I’m going to send a letter, too. So I don’t really expect a poem to move mountains too much, but I do expect my letter to.
Let me know what you think of the poem, though!
My dearest,
I’m angry. I’m angry at myself. I just can’t believe that you’re gone. It’s my fault. I did this. Baby - you need to know - you’re the best thing that ever happened to me, yet, I let you walk away. Believe me when I say this - I had the power to make you stay. But, I let you go. Allow me to explain. All I had to do was cherish you. All that was needed was for me to fulfill my manly responsibility, to provide for you, to build a life with you. It wouldn’t have hurt either for me to take the clothes out the dryer, even once in a while. These things aren’t lost upon me. They set in motion a chain of events that ended with you stepping foot on that plane, that led us to this day. And, now, here I am and there you are, we’re left with a wedge between us. I can only hope at this point the only thing separating us are these two states, that’s a hurdle I can jump over. I swear, I want to transform earth's tectonic plates, to bring you closer, I want to move at the speed of light to make things right. I pray it’s not too late, that this new life hasn’t set in yet, that the painting hasn’t dried on the canvas. I still have several broad strokes I need to make. My darling, I promise you, I still have so much love to give you.

Greetings, fellow travellers of the enchanting world of Sky: Children of the Light! ✨
Looking for a vibrant and engaging community to connect with other players, participate in fun events, and share your love for the game? Look no further! We invite you to join our Sky: Children of the Light Community Discord server, where the light of friendship shines brightly.
Our discord server just started and was born from a group that started doing eden together weekly. Those were really fun times and thought why not expand that!
🌟 What We Offer:

• Exciting weekly events, Such as Eden, candle/WL runs and way more upcoming!
• Creative roles like "Event Luminary" and "Social Lightbringer" for members to shape the community.
• Friendly and inclusive atmosphere where all players of all ages are welcomed and celebrated.
• Engaging discussions, game tips, and a place to share your adventures with like-minded Sky travelers.
• A fun time x3

Come be a part of our growing community and embark on new adventures together! Simply click the link below to join us in spreading the light and joy of Sky: Children of the Light.
Join us here: https://discord.gg/hRRe9Hm5Nx
See you among the stars!✨

A bright light at the end of the tunnel i believe she keeps repeating and with other text. Simple drum loop and a rising synth that keeps repeating

ALL CHARACTERS AND PARTNERS ARE 18+.
Hi there! I’m 26, central US timezone, and female! Title is self explanatory. Looking for roleplay between a female F1 driver and her team principal. Also willing to switch your character’s role to mechanic, press officer, etc. Looking for lots of drama and romance. Drama between the media, the team, and fans as their relationship grows more and more off track and gets exposed to the real world.
THIS IS SAFE FOR WORK ONLY.
Message me with your age, timezone (US Timezones or similar are preferred), and a sample of your writing!
Partner requirements: must be 23-35 - Must play male (IRL gender doesn’t matter)- write in third person - at least two paragraphs - I only write on Discord - must be able to post once a day to every other day. Communication is key, please let me know if you’re going to be busy for longer than a day or two or if you’re no longer interested. NO AI ART OR WRITING.
All characters are 18+
Below is a sample starter if you want to use it for your sample as well! Also included after it is my character description. Team can also change!
This was possibly the most nerve wracking qualifying morning that Eliza had ever faced before. Media day and practices had already been quite overwhelming. Every news outlet wanted to talk to her, about her, and then there were all the brand and team promotions on top of what she was actually there to do. Practices had gone alright, maybe not the best, but they certainly weren’t the worst. Yet Eliza knew she could do better. Maybe it was the nerves or how exhausted she’s been feeling lately, but she needed to shake it off. People were already starting to doubt her and question the team for her joining. She needed to prove herself in this qualifying session and the race.
But first was more time with the media. It was a long morning of getting herself all dolled up. She hadn’t shown up to the paddock wearing anything but something fashionable. She was treating her entrances like a runway, similar to Lewis Hamilton, but she tried to keep it within team colors always wearing something red or with the logo. This time she opted for an all black outfit with some red and gold jewelry pieces. Her hair was straighter and her makeup done lightly, a hint of a pastel papaya colored her eyes.
Once she was done, it was hopping into her car and being driven to the track by a good friend. Alexa happily signed things once she got out of the car and made her way into the paddock, quickly scanning her badge and smiling to all the photographers that snapped her entrance as she made her way to the Ferrari hospitality for her schedule.
Character Description
Name: Eliza Conners
Occupation: Driver for Ferrari
Age: 21
Date of birth: April 4th
Gender: Female
Sexuality: Straight
Race: British/Swedish
Physical Appearence
Height: 5’3"
Weight: 115 lbs
Eye colour: Ocean blue
Skin colour: Fai Warm Alabaster
Hair colour: blonde
Hair style: long, mid back
Piercings: basic ears
Spoiled, dramatic, sassy, used to getting what she wants, loves all the attention being on her, hosts a mean dinner party, gives ‘The Man’ by Taylor Swift energy
Personal Sponsors: Victoria’s Secret, Dior, Chanel, Charolette Tilbury

Link for all the chapters available here: Engines of Arachnea on Royal Road
Having said his piece, Rene had expected the woman to accept her role as a prisoner of the Fleet. But no sooner had he taken his knee of her back than she was at him again, rolling over and cursing as she tried to spit him on her claws. Training kicked in and Rene applied the wrestling component of his hand-to-hand combat course. He secured underhooks with his arms, locking them together with his hands and hugging her tight from behind. Zildiz bucked and twisted around in a futile attempt to make room for her blades, even managing to get one of her knees beneath her and push off the ground. Rene allowed her to gain her feet, cunningly using the opening to slip the loop of his encircling arms around her waist. Now in complete control of her center of gravity, Rene swung his leg out and arched his back, heaving her up and over like a sack of turnips in a textbook suplex. A fraction of a second before he smashed the top of her skull into the hard ground, he remembered that he was supposed to keep prisoners alive and preferably not in a vegetative state, and so he cushioned the fall with his own body, falling on his side to increase surface area and dissipate the force.
Zildiz was caught totally by surprise. Unlike Rene she had neglected to tuck in her chin before the moment of impact, a vital detail which was one of the first things a recruit was taught to do on the mats.
“Oof!” she said as all the breath slammed out of her by the throw. Rene felt her body go limp as her dazed senses tried to adjust to the violent change of orientation. He took advantage of this moment of weakness and looped his legs around her body, locking his ankles together to form a full body triangle. His left forearm punched up and took her neck in a rear naked choke, a suffocating vise formed by the insides of his elbow crushing her windpipe and carotid arteries.
“I warned you,” he told her. His choking hand grabbed the inside of his other elbow, right forearm sneaking behind her neck and under his armpit, tightening the garrote even further.
“Had enough?”
“Hrrnnkk…” Zildiz choked. She lifted an arm and slid back the blade until it was the length of a finger, deliberately giving Rene the universal gesture to go and fornicate with himself, before sheathing the claw entirely and aiming her fist at him over her shoulder.
Rene ducked as the blade shot out again, only just avoiding it going through his eye socket and into his brain. As it was, it only nicked his temple, sending warm lines of blood trickling down his visor. Rene hugged her even tighter, constricting the chokehold until he heard her breathing reduced to an agonized wheeze. He throttled her until she stopped moving, her struggles weakening until she went completely lax. Then he held the choke for exactly three seconds longer, counting carefully to avoid giving her lasting brain damage. He let go and was relieved to hear her snoring faintly. Gently rolling her onto her back so she didn’t suffocate in the dirt, Rene cast about for a means to secure his prisoner. He had only a few seconds before she regained consciousness. Quickly he cut some vines from the surrounding trees and knotted them into a crude rope. He flipped her back over again and tied her hands at the wrists and elbows. He had no illusions that it would hold her for long. He tied her wings together at their bases for good measure. She had two sets of them, but the larger pair was missing one of its partners that had been torn off at the socket to reveal a gaping wound. They were wondrously tough membranes considering how thin and flexible they were, as sturdy as ultrapod leather. Rene looked over his work and loosened it a bit so as not to cut off the circulation in her arms. It wasn’t bad for something done on the fly. Then again, he’d been playing this whole thing by ear ever since the ambush that had cut his unit to pieces. Ye gods, but that whole experience felt like a lifetime ago. He had not expected to ever use that component of his hand-to-hand training designed for fighting human opponents. Of course, he’d helped put down a fair share of civil unrest in his time, but even during the worst of the food riots in Mound Ulysses he’d never so much as given a person a light shove. The civilians knew better than to antagonize a battalion of the Fleet’s finest over something as routine and reoccurring as a government rationing in the face of crop failure.
He felt quite bad about having to roughhouse the woman, that is, until she sat up awake and glowered hatefully at him, coughing and retching.
“Don’t,” he pleaded with her in exasperation as she gave him the old stink eye, “I don’t want to fight you again.”
“Why?” she spat defiantly, “Afraid you’d lose?”
“Uh huh,” Rene grunted, amused and even a little impressed by her spunk. She couldn’t have weighed more than sixty kilos soaking wet and was at least half a foot shorter than him even with that exomorph of hers, but this woman was all fight and no quit. She would have to be, living on the surface world and facing these abominations day after day. Rene looked at the dismembered corpses of the black-furred devils and had a sudden jolt of inspiration. As Zildiz tested the strength of her restraints Rene went over to the monster he had chopped to bits and poked the misshapen hump on its back, which had excreted thick ribbons of silk at the moment of death. Feeling more than a little squeamish, Rene pulled on the threads of silk. He had only meant to collect two or three meters of the material, but more and more of the stuff kept unwinding out its glands like a handkerchief from a magician’s pocket. Eventually his hands became enmeshed in the horrid stuff and he had to struggle like the dickens to unstick himself and scrape it off onto a bush where it stuck like a lumpy hammock. Remembering how his enemy had plugged the stab wound in its gut, Rene snapped off a twig and curled it into the white mess like those vendors at the fairs did with candy cloud treats, ending up with a spool of silk. He applied it to the cut on his temple by winding it around his head like a bandage, and was gratified when it stopped the bleeding almost immediately. He heard the rustle of dead leaves and turned around to find Zildiz furtively attempting to sidle away from him.
“Don’t even try it,” he told her, “Or I’ll run you down and knock you senseless. I’m taking you back to civilization. The Fleet needs to know what it’s up against out here, and you’re a veritable trove of information.”
Zildiz squatted back down and stared at him, simmering with resentment. Rene shook his head and continued his work, moving on to the monster that had been the first to die at the woman’s hands. Cutting open its hump, Rene was rewarded with a dense lump of thread still packed inside its spinneret. He took another twig and spooled it in, then wrapped the bundle of silk in a large leaf.
A leg twitched of its own accord. Rene nearly dropped the bundle as he sprang back, sword upraised. The devil’s limbs began doing a tap dance and Rene relaxed a bit, recognizing it as the onset of rigor mortis. The side of its face was split open and hanging loosely by a strap of flesh. Struck by a nagging suspicion, Rene stooped down and peeled off the segments of its head, holding the edge of his sword against its neck to decapitate it in the event that it proved too lively for his liking.
The musculature and armor tore away just like it had with Zildiz’s helm, and for the second time that night he found himself staring into the face of another living human being. Only this time it was a man whose face was utterly disfigured, a perversion of the basic form. In the place of his lower jaw were fingerlike protrusions of gummy tissue and exposed nerve endings. His nose cartilage was likewise missing, leaving only a pair of holes dribbling with snot. The man blinked, and glassy eyes with almost no whites at their edges fixed Rene in their gaze.
“Kill…me…” the man whispered.
Rene began to shake uncontrollably, wiping a trembling hand across his mouth as he was forced to consider the carnage he’d just wrought in a new and horrifying light. These weren’t three dead monsters littering the jungle floor; these were three dead men, and some of them he had killed himself.
“Kill me!” the man begged him. He was young, barely Rene’s age, his smooth skin untroubled by the wrinkles of age and worry. He had clear brown pupils and dark, expressive brows. If it weren’t for all the rest of him, Rene might’ve mistaken him for a fresh-faced recruit at the academy, or a paperboy climbing up the terraced apartments of inner hive to deliver news of the Fleet’s latest victory.
On unsteady legs Rene staggered back to Zildiz’s side and away from the awful truth he had uncovered.
“Something the matter?” Zildiz asked in a gleeful tone, “Feeling a little worse for wear, are we?”
“Shut it,” Rene said distantly. He dragged Zildiz to her feet and began winding the silk around her wrists, layering them over thick and tying them off with a simple knot. He kept the vines on her for added insurance and told her to start walking.
“Where to?” she demanded.
“I’m not feeding you to my children, if that’s what you’re asking,” he muttered, “I don’t have any to begin with, and even if I did, I sure as hell wouldn’t raise them to be cannibals.”
Zildiz didn’t move, so Rene grabbed her and frog marched her away. He had no real destination in mind—he just had to get away from this place and the bodies he’d made. Zildiz rounded on Rene, saying:
“Aren’t you going to deal with him? I only severed his neural connection to paralyze his exomorph. He’s still very much alive.”
“No!” Rene yelled, “That’s not how I—how people do things. Almighty ancestors, is that so hard for you to grasp?”
“Yes,” Zildiz replied quite candidly.
“He’s a living, breathing human being. I don’t know if you’ve heard, but those are pretty rare on Arachnea and worth keeping around.”
“No. He is a Leaper. After extracting your gilt helix, he and his packmates would devoured you right then and there.”
“That’s why you saved me, isn’t it? So they couldn’t obtain this shiny helix thing?”
Zildiz ignored his question, continuing:
“If you leave him here, at best he will die of exposure. At worst, his tribe will come looking for him, and if they find him, they will run us down and kill us anyway.”
Rene bit his lip. She spoke the truth and they both knew it. But after all this world had already taken from him, there remained one thing which he refused to part with. And Rene knew that if he gave in now and took the expedient option—the sensible option—he would be surrendering it forever.
“Sorry,” he said finally, “That’s against the rules.”
He dragged Zildiz over to the Leaper and spoke to him, saying:
“I won’t kill you. I’m not about to eat you either, so you can stop begging for a quick death. As long as you tell me what I want to know, we’ll leave you here and go our separate ways. I might even patch your wounds if you’re cooperative. Does that strike you as a fair bargain?”
The Leaper met this pronouncement with a look of utter perplexity that mirrored the one on Zildiz’s face.
“I’ll take that silence as a yes,” Rene said impatiently, “You’ll begin by telling me your name.”
“Kryptusshh,” the Leaper said slowly, as if not daring to hope.
“Very good. Are there any more of your people out there, Kryptus?”
“Why sshhould I trusht you? I would only be dooming more of my kindred, and there issh no certainty you would not kill me afterwardssh.”
“It’s a chance you have to take,” Rene shrugged, “Either that, or I’ll let this woman do as she pleases with you. And just between you and me,” he said in a loud stage whisper, “She doesn’t seem all that fond of your sort.”
Zildiz and Kryptus locked eyes with each other. Rene could almost feel the waves of hatred coming off her as she bristled, every tendon in her body tensing expectantly. Kryptus must have seen something he didn’t like, for he looked away and said:
“I am a warrior of the Weeping Vipersh. We are roughly eleven hundred sshtrong. One tenth of that number are bravesshh like me.”
“He lies,” Zildiz said, baring her teeth in a snarl, “That is less than half their true strength. He does not count the adolescents and the old loom-mothers, who are the deadliest of their kind.”
“Three hundred, then, if they are consshidered,” Kryptman quickly admitted, “Your pardon, merciful one.”
“I’ll excuse your forgetfulness just this once,” Rene warned, “But your memory better not fail you again.”
He questioned the Leaper closely. Kryptus claimed that only he and his pack had seen the safety pod’s crash landing, and that they had told no one else as they wished to claim the great prize all for themselves. The Weeping Vipers were the largest tribe in the rainforest and were always looking for an advantage over their numerous and belligerent neighbors. Apparently Kryptus had hoped to gain a modicum of the Divine Engine’s power by extracting something called a ‘gilt helix’ from Rene’s blood.
“Jussht one sample would have shatishfied uss,” Kryptus swore, “Then we would have taken you back to the Loom alive.”
“I’m sure nothing would’ve pleased you better,” Rene said wryly, all too cognizant of Zildiz’s earlier assumption that he planned to feed her to the Fleet’s youth.
Rene learned from Kryptus that the Divine Engine had ignited a blazing wildfire that was swiftly spreading north and west. The tribes would likely have noticed it by now, and would all be sending braves in a joint effort to douse the flames. For some reason all the Leapers felt collectively responsible for the wellbeing of the region, and could not allow it to come to harm for fear of dire repercussions.
“Last question. Is anyone going to come looking for you?”
“Not till the morning.”
“Good!” said Zildiz, breaking out of Rene’s grip and aiming a vicious kick at the side of the Leaper’s head. Rene barely caught her and yanked her back, shouting:
“Blood and thunder, woman! Is there nothing you won’t do to piss me off?”
“Are you insane? You cannot possibly mean to leave him alive!” the Gallivant hissed.
“That’s exactly what I’m going to do. Now come here!”
Rene took her by the elbow and pulled her forward, leaving Kryptus where he lay.
“You promished you would tend to my woundssh!” the Leaper cried after them.
“Don’t push your luck!” Rene said over his shoulder, “Anyone who follows us will meet the same end as your friends.”
He and his prisoner went tramping off into the night, Zildiz raging at him all the while.
“Fool! We will both come to regret that decision!”
“You’re probably right,” Rene had to agree.
“Then why did you do it?”
“For the same reason I’m letting you strut around and screech into my ear. What can I say? I’m a conversationalist.”
Link for all the chapters available here: Engines of Arachnea on Royal Road

Link for all the chapters available here: Engines of Arachnea on Royal Road
Deep in the groaning halls of sinew and bone he awaited his audience with the god. At a wave of his hand the ribs which held up the ceiling contracted, tendons shifting within the pink walls of the chamber as the jagged, calcareous spurs that composed the doorway sank back into the spongy masses of tissue, revealing a passage curving down and out of sight.
Menash stood before the yawning portal and considered eternity. This was no an idle thought: here in the Dawning Chamber, the concept was very real. His father, Yulan, had stood in this exact spot times beyond count. When he was struck down in his prime by the Night Weaver and her Leaper offspring, torn limb from limb as he fought to defend Chthonis from a raiding party, Menash’s uncle, Aqavarr, had carried his broken remains over that grinning threshold to join the hosts of the dead, never to return.
A hot and heavy exhalation rattled up out of the depths, wafting in the acrid scent of the bonding pools and the wet slithering sound of the rebirthing canals. Menash felt a crackle of static in the corners of his mind before the signal sharpened and he heard It whisper distinctly:
“Enter…”
The familiar dread crept its way up the small of his back, and he gave a little shiver. No matter how many times he had communed with the Vitalus, he’d never been able to shake the feeling of his utter insignificance. But he persevered, walking bravely down the slurping passage, past the rows of broad antechambers lining either side of the hallway. Each one held a slumbering shape immersed in a cryogenic bath, towering hulks of muscle encased in ribbed and riveted plates of chitin. No two were alike in size or physiology, but all seemed to emanate the same primeval aura of dread that tickled Menash’s fight-or-flight-instinct, skewing it very much towards the latter response. These were the Hollowores, soulless avatars of the Vitalus, each one a tool capable of eradicating an entire species. As Menash approached, one of the living weapons stirred to life. A pronged, anvil-shaped head emerged from the bath, umbilical feeder tubes detaching from its armored flanks as the rest of its bulk followed, its mauve exoskeleton as sleek and shiny as amethyst. The Hollowore extended legs as thick as grown pine trees and lifted itself above him, its pairs of crushing pincers dripping amniotic fluids as it herded him towards the central room.
Bundles of white gossamer filaments spread all across the floor, encircling steaming pools of pus and acid. He saw arms and legs, sensory organs and entire exoskeletons being knitted before his very eyes, the amino acid chains being stitched on a layer at a time, the weeping pus evidence of microphages fighting off possible infections as the Vitalus did Its work.
These were the next generation of exomorphs, yet to be assigned to their hosts. It was here that Vitalus constantly improved the only thing that could ensure the continued survival of Menash’s subspecies. Exomorphs were bonded to Gallivants at birth, the organisms supplying their hosts with the means to breathe an atmosphere they was never meant to endure, and the strength to fight in a world that was red in tooth and claw. They were as swift as the summer wind and could multiply their host’s muscular power by up to twelve times their natural output.
But for all their God-given might, Gallivants were still mortal. They could and often did perish in the endless struggle for existence that the Vitalus called the Great Game. But even in death they could still commit their essence to posterity, passing down their defining traits through the malleable genetic code of the gilt helix. It was the Vitalus’ greatest boon; through the gilt helix a single individual could become a progenitor of an entire generation, becoming at one stroke the father of whole nations and peoples.
One day he too would prove worthy of the honor that Yulan had earned with his life. But he was not alone in that ambition. Menash was annoyed to find the crimson-clad Vezda and the cowardly Racek waiting for him inside, standing next to a large ball of filaments that hung from a tonsil-like growth hanging from the walls.
This node pulsed, emitting a small storm of bioelectric activity, networks of fungi conveying commands in the form of oscillating voltages to their communities of symbiotic bacteria, the latter containing greigite mineral crystals aligned in the shape of electromagnetic coils. Other networks hidden in the walls modulated and amplified the signals, and the three Gallivants steeled themselves for the onrushing flood of information as the Vitalus tapped into their minds.
He was a candle before the raging heart of the thunderstorm. For an instant Menash touched a fraction of Its intelligence, the divisions of time and space rolling back as they joined the ocean of shared consciousness, becoming one with the living systems of Arachnea. From the tiniest aeroplankton floating above the waves of the golden coastlines, to the herds of ultrapods munching their way through swathes of trees in the savannahs. Menash felt himself pushing up out of the soil, longing and lusting and reaching for the sunlight with a trillion green fingers uncurling, alive with the furious movement of life.
But what was that flicker of orange to the east? That searing heat, that prickling pain spreading like a cancer down his side?
The Vitalus scooped them up and hurled them headlong into hell itself. A roaring wildfire was sweeping into the heart of the eastern rainforests. Menash tasted ash and ruin, felt pieces of himself wither and burn, his branches tongues of fire, wood cracking from the intense blaze, sap boiling instantaneously upon contact and rupturing, splitting him right down the grain. He fled in terror, running, slithering, digging, swimming, flying away in crazed panic from the walls of red death closing in on him. As his skin flaked off in clumps of charcoal he looked back and saw it towering over the treetops, the epicenter of this howling vortex of destruction: the grey behemoth. Its burnished metal hide gleamed like copper, reflecting the fury of the conflagration burning well into the night.
Menash pulled his mind away before it was lost forever in the storm of electric potentials. He saw Racek and Vezda swaying on their feet, breathing hard and fast.
“Heart of the World,” he managed to gasp, “What is your bidding?”
The Hollowore maneuvered itself until it was facing him directly. Tiny beady eyes fixed him in their blank gaze. The node emitted a blue pulse and the creature shuddered as it received the signal. It opened a maw powerful enough to chew boulders into gravel and rumbled:
“This one is the alpha which survived first contact with anomalous variable. It will tell Us what occurred, and from whence this threat emerged.”
“It came from the karst mountain range, where the yellowjacket Amit live,” Menash replied, “It was destroying the largest mound in that area, massacring its inhabitants. It brought the mountain down on them—we’ve never seen anything like it. Zildiz was the first on the scene. She warned us not to approach, and that it was dangerous, but some of us,” here he cast an angry look at Vezda, “Some of us went ahead and tried to scavenge from the bodies of the dying. Then the behemoth ignited the air and burned scores of us to cinders.”
“Irrational. Why did you do this?”
“W-we thought that you had spawned the grey behemoth,” Menash stammered, embarrassed to say the least, “That it was the newest addition to the Great Game, another species of ultrafauna that would help perfect Arachnea.”
“Not so. It was made by an evil far older than the All-In-One,” replied the Vitalus, “It is called a Divine Engine. In cycles past, this evil sought to undo this world and all that inhabit it. In that, it almost succeeded.”
Menash felt his blood run cold at those words.
“Is it the only one of its kind?” Racek piped up. Menash and Vezda both bristled at his interruption; subordinates were only supposed to speak when spoken to.
“There were several deployed here in Our infancy. We had thought them all destroyed in the War of Creation.”
“Your Munificence,” Racek went on, heedless of the venomous looks he was getting from the other two, “Most of us survived because Zildiz persuaded us to dive into the river. She saved all our lives! But as I washed up on the riverbank, I saw the behemoth casting a seedpod into the skies. I did not see where it landed, but it was travelling in a high arc due east. Is this the behemoth’s method of reproducing? If so, then how many offspring can it generate from this one seed?”
The Vitalus met his questions with a minute of silence. Menash had never known It to take so long to respond to a query, and felt another stab of unease in his gut. Unless he was imagining things, the Vitalus seemed genuinely disturbed by the scenario that Racek has raised, enough to convince Menash that the danger was far from hypothetical.
“That is a distant possibility,” It said somewhat cryptically, “Regardless, We cannot allow the Engine’s continued existence.”
“Then it must be destroyed,” Vezda said, her barbed tail eagerly perking up.
“We are not certain that it can be,” the Vitalus said, and Menash heard Racek audibly gulp at the admission.
“But Your Omniscience, you alone are the arbiter of growth and decay,” Vezda said in disbelief, “Surely you can unmake this monster as well?”
“Perhaps. The Divine Engines were built to withstand the extremes of temperature, gravity, atmospheric pressure, acidity and irradiation found on semi-inhabitable exoplanets. Worlds of bareness and desolation, glassed by thermonuclear bombardment or infested with alien microorganisms. In the wars of Our youth, the Betrayers used tungsten-alloy warheads fired from space platforms to crack their bulkheads. Not even Our vessels, the Hollowores, could damage them in any significant way. We will need time to gather the raw materials and fabricate the weapons needed to end this threat.”
“What must we do?” Menash asked.
“If this variable is not dealt with, it could upset the delicate balance We have sacrificed so much to achieve. Already the wildfire it has caused will release close to 400 million metric tons of carbon dioxide into the atmosphere and destroy 2.3 million acres of forest before Our countermeasures can stop it. Time is our limiting factor. If the Engine cannot be destroyed now, it must be restrained.”
“It hasn’t moved an inch since we last saw it,” Vezda said brightly, “Maybe it has already died?”
“Yes, and maybe your mother was a horka toad,” Racek said snidely. Vezda scowled and took a step towards him, then stopped as she remembered that she trod on hallowed ground.
“Not so. It has merely gone dormant. Having expended its fuel, it is now running on the bare minimum of its reserves. My children, you must ensure that it does not wake again. Establish a quarantine zone around the Engine and let none approach, on pain of death. The Leaper kindreds will secure the ground while the Gallivants patrol the skies.”
Vezda and Menash exchanged troubled looks. Nobody wanted Leapers establishing a foothold in what was essentially a buffer zone between their subspecies. Once allowed to settle in a habitat, it would not take long for them to adapt and become masters of their new territory. Ousting them would become a battle of attrition, and given the lower birthrates of Gallivants, it was not one they could long afford.
“Respectfully, we do not require assistance from our brother kindred,” Menash ventured, “We are more than capable of safeguarding the area ourselves.”
The node throbbed again, the bioelectric flashes taking on an angry purple hue. With a sound like the grinding of a millstone the Hollowore clashed its claws together impatiently. All three of the mortals took a hasty step back.
“The alpha will obey, or another will be found that can,” the Vitalus growled at them, “All subspecies will observe a general truce during this period. This is a temporary addition to the Great Game. Those that serve Us well shall be rewarded. We shall also enlist the aid of your terrestrial cousins, as well as the Cataphract clans to replenish the soil, and lone Saints who shall rove beyond the quarantine zone.”
Menash’s unease deepened. The Vitalus was bringing together four different kindreds, some of which killed each other on sight, in a move that reeked of desperation. The kindreds had worked together before, of course, on complex projects such as altering rainfall patterns and husbanding struggling species, but never so many at once. This was bound to end in bloodshed.
“Those that break the truce shall be chemically neutered, and their gilt helix purged from the existing gene pool,” the Vitalus continued, “You will maintain this quarantine until We have dealt with the Engine.”
“It is understood!” Menash and Vezda said at once.
“But what about Zildiz?” Racek blurted out, again risking his entire lineage by speaking out of turn, “She might still be alive out there!”
“He’s right,” Menash found himself agreeing despite his dislike for Racek, “She’s our alpha, after all. It would be a shame to lose her helix. Do we have your leave to send out a party to recover her?”
The Vitalus pondered the request for a moment, then crushed his hopes when it said:
“Regrettable, the loss of the female. Valuable stock for the breeding program. But it has not responded to Our signals—it is unlikely to have survived. The female Vezda shall take up its duties as alpha.”
“But Your Benevolence—” both men cried out in unison.
“It is decided. She has risked the Great Game, and must abide by its outcome. To speak more on this would risk Our displeasure,” the god warned.
“We can’t spare the manpower anyway,” Vezda pointed out, trying not to look too pleased at Its decision. She darted a quick look at Menash, long enough for him to see the selfish desire festering in her heart. He turned away from her in disgust, baring his blades by the slightest of margins to let her know what he thought of her, then asked the Vitalus:
“But what of the Engine’s seedpod? Should we search for it?”
“Negative!” the Vitalus boomed, its node reinforcing the word with a spike of activity that sent needles of pain spearing into their heads, “We shall complete this task. It is dangerous and can be entrusted to no other.”
The Hollowore angled its massive head towards the cavernous ceiling, armored flaps on its back sliding aside as it unfurled sets of rigid sixty-meter wings. A wide sphincter on the roof gaped open and Menash saw the evening sky awash with the stars in their milky multitudes. The Hollowore took a deep breath through the spiracles lining its thorax and abdomen, pumping air through a pair of hollow tube-like protuberances under either of its wings. Menash and the others quickly scampered to a safe distance. Seconds later there was a scream of chemical combustion and the Hollowore rose into the evening skies, leaving behind a long trail of superheated gases, the backwash almost knocking Menash off his feet. They watched as the Hollowore gained altitude, making straight for the columns of billowing smoke on the horizon, a sweeping shadow blotting out the light of the heavens.
The Vitalus’ mental presence receded with it. When it did not return, they took it to mean that they were dismissed and likewise took flight and headed for Chthonis. They were hardly out of the Dawning Chamber when Vezda seized the scrawny Racek by his wings and anchored her feet right up against his back.
“Funny little man, are you? Crack jokes at my expense again, and I’ll see to it that you’ll never fly again!” she snarled, yanking hard. Racek yelled as his wings threatened to pop out of their sockets.
“Stop!” Menash said, ramming his shoulder into her and knocking the smaller male out of her grip. Vezda rounded on him, blades out and her tail aquiver with rage.
“As for you! No one should speak to the Vitalus like that!” she shrieked, “Much less gainsay It! Are you trying to get us all killed? It is the source and continuance of life itself—”
“But the Vitalus doesn’t always consider the individual scale of things,” Menash reasoned, controlling his rising anger as he tried to defuse the situation, “Its scope of thought is beyond ours. Therefore it is up to us to look after each other. None of us can win the Great Game alone. We need people like Zildiz for the species to prosper.”
“Your logic is flawed,” Vezda spat, “Empathy is a sham devised by the selfish action of the gene, which seeks only to preserve itself. At least I am honest enough to look after my own interests. Your obsession with that whore is misplaced. Heed my words, Menash. What happened today marks a change in the Great Game. Only the ruthless will reap the rewards of this era. Think on that, and act accordingly.”
The female darted off in another direction, leaving the two behind.
“Thanks,” Racek said, rubbing at his sore shoulders, “My, my. She’s really taking her promotion very seriously, isn’t she?”
“This doesn’t make us friends,” Menash said shortly, “We share a common interest, that’s all.”
The two flew together in silence for a time, the dark canopy unrolling below their feet. Racek had always been a bitter rival for Zildiz’s affections. In the mating seasons he and Menash had flown the damsel-dance against each other countless times, racing and dogfighting at top speed through the dense bamboo thickets in an effort to impress her.
But each time she had always chosen Menash. Naturally. He was the stronger, the braver, the son of the Scourge who had slain hundreds on his lightning raids into Leaper territory. Their pairings had been brief and passionate, yet she had always laughed at the end and gone on her merry way, a rose petal borne on a scented breeze, the dalliance as meaningless to her as other concerns like eating or breathing.
But not to him. Right now, all that mattered was her. And Racek was the only one in the whole wide world who knew exactly how he felt. Did that mean he could be trusted? Menash considered the enormity of what he was about to do, and wavered. Then he saw her face in the darkness of his home, the face she wore when they were all alone together, and he took a deep breath before breaking the silence, saying:
“I’ll be in charge of the quarantine. I can arrange for you to disappear for a few days. I can have one of the younglings mimic your magnetosynaptic signal, make it seem like you’re with the rest of us.”
“You’d do that? For me?” Racek said in astonishment.
“Hah. Not for you,” Menash laughed softly. He looked Racek straight in the eyes and continued: “What’ll it be, then?”
If he so much as hesitates, I’ll have to kill him here and now, Menash told himself.
“Why, yes. Yes, of course!” the little brown male said vigorously.
“Good,” Menash sighed with relief, “She’ll be very grateful to whoever brings her home. I’d do it myself, but as an alpha I can’t risk being seen as disobedient.”
“Then why give me this chance? After all that’s passed between us?”
“I should have thought that was obvious,” Menash replied. Racek digested that for a bit, then out of nowhere said:
“If I find her—when I find her—I’ll tell her exactly who it was that sent me.”
“That won’t be necessary.”
“Bah! Just so we’re even, that’s all,” Racek grinned, his mouthparts slanting askew.
“Thanks, I guess. I’d…I’d appreciate that. You do understand what we’re risking here, right?”
“Sure. We’ll be total genetic write-offs if we’re caught. But it’s not like I wanted to see tiny ugly Raceks running around the house anyway. What about you, though? Why are you putting your neck on the chopping block?”
“You know why,” Menash said quietly, his thoughts still lingering on her face.
“Yes,” Racek agreed with a wistful air, “Yes, I suppose I do.”
And the pair spoke no more until they reached Chthonis.
Link for all the chapters available here: Engines of Arachnea on Royal Road

My high school job was working at the CVS in small town East Bumblebutt*, and my absolute favorite aisle was the one with all of the pipe tobaccos. Every night as I faced the store, I found reasons to linger amongst the various bags and secretly sniff them. It always disappointed me that they smelled completely differently when smoked by my geography teacher outside during lunch breaks!
Teenage Smells PG is having her moment today with Or du Serail by Naomi Goodsir. A light dab opens with a sweet apple (barely fruit and closer to blossom), moderate amounts of honey that is not cloying, a touch of rum and a hint of tobacco. Within 30 minutes the fragrance blooms to reveal a soft flower and the tiniest hint of coconut, as the tobacco deepens. After 2 hours, it's full on sweet pipe tobacco, and I'm in heaven. After 8 hours, I can still catch a whiff when I raise my arm to run my hands through my hair.
This is the fragrance you

• bring on vacation with you for when you go to dinner somewhere with white tablecloths, where as the night goes on and people get closer they wonder what is it that is making you smell so deliciously, quietly refined
• wear on a chilly day while curled up with a good book and a Trader Joe's trail mix, dreaming of an Edwardian romance featuring you as the hero/heroine
• take to your business meeting for just a hint of something elegant that lightly wafts around you as you expertly present your work

Perfumer: Bertrand Duchaufour
Scent Notes: Top notes are Mango, Red Berries, Apple and Sweet Orange; middle notes are Rum, Coconut, Mate, Ylang-Ylang, Artemisia, Sage and Geranium; base notes are Honey, Tobacco, Beeswax, Vanilla, Amber, Oak Tree, Labdanum, Cedar and Musk
Silage: Moderate (within 4 feet)
Longevity: Good (6-7 hours at 70 degrees and 72% humidity)
Cost: $4 for a sample, $187 for a 50 mL bottle
Worth It? Absolutely. This is a gorgeous, solidly unisex scent that is an all season pleasure, well crafted and highly enjoyable to wear.
*Leave a comment below if you are also small town born and bred!

I'm kind of at my wits end here, no matter what filter level I set (it's not the filter), items just randomly stop dropping. I'll open a check in the labyrinth and literally nothing shows. I have to leave the zone and go back in, then suddenly I have legendaries on the ground. Just a bit ago I had a giant red light on the ground and a star - but I couldn't find any door for 15 minutes or so, by the time I got back it despawned.
This happens on ethernet or wireless, in groups or out, with super-sampling on or off, audio on or off, and it's near constant and gotten worse and worse in the last few updates. It's really, really, hard to try to farm and get any sort of orbs so I can possibly find gear when I literally can't see anything dropping. I'm not really sure what I can do here, and I am on a PS4 Pro (I have friends who don't have PC so I'm a bit limited here in options. Is there anything I can possibly do?
Is there some sort of cache or something I can clear? Or do I just need to reinstall?

It’s been a long time I wanted to submit this story to the Potato Queen herself!
It’s a long story, actually it’s two stories in one, because as it involves the same person over more than decade long, it’s worth telling the whole story all at once (and it makes it may more fun too!). I decided to share it because it’s the kind of story that doesn’t seem to happen very often.
Below you will find goodies about an ex, a wedding, a dress, a delivery company and more! Please simply be mindful English is not my first language, trying my best to entertain you all the same.
This story goes back a long way, when (let’s name him) Frank (M) and myself (F) were both in college (both 17 at the time, we’re now 33), young and naive teenagers. We started as friends and eventually decided to be together. We then decided to move to another city together, as I was about to start university.
It went well for a while and then started to go south. So, long story short, after about two years together, we decided to break up. It wasn’t a mean breakup or anything, I think we were mostly disappointed it didn’t work out. Anyway.
We live in the province of Quebec. For those who don’t know, there is this weird tradition of starting and ending about any lease on July 1st. I have no idea why, but Canada’s Day has always been for anybody moving, in this province, a synonym of sweating under the sun, moving boxes, lifting heavy things and ending the day with cold beer and cheap pizza in a new and probably not so clean apartment. Why this context? Because we broke up two weeks before July 1st. It means it was virtually impossible to find another apartment so close to this date. We were about 7 hours away from both our families living on the countryside. We were also awfully broke students. We decided to give it a chance at being roommates.
Yes, it was super awkward at first, really not easy to manage to say the least. We were walking on eggshells and were definitely on edge for a while. There were also some pretty awkward situations, like this one time he decided to bring a one night home as I was sleeping in the adjacent room. Not only that, but the shameful phone call he had to make, waking me up in the middle of the night, so I could unlock the front door because he had forgotten his keys to find out he had brought home an acquaintance of mine. Nowadays I find this story delightfully funny tbh. But on that night, as I couldn’t go back to sleep because the gal decided to show off how an amazing singer she could have been —because, oh boy, this voice carried loudly all the way to my ears for more than an hour — I did not find it funny. I was furious, but prepared myself for the eventuality it would ever happen again. Do you remember the “Tiny Wall Challenges”? Let’s just say I had some games ideas after that night.
Anyway, anybody would probably have walked away but we still deeply cared for each other. We even did better than just survive through this whole year as roommates, we decided to move into a bigger apartment with two other friends. Believe it or not, we stayed there two more years. Moreover, these years were some of the best years and I still keep lots of good memories from this period.
Fast forward to the second part of the story. After being roommates for years, at some point we parted ways and lived our lives. We maintained contact throughout the years and when Frank finally started dating his wife to be, I was absolutely happy for him. He asked her to marry him and she said yes! Our friendship still held such a high place in both our hearts that he asked me to be one of his groomsmen, with his other best friend and his little brother. I felt so honoured, as I was technically a female, to be chosen to be on his side at the wedding.
The bridesmaids chose matching dresses in a beautiful forest green, all from a specialized website from UK, and I was to also be in a dress on the groom’s side, but matching the colour of the other groomsmen suits. With Frank, We all shopped together for their suits, chose a beautiful dark grey for his and a light grey for us, and we were able to match it perfectly with clothing samples I ordered from the website. Everything was going as planned. That being done, I ordered the dress, considering buying two inches heel shoes to go with it. It would take about four months to be done and the dress would arrive about a month and a half before the wedding. I decided to wait for the dress to arrive to pick shoes to go with it.
Four months passed, and I finally received a notice that the dress was on its way. The bridesmaids dresses arrived a bit before mine and they were all absolutely beautiful. As we all ordered from the same shop, we were able to choose different dresses that suited each of our styles, with identical fabrics that made the whole thing look fantastic.
I received the delivery’s notice, saying it was to be delivered by DHL. (If you never had to deal with this delivery company before, let’s just say this in itself is a red flag, but what could I do.)
I chose a delivery date that I could be home all day. I awaited their arrival, and waited. At some point I received a notification that they couldn’t deliver it because there was an error in the address. I called DHL customer service as soon as I read it and could verify with the clerk on the phone that there was no error on the original delivery address and that actually, internally, they miss-wrote a letter of the postal code. The person assured me that the delivery person would be notified and they would then be on their way back.
I waited. It never came.
The next morning, I received a notification that, unable to deliver it, the expeditor had agreed to DESTROY the package! I screamed! Why in the world would the UK online shop allow to destroy a custom made dress that took four months to do?! And why the hell the delivery service didn’t make any other attempt after being responsible of the address error in the first place. I was beyond mad. I called DHL, they confirmed someone at the company had agreed on the destruction of the item. I wrote to the person I was in contact with from the beginning at the online shop (this lovely clerk who clearly never asked for any of this). Over there, they couldn’t find who the hell agreed to this insane request to destroy the dress. They were also appalled and didn’t understand how it could have happened. They could put a request to redo the dress rush, but we first needed to either try to stop the destruction from happening by going to the DHL warehouse directly, or to obtain a proof from DHL that the dress was irreversibly lost forever.
It felt surreal! The fiancées were both furious too. There was only one DHL warehouse we could go to do this kind of request in the city and it was really far. As the clock was ticking, they jumped in their car, joined me, and to the warehouse we went, arriving a few minutes before closing like an epic movie scene. The clerk there was mind blown by the whole situation. It seemed we were too late and the best we could do was to have the proof that, in their system, the dress had effectively transited and was destroyed.
With photos as proof in hand, I forwarded everything to the clerk of the online dress shop. Days passed, as they were awaiting the okay to start sewing a new dress. They were really trying their best to help the situation but it seemed to be a mess over there about the whole situation. We were now a month before the wedding. At some point, I was starting to panic. They finally agreed to redo it, but it would be waaaay too close before the wedding to receive it. Like a few days before kind of close, if nothing happened in transport this time.
I decided to go shopping for another dress. I spent a whole day trying to find the perfect grey that would fit the other groomsmen suits. In the last possible boutique, there was one dress checking all the criteria. I bought the new one and wrote to the first shop, hoping they would agree to refund the lost dress.
I took an appointment later that week to do the adjustments on the new dress. I then shopped for shoes. I found a cute pair with one inch heel that would be perfect for me. I’m not used to walking with heels, so the lower the better after all.
Like all this turmoil wasn’t enough, my family called and told me that my grandfather’s health suddenly decreased. Remember? Seven hours drive from family. I canceled some plans and bought a ticket for the night’s bus ride right after the dress fitting. On that morning, the UK shop agreed to refund the dress. That part was a big relief. I went to the dress fitting. At last, three weeks before the wedding, The second dress would be ready in about seven days. I came back home to gather some things to get back out to catch my bus.
But suddenly, the doorbell rang.
I opened.
Some DHL delivery man casually gave me a package and left.
Yes. That’s what you think.
I closed the door, went to my room, sat on the bed, opened the bag. It was indeed the first dress. I had a melt down. I cried so hard. I put the dress down, looked at it, told it “I’ll deal with you when I come back” and went away to the bus station.
Few days later, coming back from the family, I collected the second dress and dealt with the first one, which no longer fitted the length of the shoes! My MIL at the time knew an old lady who was lovely enough to accommodate me and do the fitting of the first one for a as modest price. I decided to keep it a secret until the wedding day. (These friends wouldn’t do any drama about reveals etc, nor would they think it was stealing any of their thunder, don’t worry about that.)
On the wedding morning, I effectively surprised the bride and groom with both dresses. They were mind blowed, flabbergasted to say the least! I put the original one for the official photoshoot and discretely changed right after dinner for the other one. People around that had followed the incredible adventures were laughing out loud and finding it hilarious that I decided to wear both of them as I had so much troubles!
Quite a story with dresses and with an ex, right? Guess what, I’m also the godmother of their first child!

I was reading some texts by Foyan when he mentioned Seng-ts'an and his writings. I decided to share and comment on the whole poem which is called Hsin Hsin Ming. The poem is huge, so buckle up!
On having no preferences.

The Perfect Way is only difficult for those who pick and choose; Do not like, do not dislike; all will then be clear. Make a hairbreadth difference, and Heaven and Earth are set apart; If you want the truth to stand clear before you, never be for or against. The struggle between "for" and "against" is the mind's worst disease; While the deep meaning is misunderstood, it is useless to meditate on Rest. It [the Buddha-nature] is blank and featureless as space; it has no "too little" or "too much;" Only because we take and reject does it seem to us not to be so.

If you support and objectify something outside yourself, that is already a preference. And then you will reject any view that denies your view of truth. However if you do not have such an object to look towards, what will you do? What would it look like not to fight against another view?
On taking things as they are.

Do not chase after Entanglements as though they were real things, Do not try to drive pain away by pretending that it is not real; Pain, if you seek serenity in Oneness, will vanish of its own accord. Stop all movement in order to get rest, and rest will itself be restless; Linger over either extreme, and Oneness is for ever lost. Those who cannot attain to Oneness in either case will fail: To banish Reality is to sink deeper into the Real; Allegiance to the Void implies denial of its voidness.

There is no use to clean your glasses with your own fingers, it will only smudge them more. By trying to fabricate states or change your current state hoping to have a nicer experience, you will only get further estranged from yourself. By reacting to emotions, you will create even more emotions. Why force rest or peace? Why prefer something more real? How can something other than this experience be more real?
On intellectualization.

The more you talk about It, the more you think about It, the further from It you go; Stop talking, stop thinking, and there is nothing you will not understand. Return to the Root and you will find the Meaning; Pursue the Light, and you will lose its source, Look inward, and in a flash you will conquer the Apparent and the Void. For the whirligigs of Apparent and Void all come from mistaken views;

This reminds of the monk who got to go on a walk with his master and they watched the sunset together. At one point the monk could not help himself and said "How beautiful!". His master never allowed him to go on a walk with him. Of course, this is an extreme case, but by expressing / looking for the beauty in words, it is no longer the same beauty. It is, as if, examined by one and no longer of-itself.
On duality of "Is" and "Isn't".

There is no need to seek Truth; only stop having views. Do not accept either position [Assertion and Negation], examine it or pursue it; At the least thought of "Is" and "Isn't" there is chaos and the Mind is lost. Though the two exist because of the One, do not cling to the One; Only when no thought arises are the Dharmas without blame. No blame, no Dharmas; no arising, not thought.

From the One Mind are born "this" or "that". It can flower in any direction, but don't consider it your own and see it as an arbitrary view.
On me and you.

The doer vanishes along with the deed, The deed disappears when the doer is annihilated. The deed has no function apart from the doer; The doer has no function apart from the deed. The ultimate Truth about both Extremes is that they are One Void. In that One Void the two are not distinguished; Each contains complete within itself the Ten Thousand Forms.

One void, not two, not me, not you. So tell me, who knows more than others? Who has views that others don't see? Who argues with another?
On having no fixed path.

Only if we boggle over fine and coarse are we tempted to take sides. In its essence the Great Way is all embracing; It is as wrong to call it easy as to call it hard. Partial views are irresolute and insecure, Now at a gallop, now lagging in the rear. Clinging to this or to that beyond measure The heart trusts to bypaths that lead it astray. Let things take their own course; know that the Essence will neither go nor stay; Let your nature blend with the Way and wander in it free from care.

Only a fool would try to put a nail in the sky. What is subtle and what is surface understanding? There is a point where they no longer mean anything separately. What then? When things are seen for what they are, as appearances in the One Mind, all boundaries begin to crumble. In nature some branches grow short, some long, all is the body of Buddha.
On splitting the hair in half.

Thoughts that are fettered turn from Truth, Sink into the unwise habit of "not liking." "Not liking" brings weariness of spirit; estrangements serve no purpose. If you want to follow the doctrine of the One, do not rage against the World of the Senses. Only by accepting the World of the Senses can you share in the True Perception. Those who know most, do least; folly ties its own bonds. In the Dharma there are no separate dharmas, only the foolish cleave To their own preferences and attachments.

Don't sit in your meditation or emptiness and reject everything. Don't sit with your Zen texts and reject what is not in your Zen texts. There is One Dharma and it manifests as all. Estrange yourself from your perceptions and senses and you will estrange yourself from the One Dharma.
On no differentiation.

To use Thought to devise thoughts, what more misguided than this? Ignorance creates Rest and Unrest; Wisdom neither loves nor hates. All that belongs to the Two Extremes is inference falsely drawn- A dream-phantom, a flower in the air. Why strive to grasp it in the hand? "Is" and "Isn't," gain and loss banish once for all: If the eyes do not close in sleep there can be no evil dreams; If the mind makes no distinctions all Dharmas become one.

I see this as river, it does not look for the best course, it just flows into the best course. It does not blame rocks for being in the way, it just goes over them. What do you blame? What is it that you want to accomplish and what is it that stands in your way?
On the end of complication.

Let the One with its mystery blot out all memory of complications. Let the thought of the Dharmas as All-One bring you to the So-in-itself. Thus their origin is forgotten and nothing is left to make us pit one against the other. Regard motion as though it were stationary, and what becomes of motion? Treat the stationary as though it moved, and that disposes of the stationary. Both these having thus been disposed of, what becomes of the One?

When you wake up from a dream in the morning, it instantly becomes unreal. In the same way, when all subjective complications are forgotten once and for all, the only flow of existence is revealed to have never ceased. Eternally This, ever flowing.
On freedom.

At the ultimate point, beyond which you can go no further, You get to where there are no rules, no standards, To where thought can accept Impartiality, To where effect of action ceases, Doubt is washed away, belief has no obstacle. Nothing is left over, nothing remembered; Space is bright, but self-illumined; no power of mind is exerted. Nor indeed could mere thought bring us to such a place. Nor could sense or feeling comprehend it. It is the Truly-so, the Transcendent Sphere, where there is neither He nor I.
For swift converse with this sphere use the concept "Not Two;" In the "Not Two" are no separate things, yet all things are included. The wise throughout the Ten Quarters have had access to this Primal Truth; For it is not a thing with extension in Time or Space; A moment and an aeon for it are one. Whether we see it for fail to see it, it is manifest always and everywhere. The very small is as the very large when boundaries are forgotten; The very large is as the very small when its outlines are not seen.

Thusness is the place of non-abiding. No one does the non-abiding so we can say that it happens of itself. This is the freedom that is sought after through endless kalpas of thoughts and emotions. Who would have thought that even thoughts and emotions are of themselves, part of it.
William Blake says:

To see a World in a Grain of Sand And a Heaven in a Wild Flower, Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand And Eternity in an hour. 

On the futility of words and trusting the Heart.

Being is an aspect of Non-being; Non-being is an aspect of Being. In climes of thought where it is not so the mind does ill to dwell. The One is none other than the All, the All none other than the One. Take your stand on this, and the rest will follow of its own accord; To trust in the Heart is the Not Two, the Not Two is to trust in the Heart. I have spoken, but in vain; for what can words tell Of things that have no yesterday, tomorrow or today?

Here we meet the paradox of being and non being, of using words to describe the word-less. What does it really mean to trust the Heart? We cannot convey that in any direct way using language. To be honest, we cannot convey much directly using language. Seeing things as not two, or not separate is to have trust in the Heart, or to put it in another way, not closing yourself off via intellectual analysis or emotional reactions is to have trust in the Heart. What is your take on all of this?

Claude Debussy, a prominent figure in Impressionist music, revolutionized harmony, melody, and cultural perceptions in music through his innovative compositions. Let's break down his impact statistically:

1. Harmony:
   
   • Debussy's harmonic language moved away from traditional functional harmony, embracing modal and pentatonic scales, whole-tone scales, and parallel chords.
   • Statistical analysis could show a decrease in the prevalence of traditional tonic-dominant relationships and an increase in the use of non-functional harmonic progressions.
   • Debussy's harmonic vocabulary expanded the tonal palette available to composers, influencing subsequent generations of musicians.
2. Melodies:
   
   • Debussy's melodies often featured fluid contours, incorporating elements of pentatonic and whole-tone scales.
   • Statistical analysis might reveal a departure from conventional melodic structures, with a focus on atmospheric, evocative lines rather than traditional, singable melodies.
   • His melodies often blurred the lines between melody and accompaniment, contributing to the overall impressionistic aesthetic of his music.
3. Culture:
   
   • Debussy's compositions challenged traditional notions of form, structure, and tonality, reflecting the changing cultural landscape of the late 19th and early 20th centuries.
   • His rejection of German Romanticism and embrace of French musical traditions helped to establish a distinct national identity in French music.
   • Through his use of exoticism and non-Western musical elements, Debussy contributed to the broader cultural fascination with the exotic and the mysterious during the fin de siècle period.

Statistical analysis of Debussy's compositions could provide insights into the frequency of specific harmonic progressions, melodic contours, and stylistic features. By examining patterns and trends within his music, researchers can better understand his unique contributions to the development of music harmony, melody, and cultural expression.

• Prelude to the Afternoon of a Faun (Prélude à l'après-midi d'un faune): This orchestral tone poem, inspired by Stéphane Mallarmé's poem, is a quintessential example of Debussy's impressionistic style. Its dreamy atmosphere, fluid melodies, and innovative harmonic language evoke the sensual world of the faun.
• La Mer: Debussy's symphonic sketches for orchestra, La Mer, depict the ever-changing moods of the sea. Through innovative orchestration and harmonic exploration, Debussy creates a vivid sonic portrait of the sea's power and beauty.
• Clair de Lune: This piano piece, part of the Suite Bergamasque, is one of Debussy's most famous works. Its gentle, shimmering harmonies and delicate melodies evoke the moonlit tranquility of a nighttime landscape.

1. Cultural Examples:
   • French National Identity: Debussy's rejection of German Romanticism and his embrace of French musical traditions helped to establish a distinct national identity in French music. His compositions, with their evocative depictions of French landscapes and folklore, contributed to a sense of cultural pride and nationalism.
   • Impressionist Movement: Debussy's music is often associated with the Impressionist movement in painting, which sought to capture the fleeting impressions of light and color. Like the Impressionist painters, Debussy focused on atmosphere, texture, and suggestion rather than precise detail, creating music that is more about mood and impression than literal representation.
   • Cultural Exchange and Exoticism: Debussy's fascination with non-Western music and exoticism is evident in works like Pagodes from Estampes and La soirée dans Grenade from Iberia. These pieces incorporate elements of Javanese gamelan music and Spanish flamenco, reflecting the broader cultural fascination with the exotic and the mysterious during the fin de siècle period.

I'm using a throwaway because my husband knows my reddit account. My husband let's call him Bryce (34m) and I (31f) have been married for 8 years with a 4 year old daughter. I had a difficult pregnancy with our daughter and dealt with a lot of physical and emotional issues postpartum. Throughout our marriage I have been the homemaker and Bryce has been the breadwinner and his job is quite physical. Prior to having our daughter we were intimate multiple times weekly. While dealing with postpartum I just didn't really desire anything physical, Bryce would try but I wasn't into it and he was respectful about it. Also I started to notice the increase in my daily workload having a child and it began to bother me that Bryce didn't really help out around the house. His daily routine was coming home from work, he showered, took a beer out of the fridge. Then it was ESPN until dinner. He waited until after I put our daughter to bed then he'd try to initiate sex. Maybe I'm wrong for this but after a while of being annoyed by his lack of involvement in the house I stopped even being nice about turning him down. One day he got really upset and asked me if I was cheating on him. I replied what time did I have to cheat when I'm with his daughter all day. Then I went on to tell him maybe he'd have better luck if he helped me more around the house. He replied that his job was hard so he rests when he's home. I then told him he gets to clock out from his job but I work the whole day and he still wants sex. After a pretty bad yelling match that woke our daughter up crying we ended the conversation so I could tend to her. To my surprise the next day Bryce came home, took a shower, then asked to take our daughter to the park. I appreciated the break but I knew he was just doing it to get sex later. He never asked for sex that night. His behavior continued everyday he did more and more around the house and never asked for sex. After about 3 months I started to see him in a different light and felt more energized after getting help on a regular basis. For the first time in years I wanted sex. I ordered something sexy to surprise him with and one evening after putting our daughter to bed I bathed, lit some candles, slipped on my husband's new gift, then called him into our room. He entered with beer in hand and looked around but when I tried to initiate he told me he wasn't feeling it that night and he was too tired. I even offered him a massage which he turned down. I tried several more times to initiate to which he responded that he was too tired. After a while I confronted him with the same question he asked me months prior, was he cheating on me. He responded that he's too tired to cheat he works really hard all day and whatever energy he has left he uses it to help out around the house before going to bed and doing it all over. So I asked him if that means the only way we can have sex is if he isn't helping out at home. He just shrugged his shoulders and walked out the room. A little over a week later I wanted to see if I could work something out with him so I went into den to confront him and caught him watching something lewd on his television and "handling himself". I got mad and yelled him "you can do this, but you're too tired for us to have sex". He responded that getting himself off is much easier and takes way less energy than trying to get me off. At this point I don't know what to do. I think this may be his petty revenge for asking for help in the house. Either way I'm not sure how to proceed. Any suggestions, anyone?