B.m.e. pain olympics video

So this is going to be a VERY long story and I hope some of you can take time out of your day so I can get some perspective from other people as I feel some serious guilt after what happened the past 3 days.
To give some background, I was an employee at a grocery store and I became friends with a girl that I'm going to call Amy for the sake of privacy. Amy was cool and we got along great. She did mention that she had a boyfriend and it honestly didn't bother me at the time. I was just happy I made friends with a cool person at work. We would sit together in the break room and have a lot of conversations together and even add each other on sc and talk occasionally outside of work. She did kind of mention to me however that she doesn't have a lot of friends and she was trying to make an effort to be in a group of friends.
Well at the beginning of this year, she ended up quitting and I was pretty sad as she was one of the few friends I made at this job. We didn't speak again until 2 months after she quit. I have a friend group that I have known since I was in middle school and once or twice a month we get together to play video games, play board games, watch movies, etc. I decided to invite her to this friend gathering as I remembered her saying that she didn't have too many friends and I wanted to see her again. She ended up coming and it went amazing for her. She loved being around my friends, we were all laughing and having a great time. She loved all of my friends and we invited her to our discord server afterwards and she became an official member of our friend group. Afterward, I learned that the reason she quit the job was that she had a miscarriage and it destroyed her emotionally. She told me that inviting her to this friend's gathering sorta changed her life and helped her through that dark moment.
Everything seemed to be going smoothly until one day she asked to hang out with me one-on-one at my place. I agreed and she came over and we played video games and watched a few movies together. It ended up becoming super late and we decided to just sit on my couch and just chill and talk for a bit. The conversation ended up starting to get very personal/sexual and there seemed to be an awkward tension happening in that moment. She then tells me that she's actually “Poly” and is into open relationships. Hearing this, I realized that I sorta had feelings for this girl and I made a very risky move by asking her if she wanted to be together in an open relationship in a FWB way. She talked to her BF the very next day and he agreed to let her be with me in an open relationship and that's when it all started.
The first 2 months of our relationship went great. She was seeing me once a week and we were trying to make our relationship work. We started talking about our personal lives a lot more and it seemed like this relationship was going to work. All of the friend group knew about our relationship and she was still active in our discord server and everything seemed to be going well. The relationship started to get kind of serious and we both said that we loved each other. We started discussing having kids potentially in the future and trying to make this open relationship work somehow as it seemed like we both had serious feelings with each other despite her technically having a BF. I stopped viewing this as a FWB and believed that she was the girl I was going to spend the rest of my life with.
However, things started to go a little downhill in the third month of our relationship. I started to notice that she wasn't as talkative and enthusiastic about our relationship as she once was. She started to reply a lot slower to my texts and we started to get into fights. We ended up getting into a MASSIVE fight about a week ago. Long story short I tried to talk to her about our relationship and was kind of wondering why she was acting the way she was. She EXPLODED on me and started yelling at me and saying I was being so annoying by asking her constantly about our relationship. I tried to be as calm as possible as I didn't understand why she was acting this way. I said something along the lines of “If we are a couple I feel like we should talk this out as I care about you” She then said something along the lines of “we aren't a couple, we are just a FWB”. I was heartbroken when she said this after she told me that she loved me and wanted to have a family with me. It was way too overwhelming for me to handle so I decided a few days after the fight that I would break it off with her.
I sent her a text that said that we should stop being in a relationship and just remain friends. Initially, she agreed but I kind of realized as I kept snapping her and texting her I felt heartbroken and I didn't wanna talk to this girl anymore. So I ended up texting her that I don't think we should see each other anymore as it's way too painful for me. I implied that I don't want her around the friend group anymore as it's going to make me feel terrible and fuck with me mentally. She then insisted that she should stay because she was technically part of the group now and that this relationship should have nothing to do with the friends she made. I then later talked to my friend group and they all agreed that she should be exiled and that my mental health is much more important. We ended up banning her from the Discord server and cutting all contact with her.
Well, I feel horrible now. I understand I was heartbroken and still am but I feel like it was a mistake to kick her out when she told me how much of an impact this friend group had on her, especially through her miscarriage. My friend group is all on my side and thinks I did the right thing by kicking her out of the group but I want to hear other people's perspectives. and their advice

I was looking through groups I missed and one group was Xing. I knew Kevin from u-kiss and junhyung from highlight. I was watching their music video for their song My Girl and I was surprised by how many baritones were in this group when their whole concept and song was a flower boy image.
I then started to think of older groups and remembered hearing The Boss sing Noel's song Proposal and then thinking back to Hwanhee of Fly to the Sky.
They all sound so beautiful and allows them to form powerful harmonies.
It's interesting seeing a group like Xing and then seeing Junhyung be a rappeproducer for highlight. I doubt the other baritones of Xing had much of a kpop career afterwords simply because the trend of Kpop idol music was changing.
I watched a few clips of idol survival reality shows like produce 101 and it was painful seeing the boys having to sing outside of their range and seeing them feel bad about their voices when they are beautiful in their own way.
There are a few baritones in Kpop now but I hope one day baritones and bass singers will be supported by the trainee and idol system. There's a video on YouTube where NSYNC explains their 5 part harmonies, perhaps if baritones and bass singers are supported we may hear harmonies like that in Kpop more often.

I need to vent. It has become too much. In the past four months I have been harassed by hundreds of people about wearing a mask. I’ve been called a pu, re*, sheep, beta, idiot, brainwashed, loser all within the past 24 hours. Every day, every hour, someone is leaving a hateful comment on YouTube or Instagram about me wearing a mask. I do not make any political statements or try to draw any attention to it, yet the center of attention is always on the face mask I’m wearing. I am recording Casino content, which puts me in environments where I am surrounded by people smoking, coughing and entering my personal space. When I get sick, I become confused, fatigued, and experience blurry vision. I sleep away entire days and sometimes weeks from how tired I get. I truly am trying to avoid respiratory viruses because it seems like almost anything can knock me out of partaking in life. I felt confident I was doing the right thing by attempting to protect myself by wearing a mask. These awful people have me so convinced I’m in the wrong that I don’t want to go out in public or even make videos anymore.
I started the channel over a year ago prior to having MS, but since the diagnoses I don’t feel safe to go out without a mask. It made me happy to connect with millions of people, but now, I don’t know anymore. Out at the store, out grabbing coffee, I can just tell based on how people look at me and speak to me I’m being judged. I’ll go out sometimes to the same places without it on and I get treated nicely and feel welcomed.
Am I wrong to wear a mask? Do I need to explain to these people why I wear it? I’m asked all the time, but I stopped responding, because it usually posed as an invite for others to deliver more hateful things about me wearing a mask. I feel like my mental health is crumbling. I am usually able to take these comments without letting it get to me, but my patience lately has been used up by all the pain I’m in. How do I cope?

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.

I think I may be neurodivergent, I think it's very likely I have dyscalculia, and I think I may be autistic as well.
I've always had a difficult time making friends, and all of my childhood friends are neurodivergent. I do not have a hard time keeping friends, but I do not know how to start conversations with other people. I'm not very good at keeping conversations with neurotypical people going, and the only thing I've learned to do is ask questions, because if I'm asking questions, the other person is talking, which means I'm not, and that's good. I'm not uncomfortable with eye contact, but I do not know how much or how little I should be giving in a conversation, so I tend to stare at people's eyes when they are talking. I do not feel lonely easily, and enjoy being by myself a lot of the time, which may just be introvert behavior. Sometimes, people call me weird though I do not understand what I am doing wrong to be called that. I do not take offense to it. I also get called quiet, even though I enjoy being around people, and I'm not shy, I don't get that either. I listen to people all the time, especially when my friends infodump. I enjoy talking about my interests, though I have realized that many people are not actually listening to me, so I have stopped doing that as much. It hurts my feelings more to know I wasn't being listened to than to not talk about what I wanted to talk about.
I have a difficult time navigating familiar places. My school's layout is still confusing for me, even though I've been going there for nearly 2 years. Driving is an absolute nightmare for me, and I need a GPS to drive otherwise I will get lost. I get my lefts and rights easily confused, and I get confused with my feet a lot. Dancing is really hard for me because I can never figure out what I'm doing. PE was always unpleasant for me because I hate doing group exercise and I never understood the rules of any game. I would always watch people to figure out what was going on.
Some textures and smells bother me a lot. Lavender has been an overwhelming smell for me my entire life, it gives me a headache. Most fruit's texture upset me. I hate the feeling of biting into a strawberry, and I hate how berries pop in your mouth. I also really hate food with any kind of skin to them. Berries are absolutely awful because of this, beans are also really unpleasant, and so are hotdogs. I've always been a picky eater, and was even underweight until I was about 12 because I hated most foods. Thankfully, I've gotten a lot better about it.
I find most places are too loud, and I get overwhelmed very easily. When I get very overwhelmed, I want to leave the room or cry, but I usually just sit there and plug my ears. I think I need to get ound cancelling headphones. I think the sound level in public is fine most of the time, but when I'm already stressed out, it gets much worse. Also, whenever I'm stressed, I hate the way the water touches me when I shower.
I constantly fidget, and I usually wrap my fingers around my hoodie strings, and I have twisted them to the point where they have broken and I have hurt my wrist. I continue to do this even though it has caused me pain. I have also been rolling up paper into little balls for nearly 3 years now. I fill up glass bottles full of these paper balls, and have filled over 100 glass bottles up. I love rolling up paper, and I do not enjoy ripping up the paper very much. I also own 13 3D printed sensory toys, they are all animals and I take at least 1 with me everywhere I go. I like rubbing my thumb on them a lot. Also, I love background noise and listen to music for that reason, but it needs to be quiet enough that it doesn't bother me.
I get very attached to certain topics, such as Rain World lore or Don Hertzfeldt's work. When I find something I get attached to, I try to consume all the content that I possibly can, multiple times. I have probably seen the second episode of World of Tomorrow 100 times, maybe more. Most of the YouTube content I consume are videos I've already seen. I've rewatched Markiplier's Inside playthrough many times.
Anyway, thank you for reading, and I hope you have a better than mediocre day/night.

so my dentist told me my braces would cost about $5,000, and my insurance would not cover a cent. i do not have anywhere near this amount of money, as i am 15 and dont have a job, my mother relies on her disabled veteran check, and i have a dad that refuses to get a job.
but, i'd prefer not to have crooked teeth anymore, as they make me insecure and sometimes hurt. when i was young, i was too scared to pull out a tooth in fear of pain, and i didnt let my mom tie a string around it because i had seen those videos and was terrified of them.
my adult tooth started growing with my baby tooth still in, so when i finally pulled it, it was severely crooked. now my two front teeth are horrible, with one being far back and one being far forward. i never smile or show my teeth because of it, and im embarrassed to even show my teeth to the dentist. i was wondering if there was a cheaper alternative to braces?

"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
​
Dumped my girlfriend over a joke and I can't tell anyone or I'll look like a psycho.
​
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.
​
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.
​
Update - 1.5 months later
​
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.
​
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

Just for discussion, I'm wondering if anyone has read "The Child Who Cries for the Moon", a short story by Connie Willis which appeared in a 1981 anthology by Fred Saberhagen.
If not, the entire text can be found here:
http://www.sfsfss.com/stories/Fred_Saberhagen_-_A_Spadeful_of_Spacetime.html#THE%20CHILD%20WHO%20CRIES%20FOR%20THE%20MOON
It's soft science fiction (quantum mechanics doesn't exist for starters) that deals very explicitely with topics like suicide and mental health. I first read it as a child (or early teen, not 100% sure) and I still can't read it without getting teary eyed.
It's impossible to summarise in a conventional way because it works on an emotional level, not an intellectual one, and if you try to reduce it to a sequence of events you lose its essence. For that reason I doubt it would be possible to adapt to the screen. Maybe, just maybe, a really clever filmwriter could do it by leaning heavily on techniques that convey a sense of subjectivity, but my imagination fails me.
Anyway, the story takes place in a mental hospital in the future, and the first-person protagonist is a patient with a record for repeated suicide attempts. Any therapist reading the story will want to scream at the hospital staff, who repeatedly behave in a manner unbecoming for that profession, but let's not dwell on them.
The plot revolves around three main science fiction devices. The first device is a fictional suicide drug, colloquially named silverwine, which in small doses is used to treat paranoia, but "too much of the truth can kill you, so they sell it on the streets to those of us who need it". That phrase, "too much of the truth can kill you" is a motif. The drug has other properties that are used in the story to convey a point. For example, it is painful, which is used to convey a point about self harm.
The second device is the idea that a technology enabling infinite magnification has been discovered, allowing people to literally see aliens walking around in the Andromeda galaxy, and that videos of such aliens are used for therapeutic purposes in mental hospitals. There is no worldbuilding to explain _why_ such recordings (called "Stories") are used in therapy, and the whole short story can be thought of as a thought experiment to show why it is a really bad idea.
The third device is that all the aliens are incredibly beautiful, and humans are all ugly by comparison. This parallels the protagonist's own perception of herself as ugly and unloveable, which is at the core of her struggles. But she allows herself to speculate that maybe, "somewhere in all that beautiful universe is a lady like that, distant and kind as the moon, who will look at me as you look at an oddly-shaped shell, and think, how pretty, how strange!"
For a moment, the so-called therapy gives her hope, but then she learns that the Andromeda galaxy is two million light years away and that all the aliens in the recordings are dead. This breaks her. "There is no such thing as a light year. They are heavy, heavy. They descend upon the heart with the weight of planets."
Oh my god, I am getting so teary-eyed right now just typing this, but you have to read it for yourself, it is way more powerful than I can convey here. I would love to hear people's insights into how the short story sheds light on the experiences of real people struggling with mental illness, either from the perspective of someone who been there themselves, or from a therapist.

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Dollars
1879 S MS65 DMPL Morgan (Soapbox) https://imgur.com/a/dSM7SRF (1400.00)
1879 S MS64 Morgan (Toner in a Fatty) https://imgur.com/a/Te21BkM (135.00)
Images: https://imgur.com/a/bXzRSU3
1880 S MS64 Morgan (Semi PL and Purple Toner in a Gen 1 Soapbox) https://imgur.com/a/wLZeRnc (195.00)
1881 S MS63 VAM-1A Morgan (Toner) https://imgur.com/a/Dp3GFsK (85.00)
1884 O MS67 Morgan (Crazy Mega Toner) https://imgur.com/a/R97TekR (4200.00)
1884 O MS63 DMPL Morgan (Purple Toner in a Gen 1 Soapbox) https://imgur.com/a/K8LT2xN (500.00)
1884 CC MS64 Morgan (Toner in a Soapbox) https://imgur.com/a/b9NofJA (550.00)
1884 CC MS64 Morgan (Semi PL Lust Bomb in a Soapbox) https://imgur.com/a/YyD6l6w (515.00)
1886 MS62 PL Morgan (Rattler) https://imgur.com/a/vMDnM9P (200.00)
1892 O Morgan High VF (Bright) https://imgur.com/a/ku4xPq5 (55.00)
1896 Morgan Belt Buckle https://imgur.com/a/VcyvNjP (45.00)
1896 Morgan AU (Toned) https://imgur.com/a/e7c4enc (50.00)
1896 Morgan AU (Toned) https://imgur.com/a/g01zDBo (50.00)
1896 AU Morgan https://imgur.com/a/Rc313b7 (40.00)
1898 Morgan AU (Toned) https://imgur.com/a/TzJgNcA (50.00)
1898 MS62PL Morgan (Soapbox) https://imgur.com/a/BycvAyH (150.00)
1900 Lafayette MS60 Soap Box (Toner) https://imgur.com/a/JZdDjVm (900.00)
1921 MS63 PL Morgan (Soapbox) https://imgur.com/a/eRBR2Nw (500.00)
1921 MS63 PL Morgan (Soapbox) https://imgur.com/a/VfFMADA (500.00)
1921 MS63 Peace Dollar (Fatty) https://imgur.com/a/UbYm0VG (1050.00)
1923 MS63 Peace Dollar (Gen 2 Soapbox) https://imgur.com/a/9yg4TVy (70.00)
1934 D MS62 DBL DIE OBV VAM-3 Peace Dollar (Soapbox) https://imgur.com/a/ScGb7bg (350.00)
1934 D AU58 VAM-3 DDO LG D Peace Dollar (Soapbox) https://imgur.com/a/dHDSh01 (250.00)
1972 S PR69DCAM Silver Ike https://imgur.com/a/ZvzTrmV (30.00)
1972 S PR69DCAM Silver Ike https://imgur.com/a/6L9ztbd (30.00)
1973 S PR69DCAM Silver Ike https://imgur.com/a/yqKTUSf (40.00)
1997 Proof Silver Eagle (OGP) https://imgur.com/a/kZd3qoZ (80.00)
2005 Silver Eagle First Strike MS69 https://imgur.com/a/pxRPFuS (40.00)
2005 Silver Eagle MS69 https://imgur.com/a/zxzSuSv (38.00)
2005 Silver Eagle MS69 https://imgur.com/a/GCkFghF (35.00)
Video 2: https://imgur.com/a/Yl2VsqP
2011 Silver Eagle First Strike Struck at San Francisco MS69 https://imgur.com/a/wbiDsUC (40.00)
2013 (S) Silver Eagle First Strike Struck at San Francisco MS69 https://imgur.com/a/X5IzVR9 (40.00)
2013 (S) Silver Eagle Early Releases Struck at San Francisco MS69 https://imgur.com/a/SV5Xj43 (40.00)
2021 Peace Dollar in OGP https://imgur.com/a/BlwZkB5 (205.00)
Half Dollars
1854 O G Seated Half https://imgur.com/a/5YDXLlt (30.00)
1877 G Seated Half Dollar (Cleaned) https://imgur.com/a/GiX4bzc (25.00)
1892 AG Barber Half https://imgur.com/a/AFFhmVx (35.00)
1916 S AG Walking Liberty Half https://imgur.com/a/1weOxxW (50.00)
1921 S AG Walking Liberty Half https://imgur.com/a/enXOi59 (50.00)
1936 York Half Dollar (Green CAC and Rattler) https://imgur.com/a/1BD0GBz (280.00)
1946 AU58 Half Dollar DDR (Subtle Blue and Gold Toner in a Soap Box) https://imgur.com/a/cnLo0uV (325.00)
Error Link: https://www.pcgs.com/coinfacts/coin/1946-50c-doubled-die-reverse/6632
1953 D MS64FBL Franklin (Crack on Case, so the Price is Discounted) https://imgur.com/a/ag9u9xU (40.00)
1956 PF67 Type 2 Franklin (Fatty) https://imgur.com/a/wSp88Pe (60.00)
1958 MS66 Franklin (Toner) https://imgur.com/a/xPXZujb (75.00)
1960 PR65 Franklin (Rattler) https://imgur.com/a/YNKqQ9G (40.00)
1962 PF67 Franklin (Toner in a Fatty) https://imgur.com/a/gzkvg20 (40.00)
1962 PF67 Franklin (Toner in a Fatty) https://imgur.com/a/TNSnBme (35.00)
1963 PF66 Ultra Cameo Franklin https://imgur.com/a/WNMCpYG (130.00)
2014 S PR69DCAM First Strike Limited Edition PR Set Kennedy Half https://imgur.com/a/CDL35LL (35.00)
Quarters
1871 S G Seated Quarter (Key Date!) (Counterstamped) https://imgur.com/a/yfl3y0h (425.00)
1893 S Barber Quarter VG (Gorgeous Toner) https://imgur.com/a/WcLNcJb (35.00)
Video 2: https://imgur.com/a/mr6RPW0
1905 O Barber Quarter F https://imgur.com/a/mntr7ex (48.00)
1x Face (1936, 1936, 1937 D, 1945) (Under Melt!) https://imgur.com/a/5G9pq7N (22.00)
Dimes
1837 F Dime (Bent) https://imgur.com/a/Aa5Ats5 (30.00)
1929 D MS64FB Merc (Toned) https://imgur.com/a/vK1aCx4 (175.00)
Video 2: https://imgur.com/a/VAeQgL2
1942 MS65FB Mercury Dime (OGH) https://imgur.com/a/BoyszIc (45.00)
1944 MS66 Mercury Dime (Green CAC and Fatty) https://imgur.com/a/srJTfWG (70.00)
1957 D MS66 Dime (Toner) https://imgur.com/a/Cfl2KJY (40.00)
1964 PF68 Ultra Cameo Dime https://imgur.com/a/0jkPTSz (40.00)
Anicents
Maximinus I Denarius MS ⅘, ⅘ https://imgur.com/a/5u7GLt1 (350.00)
ROMAN EMPIRE: Maximinus I, AD 235-238, AR Denarius (20mm, 3.59 gm, 12h). NGC MS 4/5 - 4/5. Rome, ca. January AD 236-April AD 238. MAXIMINVS PIVS AVG GERM, laureate, draped, cuirassed bust of Maximinus I right / FIDES M-I-LITVM, Fides standing facing, head left, with standard in each hand, one on each side. RIC IV.II 18A.
Shipping for coins (non-coins vary) is 5 Dollars for 12 ounces total weight or less, 8 dollars for over 12 ounces; I am accepting Zelle (Preferred), PPFF (No notes pls), Cashpp, and Venmo FF (No notes pls). (USA only for these rates, special rates of other locations).
For Canada: Shipping for coins (non-coins vary) is 15 Dollars for 8 ounces total weight or less, 23 Dollars for 9 ounces or more.
I can risky ship anything that can be reasonable sent in a regular envelope with a stamp or two for a dollar of shipping
Disclaimer: I lose all responsibility once I drop the package at the post office, but I will help in any way I can for any issues that occur. I will ship once payment clears (once it no longer says pending in my bank account) (Zelle normally is good to go the next day, PP and Venmo can take a few days). Also, deposits can be made for any item for 25 percent or more of the agreed price, but the deposit is nonrefundable. All Payments are nonrefundable.

Proof: https://imgur.com/a/cAZELal
If there is anything you are interested in, just let me know. I am always willing to hear any offer. The worst thing I will do is shoot back a counteroffer.
Payment plans are available. More details at the bottom of the post.
All non-pms are on coinsales
All Prices are USD
I am Located in the US
I prefer chat, but pms are fine
I prefer to make sales, but I am willing to entertain trades.
For any coins you may want still shots of, or possibly a video in different lighting, please let me know. I will never have an issue doing this.
I have US coins and foreign coins. Look through it all, you may find something you did not know you wanted. If you want something I do not have, let me know. I may possibly be able to obtain some, or I could already have it.
All grades are my personal opinion, except those that are professionally graded. All Coins I marked as damaged, for the most part, I am unsure if they would grade straight or not; I just wanted to be transparent about them even though they still may be straight grade.
I promise to never give anyone my password and I have 2FA enabled.
Dollars
1879 S MS65 DMPL Morgan (Soapbox) https://imgur.com/a/dSM7SRF (1400.00)
1879 S MS64 Morgan (Toner in a Fatty) https://imgur.com/a/Te21BkM (135.00)
Images: https://imgur.com/a/bXzRSU3
1880 S MS64 Morgan (Semi PL and Purple Toner in a Gen 1 Soapbox) https://imgur.com/a/wLZeRnc (195.00)
1881 S MS63 VAM-1A Morgan (Toner) https://imgur.com/a/Dp3GFsK (85.00)
1884 O MS67 Morgan (Crazy Mega Toner) https://imgur.com/a/R97TekR (4200.00)
1884 O MS63 DMPL Morgan (Purple Toner in a Gen 1 Soapbox) https://imgur.com/a/K8LT2xN (500.00)
1884 CC MS64 Morgan (Toner in a Soapbox) https://imgur.com/a/b9NofJA (550.00)
1884 CC MS64 Morgan (Semi PL Lust Bomb in a Soapbox) https://imgur.com/a/YyD6l6w (515.00)
1886 MS62 PL Morgan (Rattler) https://imgur.com/a/vMDnM9P (200.00)
1892 O Morgan High VF (Bright) https://imgur.com/a/ku4xPq5 (55.00)
1896 Morgan Belt Buckle https://imgur.com/a/VcyvNjP (45.00)
1896 Morgan AU (Toned) https://imgur.com/a/e7c4enc (50.00)
1896 Morgan AU (Toned) https://imgur.com/a/g01zDBo (50.00)
1896 AU Morgan https://imgur.com/a/Rc313b7 (40.00)
1898 Morgan AU (Toned) https://imgur.com/a/TzJgNcA (50.00)
1898 MS62PL Morgan (Soapbox) https://imgur.com/a/BycvAyH (150.00)
1900 Lafayette MS60 Soap Box (Toner) https://imgur.com/a/JZdDjVm (900.00)
1921 MS63 PL Morgan (Soapbox) https://imgur.com/a/eRBR2Nw (500.00)
1921 MS63 PL Morgan (Soapbox) https://imgur.com/a/VfFMADA (500.00)
1921 MS63 Peace Dollar (Fatty) https://imgur.com/a/UbYm0VG (1050.00)
1923 MS63 Peace Dollar (Gen 2 Soapbox) https://imgur.com/a/9yg4TVy (70.00)
1934 D MS62 DBL DIE OBV VAM-3 Peace Dollar (Soapbox) https://imgur.com/a/ScGb7bg (350.00)
1934 D AU58 VAM-3 DDO LG D Peace Dollar (Soapbox) https://imgur.com/a/dHDSh01 (250.00)
1972 S PR69DCAM Silver Ike https://imgur.com/a/ZvzTrmV (30.00)
1972 S PR69DCAM Silver Ike https://imgur.com/a/6L9ztbd (30.00)
1973 S PR69DCAM Silver Ike https://imgur.com/a/yqKTUSf (40.00)
1997 Proof Silver Eagle (OGP) https://imgur.com/a/kZd3qoZ (80.00)
2005 Silver Eagle First Strike MS69 https://imgur.com/a/pxRPFuS (40.00)
2005 Silver Eagle MS69 https://imgur.com/a/zxzSuSv (38.00)
2005 Silver Eagle MS69 https://imgur.com/a/GCkFghF (35.00)
Video 2: https://imgur.com/a/Yl2VsqP
2011 Silver Eagle First Strike Struck at San Francisco MS69 https://imgur.com/a/wbiDsUC (40.00)
2013 (S) Silver Eagle First Strike Struck at San Francisco MS69 https://imgur.com/a/X5IzVR9 (40.00)
2013 (S) Silver Eagle Early Releases Struck at San Francisco MS69 https://imgur.com/a/SV5Xj43 (40.00)
2021 Peace Dollar in OGP https://imgur.com/a/BlwZkB5 (205.00)
Half Dollars
1854 O G Seated Half https://imgur.com/a/5YDXLlt (30.00)
1877 G Seated Half Dollar (Cleaned) https://imgur.com/a/GiX4bzc (25.00)
1892 AG Barber Half https://imgur.com/a/AFFhmVx (35.00)
1916 S AG Walking Liberty Half https://imgur.com/a/1weOxxW (50.00)
1921 S AG Walking Liberty Half https://imgur.com/a/enXOi59 (50.00)
1936 York Half Dollar (Green CAC and Rattler) https://imgur.com/a/1BD0GBz (280.00)
1946 AU58 Half Dollar DDR (Subtle Blue and Gold Toner in a Soap Box) https://imgur.com/a/cnLo0uV (325.00)
Error Link: https://www.pcgs.com/coinfacts/coin/1946-50c-doubled-die-reverse/6632
1953 D MS64FBL Franklin (Crack on Case, so the Price is Discounted) https://imgur.com/a/ag9u9xU (40.00)
1956 PF67 Type 2 Franklin (Fatty) https://imgur.com/a/wSp88Pe (60.00)
1958 MS66 Franklin (Toner) https://imgur.com/a/xPXZujb (75.00)
1960 PR65 Franklin (Rattler) https://imgur.com/a/YNKqQ9G (40.00)
1962 PF67 Franklin (Toner in a Fatty) https://imgur.com/a/gzkvg20 (40.00)
1962 PF67 Franklin (Toner in a Fatty) https://imgur.com/a/TNSnBme (35.00)
1963 PF66 Ultra Cameo Franklin https://imgur.com/a/WNMCpYG (130.00)
2014 S PR69DCAM First Strike Limited Edition PR Set Kennedy Half https://imgur.com/a/CDL35LL (35.00)
Quarters
1871 S G Seated Quarter (Key Date!) (Counterstamped) https://imgur.com/a/yfl3y0h (425.00)
1893 S Barber Quarter VG (Gorgeous Toner) https://imgur.com/a/WcLNcJb (35.00)
Video 2: https://imgur.com/a/mr6RPW0
1905 O Barber Quarter F https://imgur.com/a/mntr7ex (48.00)
1x Face (1936, 1936, 1937 D, 1945) (Under Melt!) https://imgur.com/a/5G9pq7N (22.00)
Dimes
1837 F Dime (Bent) https://imgur.com/a/Aa5Ats5 (30.00)
1929 D MS64FB Merc (Toned) https://imgur.com/a/vK1aCx4 (175.00)
Video 2: https://imgur.com/a/VAeQgL2
1942 MS65FB Mercury Dime (OGH) https://imgur.com/a/BoyszIc (45.00)
1944 MS66 Mercury Dime (Green CAC and Fatty) https://imgur.com/a/srJTfWG (70.00)
1957 D MS66 Dime (Toner) https://imgur.com/a/Cfl2KJY (40.00)
1964 PF68 Ultra Cameo Dime https://imgur.com/a/0jkPTSz (40.00)
1982 No P Dime (Rattler! and Haze) https://imgur.com/a/c7AQGiQ (450.00)
Video 2: https://imgur.com/a/y3i4wos
Images: https://imgur.com/a/OC0PJPN
Nickels
1938 D MS63 Buffalo Nickel (Fatty) https://imgur.com/a/hunfpfF (30.00)
1942 PR63 Jefferson Nickel (Toner) https://imgur.com/a/C91dcKR (50.00)
1963 PF69 Cameo Nickel (Very Pretty Coin) https://imgur.com/a/ESByy63 (50.00)
Cents
1858 Flying Eagle Cent FR https://imgur.com/a/7uqYwO1 (12.00)
1873 Open 3 AU Details Corrosion IHC (Attractive Coin!) https://imgur.com/a/nuAw0vJ (125.00)
1937 S MS66 RD Wheat Penny https://imgur.com/a/A4wskUD (30.00)
1946-D MS67 RED Soapbox https://imgur.com/a/JCwe4i1 (145.00)
Anicents
Maximinus I Denarius MS ⅘, ⅘ https://imgur.com/a/5u7GLt1 (350.00)
ROMAN EMPIRE: Maximinus I, AD 235-238, AR Denarius (20mm, 3.59 gm, 12h). NGC MS 4/5 - 4/5. Rome, ca. January AD 236-April AD 238. MAXIMINVS PIVS AVG GERM, laureate, draped, cuirassed bust of Maximinus I right / FIDES M-I-LITVM, Fides standing facing, head left, with standard in each hand, one on each side. RIC IV.II 18A.
Shipping for coins (non-coins vary) is 5 Dollars for 12 ounces total weight or less, 8 dollars for over 12 ounces; I am accepting Zelle (Preferred), PPFF (No notes pls), Cashpp, and Venmo FF (No notes pls). (USA only for these rates, special rates of other locations).
For Canada: Shipping for coins (non-coins vary) is 15 Dollars for 8 ounces total weight or less, 23 Dollars for 9 ounces or more.
I can risky ship anything that can be reasonable sent in a regular envelope with a stamp or two for a dollar of shipping
Disclaimer: I lose all responsibility once I drop the package at the post office, but I will help in any way I can for any issues that occur. I will ship once payment clears (once it no longer says pending in my bank account) (Zelle normally is good to go the next day, PP and Venmo can take a few days). Also, deposits can be made for any item for 25 percent or more of the agreed price, but the deposit is nonrefundable. All Payments are nonrefundable.

(mods took this down and said put it in discussion, but i can’t put it there because it’s too long i think. if it needs to get taken down i understand! but ive seen others up so im giving it another try)
doing a relisten as I write this :) ratings all /100
overcompensate - 78: incredible song on its own. people have been saying ALL the singles feel separate from this album, but i think that’s just because they’ve been out much longer. OC is the only song that truly feels separate. that being said, absolute banger and still a crazy way to start an album/live shows
next semester - 80: this was my most listened to song of all time three days after it dropped. love the 2000s punk vibes. that ending sells it for me. absolutely beautiful. was really surprised when paul did the “production peek” and there’s not a single guitar on this song😟
backslide - 82: looking back, this song gave us a huge look into what a lot of the album would sound like. dry delivery, passionate chorus, and filled to the brim with weird noises and synths. this one feels underrated because i know a lot of people aren’t a huge fan, but this became my favorite of the three singles after a few listens. that chorus is beautiful. the end is so weird too but it scratches my brain. thank you paul meany
midwest indigo - 93: that second verse is probably on of my favorites in their whole discography. CLOUD COVERAGE MATCHED MY OUTFIT TO A KNIFE (heavily processed scream) I REQUESTED COUNCIL WITH THE COUNSELOR AND HE CANCELED TWICE‼️‼️‼️ that’s all i have to say.
routines in the night - 95: my favorite here on first listen. the chorus is so catchy and the vocal production is so clean. i like the slightly autotuned second verse. his flow is great and the tricks they’re doing to the vocals is so cool. the prechorus on this song is also beautiful. “the space between a painful reminder and a terrible dream” the writing on this record is amazing
vignette - 100: masterpiece of a song. feels like im getting pushed out of a plane. i could not BELIEVE that chorus when i first heard it. one of tyler’s best falsettos and maybe best recorded vocal performances. it all feels very self titled, but if it were produced by modern twenty one pilots. im so glad they’re using real (or at least very convincing) string sections.
the craving - 72: beautiful love song. none of the previous album love songs were quite as “real” as this one. truly feels like the intersection between personal struggle, insecurity, and unrelenting love for another person. i’m a little iffy on some of the vocal deliveries and it does slow down the album a bit. however, after i listen to the album more, i feel like it’s a much needed slowdown and the placement is really thoughtful.
lavish - 75: this song is ridiculous. it grows on me every single time i listen. that beat truly does feel like a million dollars and it’s hilarious hearing tyler rap over it. i didn’t like the chorus initially but again, after more listens, it works so well and it adds so much to the song. and then of course there’s the proctologist line. it took me so long to get it and even now i only have a vague understanding of what it could mean😭 either way it makes me laugh every time and im grateful for the inclusion
navigating - 85: ive seen the next semester music video so many times that the bass lick from navigating has been drilled into my head as the start of next semester. now it’s forever tied to that song and it’s so jarring hearing that part here. anyways this song ROCKS. feels super interpol to me. the drumming on this whole album is fantastic and a step up from previous albums but josh stands out here like he never really has. i can’t wait to hear this live and see josh going crazy on the drums. MY OH MY‼️
snap back - 55: i think the thing that gets me is that silly mallet synth in the background. it’s not bad, but it pulls me out of the song and album a little bit. i actually like tyler’s vocal delivery a lot, but unlike most of the vocal tricks on the album, the weird panning high shifted vocals don’t do it for me. all of the sung parts that occur in the first minute and 55 seconds kinda bother me. the song really gets better for me after 1:55, but it isn’t enough to save it for me. i really hope that this one grows on me because there are a ton of cool ideas.
oldies station - 70: people were saying this sounded like AJR. i was confused until i heard those crowd vocals😔 i am not a fan of the way that was executed and it unfortunately does feel very AJR. i thought it was going to be repeated a ton of times, but i was happily very incorrect about that. the song builds out beautifully, and even with the crowd vocals part, this song is written incredibly. was the only song besides maybe next semester to have me holding back tears.
at the risk of feeling dumb - 75: was afraid seeing the name of this song when the tracklist was revealed. it felt a little immature? but knowing what it’s actually about puts me at ease. the intro feels a little silly for the subject matter, but the song it builds into what i was hoping for by the end of the first verse. i love the sentiment and i think it’s communicated perfectly in this song
paladin strait - 83: the only thing holding this back from a 100 is the fact that the bird part wasn’t 6 and a half minutes instead of one minute😔 but for real, JOSH SINGS? i think. i saw someone point it out in the discord, and it sounds like his voice in the “making my way towards you”. i hope that’s him, i really do. i wish this song was really 6 and a half minutes of material instead of 5, but we can only dream of the true 6.5 minute song. its a great closer to this album, but im a sucker for piano ballads so i wish there was at least a little bit of piano in here, but that goes with what i think about the lore. i will elaborate in full album review.
personal ranking:

1. routines
2. vignette
3. midwest indigo
4. backslide
5. lavish
6. navigating
7. next semester
8. overcompensate
9. paladin strait
10. the craving
11. at the risk of feeling dumb
12. oldies station
13. snap back

i love this album. it’s not trench, but it doesn’t have to be. i’m still a trench lover until the day i die, but this album has so many different ideas whereas trench had a cohesive sound palette. the reason i bring up trench at all is because so many people are comparing the two when i feel like they fill their own roles. anyways, this is an incredible collection of songs and i feel like josh truly gets a chance to shine here. tyler’s vocal performances are better than they ever have been, recording wise, and i think everything from the album cover, to the tracklist, to the singles were executed really well. one thing is for certain, this is not the end of the lore. only two songs were directly tied to the lore, being the first and last. whether it’s through videos, singles, concerts, or even another album, i can’t wait to see the true end to it all. personally, i wouldn’t like the non-lore songs to become videos that actually help end it all. it was fine on SAI with saturday and the outside, but i preferred lore related songs with lore related videos like on trench. i don’t believe there will be a double album just because they’ve already done all the promotion, music videos, sold physical copies, and are touring THIS album for the coming year. the only thing they could do immediately in terms of new music would be to release clancy 2 or clancy deluxe with the same aesthetic, but that’s no fun. i simply think tyler and josh are lying and we’ll get another album that’s more lore heavy. paladin strait does not feel like an ending to even the story this album is trying to set up. closer? yes. but not an ending. it’s very transitional and i’d be genuinely surprised if it doesn’t lead into a future album. especially with blurryface popping up at the end. if you got this far, thank you for listening to the ramblings.
album rating: 84/100

I stumbled across a sample of Polo Red last week in my house and tried it out. It’s fantastic. So, I went down the rabbit hole of Polo Red and discovered Polo Red Extreme. Discontinued but still available on eBay amongst a few places. I’m still angry that Armani Mania was discontinued though I still have a full bottle.
Anyway, before going all in on the Red Extreme, I fired up YouTube to gaze at some reviews. Overall, they were good reviews but I figured I’d think about it for a couple days.
As is tradition, Facebook blasted me with fragrance ads. One of them caught me—Creed Aventus and Bond No. 9 Bleecker Street samples. Screw it, I’ve been curious about both of them for a year or so.
I’m not as impressed with the Creed as I thought I’d be. Maybe my expectations were too high. Don’t get me wrong, I do like it. But I don’t love it. I’ve had it on for about ten hours today and it’s still going. It almost has a generic well-groomed aroma to it that smells like a familiar place. I feel like should be wearing a suit in a dimly lit lounge in the 1950’s after losing $2785 at a blackjack table on the strip in Vegas and this whiskey is making it just a little easier to seethe without showing it. I should be at home watching the grandkids open Christmas presents but my wife died nine months ago and I just can’t stomach seeing the boys with their wives right now. It’s just not the same without their mother. When the waitress lit my cigar, she gave me a smile, but her eyes told me she sees my pain. She took my hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. After she walked away, I sat back. The place is crowded and the sound of voices blend together. I can’t make out any actual conversation. A light haze of cigar smoke is in the air. Maybe I’ll buy that lady over there a drink. The boys would understand, wouldn’t they? They’d say, “It isn’t your fault, Dad. We all tried to warn her about the sharks around the boat but she insisted that they were dolphins. You gotta move on Pops.”
I stood, straightened my tie, and picked up my glass of whiskey.
I might still grab a bottle of Aventus.
Yesterday, I tried out the Bleecker Street. I’d seen a video or two about it a long time ago but don’t remember much about it. All I can say is HOLY HELL IT IS DELICIOUS. It smells like something fresh out of the shower. A sweet, cool warmth if that makes any sense at all. It’s a smell good, feel good scent. Refreshing and unique. It comes across as an any time scent. Like it’ll fit no matter the occasion. Except for the lounge scenario above. Armani Mania has been my favorite for over 20 years, but Bleecker Street might bump it from first place. It’s that bloody good.
After I had it on for about an hour, I was sold and ordered a bottle. This morning when I woke up, I could still smell it.
If I like this flavor as much as I do, I’m wondering if there are other Bond No. 9 fragrances I’d be into.
Any Bond No. 9 people want to chime in? I’m very curious.
If you’ve read this far, I apologize for my long-winded post. But I wanted to add that I hadn’t forgotten about the Polo Red. I ordered that as well. Something about its sweet, syrupy warmth is just enveloping.

When I’m around other people during a flare, they aren’t seeing the full me. Even at a 4-5/10, I may not feel comfortable pushing limits. Some days I am ready to go driving to places, some days I am only scraping the bare minimum. There are so many layers to everyone, activity levels ebb and flow while the pain morphs from a dull ache to a sharp burn and back again. Those that don’t understand can be unhelpful in the most frustrating ways, but others pleasantly surprise me with their empathy and ability to imagine life in someone else’s shoes. We may have hobbies that we can only do sparingly or not at all anymore, but it doesn’t mean we don’t have interests. We are still unique and talented individuals, even if we are limited in said talents. I’ve been doing more hobbies that can be done in and out of bed, like singing, making others laugh, reading, and random internet research. Sometimes I edit videos on my phone. A person who sees us for all that we are and who has seen our best and worst days with love and compassion are so important. 🤍
I hope this made someone smile today. :)

I posted in this sub a few times last year when I was really going through it. Brain fog, anxiety, fatigue, vision issues, debilitating headaches and hyper sensitivity (“mini” concussions from small bumps of the head). I had 4-5 concussions over the course of 3 years, with 3 of those occurring within 2 months of each other. Outside of some lingering neck issues, I’ve made a full recovery and want to share what worked for me.
Please don’t let this long list stress you out though. There were days when getting out of bed in the morning felt like an accomplishment. Every recovery is different and only you can know what your body and brain are feeling.
Commitment After my most recent injury I decided that getting better was the most important thing in my life and I completely dedicated myself to my recovery. That’s why this list is as long as it is — I decided I was going to try everything.
Research Learning about concussions is a great place to start! It really helped me plan my course of action and think rationally about recovery. This sub is a great source of knowledge. Complete concussion management on YouTube has some great intro videos too.
Exercise I think that exercise was the #1 most important factor in my recovery. I started by going on short daily walks and doing light yoga in my house and eventually built up to 2x cardio 3x weightlifting 2x yoga every week. I got in the habit of exercising early in the day and felt like it really helped with my mental energy throughout the day.
Diet I tried to eat an anti inflammatory diet but it was hard (I really love to eat lol). I couldn’t go completely keto but I cut out carbs where I could and made an effort to cook all of my own meals with a lot of protein and vegetables. Avocado and olive oils give you omega 9s which are important for omega 3 absorption. I also didn’t really drink at all.
Supplements I don’t know exactly what worked and what didn’t but you should definitely be taking omega 3 (and probably creatine). My stack: - 4000 mg Nordic Naturals omega 3. Can cut down to normal dose after a couple months - 5 mg creatine monohydrate - 2000 mg magnesium l-theronate - 1g ImmPower AHCC (mushroom-based immune supplement) - 125 mcg vitamin d3 - Multivitamin - Dietary fiber + probiotic (gut health is important)
CBD Only way I could get to sleep for a couple months. Great for headaches. It’s also a nice substitute for alcohol when going out with friends.
Concussion clinic + Neurofeedback I went to a concussion clinic in NC shortly after my last concussion. Most of my problems were cognitive so my doctor recommended a neurofeedback program. I was super skeptical at first but it definitely improved my screen tolerance and I felt like it helped with teaching my brain how to switch off.
Neurologist + Nortryptoline Neurologists are really only good for one thing: prescribing meds. There’s a good chance you don’t need to take an SNRI but I had nerve damage at the site of impact that, whenever touched, would cause me a lot of pain and trigger hours of concussion symptoms. I think that my meds (prescribed for nerve pain) helped get some of this hypersensitivity under control.
Meditation There are people on this sub who can speak to this better than me but after a concussion your autonomic nervous system can be in an “always on” mode where you’re constantly in a state of fight or flight. Meditation while concussed is very challenging and won’t immediately zen you out but it will help you notice just how overactive your brain is and help you train yourself to redirect your attention when your mind runs wild.
Physical therapy + dry needling If you have any neck pain at all, go to PT. Seriously! It might be causing most if not all of your headaches. A few months of stretching and strengthening exercises helped resolve most of my headaches. Also, if dry needling is legal in your state, seek it out for really intense neck tightness. My PT offered needling and it was a godsend on my worst days.
Brain challenges I’m a computer programmer so getting back into work was challenging enough but I also made an effort to try to learn a new language and do some daily puzzles to help foster some new neural connections.
Try to relax when I bump my head Idk I still freak out when I bonk. I probably have had 30-40 “flare ups” over the past 2 years. No one on the internet seems to have a great answer for why this happens. I think it’s probably some sort of learned response from the brain in response to a stressor. I recently took the approach of doing everything in my power to chill out when I bump my head on something (including taking cbd immediately after). Not sure if this helped or I just needed time but I hit my head on a cabinet pretty hard last week and experienced no symptoms! That’s honestly what encouraged me to write this post.
I hope some of this will be helpful to someone. Feel free to comment or hit my dm’s if you want any more detail on anything.

A few years ago, I had the chance to learn about Venerable Minh Tue through the YouTube channel Nhan Ga Vlogs. The videos show the monk in a cave at Mount San (Nha Trang), near my home. In these videos, the Venerable does not preach or talk about himself. He only answers questions and shares his journey of practice honestly. What I am most interested in are his insights on practice and discipline. I realized that Venerable Minh Tue has read extensively and understands the Nikaya scriptures deeply, practicing according to the Buddha's teachings. This led me to conclude that he is a true monk.
Today, Venerable Minh Tue is known by many (I prefer not to use the word "famous" for a monastic) and has widespread influence, reaching beyond national borders. The story of Venerable Minh Tue has become hotter than ever, flooding social media with videos and images of him. This has sparked a variety of opinions, ranging from admiration and respect to criticism and contempt. Many paths of human experience!
Fortunately, those who think negatively about him are still a minority.
Venerable Minh Tue practices the ascetic path of Dhutanga. Some people look at his conduct and attire and criticize him as crazy, self-mortifying, lacking wisdom, and not following the Middle Way that the Buddha encouraged. However, these critics do not realize that Venerable Minh Tue is practicing according to the correct Dharma, following the teachings of the original scriptures. He has abandoned family life, living a pure and simple life, renouncing all attachments, and practicing minimalism and contentment. People confuse the ascetic practices of Dhutanga with the severe austerities the Buddha practiced during his six years of seeking enlightenment. Those severe practices involved extreme self-mortification, causing great physical pain (originating from Brahmanism). Thus, Dhutanga in a sense is a precursor to the Middle Way and still closely aligns with it.
Many argue that monastic life should prioritize wisdom over physical asceticism. However, they confuse worldly wisdom with Buddhist wisdom. Worldly wisdom is human cognitive ability, derived from genetics and education, whereas Buddhist wisdom is only revealed when a practitioner strictly adheres to precepts. Observance of precepts leads to concentration, and concentration leads to wisdom. Therefore, the Buddha said, "Where there is virtue, there is wisdom and vice versa."
The core of practicing Dhutanga is to end all defilements and impurities. This practice helps the practitioner guard the senses, not being influenced by circumstances, gradually eliminating greed, hatred, and delusion. That is why monastics eat only one meal a day (reducing greed for food), sleep sitting (reducing the desire for sleep, as lying down can lead to deep, excessive sleep), and wear three robes (actually one set, the minimum requirement, reducing attachment to clothing).
Some criticize why a Dhutanga practitioner does not live alone in the forest but wanders across the country. The answer is that finding forests in Vietnam today like in the Buddha's time is impossible. Venerable Minh Tue has also spent time in seclusion on Mount San. So why does he choose to walk across the country? He answers that it is to "train and maintain health." In a deeper understanding, he is practicing the true Dharma of the Tathagata. Walking helps him to be mindful of body, feelings, mind, and phenomena; living in hardship, experiencing suffering, and understanding the cause of suffering leads to the end of suffering, rather than hoping to escape suffering to find happiness.
On his journey, if he is tempted by material possessions, money, or beauty, it means that desire has arisen; if he feels troubled by the crowd, it means anger has arisen. Therefore, solitary retreat alone may not necessarily help control the mind when faced with worldly temptations.
Many people also question the social utility of his wanderings. If everyone did as he does, who would produce food? These questions are shortsighted and self-serving.
What have we done for society? Everyone contributes to society in varying degrees, and human values are not solely measured by material contributions but also by spiritual ones. Typically, what we do is visible and beneficial to ourselves and our families. In contrast, what Venerable Minh Tue has done for society is far more significant and evident:

• He has helped many people see the image of original Buddhism and the monastic life of the Buddha.
• He serves as a mirror reflecting the true nature of some "fraudulent monks," "transaction monks," and "advisory monks."
• He has awakened many who were lost in false doctrines, bringing them back to the light of the true Dharma.
• He has maintained faith in Buddhism for many and earned the admiration of followers of other religions.
• He has inspired many to reflect on themselves, reducing greed, hatred, and delusion in their lives. Some have even given up everything to follow his path.
• In a way, he has brought people closer and fostered social harmony.

If society could follow his example, it would be wonderful. Then, I believe, society would not only have food and clothing but also a more peaceful and happy life. However, few people can do what he does!
Some people question why he refers to himself as "con" (child) instead of "thầy" (teacher).
First, he has chosen the path of renunciation, no longer bound by monastic duties at a temple, and does not consider himself anyone's teacher to avoid influencing others and bureaucratic issues.
Second, the self-reference "thầy" among monks and laypeople today is merely a convention in communication. There is no binding requirement. In essence, it is a cultural practice in Vietnamese language, while in English, it is just "I-You," or in Chinese, "Wǒ 我 - Nǐ 你." Some high-ranking monks still refer to themselves as "tôi" (I) or their Dharma names when teaching. Venerable Minh Tue's use of "con" with everyone demonstrates his practice of humility, renouncing the ego, which is the spirit of selflessness.
Currently, wherever he goes, hundreds to thousands of people follow, including many YouTubers, TikTokers, and Facebookers. This has raised concerns about security and disruptions to his practice.
I believe we should not rush to blame or criticize those creating social media content. Let's see the positive side, for without them, how could the beautiful image of a true monk spread? In this era, spreading the Dharma and sharing good things are more effective with the support of media and social networks. How else would Vietnamese Buddhists know about the teachings of monks like Phap Hoa or Tinh Khong and other high-ranking monks?
Moreover, their gathering is also a test for Venerable Minh Tue to practice mind control. If he starts feeling important, central, or like a star due to attention and veneration, he immediately falls into ego clinging and arrogance. If he gets annoyed by the crowd, it means anger has arisen. These situations are ultimate tests on the path of precepts and mindfulness. Observing him, no matter how hard the walk, his face remains serene with a smile. Perhaps he has attained tranquility.
Some people express sympathy for him, tearfully seeing him bareheaded, barefoot, under the sun and rain. This emotional response is understandable but from a worldly perspective. Choosing the path of asceticism makes him feel internal joy, and these hardships help him approach enlightenment.
Some worry about him facing dangers from dark forces. Don't worry; choosing this path requires great courage. Didn't he say, "If I'm allowed to live, I'll continue to practice"? This shows fearlessness as he has thoroughly understood impermanence and selflessness. What we should care about is whether he has truly attained this mindset. If he has, Nirvana is not far away. Therefore, we should rejoice.
I predict that at some stage, after experiencing suffering and training body and mind, Venerable Minh Tue might retreat into seclusion to achieve enlightenment. Once precepts are fully observed, meditation is necessary to attain concentration.
Certainly, his influence has reduced the income of some fraudulent monks, who might even have to sell cars and land. Therefore, it is not surprising that efforts to defame and harm Venerable Minh Tue are intensifying. Initially, they fabricated stories of false monasticism with staged filming. They ridiculed his robe, calling it "plot selling land," or criticized his rice cooker as an unofficial alms bowl. But they fail to understand that he has reached a state of non-attachment, indifferent to shame or ridicule. Having chosen a renunciant life, living without family, sleeping in cemeteries, overcoming family ties is the greatest obstacle.
The meanest tactic they use is labeling him as an agent of foreign anti-government organizations, portraying him as a beggar monk to undermine Vietnamese Buddhism and the nation.
I must say, Vietnamese Buddhism is undermined by fraudulent monks, tolerated and supported. They exploit karma and reincarnation theories, distorting and frightening the ignorant with horrific afterlife scenarios. They continue exploiting donations as a way to resolve karmic debts, seeking blessings, and accumulating merit, the more money, the better, even encouraging devotees to donate entire houses to temples and live simply elsewhere. In short, just donate.
Therefore, the purification of fraudulent monks will be the revival of Vietnamese Buddhism.
Praising Venerable Minh Tue's practice does not mean devaluing other practices of true monks in the country. Each has different capacities and vows, so not everyone can be the same. Every individual is here to fulfill a unique mission.
If the standard of a monk is virtue, clearly, the one who practices surpasses the one who understands. Practicing Dhutanga is a great merit, rarely achieved. Therefore, praising and respecting virtue is right but not deifying or idolizing Venerable Minh Tuệ at this moment, as this would lead to wrong views and contradict the spirit of Buddhism.
To understand the significance of practicing Dhutanga, let me quote the Buddha's praise of Venerable Kasyapa's practice:
“Well done! Well done, Kasyapa! You have brought great benefit and saved innumerable beings, extending this to all the realms of gods and men. Why? Kasyapa, if this ascetic practice remains in the world, then my teachings will also remain long in the world. If my teachings remain in the world, then the path to the heavenly realm will increase, and the three evil paths will diminish. Likewise, the noble paths of Sotapanna, Sakadagami, Anagami, and the Three Vehicles will also remain in the world. Monks, you should practice as Kasyapa does.
Thus, monks, you should learn this.” (4)
Notes: (1) In the Samannaphala Sutta, Kinh Chung Đức (2) Also known as Prajna Wisdom (3) In the Kinh Chung Đức (4) In the Ekottara Agama, Volume I
Nha Trang, May 10, 2024 Nguyen Thanh Huy Email: [thanhhuy1979@gmail.com]()
Editor's Note: (*) Currently a lecturer in the Department of Linguistics at the University.

Hello all. I wanted to share this story in the hopes you don’t make the same mistake I did.
I (27m) have always had issues expressing my love for people. I know I love people like my family and friends, I just can’t bring myself to tell them. It has been at least 12 years since I have told my mom that I loved her, even though I cannot imagine going through life without her. I told my dad that I loved him when he was going through a rough spot with my mom 6 years ago and we both broke down crying, which made me not want to do that again in a way. It took me 18 months to tell my girlfriend that I loved her and it was an intense moment for me. I don’t know why I have so much trouble telling people they matter to me, but that may be something to explore in therapy.
3 years ago, I lost my uncle to pancreatic cancer. I found out in October the previous year and he was dead by April - in 6 months, he went from functional to in horrible pain and dying. His wife was useless as they had not been getting along so it was my parents and me that cared for him. I took him to countless doctor appointments, chemotherapy and radiation treatments, and emergency trips to the ER. I was happy to do it. He and I had a close bond as I was growing up. He would take me to McDonalds on weekends and include me in his family’s celebrations (he was my uncle by marriage). We weren’t related by blood but he treated me as such and I will forever be grateful.
In the week before his death, I had to take a work trip out of town. I was working in a position that was essential to coordinating different in-person operations of a company during the pandemic so I could not opt out. The night I left, I stopped by his house. His wife was ignoring him and he was alone in the guest room watching YouTube videos. It was clear he was hoping to talk to someone. I got a status report from him and just chatted for a bit. During the entire conversation, each muscle in my body and thought in my hear was screaming at me to tell him how much I loved him and appreciated his time as I grew up. I desperately wanted to tell him how much he meant to me and the profound impact he had on my life. Looking at him, I knew he was going to die very soon. I started to tell him but kept stopping and mentioning something else. I couldn’t do it. My last words to him were “See you next time.” and I patted him on the shoulder.
He died one week later. That was my last interaction with him.
When I got the news he died, I was devastated. I was driving back to town and hoped to meet him, but he died about 4 hours before I got there. It was the toughest drive I have ever had to make. The time between his death and the funeral was a daze. We were incredibly lucky to get a funeral booked during that time due to the COVID deaths and his entire family all came up to me and told me how much he appreciated and respected me. All I could do was thank them.
In the weeks and months after the funeral, I kept thinking about how much of a coward I was. I didn’t give a dying man I loved the message because I was too afraid to do it? I couldn’t believe that. To this day, I still think this is the worst thing I have ever done (or not done) because he needed it and I just couldn’t share how I felt. I wonder to what extent I am capable of incredible cruelty for not sharing, and whether I could tell my mom or dad I loved them on their deathbed. I wonder if it makes me a bad person, or perhaps an incredibly broken one?
I urge you to avoid my mistake. You only live once and it’s really difficult to regret telling someone how much they mean to you, but INCREDIBLY easy to regret not telling them. I just started a new job with therapy benefits so I will be taking advantage of that, but I sincerely hope you tell someone how much you love them. Don’t live with the incredible guilt I live with.
Thank you for listening.

In competitive video games, weapon bans are extremely common. Especially in fighting games and MOBAS where characters and unlocks are banned fairly often. If a certain weapon/unlock is too strong or makes the game painfully unfun why include it?