***Lily*** “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have run off when I did. I should’ve known you would have my best interests at heart,” I whisper.
“I… I don’t have a heart…” He chuckles meekly.
I chuckle too and respond, “Still, you’re as generous as you are funny. Strong as you are quick. And clever as you are funny. As annoying as it can be sometimes.”
I laugh again. After a moment, I can feel the awkwardness lift as he chuckled then started to move his arms. Suddenly he hugs me back, tightly. Something wet ran down my cheek and I hear him murmur something and ask, “Did you say something?”
“What? No.” He says. He then pushes me back as he says, “Oh crap! We forgot to get you leather armor!”
“Now, now dearie. Believe it or not, we actually took care of it while you were running around looking for her.” Silkie says coming up towards us down the stairs.
“Oh. How did you…” he starts to say as he looks towards me. He then stops and stares at me for a minute. “What happened to your hair?” He asks.
“Oh! This? Believe it or not, this is my original hair color. Do you… do you like it?” I ask back.
“I do. It really is captivating.” He says, putting his hat back on.
I smile. Afterwards, we turn towards the voice that yells, “Yargh! All done. Let’s see how it fits now, yargh.”
It’s Mr. Doe holding the leather armor from before. “That was fast.” Silkie says.
“Yargh. I’ve done me fair share of tanning. This be nothing to a mighty man of the sea, yargh.” He says.
I get up and go over to try them on again.
“Hey John. You got here fast. Did you lock up shop already?” Wabbajack asks him.
“Lock? Why would I lock up me shop, yargh.” He answers.
There is a moment of silence at that statement.
“You’re joking. Right?” Wabbajack asks.
After I am done putting on the leather gloves, shin-guards, and breastplate, I notice that the gloves and shin-guards fit better, and the breastplate conforms a lot better to my shape than before too. “Wow, this is a lot better!” I announce.
“Wow, that is an impressive refit.” Silkie adds.
“Refit? From who?” Wabbajack asks.
“That was Iris’s old assassin armor.” Silkie answers.
Wabbajack looks back at the armor for a minute. Afterwards, he just says, “Impressive refit.”
I then to puff my face in annoyance.
Silkie looks back at Mr. John Doe and asks, “I gotta say, your skills with leather is astonishing but, I don’t think that you quite have what it takes to run your Own business. What do you say you come work for us? Open up your shop here? That way, you can focus on your leatherworks and we can handle your business side of things.”
He takes a puff of his corn-cob pipe and says, “Yargh, well. That would be a lot more fun for me too, yargh. Mayhaps…” He then shakes his head as he says, “Yargh, I can’t. I already have a shop. I can’t abandon it, yargh.”
At that point, a ball of eyeballs with a funny hat float towards him. It then says, “Observer 2-5-6-9 reporting. You are Mr. John Doe, correct?”
“Yargh, that be I. Who’s asking?” Mr. Doe responds.
“Observer 2-5-6-9. I regret to inform you that your store, “The Blubbering Walrus”, has been ransacked and looted. All items, including the boards that made the structure, were taken. We apologize for your loss. Would you like to make a report?” it answers in an almost robotic tone.
“Yargh! What! Me entire store is gone!” Mr. Doe exclaims.
What did you expect? You left the store unsupervised and unlocked. Still, it Is kinda surprising to hear that they took the Structure as well.
“Yes. Unfortunately, none of your items, or building, were insured by the Dimensional Union of Multiplying Basic Opportunities, so you will not be compensated for the loss of any of your stock. We wish you luck in your future endeavors.” It says as it floats towards me.
“Observer 2-5-6-9, reporting. Are you Lily Extravagund?” it then asks me.
“Um, yes?” I answer.
“I regret to inform you that your picnic basket was stolen in the recent raid on the “Blubbering Walrus”. Unfortunately, none of your items were insured by the Dimensional Union of Multiplying Basic Opportunities, so you will not be compensated for the loss. We apologize and wish you luck in your future endeavers.” It then floats away.
“Okay… that was interesting.” I say.
“You might want to reconsider her offer.” Wabbajack says.
“Yargh, business is hard. Very well madame. If you really think me works are worthy, I’ll reopen the Blubbering Walrus here. Although, I will need me own tools, yargh.” He says, offering his hand.
“That’s all well and good but, unfortunately, I am not the person to decide that. That would be up to Iris.” Silkie says, crossing two of her arms and putting one against her cheek and the other on her hip.
“Who? Yargh.” He asks.
“My sis.” Wabbajack says.
“Yargh! That be a surprise. Any advice?” Mr. Doe asks Wabbajack.
As helpful as ever, Wabbajack just shrugs. He then goes, “OH! Buffalo wings! She loves those.”
Silence.
“Don’t worry dear, I’ll put in a good word for you.” Silkie says. “Go ahead and wait down here while I go talk to her.” She says as she goes back up the stairs.
“Looks like you’re on the fast track to being part of the family John.” Wabbajack mentions, offering his hand.
Mr. Doe takes a puff and takes it. They then perform a vigorous shake. He then takes another puff and goes back to the cafeteria.
Wabbajack looks back towards me and asks, “Well. Take two, are you ready to try getting a familiar?”
I adjust all my new gear. From my mask and emblem to my still-empty quiver, all the way to my new shin-guards. Making sure that it’s comfortable. I then let out a chuckle. Wabbajack asks, “What’s so funny?”
“Nothing. I’m just starting to feel like a Real adventurer.” I answer.
He laughs. I then let out a laugh as well.
I then skip towards the door. As I am skipping, I look over my shoulder and say, “Come on! We still got to head to Mogsten’s!”
He adjusts his hat and says, “Coming!” He then starts walking behind me and says, “Hey! Shouldn’t You be following Me?”
I chuckle as I say, “Well then, move faster!”
I hear him chuckle as he immediately catches up to me.
We open the door and head on out back to Mogsten’s. I stay close to Wabbajack so not to get lost again. I eventually look back up to the sky, between the clouds and the flying creatures with and without cities on their back. It’s all so crazy. I feel more alive than I have felt in, well, ever. A month ago, I would have laughed someone out of town if they had told me a place like this existed. Now, I can’t help but imagine what else is out there. There must be So much if Wabbajack, with how much he has seen and done, if he still gets surprised every now and again. Magic is real, and it is Improved with science. A thought occurs however so I ask, “Hey, is there more than what’s here or is there other countries or whatever they might be called?”
He puts a finger to his chin and answers, “Well, it goes on forever. It’s all Spiritopia but there are different cultures depending how far out you go. Up is typically for the people who enjoy flying as opposed to walking and down is for the people who prefer something overhead at all times, like molemen, certain kinds of vampires, and some reptile people. The list goes on.” He then points to the right and says, “If I’m not turned around again, that should be towards the oceanic district, for the ones who enjoy or need to be moisturized at all times. The other way is the forest district where people who enjoy that kind of place. Personally, I have thought about a treehouse myself. Each kind of district offers unique kinds of goods but, the city district, the place that we are at now, offers goods from all of them but it’s more generalized. The forest district offers some unique fruits and poisons that aren’t sold here for example. But, unless you are looking for something incredibly specific, you should be able to find it here.”
“Wow… this place goes on forever huh?” I say amazed. I then ask, “What about sandy areas? Are there species who need that kind of environment?”
He shrugs and says, “Well, before you get to the oceanic district, there is quite a bit of sand. Not to mention, sand bathing is surprisingly popular so there are businesses here that offer that service. But, not exactly popular material to build on. Some people like to go camping there however.”
It’s like a veritable playground. I ask another question, “Now that I think about it, was this place always like this or were there people who cultivated it like this?”
He tilts his head as he answers, “Well, that’s the thing with certain dimensions. Some just are. This is a perfect example of that kind of place. There is no history, no records, or no previous involvement. This place was just paved and ready for the first group of people who came by. Although, what was weird, even by my standards, was that there were Detailed instructions on how to cultivate All this. That is the only time that had Ever happened AND people following it.”
“Wait. Instructions? So… Someone left it?” I ask.
“Well, yes. Someone had to. The problem is, there was no traces on it whatsoever. It’s like it came with the dimension.” He answers, pointing a finger in the air.
“And that doesn’t happen often?” I ask as well.
“Well, the instructions part is actually pretty common. But it was discovered by a group of people with the diversity and skill that were willing to follow it. That. That takes planning of an extraordinary scale. Most people, even with the instructions, just ignore it and start doing their own thing. Which usually causes problems down the road. Hubs like this are rare admittedly. Especially as free as it is.” He answers again, this time scratching his head.
“So, is Spiritopia one of a kind?” I ask.
“As far as I know but, I wouldn’t be surprised if there was another similar to it however.” He says, as he walks normally again.
I look forward to try and process all this stuff but, as I do, I see Mogsten’s sign over his tent.
Before we walk in, I stop Wabbajack.
“Hmm? Don’t tell me your having doubts now, are you?” he asks.
I shake my head and say, “I Have to know something.”
“What’s up?” he asks.
“Is chewed gum really an ingredient in certain things?” I ask.
He lets out a laugh as he answers, “Surprisingly. The fact that they are pre-chewed make it easier to get samples from certain creatures. For example, would you rather get venom directly from a snake or trick it with some gum and extract it that way?”
“I guess that is a possibility…” I say.
“Don’t get me wrong, it’s Definitely not as concentrated as pure extract but, it’s usually good enough for moderate level stuff.” He explains.
We stand there for a minute. He then asks, “Was that all?”
I snap out of it and say, “Oh! Yes. Let’s do this!” I then march right through the flap towards the surprisingly large inside.
As we enter, we see Mogsten, in full on bit mode, with a customer. Looks like a fishman.
“Yes. It is quite a rare piece. I don’t see how I could sell it for anything less than, say, a thousand currency?” I hear him say.
“A thousand! Forget that! I would buy it for twenty currency.” The fishman says.
“But sir, giant’s horns are indeed rare. Not to mention to find one willing to give it up is even More difficult. I don’t know when I would ever get another one! Nine hundred fifty.” Mogsten states.
“Ha! Nine hundred fifty? Dude, this shop is terrible! If you don’t want me to spread the word around that you rip off your customers with absurd prices Gnome!” He pauses and grabs the horn. He then says, “Then I guess the price on this is free. Ha!”
“Actually, nine hundred fifty is a pretty fair price for a giant’s horn.” Wabbajack points out.
“And who asked…” he starts to say as he turns around. He then sees Wabbajack and panics “A-a-a-a. You! Crap! Look, don’t kill me man! Look, I’ll give you the horn! Just, don’t hurt me!”
“Umm, that horn isn’t yours though. You haven’t paid Mr. Mogsten for it yet.” I point out.
“Shut up you brat! I ain’t talking to you! Besides, he’s a Gnome. What’s he gonna do? Throw rocks at me?” the fishman says.
Wabbajack steps towards him and he just falls backwards. Before the fishman can even mouth whatever he wants to say, Wabbajack says, “One, this “brat” is a very good friend of mine. Two, gnome or not, you don’t just take whatever products you want just because you feel like it. Three, that gnome could easily kill you in any number of ways. And four, you won’t make any friends if you continue being as rude as you have been.”
I see a puddle appear on the floor and some gasping. He then just falls flat. He looks like he is still breathing.
[First] [Previous]

Would love a video on CA Plane Pour Moi by Plastic Bertrand. Such a unique French punk rock/ New wave track. Although it only reached #47 in the states, I still think it'd be a fun one to cover.

The garage door shut with a groan behind us, closing us in the gloom of the single bulb hanging over the car.
Mother took a drag off her cigarette and sighed as she exhaled, the smoke filled the cabin of the Ford and stung my eyes.
“You really disappointed me today, Julianne," she tapped her cigarette in the ashtray below the dash, "you embarrassed me in front of the other mothers at the Ice Cream Social, shoveling down seconds and thirds like a pig. I thought I raised you better than that.”
She took another drag, daintily holding the cigarette between her perfectly manicured fingers.
“I'm going to have to tell your brother about this," she continued, “he'll have to come up with a punishment fit for a pig."
I felt my stomach drop. My kid brother, Thomas, was only six, but could be exceptionally cruel. Mother seemed to encourage him and was deferring to him more and more frequently for how the house was run, especially concerning my upbringing.
"Mother, please, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to embarrass you. I'm sorry I was a pig and ate so much ice cream. I promise I won't do it again, I'll never eat any ice cream again," I was pleading with stone, unyielding.
“Hush your mouth. Go to your room and wait for Thomas," she put out the cigarette and got out of the car, I had no choice but to follow.
It felt like walking to the gallows as I stepped inside the house and headed towards the stairs to go to my room. Thomas had grown fond recently of physical punishment, he obviously delighted in Mother whipping me with a belt or, recently, Mother had allowed him to start beating me with a wooden spoon. He would squeal and giggle like a normal child watching bubbles in the wind while I screamed. I was dreading whatever was going to happen tonight, I chastised myself for eating that ice cream, I should have known she would show up. My sins were always laid bare.
Down the hall, I could hear Thomas watching television in the den. I only got to watch TV for half an hour on Saturday morning and new episodes of Happy Days with Mother and Thomas. Thomas got to watch all the TV he wanted. He could listen to the radio and turntable as much as he wanted, as loud as he wanted. Thomas had an entire room just for his toys.
I entered my bedroom, it was a space I occupied, but it didn't feel like mine. Mother kept it spartan, white walls and white bedspread. A crucifix over the bed and a painting of Jesus over the door. I had my desk and chair and a dresser with some of the porcelain dolls Daddy gave me before he died that Mother let me keep. That was it.
I placed my book bag down and sat on my bed, waiting for Thomas. It was a while, sitting there with nothing but my own thoughts and staring at the open door. I felt humiliated, I was almost thirteen and my entire life was dictated by my brother. Mother kept the house in constant lockdown to keep Thomas a secret. No outsiders were allowed in. I couldn't have friends because she was afraid I would mention him or sneak a friend in to gawk at my brother and tease him for being different.
I would never make fun of him, I was terrified of him. Terrified of what he was and what he was becoming.
Eventually I heard his heavy footsteps coming up the stairs and I felt my heart start beating faster and my palms began to sweat. I kneaded my skirt in my hands, trying to calm myself and dry my palms. His slow arrhythmic footsteps came down the hall and I watched him as he entered the room.
I couldn't help but internally recoil at his appearance, even though I'd known him since he was born, I could never adjust to how unnatural he appeared. Thomas had been born at home and had never seen a doctor, but he was obviously unwell.
He was six years old and was barely over two feet tall, but very squat and wide. His skin was thick and gray, the whites of his beady eyes were yellow and his hair was wispy and white like an old man's, spreading out like a halo around his gargoyle face. A slight odor of decomposition hung about him, it reminded me faintly of garbage cans on a hot summer day. I hated when Mother made me help him with a bath, his skin felt like old brittle leather that flaked onto my clothes in gray flecks. His body was dense like concrete, I could barely lift him into the tub. Picking him up forced his hair into my face where that smell of rot would fill my nose, causing me to gag, silently, so as not to offend him and draw any ire from him or Mother.
Today, Thomas was wearing bib overalls with a red and green striped sweater underneath, reminding me of a grotesque doll.
“Mama says you acted like a piggy today at the ice cream social,” he spoke up to me in his unsettlingly high pitched, yet raspy voice, like a child that smoked as much as Mother, "you need to come down for dinner right now for your punishment for embarrassing Mama."
He turned and walked back down the stairs and I had no choice but to follow his toddling form downstairs to the dining table. We entered the kitchen and the table was placed with two settings. Mother was already seated and Thomas clambered up into his booster seat at his normal spot next to Mother. She took a drag off her cigarette and motioned vaguely to the floor without even looking at me.
Neatly situated on the linoleum was my dinner, not on a plate, but directly on the floor. A pork chop, scoop of mashed potatoes, and a small pile of peas. No utensils, either.
Thomas giggled with glee upon seeing my face.
“You have Mama's permission now to eat like a piggy, now. No hands! Piggies just use their face!” He stood up in his chair and reached out for Mother’s ash tray and flung it out over my meal, peppering my dinner with cigarette ash and butts.
"Oops! Piggies don't mind trash though, do they, Mama?” he giggled and the sound filled me with rage.
"No, they don't,” Mother replied coolly while maneuvering her ashtray back in place and carefully putting out her cigarette before saying prayer.
As angry as I was, I got down on my hands and knees and did my best at eating what I could without using my hands. I knew if I refused, it would be far worse. The whole meal, Thomas made pig noises and would reach down and poke me with his fork, making comments about what a fat piggy I was and how he wished he could roast and eat me. I doubted Mother would even object if he actually did kill me and eat me.
Gagging my way through another bite of ashy pork chop, I felt a warm splat over my head and heard Thomas giggling. I reached up and felt he had dumped mashed potatoes into my hair.
Choking down tears, I asked Mother if I could clean the floor and bathe. She rolled her eyes and excused me to clear the table for them as well while she changed Thomas into his pajamas. Picking him up, she walked out of the room and Thomas stuck his putrid little purple tongue out at me before they made it out the kitchen door.
I silently cried while I cleared the table and washed the dinner dishes. Tears splashed down as I mopped up the mess from my food on the floor. I hated how awful Thomas was. I hated how they treated me. Ever since Daddy died and Thomas showed up, I was their punching bag. I missed Daddy so much.
Mother was kinder then, too. She was still severe, but Dad kept her tempered. After he died, there was a change that came over her. I was only six, so I didn't remember her too much from before, but I did remember her gushing on and on when she was pregnant with Thomas. How the baby was a gift from Our Heavenly Father, that it was going to complete our broken family.
My sixth birthday happened right after Daddy died and I remember sitting on the patio crying while the house was full of people after the funeral, normally he would have gotten me a new doll and a chocolate bar, instead I was forgotten. No doll. No chocolate. Just funeral potatoes and a house full of cigarette smoke from the adults.
Nobody remembered. The closest thing I got was my dad's sister, Aunt Judy, sitting next to me on the patio step for a few minutes of comfortable silence before giving my shoulder a reassuring squeeze. I don't think she knew her brother was memorialized on my birthday. Next year, Thomas was born the day before my birthday, so it was completely eclipsed as Mother had just birthed her new love into the world…
I stopped mid mop as a lightbulb finally went off. I had never put much thought into the dates before.
Thomas was born a full year after Daddy died. He couldn't be his dad. Who was Thomas’ actual father?
Washing mashed potatoes out of my hair that evening, I ran over and over the timeline. No matter how I parsed it out, Thomas was only my half brother. Going to bed that night, I kept myself awake, going over and over again to make sure. I couldn't remember any men being around at that time, but that didn't mean much. Adults can easily hide things from children. Tension began throbbing through my head and I felt queasy. Mother had always known all of my secrets, able to sniff them out like a bloodhound out or using Thomas to spy. Now I had one of Mother's secrets and I didn't know what to do with it.
First I wanted to confirm it, but it would mean snooping, which was difficult in a house that was rarely left empty. I would have to try finding Mother's calendar book or journal to see if she mentioned any dates or men.
But when could I attempt such a daring maneuver? Thomas hardly left the house. As proud as Mother was of him, she was very cognizant and protective of his differences and didn't want to draw attention to herself or Thomas like that. Mother herself had few social engagements throughout the week and mostly stayed home to watch her golden child.
I finally decided I would take the risk and fake sick on Tuesday, grocery day, so I could stay home from school while she went shopping. All Thomas did all day was watch TV downstairs, so that should give me about an hour to look through her room for clues. I decided to tuck my head down, try to behave as best as I could to avoid their wrath, and wait for Tuesday.
That weekend limped along agonizingly slow. Thomas was in a fine mood and was constantly seeking out a reason to poke me, punch me, slap me… he'd laugh while calling me a piggy with his off-putting wide mouth. I tried to mostly stay in my room and it seemed like neither of them cared.
School on Monday was a relief, but my anxiety ramped up. The consequences would be dire if Mother caught on that I was faking sick to stay home. I didn't even want to imagine how off the leash she'd let my half-brother become in his punishment for that level of insubordination.
I stayed up all night, my stomach was in knots, but I was committed to my plan. Throughout the night, I screamed as hard as I could into my pillow. Screamed until my throat was raw and I could barely talk. It felt cathartic in a way. When it was close to school time, I put on my heaviest flannel pajamas and began doing jumping jacks until my face was flushed and my scalp was soaked with sweat.
Looking in the bathroom mirror before heading down to talk to Mother, I thought I looked pretty convincing, my skin was flushed and sweaty, my eyes had circles under them from lack of sleep, and my voice croaked like a frog.
Heading downstairs, Mother was already feeding Thomas breakfast. I hesitantly stepped into the kitchen and stood there awkwardly for a second, pawing with my pajamas to keep my nerves steady until she noticed my presence and looked up.
“Why aren't you dressed, Julianne?"
"I don't feel well. My throat hurts and my tummy hurts.” My voice graveled out more than I was expecting, I really had hurt my throat.
She strode over to me and placed a cool hand on my sweaty brow.
"You do feel warm. Take an aspirin from the medicine cabinet and go lay back down. I'll check on you later," with that she turned back and walked over to Thomas, who was frozen in place, glaring at me over a forkful of scrambled eggs. The sharp glint of malice in his beady eyes made me shiver before I shuffled out of the kitchen.
I laid in bed, trying my best to look miserable until I eventually heard the faint sound of the television playing in the den as Thomas settled in for his normal daytime routine and the garage door opened as Mother headed to the grocery store. I bounded out of bed and watched the car back out of our driveway and head up the street.
My heart began to pound as I tiptoed down the hall to Mother's bedroom, a place I rarely even caught a glimpse of, let alone entered. I very slowly opened the door, taking great care to not make any noise to alert Thomas downstairs that I was out of bed.
Creeping into the butter yellow room, I could feel my heartbeat pounding in my skull, this was the naughtiest thing I had ever done by far. I stepped onto the rug to help disguise my footsteps and slowly made my way past the brass bed and towards her desk. My hands shook as I opened the top drawer, I pawed through rapidly and found nothing. I checked the next drawer down and again found nothing of interest, just stationary and envelopes.
Finally, the bottom drawer was what I was looking for, a stack of journals from the past decade. I flipped through, trying to find entries relevant to when Daddy died and who Mother slept with afterwards.
I've never fully recovered from what I read.
July 6, 1968
Edgar died today. Car accident. I cannot believe this is real. My light, my life, my anchor... Dr. Benson gave me a sedative at the hospital and I feel so tired. So very, very tired. Why has my Lord forsaken me so?
July 9, 1968
I feel like I am in a very bad dream, I feel numb and disconnected. All the consolation and pity from everyone makes me feel sick. After the memorial, it took everything in me to not break dishes and to scream at everyone to get out of my house. Julianne was moping about crying and I wanted to throw her out, too.
If I hadn't seen my dear Edgar's body in the hospital and held his urn in my own hands, I wouldn't believe he was really gone. I still don't entirely believe it.
I have prayed to God every night asking him to show me why he took my husband from me and I have gotten no answer.
I skimmed over the next few months, as it was more or less similar sentiments repeated night after night. I finally got to an entry that caught my eye.
September 17, 1968
My battle with my faith has been fraught the past few months, but Hallelujah! I feel I can see the Lord again in all his glory and might, for he has given me a way to reconnect to my Edgar!
I was thinking about the night Julianne was born, right in this very home, it was a difficult birth and she struggled to breathe at first. Ingrid, my midwife, made a comment to me that if the baby had failed to wake up on her own, that Ingrid had ways to make sure she would have made it.
I remember asking if it was a medical methodology and she made it clear to me that in certain circumstances, it was a mystical property she used to bring the air of life into a struggling baby's lungs. She gently alluded to being a practicing member of the dark arts. At the time, I felt quite scandalized to have someone like that in my God fearing home. Now I see her as the answer to my prayers! My angel!
On a whim, I called her and asked if she still practiced such techniques. She hesitantly confirmed that she did. I asked, if she could turn breath into the lungs of a child without, could she turn breath into a child that did not exist? Could she magick into existence another child of my beloved Edgar? She told me she had to do some research and she'd be back in touch.
Ingrid just called back after a few hours and said there was a spell she found, but it was dangerous and might have unpleasant results. I said, yes, of course! I trust my Lord and I believe he sent this woman of blessed magick to me for this purpose.
She says we will have to do it soon, in a few days during the new moon. She has a potion to brew, but it is happening! Praise God!
September 23, 1968
The ceremony was last night, and Ingrid believes it was a success, but we will have to wait. It did not take long, only an hour or two. Ingrid lit my bedroom with many beeswax candles and she had me drink a thick and bitter tea that caused me to become quite relaxed and foggy.
From my inner thigh, she cut me and collected my blood in a chalice, with which she mixed quite a lot of Edgar's ashes and other ingredients which I could not glean from my supine position and groggy wits. Ingrid began to chant, calling upon a higher power, as I pleaded with my Lord to let this work. To give me any piece of my Edgar back. She came to the bed and worked the paste between my legs into my womanly chamber, which was very uncomfortable, but manageable with the numbing effects of the tea.
She continued to sit with me and chant, her hand placed over my womb, until she decided at which time it was complete. She left and I fell into a deep sleep. When I woke up this morning, I felt quite uncomfortable, my body ached and when I used the restroom, a yellow fluid like pus poured out of me, but no sign of any ashes or blood, which gives me hope it was absorbed into my womb.
November 3, 1968
Praise be to our Lord, Ingrid just confirmed for me that I am with child, I had been hoping so, I had not gotten my cycle in October, but I wasn't sure if that was because of the discharge like pus that was still coming. She told me that was common with this spell and a side effect that would stop after the baby came.
I feel like I am floating on air, for the first time since Edgar left, I feel-
I suddenly became very aware of the feeling of eyes on the back of my head. I had become too engrossed in what was written before me and I had lost track of my surroundings. Very slowly, I turned around and my heart began pounding again as I saw Thomas standing in the doorway holding his wooden spoon in one hand. How had I not heard him?
He pointed at me with his empty hand and screamed, just a pure guttural screech from somewhere deep inside his disgusting little body. He charged at me from across the room, his horrible feet thumping solidly along the rug. He began beating my legs ruthlessly with the spoon, causing my legs to buckle. I crashed down to my knees in front of him, and he began lashing at my face, pulling my hair with one hand while wailing away at my head with the spoon.
I had dropped the journal I was holding and was desperately trying to get a hand on the spoon or push him away. All I could hear was him screaming. My arms flailed and I reached around on Mother's desk and grabbed onto the first thing I found and sank it into Thomas’ neck.
The end of Mother's gold letter opener protruded under his jaw. He went silent and he looked at me with utter shock. He dropped the spoon and collapsed on the ground, clutching at his neck as his thick black blood oozed out from his wound, letting out a stupendous odor of rot that filled the room. He didn't really say anything or make any noise. He just twitched for a moment and I saw his eyes glaze over.
In shock, I stood over his little body for a moment and I watched as he seemed to mummify in just a few minutes, like an ash person from Pompeii dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt. Even his blood that looked like shiny oil a second ago became like potting soil on Mother's rug. Reaching out to touch his hand, it crumbled away like sand.
Panic ran through me like a rabbit caught in a snare. Not knowing what to do, I ran. I ran down the hall, changed my clothes, put an extra change of clothes in my backpack and the last doll Daddy had ever given me and I ran. Mother would absolutely never forgive me and I was genuinely afraid she would kill me in retaliation for taking her beloved Thomas away from her. Her precious gift from God. My feet flew over the pavement and took me away from that house.
I called my Aunt Judy from a payphone outside the five & dime, and told her Mother had kicked me out and asked if I could stay with her. She had always had a strained relationship with my mother and it didn't take much convincing that she had kicked out her “only” child. Only Mother, Ingrid, and I ever knew about Thomas.
She gave me a home and took care of me. She never beat me or humiliated me. Even with her love, I was far from okay. For years I would close my eyes and hear Thomas scream, then the sudden silence. I'd see him fumbling at his neck and turning to ash. But I would also remember all the ways he would hurt me and how bad he was becoming. I could never talk to anyone about it, especially not the silent relief I felt I refused to admit to myself. Over time, however, Thomas' screams became a whisper and his silence faded into dust in my mind.
I moved on with my life. I went to college and became a photojournalist, getting to travel the world and watch history unfold. By choice, I never married, but was quite blessed with many beautiful friendships for companionship over the decades. I found balance in my life and a sense of happiness, if not peace. I never could quite stomach mashed potatoes again, though, they always taste ashy to me.
Mother never made any attempts to reach out to me or find me, at least that I'm aware of. Ten years ago, I was contacted by a hospital and they said my mother had been admitted earlier after falling and was about to pass, so she must have kept some tabs on me to know my phone number for her emergency contacts. Apparently she had collapsed in the driveway and a neighbor called an ambulance. I got there and her only words to me were, “take care of him," as she placed a locket in my hand. I opened the locket, Jesus was on one side, Thomas on the other. I didn't say anything to her, just held her frail old hand with nicotine stained nails until she passed in the night. My mother was gone and I felt nothing except a vague sense of relief.
When I got to her house, it was like a time capsule. Other than a newer television, it was just like it was when I'd fled so many years ago. The smell of tobacco smoke hung like incense in the air. It felt oppressive, like a tomb.
I wandered the house in a bit of a daze. The one place I didn't want to go was upstairs. I didn't want to see my old room, or Thomas' room, or Mother's. Putting it off, I went to fix myself some supper, realizing I hadn't eaten in almost a day. I took a pause when I opened the fridge and saw a baby bottle on a shelf. Silently praying she had been babysitting for a neighbor, I fixed myself some toast with sardines and sat eating in the den watching TV. It had been almost forty years and it still felt rebellious not eating at the table and watching TV without permission.
My eyes grew heavy and I finally mustered up the gumption to head upstairs to go to bed. The stairs creaked in a familiar way under my feet and I was taken back to the feeling of dread hearing either Mother or Thomas climbing up. My old room was at the top of the stairs, I saw the door was nailed shut and had rambling quotes about Judas copied from the Bible in my mother's handwriting taped to the door. I sighed gently and turned from the door to head down the hallway, deciding Mother's room was probably the best place to sleep.
I passed by Thomas’ toy room and I heard a murmur from the room. I stopped, curiosity got the best of me and I entered. In Thomas' old toy room was a crib with joyful clown sheets. Dread swelled up inside me as I heard more murmurs and saw the sheets move. Approaching slowly, I peaked under the sheet and gasped.
Tucked inside was what looked like a baby gargoyle, gray and papery looking. Pus leaked out of its milky, bulbous eyes. I pulled back the blanket and saw it had no legs and its arms bent back, like wings on a bird. It was wearing just a cloth diaper, overflowing with tarry looking stool that took my breath away with its pungency, it smelled like Thomas’ blood, but somehow worse. My heart broke for this poor creature, Lord only knows how many years it has been in this crib suffering from its unholy existence.
So this is who Mother had wanted me to take care of…
Not knowing what else to do, I gently scooped him up. Like Thomas, he was shockingly heavy for how small his body was. Placing him on the changing table, I cleaned him and rewrapped his bottom in a clean diaper cloth. It was difficult, he fussed tremendously, crying and flopping around as much as his flipper-like arms would allow. I tried wiping off his oozing eyes and he snapped his mouth, which I saw was full of disturbingly square yellow teeth, trying to bite me. I carried him to the kitchen and rocked him while I heated up his bottle and he became furious with me, almost barking like a dog when my hand would get near his face.
He settled a bit as he fed, but he would still sometimes suddenly spit out the bottle and attempt to bite me. I laid him back in his crib, this abomination in a clown sheet, and I walked down the hall to Mother's room letting out a long sigh.
Combing through my mother's journals in the early hours of the morning, it looked like she tried the ceremony again shortly after Thomas died, but she either lacked Ingrid’s help or didn't have enough of my father's ashes left. Something went terribly wrong. She was vaguer than she had been about Thomas’ conception, but I suspect she had used some of Thomas' remains. The resulting birth she named Isaac.
Mother's journals told a sad tale of her and Isaac's suffering. She never mentioned me, but lamented the loss of Thomas and Dad relentlessly. She was hyper protective of Isaac, as that was all she had left. If her world had been small before, it became microscopic after he entered her life, requiring nearly constant care. According to Mother, he was blind and colicky, sometimes going years at a time without sleeping through the night. She had breast fed him for years, but she had to stop after he grew teeth and began biting her intentionally and feeding on her blood.
I spent a lot of time over the next few days pondering what to do. I had to get her estate in order, she had left me the house, in an obvious attempt to get me to continue caretaking for Isaac, but I didn't want it. I had my own cozy home an hour away from here, filled with happy memories and my possessions acquired traveling the world. Mother's home had a heavy energy I couldn't shake. Her and Thomas were both gone, but the memories of the scoldings and beatings hung in every corner, like cobwebs that would never sweep away.
So, I fed Isaac and kept him clean and tried to keep him company, although he seemed to hate me passionately. I took care of him, all the while thinking about what I was going to do. After a week, I felt resolute in what had to be done.
Gathering up all of Mother's journals in a tote, I made my way to Isaac and picked him up and carried everything to the living room.
The ancient logs in the fireplace meant for display ignited instantly. One by one, I fed the journals into the fire, burning away years of my mother's consuming sorrow. Isaac fussed and moaned next to me the entire time. When the last pages shimmered away into lacy ash, I took a throw pillow off the couch and gently cradled Isaac in my other arm. It didn't take long before he stopped struggling and I felt his little body relax after decades of suffering.
I gently wrapped up a bundle in a clown sheet and placed it in the fire. It burned furiously, like the paper in my mother's journals, and was soon gone. Nothing but ashes and embers.
“Don't worry, Mother,” I said purely for my own sake, "I took care of Isaac for you."
And finally, I felt at peace.

So I’ve been playing the game for a while and haven’t really touched planes much. I’m a German main and have almost finished the entire tech tree. I really only play ground RB and I always get jealous of the CAS I get killed by haha.
Any good recommendations for a good grinder premium to use? I know it’s really only between the Hunter F.58 (been working on squad xp for a while. Isn’t too expensive if I use GE), the Tornado IDS, and the MiG 21.
I want to be able to do air RB with the choice as to get research, but also want to be able to use said choice in ground RB as well as CAS.
Most everyone I’ve talked to said the Hunter is the best choice due to the low price I’m at.
Would love to hear some advice from someone who uses planes a lot!

What a comedy of error this has been with delta. First they bring on a bigger plane to handle more capacity. Then they realize the bigger plane is over fueled so they delay the flight 30 mins to get the plane back to the weight needed. Then they board everybody on the plane and learn that by the time the flight will be in air, the pilots will turn to pumpkin - apparently they would have an hour over their FAA allocated time of flying. So the pilots peace out leaving 300 passengers in the cold. The flight is now delayed 5.5 hours, new crew comes in. Then they learn that the plane is nose heavy, so they can’t fly. Now they are moving luggage modules around. No A/C, no service and no remorse. Didn’t realize Delta was inspiring to beat American Airlines in the most terrible customer experience. Sitting in the flight 90 mins now. Hope we are airbound soon 🤞🏾.
I am reading more and more of these on this board. Makes me sad. I loved flying delta.

I've decided on the 61 key korg microkey.. not sure yet about "air" vs wired. My question is: which ipad.
this is just for portable practice for my nephew. He has a real piano, so no need to tell me this doesn't replicate that (in case you were gonna : ) ) .. so I need to decide on which ipad to buy.
I'd like it to be, at the newest, something with lightning port and separate headphone jack. I have the right dongle to get the korg midi usb out into the ipad already.
So, lets say I get him a ** 7th gen regular ipad ** (the oldest one that will run the newest iOS, 17) .. that's an A10 fusion chip.. will there be latency when he plays the korg microkey with midi out? will it be able to work with the microkey air wirelessly?
separately.. this thing is probs going to be un-updatable soon.. how do we get garageband recordings off of it besides icloud? can i like..share an mp3 track with whatsapp or telegram or some such? or am i stuck in icloud/airdrop to another apple device only land..
lastly, any other virtual instruments/vst pianos you recommend i should buy? maybe less resource intensive than using garageband ones for live practice?
thanks so so much !

Hello, I have been to Japan 1 time around 5 years ago before Covid. I spent the full time in Tokyo with the exception of one night around Mt. Fuji. I will be traveling with a friend this month, we are both Male and it is his first time. Most of my questions are regarding Kyoto, specifically how to get around. We are considering getting bicycles to ride to each location we would like to visit but google maps says its around 20 miles. We are both very fit and cycle often but since we are unsure of what the weather will be and how getting around on a bike is, we are not sure if its the best idea. Possibly may have to drop something to see in Kyoto, or push one thing to the evening prior or next morning instead. Please let me know your thoughts on the entire itinerary as well as my concerns regarding Kyoto. Also the only thing we dont have booked is both Shinkansen rides and ways too and from HND. Should we book them now?
23rd - Thursday - Land in Tokyo (HND) at 4pm. Scan QR code for eSim (need to figure out still). Exchange money. (Figure out best way to get from HND to Shinjuku, currently looking at Limo Bus). Check into AirBnB(in Shinjuku). Wander around close to home for the night and grab food.
24th - Friday - Head over to Ryogoku station, see the Sword Museum, then get to the Sumo Tournament around 1-2pm to catch the final two divisions. Probably head back to Shinjuku AirBnb and wander more around Kabukicho.
25th - Saturday - Go to Shibuya. Visit Meiji Jingu,Yoyogi Park, Nintendo Tokyo, Center Gai, Shibuya Scramble and possibly Shibuya Sky. (Considering Government Building instead / as well, maybe one in morning and other at night). Maybe Karaoke here or back near the AirBnB in Shinjuku.
26th - Sunday - Imperial Palace and the East Garden. Then to Akihabara where I will be spending a good amount of time wandering and shopping. Going to a bar in Shinjuku to watch the Monaco GP F1 Race at 10PM.
27th - Monday - Go to Nakano Broadway to do some shopping. Then go to Ikebukuro and Sunshine City, Pokemon Center and wander around.
28th - Tuesday - Take the already reserved Highway Bus at 9:45am (Shinjuku Expressway Bus Terminal) to Kawaguchiko Station (2 hours). Store luggage. Pick up our already reserved bikes at Kawaguchiko station at noon, bike to Chureito Pagoda, then Oishi Park, then around the rest of Lake Kawaguchi, Fujiomurosengen Shrine, then return the bikes. Check into AirBnB anytime after 4PM. Relax, enjoy the scenery of the lake and Mt. Fuji (fingers crossed).
29th - Wednesday - Take an already reserved Bus via Sekitori from Kawaguchiko Station (track no. 6) at 10:20am to Mishima Station North Gate (1 hour 30 min). Take the Shinkansen to Kyoto ( 2 hours 20 min). Maybe use a luggage locker to explore prior to checking into AirBnB (just south of Kyoto Imperial Palace) after 3pm. Go to Kyoto Imperial Palace and Garden or Nijo Castle. Wonder around for the rest of the day.
30th - Thursday - Need help getting to and from locations. Sights we would like to see during this day may be too busy? Should we move one of them to the evening prior or to the next morning? Kinkaku-ji, Arashiyama Bamboo Forest, Togetsukyo Bridge, Arashiyama Monkey Park. Then a section of Fushimi Inari and the section of Kiyomizu-dera and Higashiyama Ward.
31st - Friday - Visit any remaining spots if we chose to in Kyoto, take Shinkansen to Tokyo. Check into AirBnB. Go to Shinjuku Gyoen National Garden and Harajuku.
1st - Saturday - Early afternoon rent a car and go to Yokohama, visit Nissan Engine Museum and Nissan Gallery/Boutique. Then head to Diakoku Parking Area and hang out till it closes.
2nd - Sunday - Go to Senso-ji, Kaminarimon, then to Tokyo Sky Tree and Sky Tree Pokemon Center. If time left then go back to Asakusa to shop around Nakamise and Shin-Nakamise or open to suggestions.
3rd - Monday - Leaving this day open to decide what we want to do while we are there.
4th - Tuesday - Check out, head to the airport (Limo Bus?) (HND) for a 5:15pm flight.

In the mid-nineties we began to see strange formations in long rows of “clouds” globally. Despite attempts at overthrow and Roswell -type deviations , cloud seeding by various high-ranking military and aviation groups, it became clear since 2000 that CHEMTRAILS were a real and tangible phenomenon.
Cliff Carnicom gives 7 possible reasons for this aerosol spraying end game. As with many dot-omega systems, we are unable to reduce this to a singular cause or a binary choice. Chemtrails are a covert, high - level black project , and as we've said elsewhere, it's one they've kept under lock and key for a decade. These include:
HAARP -related stratospheric communication
ELF Waves communication
plasma and ionization
military techniques for pan-optical vision
a method of tracking and/or interrupting UFO visits
population reduction through toxins etc.
Only a spate of chemtrails found over the years were various forms of fibers, tubes and fungi. Until recently, what this did to humans was not known. This could have changed and the consequences are bizarre.
LINKING CHEMTRAILS, NANO TECH, MORGELLONS :
The pseudo-illuminoids bring a precursor to the final deception in the possible form of a hyper-agent sent decades ahead, as usual: in plain sight.
Or could it be that the aerosol spraying link is not yet fully established? We can suggest this if we go back to one of the main statements made by a bio-chemist from within the establishment, who came out and spoke on the subject.
He stated in an interview about Project Shield that to prevent UV rays from penetrating the ecosystem – that these same trails were part of the plasma base that supports the metal particles used in aerosol spraying. .
CHIMERA – SILICONE BASED BIO-DATA TERMS, REACHING THE NERVOUS SYSTEM NEAR YOU.
The NANO BUG HAS different kinds of INTELLIGENCE, including what microbiologists call 'quorum sensing' – essentially this means that the cells communicate at a non-local [or hive] level. This element of things is supported by personal experience in diseases where individuals observed that fibers responded in bizarre ways to various environmental inputs. For example – the 'organism' will climb out of a bleach solution within a few hours, if given a method of escape.
It is interesting that few people, even the so-called left field research area on the ground, are prepared to confront just what this agent could be. Once you invest time understanding even basic biology and biological warfare weaponry, you can only conclude that it exists outside of any consensual philosophy.
Investigation of Morgellons and Chemtrails – Local Audio
– IT IS CLEAR THAT WITHIN THE GOVERNMENT OR RATHER THOSE WHO "PULL THE STRINGS" HAVE ABSOLUTELY KNOWINGLY AND DELIBERATELY CREATED AND UNLEASHED THIS SITUATION FOR REASONS ONLY THEY KNOW ,BUT IT IS VERY CLEAR THAT IT IS JUST A PART OR CONTINUING PIECE OF THERE GRAND NEFARIOUS AGENDA.
Watchdog organizations of diseases through the boards HAVE NO IDEA HOW TO DEAL WITH THIS.
“I can also assure you that this infectious agent is rather a slow , SLOW but very dangerous one, and everything will become a primary issue.
Doing some creative background work allows us to conclude the following:
The agent IS NOT COAL BASED – that is, it is a leap beyond anything we could currently be aware of.
The agent, when mapped at a macro level, has intelligence, binding within the host's DNA/RNA signals.
Due to the fact that the agent can remain dormant in humans – it is entirely possible that large numbers of the population are already carriers.
CASES OF MORGELLONS HAVE BEEN RECORDED ON EVERY CONTINENT EXCEPT THE ARCTIC.
The fact that there is evidence that the spores ** that produce this agent are being 'seeded' via aerosol sprays – which we already know happens on every continent – ​​of course changes the whole game. The Spanish Influenza, which was based on the current “bird flu” and coded H1N1, which killed millions at the end of World War I, apparently leaked from a US military laboratory.

• Then, there is the possibility that this is, in fact, wrong, and this new bio-agent came from somewhere else – that is, it is an out-of-this-world entity. ** Note that the link to chemtrail activity is unproven, more of an ongoing hypothesis. If you investigate the possible delivery mechanism, or “soup” through which the supposed [revealed] chemtrail activity is distributed, it is claimed that nano-wires are used as a kind of web base for the creation of Solar protection. This may have been the case, but the fact that the latest in bio-agents could be being distributed globally from the air to the population, moves us to a new level. Instead of making a binary statement that this delivery method is being used - we could assume that the spraying was happening for other reasons [one of many proposals], and that this bio-agent was added under the cover of a broader, global agreement on environmental protection. After all, no one is going to say no to this angle, and it seems, from the fact that tank spraying is happening on every continent, that this is the case.

THE CANISTECHEMICAL/AEROSOL PRODUCTION IS IN FACT, DONE UNDER A BLIND SYSTEM, SO THAT EACH COUNTRY/AREA CANNOT KNOW WHO IS RECEIVING THAT.
This was intended to prevent exactly the kind of nightmare scenario that is occurring, which we may be facing now: namely, one of the parts implementing additional movement systems, of a global environmental control system to the bio-warfare and genetic manipulation.

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Hey, I (19f) went to a university party last week, its a kind of party that starts a 10 p.m and ends with the morning, we go to dance, kiss and drink, it was open bar (those kind of partys are pretty commun in my country). Since I was planing to stay there until the end I wanted to enjoy the most, so I drank a good amount of alcohol, enough to get me completely drunk at the middle of the party but to be sober by the end of it, I figured out it was going to be ok because I planned it, and I was with my friends, I'm the shy kind, so I needed the alcohol to become more outgoing and relaxed. Anyway, until the middle everything was going wonderfully well as planned, I was dancing, talking to everyone, really having my time you know and I've kissed plenty of the people that I was willing to including a friend that we will call Kevin, Kevin and I have being friends for about a year and a half, not the closest type but he helped me in some difficult times and used to say he would aways be there for me, I used to trust him with all my heart because he had proved more than once that he was the reliable kind, I think it's important to address that we, in fact, had something physical a couple of times, but not anything in the romantic side, just two friends helping with each other's needs, I also kissed a guy that I've met at another party a week prior, let's call him Steve. At some point at the party I realized that my phone was missing and immediately started to panic, I've forgotten it in my back pocket and someone just toke it, I went running to the security and warned them about it but they said there was nothing that could be done since I didn't see the thief, by this time the friend that I went with to the party, we can call him Theo, found me and started to help me calm down along with Steve that had also found me, I was literally having a major panic attack because I had just finished paying for my phone and everything I had was on it. Theo than received a call from other friend of his telling that someone had drugged him, I told Theo that I was fine and he could go help his friends, after all it seemed more of a emergency than just a missing phone and a panic attack, with this I ended alone with Steve, I decided then that it would be more effective if I went to inside of the party and warn everyone that I knew about my phone and to search for me if they found it, so I did it, as I crossed the party more drunk and more desperate I became, I warned Kevin and his friends group and then I spotted my ex with some old friends of mine that I don't keep contact anymore, I truly didn't want to bother but at this point I was completely freaked and thought that the more people knew about my phone bigger were the chances of getting it back, so I approach them and told what happened and that I was getting really drunk, I also asked my ex to text my mom so she could track my phone (she had my location), they didn't pay much attention and a girl told me to recompose my self gave me a water ticket, since they weren't really open to my presence I left to get the water and sit outside of the party again, keep in mind that the whole time Steven were by my side and clearly bothered with me talking to everyone. Outside a girl and I boy, friends of Kevin I assume, started taking with me and asking what happened, I told the whole story again and my panic just increased alongside with it the alcohol finally hit with all its strenght and I realized I couldn't remember where I lived or even my mom's number, I realized that I was completely waisted, without a way to communicate, alone, surrounded by completely strangers, one of then, Steven, even made it clear earlier that he wanted to have intercourse with me, even though he had being respectful with me (even if clearly bothered) I was still afraid, after all I was still a girl alone in a party. I decided then that I should ask Kevin for help since I've known him for what a consider a long time and I truly trusted him, I ignored Steven protests and went back to the party search for Kevin, when I found him he was with a girl but I figured a friend in clearly danger would be more important than kissing a stranger, so I asked him if he was drugged or drunk, he said no to both questions, so I asked if he was sober enough with he said he was, I looked around and saw that Steven was still behind me so I grabbed Kevin's arm and started to pull him somewhere else and said that I really needed his help (keep in mind that he knew about my phone and I was with a look of completely terror in my face) Kevin them pushed me with the arm that I was grabbing him, not strong enough to hurt me, but enough to scare me (I am a really petit girl and Kevin is really strong and almost 6'7) and said that he didn't want me, that was my breaking point, I started crying and shaking as he walked away from me, a girl that I suppose was friends with him saw this and came to my help, I explained to her about my phone, that I was drunk and scared and that Kevin had helped me in situations like this before, she nodded and went to talk to him because she believed that he misunderstood me, but when she came back she said that he told her that was just a "crazy girl that he never saw in his life", oh man those words were like knives in my heart, and are still hunting me, I were helpless. I did the only thing that I could think at the time, asked the girl to stay by my side since I didn't want to be alone with Steven and went to talk with my ex and my old friend group, I pushed a girl aside and told her everything and how scared I was, she immediately took me to the other people and said they needed to help me, again, nobody gave that much of importance, I said that my ex knew were I live and maybe could help, so they called him and he asked if I still lived in ***** , I said I couldn't remember because I was too drunk and they started to get inpatient and said they would call my mom to come and get me than, I freaked out (my mom let me do anything since I don't die or don't bother her) and started asking them to please not call her, cause I knew it would just cause more problems and she probably wouldn't even help, other girls in the group said that then they could do nothing to me, nobody disagreed with her and they kind just let it aside, Steven just said to me go with him and nobody protested so I left, feeling that I didn't really had a choice. Outside of the party Steven's friends were still waiting for us, I returned and started crying again, feeling abandoned and betrayed, they tried their best to get me to say were I lived but soon they saw that I couldn't talk anything that would make sense in that moment, so they calmed me down and stayed with me till I was sober enough, the girl that I've just met was a Saint, she got really protective and didn't let any man come close to me, when I was finally able to inform my address they (Steven, this girl and the other friend of his) took me home, it was around 4 a.m when I got home, I was a mess, all the feelings came like a wave, I cried myself to sleep and since then I've been a disaster, sure I'm that I lost my phone but what really hurts me is what happened after this, I can't wrap my mind that completely strangers were more worried about me than my friends and people who once had a important role in my life, matter of fact I kind understand my ex and his friends, I was a really shitty girlfriend back then, even though they having a reason don't make it hurt less, but Kevin?? I've never done anything bad to him, never being anything but a good friend, why would he do thus to me? I just want to text him and ask why, sometimes I want to course him because I'm so mad, he didn't even bother to write a text asking if I was okay the next day, nothing, he just keeps seeing everything I post in silence, I feel so hurt, so depressed, so angry, I feel that I'm on my lowest since everything.
Ps: just wanted to say sorry for my bad grammar, English isn't my first language and I'm literally shaking while I write this, I'm truly a mess

Do you think we'll look back on the Kendrick Lamar vs Drake beef and see it as marking the end of an era?
Hip-hop/rap being on the decline has been a frequent topic of discussion for the past few years.
Could the defeat of commercial rap's figurehead finally signify an end to hip-hop's reign over the mainstream?
Will the triumph of the conscious-adjacent poet laureate artist signify a resurgence of more conscious underground hip-hop?
The death of XXXtentacion marked the end of the Soundcloud Rap era. Imo Drake's defeat feels like a continuation of that. Trending away from the shallow and blatant hedonism and violence that has dominated much of the mainstream—not for any puritanical reason, but simply due to over-saturation and fatigue.
If hip-hop as a genre begins to trend towards its more conscious and artistic roots, it will also naturally fall from the mainstream.
Of course, a part of me sees this as wholly unrealistic. On the other hand, artists like Earl Sweatshirt, MIKE, and Armand Hammer are making some great shit and picking up significant traction.
And I feel like there's only so many songs I can listen to about fucking your bitch in the throat, killing people, and buying expensive shit before getting bored and craving a little more substance. Also, it seems like people are becoming less misogynistic on the whole, and some of the things commonly said in rap just seem to come off grosser as time goes on. Maybe there's something in the air, people might be over that. Just something I'm picking up on
Don't get me wrong, I'm not trying to sound like an oldhead boomer complaining about mUsIc ThEsE dAyS; there will always be a space and demand for hedonistic bangers. But on the whole, I can't really imagine that these current trends stay exactly the same for another decade or two. At some point, what's popular is going to change. What marks that, and what will it shift to?
Surprisingly, there seems to be a major surge in the popularity of country music. In a way, this was prophesied by the popularity of Corridos Tumbados—artists like Peso Pluma somehow making acoustic music popular among the youth.
It makes sense—we're still in post-pandemic recovery mode in an increasingly isolated world. We yearn for a sense of togetherness and unity. We want tangible, real world connections, and country music's sing-along tracks with real physical instruments taps directly into that need. But ngl, I'm not really rocking w country music. So I hope hip-hop figures out its own answer to that.
Tracks like Kanye's Carnival, with its stadium-anthem chorus feeds into that need for togetherness (s/o Professor Skye for that). The same phenomenon can be observed in places like Japan, where Yuki Chiba's Team Tomodachi is going mega viral (the title means "team friends," it's a banger about hanging out w your buddies lol). Most recently, Kendrick Lamar's "Not Like Us" seems to unify not only the West Coast, but hip-hop fans in general.
All this is to say that there do seem to be certain emerging trends, in conjunction with certain needs people are yearning to fulfill. The latest rap beef between Kendrick and Drake certainly fed into this desire for togetherness, but it also feels like some kind of major shift.
Do you think it will mark the end of an era in hip-hop, do you think it will have little-to-no impact, or do you think it will lead to something else entirely?

Hey everyone. For one reason or another I've been away from OpenTTD for a couple of years and I totally missed the release of AXIS. I've always loved FIRS, but was slightly disappointed by FIRS 4. AXIS seems to have all the complexity I'm looking for, but after updating all my GRFs, trying to remember which presets I used for which industry sets and why, then going through BaNaNaS looking at all the juicy new GRFs, I've found myself a little lost. Rather than experimenting for hours with all the different sets of trains, tracks, vehicles, etc too see what works, I was wondering if anyone here could share their wisdom?
What I'd ideally like to play with is a realistic UK-centric GRF list based around AXIS 2.2. I played FIRS 4 with Timberwolf vehicles, roads and tracks, av8 planes, SHARK ships, ISR stations, depots and objects, UK Town Set, Total Bridge Renewal, etc, but should I switch to UKRS2? Are there enough 32bpp GRFs to do a total replacement and still have AXIS look right? Are the industries in AXIS distinct enough from each other? I use JGR by the way, should I stop and switch to vanilla version 14.1 instead? JGR seems to be using 14 beta 3, will that cause any compatibility issues with the latest GRFs?
Has anyone here got a UK GRF preset that they're happy with and would be willing to share, or should I just accept that the CZTR sets are the best-looking and forget this obsession with the UK?

Matilda the Armadillo, Dark Egg Legionnaire

"Get away--from my--BROTHER!!"

When Matilda was just an infant, her village was invaded by Robotnik's forces. Her brother Mighty tried to protect her by making a pact with Mammoth Mogul, but he would soon be exiled and she would soon lose her own parents. She would soon be placed in an orphanage before being transformed into a mindless robot slave. After being freed, however, she had nowhere to go which led her to Beauregard Rabbot where she would be modified with robotic arms and become part of Eggman's forces as a Dark Legionnaire. As a result of her trauma, Matilda feels little emotion but the loyalty she has for Beauregard, and later love for her formerly long-lost brother Mighty and newly-found adoptive brother Ray.

Source Key

• Sonic the Hedgehog (1993) (StH#X)
• Sonic Universe (SU#X)

Hover over a feat to see its source.

• Carries a very large crate one-handed without visible effort.
• (Possibly) leans out of the way of Sonic’s punch while piloting a hovercraft.
• Stops Ray in his tracks by grabbing his scarf.
• Knocked over but uninjured by Jolt who proceeds to down Ray.
• Catches Jolt by surprise and hits him hard enough for him to fly into the distance. For reference, Jolt in the same issue runs as fast as a jeep and earlier demonstrates the ability to leave afterimages.
• Reacts to and punches a tank shell out of the air, but the effort knocks her out and injures her.

I'm looking to buy my first plane on market place after spending 30+ minutes setting up an account 🥲
Which plane would you recommend going for first? I'm Tier III in US tree but happy to jump to any other tree if there's a good cheap jet or prop plane in any other trees.
Also mainly play Air RB and sometimes Air AB.
Cheers for the help legends.

Kingmaker: A Game of Thrones in Brevoy
System: Dungeons & Dragons 5e
Format: Discord Text pbp
No. of Players: 5
[Notice: This is a 18+ campaign. It contains NSFW and adult elements.]

The same message has appeared on bounty boards and in taverns across Brevoy.
HEROES WANTED!
Those able of body and brave of heart are invited to the mansion of Lady Jamandi Aldori, Swordlord & Chief Defender of Restov, to embark on an expedition into the Stolen Lands.
Bandits and monsters have been allowed to infest our southern borders for far too long. Those selected will be divided into groups and given a charter to reopen old trade routes and secure the surrounding territory. The brave-hearted mercenaries and adventurers who choose to take on this quest will face unimaginable danger, but whomever succeeds shall receive honor, glory, and a noble title granting dominion over the lands they've claimed to pass on their children.

For generations, the Stolen Lands have spanned the southern border of Brevoy. Many attempts have been made to settle them, but to date, none have succeeded, making these 35,000 square miles of wilderness the largest swath of unclaimed land in the entire region. As tensions mount in Brevoy, one ambitious swordlord hopes to change that fact.
Lady Jamandi Aldori is issuing charters to several groups of adventurers, sending them south into the Stolen Lands to reopen old trade routes and defeat the bandits and monsters who have made them too dangerous to use. By sending free agents south, this swordlord of Rostland hopes to alter the political balance of power in Brevoy without sacrificing her own position or forces. Yet, as with most complex and brilliant plans, the future holds plenty of opportunities for disaster.

"When you play the game of thrones, you win or you die. There is no middle ground."

Hello! I'm a longtime DM and a huge fan of A Song of Ice & Fire. I'm looking to run a campaign that's heavily influenced by the series I hold so dear. If you're a casual fan who's only seen Game of Thrones or House or the Dragon, you're more than welcome! The main things I'm looking for here are quality roleplay and enthusiasm. If you've got that, I promise we can have a good game together.

"Winter is coming."

Kingmaker is an Adventure Path originally designed by Paizo for the Pathfinder RPG but has been converted to be compatible with the 5th edition D&D ruleset. I'm taking so serious liberties with it but the bones of the adventure remain the same. Kingmaker is a high fantasy campaign that thrusts the player characters into a unique situation of building their own kingdom and carving out their own niche upon the world. You may be a scion of a lesser branch of the great families with ambitions that can't be hindered by your place in the succession. You could be a commoner whose witnessed your humble community suffer at the hands of the lawless bandits pillaging the countryside and will take on this great challenge so your family can live free. Perhaps you are a bastard child of a powerful figure and now seek to carve out your own kingdom knowing that you stand to inherit nothing you don't build for yourself.

"When the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies but the pack survives."

I've got a couple of expectations for the characters that will be brought into the adventure. I am looking for characters with reasons to have a desire to venture into hostile territory and work as a team to build a kingdom. Good or evil doesn't matter but chaos doesn't serve to further the group. So, no chaotic alignment will be allowed. This is not the campaign for chaotic evil players looking to betray the other players, loners or free-spirited vagabonds.

"Backstabbing doesn't prepare you for a fight, and that's all the realm is now. Backstabbing and scheming and arse-licking and money-grubbing."

Political intrigue is a pillar of the series inspiring this and a big part of my plans, but in order to keep charisma from being everyone's primary stat I will be using a reputation system to even the playing field when dealing with individuals of consequence. In certain circles, a knight renowned for their honor and bravery is going to be as respected and influential, if not more, as a traditional face will be anywhere else. I think this will do a lot to allow the party to have a proper balance of classes with no one feeling handicapped in the social aspects.

"Let me give you some counsel, bastard. Never forget what you are, for surely the world will not. Make it your strength. Then it can never be your weakness. Armor yourself in it, and it will never be used to hurt you."

You may have noticed the tag, and the catch is: This is an adult only game, featuring erotic roleplay where characters can engage in sexual activities with no fade-to-black, etc. Lewd events, plans, consequences, and more are all on the table in this campaign. If you've watched either of the shows on HBO, this probably isn't much of a surprise to you. I'd like to be clear that just because it's on the table, this game will not become a raunchy, never ending orgy. There is usually meaning behind how sex is used in the series and that's what I'm looking to emulate.

"Distrusting me was the wisest thing you've done since you climbed off your horse."

GRRM often uses the intimate scenes to peel back layers to a character. Sometimes to paint them in a different light, other times to drive them further into the role he wishes to present them to the reader in. Some examples would be Tyrion's lingering trauma and emotional vulnerability, driving him to purchase the closest thing he believes he can have to real love being a way to earn Tyrion the reader's sympathy. Contrast that with Cersei's narcissism making her seek lovers, she can view as idealized male versions of herself, the only match worthy in her deranged mind. Or how Littlefinger justifies his pitiless ambition, being something forced on him by a cruel and unfair world that's kept him and his one true love apart by no fault of their own.

"Love is the death of duty."

PCs are encouraged to find and nurture romantic relationships with other characters or NPCs. Weddings are considered the truest way of sealing alliances, after all. Beyond the love lives of the characters, there are many other scenarios. A corrupt noble might be willing to trade information to carry on an affair on their spouse. A sex scandal could undermine the legitimacy of a claimant in a contested succession. Barbarian raiders may attack a village under your protection and take the women as slaves. Spies might attempt to seduce you in order to secure a position in your court and feed information to a rival house. A neighboring tyrant might earn your ire when reports of him abusing his authority to take advantage of an unfortunate captive or innocent reaches you.

"The things I do for love."

Because I'm sure it needs to be said. ERP will not be my main focus while running this; it may or may not even happen on my end. I'll already be responsible for the story, so trying to match everyone's taste in smut on top of that might be biting off more than I can chew. That being said, I'm all for your characters sharing a tent during the long weeks of adventuring because I think a good amount of sexual tension adds player investment and fun to the story. While I'm not promising anything, I'm not firmly ruling things out on my end either. You all could charm your way into a few NPC's pants to loosen a secret from their lips or secure a favor down the road. You might decide to blow your coins on prostitutes while visiting the capital. If the scene serves the story (or I'm just feeling horny that day), I may indulge you! Just wanted to make sure you're aware that just because I am open to ERP does not mean I'm making a commitment to provide it to everyone, expecting all players to take part in it, or putting it ahead of the actual campaign in any capacity.

"There are no other men like me. Only me."

If it's not apparent by now, I'm very serious about making this game something great. I love the ASOIAF books; I love the adventure path; I love the cRPG, and I desperately want to do justice by all three influences. Expect a bit of gritty realism and tragedy in this story. Your triumphs will be hard fought. Your holdings will face constant peril. Your enemies will always be lurking with their knives out for the moment you drop your guard. However, the rewards for your success in this campaign are unlike any other. I truly don't think there is another adventure that matches the sense of accomplishment that comes from taking a stretch of hostile wilderness and carving your own thriving kingdom from it.

"Power resides where men believe it resides. No more and no less."

A little bit on my approach to DMing this. I plan on running this very differently from traditional D&D 5e. Combat is obviously what the system does the most of, but if you've ever watched GoT or HotD you'd see the main characters don't draw their swords all that often. In fact, a lot of the main cast never have their own fight scenes. I like this less is more approach a great deal and think it'll bring a lot to the pbp experience. Outside of encounters with a named enemy, I won't be using initiative. This is so the RP isn't held up by any individual's schedule. I'll also be utilizing the minion rule from 4e where all the monsters have 1 HP. Their AC remains the same, so if you have trouble hitting them, the danger remains but low damage rolls won't cause encounters to drag unnecessarily.

"Hard truths cut both ways."

Matching the tone of the books this campaign is inspired by will take collaboration. I want the heroes of this story to have lives that involve more than their swords and spells. If you’re just looking to roleplay a non-stop fantasy porno, this isn't the game for you. But if you are interested in writing a character who is enriched by getting to explore their desires, be influenced by lusts, make compromises out of attraction, and maybe even experience heartbreak if their trust and affection wound up in the wrong hands-- then you're exactly who I'm looking for!

"If I do not press my claim, my claim will be forgotten. I will not become a page in someone else's history book."

If you can't be bothered to respond to the RP for days at a time, I'm going to kick you out! Plain and simple. I won't be reaching out. I won't be constantly giving you reminders. There will be no stoppages for you to get your shit together. It's a big world, and I'm not going to hesitate to find someone else interested in actively participating in the adventure if you go ghost. I understand that IRL always comes first, so if you have the common courtesy to reach out and explain your circumstances that prevent you from putting together a couple paragraphs every day, then I will still be replacing you, but I will move your character out of the story for you to pick up later on when you can. If you can't manage to let me know what's going on, then I'm just going to forget about you and move right along so everyone else can continue the fun!

"I have a tender spot in my heart for cripples, bastards and broken things."

My plan to be pretty rules-light with this campaign since while I run a lot of D&D, I haven't run that many text games. I'm still confident I can handle it, but I'm just throwing it out there in case there are bumps along the road. If you're more experienced in the pbp arena than I am, I'd greatly appreciate your advice as things are coming together. We will be using dndbeyond and the standard discord bots. In my experience, these games work a lot better when the story is put above mechanics, so keeping things to PHB races and PHB/XgtE subclasses. If you're looking to do some awesome game-breaker build you've theory crafted for months. This may not be the game for it. I don't plan on meticulously tracking things to make sure you get your sentinel feat trigger each turn.

“Oh, my sweet summer child, what do you know about fear?”

Alright! That's my pitch. Sorry you had to read all that, but hopefully you're still interested and can see I don't have a problem handing out paragraphs, so this game ought to be in good hands. I look forward to reading your applications and will be leaving the form open for the next week while I work on the discord server.

“The night is dark and full of terrors.”

So that was a lot, but any of you who are still interested please don't hesitate! I'll be happy to have you and look forward to playing with you. As well as hopefully some fun debates about who we're rooting for in HotD season 2 as it airs.

“There is only one god, and His name is Death. And there is only one thing we say to Death: 'not today'.”

The application link is down below! I'm going to leave it open for a week so folks don't miss out. I will be checking it regularly, so if I find a bunch of folks I like over the first couple days, I'll reach out to them, but I'm sure we all know how these sorts of games go. People may drop out or prove unreachable, so even if you're not someone who hears back from me immediately, we might be writing together soon!
The Stolen Lands await you!
https://forms.gle/bnmHsUt2Qmq5D1jK8

This may be just the tracks I am taking--AI, enterprise design thinking, and Garage--but most of the presenters are British and if not British then they're some sort of Western European. I'm not sure if the learning content is all via IBV--and if so, is IBV European?
Also, many of them appear--to be charitable, as though they've been on perhaps some long plane flights (with cocktails) and are suffering jet lag? Or have illnesses which degenerate the motor skills? I'm just saying.