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

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

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

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

I just saw my ex tonight for the first time in months & now i don’t know how to feel. For context i am the one that broke up with her & i am the one that told her we shouldn’t talk or be friends anymore months after the breakup. Let me give you guys the back story. She was my first relationship ever & she my was my first time. She was my first everything & i feel like that’s why it’s so hard for me to move on. When we started dating she told me about her past relationship which was over a year before we started talking & she said it was very toxic. She told me about how she was cheated on & how she stayed & all these different things about how bad it was. Hearing these things just made me want to show her what real love was even though she was my first love. As u can predict , our relationship was pretty toxic. She would always try to end things with me & block me & I would always beg for her back & we would always end up making up. A couple of months into the relationship I just started feeling drained honestly but i just loved her so much that I wanted to work through it. Her birthday came around & I threw a party for her at my house and made it super special. The next morning I decided to go through her phone because she would always follow guys back & had random guys on her spam. I found out that everytime we stopped talking or “broke up” for the night, she would text some guys & all these different things. I don’t know if she physically cheated or if texting guys is even considered cheating at all but I was hurt. I confronted her about it & she got mad at me & I ended up begging for her back. We stayed together for a couple of months after that incident but i felt so different. I couldn’t let any of that go so then one day i just decided to break up with her. It was hard for me but I had to for my mental well being. A few weeks after she texted me saying she was pregnant. So we continued talking & We ended up getting an abortion. It was so hard for the both of us & i continued to try to be there for her because I cared for her still obviously. We would still hangout & go out on dates & stuff like that for a few months. One day i found out she was having sex with one of my homies during that whole time & I was honestly so hurt. My whole friend group knew about it & nobody told me anything. The whole time i was being there for her because she was hurt about the abortion, she was having sex with my friend & risking getting pregnant again. I was still friends with that whole group & i was confused as to why they chose her over me. I introduced her to them & i had been friends with them since middle school. It was a tough point in my life because i felt like i lost everything & i was honestly suicidal. I cut things off with her completely & with that whole group. I saw her again a few months after that & she wanted to be friends still but i told her it was just best for the both of us to stop talking. A month after that encounter she shows up to my workplace with a new guy. She’s now been dating him for a couple of months & i don’t understand how she could just move on so fast from everything that happened. I’m still hurt to this day & the thought of being with someone else right now doesn’t sit right with me. Tonight was the first time seeing her in like 5 months & i decided ed to write this post because I honestly have no one to talk to. If u read this whole thing, thank i so much. Typing this made me feel a whole lot better.

Hi, this is gonna be a bit long, but let me explain the entire situation so far: Going back about a year or so, I started noticing an elevated heart rate above what I usually would have. I have an apple watch that allows me to check my heart rate, and around this time I started to get notifications that my heart rate was above average (in the 120s to 130s range while resting as opposed to my normal 60-80 range). This happened a few times along with some very minor chest pain / tightness, however after laying down for a few hours / going to bed it would usually return to normal. Around the same time I got diagnosed with anxiety and ADHD and placed on an SSRI to help my anxiety after trying ADHD meds and not liking them. I never really had any incidents with high heart rate after that, so I had assumed it was just anxiety causing it (and that may still be the case). A few months went by and I ended up starting college and got myself a girlfriend. As I ended up finding out, SSRIs, while great, have the unfortunate side effect of erectile dysfunction, so I weaned off my meds so I could prioritize my love life. There were a few incidents after this where my heart rate was above average, but again I just chalked this up to anxiety, as it would usually go away on its own. At one point I went into my on campus doctor's office just to verify my heart was okay after an elevated heart rate the night before, and they gave me an EKG which came up clear. Months go by, and things are fine, besides a slight uptick in anxiety. Unfortunately however, my relationship began to crumble and my anxiety skyrocketed, and we eventually broke up, which led me to talking to my doctor and getting placed back on anxiety medication. However, I really didn't like how SSRI's impacted my libido, so after trying a few more SSRI's I was placed on Buspirone. I love Buspirone, and it's made a noticeable difference on my confidence / reducing anxiety. When I take my full dose at once (30 mg), I tend to get a bit dizzy / nauseous, however when split up into 10 mg taken at breakfast lunch and dinner I have no noticeable side effects. I will say (and I don't know if this is in any way important but I'm just naming everything possible), I have noticed that since stopping the SSRIs and starting Buspirone I tend to ejaculate VERY fast which is abnormal for me, and although I would like to fix that it is not my main concern. Moving on though, after about a month or two after being placed on Buspirone, we get to where my heart problems start. As someone who had never used any substances my entire life, leaving home and going to college gave me the freedom to try new things, and although I know it's not great, on weekends me and my friends will get together and drink or occasionally smoke weed / take an edible. I was worried at first about interactions with my medication, but after some research all anything online could tell me was that I may get drunk faster / more nauseous and dizzy, which wasn't too big of a deal for me. I had tried weed earlier in college and didn't like the way it made me feel, however after being placed on Buspirone I decided to try it again and actually enjoyed the feeling, so I started doing it more on the weekends as opposed to just drinking, which leads us to the incident. Me and some friends had just sat down to watch a movie, and all taken an edible. Time passed, and I started to notice that my heart rate was extremely elevated, way more than I was usually used to. I checked my heart rate, and found that my watch was displaying an average of 160 bpm. At first I thought I was just having a bad high and tried to calm myself. I laid on the floor and put some ice on my forehead, but nothing was helping. I checked my heart rate again and saw that my watch was displaying 190, which really freaked me out as that was way higher than I had ever seen before. I had my sober friend call Public Safety for me, and they came to my dorm room and did a basic check up on me. They said that I had a fever, and when they took my heart rate they got something in the 160s range. Their explanation was that my anxiety, when combined with being high and likely being sick made my heart rate elevated, which made sense at the time. I went into my college's health services to follow up the next day since my heart rate was still elevated (in the 120s-130s range), however they again told me it was probably just anxiety. A few days went by and my heart rate was STILL above average, so I decided to double check with my real doctor off campus. About a day before this I had also stopped taking my medication to see if it could be the cause for my elevated heart rate. The doctors took my vitals and immediately noticed that had very high blood pressure and an elevated heart rate, to the point where they sent in a second doctor to recheck my vitals and make sure it was correct. After talking to me and having me give a run down of my symptoms, they had me schedule an appointment with a cardiologist and told me that if I ever experience chest pain and a heart rate above 100 bpm that wouldn't go down to go to the hospital. I had also told them about how I stopped taking my medication and they told me that that was fine and to tell the cardiologist about it. About a week passes, and I have my cardiologist appointment in a few days. I had been up the night before working on my final exams, so I hadn't gotten much sleep, and besides a breakfast sandwich that I had for lunch I hadn't eaten much either. I had been experiencing chest pain all day, but I assumed it was being caused by my lack of sleep, so after classes I went and took a nap. After a few hours I woke up, and immediately noticed that I still had chest pain. I checked my apple watch, and my heart rate was displaying roughly 90-110 bpm while laying down, which on top of the chest pain made me worried since my doctor had told me that that was cause to go to the hospital. I called my parents to tell them about it, and they drove to the school and had me sit in the car and eat some food they had made to see if it would help at all. However, even after this, my heart rate was still above 100 bpm and I still had chest pain, so my mom made the call to bring me to the hospital. While on the way to the hospital, out of nowhere my heart rate increased to about 170-180 bpm, which freaked me out. We arrived at the hospital, and they immediately gave me an EKG to make sure I wasn't going to drop dead. During this time, I also was shaking a lot and couldn't make myself stop. Eventually they took me into a room and decided to run some tests on me. The tests they did are as follows: BASIC METABOLIC PANEL, CBC WITH DIFF, TROPONIN NH, D DIMER DEEP VEIN THROMB LEVEL, TSH REFLEX, X-RAY CHEST PA AND LATERAL, and ECG-12 LEAD. While I'm not a doctor, from what they told me and from what I can see, everything turned up pretty normal. My potassium was a smidge low, as well as my MCV and MPV, and my Monocyte (absolute) was a tad high, but generally nothing to worry about. The website where I'm viewing my test results display my ECG as abnormal and an attached document says I have left atrial enlargement as well as sinus tachycardia, but they only mentioned sinus tachycardia in the hospital so I assume that it was just the machine reading my test results and giving its own diagnosis. Long story short though, I left the hospital a few hours later, and although I still had a slightly elevated heart rate they said I was fine to go about life normally and to follow up with my cardiologist. Cut to the present, and I just met with my cardiologist a couple days ago. I gave him the general rundown of the above story (but didn't mention the edible as a precursor to the 190 bpm heartrate as my mom was in the next room over and the door was wide open), and after checking my vitals he told me that although I did have an elevated heart rate and high blood pressure, my chest pain probably wasn't a huge concern and that he wasn't too worried it was anything life threatening. He told me I could resume taking my meds (which I had temporarily replaced with ashwagandha supplements while I waited for the appointment and have since stopped taking), and had me wear a little device that monitored my heart rate for 24 hours, which I'm set to return in a couple days. He also told me that when I returned it he would check my results and give me an echocardiogram and go from there. So, with any luck, he should be able to figure things out then. However, I wanted to post this to see if anyone could help me get any ideas on what it could be that I could run by him to help speed things up. I also have a recent theory of my own that I want to hear advice on. I was doing research and discovered that Buspirone, when taken with other medication that increases serotonin, can cause serotonin syndrome. After another google search, I found out that weed can increase serotonin levels. The only hole in that theory is that I stopped taking Buspirone after the initial spike in heart rate / blood pressure but had no noticeable changes. Oh and one last thing, if you can't think of anything in regards to what could be causing my elevated heart rate, I actually would like to know why I'm ejaculating so fast so I can fix it because its gotten to the point where I can't even enjoy masturbating because of how fast I cum.
In case I missed anything, here's a list of my symptoms (although I have no idea if they're all correlated): - High heart rate (anywhere from 90-190 bpm) - High blood pressure - Chest pain / tightness on my left side and does not hurt more when I breath in / out (every now and then pain extends to my neck and shoulder) - Frequently tired - Insomnia (could be correlated with the above symptom lol) - Get out of breath faster than usual - Anxiety (already had this though) - Mild depression (probably from my breakup) - Lack of motivation (probably from my ADHD) - Very rare and random spasms in my neck - Probably something minor that I'm forgetting but if I can't think of it it probably isn't important (will update this list if new symptoms arise)
TLDR: I have a high heart rate and blood pressure and can't figure out why

Rules for the challenge:
Only take Yungoos as a starter, you can catch any Yungoos you find.
No save scumming.
Guide:
Yungoos hidden ability is adaptability. (2x STAB)
Gumshoos has 110 base attack, but is limited by 45 speed.
However, Yungoos also gets extreme speed as an egg move which is an 80bp priority move… (made 160 with adaptability)
Juice that mf up with proteins adamant nature and soul dews.
Run work up, crunch, yawn, and extreme speed.
Reroll for X items before big battles.
Get a map early and cycle through friendly biomes (try to avoid rock ghost and steel types). -I cycled through plains, grass, Forrest, etc to beat up on grass types. -Strong jaw build actually isn’t bad either for the yungoos you catch, especially with fire fang or ice fang TM to OHKO grass types in double battles.
Oh yeah and I forgot the best part: UNLOCK HUGE POWER AS A PASSIVE (doubles attack stat).
So extreme speed is essentially 320 base power (I know that’s not actually how it’s calculated).
Load the carry with berries (important for setup in 145 and 195 to OHKO Rayquaza). -I recommend just resetting the run if the rivals starter has any fighting type moves. -They had meganium in the run I complete, so it was pretty safe to spam work up.
For trainer battles, set up with work up when it’s safe to do so, then extreme speed sweep everyone.
MAKE SURE TO STAY ON TOP OF PP WITH ELIXIRS FROM THE STORE - E speed is a 5 PP move by default, I lost a few runs to this.
Obviously PP up E speed when possible.
For the final boss fight:
Ngl I just got super lucky with 2 focus band procs and Eternatus missing the first eternabeam at the start (0.1% odds). Stack up focus bands if possible, cause you’ll probably need them. On your non carry Gumshoos, run yawn and super fang cause super fang takes an entire chunk of the health bar. I only found one other Yungoos, but a more full team could honestly get it done pretty easily as long as the carry is alive for the final blow with extreme speed. With more Gumshoos, all you need is to enter phase 2 with the carry, swap it out for one with super fang, then just spam yawn/super fang until it’s low enough to clean up with extreme speed. Only the one you bring as a starter will have extreme speed (and likely adaptability) since it’s an egg move so it needs to stay alive.

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

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

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

First off, my understanding of physics is limited since I'm studying biology, but it's always been something I found interesting. I know this is a huge question to ask and I will be adding several details as to clarify what I mean, but if this isn't the right place for such a question, I'm sorry and feel free to point that out to me.
Context
For years now, I've been pretty familiar with the concept of abiogenosis (emergence of life from non-life) from a biological angle, we have several ideas, but we still don't know what the exact conditions necessary are, or even how with the exact conditions necessary, it could "become alive".
Unfortunately, physics is even less helpful in that case. Physical phenomena themselves don't seem to have much correlation with biology, despite their obligatory involvement in its emergence. I know a thing or two about biology, but I can't possibly verify the veracity of any classical mechanics or fundamental properties of the universe, which is what brings me here. Let's start with my reasoning:
Life as a More Energy-Efficient State
The second law of thermodynamics states that the total entropy of a given isolated system always tends to increase overtime, but that this does not prevent local decreases in entropy. A really great example of this is living organisms. Indeed, life is remarkably effective at using energy from its environment to build and maintain complex structures, therefore reducing local entropy.
However, while life decreases entropy locally (within the organism), it can only do so by increasing the overall entropy of its environment. For example, absorbing sunlight or food (low entropy energy) also means the release of high-entropy energy (i.e., heat and biological waste). Therefore, life absorbs and releases energy, contributing to an overall increase in entropy.
The Emergence of Life
If it turns out this is true and that physical properties of the universe fundamentaly "strive" for maximum entropy and that life indeed accelerates the rate by which entropy increase, then abiogenosis and evolution might be consequences of the universe's trend towards reaching maximum entropy. If life is really a more energy-efficient state of matter, then under the exact right conditions, it's possible that it could spontaneously arise (become alive) as part of the universe's progression towards more energy-efficient states that are better at efficiently dissipating energy (increasing entropy). Billions of years ago, on Earth, basic molecules that used energy more efficiently might have formed more complex structures that eventually lead to life, which is simply a better way of increasing entropy than non-living
Therefore, the emergence of life might possibly not be the miraculous anomaly we all think it is, but an incredibly rare and natural phenomenon caused by the fundamental physical law of increasing entropy in the universe.
Conclusion
I have no idea if any of what I just said made any sense to anyone out there, but at least I hope I've made something that's readable. In no way do I think that if true, it takes away from the significance and incredible beauty of life or even impact its rarity. This is just a potential explanation of (or one of) the fundamental purpose that life has within our universe, based on a more physical approach that still holds up and correlates with what biology has taught us.
If anyone out here is aware of a similar theory or research about a physical explanation of life, please tell me! I definitely know I'm not the first one to think about this, I'm not special, just obsessed with the universe and life, lol.
Thanks.

It if my belief that the hardest liberal ideal to uphold is not property rights or free-markets but pluralism. This is because the instinct to demonize and distance oneself from one's enemies is overwhelmingly strong, driven by pride, fear, anger, and disgust. But we should stand against these impulses, for the very core of democracy relies on people and groups of different to engage and hash out a plan for the future. With that in mind, I would like to make a case that one of the most powerful and useful things a principles neoliberal can do is bridge build.

What is Bridge Building?

Bridge-building is not rigorously defined because it's pretty new, but it comes from very old human instincts: curiosity and a desire for authentic connection.
Curiosity is not just a desire for knowledge, but a desire to expand one's view of the world and a practice of being an ever-enthusiastic learner. Curiosity does not have to be about facts but also about new experiences and ways of thinking. To be curious about a person is not necessarily wanting to know their social security number, but how they came to where they are in life and how they see the world. Curiosity is not just touching grass, but appreciating the park's beauty. If I were not curious, I would likely have noped out of this subreddit based on the name alone. But because I was, I read the sidebar.
It is my belief that people have an innate desire to be heard, to be seen and respected. And although it is diminished as of late, people also have the capacity to truly connect to others on a deeper-than-superficial level. This is hard online, but much easier in the real world. This desire and capacity for connection can help people overcome great differences and sprout the seeds of a great friendship.
Based on these two principles, Bridge-Building is a movement to ease polarization by connecting people of different backgrounds and groups together to foster greater understanding. The goal is not to reduce disagreement, but to make it more productive.

Why should Neoliberals Aim to Bridge Build?

Yeah, why should we? If we know best, why should we listen to those chumps? After all, I already have a name for everyone to right and left of me: wrong.
For one, do we really know best about everything? In the Socratic Dialogue Meno, Socrates and the politician Meno discuss the nature of virtue. During a debate on whether virtue can be taught, Meno asks Socrates this:

And how will you enquire, Socrates, into that which you do not know? What will you put forth as the subject of enquiry? And if you find what you want, how will you ever know that this is the thing which you did not know?

Here in lies Meno's Paradox: how do you know if you need to learn? If you already have that knowledge, you do not need to look any longer. And if you don't, then you have no idea what you're searching for. Socrates uses the idea of inbuilt knowledge as his answer, but I have another one which may strike more directly to the interests of liberals: simply assume that your knowledge is incomplete, and seek a more complete picture. Given all the knowledge in the world out there and all the things have yet to be discovered, it is unlikely that you or any other person has the complete picture on even a single issue.
But even if we do not know everything, if there value in learning from those of different views of us? I say that there is, and I will use another famous parable, this time from Buddhism, to illustrate my point. In this story, a kind invites a group of blind men to experience something that they have never encountered before: an elephant. When each blind man has felt a part of the creature, the king asks them to describe what they are touching. The man touching the foot says that the thing is a pillar, the man touching the trunk says it is a plow, the man touching the tip of the tail says a brush, and so on. The blind men cannot agree on what they are all touching, and so start an ancient version of a flamewar which entertains the king. In this story, the elephant is "The Truth", if such a thing exists. Although we all come in contact with the truth and with reality, we each come at it at different angles, like how the blind men are touching different parts. This means that while our individual perspectives are incomplete, they can be put together as a much more complete picture. People who remember the "wisdom" of the crowds should also recognize the powerful insights that can come from non-experts, especially as a group. Neoliberals who aspire to be "evidence-based" should not just gather evidence from different sources, but learn about different ways of thinking from others, or else they would be like one blind man squeezing the elephant's gonads really hard and thinking he's touching a balloon.
Hoewver, there are a lot of people who will reply to this very post and say, "isn't it dangerous to engage with certain people? What about those who are too stupid and hateful to learn?". Firstly, you should never bridge build if you feel unsafe. However, feeling unsafe is not the same as feeling uncomfortable, and discomfort may help you shake out of old patterns. Secondly, the foremost goal of substantive discussion is not to teach but to learn: even if the other party is too stupid to learn, if you are able to listen and learn you will have gained from the conversation. This may not always work out, but I promise you that when it does the effect is magical.

How do you Bridge Build?

This is the hard part. I haven't fully figured it out myself, but I have some pointers:

1. Be patient. People, especially people on the internet, are no the most eloquent speakers. Struggling to find the right words or having incorrect grammar and spelling should not be taken as signs of being dumb babies not worth talking to. Additionally, try not assume all of what people are based on snippets of information.
   
2. Be polite. Avoiding infamatory remarks ("You can't even read a supply and demand graph") and ambiguous slogans ("From the river to the sea, drugs will be free!") and try to keep the focus on the issues instead of the other person (or what you assume of the other person).
   

3.Stand up for your beliefs. Common ground is only real if it is earned. Be upfront about what you believe and how you came to believe those things. Anything else would be a disservice to the other party.

1. Follow your curiosity. Try to ask questions in good faith instead of as traps (although I admit I do this a lot). Who knows where the inquiry will go?

But if that's too hard or ambiguous, there's a lot of help out there. Here are some organizations and projects that specialize in bridge-building:
Braver Angels: They host workshops, debates, and other events for bridging divides. I also like their A Braver Way Podcast. They also happen to be associated with one American Purpose Magazine.
One Small Step by StoryCorps: If you sign up, they may match you with someone they think you will have a fruitful conversation with.
National Institue for Civil Discourse: Come on, one of the founding Co-Chairs was Bill Clinton, and a former board member was H.W. Bush.
There are many more, so feel free to search for yourself. So, why not try building some bridges? They're an important piece of infrastructure.

I'm hoping at least someone sees this and checks out the full AU, I might even start posting it on other sites, But it will always be here first. Also, a lot of stuff is gonna be left out from their full character, You just need to read it to find out more! Archangel OMORI/バフォメット. To understand him, you first have to understand the lore of this version of HS. Basically headspace is a manifestation of people's dreams, But it's connected. Just some people [like sunny] Have more influence than others. Just to confirm, omori/バフォメット/gabriel stand in Isn't human and is some psychic entity With a lot of influence on headspace. Also, he speaks in the third person! HS BASIL, The only remnant of "old headspace". Basically, old headspace was the generation before the one we're currently on (Think of if The Basil and the base game understood what happened in the headspace before the one we play in). This also works 'cause he's kind of our stand in for Noah (yknow in interlude where Noah avoids Gabriel's message, And accepted the first alternate on the arch? here, He kinda became more aware That he was in headspace and refused OMORI, So he had to accept a photo of the first something.) HERO: Although he's not very important in himself, He is lynched to the more important characters. Pretty obvious he's the stand in for mark. MARI: Not actually human (a something, But she gained compassion from the friend to group, and eventually put up a little plan to stop whatever OMORI/バフォメット is up to) and MMMIGGGGHHHHTTTTT have killed the real baby mari. She is the stand in for both Caesar and the intruder. SUNNY: Basically, after the MARI and HERO case, hero [oofed] himself, and MARI " Disappeared". Eventually, when he got old enough, he joined the hooligans [and got KEL to join!].... But left it after the events of VOL 2. Of course, he's the stand in for adam, And don't ask how he basically aggressively took over the hooligans and turned them into a Entire group instead of just some friends. KEL: Still, very good at heart, Just turned a little aggressive because he's frustrated that SUNNY Has a complete lack of fear [he just cares!] Also, unlike the person he's standing in, Jonah, He's actually alive! But tormented by HEROs alternate. There are more characters, but they haven't appeared yet.

Hello, everyone!
First, allow me to introduce myself. I IS CISCO, and I make animations on YT. I want to do long form story time animation content. Over the last 5 months, I have found that this is a very time consuming niche to pursue. I have resorted to making short form memes just to keep my channel alive in between uploads.
With that said, over the past couple of weeks I have seen a few post asking if animation is worth pursuing with monetization in mind. The simple answer in NO. This genre of videos is not worth pursuing for those that expect instant gratification. Anyone who does YT (regardless of genre) will always tell you that monetization should always be an afterthought.
However, the emotional satisfaction is sure as hell worth it. I can't imagine a better feeling than watching your drawings move and tell a story. Even if its just an "animatic", I enjoy watching peoples charming characters play out a scene. Trust me, the satisfaction of people enjoying what you made, makes all the effort and time worth it.
If there is any YT animators reading this, I want to see your channels. Lets keep each other motivated.
P.S: Some useful resources to post WIPs or finished videos since you can't post them here. animation and StorytimeAnimation
TL;DR: Animation channels are not for those trying to make a quick buck, but its one of the most satisfying niches to be a part of.

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.

I swap around games I play a lot, so a subscription model won't work for me, as I may play the game for a day, a week (rarely) a month, then I'll put it down for a week or month or more before playing again.
aka I'm the guy that has several games on the go at once.
.
I like the MMO style of games, I enjoy seeing others running around etc, but generally I like to play solo, mostly because I'll jump on and off during a session as real life dictates.
I'm happy to buy the game (Lost Epoch), Happy for cosmetic micros (PoE),
I don't want Pay2Win, Gatcha, pay2play etc And no subscriptions.
Can people suggests some MMOs?
. I know of
Last Epoch is fun, but I don't see any other players around
Path of Exile, I found the colour scheme a bit dark, the gameplay itself was fun, but the mini map was horrendous, when PoE2 comes out I'll be playing Diablo 3 is a bit to arcadey for me
Diablo 4 I tried during a free weekend and didn't grab me
Elder Scrolls Online I bought when it first released & found it kinda buggy, I should try it again
Eve Online looks amazing, but seems I'd need to commit a lot of time and regular time which I can't do
Temtem is fun
Secret World Legends is apparently monetised up the wazoo

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

Nietzsche often wrote about "ranks" of men, as has been mentioned since Plato. Like Plato, N believes that these men would form an aristocracy and would appreciably benefit from alliances with other powerful members of the nobility. But what about nobility of the spirit?

It is only a firm, unshakeable conviction of pre-eminent worth and special value which makes a man proud in the true sense of the word,—a conviction which may, no doubt, be a mistaken one or rest on advantages which are of an adventitious and conventional character: still pride is not the less pride for all that, so long as it be present in real earnest. And since pride is thus rooted in conviction, it resembles every other form of knowledge in not being within our own arbitrament. Pride's worst foe,—I mean its greatest obstacle,—is vanity, which courts the applause of the world in order to gain the necessary foundation for a high opinion of one's own worth, whilst pride is based upon a pre-existing conviction of it.
It is quite true that pride is something which is generally found fault with, and cried down; but usually, I imagine, by those who have nothing upon which they can pride themselves. In view of the impudence and foolhardiness of most people, anyone who possesses any kind of superiority or merit will do well to keep his eyes fixed on it, if he does not want it to be entirely forgotten; for if a man is good-natured enough to ignore his own privileges, and hob-nob with the generality of other people, as if he were quite on their level, they will be sure to treat him, frankly and candidly, as one of themselves. This is a piece of advice I would specially offer to those whose superiority is of the highest kind—real superiority --

Schopenhauer (The Wisdom of Life, Ch 4., 2), surmised the importance of a sense of self-worth, and the resentment that can emerge without it. And Nietzsche, acting as a psychologist, diagnosed many of these pitiable untermensch, these chandala, as bitterly resentful. The realization of his own lack of worth dooms a man to a life of resentment. And how will he sublimate this psychic injury? Through the tearing down of others, through harsh social penalties inflicted against any opposed to the submission to that decadent idea, the voice saying, "I am no better than others. Others have talents that I do not, even in those whom I can see no obvious aptitude."
A 3 would benefit more from tearing down a number above 5, for a more concrete example ("equality").
So, what say you, Overman? Are you brave enough to proclaim your own superiority? Or are you a meek one; or, perhaps, even, a resentful one.