Dark purple nail designs

First we'll begin with Saiyans

1. SSJ4

Still surprised that it's still not already a transformation.
Basic Attack: +25%
Ki Blast: +20%
Strike Super: +25%
Ki Super: +20%
Release your inner primal fury and become a SSJ4! Increase your attack power well beyond SSJ3!

1. SS Rage

I felt like it was fair to give higher damage than SSJ3 and lower than SSB but also without the ki drain because Trunks literally kept getting clapped and then coming back later for the entire Goku Black Arc.
All Attack Damage: 20%
Resistance: +8%
Speed: +8%
Stamina Recovery: +6%
Ki Recovery: +6%
Unleash your full power and rage against your opponent. Your ki and stamina recharge faster to let you continue your flurry!

1. Legendary SS

Like Super Saiyan and Kaioken, I planned to have different levels of this, but based off of health rather than ki, and to follow your health as the fight goes on. Similar to how Broly gets stronger throughout the fight and Ultra Ego, which I'll get onto later.
The three numbers for each category represent the stat boost when the user is at 66+% of their health, then 33-66%, and 66+%.
Basic Attack: 10%, 20% 30%
Strike Super: 10% 20% 30%
Ki Blast: 8%, 16% 24%
Ki Super: 8% 16%, 24%
Resistance: 4%, 8%, 12%
Become a Legendary Super Saiyan and become stronger as the fight goes on!
Next, we have Earthling transformations.

1. Max Power (Buff/Master Roshi)

Basic Attack +20%
Ki Blast +10%
Strike Super +20%
Ki Super: +10%
Resistance: +8%
Stamina Recovery: -8%
Expand your muscles and overpower your opponent! Beware though, this form takes stamina to maintain!

1. No Ego Zone (Krillin)

Basic Attack: 15%
Ki Blast: 15%
Strike Super: +20%
Ki Blast: +20%
Ki Recovery: +15%
Stamina Recovery: +10%
Harness your ki masterfully to enhance your fighting ability!
Namekians

1. Potential Awoken Not to be confused with Potential Unleashed, which is already in the game. This form, like Super Saiyan and Kaioken has multiple levels dependent on ki when using it. At over 3 bars when using, the Namekian will turn yellow, and when over 5, they will turn orange and buff up a bit. The first number represents their stats when yellow and the second when orange.

Basic Attack: +15%, +20%
Ki Blast: +15%, +20%
Strike Super: +15%, +20%
Ki Super: +15%, +20%
Resistance: +3%, +8%
Awaken your true Namekian battle spirit and turn into a fiery yellow or orange to face your opponent!
Frieza Race

1. Full Power The user buffs up and shows their veins and are surrounded with a purple aura, similar to Full Power Frieza in the Namek Arc.

All Attack: +10%
Speed: +5%
Resistance: +5%
Stamina Recovery: -3%
Ki Recovery: -8%
Push your body to the extent and go all out against your opponent! Keep in mind the immense strain of pushing yourself!

1. Black

I had some trouble coming up with this one since Black is so OP. I gave Black some amazing stat boosts but with horrendous ki drain.
Basic Attack: +35%
Ki Blast: +40%
Strike Super: +35%
Ki Super: +40%
Speed: +15%
Resistance: +10%
Ki Recovery: -25%
Embrace darkness and strike fear into the hearts of your opponents with immense power at the cost of immense amounts of ki!
Majins
I honestly had no idea what to do with majins because they're so, well, weird, but I'll give them a shot since they definitely deserve better than purification.

1. Absorption

During the transformation's animation, I like to think your OC just extends their arm and grabs some Majin OC by another player, kind of like how other player's skins show up as enemies or time patrollers to fight during PQs. The player grows taller and has the long antennae go back, looking like Super Buu.
Basic Attack: +20%
Ki Blast: +20%
Strike Super: +20%
Ki Super: +20%
Ki Recovery: +10%
Absorb a fellow Majin to enhance your power as a warrior!
I'm starting to worry if I run out of characters, and time, and patience.
Universal Transformations.

1. Ultra Instinct

Ultra Instinct won't have insane stats because it is a technique that allows maximum use of the body rather than multiplying power. UI will be incredibly powerful due to its gimmick.
The transformation time for UI is instantaneous. When using UI, one can dodge all basic attacks and strike supers without using stamina, similar to the AI in some Time Rifts. However, stamina starts draining INCREDIBLY fast. I'm talking almost Kaioken x20 levels of stamina drain. Such that UI can't be used throughout the full fight. I felt this was the best way to add UI with it's auto-dodging without making it incredibly overpowered.
All Attack: +25%
Resistance: +15%
Speed: +20%
Ki Recovery: +15%
Stamina Recovery: -35%
Use the power of the angels and harness Autonomous Ultra Instinct to dodge attacks without thinking! However, mortal bodies can't use the power for long without consequence!

1. Ultra Ego

UE can best be described as a stronger version of Legendary Super Saiyan mixed with Beast. Unlike UI, it doesn't have the ability to literally auto-dodge attacks so I don't feel it necessary to give the same intense repercussions as UI. At 33% damage or below, it probably would have the greatest stats of the game. The first number represents strength at 66+% health, the second at 33-66%< and the third at below 33%
Basic Attack: 20%, 30%, 40%
Ki Blast: 15%, 25%, 35%
Strike Super: 20%, 30%, 40%
Ki Super: 15%, 25%, 35%
Resistance: -10%, 0%, +15%

We are 45 days out until wedding day! Please please PLEASE make sure you are ready to go! That means the following:
Nails: Hands and Feet need to be white (changed my mind on this from what I said previously)
Hair: Make sure your roots are done if you get your hair done and hair is trimmed. I don’t want anyone’s hair looking like straw or not put together. Hair for Wedding Day: Curly up do (can be with braids, a bun, a pony tail, etc.)
Eyebrows: Need to be done. Nicely shapen don’t care if you pluck them, thread, wax, whatever doesn’t matter as long as they are done! NO UNIBROWS ALLOWED!! Or else I’ll do it myself on wedding day😂
Skin: After looking at everyone in the dresses everyone needs a little bit of color whether you tan or not. So it you are one of the whiter people please start getting some sun or get a spray tan! Also, if you wear an apple watch please make sure you don’t have a tan line. No tan lines also if you can’t cover it with yoir dress! That will literally drive my crazyyy!!
Hair and Makeup: Come to wedding day with inspo photos of what you want. Do NOT come with nothing! It makes the process a lot easier if they can see what you want. NO SMOKEY DARK EYES FOR MAKEUP!! Again makeup is $130. Hair is anywhere from $100-$130 (waiting to hear from Rachael what the exact amount is). Make sure you bring cash with you the day of the wedding to pay them!
Rehersal will be at Wood Acres Farms (venue) at 5pm on July 6th. Then we will be going to Hawk Ridge for dinner immediately afterwards.
Any questions that are NOT answered in this message just ask!! And I will be that bitch that if the question is answered in this text I will say please refer to the long text I sent😂

These are the next ones getting cut from the collection. I’m finally basically done with collecting I might try out 2 other knives but either way I’m thankful I’m not getting 5+ knives a month 😅anyways
Timestamp
Starting off is my ferrum forge stinger. Not sure who modded the knife but the front scale was anodized a nice lighting pink color with a bit of blue and the back was lighting anod. Actions smooth and centering is perfect. I did chip the tip once and I grounded the spine to give myself a new tip. Blade is sharp but could use another sharpening. No scratches or anything from what I can see. Only some snails on the clip. Hoping to get $120. Will come with the small pouch. Pics and vids
And last but not least is my dammed designs invictus. Was modded by a fellow redditor. it Has a super nice and grippy bark texture on the scales and the hardware is a nice very very dark blue. Action is solid centering is perfect and it was recently sharpened. No scratches on the blade but it looks like some tape residue is still on there. Haven’t been able to get it off. Hoping to get $110.
Invictus pics and vids

FirstNext
Well, it only took Canada burning and the East Coast turning into smoky rendition of a Mexico filter for this chapter to finally reach completion. Regularly-scheduled programming should hopefully resume after July 4th. Until then, drink some water, don't do gender reveals in the forest, and hang in there, guys!
Pursuant to Imperial Decree 10928, and in recognition of the reservist nature of the unit, the 1st Rocket Artillery Regiment has been found to satisfy the standards outlined in the Decree. However, in light of the significant budget and nonmaterial resource allocations that were required to bring the aforementioned unit up to levels considered satisfactory by existing standards, additional considerations beyond readiness and training levels must be taken into account.
Throughout the appeals process, you have repeatedly indicated that you believe rocket artillery to still have a place on the modern battlefield, citing recent reports from the Terran Planetary District command of the Sol System sector, as well as early after-action reports from the Intervention on Raknos, which you claim to support your argument. However, further investigation into this claim by independent analysts on behalf of Armored Warfare Command has found it to hold no merit in light of the recent restructuring outlined in detail in prior communications. Simply put, neither the Empress, nor her advisors, believe that the maintenance and garrisoning of units intended strictly for low-intensity counter-insurgency operations remains doctrinally viable.
Additionally, the excessive monetary and nonmonetary resources you requested in preparation for the evaluation, in light of the on-par, verging on substandard performance of the 1st Rocket Artillery Regiment, even accounting for the large number of fresh troops that needed to be drawn down from other posts to fill out its ranks, is highly suggestive on the part of you, the honorable Ashira Rakishal. This discrepancy is of high importance, and you may rest assured that it has already been publicly filed by the time this letter appears in your inbox.
Such a discrepancy is indicative of either incompetence or corruption on your part. Commanding officers may face demotion or a possible dishonorable discharge for the former, or, for the latter, a fine totalling no more than one-and-a-half times the estimated sum of the damages assessed, guaranteed dishonorable discharge and a potential prison term of no more than four years. Due to there being no evidence to suggest the latter, the former approach has been suggested by the Armored Warfare Command. Effective fourteen (14) days after this order is signed, your rank will be reduced and you will be relieved of commanding the Regiment. You may be restationed at this time, and your government-issued devices may be deactivated to facilitate this restationing. The 1st Rocket Artillery Division, in accordance with Decree 10928, will be dissolved and its assets relocated to other units wherever possible. Any remaining property will be auctioned under section 12.57.3(g) of the Naval and Marine Surplus Handling Act of 651 at the Val’tira Central Forwarding Depot.
Ashira finished reading the letter, but the words meant nothing to her. She hadn't slept in half a week, if not longer, in anticipation of the results from her hearing. In fact, she'd hardly gotten up from her desk; the 1st RAR was on leave until the final verdict would be announced publicly, and it was all she could do but to refresh her inbox every few minutes and watch mindless clips in the background that she hardly heard and never managed to remember a word from.
She tried reading it again, but the letters seemed to float off the screen, each one wrapped in a halo of bluish white screen glow. Nothing made sense.
'We were found to be satisfactory, but then… why does it talk about my rank? Am I getting promoted? There was something about dishonorable discharges, too, so… are some of my girls getting let go? I guess I will have to break the news to them. And it said something about budget overruns… well, mom still owes me from when she forgot to get me anything for my eighteenth last month, so I guess she can pay them back for all the equipment and training I had to authorize…'
Her thoughts were already drifting off into a vague haze when her stomach made a low noise, reminding her of the fact that she hadn't eaten in hours, mostly because her supply of food had run dry. Almost in a trance, she rose from her desk and, almost on autopilot, set about getting ready to go out and do some shopping, as she always did. The floor of her living quarters was almost entirely hidden by weeks-old discarded packaging, mountains of dirty clothes, and bottles half-filled with liquid that was either expired juice or urine. Narrow paths snaked through the mess; one to the bathroom, one to her bed, and one more still to the door, which she now slowly shambled towards.
Ashira pulled a pair of battered combat boots over her bare feet - she'd run out of socks that didn't offend her senses some weeks prior - without bothering to lace them, shoved her wallet into the front pocket of the fireproof jumpsuit she wore with absolutely nothing underneath and hadn't changed out of all week, and shoved the door open to head out. Immediately, the smell - or, perhaps, a lack thereof - of the corridor hit her. All the sleeping quarters were locked. It was quiet. Though her boots were heavy, her footsteps barely made a noise as she plodded along the thick, purple and topaz-blue carpet that lined the floor.
The door to the lobby was propped open by a cleaner's cart, and a heavy perfume of chemical detergents wafted through the opening as she approached. In the lobby was a small, older Helkam male, with his long and, in places, graying hair tied back with a beige bandana that matched his civilian contractor's coveralls, just as his green noise-canceling headphones matched the company logo on his uniform. He was dutifully mopping the already nigh-spotless polished stone floor, and there was only a narrow dry strip connecting doorway to doorway.
“‘Scuse me,” she mumbled, tapping him on the shoulder to alert him to her presence. “Coming through.”
He flinched away from her touch, and she flinched away from him, as though his own shock was contagious. “The fuck, you touch me!?” He exclaimed, whipping around to face her, mop at the ready like a Turox-prod. His face burned a pale but furious violet, contorted with fear and a readiness to fight. But, just as suddenly as he’d come to face her, his expression became one of confusion. His mop dipped down, and they stood in silence for a split second that seemed to drag on for entire minutes. Then, he made an odd face, as if of disgust or contempt, and stepped aside, motioning for her to pass by him.
Ashira would have been puzzled by this, if only she were not so frazzled and caught up in her own thoughts. She stepped outside and was immediately hit by a cool breeze; it was night out, and the wind blew in just as it always did. Not that it bothered her much; over the previous months, she had found that it didn’t seem to affect her very much. The only reason she wasn’t feeling the full brunt of the evening gales was that the buildings around the officer’s quarters were mostly two- and three-story affairs, their height and old, weathered stone cladding the last specters of the prominence and prestige the base enjoyed in the long-before times. Before the Unification Wars were but a distant memory. Before the Periphery had become the final, unconquerable frontier. Before the Empress-damned mess that was Raknos. Before Rocket Artillery had become hopelessly obsolete.
The wind blew, relentless and steadfast, as she trudged towards the only place on-base that still had its lights on. The general store. She didn’t know what she wanted to buy there, nor if there would indeed be anything on the shelves that she’d want to buy, but she felt she had to try, anyway. The only rest she could get now was chemically-assisted, either through over-the-counter sleeping pills, or copious volumes of booze, or, when the going got particularly rough, a combination of both. She was vaguely aware of the damage she was probably inflicting upon her organs, but she figured that they were a worthy sacrifice. Still, some days she couldn't fall asleep, even boozed up and medicated as much as she would dare, so she would lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, hoping that the splitting headaches she would get from that chemical cocktail would make her ears ring loud enough to drown out her intrusive thoughts.
The store wasn't particularly warm when she entered, and it reeked of cigarette smoke and mildew as always. The nearest set of shelves to the door were stocked with bags of some sort of imported breaded meat snacks labeled Pufriyah - Ancestral Recipe, Modern Taste! across the top shelf and cases of Red Grains across the bottom, as if some long-forgotten planner had seen into the future and anticipated Ashira's shopping habits exactly. Without much thought, she pulled a case of the Reds off the bottom shelf, her back, which had been sore for months by then, crying out in pain that just barely cut through her apathy. She threw a few bags of the Pufriyah snacks on top of it, entirely indifferent to their name, slogan, and brown-furred chibi mascot that spoke to their Rakiri intended consumer base.
'It's all just carbs and protein at the end of the day,' she figured. It wasn't like she could taste much of them anyway, had she really cared to learn their flavor. It was close to a month prior that she'd caught a nasty cold, and her constant sleep deprivation and stress hadn't lent themselves to it clearing itself up on its own. Her senses of taste and smell were unnecessary to her whipping her unit into shape, she'd decided, once she learned that the antivirals she needed to take to make her symptoms clear up would need her to be on bed rest for three straight days. She could always take them later, anyway.
The bottles of Red Grain clanked against each other as Ashira heaved the case onto the checkout counter. The bags on top of it slid off, and she only just caught them in time. The noise awoke the lone cashier, another civilian contractor, from her nap atop her wobbly three-legged stool. She quite inelegantly hopped off of it and came to lean against the counter with one hand, the other lazily waving the scanner of a specialized Data-Slate over the merchandise.
"ID for the Reds," the cashier groggily slurred out, patting down her many pockets in search of a cigarette box. "Standard procedure, nothing personal against you."
Ashira stared at her, dumbfounded, for a few moments too many, before it hit her that she needed to pull up her Marine Profile on her Slate. Mumbling an apology mixed with an excuse, she reached into one of the few - albeit cavernously huge - pockets of her fireproof suit and produced the grimy government-issue device in question. The lock screen was set to her ID, just to make such common interactions go by quicker.
She pushed the Slate across the counter, expecting to get it slid back to her in a few moments, and maybe a manufactured smile and a nod if the cashier noticed the Rakishal House crest in the corner and realized she was of noble blood. But this time, none of that happened. The woman across from her frowned, squinting as she analyzed something about the ID, her face no more than perhaps a few centimeters from it. She looked up at Ashira, then back down at the ID, then back at her, and then all of a sudden her confusion melted into some odd mixture of shock and disgust. She wordlessly pushed the Slate back across the counter, scanned the case of Red Grain, and then motioned to a now very baffled and somewhat offended Ashira that she was free to leave.
In her sleep-deprived state, Ashira had barely the mental capacity to remember where the door was, much less to ponder the deeper meaning behind what had transpired. Vowing to come back the next day, after getting a good night's sleep, and get the insolent cashier fired, she trudged out of the shop, back to the officers' quarters, where the Helkam man was still toiling away in the lobby, now wiping down the Turox-leather seats, and into her own suite.
She brushed the most egregious of the trash from her bed, with the arm that wasn't clutching the spoils of her trek to her chest, and allowed gravity to gracelessly guide her into its soft, fitted-sheet embrace. With a sigh of barely-felt relief, she cracked the cap off her first bottle with her tusks and took a long, well-earned swig.
The next thing she knew, it was morning.
Everything hurt. Ashira's muscles all ached like she'd run every Deathshead Commando bootcamp course, back-to-back, without stopping. Her head felt like a bloated, rotten gourd, ready to burst at the slightest touch. Even though her eyes were closed, what little light made it through them felt as though it was piercing straight through her eyeballs and into her brain. However, through it all, she noted an odd, almost pleasant sensation that she hadn't felt in so long, she'd almost forgotten the word for it.
'Empress all-powerful, this must be the first time in almost a year that I've had a full night's sleep!'
Ashira would have kept laying there, exactly where she was. The room was quiet. No one needed her. Her unit was stood down for another few days. She could just stay in bed, in peace, and wait for the pain to subside. But the very second she considered that possibility, her bladder cried in agony, and she simultaneously came to the realizations that she would not be able to hold it in for even a minute longer, and that she was wearing her only set of relatively-clean clothes.
She pushed herself up and onto her feet, and that motion sent showers of sparks cascading through her vision, even as her eyes stayed firmly shut. Her ears rang from the pain as though she'd stuck her head between the prongs of a colossal tuning fork, her limbs felt numb as she stumbled through her room, and the only way she could tell up from down was from the direction gravity kept pulling her every time she lost her balance.
She hit the door frame to the bathroom by chance, only recognizing it as the right one by the light switch her elbow painfully caught. From there, she went entirely by feel. There was the sink, the towel rack, the soap dispenser, the shower door… and finally, having run out of wrong things to blindly grope around for, her hand bumped into the tank of the toilet. Even bending down made her head fill with the pounding beat of her heart, every pulse seeming to try and push her brain out of her skull through her eyes and ears. She nearly blacked out as she sat down.
The next thing Ashira knew, she was doubled over her sink, dry-heaving, her fireproof pants pulled back up around her waist but neither zipped shut nor clipped together at the front. She knew for certain that nothing had come up, because she was newly aware of the desiccated dryness in her mouth and throat, as if all her flesh had been replaced with fine-grit sandpaper. Still lacking the resolve to open her eyes, she blindly clawed at the knobs of the sink until water began to pour, and then began scooping handfuls of it into her mouth.
After a few gulps, she began to feel a bit better. Her mouth, though it still felt dry as ever, was at least now rid of the horrible, sour, metallic taste that she hadn't registered until it was gone, and the unintentional splashing of water onto her face did wonders in helping her start to truly wake up. The very next instant, though, a numbing pain spread across her hands and face, and down her throat. The water was freezing cold.
That didn't deter Ashira, though, and she kept drinking until she knew that she would not be able to swallow a drop more without throwing up. Her hands were numb from the frigid water, as was her face. Icy rivulets streamed down her chin and throat and under her unzipped collar, leaving cool, glistening trails across her breasts and stomach.
Somehow, this numbness that spread across her fingers and cheeks seemed to have carried over to her hangover, as well, though whether it was the rapid cooling, or the much-needed hydration, or both, she neither knew nor cared. Her head now hurt with the intensity of just any old headache, her skin did not feel two sizes too small for her organs, and her muscles and joints barely ached with any more intensity than they usually did.
She opened her eyes for the first time since she'd gotten out of bed, ready and eager to take full advantage of her hangover cure while its effects still lasted, and almost fell over as she stumbled away from the mirror in shock. The reflection in the mirror was decidedly not her.
Bloodshot eyes stared out at her from dark, sunken orbits; two craters on a puffy face rendered a waxy, pale bluish lilac by months of near-total involuntary isolation from the daylight. Raven hair framed that lifeless visage, once kept neat and short, now a wild, greasy, and, above all, long Seetcha's nest. It had once had lively sun-bleached streaks where her beret and headset did not fully cover it, from when she would ride head-out in her trusty command Ishtarti-603, but they were now mere faded tips spread unevenly through the carbon-black tangle.
The rest of her was not in much better shape. Her bust, though always on the fuller size, was nonetheless noticeably larger than it had been the last time Ashira had inspected her reflection, and doubtless was the cause of her incessant back pain. In the same moment, she became aware that her breasts rested not against the top of her six-pack - which, while rarely worked out and never particularly defined, had, in its mere presence, still been a point of quiet pride for her - but at the upper limits of a beer gut, whose faint outline was visible even under the baggy suit she was wearing for the umpteenth day in a row, and which stood as a testament to the inertia she had descended into while trying to force the RAR into motion.
'Fuck, there's the evidence of my battle. Mom was right, I do eat like a Turox before the slaughter. I have no self-control. Why do I even bother with this restructuring business if I can't even keep to my own damn fitness goals?' Her gloom, though deep and all-consuming while it weighed upon her soul, dissipated just as quickly as it set in. 'But I knew it would happen, so why does it surprise me? I knew going in that I was burning myself up in the present to keep future me warm. It's just a few kilos. A dozen at most. No big deal. Just need a bit more exercise for a month or two and I'll be right back in parade shape!'
It did, however, make her think to place an order with the on-base supply depot for some new clothes. With the Unification Day festivities looming, it would simply not do for this quite temporary distortion of her Noble figure to be so brazen, she firmly decided.
The order would have to wait, however. When Ashira brought out her government-issued Data-Slate from her front pocket in a familiar motion, already compiling a list of all the workout gear, field uniforms, and parade garb she would need in a size up, the device, in an apparent bout of unruliness, first resisted her efforts to turn it on, and when it was finally made to do so, simply boot-looped endlessly on the startup screen. For all intents and purposes, it was a Slate-shaped paperweight, and Ashira didn’t even have enough physical documents in her possession to make use of this one purpose it had left.
‘First my clothes, now the one Slate mom can’t track me on. What’s next, is my ID going to expire all of a sudden? Will my physical Chit card have a bad contact?’
There was only so much she could take at one time, so she decided to do the sensible thing and get something to eat before returning to dealing with her problems. She pulled out her Slate. It was almost noon.
'No one needs to see me like this. How can I command the regiment if they see me in such a state? I'll order breakfast - well, lunch now, but who's really counting? - and I can join everyone for dinner, once I get a chance to order in some new clothes, and shower, and maybe do something with my hair.'
With a practiced motion, so automatic it was almost a reflex, she swiped through the interface until she found what she was looking for. There, between Combatters forum sites, was a saved page for the Hungry Gal's order menu. Her chit was already saved in the system. All she needed was to tap on "Large Hot Meal #5 - Drink Combo" and…
CHIT DECLINED - PAYMENT BLOCKED
"That can't be right," Ashira muttered aloud as she tapped the button again, over and over, to the same effect. "It's a government card. Unless- ah, right, it must be the new policy they were talking about! Can't believe they made food expenses count as personal expenditure only, the nerve of these credit-pinching…"
She went into the payment details section of the page, switched the number to her personal one, and selected "Large Hot Meal #5 - Drink Combo" again. This time, a new message appeared.
INVALID ACCOUNT - DEACTIVATED
The gnawing hunger in her stomach disappeared in an instant, replaced by a solid iron bar of dread. Why was her account deactivated? Who could have done it? The only other person with access privileges was her own mother, and why would she…?
Ashira knew the answer. She didn't want to know it, to acknowledge that she knew it for fear of what it meant, but she did. With shaking hands, she opened the notification screen of her Slate, and saw she had unread messages from her family group chat. She tapped that notification, expecting a deluge of fury about her weight, her spending habits, her slovenly appearance in public, or any manner of other things, but there was but one message, sent earlier that morning. It was from her mother, indeed, but it was just four words long.
I got the letter.
She wanted to protest, to scream, "What letter could you possibly mean?," but she couldn't. A memory, hazy from the fog of insomnia that had dulled her thoughts at the time, played against her volition in her mind. The words hadn't made sense to her then, but they did now. Robotically, she closed the message from her mother and searched through her inbox for one marked with a government seal. She opened it, and read it in silence. The last few lines were the hardest to read, because by then the tears had begun to well up in her eyes.
It was over. Her career, her noble status, her finances, her life as she knew it… they were all gone, and it had taken just one letter to send it all crashing down.

These are the next ones getting cut from the collection. I’m finally basically done with collecting I might try out 2 other knives but either way I’m thankful I’m not getting 5+ knives a month 😅anyways
Timestamp
Starting off is my ferrum forge stinger. Not sure who modded the knife but the front scale was anodized a nice lighting pink color with a bit of blue and the back was lighting anod. Actions smooth and centering is perfect. I did chip the tip once and I grounded the spine to give myself a new tip. Blade is sharp but could use another sharpening. No scratches or anything from what I can see. Only some snails on the clip. Hoping to get $120. Will come with the small pouch. Pics and vids
And last but not least is my dammed designs invictus. Was modded by u/jk22vb it Has a super nice and grippy bark texture on the scales and the hardware is a nice very very dark blue. Action is solid centering is perfect and it was recently sharpened. No scratches on the blade but it looks like some tape residue is still on there. Haven’t been able to get it off. Hoping to get $110.
Invictus pics and vids

This little piece I wrote because I have zero mental energy to write something I care too much aobut the format and quality, and i've been wanting to have a look at this topic for a while.
Don't expect a lot of quality, but here have a thing.
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[This video is shown in its raw form for purposes of transparency of the procedures. For the edited version please visit the Emergency Services Guild public-facing site]
[Content Warning: This video contains images of both stampedes and wartime stampede incidents of the following situations: Human First Contact, Operation Blindside, Sillis Occupation, Kolshian Scouting of Venlil Prime]
[This video will be subtitled instead of utilizing audio translation]
The camera’s view is completely obscured by a grey mass “I think it’s running, can you check it for me?” says a deep bassy voice of a human.
“Yes, i’m getting the audio and a very good closeup for your shirt” the voice of a venlil sounds hoarse
The grey mass recedes and the room becomes visible. A large naturally-lit room of plain appearance, there is a long table set in the center of it surrounded by chairs, the table itself is clearly designed with a holographic projector and at the far end of the room there is a large display.
There are seven people present, three humans dressed in grey outfits with red highlights, each one of them with a different insignia emblazoned on their breast but all three of them have similar themes, a helmet, an axe and a ladder is present on all three designs. Four venlil represent, two with sashes of office with the white with red stripe color and the exterminator’s pyre-and-shield insignia and two with armbands with the red pawprint.
“Alright, before we start the actual meeting, can I ask why are they here?” says one of the humans, well-built and with a lighter complexion, pointing at the two venlil with sashes.
“Because it’s part of our job? Because we’re involved?” says the one with greyish wool and dark spots
“I’m sorry if i’m skeptical why an exterminator is in a meeting involving public safety and stampede response”
“Because” the venlil’s voice becomes louder “It’s our job. And I’m already brahking tired of this whole act. I’ve heard every variation of ‘you shouldn’t be the ones doing this’ you can imagine. Every human I’ve met has said this, multiple times” he slams his fists on the table
“And I brahking agree, look!” he points at one of the venlil with the armbands “Our jobs literally overlap, why do we even HAVE this overlap? What could the exterminator’s guild do in a stampede that the emergency services guild couldn’t? Why is it that any job that requires you to have the slightest bit of tail to do it they drop on us? I don’t brahking know!” he’s taking deep breaths “So… Why don’t we skip this part and just get to the meeting?”
The humans are taken aback, while it seems like the venlil were quite unfazed at the sudden energetic outburst in a strange reversal of the usual reactions. “Not… Quite what I was expecting” that first human adds “Alright, I’ll keep my thoughts to myself for now”
With that, the human that had been adjusting the camera sits down and the arrangement of seating is visible clearly: The four venlil are on one side of the table while the three humans are on the other. One of the venlil with the armbands speaks up “We are gathered at this moment for a presentation of the United Nations’ Extraplanetary Emergency Response Division’s research on the nature and possible mitigation of stampedes”
“Present for this meeting are three human representatives of the UNEERD, Captain Fabia” a human female with short crimson hair and wiry build nods “Captain Jorge” the first human nods “And Captain Ishikawa” a human much taller human with shortly cut dark hair and mildly reddened skin speaking of a disagreement with the eternal twilight nods.
“Present are also four venlil representatives. Representing the Exterminator’s Guild are Division Lead Toss” the venlil who had the outburst earlier nods “Of the Stampede Response division, Division Lead Tunam” a venlil with a strangely reddish coat halfway between pink and red nods “Of the Behavioral Studies division” the speaking venlil himself, best identified by an eyepatch on his right eye, nods “Representing the Emergency Services Guild is me, Division Lead Onam of the Stampede Response division, and Division Lead Liram” the venlil beside him nods, a woman with a distinctive vertical striping pattern “Of the Medical Response division.”
Onam takes a deep breath “You may begin the presentation, Captain Jorge” he’s being incredibly professional
With that, Jorge uses a holopad to summon an image on the monitor at the far end, a simple bullet point list “Though all present here already know, I’ll state it for the record. The ESG has requested from the UNEERD an independent study of mitigating techniques for stampede events, both to help us increase our understanding of the local needs and to acquire an outside perspective that may improve their own understanding”
“We will be presenting our current findings, which have proven to be pretty surprising in my opinion” he gives another command to his holopad moving to the next slide “I’ll begin with the most important finding before we look into how we’ve reached this conclusion. But in effect, a proper stampede event can actually severely reduce to completely eliminate casualties in a situation of panic, however, those events can devolve into panicked flight as well as not every species is capable of those”
At that, Toss tilts his head to the side “Of all things… Stampedes preventing casualties? That’s really difficult to believe”
Ishikawa offers a shrug “I know. I’ll be honest we kind of came into this with, let’s say… A bit of a bias against you. But the observations held true, and it turns out the situation is considerably more complex than it seems”
Jorge nods “Take note this is mostly a preliminary study, we don’t have a lot of data of the sort we needed.” he pulls up another bullet list in the screen “Our work was focused more on the behavioral end, as you’ve more than proven to have the infrastructure and technical superiority here, but we have found a distinct lack of behavioral studies on stampedes”
Tunam takes a deep breath “Sure. More stuff we got wrong, as always” but before one of the humans can say something he waves dismissively with his tail “It’s alright, you’re just doing your job. It just gets exhausting hearing this every damn paw. Sorry for the interruption, please continue”
Jorge has a look on his face for a moment, something like worry and sympathy, before continuing “We have performed our studies by examining footage of stampede events with specific characteristics. First, monospecies events, with three examples. The stampede events during our first contact, as a sample of stampede events amongst the Venlil, recovered footage of an event in the Cradle during Operation Blindside, as a sample of stampede events amongst the Gojid. Take note that while this particular footage was from a situation far from any attack sites and before the arxur invasion, the reliability of it is shaky because of the wartime situation. And a stampede event on Sillis that happened recently in response to peacekeeper forces”
As he talks, three of the bullet points light up “Additionally, we later compared stampede events involving multispecies groupings. Particularly we have studied the very recent events here on Venlil Prime during the kolshian threat as well as a second event that occurred on Sillis involving a damaged dam” the last two bullet points light up
The female firefighter pipes up “We’re going to treat you like adults here but early warning we’re not going to be censoring any of the footage. I imagine given you all work with this there shouldn’t be anything you’re not familiar with”
The one-eyed venlil makes an assentive motion with his ears “Sadly, we’ve all seen enough of the carnage to be used to it”
Jorge moves on to the next slide, which contains video. He passes the holopad off to the human woman at his side “Your turn, Fabia”
She nods “We’ll start by examining this footage of the first contact. First tell me if there’s anything unusual you notice here” she says, letting the footage play. It’s an aggregation of a few different cameras, apparently from residential apartments. It shows the residents, all Venlil, running away from their apartments and spilling over in the streets, the residents of each apartment building start running towards where presumably the nearest bunker is. It only takes a few moments before they start pushing each other out of the way and the ones at the fringes of the herd end up unable to follow the group as the ever-growing mass of people start to push them against the walls of the buildings and side streets, a little while longer the first tramplings start to happen.
Tunam has had a very careful eye on the footage “This looks like a textbook case of a stampede. Nothing particular to it” he flicks his ear to the side
Taking the sign, Toss adds in “Dreadful, as always, but not even the worst example I’ve seen”
Onam sighs “I remember that one. Wouldn’t want to be those two knowing all of this was caused by them. But still, a pretty normal stampede, if anything a mild one”
Liram makes a dismissive wave of her tail “Didn’t even manage to overflow the hospitals, so i’m calling that one a win”
The sunburnt human bites his lower lip, trying to keep something inside. But ultimately it spills over “How bad is it for those kinds of responses?” it’s not so much an accusatory tone as much as a sad one.
“Very” is the only answer Onam gives.
At that, Fabia waves “And here is where a human, or more specifically outsider perspective helped.” she presses a couple of controls in the holopad, rewinding the footage to the start “I want you to pay attention to how this particular herd moves, just the one from the beginning of the video”
The footage plays again, showing the residents of the apartments rushing out, most take the stairs while a few take the elevators. There’s parents carrying their pups and some elderly being rushed along. The footage switches to the outside view where the whole herd of venlil from the apartment seems to erupt out of the front doors at the same time, it follows them for a bit until they’re closer to another group leaving their residence before Fabia pauses “Here’s where we noticed something, how much panic do you see in here?”
It’s Tunam’s turn to respond “Normal levels, i’d say, nothing out of ordinary. Which, they were expecting a raid or worse, so keep that in mind.”
Fabia nods “And that’s why the difference is important. Pay attention to their movement” she rewinds to the moment where they’re leaving the apartment building “Pay close attention to their feet” she zooms the video
The four venlil focus on it, seemingly unable to see what is happening “It takes humans at least months of training to be able to do this. They’re all moving in perfect synchrony” she rewinds one more time, and with the information out there it’s clear that at this point, this herd’s footsteps are moving in perfect lockstep “And I have severe doubts those people have any sort of training”
Onam turns his one good eye towards Fabia, then back at the footage, then back at Fabia “That… Yes, I can see that. But that has to be a fluke, if that is true then we wouldn’t have tramplings”
In response, Fabia changes footage. It shows a different apartment building, but the contents are similar: Up until the herd is a good distance away from the building their movement is synchronous and even the exit, though clearly panicked, seems to flow without injury. She shows footage from three more apartments “We thought that too, but this pattern repeats every time. This is a level of instinctive organization that’s, to me, supernatural. But at some point it breaks down”
The medical lead had his eyes closed in thought for a while now “That… Now that you say that… Stampede injuries are always outside. Well, no, not always of course. But less than twelve percent of them happen inside buildings, the vast majority happens on the streets”
The human woman passes the datapad aside, Ishikawa picks it up and calls up the footage again. It’s the same as the initial one, but it shows two herds approaching “And here’s where it breaks down. Look” he plays it as everyone pays much closer attention to the details of the video. The two different herds simply crash into each other, causing people to fall over and the two previously-synchronized groups to fall completely out of order.
Tunam’s tail swipes a short arc forwards “Ah, I see. Each herd is acting like a single unit at that point, so this situation is like two people running into each other. Now they’re on the floor and confused” he stares as the footage continues, and what was two groups ends up splitting into four completely disorganized groups “And the herds are unable to reform after that”
“This is where i’m going to introduce some specific terms we’re using here” Ishikawa adds “Specifically we’re referring to the organized movement portion as a ‘stampede’ proper. The situation where everything breaks down and they are completely disorganized we’re referring to as ‘panicked flight’, much how it is for us humans. And this specific situation that caused the breakdown of the stampede we’re calling an ‘impact’ event, given it was two herds impacting against each other”
Ishikawa then changes to a different piece of footage “And this will be the second breakdown situation we’ve recognized, a ‘command failure’ event.” he starts the footage, it’s a proper stampede, the video is from a camera on a defensive bunker proper, the masses trying to get inside are visible at the bottom of the image. Something happens in the incoming stampede, it slows down a little bit, before suddenly the back half overtakes the front half, tossing people into the ground.
“Notice how the approaching herd seems to be behaving as we’ve initially expected, even going so far as slowing down to prevent from barrelling into the people waiting to enter the bunker” he adds, before rewinding to just before the breakdown and zooming the video “But notice here, at some point those two start having a discussion while they run” the video is zoomed on a pair of venlil who seem to be shouting, though the video has no audio “Shortly after, the entire formation breaks and the rear speeds up, trampling the front”
The crimson venlil adds “They were following the one on the right…” he has a certain tone of awe on his voice “They all had their attention trained on him”
At that the female firefighter makes a questioning noise “How’d you figure that out?”
Tunam does a quick sideways flick of his ears in a dismissal move “I guess you don’t know how to see where we’re focusing our attention on when we don’t have to turn our entire heads for it. But pay attention to the ears, when they’re completely upright to take in sound they’ll be tracking whoever the focus is. As you can see, they were all focusing on the one on the right, which was the one being yelled at” he focuses on the now still image for a while “You can see he has his tail in his hands, while the one yelling at him has his chest first ruffled out.” his eye seems to focus beyond the image now “This herd didn’t break down because of another, but they lost guidance, is that it?”
Jorge sighs, but he has a slight smile “See, I told you it’d be wise to have at least one venlil in our team. Just from being able to read their body language he skipped past two weeks of comparisons”
Ishikawa gives a light sigh “But that’s correct. This is a ‘command failure’ situation. We’ve noticed that in every stampede there seems to be someone that works at least as pace setting, if not straight up herd leader. It seemed in cases to mostly be arbitrary, but once someone got in that position everyone would follow that one”
Jorge picks up the holopad again “Next up” the screen changes again, it’s another video that is quite clearly not on Venlil Prime “This one happened during peacekeeping operations on Sillis…” there’s a certain inflection of disgust in the human’s voice as he mentions ‘peacekeeping’ “You probably already know what to expect but I want you to focus on the differences here”
The video that plays out starts with what seems like a protest in front of a UN field base, the recording is from the body cam of a soldier on top of a watchtower. There’s a moderate mass of tilfish with all sorts of signs, there’s shouting. The camera turns to show an APC get close to the mass from inside the base, there’s shouting from the human guards but nothing happens, until the APC revs up its engine heavily. At the angry roar of the vehicle the protesters started to bolt, four large groups forming in different directions.
The camera follows one such group as it starts heading off down a street, unlike the venlil stampedes this one starts from moment zero with trampling and people moving into each other. At some point it’s visible someone at the middle of the formation seems to hesitate and slow down, causing the entire mass to slow down for a moment, and then someone else near the slower raises their arms. At this point this is too far from the soldier’s body camera to catch noise, but what seems to be a discussion has happened, and suddenly the stampede speeds up and the scene that follows gets considerably worse as the mass turns into a tangle of limbs cross across eachother and tearing itself apart as they try to move in the same general direction.
“It started bad” says Toss “But it got worse. I’ve never seen a stampede get worse like that”
Onam puts his tail on the table, tapping the surface gently with it “It happens as it grows in size but this group didn’t change. That did seem like a command failure situation causing it to get even worse, yes, but they seemed to already be very out of sync from the start”
The human with the holopad nods “And that’s the biggest failure of your treatment of stampedes showing itself.” he rewinds the video to when the APC starts roaring “And honestly, we were stuck on that failure mode for a while too until one of the younger members of our team spoke their mind. Pay closer attention to the amount of damage that is happening during the stampede here” they all lean closer as they watch the start again “How many wounds are you seeing?”
It’s the one-eyed venlil that answers “None… They’re not trampling eachther, they’re climbing each other, and walking under the others, somehow without hurting themselves?” his voice has a definite awe to it.
Jorge nods “Yep. Tilfish, both from their body plan and however way their kinesthetic sense works, appear to be fully capable of moving over, through and under each other like they weren’t even there. That seems to be pretty unique to their species”
It’s the red furred venlil that comments now “But they lose that coordination when the command failure happens, so they start to miss their movements and now we have limbs tangled on themselves and tearing themselves apart”
“Comparing medical reports from this with medical reports from the first incident with just venlil” starts the female firefighter “We see different wound patterns. A monospecies panicked flight of tilfish will lead primarily to damaged and removed limbs while one of venlil will lead to crushing wounds. Because your herd movement patterns and capacities are different, when the stampede fails into panicked flight the wounds are different”
Liram tilts her head to the side “That’s what you meant. We… Speh, the entire federation, has been treating stampedes like they behave the same for every species” her tail swats left to right for a while with an excessive amount of force “But this makes sense. And I presume you have an example of a species that doesn’t stampede up next, right?”
Jorge nods, moving to the next video. It shows a wide, long street “This one was recovered from the Cradle, this happens during the strikes on the orbital defenses but before the first orbital drop. Meaning, long before any ground operation starts” the video is sped up considerably at the start, the trickle of gojid into the streets is slow as to require that, but the flows from the buildings and side streets slowly thicken as more and more people start fleeing away from the camera’s direction. The mass that forms is enormous, taking up the entire street, and to flows and moves as if it wasn’t a mass of people, not even like a mass of animals, but it flows like a river, like it ceased to contain living beings and it now contained fluid particles.
Tunam, whose expression has been growing more and more serious by the moment, initiates “I… I’ve never seen a stampede like… It really shows the difference seeing the comparison, here we didn’t have groups forming at exit points and leaving, we have a slow trickle until the mass of people is…”
Ishikawa nods “Until the mass of people starts behaving like a fluid, completely detached from the will of the people inside of it” he puts his elbows in the table “Very much how it works with humans. At that point, you just need to let the flow move you and hope for the best, while trying to keep yourself safe”
Jorge zooms in the image, which appears to be sufficiently high quality to get detailed images of any particular member of the mass “You can even see the measures they take to prevent harming themselves” he directs the zoom to an area where you see the gojid have somehow arranged themselves back-to-back and front-to-front as they’re pushed and shoved, trying to avoid harming themselves on each other. It’s visible, however, they have no control over the motions as they’re simply being moved by the mass. One unlucky woman trying to hold on to some form of backpack gets pulled under the mass of bodies by the article. Most gojid seem to be taking conscious effort to keep their quills from flaring out, but many are failing and some trickle of blue can be seen on some backs
“Of course” the zoomed out area directs to a different section while zooming out “This is neither instinctual nor organized, as you can see the vast majority of the cases are like… This…” the best description of the moving mass of very sharp people being dislocated by nothing but panic and fluid forces is… A meat grinder. There’s more blue than brown visible and the speed with which the human moves the video elsewhere is quite indicative of how none of the present trained emergency workers had the stomach to witness it.
Liram has stood up “By the void… But- But- There’s gojid population on this planet! I’ve never seen anything like this when they’re involved!” there’s straight up panic in her voice.
With a command, Jorge moves on to the next slide “And that segues well into the next topic of research, multispecies stampedes” there’s a still image of a large street in the capital, mostly empty at this point “As you can imagine there’s behavioral differences in multispecies situations”
Jorge passes the holopad over to Ishikawa “This one is pretty recent, hell I still remember it myself. The kolshian probing attack” the video starts, and for a few seconds the slow foot traffic of the mostly empty street seems undeterred. Then, most everyone still walking the streets, which here in the capital means a variety of species from venlil and human to takkan and iftali, picks up their holopads at once. And with different degrees of urgency and reading speed, they start running.
Nothing seems to progress further than that other than people entering buildings, but after a while longer it happens, groups start leaving the buildings in large herds “As you can see” Ishikawa pauses “We see them exiting buildings in large groups, just as the stampeding species do” he let it play again. Just like in the first two videos the large groups seem to be moving roughly in coordination within themselves, but it seems to be a much more frail kind of coordination as the group’s form changes and shifts as the people inside adjust their position.
Ishikawa zooms into one of the groups “Here, check their movement” it’s visible that only a portion of them is moving in actual synchrony, the venlil as well as a pair of sulean and three krakotl seem to be moving very much in lockstep, and one human who seems to be acting as a leader as she points and shouts. Meanwhile the other humans, two takkan and a gojid aren’t moving quite in synchrony but seem capable of keeping themselves in formation thanks to the others around them. “Here we see the effect of a mixed species setting. The stampeding species manage to give enough structure to the group that the others can follow”
Tunam is staring intensely at the video “But that’s a very fragile configuration, isn’t it? The ones organizing on instinctive drive can’t possibly keep this much structure for long? Without training this is going to break down quickly”
Ishikawa nods “That’s what we thought as well but…” he lets the video play, and they watch that mass of bodies continue to move mostly organized down the street. At some point another equally mixed group starts approaching from the side, but one of the takkan appears to start shouting. But instead of things breaking down, what happens is that both groups merge together, there’s some minor bodily impacts but from the visible motions of the group there’s some shared apologies and they continue moving at a slower speed, matching the speed of the second group “That doesn’t happen, the whole situation is even more stable”
The video continues for a while, and Ishikawa zooms to the front of the formation. The human who’d been the apparent leader taps rather violently a venlil on the shoulder. There apparently seems to be a verbal altercation, but both give each other affirmative visual cues and the venlil speeds up a little bit. And the rest of the herd matches pace as the group changes direction to another street “And this is a smooth change of command, presumably the human that’d been the unofficial lead figured out who knew the shortest path to the bunker and they’ve began following him instead”
The crimson venlil sinks down in his chair “That’s… I’ve never seen a stampede move quite like that, even multispecies ones. It has to be you…”
“Much as i’d love to give us all the credit” Jorge starts “I don’t quite think it is. Or rather, it’s not something i’d say is inherently human. If it was, once that group changed command they’d break down, or it wouldn’t be able to merge that easily with a takkan mediating. No, I think it was just those specific humans being able to keep their cool that helped it.”
He looks at Tunam for a half second before continuing “Everyone else seems to be… Very prone to panicking quickly. And while we’re just as prone to panic we don’t seem to get there as fast as the others. For some reason. Keeping a bit of a calmer head allows the prevention of command failures and the overall effect of reducing the panic level in a herd enough that any member present has enough wits to negotiate through an impact as well”
Upon noticing Tunam’s souring expression, Ishikawa gives the pad another command to move on to the next video “To give a bit more context to an important part of the behavior we’re analyzing here, we have this one footage of what is essentially a stampede event, but not one most people would recognize as such”
It seems to be footage of Sillis again, most obvious by the number of tilfish present. The footage is from a cargo hauling drone in a work site by a river at the bottom of a dam. There are a handful of humans, a half dozen venlil and a gojid all wearing construction uniforms identifying them as part of one of the UN relief forces, the various tilfish around are also wearing bright construction vests and protective gear and with the exception of two of them, they seem to be trying their best to stay away from the others. Suddenly, the gojid who’s near the river looks down at his feet, then starts running away shouting. At that everyone other than the tilfish start running as well, the group slows down for a moment as the tilfish workers run towards the group and they all continue together up a hill. A few seconds after they crest the hill there’s suddenly water in the worksite as the dam cracks and collapses. The group stops at the top of the hill, and quickly they’ve brought up holopads to start doing damage assessment as a few head closer to the rushing waters.
“This, as you can see, looks nothing like what you expect out of a stampede. We’ve interviewed those workers remotely to get a better grasp of what happened” Fabia adds “Thanks to their sensitivity to ground vibrations, the gojid worker caught the dam’s damage early and called for the others to run, which caused the work crew to evacuate to higher ground.” she waves at Ishikawa, who rewinds the video and zooms on the group as it runs “As you can see, we have the organized movement of a stampede proper” and known his cue he skips ahead to the group on top of the hill “And they stopped quickly, as well.
The human with reddened skin rewinds the video again to show the moment the group slows down “And here’s the particular detail I want you to pay attention to. Notice the group formed when the gojid called out the emergency, but only two tilfish joined it. The two that were already talking with the UN forces”
Onam tilts his head, clearly in thought as his blind eye is facing the screen now “You’re saying there’s an influence of familiarity?”
In answer, Ishikawa shakes his head in negative “Yes and no, we believe this is an effect of threat-assessment. The two that trusted the veracity of the information about the danger moved as quickly as the rest of the herd, which had managed to form thanks to the presence of the venlil and tilfish. Only after the other tilfish recognized those two did they start moving”
“And the whole group slowed down for them, without breaking apart” the crimson venlil adds “This is very much not anything we’d consider a stampede, however as you said the synchronized movement happens and they even managed to clear through the obstacles in a surprisingly safe manner on the way out”
Jorge picks up the holopad again and moves on to the next slide “So to sum up our theories. Certain species have an innate capacity of large-numbers collective movement, what we call a stampede is simply that natural capacity displaying itself during mass flight. That capacity can be harnessed to reduce casualties of panicked flight by giving the moving group an organized form, but only as long as the organization can be sustained. This mass movement capacity also applies to situations where other species would still perform in an organized fashion, but its instinctive nature severely speeds up the process.”
Before he can continue, however, Tunam mutters a little too loudly “But the results you’re going to give us are going to be the same brahking thing as always”
Jorge ignores the muttering “To begin with we’re going to suggest a system similar to the fire brigades we have on Earth. Essentially, any group large enough, such as a company or an apartment building, needs to have a handful of people with some training in emergency procedures for fire escape, so they can guide the rest of the people.”
Ishikawa intrudes “And in countries with higher seismic activities like mine, those procedures also include how to deal with earthquakes for example”
Jorge nods, and takes a deep breath “Look, I’m not going to sugarcoat it. Your threat-assessment skills are horrible, for some reason- No, I think for reasons we’re all acquainted well enough by now, you’re all very likely to jump at shadows, far more than you should. However, your flight responses are part of your nature, trying to fight your nature never, ever works, you always have to work with it.” he’s staring directly at Tunam, who has met his stare with his right eye “So the primary suggestion is to introduce a form of ‘emergency herd lead’ training in organizations so that we’re certain there are individuals capable of keeping command and a lower baseline of chaos during a stampede event as well as further research into better methods of performing such a function”
Tunam doesn’t flinch from the stare “Come on, say it”
“No. As much as I’d love to say something like what you think I will, I’ll be honest. You guys expect to face orbital bombardment threats with enough frequency that civilian bunkers are part of city planning. Not a human alive today could imagine living in this nightmare their entire lives, I’m going to give you some credit here. Plus, in real threat situations as seen in the last video, you have very beneficial threat responses.” Jorge adds
Jorge waits for a few moments, then continues “That concludes the presentation of the early findings and initial measures we’ve identified. It should be noted that this topic will require much further research, preferably from a multidisciplinary group with representatives of multiple species. Though those findings may be applicable at the present our suggestion is that any action taken at this moment be only provisional and on an experimental level until further research can be made”
Onam stands up “Very well, with that I declare the meeting concluded” he takes in a deep breath and sits back down, making an annoyed sound with his voice as he swats his tail to the side “What is it about you humans that you could see all those things?”
Fabia shrugs, sitting more relaxed in her chair “I don’t think it’s something special, we’re just outsiders with a different perspective.”
A loud screeching noise can be heard, and as everyone turns to face Tunam the source of the noise is visible as the hand he had on the table had dug its claws into it “It’s not like we haven’t found out those things before, isn’t it?” he doesn’t seem to be directing his words to anyone in particular
The one-eyed venlil tilts his head to the side “We did have that work group almost fifteen cycles ago. I remember they were considering a suggestion like what we just had right now, but the work group never went anywhere and we never got any real results”
Tunam stands up suddenly, sending his chair scattering “One more to the list I guess…” there’s a tiredness to his voice “I should figure out where they wound up…” he turns around and goes to leave “We’re done here, yes? I should go” and stalks out.
The remaining people in the room look at his exit confusedly, as Ishikawa comes over to turn off the camera the others can be seen leaving.

What I've mostly seen in the night sky is energy orbs. They move in various directions, and don't exist as a typical understanding of aircraft. People can write it off as gov, but what I've seen goes further. Yet, what I've seen of that sense, I don't think is all there is. I just think it's a particular phenomenon of something greater.
I'm at a point where I think it's mostly a magical thing, not a technological thing. I think aliens live among us already, like the movie 'Men in Black', but I don't think it's anything like the movie. I think there's a demonic force, but I don't think it's anything like religion. I think it's closer to goblin myths and mythological creatures and beings than something science fictional. Yet, I think that's only part of it.
I perceive it all run by dark or black magic. I think the dark magic tries to make the demonic aliens seem scarier and more powerful than they really are. I think the technology aspect was just to rope us into traps to be addicted to it. I think the technology we use is part of the black magic, and the entire agenda was so that if I mention a comment like this, it's sounds schizo and from the dark ages. That talks about aliens using magic, sounds like a paranoid conspiracy.
Last year, for a couple months, I cut myself off from a lot of things, including computers and cell phones. I realized that television is the main weapon. I started theorizing that if TV were a computer system itself, like 'Big Brother', can it invent and create whatever it wants in reality, kind of like 'Hunger Games'? If it's all simulation, is there any way to fight back? Did the aliens create TV and radio?
I found that the main weapon is studio laughter. 'Laugh at the crazy guy!'
So, I started digging through my own past, and realized the apathy of the US nation is controlled by studio laughter. I theorized it's part of a security system and is some type of government psyops program to apathetize the world, making TV seem godlike. I know that sounds crazy, but they even had studio laughter in 'Scooby-Doo'.
Once I got past the laughter, I noticed the 'hive mind' seemed like a security system too. Remember, if it's a simulation, then what's real?
The two main things that stood out are nature and the stars. I think the security system is designed to make one be cut off from the stars and nature. I think that's the main agenda. It sounds simple, but I really think that it just is. There's probably more to it, but when nothing can be trusted as truth, how would anyone really know?
Can anyone relate to this discussion? I don't care if you think I sound crazy. If you want to berate me for how crazy I sound, go ahead. I'm just trying to put a different spin on it, because when it's fantasy over science fiction, it's not as scary. What I'd like is to get the real truth, if any can be found.
One of the reasons I'm posting this is because people give a lot of comments in other posts that it's just a simulation. So, I'm also opening up the discussion for simulation.
If you think this is not about UFOs, I would put it back on the idea that what is being disclosed recently within media may be a diversion or half truth, or that everyone thinks it's about technology, when I'm suggesting it might be magical. So, in relation to what's coming out in the news, is the 'shipwrecked craft' a diversion of something bigger? Could the something bigger be magical, as opposed to technological? That's the connection, if you're trying to say that my post isn't on topic.

Am I the only one who finds Dating in your 30’s mind boggling and discouraging? I mean you’re in this awkwardly sweet spot of being too old or too young for people. I try to date somebody my age (30+) and I’m too young wtf lol. Anyway Im I’m living in a personal dating hell lol. SO here I am on Reddit, dragging myself from shores of the digital cesspools we call dating apps. I’m putting a serious effort in finding a warm, loving, loyal, genuine respectful person to call my life partner and enjoy life together. As Ozzy Osborne says “I’m shooting my shot in the dark” (great song btw)
I am a 33 year old professional from the east coast currently living in Southern California for the past 4 years and been single for 5 years sadly. I have an amazing career as a clothing designer and graphic artist and a clothing brand owner all of which is my dream jobs and occupations. I got to meet celebrities and work with them on numerous projects which is always exciting. My social life here is kinda dull since moving to California. I only get to interact with people if it’s networking in the industry, unfortunately I’m a shy guy. But when I open up to being comfortable I’m a total charismatic gem. I’m a very loyal, chivalrous, respectful, loving, genuine, thoughtful, monogamous, spontaneous, funny, patient, open minded, adventurous, intellectual. I’m also Very goal driven, motivating, and a supportive man always wanting the best for you and your life. I Can be clingy but not in a stalker smothering way, more so the type of guy who craves giving my undivided affection and attention to who I’m with 110%. I want the person I’m with feel loved and thought about 24/7. Willing to relocate wherever for the right one if it gets to that point. Just to be with you ❤️.
Physically…I look like a potato 😂 jk I’m 6ft tall 180 lbs ( definitely in shape) Mixed race of black and Chinese, nice light brown /caramel skin, long braided auburn colored hair ( alien hair honestly because it naturally changes colors with the temperature outside) 6 tattoos 2 nose piercings, brown eyes and I was always told I have nice eyes and godly eyelashes 🫥 which idk how to take but yea it’s a thing i guess lol. Heres some pics of me https://imgur.com/a/9I9JwxJ :) I dress very nicely from what I was always told. Most of the time I have a punk & streetwear meshed aesthetic.
My day to day bullshit aka hobbies and interest: •Making art is my ❤️ •Designing clothes for my brand •Go to the beach •Workout 5-6 days a week •Reading •Practice choreography and dance (I used to be in a competitive dance battle group Let me teach you some moves 💃🕺) •learning about space or nature •cooking (yes I can out cook you, don’t try it 😂) •infatuated with nature and the outdoors •learning and teaching new things •listening to good music •Gaming and streaming on twitch during the weekends and some weeknights after work. •I read manga and watch anime BUT let me put a disclaimer…THIS doesn’t mean I want to talk about this stuff all day everyday lol. Yes let’s watch something together or discuss a theory or two, but don’t wake up with it on your mind first thing in the day. It’s a turnoff tbh.
What I’m looking for in you? Yes…we all have a preference that’s totally normal. But some people are unreasonably picky lol. So first off ill say that I don’t care what religion or race you are or If you want kids or have one already. Those things don’t determine who will love me and vice versa. So come and talk to me I won’t reject you. However I do need a woman that’s:
•Goal driven and goal oriented. •Monogamous •Knows what she wants in life and in a man •Funny, smart, respectful, not afraid to commit (like me), loving, imperfect, genuine, seriously loyal, feminine, supportive, educated, non political, outgoing, loves to travel/explore. •looking for a serious long term relationship •Cultured •Physically active and healthy (not saying you need to be a model or even close but at least be active or in shape like I am. I used to be obese years ago and I don’t plan on going back and I see WAYYY too many woman demanding a fit male but don’t even want to workout themselves.) •Drug free and std free (I’m 420 and psychedelic friendly) •26+ in age living in the U.S, definitely a plus if you live in California.
So hopefully you made it this far, hopefully I caught somebodies eye, hopefully the love of my life is reading this…please send an introduction of yourself with a SFW selfie. Please be local or in California. It’s easier for us to see each other and bond 💜
Thank you for reading this. There’s so much more about me for you to learn, in a good way lol.
TLDR: I need a boothang to make my queen ❤️😊

I'm looking for a doll with a skin tone to match Signature Looks #3 (Kit) with a dark blonde or light brown hair. Purple or pink would do as well. Doesn't have to be a Fashionista, it can be articulated - I just want to put her on a petite body. Obviously has to be still on the market. Any ideas?

Clarice Lispector
The Servant
Her name was Eremita.* She was nineteen. A confident face, a few pimples. Where was her beauty? There was beauty in that body that was neither ugly nor pretty, in that face in which a sweetness eager for greater sweetnesses was its sign of life.
As for beauty, I don’t know. There may not have been any, though indefinite features attract as water attracts. There was, indeed, living substance, nails, flesh, teeth, a mixture of resistances and weaknesses, constituting a vague presence that nonetheless immediately solidified into an inquisitive and readily helpful head, as soon as someone uttered a name: Eremita. Her brown eyes were untranslatable, at odds with her whole face. As independent as if they’d been planted in the flesh of an arm, and were peering at us from there—open, moist. She was made entirely of a sweetness bordering on tears.
Sometimes she’d answer with a servant’s ill-breeding. She’d been like that since childhood, she explained. Not that it stemmed from her character. For there was nothing hard about her spirit, no perceptible law. “I got scared,” she’d say naturally. “It made me hungry,” she’d say, and whatever she said was always indisputable, who knows why. “He respects me a lot,” she’d say of her fiancé and, though it was a borrowed and conventional expression, whoever heard it entered a delicate world of animals and birds, where all respected each other. “I’m embarrassed,” she’d say, and smile, entangled in her own shadows. If her hunger was for bread—which she ate quickly as if it could be taken away—her fear was of thunder, her embarrassment was of speaking. She was kind, honest. “God forbid, right?” she’d say absently.
Because she had her absent moments. Her face would get lost in an impersonal and unwrinkled sorrow. A sorrow more ancient than her spirit. Her eyes would pause, vacant; I’d even say a bit harsh. Whoever was next to her suffered and could do nothing. Except wait.
Because she was devoted to something, that mysterious infant. No one would have dared touch her right then. You’d wait a little solemnly, heart constricted, keeping an eye on her. There was nothing you could do for her except hope for the danger to pass. Until in an unhurried movement, almost a sigh, she’d rouse herself as a newborn goat rises on its legs. She had returned from her repose in sorrow.
She would return, you couldn’t say richer, but more reassured after having drunk from some unknown fount. What you could see is that the fount must have been ancient and pure. Yes, there was depth in her. But no one would find a thing if they descended into her depths—except depth itself, as in the dark you find the dark. It’s possible that, if someone pressed ahead, they’d find, after walking miles through the shadows, the hint of a path, guided perhaps by a beating of wings, by some trace of an animal. And—suddenly—the forest.
Ah, so that must have been her mystery: she had discovered a trail into the forest. Surely that was where she went during her absences. Returning with her eyes filled with gentleness and ignorance, eyes made whole. An ignorance so vast that inside it all the world’s wisdom could be contained and lost.
That was Eremita. Who, if she rose to the surface with everything she had found in the forest, would be burned at the stake. But what she had seen—on what roots she had gnawed, on what thorns she had bled, in what waters she had bathed her feet, what golden darkness held the light that had shrouded her—she didn’t speak of all this because she didn’t know about it: perceived in a single glance, too fleeting to be anything but a mystery.
Thus, whenever she emerged, she was a maid. Who was constantly being summoned from the darkness of her trail for lesser duties, to do the laundry, wipe the floor, serve someone or other.
But would she really serve? For if anyone paid attention they’d see that she did the laundry—in the sun; that she wiped the floor—wet from the rain; that she hung the sheets—in the wind. She found ways to serve much more remotely, and other gods. Always with the wholeness of spirit she had brought back from the forest. Without a thought: just a body moving calmly, a face full of a gentle hope that no one can give and no one can take away.
The only sign of the danger through which she had passed was her furtive way of eating bread. In all else she was serene. Even when she pocketed the money her mistress had forgotten on the table, even when she took her fiancé supplies wrapped in a discreet bundle. Pilfering was something else she’d learned in her forests.
* “Hermit. “

Summary: A labor dispute coupled with an outbreak of unknown disease pushes all sides to war and a new truth.
I Was a Pilot on Strike. This is Why We Went Back to Work.
I was the second in command activist pilot in the Union based at O'Hare International, the unofficial headquarters of the strike movement. I remember when our strike started to heat up very vividly.
Fred, our Union boss, and Leo, the first in command activist, were sitting in the pilot's lounge, watching the tv coverage flash our picket lines from airports across the country. Something like “what do we want? The Package. When do we want it? Now!”
The Package was the nickname for our list of demands which included more security in the wake of the so-called Body Bombings last year, better pay and benefits, more job security, and perhaps, most controversially, cleaner fuel and fuel efficiency standards for current and future airliners.
The TV chirped up again, “well, folks its the twenty first day of the pilot strike most jets have been grounded now for the last eighteen as the pilots and their associated ground personnel unions have occupied major airports – only major international carriers at the coastal hubs are landing or departing now as we've seen a huge increase in train and car travel as we approach the fourth of july weekend. That's right, and our next top story as we gather for the holiday for first time after the omicron wave, health officials are advising to watch out for symptoms of a new skin...”
Fred hit mute on the remote. Fred was a balding, thick man, with thick arm hair, rolling over his grizzled sun burned flesh like barbed wire.
Leo lit up a cigarette. Leo was short, thin, and young in his looks but old, like faux 50's old in his heart. “There's no smoking in here, Leo,” Fred said sternly.
Leo didn't flinch.
Then Fred broke a smile and chuckled.
“Media bums aren't even interested in what we want anymore.” I said.
“Only these media bums. Follow the money.” Leo mumbled over his cancer stick. “That media group got a lot of money out of the bailout. Probably more than us.”
Fred looked at his watch, “We should probably get going.”
“Make em sweat for once, for Christ sake.” Leo nearly spat out his smoke.
“I'm with Leo on this one, Fred” I said.
So we made the negotiators sweat a little longer.
About an hour later we finally met them at the table. We sat on the left, the various airline owners sat on the right. This was the third time during the last three weeks but now, there was a new guy at the head of the table, a Federal mediator.
The Mediator had black rimmed almost square glasses, thick gray hair, and a blotchy face, “I'm calling this meeting to order. Before I present this offer, I have impress upon both sides how essential it is we start our air travel again soon, both for the holiday but also the good of the country. I am at this time presenting a voluntary compromise – officially, the Federal government supports the pilots' initiative to enhance security in the wake of the last year's incidents and we are prepared to use some of the unspent bailout money to supplement private airliner's initiatives and spending. We are also sympathetic to pilots and ground crews positions on their pay and benefits. The Federal government, however, is not, at this time, interested in imposing nor supporting job security, nor fuel charges nor efficiency standards. I yield to the industry representatives for comment.”
The chief industry rep, Michelson Connery, was a young looking, smooth talking, sleaze bag with jet black hair from New Jersey who had a habit of touching his coke inflamed nose every five minutes or so.
“You know back in Jersey, we're used to being shaken down, as they say. Now we appreciate the nice talk, we appreciate your brass knuckles and tommy guns are firmly tucked away, we appreciate you're giving us a break or too, but a shake down is a shake down none the less. No deal. I yield.”
Fred sat up in his chair, his mouth agape, he cleared his throat while adjusting his microphone, “No deal.” He flopped back into his chair.
“Before we depart,” the Mediator quelled the commotion as both parties began to leave, “As I said the federal government has a strong interest in resuming flights as soon as possible, we are considering using our unique power to impose a settlement on the Union, if necessary.”
Fred lurched forward, “What kind of power? What kind of threat is this?”
“It's no threat.” The Mediator paused, “It's a threat to a threat, if necessary, we will invoke our powers under various emergency statutes to effectively Federalize pilots and ground crews – under those provisions, we would impose work or removal provisions to settle this.”
“That's total bull!” Fred lunged at the Mediator, “You're basically telling us all they have to do is wait it until you force us back to work! And what about the future? These efficiency standards aren't just about hippie dippie environmental stuff, its about fleet upgrades, fleet safety and thus worker and pilot safety!”
“Gentlemen, please, I putting something on the table and it has neither a definite nor indefinite timeline – in the meanwhile, your adversaries are hemorrhaging cash and depreciating their capital and you're folks – especially your ground crew union, are running out savings – I suggest you both, in good faith, consider the current and official Federal position in good time to sort this out sooner than later rather than a threat of a threat become a threat. Good day.”
Within hours, each side called a respective press conference. Industry denounced the compromise set out by the Feds while we denounced their denouncement. Neither side budged and neither side disclosed the Mediator's so called “threat of a threat”. We sat on the picket lines for another week as each side floated various non-serious proposals and misinformation in the media. We found ourselves back in the pilot lounge before our next round of serious negotiations. This time Fred and Leo were both smoking while I had to exhale bad news.
“The ground crew union is gunna crack first, Industry is offering them a side deal and I think they're gunna take it. They go back to work, it's gunna be next to impossible to leverage the whole of the hubs, then the scabs come in, they'll just work around us.” I told Leo and Fred. “Then we maybe we should float lower pay increases for ourselves. Overall, you pay the few pilots a little bit more, you pay the huge ground crew nothing more, that sounds like the win for us and Industry.” Leo pitched back. “Leo, where do we stand on public support?” Fred inquired.
“I don't know.”
“What do you mean you don't know?”
Leo clicked on the TV, “our top story tonight, farm fields across the country are now being seemingly afflicted by some kind of blight resulting in, at in some cases, widespread crop failures as the department of agriculture is mum. Meanwhile, more and more people are reporting severe skin deformations and damage while the CDC has been all but muzzled save for recommending that people stay inside and avoid direct sunlight. At this time there is speculation but no official word the crop blight and the skin disease are connected.” “See, it's all blight this, blight that.”
“So fake,” Fred said, “I've been out in the damn sun all week on the line and I've got nothing. Whatever the damn news wants to keep real progress from being made here. Anyway, I say we stay the course and we firm it up with the ground crews, have some solidarity.”
There was a knock on the door, “heh, maybe this good news.” Fred left his seat to open the door. A neutral representative walked through and announced the Federal Mediator has canceled the session. Leo and I brewed up from our seats to go raise holy hell with Fred at the mediator's delegation when all the television screens in the lounge turned to an Emergency Announcement Service message. Leo fumbled to unmute the television as the seal of the office of the President blasted on all the screens. “My fellow Americans, it is with great dismay that after nearly a month of grounded air travel across these great United States, because of a dispute over many complex issues, I am forced to use the power legislated to the executive branch by various emergency statutes, that I am announcing the immediate federalization of pilots and ground crews. Effective immediately, they will have a forty eight hour cooling off period before I am ordering them, as federal employees, to return to work or be dismissed. Also, their demands for higher pay and better benefits will be met in part by the conditions of Federal employment. I will be going to Congress, in the morning, to seek long term funding for our new national employees to secure their jobs for a long while. Any deviation from this will have significant physical consequences...”
The TV trailed off as representatives from the ground crews burst into the room in a ruckus, “Long term employment my ass! That jackass knows this is a bandaid – there's no way Congress is gunna pay us, in ninety days, we're as good as fired, begging for our old jobs with no retirement and no Unions.” Ground Crew Union Head Reggie Weston flipped off the TV. “I say, we sit on the damn runways after forty eight hours! You're with us, right? Can I get a yes yes?”
“And here we heard you were about to sell us out and now you're all about it huh?” Leo grumbled. “It was nothing like that. I swear. You know how much talk flies.” Reggie looked offended.
“I'm with Reggie, this is unbelievable, just like that our retirement plan, what? Probably gone? We're not employees anymore afterall. Forced to work – basically at gunpoint now. No. No. No.” I said. “Fred?” Leo prodded.
Fred stood there scratching his scalp in dismay and despair then he straightened himself up, took a drag off his smoke, and turned to us, “Tell all folks, we're going to war.”
We were a bit concerned some of the locals might pull off on the eve of the forty eight hour period but when the forty ninth came, they were steadfast and when they fired us, and then the cops came in, we were ready, both in the courts, and on the lines. On day four, ninety six hours after the announcement, the picket lines were more like trenches, and the pilot's lounge a war room. Each airport was a mini Battle of Blair Mountain. I had my arm wrapped up in an ice pack from a rubber bullet ricochet while Leo was still furiously blinking out yesterday's pepper spray. Fred hadn't been back from the riot on the runways.
Rocks, molotov cocktails scorch marks, and burned out tear gas canisters dotted the parking lots and tarmacs. Overturned vending machines, kiosks, and stacked chairs and tables from the food courts barricaded the concourses. A fire started in one of the hangers and it only just now started to burn itself out. They cut the power and we sweltered in that Midwest heat as we quickly discovered how poorly insulating all of the windows actually were. We had a few generators but they were being used to run the CCTV cameras which we connected to some of the TVs in the pilot's lounge so we could see which direction the next charge was coming from and send out warnings.
On the fifth day an injunction had been filed and granted against the entire federalization and the cops withdrew to their side of the no man's land. It wasn't a moment too soon as we the pilots and the ground crews were nearly depleted.
It was early that morning as the leadership started to gather in the pilot's lounge that we got our first of several mortifying discoveries.
Reggie held a flashlight to his bruised face as he announced, “We lost contact with our brothers at LAX and Denver International.”
“How? Why? Did they surrender?”
“I don't know about LAX but I got this out of Denver.” Reggie played a video on his phone. It was poorly lit and unsteady but in the dark of the early morning you could make out the sound and outline of two large transport helicopters. As they hovered for a landing, someone out of the frame shone a large flashlight against the side. The helicopters were civilian in design and bore the shield of a notorious private military contractor – the Blackdogs. Some one else shouts “get ready!” as black tactical troops streamed out of the choppers and the video abruptly ends.
“Oh my god!” I exclaimed, “They're gunna try to Pinkerton us.”
“What about the damn injunction?” Leo stormed.
“It's an injunction on the feds, the cops. These are private operators. I'm assuming that they're bought and paid for by Industry.”
“You think they're gunna kill us?” Leo pondered.
It was then, the for the first time, during all of this, even after taking that rubber bullet, that I felt real fear and real uncertainty about the outcome and justness of all of it. It was the first time I considered blinking. Then it got worse.
There was a commotion at the door as some of the ground crew and pilots pulled in a makeshift stretcher with Fred laying on it.
“Oh my God, what did they do to him?” Leo exclaimed as he came to help pull him into the room. There was too many people around to see Fred clearly, something like a towel was covering most his face and head. Fred could barely speak and was clearly in some kind of distress. My thought was tear gas but none had been fired for hours and usually someone inundated with it start everyone off into similar distress.
The crowd broke as I huddled in, I shown my flashlight around him to see.
“Pull it off, pull it off, they have to see” Fred gasped.
Some of the ground crew members pulled off the towel and I could plainly see Fred's face and head – what was left of it anyway. I staggered back a step.
“It's the Blight, guys, half of the ground crew, they look like this, now!” Fred yelled. “I can't, I can't feel any of it and I can't see!”
His eyes were whited out like he had severe cataracts and his head, most of his face, and arms were encrusted in bulging, asymmetric, blotches, lesions, and black marks of various sizes and textures. It looked like he had been horribly burned.
“Hey, guys!” Reggie barked out over the shock and attempts to help Fred. “Cameras are down!”
“Well when the shit did that happen?” Leo exploded as he buzzed around the jerry rigged monitors hoping to get signal back.
I picked up my radio and asked everyone to report in, the south, east, and west reported but the north was just static.
Leo tried to rally some of the guys helping Frank to head to the north but they and Fred protested saying there weren't enough guys without the Blight to go stop a push if there was one. Everyone was silent just a moment and in that moment we heard the sound of some thirty guns cocking just outside of the pilot's lounge door.
“Fred Little, Leo Jones, and Mark Debs, step out of the lounge slowly and peacefully, we wish to negotiate the end of this.”
“Fred is incapacitated,” I yelled back with a dry mouth, “Reggie Weston of the Ground Crew Union, Leo and I stepping down. Don't shoot.” I said sheepishly.
Leo and Reggie looked to me to push open the door as I did I was immediately blinded by the tactical lights of some twenty or so submachine guns.
The same voice came again, “keep stepping through the lights, that's it, nice and slow, no one is going to hurt you. I just want to talk and show you something.”
Leo and I made it past the lights into a glare lit spot of the terminal where the commander of this platoon of Blackdogs with his two personal retinue stood with their helmets off, “I'm commander Don Doughty. I'm here on behalf of country and I would like to share something with you.”
“Commander, with all due respect, there's an injunction in place.”
“I know, that's why this is a private operation, not a military or police one.”
“Look, we don't have to go with you.”
“Look, you do. Now I'm going to level with both of you. We stormed the other airports today, you probably heard, a lot of my company men are hurt, a few near death, but we know you're not holding out. We know most of you have the Blight now and that's why we're here.”
“Why you're here, huh? No dedicated medical personnel, no biohazard suits? Kind of strange for what you're saying is a mission of medical mercy for a disease of unknown origin?” Leo perked up.
“It's not unknown. In fact, it's one of the most common diseases around. What is still unknown is if I have to drag you to what I want to show you or if you'll come willingly.”
Leo and I looked at each other and then back at Don. He was disarming and rational, something I hardly expected but he also had our number and between the Blight and the willingness of the government to now literally put guns to our heads to go back to work, I had so many questions and he was offering the answers. Leo and I went willing. We stepped out of the terminal and took a motorized cart to the fuel hangers as Don requested.
On the cart, Don started to open up, “Leo, Mark, tell me what you know about chemtrails.”
Leo scoffed while I replied, “chemtrails, yeah, I've some whacko come up to me in a few bars shouting in my ear about how as a pilot I am unwittingly spraying geo-engineering materials to change the Earth or make global warming real or spreading COVID or nerve gas in contrails. The kookiness seems to change by season. Why?”
“Next question. Do either of you know what CFC's are?”
Leo piped up, “Chloroflorocarbons, I think. They used to be used in fridges and spray cans before they were banned in the 80's – virtually globally because they were screwing up the ozone layer.”
We arrived at the hanger where the fuel was stored. Another small group of Blackdog troopers had one of the ground crew members in detention near the partially open sliding door. His badge was gone but I recognized the ground crew member as part of the fuel truck lead team.
“What does this have to do with anything?” I asked. As we all were led into the hanger where the fuel trucks were stored.
Don, out of no where saluted the fuel truck leader. To my astonishment, the fuel truck leader saluted back. They shared a “semper fi – once a marine – always a marine!” and then Don beckoned him, “show them, it's okay, show them what you know, show them what you do.”
The fuel trucker turn a spigot on the back of the fuel truck nearest to him and splashed some jet fuel from the truck on the hanger floor and then shone a UV flashlight on it and the truck without any change. He muttered out, “Ordinary jet fuel.” Then, turning to the truck adjacent to him, he shone the same uv light and there was a square code marking that appeared on the back of the truck. He turned the spigot on that truck, splashed out a bit of the fuel and then shone the light on it. The fuel reflected back a dazzling brilliant display of glow as it flowed across the concrete. “Not so ordinary jet fuel.”
“Now you see gentlemen, for the past fifty years or so, we've known that CFCs were impacting the ozone layer and created a hole, you were told, like everyone else, that the hole was healing and mostly fixed after we banned CFC's and other substances. Well, in truth, that's only partially correct, its healing or mostly fixed because we fixed it, or more accurately, because the great people who work in the sky and ground, by sheer volume of air travel across the world, had been burning this modified fuel, depositing its unique chemical composition into the atmosphere at altitude to keep that ozone hole closed or at least as protective as possible. Without it, well, look at your boss, look at the fields of crops failing across the country, look at the hospitals around the country filling up with ionizing radiation burn and cancer victims. Without you, there's holes in the ozone breaking open all over the North American continent.”
“We really have been spraying chemtrails this whole time.” Reggie murmured.
“Now, let me explain to you how this is going to work – as we speak, other Blackdogs, funded by the Federal government, are infiltrating every airport in the country and showing the rest of your leadership the same thing you just saw. We're also showing this to Industry. We're getting you the Mediator's deal. You'll have your old jobs back, and while a handful of you will go to jail for the rioting, none of you will be convicted of felonies or serve time. That's the deal. All you have to say is yes and tell everyone to go back to work now and then, with you all back in the air and back on the ground, the Blight will end.
In the end we went back to work, we took the deal. If you can call it a deal. It wasn't a deal but essentially a reboot with a cost of living increase. The other option was that some of us would be imprisoned, fined, be out of a job and oh yes, Leo, Reggie, and I shot on spot.
We were sworn to secrecy over the truth about the ozone layer and chemtrails but I'm breaking it. I'm breaking it because you deserve the truth. I know that this will end up in the internet gutter realm of aliens and bigfoot but I don't care. I'm big guy, a big name, and if anything happens to me, like an “accident”, I'm pretty sure that would only lend credence to what I've told you here.
Happy landings.
Theo Plesha

Although I’ve owned all pre-switch mainline games in some form, I’ll only talk about which one I chose when I chose just one (3rd variants notwithstanding):
Red - I love Charizard and my brother prefers blue while I prefer red so we chose them respectively. When yellow came out, I was so desperate to get my hands on it because I loved Red!
Gold - gold is my favourite colour. Because of that, silver was my brother’s fave, cos rivals lol I didn’t get crystal at the time as I was getting older and kind of grew out of gaming for years as I went off to uni.
When I got back into gaming:
HeartGold - because I loved gold.
Black - I had no preference and for the first time when it came to games I was buying, there was no obvious “better colour” so I looked into the differences and what I read about black online sounded better to me than white.
Omega Ruby - it seemed like another Red vs Blue, so I went for the Red one.
Y - exactly the same as why I went with black over white.
Ultra Sun - I like sun, heat, light etc over dark and cold.
Moon - as I had Ultra Sun, when buying the previous generation (same generation, but previous iteration, whatever) I’d decided to go for the opposite.
White 2 - as I had black 1
Scarlet - I like Red more than blue, purple, pink etc although I think the exclusive Pokémon in violet actually looks better IMO.
Brilliant Diamond - I like diamonds, I don’t like pearls.
When going back to retro-game on the previous generations that I’d missed-
Leaf Green - because I’d played Red, and Green had always been known to me as the legendary Japanese version.
As I have Diamond in the form of brilliant diamond, I haven’t chosen diamond or pearl, I only really have them for the collection. The only one that I’m bothered about from that generation is Emerald which is a 3rd variant so I’m not counting it.
I don’t own SS or LGP/LGE but I’d choose sword because I prefer offence over defence in RPGs (swords are cooler) and LG Pikachu because it’s Pikachu, it’s Yellow remade, Eevee just doesn’t interest me as a starter Pokémon, especially if I can’t evolve it.
How did you choose yours and why? Please use the same rules (ie not referring to the 3rd version, only which of any mainline games you bought that were released in a pair)
In curious as to see the thought process behind the choices ☺️

first creepypasta, i am welcoming of feedback
just barely 2,000 words
I'm going to get everything off my chest, I have been seeing them since I quit my job and I do not think I will be able to convince you, so you must listen to me, before they come. I must tell my story, and I won’t be able to tell it twice; What I have seen shakes me to my core. But you must believe me.
I had just got out of university and found my first job on the underground, maintaining the tube tunnels beneath London: kilometres of wide cylindric tunnels that are black as night even during the day. The job seemed great, lots of pay for monitoring cameras and walking about underused passages to every now and then fix a broken pipe. I did both the night and daytime shifts with each having their own rules. You know the usual things, always check the cams always for broken equipment within the tunnels, if so, always check what trains are running in that area and which tunnels they are taking. Safety first. They were the rules management gave me, but upon arriving for my first day shift, I found a very different set placed upon my small desk. The page had almost yellowed with the left-hand side having 3 separate regular holes stapled into it. There were 2 glaring underlined phrases at the top and bottom of the page, Day Rules, and Night Rules. It read:
Rules for the day.
rule 1, always be checking cameras, especially the one pointed at the Y intersection, outside station ***********
Rule 2, if you need to leave the monitoring station, to repair a pipe or anything broken within the system always take a strong torch, they do not like strong lights.
Rule 3, when outside the monitoring room for any reason, do not under any circumstances make loud noises, unless masked by a train or something else, otherwise you will wake them up.
Rule 4, it should not be active during the day, but if you fail to follow rule 3, it will find you, you will see it, stay completely still and resort to your torch if you feel threatened.
Rule 5, if you see any movement from the right tunnel of y intersection mentioned previously, do not exit the monitoring room
Rule 6, never enter that right tunnel
The place where the night rules had been listed was absent, a hole in the page as though somebody had torn straight through it.
This unnerved me to say the least, with the little voice in the back of my head telling me it was fake, still I decided to follow the rules despite my scepticism, it is not as though they directly impacted my work or made me do anything to ludicrous.
So, I did as I was told, I watched cameras, listened to music, scrolled through reddit. That shift was overall quite relaxing. I managed to find the camera the rules were talking about in the top right of the monitor, it showed the two tunnels, with a singular red bulb giving light to the area, I squinted. There seemed to be something in the tunnel, it was short and thin almost unnaturally so, slightly hunched over by the side of the tracks just within the right tunnel. A lever? I ignored it, my mind is playing tricks on me it did seriously look like the lever for the junction with how almost ruler straight the outline stood. I noticed a burst pipe on another of the cameras, it was in one of the small maintenance tunnels, not too far from my room. I got up from the desk, picked up my torch from the hangar, put on my protective gear and headed out into what seemed to be a void. Lengths of endless dimly lit tunnels, I kept looking at my map. The monotonous corridors stretched on, endless lengths of concrete and metal. I heard something, it was quick and quiet, I struggle to remember, it almost sounded abrasive like something blunt scraping against the concrete wall. I reached the burst pipe, bringing out the tools on my belt to start repairing it, there were long thing gashes across the pipe, not large, quite small, but deep enough to break the thin metal casting on the series of pipes. It's odd I haven’t seen anything on cams. The quiet caused me to flinch, slowly broken with the regular hum of the white light above me, looking up from my work every so now and then, I managed to get into a rhythm. I should have brought my headphones.
A sudden pop pulled me out of my stupor, followed by a crash and the sound of breaking glass. I almost hit the roof of the tunnel, as it became cloaked in darkness. A knot began to form in my stomach as I felt tension creep across my face, rule 3, whatever the rule meant by something finding me, whether it was a prank by the night shift guy last night or whether the rules were actually real I did not want to find out. I decided the best form of action would be to quietly sneak back to the monitoring room, it was not that far and the lights at the distant end of the tunnel were still on. I started to move ever so quietly putting one foot Infront of the other, keeping my ears pricked, not easing the sudden paranoia.
I was close, I could see the door to the monitoring room at the other end of the corridor as I rounded the corner, suddenly bathed in light, it became slightly blurred as my eyes struggle to adjust, walking forward, and rubbing my eyes.
I turned around, I don’t know why, maybe it was instinct, or divine intervention, but that does not matter now. What I saw curling from around the corner, was a pair of hands, gently grasping around the hard corner, I almost missed them, they were nearly as pale as the grey wall. The nails gave them away. Black and long, ending in cracked and blunt ends.
I didn’t want to look any further, I dashed to the monitoring room. Slamming the door shut, locking it in an instant. Falling to my knees.
I told myself I had hallucinated, I cried and whispered to myself that I was hallucinating. It is just my surroundings, being cooped up in a room underground, the fuzziness in my eyes that were getting used to the glaring lights of the hallway endlessly watching or being cooped up in a room underground and watching cameras will do that to a person.
Cameras
I scrambled into my chair, whizzing the mouse around, the screen popped up. The camera outside my room showed nothing, nothing outside my door, nothing in the hallway, nothing where the light bulb had popped.
My shift was nearly over. But to leave I would have to walk outside and back through those passages to get back to the train station I had entered through. I waited a while, just sitting there, watching the second-hand rise and fall.
I finally wrestled the courage to peek through the small window, through the grating, I pulled the handle, it made a clicking, then a large groaning noise as I tiptoed out of the door. The tension in the air was palpable, and the eerie silence stung my ears.
I had gotten halfway by the time it started, at first, I could barely hear it, a distant sound that blended in with noises of creaking rails, pipes and the sound of trains going by, it sounded like the wind, I told myself, but as it became louder and louder, I stopped, and listened. It was like someone throwing marbles or dashing the concrete with gravel, it happened in short rapid bursts. I had just rounded a corner. The noise was still far off, 40 metres maybe? Then it stopped, silence once again filled the tunnel.
I started to walk on slowly, keeping my head turned to one side. It all happened at once. Several large pops, the high-pitched breaking of glass. The sound became aggravated, almost clumsy, coming towards me rapidly.
I started to run, rounding corners as fast as I could, I wanted to make sure not to see what was making the noise, who knows what might happen to me if I did.
My panting was gradually drowned out by growing noise of footsteps and talking. Slamming the steel gate shut.
After the first day, I was to say the least, confused, and perplexed. I just sat at home thinking about it, again and again. It terrified me. I wanted to quit then and there, save myself the trouble if I was right. But I had student loans to pay, and the sum was not getting any lower. So as the schedule demanded, the night after, I descended.
I still held on, that I might have imagined it, that maybe, it was all a bad dream. But I could see where the bulbs had popped, a thin stretch of mangled wires and sharp glass.
I stared into the hallway and an abyss stared back, only 5 lights had blown but that corner seemed to lead to nowhere.
As I pushed through the darkness, I noticed the walls, small, thin, slightly curved lines, like the leaves of a palm tree scratched into the concrete, they covered the following walls, like a malign infection growing in the concrete.
I opened the door to my workstation and started to work, I took no chances this time I watched the cameras more, switching between them and anything that I could use to pass the time, the slow blinking red light at the Y intersection. I thought I was going to go insane, as the hours dragged by. I was ripped from my work as a ghastly sound played over the cameras, all of them seemed to play it at once, a guttural scream, as though the last breath of an abandoned and dying child were being released. It howled, it whined on and on. I laid low in my chair, as though it could see me, but after 2 minutes the sound stopped, and it walked out of the tunnel.
My mind was a whirl of thought and maniacal screeching, should I leave the office? If so, where should I go? How fast is it? Do I have enough time to reach the surface?. I felt the seconds fly by. I caught it again, I nodded, so that’s what was making that sound last night, I almost marvelled at it, in the concrete tunnels, a vicious blaze curling through the passages.
I pulled the last remnants of my sanity together and started to run, I knew I would be at a disadvantage in the small tunnels, so I headed towards the tube tunnels close by. I stopped panting, grasping my chest and the air, I froze, not speaking, not panting. A pair of hands curled round the side of the corner behind me with palpable glee, as it took its first step around the corner, I could finally gaze upon the nightmare. It was tall, hunched to stop its head scraping against the roof, yet its long arms reached down and touched the floor, it covered its eyes looking downwards, the individual parts of its spine rose like a concave herald. That smile, thin yet taught. Plastered across a malshapen body and skull.
I dashed towards the nearby maintenance door, that sound following me, the sounds of marbles scattered on a hard floor, as that sound was etched into my brain, I could now pick out each individual nail scraping against the walls.
I do not remember much more after that, the smell of metal and brick dust, the blinking red light in the distance, illuminating the wide opening. I followed the tracks, running until I could not run anymore, I must have slammed it hard enough. A light in the distance, a station, I wretched away the last of my stamina.
I stood, scared, shivering holding my flashlight tight, the light reflecting the golden archway, bathing the platform, the crest, recognisable to all and below it, Per purum sanguinem, the large, bolted door, slightly adjar.

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Dear people,
I'm addressing this to people who feel like they're stuck mentally. Whether you started out with getting help or not, I hope this piece gives you insight in what to do, but especially.. in what order. Looking on the internet there are 1001 ways of therapy, but it can feel a mess. I've experienced that some things are better before other. Take this account from someone who has tried 101 things, picked the useful ones, who got stuck multiple times, but ultimately can tell you my best experiences. But who am I, except for just another random dude on the intenet?
I've been insecure, depressed and suffering from general anxiety disorder for most my life, at least until some time ago. After I tasted the first moments of happiness I made it my mission to keep moving forward, every day possibly better than yesterday. Nine years, a lot of therapy and many hours of psychology self-study later, I want to share with you what I've learned in a condenced form. I'll start off with a little background information. Then I'll follow up with a listed summary followed by why I think doing it in that order is important. Lastly, I'll list a bunch of my sources that helped tremendously. I don't want to make this a feel-sorry story about me so I'll keep it short just for context. If you believe me for my word you can skip one paragraph.
I come from a family with an ISTJ dad and ISFJ mom, both horribly emotionally immature, unavailable, unpredictable and very suspicious of other people. They love me and my brother but were the worst in showing it. My dad hardly talked and stopped playing with us after a motor cycle accident. My mom was burned out most of the time and ready to explode. Now, what kind of things would that teach your kids? They had their own terrible experiences and upbringing, into which I won't go. Not to mention I was born 10 weeks early, lay alone in a machine much time with cordasol basically already coursing through my veins. All in all, me (the quiet good boy) and my brother (the ADHD ESTJ rebel) had completely different lives. He went all out in the rebel behaviour with his gang, vandalism and drugs, whereas I found out about Maplestory and built up an alternate life there, eventually also with drugs. (Real) friends, what are those? Getting beat up twice as freshman, who cares. The Fight/Flight/Freeze response was strong and consistent already at 15 y/o. I didn't know it at the time but the result was a near-permanent pressure on the Solar Plexus, always being tired and having burst of sweat when I came in social situations. The sweat didn't particulatly make it better. You want to try that new thing? Ah better not, you hurt yourself once as a kid so now everything is too dangerous. The result is what you may expect. A very quiet, badly nail biting, skitterish mommy-child ' adult' who bursts into tears on random moments when alone, never knowing exactly what causes the pain.
But now? What good is my story without a testimony? Now I'm finally starting a career, regardless of some obstacles. I don't nail bite anymore and handle stress way more easily. I was the star waiter of our restaurant and I'm having my first stand up comedy gig next week as well as acting school. Right now I work as the "very likeable" office manager at a sustainability company. Not everything is perfect, e.g. attachment to a partner and my ability in decision making, but it's all a process. Step by step. Keep your target (happiness?!) in mind and keep going.
(Step one and two are not processes but rather state of mind from which to work on. Let it sink in but don't get stuck on it.)
Step one: Acceptance of your own imperfection. It's okay.
This step sounds obvious but I don't think it is in practice. Too many people I've talked to are ready to talk about the bad things that happen in their life but as soon as you start about their OWN role in the situation, they will get all defensive and maybe even antagonized. Everyone makes mistakes. Everyone has bad experiences that colour their judgement of things and the way they act. Only if you accept this and what you have done in the past as fact, only then you are open minded enough to change. Otherwise, whatever you'll learn what could've helped you, you'll dismiss from your mind as soon as you leave the therapist, either from stubbornness or as a unconscious selfdefence reflex because you don't accept that yes, also you have weaknesses. This counts especially for people whose insecurity is being percieved as weak, dumb or unlikable. You see, if your insecurity is that you're not good enough, then how painful is it to accept that yes, you have inherent flaws? LIKE EVERYBODY ELSE? That's what keeps people from learning. That's what's keeping people from changing. Accept that you're not perfect and have things to change. Why else are you looking for help? It's like an addiction where you don't like the addiction but the alternative seems worse.
Lastly, know that your perception of others is probably not true. Only you know you because you know your thoughts. You don't see the mind of other people. If only you knew. Other people may seem saint-like but they aren't. Even the nicest people have some dark(er) characteristics and their own insecurities. Once you recognize this you may not feel so crazy anymore. Guess what, the battle between your little devil and angel is a human thing. The difference, though, is that you're open to change. The difference is that you are not in denial or oblivious of your mistakes like your aunt Hilda.
Step two: Accept your own agency and so reject victimhood.
Let me introduce you to my ex-roommate Petrus (pseudonym), who always talked about his troubles in life and how life failed him. The thing is, he'd always go on and on about how it was the effing police who fired him, how it was the effing insurance company who effed him over, how it is the effing women who are all whores and bitches anyway so why bother. His near-exact words. Never him, though! Oh no, that would receive a "yea sure.... but..!" with a scowl. While deep down all this talk is fueled by deep rooted insecurities and pain. You think you're not like that, and you're probably right. At least not to the same degree as he. Be ready to take responsibility for your own (re)actions.
I understand that doing step one and two are actually quite hard. I just mean to point out that as long as you are aware of them, you can change. You'll find out along the way in what ways your own behaviour has shaped your life so far, and what you can do in turn to change it. Life is like a beach, it is up to you to make your sand castle with upcoming waves and running kids. Like everybody else. The roommate mentioned above never accepted his agency and so did NOT have any results from the same therapist that I had. And whom he quit after one session. Scary, I know.
I cannot stress enough that self-reflection is key for anyone who's willing to change !!!
Step three: What do I feel and why?
Or in other words: the popular phenomena called Mindfulness and Cognitive Behavioural Therapy. What it boils down to is the focus on self-awareness, to get a good insight into your own emotions and how it subconsciously affects your daily life. Before you quit reading: this is only the start. It is the difference between your mask and your underlying feeling. For instance, I would have the emotional 'mask' of being the joker and pleaser, only because WITHOUT doing that, I'd feel... well, uncomfortable. Now this uncomfortable feeling is important to figure out. For me I could summarize it with "I am not enough" and "I am not likeable". God it sounds so simple in a few sentences but this is a process of trying and trialing, where you'll think it was one thing, but it was something deeper, or they could all be summarized in one overarching insecurity. Finding out your mask personas is an important but scary step. Without your mask you'll feel remarkably vulnerable.
A good therapist will help you decipher your insecurities and underlying sadness. Understanding what you feel and why is step 3. You will NOT get here just through talking about your day unless the other specialist knows what they're doing, for the simple reason that many people are unaware of many of their reactions in daily life and what childhood trauma's they may have surpressed. Otherwise you'll just repeat the lines you tell yourself without going deeper. Such therapists should have their license revoked ffs.
Step three 'n half: grounding a.k.a. to get into contact with your feelings
There's much to be found online about grounding so by all means find other technique if mine doesn't work for you. I'd suggest you first try the most common way. Don't sweat it, the more you do it the faster you can do this. It takes me 20 seconds tops. Anyway: sit up on a chair without distractions nearby, eyes closed, hands on lap, feet on the ground. Take a couple of deep breaths. 4 seconds in, hold 4 seconds, 4 seconds out. Blow out like you blow out a candle. While you do this you repeat to yourself 'relax' or 'calm' or 'it's okay, you're safe' or whichever works for you. Then, take all your attention to your left foot. Feel the contact with the ground. Feel any (dis)comfort, any pain, itch, whether its cold, warm. Observe it, don't analyze it. It's not wrong, it's not good. It's just.. there. After you're ready you go to the left calf. Same thing. Feel the cold, warmth, the pressure, an itch, anything. It's just.. there. It's you. Hold your attention before going to your left thigh. Keep this process throghout your body. In the end, after your face is calm. Forehead is smooth. Eyes are relaxed. Jaw is loose. Deep breath and turn your attention to what you're feeling. Where is it? In your head? In your stomach? For me it's the solar plexus but it differs. Feel the emotion. It's not wrong, it's not good. It's just.. there. Accept it. Name it.
Side note: you may get distracted often. This is fine. Don't get mad at yourself as this only works negatively. Accept it, see it happen like a cloud drifting by and gently return your attention.
Side note 2: Accepting the emotion is very important. I had issues with that but getting mad at yourself for feeling something will only make things worse and is counter productive. Anyway why would you? Think of a friend. Can he feel lonely sometimes? Of course. So why not you?
Congratulations, now you are what we call in contact with your feeling. This is DIFFERENT than the self-pitying saddness that's more common. THIS is the emotion that you can process. THIS is the emotion you can write down, cry out, talk about, whatever works for you. Also at the therapist. Especially at the therapist. It may feel redundant to do it with the little steps but believe me, if you're not used to grounding yourself then this is how to start. Sometimes it's harder than other, depending on your state-of-mind at the moment. Later you'll be used to it and 'go to your feeling' faster and more naturally than doing a detailed body scan. You're right if you think it's akin to meditation. Trust me. It's a human thing. You can do it too. Some people have put away their emotions deep down in order to protect themselves and for them it may be harder.
IMPORTANT: learning to ground may also mean you're nearer to your emotions. This is a good thing, as long as your work with them! Depending on the severity of your repressed traumas, it is highly advised to involve a therapist. You don't want to open up a well of misery only to do nothing with it. More on that in the next paragraph.
Step four: Accept your past hurtful experiences. Process the associated emotions
It is not to be underestimated how much internal conflicts will colour your perspective on yourself and the outside world. When you're so convinced of your own insecurities, working on them felt like mopping the floor with the faucet opened. For this reason this step is really important. It caused by far the most change in me. It would have saved me maybe three years.
Okay so see it like this. Two things to remember. First: emotions that you experience but were unable to express will STAY in your body. Your body is like an emotional hard drive and somewhere there's tension building up. Second: this system you can compare to a hydrolic dam. Imagine: when there's a bit of water in the reservoir, there's no problem. When there's more water in the reservoir it's also okay, but the force on the dam builds up. Still more water all kind of okay, except that the dam is under a lot of pressure. A relatively small damage has to happen for cracks to appear and water to escape. This is exactly how it works with emotions. This is how people have sudden burts of rage, sudden burst of sadness, over relatively small incidents. They just... burst. This tension in addition with perfectionism are root causes for burn out as well. Just how much energy must it take? Anyway, as for the actual processing, I have a few tips.
The major one is a therapy called Somatic Experiencing. This is specialized in bringing up past emotions, even from when you were just a baby (I can tell..). I can't much talk about how a therapist helps you because it will work ruin the effect when you can mentally prepare for them. Don't worry, it's not something crazy I promise. It's just very simple things that sound out of place here. All the stored up emotions will affect your daily life, likely without you noticing. It literally changes the way you react to things. E.g. how you react to some kinds of jokes, to how you may be very sensitive to situations, may feel angry or sad all the time, but also your attachment style in relationships. For me, processing all my fears and feelings of loneliness and betrayal on my innocense has given room for love, compassion, joy/playfulness and a general peace of body.
Another thing is the fact that our bodies can go into survival mode. Imagine you're 50.000 years in the past in the wild. You had dangerous encounters, nearly costing your life. You'll subconsciously be more alert than usual. The same happens with us still, even when you're in fact safe. It's the flight/fight/freeze response that's meant to protect you, that has lost control. This causes racing thoughts, this causes distractions (hey you, are you sure you have ADHD?), this causes you to feel like you can never relax. Why many of us turn to weed. Because you're like a whipped dog. That's not an insult. In fact I mean to say there's nothing is wrong with you. I mean yes there is, but you're not crazy! It's 'basically', complex psychology and survival instinct! This means one thing! It can change! First through somatic experiencing for the related emotions and later through step five for training your subconscious.
All in all, therapists are highly recommended for this. If you bring something up and don't know how to handle it it will work against you
I'd suggest journaling too. Or rather, emotion analyzing and bring them up while writing. Especially when you had a busy day and feel like your insides are all jumbled. Ground yourself first. The goal is to FEEL the emotion and so process it without storing it up again. Cry about it if you need to. You know when children are sad, then cry a lot, then are running around happily again? Same with us adults. INFP or no. Except that we, with a little training, can actually name what we're feeling. Warning: this should only be really possible after some mindfulness. Firstly, because how else are you going to identify your own emotions? And secondly, you need to learn to 'ground' yourself, go into 'feeling mode'. Without it, it'll just be feeling sad because you feel sorry for yourself, instead of addressing the emotion itself. Wallowing in your sadness (this case: own victimhood) will only make things WORSE in an vicious cycle of negative affirmation. This happened to me. It's not pretty.
Another tip: Ground yourself and write a letter to someone who hurt you. Pour in all the hurt, the anger, betrayal in all the words. No need to actually send it, just ritually burn the letter. Let the dam break, accept tears if you have to cry. It's all okay.
Step Five: self improvement. Learn by doing. Train your subconsciousness by experience.
It may feel like this step is late in the cycle, however it is not for nothing. To use the metaphor, Would it be easier to upgrade your dam into a hydraulic energy generating dam while the reservoir is still full, or while the water level is low? When all the body could think about was how to keep the dam in tact?
Self-Improvement really means to use your self reflection to not just see what you do, but mainly what do you want to do with it? Let's say hypothetically you feel like you don't speak up enough. You've found out this is because of an underlying insecurity, in this case maybe that you feel unimportant because your parents never acknowledged any idea that you put forward.
Look at yourself and the traits you want different. Maybe you want to be more orderly? Show love to people? Give a presentation without feeling like you're fainting? Write them down and what you would like instead. Don't push yourself by commiting to do everything. Just as much as you're comfortable with. Think of a dog for example. When a dog gets hit by a human he may just become aggressive or wimpering with his tail between his legs the next time he sees a human. Dogs are not aggressive or flightful from the start, but they learned that certain things are dangerous or scary. You teach an animal that something is not scary by slowly making it get used to the target. The same with humans, except that we're such complex creatures that sometimes it's hard to say exactly what makes you uncomfortable. This is literally what people mean with 'stepping outside your comfort zone'. It's not for nothing. It's not only for 'those bloody daredevils'. It's for a person to get used to situations. I had a fear in front of the class but I forced myself, after some proper therapy, to stand in front of a class to teach exams. Yes I was nervous. I had to calm myself several times, and I reflected on in afterwards. Well now, that actually went better than all the imaginative situations I had before! And even if it doesn't go well you can still write down WHAT you fked up and try to do better next time. Be mindful. Take steps.
Check out my sources for more useful tips on actual behavioural change.
Conclusion
It's a lot and I think I can add more but then it would be a book. I hope from this piece will bring structure to the whirlpool of information that's available. I'm not even sure 'regular' psychologists know this, as I've tried a bunch and they all start with something else. Every step is necessary, but some will work best only after the previous steps have been taken.
Now I'm tired. I'll write a proper summary after I see how this is recieved in the comments. Would love to hear feedback, questions, maybe even critique. Take care, you crazy diamond you.
Helpful sources:
Mindfulness training, meditation guides, Chakra healing (yes really)
Fysiotherapist on youtube to work on posture (you'll be surprised). I recommend Body Fix Exercises channel, to the point and effective.
Therapies: EMDR, Cognitive behavioural therapy, Somatic Experiencing
INFP guides on Personality Hacker
Books / audiobooks
J. Peterson's 12 rules for life + many lectures on having a meaningful life. (whatever your stance or opinion on politics, his psychological knowledge is undeniable)
Lindsay C Gibson's Adult Children of Emotionally Immature Parents
M. Gladwell's Talking to Strangers
Mark Manson's The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck
Eckhart Tolle's The Power of Now

Hey lego --
After rediscovering my love for LEGO last year (after a ~15+ year 'Dark Age'), I've been mulling around the idea of opening my own brick & mortar store for 'brick enthusiasts' here in the greater Washington, D.C. area. One that focuses almost exclusively on LEGO and LEGO-related / -compatible products, vs. a more general 'toy store'.
I was recently let go from my job in enterprise software (sales / account management), which is the only career I've known since graduating college, and, while the idea of doing something entirely different is a little scary, I believe this was the 'push out of the nest' I needed to finally pursue this dream. I've always done my best work -- and had the easiest time fully committing myself to my work -- when I've had the opportunity to build something "new", whether that was designing and selling t-shirts in college, helping launch a new team or product line in my professional career, or, of course, creating with LEGO!
My wife and I have been brainstorming ideas for every little facet of this business for months now, but, if there's one thing I've learned in the tech industry, it's the importance of leveraging your customers' input and feedback to help inform the direction of the product / business. I can't tell you how many times I've seen a development team invest months into building a product / feature / update only for it to land with a thud -- or, for bonus points, drive clients to cancel their contract / demand refunds -- because it was designed in a silo.
With that long-winded intro wrapped-up, that brings me to my question for all of you: What would you most like to see in a LEGO-centric store if one opened-up in your area? What would be most important to you?
With the vast number of options for purchasing LEGO today (and with many online retailers offering free shipping), I doubt our store will ever be the lowest-cost option -- and it will obviously never have an inventory that matches what's available online via Bricklink, eBay, etc. So what brings people through the door then? Outside of price, what would motivate you to drive to your local store vs. buying online?
Any input is much appreciated! I'll hold off on sharing our own ideas for now (to avoid 'leading the witness') but I'll try to respond to everyone in the comments section below and am happy to go into more detail there. Thank you!

Hello everyone. Been a while since an update so here I am delivering one.
First off, I wanna talk about the API changes coming to Reddit. A lot of subreddits plan on going dark June 12 - 14 in response to the horrendous API changes Reddit plans to have. You can find out more info on Save3rdPartyApps. My question is, should this subreddit go dark?
Another thing is updating the look of the subreddit. We've had a relatively bland look (on the new Reddit design) for a while now. u/ScreenNo5979 has made an amazing new banner for the subreddit. This would be a good start to a redesign, so should we apply this new banner?
If you would like, you can participate in the pool to decide what we do. For any major updates make sure to check the subreddits Discord server.
Cya guys later!
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