What is cash nasty's real name

What the hell are you doing? That's a real question Nvidia, what are you doing?
To me, it looks like you just don't give a f anymore, you don't care about AI, don't care about gamers, and you are just having a good laugh as you don't have any competition at the market right now.
but you know what happens when you just don't care anymore? an underdog will come and bite you in the ass, it happened to Tesla with the electric cars, Intel with little to no progress for more then 5 years on the CPU market, and it happened to apple with their trash Intel laptops.
You are the biggest GPU company in the world, we get it, we really do, but we are still expecting you to innovate with every gen of AI GPU's and Gaming GPU's. This gen? well this gen is just a freaking joke, and your CES presentation on AI was even a bigger joke.
AMD, Intel, you have another shot, Kick their ass, please, we need someone to shake the marketplace.

Hi all,
I come to deliver some unfortunate and unsettling - if not un-particularly-surprising - news: founder of this sub, letsgocrazy, has been banned from Reddit. Here is what he has told me:
"Hey dude, I'm contacting you because you're the only person who knows my real identity.
I just wanted to let you know what happened and ask that you post an update on confrontingchaos for me. You can paraphrase my email if you'd like.
Basically, I was permanently banned from Reddit for "promoting hate" .They were very vague and gave no specifics - they pointed me to what they considered to be the offending post, but it was removed so I have no idea what they are talking about.
I am not sure what the topic was, but I suspect it was talking about the trans movement.
It feels like the Kafka novel "The Trial".
You have been accused of something, but we will not tell you what.
It's ludicrous - and I have no doubt that the people who have done this take extra special pleasure in exercising power in this way.
I am now unable to log into any other of my Reddit accounts.
I clicked on the button to appeal - where you are given something like 250 characters to write your appeal. Including the link to the offending post.
I cannot reach the other Mod (Mr Munch).
I also note that there was a disgruntled conmfrontingchaos poster who has been harassing me and going through old posts.
I suspect he may have been the one who reported me, but I cannot say for certain.
So, I don't really know what you can do with this information.
The subreddit will now simply lie fallow.
If you can get hold of Mr Munch I am happy for you to be made a moderator if you so wish - even if only for admin purposes. It would be helpful, but I can understand if you don't want to get involved.
One thing I would like to express though - is this: this may be the best thing to have happened to me in a while.
Reddit is an incredibly toxic place.
Reddit is toxic in terms of the constant exposure to political and corporate manipulation, and in the way it hijacks your dopamine system.
I was planning to do a project to ask the users to invent some more "Rules for Life", because I had one special rule and goal in mind that I wanted for all the users of Confronting Chaos:
Rule 0: Get off Social Media.
So maybe God, or my Jungian sub-concious has done me a favour.
Times are crazy my dude.
The strange this is that this process makes me actually more sympathetic to Dr Peterson and his pushing-back against this bizarre thought control / culture war.
Anyway, I just wanted to give you an update.
How are things with you?
best regards - letsgocrazy"

CABIN ROAD is the gateway to paradise. But why does this feel like a path to hell? I smash into a tall pine tree that stands in the middle of the otherwise straight gravel road. I've gone around it hundreds of times before. But now, my fingers are firmly gripped on the steering wheel, disregarding all my commands. Have I become paralyzed? A potato is wobbling on the dashboard, having obviously leaped out of the potato crates in the back seat. Jack gets out and strides to the front bumper. His lips press into a thin line as he appraises the destruction and cost of fixing it. Nothing should hold him back from swearing. But he maintains his composure, anger simmering just beneath the surface. The memory of thirty years of marriage fills my mind. I question whether this man has drugged me. A fleeting thought that he might have crashed the car surfaces, but it seems too much of a stretch. I take a deep breath and try to clear my head. In the rear-view mirror, Jack gets an axe from the trunk. He comes and gazes at me from my window, his eyes looking heavy and weary—like two precious pearls inside their oyster-like shells. I straighten and open the window: “Thank goodness it wasn't worse.” “I'll chop it down.” “That’s a pretty big tree, Jack.” Jack blinks several times. “I do have a chainsaw...” “Yes.” I wonder what stories this tree has witnessed during its lifetime. Will we see the marks of our journey on its rings? There’s always something that gets squeezed in tighter, begging to be unraveled. “I'll drive you to the cabin and grab the chainsaw,” Jack says. “Prepare some coffee while I'm gone.” Our short passage to the cabin around the bend is like shifting through the fog of memory. I'm in the kitchen. My fingers clench around the coffee tin can and spoon. Bewilderment engulfs my brain. I spot Jack with his saw. He slips around the corner, the curve of his bottom visible through his tight work trousers. I feel anxious about the crash. Did I deliberately hit the tree? The measuring spoon slips from my hand. It drops onto the floor along with the tin can. I clean up the mess. Could someone drive into a tree on purpose? Accidents do happen after all. It's fascinating to see him take on this role of being so chivalrous. Far away from his academic duties. As the chainsaw outside whines, I scroll through social media on my phone. People arguing about something or other makes me tired. I pick up a copy of Science magazine from the coffee table and scan through an article titled “Quantum Communication Across Interstellar Space,” authored by Jack. As usual, the details go right over my head. I like to amuse myself with the idea that it speaks about communicating with individuals who have passed away. Billy's message pops up. He asks for money for a fishing trip with his buddies somewhere in Lapland. I am more than happy to support him since he’s enlisting in the army soon in July. My big boy. I tell him about the car crash, and he gives me advice about a car repair store. Jack comes back earlier than expected. He plops into his seat, sweat beading on his forehead and the smell of resin emanating from him. He seems disappointed. I pour coffee to the brim. “Did the saw get stuck?” Jack shakes his head and adds sugar to his mug. “It got shattered under the tree. I stumbled...” Silence descends slowly, like dust. “My helmet cracked.” “Do you want me to buy new parts when I go to the store?” “No need.” “But there's pruning and cutting to do first.” Jack takes a bite out of a cinnamon bun. “I can sharpen the axe.” “Ask the neighbors for help, that's what they're for. You can also mow the lawn while I'm away.” “The grass is already short— it'll die off.” “You don't want ticks taking over! Think about your mother's joint pain. She would roll in her grave if—” “Cremated?’ “Yes!” My answer is like a flyswatter, leaving no room for further discussion or quantum physics. Jack is busy chewing on the bun. His regular coffee breaks, which have become part of his daily routine in his sixties, have honed impressive jowls. We enjoy our coffee and stare at the lake. Calm as a mirror. I have a feeling Jack will soon suggest fishing. As I gather my things to leave, I call to him: “Don't hurt yourself. Should I bring more buns?” “I was thinking of skipping the sugar and wheat...” I simply smile in reply. “Can you refuel the car?” Jack asks. I'm already off. The door slams shut in the middle of his sentence, but Jack knows better than to expect a response. I jump into the driver's seat and immediately notice forgotten potato baskets in the back seat, but my mind drifts away before I can do anything about it. As I pass by our old well, I remember that we need to discuss connecting the cabin to a new water source. No matter what it costs, it needs to be done. Why should I agree to be responsible for our running water anymore? I collide with something hard. Airbags abruptly inflate around me, disorienting me as my vision blurs. Struggling to escape from the tangled mess of seatbelts and inflatable bags, it feels like I'm an old person trying to climb out of a bouncy castle. My gaze rests on the scene before me, but my thoughts can't understand it. I have plowed into a tree stump. The tree stretches over the ditch. Nearby the chainsaw lies crushed. The cutting chain is nowhere to be found. I get back in the car. Should I phone Jack for an urgent call? Inhaling slowly helps me stay calm. Why didn’t he mention the tree stump? Someone taps on my window I jump and my neck stiffens up. I reach for the window switch. “I should have told you about...” Jack says. “The stump?” “Didn't you see the tree on the ground?” “I'm sorry. I was daydreaming.” “Great galaxy, Hazel! You're burning through our last savings as if money grew on trees!” Jack is being truly authentic with me. I stare back at him like some big-eyed exotic species from Madagascar that I can't identify in all this chaos. Jack opens the door and starts to put the cushion back in its place. We turn on the engine, giving the accelerator a test ride. “Let's go to a repair shop. I'm sure our insurance will cover this,” Jack suggests. “We can say that we had an accident with a reindeer.” “You're supposed to report it to the police or game warden if you hit an animal,” I reply. Jack pauses for a moment. He then reverses and drives forward again, but when he looks into the rear-view mirror, he slams on the brakes. “I have a better plan.” He retrieves an orange towing strap from the trunk, a burst of determination on his face. He connects the stump and the tow hook. “Get ready. We’re going to take a quantum leap here.” We buckle our seat belts with a single click as we prepare for the inevitable disaster. We had already made so many mistakes together, starting with raising our children—though sometimes failing was just part of parenting. Jack revs up the engine. A sudden lurch forward, then Jack howls in pain as the stump smashes through the rear window, clambering through the seats and lodging itself onto the gearbox, trapping Jack's hand. He veers off toward the ditch. The Milky Way spins around us, potatoes fly in the air and suddenly, all is quiet. We find ourselves upside down—surrounded by earthy potatoes and broken glass. I try to break the silence: “I just remembered: Billy's friend can repair cars at the vocational school much cheaper.” Jack looks so pale, his face almost white. I guess he’s contemplating the next step. Through the cracked windshield, I see the chainsaw chain lying in the ditch. How did it come to be rusting away? Maybe everything will go back to normal if we sit here and wait. It feels almost as if we are flying in outer space, my nerves slowly calming down. But then a sudden stillness strikes that is anything but soothing. “Jack, I’m feeling a bit dizzy…” No answer. “Jack...” I snap open my eyes and the scene in front of me has changed drastically. It’s like I’ve been sucked into some kind of surreal void. I hear a tapping noise on the window. An apology and then a loud thud; a huge rock has been hurled through the glass. A stench of strong aftershave ferments around me. A burly arm reaches across to release the seatbelt. An elderly man growls something crude, nothing like Jack's usual scout-like words. My eyes close as I'm being cradled away, and visions of Jack's mathematics and symbols flicker around in my mind. Is the soul truly free when there is no force of gravity to pull us down? I don't know who my savior is, but I can sense his worry as his face reddens. He is in military garb. I come to as I feel my head thudding against the rubble. Instantly, I yearn to run away, contemplating that perhaps this experience is only a dream, and I'm back in the cabin chamber, tucked securely underneath a cosy blanket. A blanket that grants me the power to perform heroic acts like disappearing in a puff of smoke. “Are you okay?” he speaks in a familiar voice. Fingers brush over my clothes, picking out pieces of glass. My pocket contains an odd bulge—a potato? Suddenly, everything clicks: an aged Billy, wearing a major's rank insignia. How could he have achieved that rank so fast? “Son, what are you doing on this tree ring?” Billy peers at me from across the way, accompanied by a mysterious female figure. “We came to check on how you're doing,” Billy says. “Do you remember what happened?” I raise my head and look around. There's nobody in the driver's seat of the car. “Where is Jack?” I manage. Billy furrows his brows like a detective would when weighing evidence. An image of the classic TV show Columbo flashes through my mind—he could lull suspects into a false sense of security before dropping the hammer of his sharp intellect on their inconsistencies. But I'm not hiding anything here. Though why are modern shows so bad? That's another mystery entirely. “Mom, what were you doing out here? The road is an absolute disaster zone, with the car smashed up in the ditch.” My thoughts swim haphazardly as Billy reads something from my expression, then casts his eyes towards his new girlfriend for assistance. I try to get up but it hurts too much. Instead, I reach into my pocket and feel a sandy-sharp potato there. Maybe I can still wash it off. “I’m fine,” I reply. “I need to get back to plowing the field... baking buns for Jack... buying a chainsaw...” The darkness returns and I feel my body shiver. I'm in the car, traveling down bumps I've known for quite some time. Soon, I’m settled inside the cabin's living room on the couch. The coffee maker is gurgling in the corner of the room. Billy is on a call with a doctor about how to deal with grief and coping alone; it seems someone had died while cutting down a tree last year. He gets furious and threatens to take away the keys from the person he's talking to. It might be a good idea; many people have too many keys that they don't use anyway. My head is spinning with thoughts about Jack's absence. Where did he go? Someone runs water over potatoes while a pot clatters on the stovetop. My temper rises as I wait for Jack's return. I won't stay here by myself without an explanation from him. I call out for Jack until there's no sound left but my coughing voice. I crave sausage soup, and I know I must go to the store. As I try to move forward, I am wading through tar. They guide me to the coffee table. According to Jack, time runs faster the more hunched your back becomes. Let it be and let us sit here, motionless, gazing at the tips of our shoes. Surely, time has slowed down in this moment. Billy reaches out and takes my hand. A handsome, greying gentleman. His girlfriend also places her hand on top of the pile. Her name is Ewa. A beautiful name, something familiar about her. But did I hear her calling me mother? In the yard, a squirrel hops with a cone in its mouth. It freezes and stares at me. I avert my gaze. My hands suddenly look wrinkled. I summon the inner strength that I've been striving to find for an eternity: “Do we have to leave now?” Billy exchanges glances with Ewa and then looks outside. “You don't have to walk this path alone, Mother.” We finish our coffee without saying another word. The wind sweeps across the lake. A pair of swans take flight, and a duet of gentle honks echo across the water. A shivering cold envelops me. Billy and Ewa take me to the car. The potatoes can wait. The sun blazes brightly above us as we travel the cabin road; shapeless clouds dot the horizon and suddenly I sense a presence—as if someone is waving to me. I surrender. I believe I will be warmly welcomed.

I'm so confused. I just completed the ID card verification for Google ads. I was a bit sceptical but since I was told I had to do it in x days to keep showing ads, I felt like I didn't have a choice. Shortly after completing the verification I received an email saying something like this (translated from my language):
"We have verified your Google adds account. From now and on, your ads will contain information with your verified name and location. The information looks like this: ("About this advertiser", "name", "location").
This made me very uncomfortable and I've paused all my ads. I do not feel okay with showing my personal full name for anyone that sees me ad. What the hell is this?? Does someone know what is going on and if there's any way to disable this?

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My (26F) fiancé (45m) has a child (11m) from a previous marriage that lives with us full time including summers and holidays even though the custody agreement states that the mom should have him every other weekend, summers, and every other holiday. The bio mom has not seen or talked to her child in years. I have been involved since 2019. Sometime within the past 2 years SS has started calling me mom. I've tried to encourage another name like "miss insert_first_name" but we always end back up at mom. I used to want kids but after seeing my partner be a parent I don't think it's wise that we have kids together. Yall, there is no discipline or structure in my home. The father "just wants the child to be happy". The kid is "homeschooled" and is not learning anything at all. He cannot read, write, tie his shoes or do basic math aside from adding one digit numbers. He sometimes writes backwards (right to left) as well as writing individual letters backwards. On a typical school day his father will have him do a random worksheet from a 1st or second grade workbook and then he goes outside or spends the rest of the day on the game or tablet. Everyday I mass clean our apartment and by the end of the day it's filthy and looks untouched. There will be food, plates, cups, toys and random things everywhere. I've tried to direct him to play in his room but his father says it's his house too and always let's him take over shared areas. He goes into the kitchen fridge and freezer with filthy hands making inedible "projects" and "snacks". He also makes noise ALL DAY sun up to sun down. Constantly talking to himself and making random sound effects.
I cannot even enjoy my own home and space.
This entire living arrangement is quite literally driving me insane. At this point I have no idea what to do but remove myself from the situation. It's like over time the problems just pile up, nothing is being resolved.

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Memory transcript subject: Vila, Venlil student Date: [standardized human time] October 25th 2136
I opened the door and entered in my home. “HEY MOM IM HOME” I put my bag on the rack and walked towards the living room. “ hey sweetie I put something out for you on the table to eat” I walked over and grabbed some starfruit and took a bite, it was so sweet and juicy. I walked back to the living room and jumped onto the comfy couch. “So mom is the human here yet?” I turned to my mom who was watching the tv. “Oh yeah he came after you left he’s in his room right now you can go say hi to him”. I got up after finishing the starfruit and walked towards the humans door and knocked, I at least wanted to make good impressions for the first time.
“Come in” I opened the door and saw the human laying down on his bed staring at his tv, he was watching some kind of animated show that looked like paper. “So you must be Vila then” the human got off and stood up walked towards me. I could feel some of my wool starting to puff up. “ my name is Chris Evans I’m the human that will be staying with you gals” when I looked at him he did a slight smile but didn’t bear his teeth, I usually heard that humans when happy bear their teeth in what they call a smile but Chris didn’t do that.
“Nice to meet you Chris anyway what are you watching?” I turned towards the tv at the strange cartoon. “Oh I’m just watching this old show I like called South Park” Chris looked towards the tv and then back at me. “Hey what’s that in your hand?” Chris pointed at one of the starfruit I was holding. “Oh this is just a starfruit, want to have one?” I held out a starfruit towards Chris and he grabbed it and bit a chunk of it off.
“Om my gawd this is so gwood” Chris was living the starfruit I could see some of the juice going from his mouth. “Oh shit Umm do you have any like paper towels I could use?” Chris turned to me. “Oh yeah let me go grab one for you” I walked out of his room and towards the kitchen and grabbed some paper towels. I then walked back into his room and handed him the paper towels which Chris than wiped off the juice. “Thank you Vila” Chris looked at me. “Your welcome Chris” I was heading out the door when I noticed this glass box on a table.
“Hey Chris what’s this?” I turned towards Chris while pointing at the box. “Oh that’s just where I keep my blue beetles, do you want to see them?” Chris walked towards the glass box and knelt down to look at the beetles. “Sure Chris I would be delighted too” Chris then reached into the box and grabbed this blue insect and then it just died. “WHAT THE SPEH HAPPENED!?” I looked surprised at Chris. “Oh they just do that, it’s not actually dead it’s only playing” I stared at Chris, what do you mean playing dead what kind of place would you live where that would be needed? My mind was racing when I noticed the beetle then got up and started walking on Chris’s hand. “Do you want to try holding him?” Chris looked over to me holding the beetle out. I gently picked it up, I could feel it crawling in my wool and it actually tickled a bit.
“You know I should probably put it back in, I don’t want it’s protective layer to be completely gone” Chris then picked up the beetle and put it back into the box on a twig.
“What kind of protective layer?” I watch as he pulled his hand out of the box. “These beetles have a protective layer the helps against the sun so they don’t get scorched” I turned towards the door and started to walk out. “Oh hey Chris I’ll tell you when a meals ready okay?” I looked at Chris and he gave me a thumbs up and then I closed the door.

4/4/23-5/29/23
Watched on: Tubi
Tubi synopsis: "The infamous couple has become glamorized for their criminal acts, but this documentary examines the reality of the cold-blooded killers."
I could tell within five minutes of watching this doc that it was very low-budget and indeed it was probably the most low-budget documentary I've ever watched (it was almost like a YouTuber made it in his spare time - although that's probably a bit unfair). The doc isn't helped by repetitive elevator music that went the whole 90 minutes and was putting me to sleep. The only positive thing is the subject itself - the killer couple of Bonnie and Clyde. It's been almost a century since their crime spree, but if you say the names "Bonnie and Clyde," people have a general sense of what you're talking about - not to mention the whole "killer couple on the lam" artistic genre that's inspired generations of filmmakers. In that sense, "Bonnie and Clyde" have real historical weight, and this was the first doc I've watched dedicated to their story. In retrospect, that was probably a mistake, I probably should have watched one of the fictional accounts, because - like I said - this doc was pretty tough to slog through. Still, it's thorough and the pacing is acceptable so I can't trash it too much. Not recommended, but it's fine I suppose.
Rating: 5.7 / 10

I've seen a lot of people say he would look dark skinned but yet his family came from the Exiles in Babylon and Persia. Many of those Jews still live there today who look like this though I have heard some cite verses like these as counterpoints against that belief arguing she is speaking of herself not of Solomon. And the blackness there is because of the sun. ''I am black, because the sun hath looked upon me''.
I will say, most classical people thought the sun is why people were black when it's not a tan. She's black. She's probably one of his foreign brides.
Son 5:14 His hands are as gold rings set with the beryl: his belly is as bright ivory overlaid with sapphires.
Son 5:15 His legs are as pillars of marble, set upon sockets of fine gold: his countenance is as Lebanon, excellent as the cedars.
Son 6:13 Return, return, O Shulamite; return, return, that we may look upon thee. What will ye see in the Shulamite? As it were the company of two armies. https://pbs.twimg.com/media/FxSpBQFWIAAALVr?format=jpg&name=small

Just got back from a wedding, where the groom personally asked me what I wanted to have as a non-drinker. I told him about my favorite CBD seltzer drink. I was actually excited to have it. But when I arrived, the choice was limited to water, coke zero, and Athletic Brew IPA.
I always abstained from "pretend" drinks, and hate the IPA flavor, but since I was just standing around with hands in my pockets. I decided to give AB a go. And it tasted just like a light beer. Almost too close to the real thing. And as much as I enjoyed first couple of sips, I just kept thinking how this is just like drinking a regular beer minus the alcohol. But then I looked at the can and it said "non-alcoholic" but then said it still contained 0.5% alcohol. I kind of got annoyed. Because even though it's such a small amount, if I were to start chugging them, at 10 cans, I'd be 1 can of actual 5% beer deep. So I sat the can down, put my hands back into my pockets and tried to enjoy the night to my best ability.
The wedding was great. Seeing parents of two of my best friends was lovely. Beautiful speeches. Tons of food. I had so much prime rib and shrimp that I couldn't even finish my plate. Then the first dance came around. It was amazing. The newlyweds actually practiced. And then the DJ put on the most generic playlist I've heard at every company party, every public event, every social gathering. But I've promised myself that I would dance. A 6'6" sober gorilla...will dance. So I did. And actually enjoyed feeling so damn awkward. Of course some drama unfolded, someone was too drunk and said or did a thing that annoyed another drunk. I loved that I didn't have to deal with any of it, nor be a part of it.
Eventually the party ended, people got loaded up on party busses, and my wife and I got a ride back to our hotel. We were in bed by 11 PM, tired, happy. In the morning we packed the car and drove back to LA. Next morning I trail ran for 17 miles and got to see some amazing waterfalls and a dam. On the way home I stopped at the store and got my CBD Seltzer.
Edit: Groom's brother pulled me aside and asked me to hang out, because his brother is now married and I was known to be a little wild. When I told him that I no longer party, drink, but I do a lot of running. It was like watching a small child being told that their favorite toy got thrown away. I felt so good not having to live up to that dump expectation. I tried to explain that my old days were nothing but drinking and cocaine. But that's exactly what the brother was hoping to get. I couldn't convey the idea that we didn't do anything interesting, we just got high and drunk thinking we're doing interesting things.
IWNDWYT

Just a PSA that single pocket bags are (inconsistently) being enforced. There are conflicting accounts as what constitutes a single pocket bag. The nature of the show and crowd probably dictates this. The website shows a picture of what's allowed:
https://www.redrocksonline.com/plan-your-visit/permitted-prohibited-items/
However a conflicting image is displayed here:
https://www.reddit.com/RedRocks/comments/127bq8z/psa_new_bag_policy/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=ioscss&utm_content=2&utm_term=1
There are reports are people having to abandon their bag while other people are being let it with the same bag. Stick to the tote style bag if you want to play it safe. Have had friends on both sides that this has happened to.

The Meeting With the Contact
In one of Unity’s darker and less maintained districts, several miles down an unassuming maintenance tunnel, Aster knocked on a rusty steel hatch. The moment her knuckles finished rapping on the metal door hidden mechanisms squeaked as an internal bolt was undone and the door swung open. She heard the soft ween of servos as they struggled against the bulk of the door.
Without a moment of hesitation Astarte strode through the door knowing full well that the dark corners of the room could have held a waiting ambush. It did not do to show any fear when dealing with the mysterious shadow league. She had heard from Greyson how the contacts valued confidence above everything else. She wasn’t sure why, but had followed the advice anyway.
The contacts never worked through proxies. They had no known dead drops. And were notorious for handling everything in person.
It was a strange practice since logic dictated that information brokers as influential as the Shadow league should act with much more caution. But that same flaunting disregard for common convention was the trait that unnerved Astarte the most.
It unnerved her because it proved that the powerful brokers had nothing to fear.
Maybe it was arrogance, but her instincts said otherwise.
The door closed behind her, the harsh clunk telling her that she was now locked in. Soft lights in the room flicked of a slowly grew brighter to a level comfortable to human eyes. Aster’s cybernetic eye went red and flickered through several different spectrums of light as it scanned the room.
“An interesting piece of hardware.” A soft murmuring voice said from behind the desk in the center.
Astarte momentarily ignored the voice as she finished her scan. Her eye picked out only a single camera behind a fake patch of wall that looked completely normal from the outside. She focused on the camera, telling the rooms only other occupant that she was fully aware of the device.
Her scan complete she turned her head to focus of the short fuchsia froglike person within a bubble-like excursion suit. No word in the Union’s common tongue, or her own could pronounce the name of the person before her. Instead the Union had simply labeled them as Toxoid amphibians. A rather cold, but concise name.
There were many defense mechanisms used by prey species to ward off predators. Some opted to be big, strong, and move in large herds like the Trikes. Some just flew away. Others hid. But very few instead went for the survival strategy of being very visible and toxic as hell.
The creature before Astarte was one of only three Toxoid species in the Union. While safe to members of their own species, their skin could instantly paralyzed and kill any non-deathworld species on Femeri. And if Astarte had touched that bright purple skin she would be instantly floored with the worst pain imaginable. Not dead, but really wishing she was.
The Union definition of Toxoid was any highly toxic species, regardless of the atmospheric conditions. Though this particular species did in fact come from a world with high methane and ammonia content, less then Venus, but still deadly to Terrans. The only reason they weren’t classified as deathworlders was because the low gravity and gentle nature of their star made the claim seem a little absurd compared to your average Deathworlder.
The Toxoid met her gaze and held it without fear. Knowing that Astarte wouldn’t/couldn’t do anything to harm them. There face was pulled into a constant smile. Though this was a factor of their facial structure and not any sort of actual pleasure. This, matched with their small colorful appearance gave off the vibes of something small and harmless. An instinct she would have to actively suppress.
“Surprising, most of your kind are overwhelmed with nurturing instincts upon first seeing me. Especially females of your age.” The creature commented. The internal translator of her suit taking the creature’s hypersonic humming and giving it a squeaky, almost cartoonish, tone in galactic common.
“I’ve encountered your kind before, and the pain I felt that day from just one touch is enough to wipe away any cute impressions.”
The creature made a sounding like birds chirping “So its true, humans really can touch us without dying?”
Astarte grimaced at the memory “Yeah, but I sure wished I was dead. Only touched them with my hand, but in seconds my whole body was wracked with the worst pain my nerves could conjure. Couldn’t black out either.”
The Contact looked amused “And yet you survived.” They said pointedly. “We are in our own ways more dangerous than deathworlders. Even the Kruhur leave our few ships alone. As do most pirates. So why would you attack that particular merchant ship six of your Terran years ago?”
Aster wasn’t surprised by their knowledge, the sources of the shadow league stretched far and wide. “They had something I wanted, so I took it.”
The big eyelids of the Toxoid closed slowly. “Yes, weapons grade plutonium. I heard you made good use of it. Such inventive weapons too. Most think fusion weapons are pointless in space compared to pulse cannons and conventional missiles. Leave it to a human to find a way to make good use of an underutilized weapon.”
Astarte kept her face placid, but on the inside she was roiling at the knowledge that the Shadow League knew about the shield breaker cannon.
“You needn’t worry” the Contact continued “the Union doesn’t know, and even if we stole the plans we would be troubled to find crews with the nerve to detonate a super critical mass of plutonium within their own ship. My kind are quite cowardly compared to your people.”
“Fools rush in where angles fear to tread.” Astarte remarked absently. Downplaying their achievements.
The Toxoid leaned forward “and yet those who dare to fail miserably can achieve greatly.”
This time Astarte couldn’t hide her surprise. “Kennedy? Really?”
More bird chirps “Yes, I am quite amused by human history and the words of your past leaders. Your people strove for the stars long before they had the proper technology to reach them like every other species, on a high gravity world no less. And despite these hurdles you made it to your moon in record time, had stable colonies on a barren world like Mars, and launched one of the most interesting if a bit crude ships. A ship you recently purchased. Had you not met the Union so soon then I believe your people would have continued to shock the galaxy. In some ways your people were cut short, and yet in other ways they were given the opportunity to leap into the future. You are most intriguing, and it would be folly to not keep an eye on you. The Union believes your people to be on the decline, soon to be no longer a threat to their might. I am of a different opinion.”
It was surprising to meet a person who had her completely figured out. From just the subtext Astarte was sure this contact knew all her plans and secrets, or had at least a few very good guesses. And seemed to want to help her out.
Astarte gave the Contact a shrewd glare. “What are you playing at?”
Their heavy eyelids dropped into a lazy half blink before opening back up. She thought the gesture was either one of annoyance or amusement. “A favor, given to the right person, can pay dividends in the future.”
“And what kind of returns are you looking for?”
Another half blink. It probably meant amusement. “That isn’t for me to say. You’ve had a very positive relationship with our agents in Femeri, or Orion as you Terrans call it. it is the League desire to continue nourishing that relationship.”
Suspicious, but one didn’t deal with the galaxy’s most powerful info brokers without some ominous undertones. “Then I take it you know why I’m here.”
Another long blink, this time fully closing their lids. “Yes.”
“Can you tell us where it is?”
“No. Amaterasu was thorough in covering their trail. I can only say that its still on Unity.”
Fuck. Why can’t things ever be easy? “Can you narrow down our search?” Astarte asked changing directions.
“Yes. Property info, delivery schedules, informant reports. And much more. It’ll take time to narrow things down.”
“I’m not short on manpower. Or patience.”
“Good. Now there is just the matter of the price.”
“I get the sinking feeling that you’re not talking credits.” Astarte stated dryly.
“An accurate feeling.” The Contact retorted. “We are an organization of information brokers and middle men, but even we need our own middle men. We cast a wide net to pull in much, but sometimes our needs require a more direct approach.”
“Spies?” Astarte guessed.
“Yes, or simple muscle to get what we need. Lately that muscle has been disappearing, I’m sure you noticed the aggressive way the Station Security treats your kind.”
“Yeah, the charges they tried to stick my men with were downright asinine, never would have stuck.”
Another long blink. “Yes, but the Union doesn’t need to make them stick. You more than most should know that the Union will imprison individuals on suspect of a crime before an investigation can be done to assure innocence.”
Astarte almost heard a click in her head as she connected the dots. The charges had seemed absurd and unfounded, and she had wondered why they bothered. But the Union could, in cases of an extreme crime, arrest and imprison without a trial or evidence. It was one of the major ways the Unions legal system differed from the local laws of the Sol system.
Guilty until proven innocent. It was the precedent that had gotten her mother imprisoned when Aster was four. While they had arrested a terrorist responsible for thousands of deaths and billions in property damage, they didn’t actually have the evidence. And once the lack of evidence had been undeniably proven in a court room Lucile’s sentence was ended and her record expunged of the black mark after spending ten months in the prison on Parox.
Asters throat was tight “How many have been…”
“Thousands. Tens of thousands. I would like to give you a better number, but someone has done a remarkable job at obfuscating that information. People are arrested on petty misdemeanors, if any, and then prosecutors from the central office apply some grander crime. They’re taken to a holding facility, where they stay for a short time before a ship comes to take them to parts unknown.”
“And no one’s done anything about this?”
“Oh, no. There were plenty of riots. But shouting, screaming Deathworlders committing acts of arson and clashing Station Security did little to sway the public. And after the ADCU was born things got even worse for the Terrans.”
“Motherfuckers” Astarte growled through her teeth. She didn’t know where all those people went, but everything so far pointed to some sort of genocide. Unity was purging itself of its Deathworlder nuisance.
“Yes, as effective as the ADCU has been at rooting out actual criminal organizations they have also been a highly effective at smother discontent.”
“And what do you want me to do about it.”
Their head tilted to the side. “You already have an in road with one of their top Officers, one who is the personal protégé of Chief Gin.”
“Do you want me to see where they’re taking people, or figure out why?”
“Both if possible. This has all the odious whiffs of politics, and the League needs to know why the Union is making such bold moves. Any and all information you dig up will be appreciated.”
Astarte drummed her fingers on the desk as she worked through the problems. Something dangerous was happening in the heart of the Union. Something that threatened her own plans. She had idly wondered why Amaterasu had been so bold in making their terraforming equipment disappear, why openly slaughter an entire office of insurance investigators? But now she saw it was par for the course her, and she was only now noticing the rot.
The contacts request was also in her own best interest. She needed to know where this all led.
But you never took the first offer. That was just good business. “It seems to me that our own investigations might help you in yours. I don’t see why we can’t do both at once.”
Another long blink. “You won’t be overextending yourself?”
Aster scoffed “of course not.”
The amphibian’s permanent smile became a little wider, “good. Its always a pleasure working with a professional.”
The contact then reached under their desk to retrieve a small flash drive, preloaded with all the info Aster needed.
“Just a heads up” Aster said as she retrieved the flash drive. “Our plans usually end in chaos and bloodshed.”
“Oh, I know. I’m looking forward to it.” the contact said with a self-amused giggle like gurgling water.
Their business concluded Astarte stood to leave. But the door she entered through didn’t unlock itself. Instead a hidden panel Astarte hadn’t noticed during her scan slid open and revealed a hidden stairway.
Astarte blinked in surprise before shaking her head. never underestimate the Shadow League.
She walked through the door, and ascended several flight of stairs until she exited into the reception room of a small law firm. The Drohodron attendant nodded their furry rabbit like head and gestured towards the exit.
The ride home was mostly uneventful. A group of SS tried to tail her, but some speed walking and a sudden turn down an alley was all it took to shake them.
She left the tram station and entered the industrial district where her ship was moored. She had been so relaxed on her walk back that she even began to whistle a jaunty little tune. She almost mixed the gentle thump behind and slight rush of wind as a blade swept from behind her, nearly taking her head off.
She had only an instant to lean forward to avoid the strike. With the strike barely avoided she took one step forward before drawing Tenken in swinging overhead chop.
Two green tinted blades strapped to her attackers wrists rose into a crossed guard to catch her sword the two of them struggled against each other’s strength. Aster was surprised at the strength the assassin possessed.
They struggled for a few seconds before breaking apart just as swiftly as they had met.
They both took several steps back and began to size each other up.
The assassin was short, standing at maybe 160cm. Their tight-fitting clothes marked the assassin as both human and female. Two curved blades were attached to the assassins wrists, looking like the curved pincers of a praying mantis, which matched the mantis-like mask she wore.
The assassin despite her failed sneak attack, and their inconclusive clash, had the gall to look smug. “Glad to see you haven’t grown weak in our time apart, Daisey.” The assassin gurgled through a heavy voice filter.
Previous/Patreon/Next

My boyfriend went to study out of the country for some time, when he was there (on the day of our birthday) he kissed another girl and I couldn't bring me to confront him for a lot of time.
When I did he said that he felt like he wasn't at fault since he told me, said sorry and he didn't consider kissing as cheating (since he do it all the time with his friends. Note he doesn't even knows this girl name). We argued for a while and he said that it was partially my fault since I couldn't satisfy him so he had to search somewhere else.
I do not know what to do since I'm pretty young and it is my first relationship, I just can't talk to him like I used to and he insist that it's partially my fault. Any advices?

HCOL, SoCal area. Partner and I make 150k combined, 50k savings for house, 45k other savings (cash, 401k). 680+ credit score and 800+ score, first time buyer. Only debt is 3k car note. What can we realistically afford, or should we rent and wait? We are in our 30s and no kids.

Like, he produces radiation, but comparing the actual blast to any real nuclear device is a very big stretch.
Firstly let's look at what sort of destruction SB is actually putting out. We get plenty of shots throughout the show that we can use, but the generally-held peak of his destructive output is in the finale of season 3. Unfortunately for me the voices won't stop until I've addressed all of them so that's what I'm going to do.
In episode four Soldier Boy is woken up from containment and does a little bit of trolling, immediately releasing a blast that launches Kimiko through a brick wall and dents another one. So far so meh.
His next blast is a PTSD-triggered one that eradicates the guy right in front of it and subjects the building behind him to a microscopic degree of trolling.
Next comes an atomic-scale instance of trolling that levells but doesn't completely destroy a cottage and produces a noticeable but not dangerous shockwave from hundreds of metres away (going by the time taken to reach Hughie and Annie).
At Herogasm Soldier Boy does a sub-atomic amount of trolling and absolutely flattens any section of a large building that is actually struck by his blast.
And finally we have The Big One in the show's finale, Soldier Boy does an amount of trolling so small and insubstantial that merely observing it causes a change in how it behaves.
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This, for contrast, is the W54. It is the single smallest nuclear weapon I was able to find via my limited research on the internet. Its yield varied quite a bit, but on the absolute lowest end was estimated as equivalent to roughly ten metric tons of TNT. This lower-end yield would be produced by at most 1.1 critical masses of plutonium-239, for reference.
Now to give you some actual scale for that, this is the MOAB- colloquially known as "The Mother of All Bombs". It's aptly named, as one of the highest-yield conventional explosive devices ever made, with an explosive power roughly comparable to 11 metric tons of TNT. For a sense of scale in the linked video detailing its test explosion, the bomb itself is thirty feet long.
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Now according to this extremely convenient calculator, a nuclear device with a yield of 11 tons of TNT would generate an explosion powerful enough to, at a radius of 48.4 metres, destroy or severely damage heavily built concrete structures- producing 20psi of overpressure in doing so. Obviously fatalities are almost 100% within this radius, not including radiation.
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So on the lowest reasonable end, this is what Soldier Boy is competing with for the power of his blasts. The lowest yield of the weakest nuke, which is fucking 100 times weaker than the highest yield mind, is generating enough force to flatten concrete walls within almost 1.6 blue whale body lenghts.
How does he measure up?
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Like, not very well.
Here's the blast again, watch carefully as you see it expand. You can probably notice that even at its widest, just after its expansion stops and before it starts to recede, the explosion is more or less comparable in width to Vought Tower. Slightly wider, you could say, but certainly not by any stretch. Now we're never given a precise width for Vought Tower in the show as far as I'm aware...
...But we don't need one. Being the good little researcher I am, I was able to find out that like many things in fiction, Vought Tower is based on reality. Or rather its base is. Using the Roy Thompson Hall as the bottom of the building, the show makes it into a skyscraper by digitally editing the rest of it on top. And skyscrapers, because of the ever-oppressive tyrant that is mathematics and gravity, are generally never thicker than at their base.
Which means we have figures for the exact width of the tower's ass-end. 24.3 metres at the thickest.
Allowing for an extra 25% for the blast, this gives us a diameter of 30.4 metres and a radius of 15.2. Which is less than 1/3 the 48.4 metre radius of the W54.
Returning to nukemap, a 0.00034 kiloton yield would be sufficient to generate a blast of this intensity (either destroying concrete structures completely or severely damaging them) at a radius of 15.2 metres. This is 0.34 tons of TNT, or just over 3% the destructive yield of the W54's lowest end estimate.
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For those of you who hate maths too much to read all that even for my winning personality, I'll surmise;

• An 11-ton nuke = one of if not the weakest in history
• Soldier Boy's blast = a 0.34-ton nuke in terms of actual destructive power
• We don't call anything ever "X level" if it's 30x weaker than the weakest example of X, so saying Soldier Boy is nuking people as anything but hyperbole is inaccurate

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tl;dr- New fear of imminent nuclear armageddon unlocked

What does it mean if your friend (female) messages you late at night jokingly asking you to come over because her roommate is away and she's scared of being alone at night? (I know it was a joke because she lives 8 hours away, before anyone says she wasn't joking).
We had a short chat to try and take her mind off things, and at the end I told her "night, feel free to message me if you get scared again ♥️" to which she replied "🥹♥️".
We're primarily online friends, though we've met in real life a couple times, the last of which involved a lot of kissing, hand-holding, and cuddling (some second/borderline third base? unsure) but I'm really bad at reading intent over text so I need a little help interpreting this interaction after the fact.
Any idea what it could mean?