar had disappeared. I called the police, but they were unable to find anyone in my apartment; they also could not find any evidence of a break-in.
After the break-in, I started looking for a new apartment to move to, thinking that the man was tied to the building I was in, but even though I had thrown out all of my candles, I could not stomach spending another hour in my apartment, constantly looking over my shoulder or walking around with my back pressed up against the wall to not allow it to creep up on me. Thankfully, my friend Emma was able to let me stay over at her apartment while I looked for a new one for myself.
Me and Emma have been friends since we were 8, and we've been there to support each other when times get rough. This isn’t the first time I've had to stay over at her house for an extended amount of time; in fact, I have had to stay over at Emma’s as many times as she has had to stay over at my apartment, whether it was because of evictions after losing a job, breakups, or a candle wax drinking squatter. I didn't even know if it was human. I mean, sure, it looked like one, but human lips are not supposed to do what his did, and somehow it didn't have a reaction to molten wax being poured down its esophagus. I didn't tell Emma about what happened—the details at least—I just told her that a man had broken into my house and was watching me sleep. The only people I told the truth to were my therapist and the cops, and all of them disregarded what I told them as my mind making things up after a traumatic event.
For a while, I believed what they said—I mean, why wouldn’t I?—but then I started seeing him again. For a few days, I thought it was my mind playing tricks on me again like it had done during the night of the incident. For split seconds out of the corner of my eye, I would see the outline of a tall, bloated figure. At first, they were hours apart, but after a while, it became constant. He was standing in each room I passed, in every single dark corner I glanced past, and then he spoke.
“FeeD MeEeee”
It stood in the kitchen, peering over from a small gap between the fridge and the sink, where the trash can that had been knocked over onto its side usually stood. His voice was raspy, and every word that came out of his mouth was distorted as if he were gargling water, but still, I could somehow clearly make out each word he said from over 15 feet away.
“Please just leave me alone I… why are you following me?”
I shouted at the figure, the same fear that had taken over my body during the night I saw him for the first time paralyzing me, making it impossible for me to move anything other than my eyes, eyelids, and mouth.
“i’M sTarviNg, I nEEd You To FeEd ME”
It replied again. Now, stepping out from behind the fridge, he stepped directly onto a rotten banana. Its mushy brown content’s seeping out of the peel under the pressure of his decomposing foot, which was covered in scabs, and took up the same grayish light blue color as the rest of his body. He mostly looked the same; his bloodshot eyes bulged from their sockets, but now his tongue was swollen. It peeked out from between his bloated, cracked gray lips; it stared at me, waiting for an answer.
“Ok, I’ll.. I’ll feed you, but please just... leave me alone.”
I replied, the tone of my voice shifting into high-pitched squeals with every quick breath I took. He looked satisfied by my response. He somehow squeezed his bloated body back into the gap that was at least four times smaller than him. After peering over at me from above the fridge, he bent over backwards, his spine releasing a series of sickening cracks until he was fully obscured by the fridge, and then he vanished.
Still barely in control of my body, I limped over to the couch tucked away in the back corner of the living room, it took me at least 10 minutes to steady my breathing and 20 more to fully regain control of my body again but as soon as I did I ran out the house and to the nearest store, during the 15-minute walk he stared at me through dark windows and the backs of cars, peered out at me from gaps between leaves in the trees and bushes, he even followed me into the store staring at me from the middle of deserted isles before disappearing right before my eyes were able to fully catch him, once I finally got the candles I randomly picked four off of the shelves and rushed to the self checkout.
When I arrived home, I had 2 hours before Emma got off work. I didn't want to feed it while she was home, and I didn't want her to see it. I pulled out two of the candles from the black plastic bag and placed them on the kitchen table, the first a light blue candle named “Garden Rain” and the second a red candle named “Juicy Watermelon." I pulled out a lighter from one of the drawers Emma used after her stove stopped lighting on its own and lit each of the 6 wicks on the candles. As soon as I started seeing the wax melt under the heat of the burning wicks, I dropped the lighter onto the table next to the candles and ran out of the room. I could not stomach seeing that thing again; even just thinking about it made me shudder and hyperventilate. The paralyzing fear that seeing him caused me made me want to vomit.
At least 30 minutes later I started to hear it drink even though the living room and kitchen were separated by a wall, even though I had closed the door I could still hear what at first started as slurping sounds which were followed up by loud gulps, then it stopped, and once again 30 minutes later it started drinking, as the slurping started once again I heard the door to the apartment crack open, it was Emma, as she stepped through the door I saw her carrying two large brown paper bags of groceries in her hands, she was headed to the kitchen.
“Hey let me grab those for you”
I said running over to her, my voice shaking.
“Oh, thanks. Are you… okay, you look scared?”
My eyes shot wide open in a mixture of fear and surprise. I said the first thing that came to mind.
“Yeah just umm… I didn't expect you to come home so early and I got a bit spooked”
“shit sorry, I know I should have called you, work let me off early today,”
I started to turn away from her walking to the kitchen.
Trying to keep her away from the kitchen I told her to wait for me in the living room because I wanted to talk to her about something. I didn't know what I would talk to her about but that was a problem for future me to resolve, somehow it worked.
“What's that sound?”
She called out to me while walking towards the living room couch. It took me a few seconds to come up with an excuse.
“I think it’s the sink, or the pipes at least”
I opened the door to the kitchen with my eyes closed at first hesitant to look knowing what would be greeting me. slowly prying my eyes open I started to see its outline, my muscles started to lose strength as the details of the man came into my view, I felt the grocery bags start to slip from my arms, my knees buckled, face first I fell onto the kitchen floor scattering the groceries all over the floor, I mixture of a light scream and a yelp escaped from my mouth as my body made contact with the floor, Emma concerned for my safety ran into the kitchen, she didn't scream, using all of the strength and mobility I had left in my muscles I rolled over expecting to see her face drenched in terror, her body frozen still unable to move just like my body had done the first time that I saw him, but Emma looked concerned, the man was gone, she crouched down beside me.
“Oh my god are you ok? What happened?”
I looked around observing my surroundings.
“I um… I… I tripped on the little thing at the bottom of the doorframe”
I finally managed to blurt out another excuse, not being able to remember what the name of a door sill was. I started to sit up using a part of the energy that had returned to my body, pain pulsed through my chest and arms, Emma looked at me with a concerned face.
“You've been acting really weird since I got home, are you sure you're ok?”
“Yeah… I think I’m just having one of those days you know”
The confusion on Emma’s face said that she didn’t know and to be honest I didn't either, I guess my luck of pulling random excuses out of my ass ran out, Emma thought that she triggered some sort of PTSD response after barging into the house unannounced at first apologizing then trying to change the subject to stop my trembling which I was still unsuccessfully trying to hide from her.
“Did you buy candles?”
Emma asked picking the groceries apart from the garbage that spilled out the can that the man had knocked over, placing them on the table next to the now half-empty glass jars, the flames flickered above the inch or so of molten wax the man was unable to finish drinking.
“Yeah I’ve been struggling with work lately, they usually help me focus”
“Huh Interesting combination you’ve got going on here”
She looked at me and smiled slightly, I smiled back and chuckled to seem normal.
“Yeah even I don't know what I was trying to accomplish here, to be honest”
I tried to help Emma clean up the spilled groceries but she did not let me, she told me that I needed to recover like I had been in a car crash instead of having taken a little tumble. After a few seconds of silence, Emma spoke again.
“Anyway, what did you want to talk to me about earlier?”
A quick jolt of stress shot through my body, in a jumbled mess of lies and fear I had forgotten what I had told Emma, I sat there in silence for a few seconds unable to come up with an excuse
“I…umm… I don’t remember, it wasn't anything serious though”
“Damn did you hit your head too?”
She said once again proudly smiling at her joke.
At this point Emma picked up the last bag of potato chips from the floor and placed it on the table, then she opened the fridge and started loading the groceries into it.
“Anyway I gotta go get back to work’’
I blurted out after a few more seconds of awkward silence.
“Alright well good luck”
I walked over into the living room and sat down in front of my workstation, which now consisted of a laptop sitting on a small foldable TV tray that had just barely enough room left on it to fit a small USB mouse.
The last thing I remember, before I fell asleep, was me mindlessly scrolling through apartment listings while Emma watched a random 90’s horror movie I’m positive only had a budget of $500.
I woke up with a light stinging pain shooting through my dry throat, and a dim hissing sound caused by thousands of water drops striking the ground outside filled the room. I pressed the spacebar on my laptop, the brightness of the screen blinding me temporarily, after taking a few seconds to let my eyes readjust I managed to make out the time, 3:45 AM. A strong smell I was unable to make out the origin of assaulted my nostrils. Lavender.
The smell hitting my nose had the same effect on me that I would expect smelling salts would have on a weightlifter right before they set a world record. Before I knew it my legs were moving on their own at an almost uncontrollable pace, fighting back against my mind which was telling them to slow down after years of being used to navigating both mine and Emma’s apartment as steadily as possible to not bother the neighbors.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity I stood before Emma’s bedroom door, a faint, yellow, pulsating light radiated from a lamp and snuck out of a small gap between the door and the doorframe, reluctantly I pushed my left hand up against the door, my right hand grasping onto the door frame for a sense of stability, once the door was fully agape I scanned the inside of the room my heart skipping a beat for every humanoid shadow cast up onto the wall by the lights from the wicks which were set ablaze and were being slowly burnt away.
I walked into Emma’s room and made my way over to her bedside table to put out the candle, as I stepped closer towards her, her face became more defined, I could finally make out her features, she was awake, but no she could not have been, even though her eyes were wide open they never blinked, she didn't even move slightly, as I moved closer I finally managed to fully make out the expression of pure terror on her face, her mouth wide agape as if she was about to release a deafening screach, but she could not have, a single drop of solidified wax dribbled out of the corner of her mouth and clung to her cheek, my eyes traced the cream colored path back towards her mouth, first up her cheek then between the corner of her mouth and finally behind her teeth, there instead of her tongue or the roof of her mouth I saw a wall of wax which had filled in the entirety of her mouth.
I fell to my knees and hunched forward supporting my body weight with my arms, I was too late, I resisted the urge to vomit and got back up onto my feet, a mixture of tears and snot slid down my face and onto my lips, shaking now I slowly started limping over towards my phone which I had left on the couch next to where I had awoken just minutes before, just minutes before my life was destroyed because of my lies if I had just told Emma what I had gone through, if I had just told her what had happened on the night of the incident which now seemed trivial, even if she thought that I was crazy, I know that she would have complied just to make me feel comfortable.
It took me at least 30 seconds of repeated attempts to stabilize my hands enough to properly dial 911. “Someone broke into my apartment and hurt my friend” was the only reasonable explanation I could come up with that would not get the operator to hang up on me thinking that this was a prank call.
I sat there in the living room for an agonizing 10 minutes, crying, my sadness slowly transformed into anger towards myself, and my mind raced thinking of all the lies I’d told, I kept thinking that if I had just told her the truth she would not have been laying there in her bed, her body bloated, “every single orifice has signs of forced penetration and has been filled with what seems to be candle wax” is what was written on her autopsy report.
For a few days I was the main suspect in Emma’s murder, but due to the almost unstoppable crying and the unresponsive state that I was in when the police arrived, mixed with the lack of evidence of me having a way to produce 30 pounds of candle wax led to me being released out of police custody, but because I was the main suspect I was not told any details about what had fully happened to Emma, for days all I had to work off of was the image of her face frozen in terror, and a short glance I caught of her bloated body as she was being carted out on a stretcher.
I recounted every single word of our last conversations over and over again until they became permanently etched into my brain.
Emma’s parents originally wanted to cremate her, as that is what she had somewhat jokingly asked for whenever the topic of funerals came up, well she had joked about wanting to have had unpopped popcorn shoved down her throat before she was sent off to “scare the shit out of the guy cremating me” but due to all the wax which would have been impossible to get out of her body they were forced to bury her.
A few days before Emma’s funeral her body disappeared.
After Emma’s death, her parents took me into their home, after reading the autopsy reports and seeing her corpse they had thrown out every single candle they owned which made their home the safest choice I had, still, this did not stop me from buying a machete and keeping it under my bed, just in case.
I was laying on the bed in their guest bedroom The day that the police informed Emma’s parents about her disappearance, the bedroom is right above the front porch of the house, at first I heard them ring the doorbell which was followed up by 3 powerful knocks on the door, for about a minute I laid there on the bed listening to muffled voices exchanging distorted words I was barely able to make out which slowly transformed into distorted weeps, curious I lifted myself up from the bed, made my way over to the window and carefully lifted the bottom panel making Shure to not make too much noise, the distorted muffled sounds started forming into coherent words “We checked the security footage but the only strange thing we could see was a 5 second time jump” one of the officers spoke in a serious and almost monotone voice “which meant that the security guard who was the only person in the building had to climb down 2 flights of stairs walk through a 40 foot long hallway and then drag her body back up stairs and out of the building in 5 seconds” Emma’s mom let out yelp “ but don’t worry ma'am that’s actually good news because we know that her corpse is still somewhere within the building and was probably brought to the wrong floor by an intern, we’ve already warned all of the staff at the hospital to keep an eye out, and we also sent 5 officers to search the hospital”
I could not believe what I was hearing, my breathing quickened, but this time instead of fear I felt anger, that fucker stole her corpse and was probably in the weird separate plane of existence he always went back to after terrorizing me, cutting off chunks of her body, melting her, and drinking her.
I closed the window Emma’s mom's cries once again turned into a muffled rumble which was only possible to make out if you knew what to look for, I took a few steps back away from the window planning to lay back down, not wanting to bother Emma’s parents. I bumped into something, not something, someone, its fleshy towering form as solid as a wall sent me tumbling forward, I knew it was him, he had returned to take me too, to stretch his swollen cracked lips, push them down my esophagus, fill my lungs and stomach with wax. But despite all of that this time I was not scared, I was angry, and I was not going to stand there in terror like I had the last time I saw him.
I fell forward onto my knees my face missing the window sill just by mere inches, I put my hands onto the floor, lifted one of my knees, and rotated 180 degrees now facing the monster, to the right of him pushed up against the wall was the bed, light from the sun reflected off of the metallic button which kept my machete in it’s sheathe, the man started to stretch his lips, they were moving towards me, waving a wiggling through the air like a snake slithering towards me.
I dove towards the bed one of my feet pushing off of the floor and the other pushing against the wall which creaked under the pressure applied to it, I flew for a few moments before slamming down onto the carpet and sliding forward, the heat generated by my skin brushing against the carpet released a sharp stinging pain throughout my body, my outstretched arm landed just a few inches short of the machete, I quickly bent my arms, pushing my body up and crawled towards the machete. my fingers wrapped around the handle I spun around, my back pushed up against the bedside table, once again facing the man, he was still facing the window but his lips faced me and were just a few feet away from me, for what felt like minutes but was most likely no longer than a second, I struggled to hook my finger under the strap securing the machete into its sheath, as the lips inched towards me the man started producing gurgling noises, he was regurgitation wax.
I finally pulled the machete out of its sheath, I swung the blade at the man's lips, the blade was not met with any resistance as it sliced through the man’s lips which landed on the carpeted floor with an audible thud, the man did not have a physical reaction to my counter-attack, his lips kept creeping towards me, once again I slashed at the lips, still no reaction, I repeated this at least 3 more times.
I wanted to kill him, I wanted to take revenge for what he had done to Emma, but fighting back was pointless. I realized that no matter how much I tried to hurt it, I could not kill him, I could not get rid of him.
My rage dissipated and a mixture of fear and sadness crept in, and soon took over my body, I screamed for help, I screamed in fear, in agony, tears streamed down my face as the man's lips finally reached my face, he wasn’t met with any resistance as his lips snuck between mine, pried my jaw open and finally started to slide down my esophagus.
I heard the cops run up the stairs, they started banging on the door asking if I was okay only to have been met with muffled screams, hot wax started to pour down inside of me, the stinging pain of the heat made me want to plunge the machete which I had dropped onto the ground next to me into my stomach to create a gaping wound that the wax would hopefully funnel out of, the texture of the man's slippery, oily lips matched with the poison like flavor of the wax caused me to start gagging, I felt my insides bulging like at any moment my intestines would have been filled to the point where they would pop, I wanted to vomit, the drain myself of the filth I was filled with, but his lips had plugged my throat not allowing anything to get out.
Hearing my muffled screams the cops started kicking the door down, the man retracted his lips, the suction aided my attempts at cleansing my insides, I got onto my hands and knees streams of molten wax pouring out of me, solidifying on the the carpet, with another loud thud the door swung open slamming into the wall, the man was gone.
That’s the last thing I remember before I passed out, but according to one of the doctors who was in the ambulance that brought me to the hospital, I was still semi-responsive during the first 10 minutes of the ride to the hospital.
Approximately 13.4 pounds of wax were removed from my body, the doctors said that I was in a critical condition and some of them did not expect me to make it.
One of the officers who was there the day the man attacked me took a report of what had happened to me, due to the unmistakable evidence of what had happened to both me and Emma, and the fact that this was the 3rd instance of me reporting something like this the police finally started investigating who this man might have been.
Around a month later I was discharged from the hospital and once again have been staying in the living room of Emma’s parent's house.
I’ve been seeing the man again, candles were not allowed in the hospital I stayed at, which means that he’s probably very hungry, he’s close to attacking me again, I know it, he wants to finish what he started and I don't know if I have the power to fight back, I’m not sure if defeating him is even possible, I’m tired.
I’ve been seeing Emma too, her bloated, reanimated corpse often appears to be standing next to the man. If I let him take me will I get to join them? I’ve tried asking but they don’t answer, they just stare, I can’t keep living in constant fear, always looking over my shoulder, I miss Emma.