Dollar tree gift ideas

Hey all. I am a 21yo F from the US (pst). It is quite late here and I am just coming up with this. I have been having a itch for a rp like this again. I am brainstorming as I type so it won't be a perfect flushed out prompt so sorry for that. Some context I write usually in third person can do first. I prefer romance but enjoy a slow burn and ROMANCE, I want the characters to have emotion and fall for each other. I tend to write multiple paragraphs and would love someone who is at least semi lit and puts in similar effort. Finally I am in university rn so my hours are off and on but I will try to respond a couple times a day. Finally I want this to be longterm so please be commited to it!
Now for the rp. I was having the urge to play a elf or dragon. As in one of those coom female dragons who appears as a humanoid. I saw a clip I think it was from dota, dont quote me. But this guy met this dragon and man was she hot as a human. Anyways 🤷‍♀️. I thought playing a race that maybe is more rare in this universe or less seen in the region. I was thinking magic would exist and we should discuss how it behaves. Like if you need ways to control it or some ar ejust gifted with it. I was thinking a fantasy universe similar to like dnd or lotr. With kingdoms and regions of different races. Your usual medieval fantasy type beat. As for the story I havent got there yet. I have some thoughts and would love to discuss it. But for a set plot I do not have one yet. So send me your ideas or I can share mine. I hope I dont deter you with my spur of the moment rp idea!

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I've done everything I can. Ive provided a home, security, free space, time, effort, walked away from opportunities, left jobs, offered to sell my home, tried to provide so you could get ahead. I've done absolutely everything.. I got off drugs, stopped drinking like a retarded fish, held a job, spent thousands of dollars just for a few days of time with you and kids, everything youve asked of me I've done.. yet you don't want to do this together.. raising these kids together means next to nothing to you.. over proximity of family.. I've rebuilt an entire home to be safe for all 3 of the kids including us.. you refuse to be together unless I make the trip (since dogs are more important or you're with her father).. you hardly involve me with OUR child.. so much so that idk what size diapers or clothing to send.. I'm so uninvolved in the life of my second son, your life and her life that i feel the only reason you answer or say I love you is so i keep providing things and stuff.. you'd rather be homeless in a car with dude than to be In our own home together.. I come over only to see what his family provides and gave as gifts.. you constantly see dude and get weed from him.. you looked me in the eyes and say i love you but wont give me more than a few minutes.. I mean nothing to you and it truly shows... I'm sorry Lee.. I really tried with my whole heart...
🍤

My parents gave my brother’s ex wife our grandmas engagement ring shortly after he proposed. She seemed upset to not have a fancy ring and they offered it to her to have remade if she wanted it. She took it but a week later her own grandma gave her the set she wore. She never once wore my grandmas and it was not her wedding set.
It’s also important to note she lived with my family (including that grandma) for several years and pretty much hated her.
She and I have always been OK but they divorced about a year ago now.
I had no idea the ex was ever offered the ring and recently asked my mom if I could have it to make something special with. She explained the ex has it and I’m devastated.
I want to ask her if she would consider giving it back. I know it was a gift and she’s by no means obligated to, but it would literally mean everything to me. We are on OK terms but I don’t want to start drama or hurt feelings.
Is it horrible for me to just ask? I feel so rude but again, this is such an important piece. I have been planning how to make it a memorial piece for years not knowing it was gone to someone who would never appreciate it or her memory.
I have no plans to start drama if she says no. I guess I just feel like I could let it go knowing I tried in a way that I can’t quite do just yet.

MUA Actually on the Cheap!
Let's talk budget friendly buys! Share your affordable favorites, hauls, reviews, deals, coupon/extra savings tips, and more!
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My bf and I are financially comfortable. We have stable jobs, stays with our parents and no other commitments. I love to travel and when we go on vacation, I pay for my share for everything. We had plans for two vacations this year to neighboring countries, and I suggested going on another vacation for this year but he told me that it was "excessive". I tried to find out what were his concerns but he did not share anything except that he thinks two vacations a year is sufficient. I asked if he would then be alright with me going on solo trips or with my family, but he was not agreeable to that, and this essentially meant that it is his way or the highway but after months of convincing him he reluctantly agreed to consider going on a third vacation.
My birthday was this week and in the days leading up to it I told him that I'm eyeing some skincare which is more expensive than what I would usually spend on. We have the tendency to be open about the gifts we want from each other as we prefer giving practical gifts, and we tend to not mind the cost of it as long as our gifts are put to good use. He mentioned to keep to the budget of three hundred which was too much since what I wanted cost lesser than that, hence out of curiosity I asked what made him derive that amount and he said "because fifty bucks would not be enough for you".
I was previously already upset when he said that going on three vacations a year is excessive, and this comment made me more upset because it felt that he is insinuating that I am too expensive to be in a relationship with. I told him that what he said do not sit well with me. He proceeded to throw a huge tantrum and raised his voice at me in public midway through our meal, berating me for starting an argument and stirring shit which caused me to breakdown and cry.
I walked away and returned after I have calmed myself down and tried explaining to him why I am upset and he proceeded to throw another tantrum at me and continously defended himself and said that he feels that what he said was ok and there is nothing wrong at all. I finally snapped too and told him that while he is entitled to his feelings, my feelings are as valid as his, and I am telling him that I am hurt by his words. I asked if he is telling me that his feelings are more important than mine and so what I feel don't matter at all? We went home in silence and after we got home, he transferred me a thousand dollars which further angers me. That was never the point, I never wanted his money. The fact that he still did not understand the reason why I was hurt even though I tried to explain it to him and just tried to resolve it with more money felt offensive to me.
I cried for hours thereafter and told him that if this relationship is becoming too expensive for him to sustain then perhaps we should just call it quits. I do not wish to sacrifice my freedom of being able to travel for someone who feels that I am only worth fifty dollars despite our years of being together and after standing by him all these while through hardships. I then transferred him his money back, adding a fifty bucks to it and I told him if I am only worth fifty bucks to him, I will pay him fifty to buy myself out of this relationship.
He has been asking to talk since but I don't see any point to it since the past two times we tried to speak ended up with him throwing tantrums at me. He said that he has been trying to make amends but I am not giving him the chance to but I pointed out to him that making amends starts from apologizing which he had not done so. Since then, he has been telling me how sorry he is over text and that is about it. I feel so dead inside because this was no longer the man I saw in him when we first got together. AITAH for not giving him another chance? Am I being too sensitive?

I came out of a psychosis episode today and now I am left with feeling like I am half in my body but not all the way there while my mind has bran fog and a pressure in my forehead. I feel guilty for subscribing to so much new age spirituality and I feel remorseful I ended up getting so lost in the proposed idea of "enlightenment" when in fact it was just spiritual psychosis.
I believed I was highly enlightened and everyone else was stuck in this thing I called a 'grid system' and no matter how much I tried to perceive their humanity, I still went back to this supposed idea of a grid system and 'Matrix' belief...... And I can only surmise I had maybe even FOUND THAT NIRVANA..... That Bodhi Tree.... But was lost in "I AM" instead of "WE ARE"..... Will try to figure this one out, slowly but surely.
This would have been my 2nd MAJOR psychotic break had I not caught it EARLY ON.
A lot of what I am realizing is that life is short, we all eventually die, and perhaps it is not wise to get so involved in organized religion when you have a knack for getting so psychotic, sick, and ill you end up having an external reality breakdown due to all of the seemingly exciting and adventurous sounding things that do arise with this western theology of spirituality.
I kind of already miss my psychosis. And I kind of wish I just took care of myself much better than I did over these past three months of living on my own in a 1`bedroom apartment.
God, that sucked. What sucked the most was having the self awareness early on that I was psychotic and having treatment resistance to a hospital or psych unit. I listened to a heal psychosis subliminal on loop, a brain fog subliminal, remove suicidal thoughts/depression subliminal, had a pagan friend of mine send REAL as well as ACTUAL calm and easing energy, and on top of the subliminals plus food I have eaten - I feel like I am getting better, slowly, but better nonetheless.
I don't know if any of what I am describing right now is a universal thing we all experience after coming out of our psychosis.
But I am fortunate for the pipe bombs I laid down in life's game of misery and insanity only to re-discover that sanity, my own personhood, and now.. To find out who I am, what I want to represent, and where I can go from here.
Thanks. May Creator watch over you all.

I want to clean up this patio and want some ideas on sealing off those huge openings with "something clear and reversible" because HOA doesn't allow me to install anything permanent (e.g. windows or walls) and I don't want to lose the view
Whenever there's a storm, the leaves from the trees around will literally fill this patio. Also, flies/bugs/spiders tends to hang out in this area so I hardly use this space to eat, and I want to be able to make this space useful
Any recommendation/ideas on sealing this area, and somehow get rid of the bugs/flies?

Lately I've been shocked by the difference between Palestinian messaging and how it is understood in the west. In their original 1988 charter, Hamas clearly lays out their goal of annihilating Israel and Jews through Jihad (Islamic Holy War).

'Israel will exist and will continue to exist until Islam will obliterate it, just as it obliterated others before it.' (Preamble)
'The Day of Judgment will not come about until Moslems fight Jews and kill them. Then, the Jews will hide behind rocks and trees, and the rocks and trees will cry out: 'O Moslem, there is a Jew hiding behind me, come and kill him.' (Article 7)
'The day the enemies usurp part of Moslem land, Jihad becomes the individual duty of every Moslem. In the face of the Jews' usurpation, it is compulsory that the banner of Jihad be raised.' (Article 15)

The magnitude of this anti-Jew and anti-Israel ideology is such that it is a core part of Palestinian youth education and media. There are many examples, but here are just a few. The first two would be humorous if they weren't so diabolical.
Hamas Mickey Mouse
Gazan Kindergarten Graduation Ceremony
Jews are barbaric apes
This propaganda has real-world effects. Dozens of Palestinian children are used as suicide bombers. To me, this might take the cake for some of the most ugly and perverse actions I've ever seen. I'd encourage people to read through this page if any.
Hamas's actions are in line with their stated aims. On October 7, Hamas and Gazan civilians can be seen celebrating over dead Israeli bodies. One video shows Gazans cheering, dancing, and spitting on dead naked Israeli woman, reflecting the fact that systemic rape on Oct 7 occurred. Over 70% of Palestinians support the actions on Oct 7. Hamas has promised to repeat Oct 7 again and again.
We also see this ideology reflected in the Palestinian Authority's "Pay for Slay", a fund that pays West Bank Palestinians a stipend for committing terrorism against Israel.
The point of sharing these things is not to demonize Palestinians or make any type of justification. The point is that in the west, we mistranslate this conflict into a framework that we comprehend and sympathize with. For most westerners, it's difficult to commiserate with religious fundamentalists and accept that they might want different things than we do (such as using billions of dollars in aid for terrorism instead of infrastructure). SJP would have you believe that Hamas wants to "decolonize" Palestine and Oct 7 was "resistance". Israel is the "white" oppressor, and Palestine is the oppressed--a framework we are all too familiar with. We assume that Hamas wants coexistence, when their words and actions have shown the opposite.
The "From the river to the sea" chant was created in the 60s and has historically been used by Hamas among other groups as a call to destroy Israel. A variation of the phrase in Arabic is "From the river to the sea, Palestine will be Arab". Yet in the west we associate the phrase with Palestinian "liberation", a concept that we can relate to. Consider the absurdity of someone waving a swastika and claiming that it's a Buddhist good fortune symbol. But this is essentially happening at colleges across the US, along with intifada chants. Israel's conduct in the war, modern settlements, and the failures of the Israeli government are different topics--I just wanted to elucidate how westerners downplay religious and ideological factors, despite Hamas themselves displaying their intent to destroy Israel and Jews.

Reposting here for posterity
Summary: Greens hits out at policies tailored for the wealthy, not the people; saying they are devoid of care and evidence. They said if they were delivering this year's budget, they would deliver the following by taxing wealth:

• An income guarantee for everyone
• Lift every family out of poverty
• More support for students or people out of work
• Extra help if you're sick or disabled
• Payments for families so kids can thrive
• More resourcing for the public service
• Free dental care
• Cheaper power bills
• Solar panels and batteries for homes
• Climate pollution reduction

Mā te oranga o te taiao, ka ora ai te iwi. Mō te takitini, kāore mo te torutoru anake. Ki te mana whenua o tēnei rohe, tū mai rā Ngāti Whātua, tēnā koutou. Ki a tātou e huihui mai nei, ko ngā moemoeā o te Pāti Kākāriki te take, nau mai, haere mai, whakatau mai.
Tenā koutou, tēnā koutou, tēnā tātou katoa.
Sixteen million dollars.
That’s how much the coalition parties raised to win last year’s election.
Ten million for National.
Four million for Act.
Just under two million for New Zealand First.
Sixteen million dollars.
From property developers and business tycoons who have built their wealth by exploiting our natural environment.
To companies who profit from digging up our whenua and overfishing our oceans - activities that cause significant harm to our precious ecosystems.
Sixteen million dollars helped to put this government into power.
And in a little less than two weeks, the coalition government will unveil its first budget.
It has clearly been difficult for them to put it together.
To the right, Act is trying to fire all the people who make our public services work, while in their own cooker corner New Zealand First hoards 1.2 billion dollars for hand-chosen pet projects.
The Coalition has found half a billion dollars for new defence spending, but cancelled projects to improve buses and trains in Auckland and Wellington.
They’re borrowing billions to cover the cost of cutting taxes for wealthy property investors, because they’ve realised that the promises they made during the election campaign were slapdash and expensive.
Meanwhile, people with the least face ever higher costs.
Bus fares have already gone up.
Rents continue to rise, while the government is giving tax breaks to landlords instead of investing in more public housing.
So on Budget Day, when we see what the coalition has been able to cobble together, I want you to remember: sixteen million dollars.
What’s in the Budget for the people who paid for National’s election campaign?
And what could have been in the budget instead if Aotearoa had a Government that prioritised people and planet?
Because I am not here for the relative few who donated those sixteen million dollars.
I am here for the many, including the 330,000 people who trusted the Green Party with their votes last year.
And I want to thank you all once again.
Your voices will continue to be heard.
You told us you wanted us to fight for an Aotearoa where everyone can get by, where our native wildlife and oceans thrive, where we take bold climate action, and where we honour Te Tiriti o Waitangi.
That is what we are doing. And we will be loud. And we will be staunch as always.
I am here for those who cannot sit by while the government tries to take the country backwards on the issues that matter most.
While the goal of a smoke-free generation goes up in smoke.
While new coal mines are dug into our precious conservation land, even as the Prime Minister claims to want to achieve climate change targets.
While the few with extraordinary wealth get what they want, at the expense of everyone else.
The Greens have always been, and will always be, the voice for a different kind of politics.
A politics centred in justice through honouring te Tiriti o Waitangi, not using it to drive a wedge in our communities.
A politics that celebrates the potential our country could live up to if it was grounded in manaakitanga and equity.
That acknowledges the richness of generations of tangata whenua and tangata tiriti working together to care for our whenua and collectively enjoying the fruits of mahitahi.
Where we protect Papatūānuku out of aroha for her, and respect that her wellbeing is also what keeps us alive.
Where we share what we have so everyone in Aotearoa can live a good life.
Everything the Greens won over the last two terms in government with Labour was hard fought. Governments must make tradeoffs. But Governments are defined by their choices.
And right now, the coalition is making theirs clear.
If the Greens were delivering this year’s budget, I’ll tell you what would be in it.
An income guarantee, so no matter what, everyone has what they need to live a decent life.
We could lift every family in Aotearoa out of poverty, and give people the peace of mind that they’ll be supported if they fall on tough times.
More support for students and people out of work, extra help if you’re sick or disabled, and simple payments for families so all kids can thrive.
Free dental care.
Successive governments have let basic dental healthcare get so expensive, that forty percent - forty percent! - of people avoid going to the dentist.
It’s just too expensive.
In Aotearoa, we could choose to resource our public health services - funded by taxes on wealth, so that everyone can be looked after when they need it.
And if the Greens were putting together the Budget, it would fund our plan to make your homes warmer while cutting down your power bills AND climate pollution.
Solar panels and batteries for homes to store the sun’s free energy, taking pressure off the power grid.
But this year, with the help of sixteen million dollars from some of the wealthiest people in Aotearoa, National, Act, and New Zealand First have the privilege of making those decisions.
And I say to them, what are you going to do with it?
You have the choice to end poverty.
Or to give tax breaks to landlords.
To give back more to people who earn their living, instead of tax breaks for people who own more houses than they need, and who already get untaxed capital gains.
You have the choice to invest in solar power, or open up new coal mines.
The choices people make when they have power show us what they are motivated by. These choices define the world they want to create.
So today I want to talk with you about what motivates the Green Party.
Ko te mana o Te Tiriti.
Ko te oranga o te Taiao.
Ko ngā tūmanako mō ngā tamariki.
We are motivated by generations of movements and leaders who have pushed for the sovereignty of tangata whenua guaranteed by te Tiriti o Waitangi.
A partnership on which this country was built, despite the continuous breaches by the Crown partner.
The Green Party is a Tiriti party.
Our leadership is a partnership between tangata whenua and tangata tiriti.
Our work seeks to honour the commitments made generations ago, to prosper together.
Our commitment to Tiriti justice is absolutely integral to everything the Greens do - just as it is integral to the future of Aotearoa.
Tino rangatiratanga is at the heart of healing relationships across communities and reconnecting all of us with our seas, our rivers, our bush, our mountains, and our whenua.
And central to our vision for a Tiriti-based future, is our commitment to restoring and protecting nature.
Because nature is in crisis.
Just out these doors, and below our feet, in the Hauraki Gulf, the impacts of commercial overfishing and the pollution washing into the water from the land, has brought the ecosystem to the brink.
North and west of here, great kauri are critically threatened.
To the south, unique animals found in no other country, are at risk from the bulldozers of mining companies, unless we protect them.
Four thousand different native species are at risk of extinction in Aotearoa.
Four thousand.
We can turn that around, but it takes commitment. It takes effort. It takes mahitahi. And it takes choices. Choices that put people and planet first, instead of a cynical politics that serves the short-term interests of wealthy donors.
If the government chooses not to prioritise restoring the health of the natural world in its first budget, that shows what they are motivated by, and it shows what kind of world they are prepared to leave to our tamariki.
It is our tamariki and mokopuna that motivate the Greens.
Not just the ones born tomorrow, but those after that, for seven generations down the line.
Sustainability doesn’t just mean sustainability for nature, but for people too. This planet is our home. We need it to thrive.
The Greens have always been deeply motivated by care for other people, for communities, for those with us today and for those who will come after us.
We are motivated by every single child who goes to bed hungry tonight.
We are motivated by every single adult who isn’t sure how they’ll pay the rent or mortgage next week.
As winter hits, we are motivated by every person who sits in the cold, staring at the heater, knowing they can’t afford to turn it on.
Our challenge to the coalition government is to prove that you are motivated by this too.
Choose to do something about it.
The solutions to many of the problems we face in Aotearoa are clear. This week I had the privilege of meeting with rangatahi, and hearing about the solutions they want to see in their communities. They are THE experts in their own experience - and they know they need to be empowered and given better opportunities; not marginalised, patronised, ignored, and punished.
But the coalition government doesn’t like those solutions, because they don’t fit its agenda. They prefer catch phrases like “social investment”, to real data and lived experience.
A Government which says it is motivated by evidence-based solutions has cut funding to the world class Growing up in New Zealand study, and continues to ignore the evidence it provides. Like the evidence that 40% of children live in the most deprived areas.
If this government was truly invested in improving social outcomes, it would affirm and resource the experts who know best and have proven the most.
And that includes empowering the people with the lived experience of the systems failing them and their whānau. It requires removing all the barriers to wellbeing such as poverty and homelessness. We need to support whole whānau, instead of focusing on ‘fixing’ an individual after they’ve already been broken by poverty and neglect, and expecting them to rise above circumstances of deprivation that we should have all worked together to prevent in the first place. We need the solutions to be grounded in community knowledge and care. I hope this government is open to sitting with kai rangahau Māori and families to learn more about what really needs to change.
When the Crown has repeatedly failed to be accountable for the harm it has caused to whānau Māori, it is clear that we need an authentic transfer of power and resources - with a partnership of a strong public and social services sector working together, with communities, hapū and iwi, and whānau.
I have seen what works to support people off a destructive path in life. To instead become the best of themselves. There is a mountain of evidence about approaches that work where all other attempts have failed - particularly where there is deep trauma.
These approaches, like Kaupapa Māori interventions, build the strength of whānau and community.
Now for far too long, successive governments have been stuck on catch phrase politics, devoid of evidence or genuine care.
Policies like bootcamps for the young, benefit sanctions for the already struggling, higher criminal penalties - a punitive, petty politics that makes life harder for those already
excluded, and does nothing to keep communities safe and well. This is divisive, stale, cruel and ineffective.
When I have met and listened to the very people at the forefront of this cruelty, the impact has been clear.
Such punitive and dehumanising measures have instead caused even further disconnection and hopelessness. The Greens know that meeting trauma with punishment isn’t going to work. I want rangatahi to hear us loud and clear. You matter. Your whānau matters. You deserve dignity, a community and a country that sees your strength.
At a basic level, I think we all agree that identifying the causes of persistent hardship, and supporting people to get out of those situations, is a good idea.
And we all agree that the measure of a government’s success is whether it achieves outcomes, not how much money it spends on trying.
But the Government isn’t actually doing this.
Two weeks ago the Minister of Finance said her government will “use hard evidence to invest in what works.”
On that same day, the Minister of Social Development announced that people on a benefit will face financial sanctions if they don’t attend work seminars.
Let me be clear, work seminars don’t help people find jobs they’re suited for - let alone create meaningful work with decent pay and conditions. The Ministry of Social Development has told the Minister there is no evidence for the government’s cruel approach. Sanctions do not make a difference for the number of people moving into paid work.
And the evidence against sanctions is extremely clear.
Financial sanctions for beneficiaries, who already don’t have enough income to pay for life’s essentials, simply push people into further hardship.
That affects their children, their whānau, and their whole communities.
Instead, people need tailored support into work that matches their skills and interests, with a guaranteed income while retraining.
At the same time, the Government needs to invest in creating sustainable jobs that transition our economy away from fossil fuels.
Jobs with decent pay, secure hours and support for people to balance caregiving responsibilities. Jobs that support wellbeing for whānau, instead of seeing workers as just a cog in a labour machine.
When the Government rolls out policies like benefit sanctions, they are making a choice to ignore the evidence about the effect of their actions.
And it is our job to expose that.
I cannot say it enough: we have everything we need in Aotearoa for everyone to live a decent life.
We know what people need to rise up out of persistent hardship.
A warm, dry, affordable, and accessible home.
Healthy kai on the table.
The freedom to go to the doctor or the dentist when they need to, without having to worry about the cost.
And next week, the Government has a choice whether to put people at the heart of the budget - or not. If they don’t, they are holding back the potential of our people and our communities to thrive.
And we will ask, exactly who are they governing for?
The Greens are here for the many, not just the few.
We carry decades of political leadership with us, starting from the late Jeanette Fitzsimons and Rod Donald, through to our newest co-leader Chloe Swarbrick.
We are here thanks to the thousands upon thousands of volunteers over the last three decades.
The many grassroots-led movements who we are honoured to have worked with for the kaupapa.
We draw our strength from knowing we are powered by the many. This gives us the strength to oppose a government whose sixteen million dollars of political donations got them where they are today.
Thanks to our people-powered campaign, we have our largest Caucus ever.
And it represents Aotearoa more than it ever has before.
Green politics is the alternative to this cynical, cruel coalition government.
And we are only just getting started.

https://www.reveddit.com/neoliberal/comments/1curfoq/discussion_thread/l4mpnh
Full comment:
SMOKING HOT take, but I am pretty cool with the idea of zero dollars in federal grants and such going to religious schools that promote homophobia or whatever else the feds may find objectionable
Keep your weirdo shit going, good for you babe, but why are taxpayers supposed to fund it. You have religious freedom, not a religious right to government gibs
Edit: Damn I didn’t expect this to be controversial here, hmu with the counterarguments
- ZanyZeke

Dear friends, I offer all the sets from Collector Cache I/II 2022
I want to remind you that all sets from the Collector Cache can be transferred only as a gift if you are friends for more than 30 days according to the rules of Steam.
Therefore, for the purchase, you add my profile to friends, write to me, pay for the goods and wait 30 days. IT IS IMPORTANT that to buy a product YOU MUST PAY HALF AT THE TIME OF ORDER AND AT THE END.
I accept Dota2 item,Arcana,Csgo item and case for payment
There are Discounts - everything is negotiable.
My steam friend code - 147808829 or click on my name above!
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(Wraith King)---Crown of the Condor 4x (RARE) 10€
(Silencer)---Whispering Wings 5x (RARE) 10€
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(Legion Commander)---Bird of Prey 1x 7€
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(Treant Protector)---Grudges of the Gallows Tree 2x (RARE) 8€
(Anti-Mage)---Brands of the Reaper 1x (RARE) 20€
(Void Spirit)---Sublime Equilibrium 1x (VERY RARE) 37€

DISCLAIMER: I am a homeowner and consider myself a very capable person, but I am no financial master who understands all the ins and outs of how equity, and selling homes, and profit, and closing costs, etc etc, so if I miscalculate something in my very rough numbers below, feel free to let me know, but be cool.
I (28) own a house independently of my girlfriend (25). We’re DINKs (double income, no kids) with two 2 dogs and two cats. We will not be having children. I purchased my home for $206,500 and currently have around $170,000 left on my mortgage. My home is valued between $280-300k, so I currently have between $110-130k in equity. My mortgage (with insurance and taxes included) is $1250 a month.
A little about me, my number one goal in life is to retire as soon as possible, and live a moderate, comfortable life. I don’t enjoy my job and only do it because they pay me better than anyone else would and it pays my bills. I’d also be happy to live right where I am, in this home I bought for $200k, for the rest of my life, and don’t feel the urge to upgrade my living situation in many ways.
Long story short, I’m toying with the idea of selling my house, and downgrading to a home in the $100-150k range to either completely eliminate my mortgage, or reduce it greatly to only a few hundred dollars. For the sake of this hypothetical, I’m going to be assuming that I will have no mortgage after this move, but also did not profit on the sale. An even swap from my current house to the downgrade house. Now I have an additional $1250 in disposable income per month. Realistically I would funnel that money into any debts I currently have (mostly renovations to the home I would have just sold to purchase this one). So theoretically, in under a year, I’d be pocketing that extra $1250 a month.
So question 1: would you downgrade your home to eliminate your mortgage?
See below for question 2, or feel free to just answer question 1!
Say, after a year of using the extra $1250 per month to pay down bills and rebuild our emergency fund, we start funneling that money directly into a savings we intend to use to purchase additional properties. My girlfriend and I have always considered the idea of purchasing rental properties to create some passive income, with the hopes that we could eventually replace our salaries with the money we’re brining in from the rentals every month. This would allow us to retire (hopefully significantly) early.
Within 15 months of beginning to save, we theoretically would have nearly $20,000 saved up for the down payment on a new $100k house in the area. In my area, the mortgage would be approximately $650 per month. Say we rent it for $1000 per month, for a profit $450 per month. Now we’re up to $1,700 a month in profit ($1250 disposable income from having no mortgage, and the $450 in rent we’re collecting) from selling my original home. Now if I funnel all of that money into the savings, it’s only going to take 12 months to save up enough for another down payment on a $100,000 house. Rinse and repeat until we’re profiting enough to retire in x amount of years.
So question 2: if you WOULD downgrade your home to eliminate your mortgage, would you consider investing in real estate like I described above to work towards an early retirement?

Dear friends, I offer all the sets from Collector Cache 2021-2023, Immortal 2021-2022, other Mythical Set 2021-2024
I am not changing 1 cache set to another!!! Cache sets can be transferred only 1 time as a gift!!!

Hero	Set	Quantity	Price
Crownfall Tr. 1	Crownfall Tr. 1	Crownfall Tr. 1	Crownfall Tr. 1
Bloodseeker	Blood Raven	15	2.5$
Jakiro	Tines of the Pyreaxe	15	2.5$
Lina	Imperial Ember	15	2.5$
Disruptor	Designs of the Ancient Druud	15	2.5$
Nature's Prophet	Verdant Swarm	15	2.5$
Legion Commander	Phalanx of the Bronze Eagle	15	2.5$
Queen of Pain	Raven of Ristul	15	2.5$
Shadow Shaman	Eyes in the Endless Dark	15	2.5$
Wraith King	Crown of the Condor	6	5$
Silencer	Whispering Wings	6	7.5$
Meepo	Mocking Bird	2	20$
Crownfall Tr. 2	Crownfall Tr. 2	Crownfall Tr. 2	Crownfall Tr. 2
Puck	Mischief of the Winter Moth	15	2.5$
Skywrath Mage	Highborn Heretic	15	2.5$
Tinker	Twitcher	15	2.5$
Pugna	Keeper of the Nether-Lens	15	2.5$
Naga Siren	Song of the Sea Lotus	15	2.5$
Omniknight	Lionheart	15	2.5$
Keeper of the Light	Flight of the Gryphon Lord	15	2.5$
Ancient Apparition	Crystalline Crown	15	2.5$
Hoodwink	Birdfeed Bandit	6	7.5$
Zeus	Thunderbird	6	5$
Drow Ranger	Ravencloak	2	25$
Ursa	Owly Bear	1	15$
Coll Cache 23	Coll Cache 23	Coll Cache 23	Coll Cache 23
Primal Beast	PRIMEVAL ABOMINATION	16	4$
Dawnbreaker	ASTRAL HERALD	22	3$
Abaddon	SPECTRAL SHADOW	23	3$
Alchemist	TAUR RIDER	24	3$
Spectre	CRESCENT HUNTRESS	17	4$
Wraith King	TYRANT OF THE VEIL	20	3$
Hoodwink	TOMO'KAN FOOTSOLDIER	25	3$
Death Propet	DARKWOOD EULOGY	26	3$
Kunka	SEA SPIRIT	18	4$
Legion Commander	TRIUMPH OF THE IMPERATRIX	18	4$
Storm Spirit	BEAST OF THUNDER	19	4$
Jakiro	ANCESTRAL HERITAGE	24	3$
Dazzle	DEZUN VIPER	20	3$
MARCI	BRIGHTFIST	1	10$
Snapfire	SNAILFIRE	1	15$
Coll Cache I 22	Coll Cache I 22	Coll Cache I 22	Coll Cache I 22
Clockwerk	Seadog’s Stash	5	3$
Ursa	Trophies of the Hallowed Hunt	1	4$
Phoenix	Crimson Dawn	3	3$
Terrorblade	Forgotten Station	1	4$
Undying	Dirge Amplifier	4	3$
Monkey King	Champion of the Fire Lotus	3	3$
Witch Doctor	Deathstitch Shaman	6	3$
Coll Cache II 22	Coll Cache II 22	Coll Cache II 22	Coll Cache II 22
Silenser	Grand Supressor	1	3$
Alchemist	Darkbrew's Transgression	3	3$
Night Stalker	Feasts of Forever	1	4$
Vengeful Spirit	Acrimonies of Obsession	1	4$
Clinkz	Withering pain	3	4$
Ogre Magi	Freeboot Fortunes	2	3$
Treant Protector (Rare)	Grudges of the gallows tree	1	10$
Dead Reckoning	Dead Reckoning	Dead Reckoning	Dead Reckoning
Lina	Dead Heat	1	5$
Anti Mage	Spectral Hunter	1	5$
Dawnbreaker	Dying Light	2	5$
Sniper	Expired Gun	1	5$
Medusa	Death Adder	1	5$
Viper	Soul Serpent	1	5$
Coll Cache 22	Coll Cache 22	Coll Cache 22	Coll Cache 22
Chen	Perils of the red banks	3	4$
Coll Cache 21	Coll Cache 21	Coll Cache 21	Coll Cache 21
Enchantress	Caerulean Star	2	4$

I have been trading honestly for 3 years - all my reputation and merits are in my profile on the wall.
I want to remind you that all sets from the Collector Cache can be transferred only as a gift if you are friends for more than 30 days according to the rules of Steam.
Therefore, for the purchase, you add my profile to friends, write to me, pay for the goods and wait 30 days. IT is IMPORTANT that in order to buy a product, YOU MUST PAY WHEN ORDERING.
I accept Dota2 item, Arcana, Tf2 Key, Steam Gift Card for payment
There are Discounts - everything is negotiable.
My SteamRep [SteamRep]
My steam profile [Steam Profile]

"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.