I dont know if this is thr right place to ask but i feel like everywhere i look it just isn't safe but ive been talking to the councilotherapist that my college provides for free (its included in tuition) and while filling out the forms i did click that i have attempted but left out any other information reguarding said attempt blank. While we were talking she just asked how i attempted and if i was hospitalized, i also mentioned a situation i was in where i might have been groomed as a minor and i just want to know if they will change my records to note that i indeed have attempted because i dont want it there, i currently dont have insurance so im not going to any healthcare facilities but when i did my mom would take me and would always know what was going on and also im scared that the therapist might tell someone about the situation i was in im an adult now but i really dont want to hurt or press charges against those people or anything if she even suggest something like that i just feel really conflicted about being honest about stuff with them i just want to be safe

HOWDY Partners 🤠 I type this important message from the southern region of the United States. If your lookin for someone who will respond back to your messages in 1.2 milliseconds, well look no further. My interest include and are not limited too (if our hobbies are different please tell me about yours I’m always looking for new ones for my ADHD brain): •Gaming, of course who doesn’t game in this day in age. •Watching 10 movies in a row and not feeling bad about it. •Blasting music at night daydreaming scenarios in my head staring at the blank void filled walls. I have a ton more but I’d figured I’d save them for the meat of our chat. Hope to hear from whatever soul is reading this post. Peace and Love ✌️&❤️

Cheers all. I wanted to do a new night closer to where I live and was fortunate enough to find a suitable venue with great aesthetics and vibe. The first one was in early March and went way beyond what I expected for a city that has never seen it. 50+ people packed into an intimate back room with really good sound and projected visuals is what happened. The next one is in a couple weeks. I'm really excited!
Here is my set that I assembled on Spotify after listening to the recording. None of this was pre-planned as I like to read the crowd always. You can see/hear how the first 10 songs sit at an intentionally lower energy level. As I was trying to give space for people to arrive, belly up to the bar and settle in. Afterwards you can hear an energy shift and it's an ebb and flow from there. Most of what I play veers less towards goth rock and more in a darkwave direction. Lots of synths and drum machines. So I am hoping to play more things in the gothic rock vein next time. Things going well means I may have the budget to bring in guests who fill in the blanks of my own style. Anyway here is the full setlist. Only a couple things from here missing from Spotify. Thanks for reading and listening! 🖤
new order - the him
depeche mode - monument
tones on tail - lions
the frozen autumn - evening falls
hante - lies/light
siouxsie - the sweetest chill
the march violets - 1 2 I love you
southern death cult - moya (mercer mix)
japan - fall in love with me
medicine - time baby III
drab majesty - dot in the sky
principe valiente - strangers in the night
the danse society - heaven is waiting
the cure - play for today
actors - l’appel du vide
this is the bridge - no crime
red lorry yellow lorry - talk about the weather
xkat - the end
tst - colossal
health - identity
milliken chamber - figure in the night
the kvb - labyrinths
new order - blue monday
depeche mode - new dress
lovataraxx - ana venus
delta komplex - empty souls
christian death - spiritual cramp
corpus delicti - saraband
figure section - spectre
tones on tail - performance (7” mix)
twin tribes - monolith
13th chime - dug up
concrete blonde - bloodletting
boy harsher - lost
luminance - dimension wide
automelodi - la cigale
geneva jacuzzi - casket
oppenheimer analysis - subterranean desire
kaelan mikla - svört augu
give my remains to broadway - what a horrible night
second still - eternal love
portishead - cowboys
ministry - we believe
spike hellis - teardrops (moon 17 mix)
marion - I go to sleep

The Old Quarter

Bit of a long post but I thought this could be a cool idea and I wanted to share it:
Description:
"Even before the current troubles, the Old Quarter was a favoured haunt of vagabonds, vagrants and those with ill-intent. Nestled beneath the towering estates of Cathedral Row, the streets of the Old Quarter are a twisting and cramped warren. Constructed in the early days of the city, the Old Quarter was built haphazardly to accommodate the city's rapidly expanding population.
In recent times, the Old Quarter has become downright sinister. A permanent, sleazy fog hangs over the area and residents report a strange figure peering through their window at odd hours. The Constables abandoned the district soon after the current crisis began. The Huntsmen now patrol the main street and control a few key landmarks, including the power-station and the old jailhouse. But even they are loathe to venture into the dank passages where the light never reaches.
Tread carefully here Dr. and take care if you happen to hear tapping at the window..."
Explanation:
This is an idea I have had for a while about how parts of the demo area could be reincorporated into the main-game. I think that the main-game is far superior to everything in the demo but the cramped and winding streets of the demo area are still fun to explore and the feeling of being boxed-in really helps contribute towards a feeling of claustrophobia which isn't quite present in the open-spaces of the Market District.
Instead of collecting seals to open the manor in the town square, the Dr. would need to find several puzzle items to progress. These items would open the portcullis gate on the other side of the guard post in the demo. The Sylvian estate (manor from the demo) would serve as an optional area with heightened security which could be broken into. Other side-streets, alleys and passages which were only partly accessible in the demo would also be opened-up as would several derelict buildings. This would include opening up the play-space above the flooded basement where the monocle can be found in the demo.
The Old Quarter would serve as a prelude of sorts to the Cathedral row district. After sneaking through a factory/ warehouse complex, the Dr. would enter the lift to the Old Quarter and the section would begin in much the same way that the demo opens.
Note found before entering the Old Quarter:
“Sir,
As requested, we have sealed off the main routes into the Old Quarter and have set an automated sentry to guard the entrance to Cathedral Row. I have ordered our remaining forces to fallback accordingly. Let the Huntsmen deal with those creatures.
Constable Burlington.
“
Upon reaching the main save station-house from the demo, the windows would be heavily barricaded and the Dr. would instead be prompted to enter through a door which hangs open. In the main room of the safe-house the gramophone plays its soothing tune. Unlike in the demo, the house is devoid of huntsmen and, much like the lighthouse, a recorded message would play from the gramophone the first time it is used to make a save.
“Welcome to the Old Quarter Doctor. Our mutual friend informed me that you might pass this way but I regret that I \cough* will be unable to greet you in person. Help yourself to any supplies you find here. You will need them for what lies ahead. Before they left, the Constables destroyed every exit and left the Huntsmen to loot the ruins. The only way out is through the gate at the end of Stonehaven Road. But the lock is a fiendish thing and not easily cracked. I had a few ideas of how to get past it before *cough*… well it hardly matters now. I have barricaded this area as best I can but don’t forget: Lock The Doors and pray you never hear tapping at the window. Fare well Doctor. I hope your luck is better than mine.*
-William the Tinker”
Exploring the house, the Dr. finds the corpse of the owner beside which sits a key. The key is used to unlock and open the two doors of the safehouse. Beside each of the doors is a button which can be used to automatically seal the doors from the inside (think the safe room in Amnesia: The Bunker).
Also scattered throughout the house are a few food items, notes and a revolver with a number of spent casings. On the upstairs landing, in the room where there is a lootable cabinet in the demo, the unbreakable door is instead locked. The reason for this can be found in William’s diary which sits on his writing desk.
“I can no longer bear to look into that mirror she gave me. Sometimes I fear that it is not only my own reflection peering back. I have locked the accursed thing away and have cast the key into the sewers with the hope that there it will remain.”
To discover more about the Tinkers Lock, which is the primary obstacle of the district, the Dr. can read other pages in the diary and notes scattered throughout the house. On William’s writing desk there also sits a map which marks key places of interest in the district.
“I sit imprisoned by a mechanism of my own making. The lock is a fiendish thing. The three-digit combination is rewritten every sixty seconds, the only way to decode the sequence is by using a Graphite Cylinder. I had a spare but the Huntsmen confiscated it and are holding it in the Old Jailhouse as evidence. I believe that brute Fitzroy means to bring me to trial, though for what crime I cannot imagine. More difficult to obtain is the key needed to access the mechanism. Father Ulfred kept a copy … but none who venture near his church return.
There may be another way to open the gate but it is so dangerous as to constitute madness. The lock draws power from the two electrical substations on either side of the district. Disabling both generators is the first step. Then, theoretically, it should be possible to disconnect the lock by severing its link to the back-up supply. To do so, one would need to brave the labyrinth of maintenance tunnels beneath the streets. All while the entire district is plunged into darkness. It is suicidal folly, but without Father Ulfred’s Key I see few other options.”
The safe house from the demo serves as a base of operations through which further expeditions can be made into the district. The basic layout of the demo remains in that the player has the freedom to tackle the objectives in any order. However the area of the district is now expanded. Example, in the dock area, there is now an apartment before crossing the bridge where the Dr. can survey the area and learn patrols from a distance. Additionally, foggy streets leading on from the Dock will take the Dr. into the Western part of the district where the Western Substation sits alongside the abandoned butchery. Similarly, beyond the power station from the demo (the Eastern Substation) are more foggy streets which lead to Father Ulfred’s Chapel and the Clearview Lodging-House.
As in the demo, the Huntsmen control the main streets, the dock, the jailhouse, the Eastern Substation and have an outpost in the maintenance tunnels/ sewers as well as at the Western Substation. But a new foe prowls the dark and misty streets where the Huntsmen fear to tread.
The Peeping-Tom.
Appearing as an abnormally tall and slender gentleman in a top hat, these strange creatures stalk the Old Quarter. The Peeping-Tom (and the Old Quarter in general) take heavy inspiration from late-Victorian Whitechapel and the Jack-The-Ripper murders. The Peeping-Tom carries a large butcher’s knife in its left hand and prowls with murderous intent. Its face is ghost white and its tattered clothes barely cover an emaciated and skeletal form.
What sets the Peeping-Tom apart from other bestial enemies is that they display a form of crude intelligence and take care to harass and terrify their prey before striking. Additionally, the Peeping-Tom is sensitive to light and will become staggered from entering a well-lit area. This includes the light generated by the Doctor’s lantern.
In combat the Peeping-Tom is very damage resistant to bullets and slashes. However, removing the top hat of the Peeping-Tom (either by shooting or slashing it) reveals a spider-like insect nestled in the skull of the creature which can be shot/stabbed to instantly kill the Peeping-Tom. Flash-grenades are particularly effective against this enemy and a single flash grenade will vaporise the puppeteering-spider and thus kill the Peeping-Tom if its hat is removed.
In general, the Peeping-Tom moves in a slow and deliberate manner akin to the Divider necromorph in Dead Space. However, if the Peeping-Tom’ss hat is removed, its movements become erratic, and its attacks are faster and inaccurate.
After being staggered by a light-source, the Peeping-Tom will flee to a darkened area before trying to stalk the Dr. once more.
Another aspect of the Peeping-Tom is that they will attempt to unnerve the Dr. by leaning around corners and tapping on the windows of buildings the Dr. has entered using their long bony fingers. While they can exhibit this behaviour if the power-stations are still active, if the power is deactivated, the Peeping-Toms expand their patrols significantly and will harass the Dr. while he is in the safehouse. The Peeping-Toms can even enter the safehouse if the doors are left open&unlocked.
A crafty Doctor could even strategically deactivate the power to enable the Peeping-Toms to thin out the hunters and make certain areas more accessible.
Other areas and notes
In traditional Imsim fashion, notes scattered throughout the district (as well as conversations between huntsmen) would also fill in the lore and backstory of events which occurred prior to the Doctor’s arrival.
For example, the armoury in the central guard house would be locked and a note attached to the door would read as follows:
“You lot are welcome to continue wasting ammunition shooting the locals but you shall no longer be using my bullets to do so. The armoury is locked until further notice. Perhaps the scarcity will encourage you to find a way out of this mess.
-Captain Fitzroy”
The sewers and passages beneath the district would also be expanded. If the substations are deactivated then the passages will be almost completely dark, thus necessitating the usage of the lantern for purposes of navigation. Like the demo, the tunnels would be populated by the Crowmen. The dark tunnels would give them ample opportunity to stalk the Doctor and lie in ambush.
In the demo, there is also a sign in the sewers which refers to the Underport. This passage would serve as a way to link the Old Quarter and Underport together. The Dr. would be able to find a key in the sewers to the room in the main safe-house which houses one of the Countess’s mirrors for later fast-traveling back to the district.
No matter which method is chosen for tackling the Tinker’s Lock, the Dr. will have to venture either into the Maintenance-Sewers or the Old Chapel. The Chapel serves as a lair of sorts for the Peeping Tom’s and several would patrol the grounds and the adjourning graveyard. Father Ulfred’s Key would sit in a crypt area beneath the Chapel. The Dr. would need to drop into the Crypt and stealth/ fight past an aggressively patrolling Peeping-Tom to open the gate to obtain the key and escape the crypt.
There would also be expanded opportunities for tackling the Jailhouse. One of the cells could house a crazed huntsmen who, upon release, attacks everything in his path (including other huntsmen) thus causing a distraction and allowing the Dr. to steal the Graphite Cylinder from the evidence locker.
No matter how they chose to do it, overcoming the Tinker’s Lock would allow the Dr. to push on from the Old Quarter and access the towering estates of Cathedral Row.
Conclusion
With the game taking heavy inspiration from Victorian London, I do think that it is only a matter of time until we get a Jack-The-Ripper inspired segment and I think that incorporating some of the spaces from the demo could be an interesting way to do this. Additionally, so much work must have gone into designing all of the spaces and passages in the demo that I think it would be a bit of a shame not to see any of that architecture in the main game.

Alright Apes,
I was out walking my dog, ready to get back home to go to sleep, and then it happened. I did one last check of superstonk to get my dopamine hit that is our community and well, I got more than I asked for. Now I have too much energy to sleep because I am so fucking hyped for what I found. So here I am.
This beautiful post popped up at nearly midnight my time.
When it said watch in reverse, I had mixed emotions because one of my favorite post was the one with the opening to the White Stripes glitch mob remix. Go watch the video if you haven’t already. That’s one of my favorite songs for very personal reasons and the idea that GME was about to unleash something that caused a glitch was very exciting to me. I wanted that to be the foreshadowing that RK left us with.
But I like every other GME theory I read, it consumes me. I’m obsessed. So what the heck, let’s go watch everything in reverse.
Lucky for me I realized very quickly that when you go to the X iphone app and watch the latest video in full screen, you can just swipe up to see the next video. So, the next hour of my night was planned out.
That was an hour ago. I am so hyped about what I saw that I’ve decided to sit down and write out the my whole interpretation of what I saw. I don’t have answers for every single post but there does seem to be a theme that matches the theory that these are meant to watch in reverse.
Buckle up.
One last things before I get started. I think DFV has been here all along. I think he has read all of the DD and I think he made his memes with all of that in mind. I highly doubt he knows anything for sure but is just a fan of the DD. Just like I am. And there is one DD I fell in love with from the first moment I read it. I think he did too and this is his thesis. He has read all the tea leaves and doesn't think anyone has put it together like he has so he is sharing his interoperation of the DD, the market conditions, and the news and is going to do one last DD himself.
Ok. Here we go.
Oh, and this is not financial advice.
Ok. Here we go for real.
ET: This might actually be him saying goodbye for now. Hopefully not forever (still kinda sad we never got a ET 2).
Horse Gift: Not sure how to interpret this one. Maybe foreshadowing that he found (or was gifted) the GME bull thesis and at that point, he wasn’t sure if it was a good thing for a bad things. “We’ll see”
Coldplay Backwards: GME had to pull back for him to find the right time to get in.
Forest Running: And then it started running.
Original Sheet Music: Then he started meme. The memes were “MIRACULOUS”.
My favorite post – The White Stripes Glitch Mob video intro: Seriously, if you haven’t watched the video, go now. It’s hype af. This is the video that marks the Jan 2021 glitch. The sneeze.
MIB Kitty: And then GME became RK’s galaxy.
That’s not a Knife: He was the memelord at this point but shorties wanted his gains.
Westworld’s Bernard: Then the bear thesis’ started coming out but we can’t see what we are programed not to see. We were already programed at this point thanks to the bulleproof bull thesis.
Ocean’s Gang in Prison: And then we got thrown in a prison together when so many people bought at high prices.
Beavis and Butthead: We were obsessed with Cohen at this point. We hung on to every tweet. Sex for Dummies was a very popular one. Lot’s of theories popped up with this tweet.
A Few Good Men: DFV visits Congress!
Elaine Dancing: Is this him celebrating his gains and/or not getting thrown in prison?
Aladdin: They tried to take his gains away?
Truman > Mourinho’s In Big Trouble: He was gagged.
ASIP In Therapy: RK went to therapy and found he loved making memes and GME?
Newman: Talking about his experience as his new life as the United States GameStop memer and all the requests he was getting for memes.
Eddie Murphy: Chronicling his time as a memer
SNL The Shooting AKA Dear Sister: Not sure on this one.
Steve Wilkos: RK is ours and we are going to stick beside him
Succession: RK was reading so much about how he was the villain
Borne: More struggles with his identity as the GameStop memer and deciding what to do next.
CNBC > .50: Why does everyone hate RK?
The Dude: Not sure on this one.
Garden State: foreshadowing the jam that he’s about to get into this his next (older) posts
Every Everywhere All at Once: more foreshadowing.
Stand by Me: There’s a game of chicken going on. Shorts vs HODLers?
School of Rock: Reminding us what where here for. This journey isn’t going to be perfect but it’s Rock and Roll.
TeddyBears – Punk Rocker: He has both hands off the wheel now but he’s still along for the ride.
You Can’t Stop What’s Coming: Self-explanatory with likely last-minute cameo of the Chicago (where was Citadel founded?) BEARS thanks to the world’s most famous coke rat market manipulator.
Sicario 2: He’s asking us if we are ready to be the “villain” with him.
Flip Mode: If you really want to party with the Kitty, show him what you got (make some more memes people!!!)
The Shining: Our view of RK at work making his memes for the past 3 years.
500 days of Summer: Talking about why he does what he does. Because it’s going to last forever (more foreshadowing).
Luca: Him laughing at us not knowing everything. Just forget about it if you don’t understand, he has more for you.
Signs 1: This is where things get interesting. This is where we start seeing the signs. Connecting dots. We found something legit in all the DD.
Signs 2: The signs all pointed to GameStop. It’s all about GameStop and what they are going. Nothing else matters.
Signs 3: Are we the aliens? All of our best DD writers talking to each other were some of my favorite moments over the past 3 years. [There are theories about what these signs said and I will go back and fill that in later, I’m getting sleepy]
Signs 4: He is asking us if we believe the DD.
Signs 5: RK is one of us. Assuming we are the Aliens in these signs videos, he is telling us he is one of us.
The Modern Animal: We need to get a little crazy if we are going to take on the big city (NYC? Wall Street?)
Broad City: We made our own language. Memes. SuperStonk is a place for best friend with time to shoot.
GooseBumps: I THINK THIS IS WHERE WE ARE TODAY. RK is letting his briefcase of memes open and warning bears.
Everyone’s favorite Boss: Here some the SIGNS (memes for those who are not keeping up). He is going to his us ONE MORE TIME.
Pay Attention: NOW FUCKING PAY ATTENTION because he isn’t going to do this again.
Kill Bill: It’s time to fight and we are bad asses.
JigSaw + Kansas City Shuffle: Are you ready for the game? Because GameStop has you covered. Everything up to this point has been the inciting incident and catalyst of the Kansas City Shuffle. There is a very short scene where he says, “are you watching closely”? I saw a comments days ago that I can’t find and the very high level paraphrased version is that scene is from the Prestige and all of those hats were a result of him cloning himself. I think that represents the synthetics that plague our market. (I will find that comment that explains it better and go back to watch the movie myself and update this).
Shawshank: RK is telling us all it really takes is pressure and time to break out of their prison. While he was in prison, he went back to get his financial education. We also need an activist (investor, RC). There is a lot more nuance we can try to extrapolate form this one. I’ll save that for later.
Radiohead Karma Police: They have run the price down far enough. They have been leaking gas this whole time. It’s time for the match to be lit.
Neo: This is where Neo figures out how to work the matrix. The market is fake and everyone is mad. We all know it. When it comes to the market, we all took the red pill, and we see it for what it is.
Bullet Scene: Might need some help deciphering this one. I think it’s about how we (maybe not us but the general public) perceive the market. We see cause and effect but that’s now how it works. I think he is telling us that we don’t fully understand the market but our instincts are right and we just feel it. I think we as a community have that instinct.
Fury: Every boss is going to feel like the last one. They are going to pound us with misinformation, price manipulation, and anything else they can come up. But they are just taunting us to whoop some ass.
Trueman Show: They are going to hit us with everything they have but HOLD ON!
Me, Myself, & Irene: Them tanking the price is going to change how we feel and who we are.
Red Right Hand: Might need some help with this one too. The red hand man is stalking someone and the other person can’t do anything about it? Not sure who is who here.
Beat Saber: Might need some help with this too. Is he calling all freaks to show up because we are about to go to war?
Keith and Jake SNL: Everyone thinks Keith is crazy lol
Seinfeld: Calling out the memestock docs for being stupid. He had to some back and tell everyone to “Shut Up Bitch”
Shut Up Bitch: He delivers his best line to the people making him out to be a Vilian.
Coffee Mug Breaks: He is asking us to convince him to do it again.
Bane: RK is saying everything is going as planned.
Oceans (again): RK has been waiting for this time and it was all part of the plan.
Snoop: There was so much drama at GME. People had to be fired because they were someone dressed up as something else. Moles?
Spiderman: It’s time for Keith Gill to become Roaring Kitty again.
Pizza Slices: Guy on the left is a shorty. He is getting mad with how popular things got with the thesis and how many people bought.
Missy Elliot ft Luda: Giving us confidence that he has a worldwide audience and he is about to kill all the rumors.
In Love with RC: He is telling us that RC is the right guy. Don’t doubt him.
Guardians: Everyone already knows who is in charge. Stop fighting to be in charge.
CNBC again: Some of the misinformation actually said RK is in charge. He is not. He is busy drawing dicks (memes).
Oceans (again): I think he is saying that no one person is in charge. It took everyone to give GME all that money. Or maybe it AVOCADO-IN-MY-ANUS all along?
Breaking Bad: His side still hasn’t been told?
Fight Club: RK finally accepting he is DFV
Nice Guy: He is still a nice guy despite what people are saying.
Day and Night: I think he is talking about his struggles day and night over the last 3 years.
Dave: He could’ve ignored it all but he couldn’t stand it. He’s about to keep it real with us.
Star Wars: help me fill in the blank on this one.
Ozarks: help me fill in the blank on this one.
Grim Reaper: The hedgies are trying to figure out what is going on with GameStop. They are I a holding pattern and will be coming with more hitman when what happens in the rest of the tweets goes down.
*******This is where shit gets real********
The Prestige: Alright. Put your tinfoil hat on tight. Here is my interpretation of this one. The magician makes something disappear, but the audience wants to be fooled so we are not actually looking for the secret. So, when something disappears we don’t clap because it’s not as impressive. But as soon as it comes back, the fights is on**~. I think the NFT marketplace is going to come back~**. But I think it’s going to come back as something else. I think they built the blockchain infrastructure for something other than the NFT marketplace. That is when shit is going to go crazy. Don’t believe me, keep reading.
Brand New GME: They finally embrace what everyone has been calling them. They show up one day looking sexy as fuck and blow everyone’s minds.
Prisoner: And now the prisoner (GME’s true price) has true FFFRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEDDDDDDDOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMM.
The fallout: The hedgies are going to beg us to sell our shares at 14 grand but the nature of us is pure CRAZY. We all knew who was calling on the phone.
Parking Lot Killer: That is who was calling. They are coming for the bears.
Requel: And just like that the requel begins production.
Old Computer Game: Now the question is, with this brand new, sexy af version of GME are we selling or are we staying? I think it’s going to be so fucking amazing we “>Stay”
Kittyman: When this all goes down, RK will return again.
How did they do it?: GME (or we?) seems stupid but apparently whoever it is really good at paperwork and the RK is so happy he’s doing backflips.
What do they need to do it?: They are going to need all of us and the target is up. HODL.
Kingsman: Shorties will then be locked in the room with us and they are going to come in fierce numbers.
The Town: They need our help we can’t ask questions but we have some sick ass rides to get there with.
Morning Affirmation Cat: Help me with this one. I’m tired.
Troy: Sick ass scene. GME just needs to land the killshot.
Pikey Reaction: They pulled the price back so far that it’s a loaded spring and when the shots are fired, it’s going to be raining money. Now “come hang so we go out with a bang”. Does he have your attention now?
Stop Fighting: NOW we can stop fighting.
Pirates of the Carrabin: The Pirate comes back from the dead (NFT Market Place?) and GME presses the red button to go into hyperdrive. This solidified my theory.
Tombstone: It’s not for revenge. It’s for something bigger. It’s a reckoning. Maybe a Glass Castle?
Standoff: Now that the red button was pressed, we have all the shorties in a stand off. But it doesn’t matter because the result of the red button is going to destroy it all? DO I HAVE YOUR ATTENTION NOW?
Avenger Initiative: We have to do it together. It’s not just one person.
Sherlok Holmes: When GME says run, RUN! And remember what it’s running for. You monther, father, children, sisters, and brothers. The DOG DAYS are over.
Drive: We think were all good here right? It’s all over. Guess again. We are going to have every governmental agency coming after us and our gains. We are going to be on the run.
Bloody Blade: Help me with this one.
But First: The overture. This will be how it starts. We must go backward to unlock the secret. Once we do, the dragon wakes up and it’s game on for the game of thrones. We are going to break the wheel.
Still Here: It’s done when we say it’s done. This tweet closes with the song from the whole days evil cept being blown up with green fire. Sick.
Thanos: This was the actual first tweet just like the ET was the actual last tweet. He has read all the tea leaves and doesn't think anyone has put it together like he has so he is sharing his interoperation of the DD, the market conditions, and the news and is going to do one last DD himself.
Hope you were sitting up in your red chair and paying attention.
Apologies for any typos and poor formatting. I've never made a post like this and I'm too tired to figure all of that out. I'll come back tomorrow and clean it all up with that and fill any gaps you guys help me out with.

I’ve just got the option to continue into the next chapter of the Dm after finishing it. I’m not entirely sure whether I should go back or not. My load out is kinda cracked but I’m still unsure.

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

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

(I'm well aware that not everyone visualizes when they read, so this question is for those who do.)
Have you ever had those moments where you're fully immersed in the scene, you can see it clearly in your head and maybe even feel like you're right there, but then the author describes something that breaks the image in your head, and you have to "reimagine" it?
This usually happens with left and right thing. Like, the author describes something without giving us a clue of where it is or which side it's on, so we just fill in the blank, but then suddenly gives us a new clue that contradicts with what we have in mind.
It's not that much of a big deal, of course, but it does break the spell a little. Have you had this experience?

"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.

It feels like if you don’t have money, you will fall behind. I coach in a very affluent neighborhood. I have a modest apartment, a very blue collar job, and drive a 20 year old car. I have a semi decent amount of money saved up due to living a frugal life, so I prioritize buying my son higher quality gear without thinking much of it, but we’re not going on any luxury vacations or getting one on one training.
All the kids in the league he plays in get dropped off in luxury SUVs, live in multimillion dollar homes, and routinely go on vacations to beautiful parts of the world. They join tournament teams that play indoors when the weather’s unplayable, which is like October through March, and they also have occasional tournaments in Arizona during the cold months. These teams cost upwards of $10k a year, before travel expenses.
It’s impressive seeing how talented some of the kids have become, but also a lot of these kids have batting cages in their backyards, have former minor leaguers as hitting/pitching coaches, and play in tournaments all year round. And they’re 10.
In the nba and nfl we hear stories of players going from rags to riches that make it a lot more admirable knowing the background of where many of these players come from. But I feel like the stories of American mlb players are all just players who come from families of parents with fill in the blank high earning careers. Obviously the talent to make it to the highest level is worth acknowledging regardless of one’s upbringing, but I do feel like children who come from less wealthy families are put at a huge disadvantage that’s seldom discussed.
It’s a shame because sports can be a great pathway to make it to college for families who otherwise wouldn’t be able to afford tuition, but with the increasing cost of youth sports, the kids that are most likely going to be able to become talented enough to earn athletic scholarships are kids who come from families that could pay to have their child attend anyways.

was the entire truth. The story told from point A to Z.
Even if it had arrived as some odd game of fill in the blanks- I was willing to play along. Until, I simply couldn't anymore.
Who knew that me asking Who, What, When, Where and Why was too much. A handful of cowards, I do suspect.
Or, it was your final opportunity to grasp control over any aspect of my life. You had the ability to leave me in the dark one last time, so you did.
The rest of it I could have understood if given the opportunity. This, however, is why I'll despise you indefinitely. At least, until I all but entirely forget you. We all know that's a plausible option.
Thanks for demonstrating how integrity was just some catch phrase used to manipulate. It's the only word I find more repulsive than love when looking back.
I'm glad to know one thing for sure- I was always the better person amongst us.
Even at my worst I never once harmed anyone the way you did. I can calmly walk away with that alone. So, I will.

Backstory: Like everyone else here I come from a dysfunctional family with a history of abuse. There was also a religious aspect so a lot of shame/guilt/projections etc.
I'm coming to terms with the fact that I was pretty much brainwashed and had an incredibly distorted view of reality that only got better after a psychotic episode I had late adolescence/early adulthood. Im trying to "go through the fire" rather than just "move on" from the trauma and to put everything in a different lens has been earth shattering and heartbreaking for me. But I have a younger sibling that I'm especially worried about.
She's in high school right now, a little older than I was when I first started showing signs of the diagnosis I have now but she's definitely not well adjusted and in alignment with her peers. I played a part in her trauma though. I was not protective of her the way I should've been and treated her the way I was treated by my older siblings. When I was in hs I did what I could to be a better brother but I was starting to lose my mind and often isolated myself. She was just a kid and when I started having hallucinations I would 'hear' her knocking on my door asking to play again :(.
My mental health is better, hard to say by how much but only time will tell. I want to dedicate the rest of my life to being there for her and my family in a real sense and I'm not sure how. I didn't have a support system going through my HS years and psychosis other than hospitalizations and bouncing from therapist to therapist, so I don't really know what to do. As of rn, we bond over video games and I try to play with her when she can but I'm worried it's not enough. I'm worried that not being there when she was young and the times I was cruel and what I now see as abusive will prevent a bridge of trust for us. I'm worried she's closing herself of from the world and will end up like I did — isolated and vulnerable.
Is there anything I can do to be a better brother? A better support? I ask this sub specifically because not everyone can fill in some blanks for certain relationships dynamics. Some siblings don't get along and it's seen as normal but in our family there's no room or excuse for me to be anything but positive and uplifting and I see that now.
If anyone has made progress in their healing, what's externally has helped you? Whos helped you and how?
Thanks

The sun was setting on our way up McKelligon Canyon. We had hoped the sun would set before we got to our destination. It wasn’t looking good, we might not get the privacy we were hoping for as the area was filled with runners and cyclists.
I made small talk trying to calm your nerves. We discussed my stories and what they did to you, every word turning you on. You wanted to find out if indeed I was as good as I claimed to be and now you were about to find out. Were my lips soft enough to massage your dick? Was my throat big enough to take your dick? Would it be as slippery and sloppy just how I described it?
We arrived at our spot, the sun still out. Surrounding us was desert brush, picnic tables, and people enjoying the evening. I thought your nerves would ask me to take you back but instead you jumped to my backseat, and let me know you were ready.
I joined you in the backseat and that’s when you let me know you were nervous. No one had ever made you cum from a blow job before. I took the challenge and reassured you that my mouth had never failed to make a guy cum.
You quickly pulled your shorts down and positioned your hips towards me and waited. I placed one hand on the seat, leaned over and used the other to hold your dick.
The tip of my tongue meets the bottom of your shaft and your balls. My mouth swiftly moves over your cock then down all the way till my lips reach your pubes. I slowly pulled up releasing each inch as your dick is inflated. It was no longer soft but rock solid. You released sounds of pleasure and confirmed my lips felt good.
You push my head down and thrust your hips up. You lean back as my mouth is filled with your cock. You hold me down for a moment. The warm feeling of my tongue pressed against you, felt good. With a tight squeeze I managed to move my tongue in circular motions sending chills all over your body.
I come back up, releasing strings of mixed saliva and precum. I pull back as you observe a clear string of saliva briefly connecting from the top of your head to my lips. When it snaps, I know it’s time for me to return your dick down my throat.
While I pleased your dick, I couldn’t help but rub my hands up and down your smooth crack and balls. My tongue and mouth had already impressed you with my oral skills, I wonder how you would feel if my tongue traveled down your crack.
I start under your balls, my tongue is on a mission to give you the best orgasm. Traveling down your taint, my tongue finally reaches your hole. You didn’t hesitate or stop. You instead release a soft moan. I gently licked up and down your hole, then swirled in and around. My hands holding on to your dick, it wasn’t forgotten.
I return to your mouth watering dick. My craving for it made your dick easily slip and slide in and out of my mouth. My lips reach the bottom of your shaft where I held it for a second. Your head snug up in my throat, my saliva escaping the corners of my lips and soaking your pubes. I pull back up and right as I release your cock from my mouth like a monsoon of saliva falls down on to your dick and drips down all over you.
No longer nervous and lost in the euphoric feeling, you take off your shirt. Now, you’re completely naked only wearing blank socks, and ready to cum. You stroke your cock and enjoy the sounds of mixed precum and saliva. You admit you like it extra sloppy. So I lean down and begin to release saliva onto your head all over your hand while you stroke hard.
I hold my lips pressed against your head, and with every thrust of your hand I slightly open. I tease your head with my tongue and lick your fingers. Making sure that in between I release warm saliva now dripping all over your cock and hands.
The slippery feeling of my saliva and the warm feeling of mouth must have been enough to make you explode. You release large amounts of creamy white cum all over your pubes and stomach. I press my lips against your cum then pull back creating a string of cum from your head to my mouth. I did this a couple of times before I asked if I lived up to my stories. You said I did and gave me a 10/10.

So it's me again, back for another rant! Life is tough, and I don't have anyone I can talk to. I'm just so tired of the way things are!
Last night me and my bestie decided to have a few drinks and just unwind, it was actually a lot of fun. We had some drinks and sang along to some music, it was overall just great. Unfortunately if everything went good, it wouldn't be much of a rant would it. The night was going fine, I had 3 cans of Mike's Hard Black cherry (super yummy and definitely recommend it) and I had 2 glasses of rum & coke, so nothing all that crazy for me compared to how much I have drank in the past. Around 3am I got hit with some mild chest pain...
The chest pain turned into a really intense pressure through my chest that ended up radiating through my back, it was nothing like what I've felt before, I get stress chest pains and honestly this experience made them seem somehow diminished in comparison. As the pain got worse I noticed I was having trouble breathing, it got so bad that I started getting nervous. Within 20 minutes of the chest pains starting I got genuinely scared and asked my bestie to take me to the hospital, anyone who knows me knows that I will avoid it at all cost so she knew that it had to be serious enough. She went into panic mode and in spite of everything I managed to stay calm and take control of the situation. As we pulled into the hospital parking lot I started feeling an almost primal fear, the type of fear you get when you think you're truly about to die.
I got to the front desk and was immediately told to come in and take vitals, they couldn't get a BP despite having the cuff on my arm for about 10 minutes, she finally gave up and asked me the usual questions about pain and stuff. Weirdly enough my arms decided to shift between pain and numbness and I suddenly started slurring while trying to explain myself, that was when all "care" was off limits to me. Our hospital has a bad habit of sweeping people under the rug if they even remotely suspect alcohol use, but the thing is I was fine moments before going in... I was perfectly coherent and I actually felt completely sober thanks probably to adrenaline or fear. I was sent back to the waiting area and told to just wait my turn, and things went from bad to worse quickly.
I didn't know that I had passed out, my bestie filled in the blanks for me. Apparently while we sat there waiting I kept coughing roughly, my eyes rolled to the back of my head, and apparently I kept making weird movements with my tongue sticking out. She said the best way of describing it is "I was behaving like I'd been severely drugged and suddenly seemed to spiral quickly". When I came too I was still in the waiting room, freezing, in severe pain (I don't do well in cold environments and the hospital is always freezing), and feeling just beyond exhausted. When I asked her about if we were even checked on she confirmed my thoughts... we were left there, away from other patients, out of sight of anyone who could help if things got deadly.
After managing to stand up I looked at my bestie and said that I didn't want to be there anymore because no one cared about me, she agreed with me on the terms that if anything else happened we'd go back immediately. When I went back to triage to tell them I was leaving the nurse gave me a smug look and asked if I was feeling better or do I just want to leave, so I answered with "better isn't the word I'd use but dying at home seems like a better option". She ripped the IV plug out of my arm (which I frankly don't remember having one inserted), and told me to have a good day. I felt so angry! The experience triggered my PTSD from the last time I went to the hospital (long story short, I was kept isolated in a room soaking wet and freezing until the department I needed decided to take me in).
I could have died, and no one would've cared because they suspected I was drunk!!! What if no one came to check on me at all?! What if they only found out I died because my bestie couldn't wake me?! Would they have maybe cared than? Or would they have just said "oh well she drank"? It's infuriating to be treated like nothing just because there was a little bit of alcohol involved, like I said I wasn't drunk and actually felt sober! My condition deteriorated rapidly over the course of a 5 minute car ride. I spent the whole day just feeling rough!
After we left the hospital my body just doesn't feel right. My chest feels fuzzy/bubbly, I don't know how to better describe the feeling as well as feeling tight. My breathing still feels really labored like it's taking a lot of effort to just keep going, and small things are leaving me feeling winded. All day I couldn't shake this weird chronic fatigue, I'm just drained of all energy. And I've been noticing my arms go completely numb if I lean on them, which is super alarming. As long as nothing else happens in between I'm planning on following up with my doctor because at least she's taking me seriously, if something else does happen though were gonna take the 3+ hour drive to the next nearest hospital. The scary thing is, that weird primal fear still hasn't gone away and I'm nervous about that!

So my genshin account got hacked and the hacker change the email that link my account, and I just found out that since my genshin and star rail account is link to the same email. They both lost.
This is my first time getting hack and Im quite loss. Should I send 2 different ticket in star rail and genshin or just send email to support_os?
So far I have send a ticket in game (genshin) and to the genshincs_hoyoverse email adress. I tried to ask for recovery form from support_os email (using "Account Recovery Form" as title and blank message) but so far no reply. How long usually they respond to send the form?
Sorry if this message is all over the place, I hope I can find some help here to get my acc back
UPDATE 1:
I GOT REPLIES!!!
both the inquiry that I send via in game and to support_os@hoyoverse replied to me:
In game reply confirm that my account is linked with someone else account and ask me to confirm whether I knew it or not, How do I response to the in game support??
And lastly is from support_os@hoyoverse email, they ask me to provide a series of information based on my account, no link to fill a form yet, just regular email
No reply from the genshin_cs@hoyoverse email yet
What should I do?? Which one should I reply first and what is the best way to do it. I dont know how to add picture in edited post but just to be absulutely clear I want to ask here first for advice.
Thanks

I just wrote my first album review and I know it needs work. Please offer tips of any kind!
I will post it for free here, but if you have medium please read it here:
https://medium.com/@benbrotmanb/secrets-heartbeat-atavista-by-childish-gambino-an-album-review-fce8f38ee5a0
But here's the full article:

“Secrets, Heartbeat” Atavista by Childish Gambino : an Album Review

Atavista released on May 13, 2024, a yearned-for date for fans of Childish Gambino’s former records like his most recent efforts Kauai (2014) and “Awaken, My Love!” (2016). It’s no secret that Donald Glover has carved into and entrenched himself in the inventive R&B and Hip-hop scene of the last 20-plus years, an extension of his creative and successful efforts as an actor. The following he’s amassed have waited a long seven years for the release of any project, unsure for much of that time if he even would.
Childish Gambino’s musical projects have improved with each release since 2011’s Camp. In those earlier years, his messages were met with overwhelmingly corny delivery and style, but his endeavors remained steady and he eventually found more profound and artistic ways to speak to his audience and the world. Gambino’s music includes but is not limited to addressing and critiquing American society and pop culture (see his smash hit “This is America”), while also pondering what life means and who he really is behind the fame.
The anticipation for this record was high for many having found enjoyment in his discography, including, most recently, the psychedelic, groovy, passionate, and emotional “Awaken, My Love!”.
The album art to represent this record seems to differ completely from all his previous. The jarringly blank white background with “ATAVISTA” pasted across the center to me indicated a significant change in his approach these many years later, but his style changes so drastically with each release that it was up in the air.
The introduction and title track “Atavista” fed us a short reflection on the word and it’s context — it meaning some sort of return to something ancestral or left behind, but this track didn’t reveal too much about how the rest would unfold.
By the third song “Time” with Ariana Grande, it was clear that Childish Gambino was taking another more pop-based approach to his regular variation on R&B — dappled with messages about his unique journey with self-love (see “To Be Hunted”) and the faults within social media(in “Algorhythm” and more).
A suprising first feature on the record, Ariana steps up to the plate. Her verse ends about as quickly as it begins, leaving something to be desired of her talent. The experience thus far felt lacking, but it was hard to put a finger on it.
What gave the album some kick after a slightly underwhelming beginning were two stand-out catchy and trademarked Gambino groove tracks: “Sweet Thang” with Summer Walker and “Little Foot Big Foot” with Young Nudy. The former is a sugary, southern, and soulful track that speaks on the ups and downs of relationships, neutrally expressing negative traits about his lover, but that they are a “sweet thang” regardless. “Little Foot Big Foot” showboats an earworm flow paired with a masterfully-utilized Nudy verse — a testament purely by his presence to the track’s message about the connection between absent fathers and drug dealing.
The album’s progression then begins to experience a falling action. Ther final few songs contributed little to the more passionate essence of what Gambino laid out just before. The production and overall sound of the the record (and especially the second half) was bland, monotonous, and drawn out — not something expected to hear after expecting the building momentum to continue. The wait was overall not worth the results of Childish Gambino’s efforts this time around, only creating a greater hole to fill for fans of his who feel the same.

5.5/10.