Part 1

The official story is that I hit my head. According to the lawyer I wasn't lucid enough to be a reliable witness, and honestly, I'm starting to believe that might be the truth. It's certainly easier to accept that everything was all just some nightmare.
But if my mind wasn't playing tricks on me, and those fuck-heads didn’t have anything to do with my friend’s disappearance, then there truly is no explanation for what happened.
My therapist and parents both agree. The best way to preserve my sanity is to chalk it all up to my imagination. But I see understanding in their eyes when I recount the events. They want to believe me, I know it. That alone is enough to fuel my doubt.
—
School had begun that September with mourning. I only knew the guy who passed away by face and name. It had happened a month after his graduation, and two months before his first year at Cornell.
During the intercom-ordered moment of silence, I looked out through the classroom. Some were bored, some cried. Many shifted in their seats and were glancing around, like myself, counting every second till the awkwardness would end.
It ended sooner than we thought when a kid with sports goggles a size too big bouncing on his face slammed the door open, obliviously clarifying his attendance.
I'm embarrassed to say that this kid, Aiden, was the only friend I had made in high school until this point. I have a hard time introducing myself to others, but being friends with a prepubescent outcast wasn't making that any easier.
After middle school, my family moved to the small village we live in now. It was a brainless choice because my Mom had found better work, my Dad wanted to be closer to his aging parents, and I desperately wanted out of my old school.
Aiden was the first kid to introduce himself when I transferred last year. I realized he was the token 'weird kid' way too late to make it into any social circles. I know it sounds like I'm a shit friend, but that's the way our relationship turned out. Sure, we told our parents and teachers we were friends, but in reality, it was more a tolerance than friendship.
After all, we didn't have anyone else.
For once, I was thankful for Aiden's lack of awareness. It gave me something to focus on instead of the depressing silence strangling the room.
After realizing his mistake, he whispered an apology, sat down, and pulled out an insect encyclopedia from his book bag. What a nerd.
I distracted myself by reading the book from over his shoulder, and before I knew it, lights were turned back on and class began in earnest.
—
I was able to learn what had happened by eavesdropping on hallway gossip between my classes.
Eight kids, six seniors and two juniors, had found a cave in a region of forest known as Skeleton Park. With that discovery, they decided to add spelunking to their pre-graduation bucket list.
Skeleton Park is the setting of countless local ghost stories, which made it a hot spot for rebellious teen antics. Kids would do everything there: party, drink, smoke, fuck, and everything in between. They even crawled around in caves apparently.
When I first moved, I was a skeptic with no intent of exploring the woods. But one creepy phenomenon always unnerved me. For some reason, animals completely avoided the area.
I initially dismissed this as fiction, like all the other folk tales, until I started walking my dog, Paddy, along the town's bike trail.
The trail runs parallel to the remains of a stone wall outlining Skeleton Park. The first couple of times I walked along it, I didn't notice anything peculiar. But after my Dad first told me about the rumors, I became aware that the area was unnaturally silent. No birds chirped in the trees, no flies buzzing, and no rustling from rodents or any other animals.
Even more surreal, on several occasions I saw deer stop at the wall and walk along it instead of passing through the area. It was like there was an invisible border they refused to cross.
With this context, I'm sure you can understand the reaction of the locals when eight kids entered, and only seven escaped two days later, traumatized and bruised.
Honestly, I was surprised to not have heard about the event over the summer, closer to when it happened. Even more strange though, was how unwilling Aiden was to talk about the incident.
He was the kind of kid who had a strong opinion about everything. On top of that, he was constantly bringing up horror movies, or Creepypastas he had found online. But when I asked his opinion on this summer's events during recess, he only shrugged. Despite the nonchalant response, the look on his face told me that it bothered him. So I didn’t press, and let the subject go.
At the time I'd guessed that he might've had some connection to the kid that went missing. In a way, he did.
—
After an exhausting day of attempts from teachers to console their students with speeches, candy, and exceptional lenience, I was ready to go home.
I expected to find Aidan at the usual spot by the bike racks, where we met each day to walk home. Instead, there was an audience next to the bikes, forming a ring around two disheveled figures.
The flying fists and shouting could only mean one thing, so I kept my distance. Then I heard Aidan yell center, “Fucker!’ and saw a glimpse of his face spitting from a bloody mouth onto the other fighter.
Even though his back was to me, I could tell Aidan’s opponent was easily 5 inches, and 60 pounds heavier than my friend.
Teachers didn’t arrive to break up the fight before the two were on the ground, Aidan mounted with arms up, desperately trying to block blows.
A whistle was blown, and people began running away as my math teacher desperately tried to pry the football player off of Aidan.
He fought back the grown man and was finally pulled away when two more adults rushed to help. The boy was screaming at Aiden with carnal rage.
"You're a fucking liar! How dare you, I'm going to fucking kill you if I ever see you again!"
Aidan was still screaming too, but backed away willingly.
"I'm telling the truth dumbass! You were trespassing! You should be lucky we didn't press charges!"
Aiden looked bad but waved the teachers off whenever they asked if he was OK. Blood poured from his forehead, mouth, and nose. He had at least one black eye.
The other guy, I learned from the crowd, was one of the two juniors who had gone to the cave. He didn't have as many cuts or bruises but was supporting his weight on one leg and his friend's shoulder. Multiple teachers forced him into a chair while they waited for a nurse to arrive.
While the crowd control was distracted, Aiden sneaked over to me and whispered that we needed to get out of there. A couple of minutes later, the two of us were walking home like nothing had ever happened.
It took me a while before I dared to ask Aiden for the full story. He didn't even let me finish my question, which let me know he was more or less his usual self.
"My family inherited the property everyone calls Skeleton Park. It's not haunted, it's not toxic, it's not the home of a satanic sex cult; it's just a piece of forest that's been in my family for a couple of generations."
He spat a dribble of red onto the sidewalk, and I realized I'd never seen Aiden get violent before. We had our share of bullying this past year, but he would always shrug it off and laugh. He wouldn't even try to fight back. We would just get pushed around a bit, and he'd make a quip afterward about the guys' weight or smell.
"Every summer, my dad and I drive around the perimeter putting up trespassing signs, and every year they get ripped down. We get police calls once a month during the summer that somebody came limping out of there with a broken arm or leg, and they have the balls to demand we do something about it. It's not our fault nobody follows the law around here. It's the fucking woods, and it's our private property. What the hell are we even supposed to do?"
To be honest, I hadn't even considered Skeleton Park could've been private property. Though I believed everything Aiden said, I had never seen any signs along the border wall. Embarrassed from being one of those trespassers, I looked away and stayed silent as Aiden continued.
"The area is just too big. There are too many places to enter, and there's no way to block it all off. Though it's not like that'll stop anybody. I feel bad that somebody died, but I'm also a little bit thankful. Maybe now, people will think twice before messing around out there."
We walked in silence until reaching the junction where we would have to part ways. I was tired and wanted to head home, but I also was worried that Aiden would be jumped by some of the seniors if he was alone. It had happened before, and his earlier brawl could've been seen as a declaration of war.
Instead of voicing these concerns, however, I asked if he wanted to play video games at his house. He was surprised by the request but agreed.
I was on edge with every passing car, and every blind turn, but thankfully we weren’t attacked. After a couple more minutes of walking, we made it to Aiden’s house. His Dad was outside watering the garden. He turned, noticing our approach in the corner of his eye, but his planned greeting died in his mouth when he saw the dried blood coating Aiden’s face.
"Holy Shit! what did you do this time?" he exclaimed, running over to inspect his son’s injuries. "Oh, hey Brian," he added, smiling briefly at me before returning to his analysis.
Mr. Eriks was cool for a dad. Aiden never had a bad thing to say about him, and the way he handled everything that happened in the following months would only increase my admiration for him. He'd raised Aiden by himself, and I would've considered him a second friend if he wasn't 40 years older than me.
After determining the damage wasn't all that bad: a cut on Aidan's forehead and lip producing most of the blood, the three of us went inside.
Aiden went upstairs to take a shower, and his dad privately thanked me for walking him home. It didn’t take long for me to cave, and ask Mr. Eriks about the park.
"Yeah, we do own it," he answered while preparing snacks for Aiden and me. " My wife, Aiden's mom, inherited it before she passed away, and then it was signed over to me. To be honest, I don't know too much about it, and she didn't either. We just used it to go camping there sometimes, back before Aiden was born. Now we go together because it reminds us of her."
"Did you ever run into people up there, when you're camping?"
"Yeah, though not in the fall and winter when we usually go. I have the police's local number on speed dial for when it happens. Usually, it's just teens though. Kids tend to run away as soon as they see an adult with a flashlight. Paranormal or not, they know they're not supposed to be there- You staying with us for dinner Brian?"
At this point, I was too curious about the truth of Skeleton Park to leave, so I nodded and said I just needed to check with my parents.
After a phone call with my mom, some pizza rolls, and a couple of rounds of Fortnite, the afternoon stress had mostly faded away.
Me and Aidan were sitting in his room, scrolling Netflix for a slasher film to watch, when I finally asked what I'd been dying to know the entire afternoon.
"So, why was that guy saying you're a liar?"
Aiden chuckled at the question.
"He refused to believe my family owned the property his friend died on."
"Why did you even say anything? You know that just makes them want to beat you up more, right?"
"I'm tired of everybody using our land like a public park, I'm tired of picking up condoms left by people I go to school with, and I'm tired of keeping quiet about it. I tried explaining it to people in middle school. Our first project in fifth grade was a presentation about something important to us, I did mine about the park. Nobody believed me, and it got me socially exiled for the next four years. "
I ignored the urge to explain that there was probably more to his social exile than a get-to-know-you presentation from four years ago.
"That's fair I guess," I said instead. "You're dad says you go camping there."
"Yeah, on three-day weekends, and sometimes longer on breaks. Mostly in the fall and winter when there are less trespassers."
"You don't find it creepy camping there? Even without the trespassers?"
"You mean because of the silence?" Aiden smiled and looked over at me. "Yeah, the rumor about the animals is true as far as I can tell. Sure. It's kind of weird, but in winter it's kind of beautiful too. After a blizzard, there's nothing to disturb the snow, and it's kinda like the whole forest has gone to sleep. With the snow and no animals, it can get so quiet that you hear your own heart beating."
He looked off past me with a feeling of nostalgia, but all I felt was chills.
"I can take you if you want," Aiden added. "I'll have to ask my dad, but I think it would be fun to have another person camp with us."
"I'll think about it," was my way of declining without saying no.
Aiden just shrugged. "Suit yourself. Offer still stands if you ever change your mind."
Much to my annoyance, we weren’t even able to finish the movie. My Mom called, saying she was outside to pick me up an hour into our viewing of The Blair Witch Project.
I went to bed wondering how anyone could feel safe camping in a place like that. After contemplating taking Aidan up on his offer, I concluded there could be nothing that would make me spend the night there. Ironically, it would be less than a week before I changed my mind.
—
Three days later, I was walking Paddy along our usual route when she stopped and looked up at something beyond the stone wall, into Skeleton Park. She stood like a statue, eyes wide and fixated on some invisible thing.
I tried tugging the leash, pulling out a treat, begging, and making all kinds of sounds, but she just stood there. Paddy was a six-year-old golden retriever who easily weighed as much as I did, so I couldn't do much more than wait for her to move.
Suddenly, she began barking wildly at the air.
I tried approaching, but she growled at me, a sound I had never heard from her before, and I was forced to back away.
Before I could even process what was happening. She leaped over the wall and ran at full speed into the woods. It all happened so quickly that I had no time to tighten my grip on the leash.
She sprinted straight into the woods, and I chased after her, but I didn't make it far without tripping on a root hidden among the leaves. My knee was split open by something as I fell, and it took all my strength, fighting past the shock, to get back up. After recovering, I looked in all directions, but couldn't see Paddy anymore. I could only hear the tossing of leaves and branches in the distance.
Then there was nothing. Not a single sound. I'm not sure why I didn't question the sudden silence back then. It wasn't the gradual fade into silence you would expect from something running away. It was as if somebody had just hit a mute button on everything but the wind through the trees.
I don't know, maybe I'm misremembering the details.
Patty's disappearance doesn't matter anyway. We never found her, and dogs don’t live for twenty years, so at this point, we never will.
After taking a moment to recover from the shock, I limped home crying and told my parents what had happened. My Dad called the police because it was the only thing we could think of, but all they did was apologize and recommend we put up posters.
They couldn't do anything even if they wanted to. After all, she ran onto private property.
After that, the last thing I could think to do was call Aiden. His dad promised they could search the park that night, and he also offered to take me for an extended search the following weekend in case they didn’t find anything.
Of course, they didn't find her, just half of a leash wrapped around a branch. At least, that's what my parents told me the Eriks had found, they never actually let me see it.
A day before the trip, the Forecast started predicting snow: Saturday night into Sunday, eight inches, wet.
I probably should've given up then. Instead, I told Aiden this would probably be my only chance to find Paddy, insisting she wouldn't survive in the snow. After making sure with his dad, we continued with the plan and headed out after school Friday night.
—
While it hurts keeping this story in, reliving the memories is almost as painful. So I'm going to take a break writing for now and continue in a day or two. If anyone has a scientific explanation for why animals were avoiding that area, or for my dog's behavior, please let me know.
Thanks for reading, B
Part 1

Advice/Help - CIN2, heavy spotting after period?
Hello! First time poster and this may be long so I apologize. I will also be discussing my weight so if you don’t like that please don’t read :) I’m in Canada also!
For context, I am 26, almost 27 and found out in September of 2023 during my 3rd PAP test that my first and second PAP tests were not normal and was never told. I was referred for a colposcopy in December and I found out in January of this year that I have pre-cancerous cells/CIN2. I have my recheck appointment in a few weeks. I’ve been told by most people not to stress as it’s a “normal” thing and because I’m young it’s likely to go away but I can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong :(
I was on the on the pill from age 15-22. I also didn’t have a regular period when I started on the pill (I was having sex and my family doctor and mother basically forced me to take the pill - lol) My periods were extremely regular for those years, like clockwork (started on a Wednesday, would be done by Saturday/sunday) quite light and usually 4-5 days. I went off birth control from mid 2020 until July of 2021. That summer I lost around 20ish pounds and got the nexplanon implant. The birth control combined with the weight loss (I think) made my period completely stop, and I didn’t have it again until I got the nexplanon out and gained the same weight back again (September 2022).
From September 2022-July 2023, my weight skyrocketed without any change of diet or exercise (for context, my “normal” weight was around 150-160, when I lost weight in 2021 I was around 135-140. I also lost all of my hair density and it would come out in clumps. April-June 2023 I was around 180-190) I have been losing around 10lbs a month since ince then, again without any change to lifestyle. I currently weigh 128lbs, less than I was when I was a teenager. Doctors I’ve talked to don’t seem to think the weight loss is an issue, I have a colonoscopy scheduled to rule out any issues there.
Now, my period started on May 9th and ended on the 11th and was extremely light. So light that I only wore a tampon for a day and then didn’t need anything for the rest. I also typically only use regular tampons and never soak through. Today is the 15th and I woke up, used the bathroom and there was blood in the toilet and on my toilet paper. I wrote it off as spotting but it’s gotten heavier as the day progressed. I put a tampon in just to make my life easier and pulled it out after 2 hours and it had more blood on it than any period I’ve had in years.
I may be freaking myself out but has anyone ever dealt with this? I know that vaginal bleeding is a symptom of cancer and knowing I have precancerous cells is making me spiral.
I’m honestly not sure what I’m asking for- but any advice, similar situations or anything would be helpful.
I’ve attached my lab results from my first colposcopy in case there’s any one who can read it better than I can.
Thanks in advance!
-a very anxious 27 year old teenager who needs a bit of support :(

My little dog was a teacup Maltese and she was 2 years 5 months old. I work from home with my wife so we got to spend every minute together for her whole life. We traveled together, flew from America to Korea with her and made countless memories with her.
She passed away this morning due to low blood! We took her to the vet 2 days ago and they did what they could to get her blood back to normal, but it wasn’t enough and she passed overnight. I have spent all day crying. I cried so much I had migraines. I broke down in a ball on the ground crying until I had no tears left.
I physically can’t go on without her in my life. My wife is devastated as well. My wife is also pregnant with our 4 month old baby. I need to stay strong for her and help my wife not stress so much! I don’t know what to do seriously.
I have never experienced loss in my life until this moment. I wanted to jump in the grave with my dog and lay next to her. How can I cope with this? How do I stay strong if I feel like I can’t move on without my little dog by my side.
That’s my little girl, that’s my little dog, I had her since 8 weeks old and never spent 1 night without her sleeping next to me! She passed away too young. I’m just not strong enough for this..

How I Wonder What You Are by Al Bruno III

I’ll know the time is right when the howling begins. It will be after sundown of course, the Mothers and Fathers of Jebsen only scream after sundown, and only on the clearest of nights.
There is no town of Jebsen listed on any map, even in its heyday of the 1940’s it was too small to be worthy of notice. It’s nothing more than a collection of buildings at the end of a dead end road. On one side it is bordered by long untended corn fields, on the other the swampy remains of Lake Campbell. The most noticeable of the town’s buildings is a red brick edifice with a wide domed roof of fractured glass. The rest is just barns and single story homes. Along the border of the swamp is row after row of barbed wire and bear traps.
I’ll let them scream for an hour or so, let them become tired. Even now it amazes me how I had learned to pick out the individual voices in the cacophony. The Widow Toth tires easily but the Garrets will be at it until dawn.
And what will I be doing while every able-bodied adult is on the rooftops? I’ll be slipping these pages into this mason jar and sealing it lid in place with the wax from a melted crayon. The Children of Jebsen won’t miss just one, especially not purple.
Twenty-five years ago a calamity befell the town of Jebsen. The authorities blamed it all on the after effects of an experimental insecticide but the Old Book the town elders read from every Sunday said otherwise. It told the citizens of Jebsen that a curse was carried by those twinkling dots in the sky. A malevolence traveling at 186,000 miles per second that would twist their Children into nightmares should a glint of it ever touch their skin.
That is why they scream at the starlight; hating it, cursing it, raging at it.
You can’t see what their Children have become and not feel the same way. The changes are heartbreaking and horrifying all at once but after you spend time with them you feel differently. There is mockery in the mis-set eyes that peer from those mollified skulls.
They know secrets. On quiet, cloudy nights I would put my ear to one families’ basement door or another and hear them murmuring and giggling as they writhe in their basement styes.
I think of their weeping mouths and soft teeth and remember that day half a decade ago the ill-advised shortcut and along the neglected county route 99. I remember approaching the train bridge and seriously considering turning around, it looked decades out of repair and I half suspected it would collapse as I passed under it.
But I didn’t turn back, my ego wouldn’t let me. I was right and the road was wrong so I drove under the train bridge, momentarily marveling at the strange and elaborate graffiti that covered it.
I was just past the structure when a small, bent figure ran out from the long grass.
The sounds are what I really remember; the squeal of the brakes, the thud of the body on the hood of my car, the thick crack of laminated glass.
I would later learn the name of the child I had hit was Julius McCarty but all I knew then was that there was an emaciated, bloodied shape lying halfway through my windshield.
Human instinct made me reach out, to see if the little boy was alive. When my fingers brushed his skin he twisted around to face me. His mouth lashed out proboscis-like and nuzzled into the flesh of my arm.
Pain bristled out from where the boy had latched on to me. I screamed, thrashed. I shoved the car door open and tumbled out onto the asphalt. The boy coughed once and died.
At first the wound held all my attention. How could it not? I had expected to see torn flesh and blood but instead the boy’s distended mouth had left behind a cluster of thick, festering ulcerations.
But then I became aware of the men making their way out of the tall grass. These were the Fathers of Jebsen understood immediately what had happened.
They had brought everything they might need to bring one of their Children back home to its basement; rope, bandages and cudgels. It was also everything they needed to make a captive of me.
They, dragged me away from the accident site, through the tall grass and over the collapsed remains of a chain link fence to leave me in the care of the Mothers of Jebsen. Those gaunt women had cudgels of their own and I was a mass of bruises and welts by the time the hole in the Earth had been made to their standards.
The menfolk returned carrying the child wrapped in a linen shroud. They dropped it roughly into the ground. There were no ceremonies, tears or headstone. It was well after dark by the time I had filled the grave back in.
Now here it is years later and I’ve had to dig a dozen more graves, one by one the Mothers and Fathers are dying out, it’s always a surprise when it happens. Every mother and father of Jensen is withered and white haired but every year a few more die in their sleep, or at work in the fields or at prayer in their red brick observatory.
The Children are dying too, not a one has ever lived past seventeen. One by one they waste away, except of course for the occasional accident like the one that trapped me here.
Despite these curse that has befallen them the people of Jebsen continue to reproduce, each mother convinced that this time she will give birth to the Great Redeemer as was foretold in the Old Book. Each time they fail and each time the result is locked away in it’s family’s basement.
You can’t imagine those basements, the smell of rotten meat, the ankle deep fecal matter and the perfectly clean toys. They draw equations on the walls, gold and silver crayons are their preferred color. Every Tuesday I have to visit each of those cellars and scrub the theorems and postulations away.
The youngest of the Children is a newborn, still angry from the womb, the oldest is seventeen and nearly rotted away. No matter the age they all taunt me as I work, sometimes with bites, sometimes with maledictions. Both have left unimaginable scars.
So many scars now, I’m marked, I could never walk among the people I’d known before. They’d refuse to recognize me and insist I was a stranger
The Widow Thoth says this is my penance for the death of Julius McCarty, she even went so far as to cite chapter and verse on the subject from Old Book itself. The Mothers and Fathers of Jebsen, base every aspect of their lives on that thick volume of prophecies and homilies.
I wonder if anyone will notice me as leaving. I doubt it, even when they’re not screaming their heads off a long dead suns they barely notice my comings and goings.
As I said before, the Mothers and Father’s of Jebsen have become so sure of me. Some families think I’ve become a true believer, the rest think the cinder block chained to my ankle is enough to keep me in my place.
I don’t know who you are or when you’ll find this message. My only hope is that you will believe me. If you do, please bring this document to the proper authorities. Don’t let my death be for nothing.
I go to the bottom of the swamp with two regrets. One is that I won’t be there when the town of Jebsen is discovered and burned to the ground.
The other is that six months ago I accepted Father Garett’s invitation to join in their celebrations. I went willingly with them to the old brick observatory. I prayed with them. I danced with them. I partook in all of their debasements.
And for a little while, perhaps an hour, I was happy.
They even asked me to give reading from the Old Book. I eagerly stopped up to the podium and began flipping through the thick volume.
Everyone waited for me to choose a passage and speak but all I did was shake and weep at what I beheld. My knees buckled. My mind shut down. I had to be carried out and put to bed.
You see, the Old Book was blank from cover to cover. You’re even holding some of those pages in your hands now.
I used them to write my story.

How I Wonder What You Are by Al Bruno III

I’ll know the time is right when the howling begins. It will be after sundown of course, the Mothers and Fathers of Jebsen only scream after sundown, and only on the clearest of nights.
There is no town of Jebsen listed on any map, even in its heyday of the 1940’s it was too small to be worthy of notice. It’s nothing more than a collection of buildings at the end of a dead end road. On one side it is bordered by long untended corn fields, on the other the swampy remains of Lake Campbell. The most noticeable of the town’s buildings is a red brick edifice with a wide domed roof of fractured glass. The rest is just barns and single story homes. Along the border of the swamp is row after row of barbed wire and bear traps.
I’ll let them scream for an hour or so, let them become tired. Even now it amazes me how I had learned to pick out the individual voices in the cacophony. The Widow Toth tires easily but the Garrets will be at it until dawn.
And what will I be doing while every able-bodied adult is on the rooftops? I’ll be slipping these pages into this mason jar and sealing it lid in place with the wax from a melted crayon. The Children of Jebsen won’t miss just one, especially not purple.
Twenty-five years ago a calamity befell the town of Jebsen. The authorities blamed it all on the after effects of an experimental insecticide but the Old Book the town elders read from every Sunday said otherwise. It told the citizens of Jebsen that a curse was carried by those twinkling dots in the sky. A malevolence traveling at 186,000 miles per second that would twist their Children into nightmares should a glint of it ever touch their skin.
That is why they scream at the starlight; hating it, cursing it, raging at it.
You can’t see what their Children have become and not feel the same way. The changes are heartbreaking and horrifying all at once but after you spend time with them you feel differently. There is mockery in the mis-set eyes that peer from those mollified skulls.
They know secrets. On quiet, cloudy nights I would put my ear to one families’ basement door or another and hear them murmuring and giggling as they writhe in their basement styes.
I think of their weeping mouths and soft teeth and remember that day half a decade ago the ill-advised shortcut and along the neglected county route 99. I remember approaching the train bridge and seriously considering turning around, it looked decades out of repair and I half suspected it would collapse as I passed under it.
But I didn’t turn back, my ego wouldn’t let me. I was right and the road was wrong so I drove under the train bridge, momentarily marveling at the strange and elaborate graffiti that covered it.
I was just past the structure when a small, bent figure ran out from the long grass.
The sounds are what I really remember; the squeal of the brakes, the thud of the body on the hood of my car, the thick crack of laminated glass.
I would later learn the name of the child I had hit was Julius McCarty but all I knew then was that there was an emaciated, bloodied shape lying halfway through my windshield.
Human instinct made me reach out, to see if the little boy was alive. When my fingers brushed his skin he twisted around to face me. His mouth lashed out proboscis-like and nuzzled into the flesh of my arm.
Pain bristled out from where the boy had latched on to me. I screamed, thrashed. I shoved the car door open and tumbled out onto the asphalt. The boy coughed once and died.
At first the wound held all my attention. How could it not? I had expected to see torn flesh and blood but instead the boy’s distended mouth had left behind a cluster of thick, festering ulcerations.
But then I became aware of the men making their way out of the tall grass. These were the Fathers of Jebsen understood immediately what had happened.
They had brought everything they might need to bring one of their Children back home to its basement; rope, bandages and cudgels. It was also everything they needed to make a captive of me.
They, dragged me away from the accident site, through the tall grass and over the collapsed remains of a chain link fence to leave me in the care of the Mothers of Jebsen. Those gaunt women had cudgels of their own and I was a mass of bruises and welts by the time the hole in the Earth had been made to their standards.
The menfolk returned carrying the child wrapped in a linen shroud. They dropped it roughly into the ground. There were no ceremonies, tears or headstone. It was well after dark by the time I had filled the grave back in.
Now here it is years later and I’ve had to dig a dozen more graves, one by one the Mothers and Fathers are dying out, it’s always a surprise when it happens. Every mother and father of Jensen is withered and white haired but every year a few more die in their sleep, or at work in the fields or at prayer in their red brick observatory.
The Children are dying too, not a one has ever lived past seventeen. One by one they waste away, except of course for the occasional accident like the one that trapped me here.
Despite these curse that has befallen them the people of Jebsen continue to reproduce, each mother convinced that this time she will give birth to the Great Redeemer as was foretold in the Old Book. Each time they fail and each time the result is locked away in it’s family’s basement.
You can’t imagine those basements, the smell of rotten meat, the ankle deep fecal matter and the perfectly clean toys. They draw equations on the walls, gold and silver crayons are their preferred color. Every Tuesday I have to visit each of those cellars and scrub the theorems and postulations away.
The youngest of the Children is a newborn, still angry from the womb, the oldest is seventeen and nearly rotted away. No matter the age they all taunt me as I work, sometimes with bites, sometimes with maledictions. Both have left unimaginable scars.
So many scars now, I’m marked, I could never walk among the people I’d known before. They’d refuse to recognize me and insist I was a stranger
The Widow Thoth says this is my penance for the death of Julius McCarty, she even went so far as to cite chapter and verse on the subject from Old Book itself. The Mothers and Fathers of Jebsen, base every aspect of their lives on that thick volume of prophecies and homilies.
I wonder if anyone will notice me as leaving. I doubt it, even when they’re not screaming their heads off a long dead suns they barely notice my comings and goings.
As I said before, the Mothers and Father’s of Jebsen have become so sure of me. Some families think I’ve become a true believer, the rest think the cinder block chained to my ankle is enough to keep me in my place.
I don’t know who you are or when you’ll find this message. My only hope is that you will believe me. If you do, please bring this document to the proper authorities. Don’t let my death be for nothing.
I go to the bottom of the swamp with two regrets. One is that I won’t be there when the town of Jebsen is discovered and burned to the ground.
The other is that six months ago I accepted Father Garett’s invitation to join in their celebrations. I went willingly with them to the old brick observatory. I prayed with them. I danced with them. I partook in all of their debasements.
And for a little while, perhaps an hour, I was happy.
They even asked me to give reading from the Old Book. I eagerly stopped up to the podium and began flipping through the thick volume.
Everyone waited for me to choose a passage and speak but all I did was shake and weep at what I beheld. My knees buckled. My mind shut down. I had to be carried out and put to bed.
You see, the Old Book was blank from cover to cover. You’re even holding some of those pages in your hands now.
I used them to write my story.

I am a 26 years old female and I have Hashimoto’s and PCOS . My thyroid function is at a normal level due to my medication, but it still presents challenges. I have not had a full period in well over 6 months , and I was almost diabetic ( Which is why I started my Wegovy journey to begin with). In the first two months I have lost 4 kg (8.8 pounds) which is lower than some other people, but I get it, it comes with the health issues I previously had.
Is there anyone else who has the same struggles, that has some tips to share? I know I am just at the beginning but the thyroid issues have made weight loss so frustrating over the years. Especially in the past years my system has felt so slow and like I could not lose weight like I did at 19-23. I feel stuck many times because my energy has been so low until recently,and I do not want to give up this time. I am super motivated to keep going but I want to do everything in my power to facilitate weight loss this time.
For guidelines I started at 117 kg( 258 lbs) and I do currently work out 2-3 times a week. I mainly do Zumba classes mixed with some strength training. And I burn around 540 - 600 active calories per session . I also try to get my 10k steps in daily. I try to eat under 1600 calories per day but most days I am in between 1200-1400.
I am open to any kind of tips from exercise/diet advice to any teas/supplements that might help.
Thanks in advance guys, and please be kind , this is my first time posting here on Reddit :D

How I Wonder What You Are by Al Bruno III

I’ll know the time is right when the howling begins. It will be after sundown of course, the Mothers and Fathers of Jebsen only scream after sundown, and only on the clearest of nights.
There is no town of Jebsen listed on any map, even in its heyday of the 1940’s it was too small to be worthy of notice. It’s nothing more than a collection of buildings at the end of a dead end road. On one side it is bordered by long untended corn fields, on the other the swampy remains of Lake Campbell. The most noticeable of the town’s buildings is a red brick edifice with a wide domed roof of fractured glass. The rest is just barns and single story homes. Along the border of the swamp is row after row of barbed wire and bear traps.
I’ll let them scream for an hour or so, let them become tired. Even now it amazes me how I had learned to pick out the individual voices in the cacophony. The Widow Toth tires easily but the Garrets will be at it until dawn.
And what will I be doing while every able-bodied adult is on the rooftops? I’ll be slipping these pages into this mason jar and sealing it lid in place with the wax from a melted crayon. The Children of Jebsen won’t miss just one, especially not purple.
Twenty-five years ago a calamity befell the town of Jebsen. The authorities blamed it all on the after effects of an experimental insecticide but the Old Book the town elders read from every Sunday said otherwise. It told the citizens of Jebsen that a curse was carried by those twinkling dots in the sky. A malevolence traveling at 186,000 miles per second that would twist their Children into nightmares should a glint of it ever touch their skin.
That is why they scream at the starlight; hating it, cursing it, raging at it.
You can’t see what their Children have become and not feel the same way. The changes are heartbreaking and horrifying all at once but after you spend time with them you feel differently. There is mockery in the mis-set eyes that peer from those mollified skulls.
They know secrets. On quiet, cloudy nights I would put my ear to one families’ basement door or another and hear them murmuring and giggling as they writhe in their basement styes.
I think of their weeping mouths and soft teeth and remember that day half a decade ago the ill-advised shortcut and along the neglected county route 99. I remember approaching the train bridge and seriously considering turning around, it looked decades out of repair and I half suspected it would collapse as I passed under it.
But I didn’t turn back, my ego wouldn’t let me. I was right and the road was wrong so I drove under the train bridge, momentarily marveling at the strange and elaborate graffiti that covered it.
I was just past the structure when a small, bent figure ran out from the long grass.
The sounds are what I really remember; the squeal of the brakes, the thud of the body on the hood of my car, the thick crack of laminated glass.
I would later learn the name of the child I had hit was Julius McCarty but all I knew then was that there was an emaciated, bloodied shape lying halfway through my windshield.
Human instinct made me reach out, to see if the little boy was alive. When my fingers brushed his skin he twisted around to face me. His mouth lashed out proboscis-like and nuzzled into the flesh of my arm.
Pain bristled out from where the boy had latched on to me. I screamed, thrashed. I shoved the car door open and tumbled out onto the asphalt. The boy coughed once and died.
At first the wound held all my attention. How could it not? I had expected to see torn flesh and blood but instead the boy’s distended mouth had left behind a cluster of thick, festering ulcerations.
But then I became aware of the men making their way out of the tall grass. These were the Fathers of Jebsen understood immediately what had happened.
They had brought everything they might need to bring one of their Children back home to its basement; rope, bandages and cudgels. It was also everything they needed to make a captive of me.
They, dragged me away from the accident site, through the tall grass and over the collapsed remains of a chain link fence to leave me in the care of the Mothers of Jebsen. Those gaunt women had cudgels of their own and I was a mass of bruises and welts by the time the hole in the Earth had been made to their standards.
The menfolk returned carrying the child wrapped in a linen shroud. They dropped it roughly into the ground. There were no ceremonies, tears or headstone. It was well after dark by the time I had filled the grave back in.
Now here it is years later and I’ve had to dig a dozen more graves, one by one the Mothers and Fathers are dying out, it’s always a surprise when it happens. Every mother and father of Jensen is withered and white haired but every year a few more die in their sleep, or at work in the fields or at prayer in their red brick observatory.
The Children are dying too, not a one has ever lived past seventeen. One by one they waste away, except of course for the occasional accident like the one that trapped me here.
Despite these curse that has befallen them the people of Jebsen continue to reproduce, each mother convinced that this time she will give birth to the Great Redeemer as was foretold in the Old Book. Each time they fail and each time the result is locked away in it’s family’s basement.
You can’t imagine those basements, the smell of rotten meat, the ankle deep fecal matter and the perfectly clean toys. They draw equations on the walls, gold and silver crayons are their preferred color. Every Tuesday I have to visit each of those cellars and scrub the theorems and postulations away.
The youngest of the Children is a newborn, still angry from the womb, the oldest is seventeen and nearly rotted away. No matter the age they all taunt me as I work, sometimes with bites, sometimes with maledictions. Both have left unimaginable scars.
So many scars now, I’m marked, I could never walk among the people I’d known before. They’d refuse to recognize me and insist I was a stranger
The Widow Thoth says this is my penance for the death of Julius McCarty, she even went so far as to cite chapter and verse on the subject from Old Book itself. The Mothers and Fathers of Jebsen, base every aspect of their lives on that thick volume of prophecies and homilies.
I wonder if anyone will notice me as leaving. I doubt it, even when they’re not screaming their heads off a long dead suns they barely notice my comings and goings.
As I said before, the Mothers and Father’s of Jebsen have become so sure of me. Some families think I’ve become a true believer, the rest think the cinder block chained to my ankle is enough to keep me in my place.
I don’t know who you are or when you’ll find this message. My only hope is that you will believe me. If you do, please bring this document to the proper authorities. Don’t let my death be for nothing.
I go to the bottom of the swamp with two regrets. One is that I won’t be there when the town of Jebsen is discovered and burned to the ground.
The other is that six months ago I accepted Father Garett’s invitation to join in their celebrations. I went willingly with them to the old brick observatory. I prayed with them. I danced with them. I partook in all of their debasements.
And for a little while, perhaps an hour, I was happy.
They even asked me to give reading from the Old Book. I eagerly stopped up to the podium and began flipping through the thick volume.
Everyone waited for me to choose a passage and speak but all I did was shake and weep at what I beheld. My knees buckled. My mind shut down. I had to be carried out and put to bed.
You see, the Old Book was blank from cover to cover. You’re even holding some of those pages in your hands now.
I used them to write my story.

I was just returning back from another interview. It has been the third one this month.
I failed to make the cut yet again.
Life hasn’t been easy for an ex-soldier with the economic downturn currently underway.
The COVID pandemic had also wiped out all my savings.
So I was open to securing any job that would help me pay my bills.
I hadn’t eaten all day and just passed by a McDonalds. It was crowded and I thought to myself, ‘Let me just order a takeout’.
I could see a few vehicles waiting in front of me.
There was a guy in his motorcycle honking incessantly demanding the customer in front to keep it moving.
He was a tall man with long hair and clearly looked edgy and irritable. Both his arms were heavily tattooed. He stepped down from his bike and started to walk towards the car in front of him.
I couldn’t make out what he way saying but I could see the conversation was getting heated.
I got down from my car and walked towards the biker guy.
As I got closer, the biker banged on the hood of the car and was pointing his finger at the man threateningly.
The guy in the car was looking a little alarmed. He had a young boy seated next to him.
The woman working at the driveway counter appealed to the biker to maintain his cool. He would hear none of it.
She then proceeded to call the police and this made the biker more irate. He snatched the receiver from her and hit her face with it. She fell backwards and started bleeding from the nose.
The biker then proceeded to turn his gaze towards the man in the car. He opened the door and dragged the guy outside.
He drew his hand back to throw a punch at him.
I caught his arm from behind and kicked him hard in the shins. He yelped in pain and let go of the other man.
He then turned back angrily to take a look at me. He was wearing a black jacket with the name Kenny embossed in front.
I said, “Listen Kenny. I have had a really bad day. So you either stop this madness or I am going to break your bones.”
He snarled and threw a punch at me with all his might. I swerved to the right and ducked just in time, causing him to miss completely.
Next, he whipped out a switch blade from his pocket and lunged towards me with it. I side stepped him and counterattacked with a punch to his plexus. He went down on one knee.
I caught hold of his knife arm and ordered him to drop it.
“Drop the knife kenny!! This is your last warning”, I repeated.
He started to fidget with his other arm around his shoe. I realized he had another weapon hidden in his sock.
So before he could attempt anything else, I twisted his forearm and landed a crushing blow to his elbow. It snapped into two and he lay on the floor yelping in pain.
By this point, other people came forward to intervene and help with the situation.
As Kenny was being led away by the police, he kept staring at me with madness in his eyes.
“I am coming back for you. This is going to be the biggest regret of your life”, he yelled.
I didn’t care and started going back to my car.
Then the man who was threatened by Kenny came forward and shook my hand.
“Hi. I am Rupert. That is my son Henry”, he said.
I waved my hand at the boy and he waved back.
“I would like to thank you for what you did for me back there”, he said.
“You not only helped me maintain my dignity but also helped me save face in front of my son”, he continued.
“This means a lot to me as a dad” he said.
I nodded in acknowledgement not sure what I was to add to the conversation.
He then reluctantly asked,” Is there anything I can do to repay the favour? Please feel free to ask . Anything. I would be most grateful.”
I thought for a moment. I could see the man was wealthy.
“If it’s not too much of an ask, I would appreciate a job if available. If you feel that is difficult, no problem. Forget I asked. No worries.” I said.
He smiled back at me warmly. He reached into his pocket and handed me a card.
“Please come to my office tomorrow. We can talk” he signed off.
From that moment on, I became the personal bodyguard and chaperone of his 8 year old son Henry. We immediately hit it off and became pals. I looked after all his son’s travelling arrangements.
We would also go to McDonalds every week for his favourite Burger and fries. I later learnt that his father was a very wealthy man who made most of his money during the dot com bubble.
I also became friends with the female employee at the driveway counter who had earlier been attacked by that biker punk Kenny.
Her name was Stella and it didn’t take very long for the two of us to start dating.
With a fulfilling job and a loving girlfriend by my side, my life was finally back on track. I couldn’t be happier.
And then one day - it all came crashing.
Henry and I as usual visited the McDonalds joint and I was surprised to see Stella missing at the counter.
I asked the staff about her and they said she hadn’t turned up today.
I thought that was weird. She had stayed over at my place and I saw her leave for work in the morning.
I tried calling her number but it was unreachable.
I dropped Henry at home and headed towards Stella’s apartment.
She had given me a spare key and I opened the door with it. Everything was in its place.
I tried her number again. It remained not reachable.
I decided to go back to my apartment to check if she might be there.
When I reached the door, I could see the lock had been smashed. The door was left slightly open.
I took out my side arm and slowly entered the apartment.
I could see a life size figure of Ronald McDonald the clown sitting on my sofa.
The famous mascot was sitting cross legged with one arm resting on the backrest. Just like how he likes to sit on benches outside McDonald outlets all across the world.
I was a little taken aback, but quickly switched on the lights to take a closer look.
As I moved closer, my knees buckled under my own weight.
It was Stella. She was the one who was dressed as the clown.
There were injury marks around her neck. She had been strangled to death.
I managed to call the cops while still reeling from the shock.
I also noticed her right hand which was resting on her thigh, was close fisted. When I pried it open, there was a crumpled piece of paper inside.
It read -
“She was really begging me for mercy.
Where was soldier boy when she needed him huh?
Boo Hoo….I’m Lovin It!!
I’m Lovin it!!
Signed Yours Kenny”
I could feel a surge of anger envelop me. And yet I lay there helpless.
Had it not been for the surveillance cameras at the entrance of my home, I would have been in jail by now.
The police could clearly see Kenny carrying Stella’s body and breaking into my apartment.
They put out a nationwide notice for Kenny and he’s been on the run ever since.
Even after 2 months following Stella’s death, the police were not any closer to catching the culprit.
But I did apprise Henry’s dad of the situation. His life was also at risk after considering what happened to my girlfriend.
But our collective worry was for Henry. We didn’t want to see him suffer for no fault of his.
So I started training Henry to take his own safety seriously. I devised multiple safeguards to keep him protected while being outdoors. Always ensured that I was personally there to drop and pick him up from school.
My boss appreciated all that I was doing for his son. He knew I had taken Stella’s death hard.
He was a generous and compassionate man and I liked working for him.
Although he did notice I wasn’t my usual cheery self anymore.
One day when I was waiting at the office, he tossed the keys of his new car at me.
“This should perk you up. Take her for a spin” he said.
“And also go pick Henry up from school”, he finished as he left for a meeting.
I got down to the parking lot, and there she was … waiting. The new Bugatti Chiron.
I opened the door and took the driver’s seat. The fresh smell of the leather upholstery was already lifting my spirits.
‘Boss was right! I am perking up’, I thought to myself.
I drove around the block and stopped by McDonalds to pick up the usual order for me and Henry.
I felt a tinge of sadness when I could no longer see Stella at the counter.
Anyways, I picked the order and started my way towards school.
As I went past the restaurant, I saw an old jeep parked by the side of the road. I didn’t think much of it at that moment.
When I reached Henry’s school, I parked the car a few feet away from the entrance. A couple of minutes later, I noticed the same jeep I saw at McDonalds go past me and park 20 mts in front.
I would have never given it a second glance had I not spotted it at the restaurant.
The jeep had 3 passengers. They looked like bikers with tattoos, beard and long hair.
And then there was Kenny standing behind a tree to avoid detection. But I spotted him.
He was gesturing towards them to get ready. I could see his Harley parked just a few feet away.
They were planning some kind of ambush.
The school bell rang and the children were already out on the streets.
I could see Henry at a distance in the courtyard. He was slowly making his way towards the gate.
I immediately called him on the phone and told him to go to the Principals office and stay there. I made it clear under no circumstances was he to venture out until I gave him the all clear. He understood.
He was safe as long as he was within the school’s premises.
The next thing to do was move to another location. The children were already pouring onto the streets, and the last thing I wanted was to see a child getting hurt.
I started the car and went past the jeep before taking the next turn. I kept driving.
Few moments later, the jeep caught up with me and the driver violently swerved towards the left causing me to go off course. My car came to halt.
The guys quickly alighted from the jeep and they were all armed to the teeth.
Kenny came in his motorcycle and stopped his bike a few feet ahead of me. He took out his shotgun and had it aimed straight at my chest.
The firing started before I even had the time to react.
I instinctively ducked for cover with my eyes closed.
But in my heart, I knew my time was up!!
As the seconds went by, even with all those bullets being sent my way - my body felt strangely light.
‘Am I in heaven already?’ I thought to myself.
I slowly opened my eyes and tilted my head upwards to take a peak.
And I realized I was sitting in an armoured bullet proof car.
The entire biker gang were mad with rage, doing everything possible to penetrate that thick armour plate.
Kenny was barking orders at his gang to continue the onslaught. He then pointed his finger at me and yelled, “I am coming for you.”
I looked down at the seat next to mine and saw the takeout I had ordered.
Just to piss him off even further, I took out my Big Mac and slowly took a big bite.
I sat there in gastronomic bliss savouring my burger, while being under a continuous hail of bullets.
The firing suddenly stopped. Kenny the psycho was livid as hell - to see me have a good time.
I looked him in the eye while I took a sip of my favourite milkshake.
And then, continued to chomp on my burger.
He looked a little crestfallen at how his plan was misfiring and then frantically gestured his troops to keep at it. The firing started again.
But it didn’t last long. They eventually all ran out of ammo and his buddies began to flee the scene, as we could hear sirens at a distance.
The attack had taken a toll on the car. But it managed to withstand all that damage. All that firing.
A life saver!
I looked at Kenny again. Only one thought was running through my head now.
‘My Turn’.
I switched on the ignition and rammed the car straight into Kenny. He hit the bonnet hard while the car continued to race forward.
He was clinging on to dear life with his outstretched hands desperately clutching at the sides of the car.
Next in the demolition line, was his prized Harley Davidson.
I hit it full steam and watched it smash to smithereens - with parts scattering all across the road.
Then, I hit the brakes and Kenny was sent flying 10 feet forward.
After impact, he slowly staggered to his feet - all bloody and bruised.
His face was swollen like an apple.
He was pleading towards me with folded hands to show him mercy.
‘This is for Stella. And She’s lovin it’, I said out loud.
I hit the accelerator again.

I don't think there's anything wrong with getting a L2 label, and I wouldn't be upset at all receiving a L2 label if I thought it was accurate. But I dislike the idea of being mislabeled, and misrepresenting myself and being part of the problem between the higher need and lower need communities.
I was diagnosed last year. I am a 34 year old woman who self-suspected for 15+ years.
I joined this sub when I received my level, because I was quite surprised and sceptical due to being sure that I'm high masking. I stayed because I love this space and learn so much from the people here.
When I expressed my confusion about the level, the doctor who diagnosed me said something about not liking to give firm labels and giving me the L2 label due to the diagnosis being so recent and my many years of masking and basically white knuckling it making it likely that I'd need a lot of help processing the diagnosis, mental health/service support, etc.
I'm in the US and I don't qualify (or feel the need) for disability. I was already seeing an ADHD therapist and an ADHD coach every other week, and I did increase the sessions, but I didn't need an official diagnosis to do this. So I guess, I'm not sure what the point of a "situational" label is, and I'm annoyed because one of my things is that I need things to be very clear and correctly labeled and this is very unclear and confusing.
It's probably not rational on my part, and maybe comes from internalized ableism, but I also feel like I was made to feel comfortable with unmasking during our session, so the way I was presenting was not accurate to how I usually present outside of home. I tend to rock a lot when I'm not masking and I feel that it's such a stereotype that she immediately checked a box in her head.
I can work full time and can do a lot of things that are very hard to do with higher support needs, so I feel like I always need to explain that I am L2 on the paper but actually that's wrong, because I don't want to misrepresent or trivialize other autistic people's experience. I know it's probably not a big deal in the grand scheme of things, but I find this really confusing.
Anyone received a level on paper but know that it's incorrect (either higher or lower than their actual level)?

Sustainable interior design brings a major impact on our environment, the material you use in every material contributes to the overall ecological footprint. But what if HSAA-Home interior design company helps you create a beautiful and stylish space that is dedicated to a greener home with an eco-friendly environment?
The role of sustainable interior design prioritizes eco-friendly design throughout the overall process. The main aim of our company is to maximize the environmental impact while keeping the comfort, functionality and aesthetics.
This term considers the complete life cycle of a product, from its creation to use and disposal or potential use.
Sustainability in interior design is to adopt ecological materials and sources to create a visually beautiful and considerate environment. By utilizing recycled, biodegradable, and waste materials, interior designers can include sustainability in their kitchens, living rooms, office spaces and more. For flooring, bamboo can be used in place of hardwood.

How you can implement eco-friendly design in your interior design journey:

• Reduce, Reuse and Recycle: These are the main aspects of interior design. Reuse the furniture and decor you already have to reduce the need for new purchases. Explore antique shops, flea markets, or online marketplaces to find a good alternative to previously owned items. Start prioritizing giving to new products that are manufactured from recycled materials such as bamboo, cork and old wood.
• Sustainable Materials: For good indoor air quality, choose natural, low-VOC (volatile organic compound) materials. The certifications such as GOTS (Global Organic Textile Standard) for textiles and FSC (Forest Stewardship Council) for wood items. Start picking eco-friendly methods like recycled glass countertops, cork tiles, or bamboo flooring.
• Water Conservation: Fit your bathroom and kitchen with water-saving fixtures. To cut down on water usage, choose good fixtures and low-flow shower heads. Choose the top kitchen renovation in Delhi for the best services to maintain your kitchen.
• Make the right consumption: Avoid impulsive buys and make long-lasting investments in high-quality, well-made items. This helps in less waste and encourages more deliberate consumption. Select furniture with classic styles and muted color schemes to increase its adaptability.

Why Is Sustainable Design Important for Interior Design?

HSAA- The best interior designers in Delhi describe how important it is to protect the environment. Minimizing environmental problems also reduces the aftermath on Earth by saving time, money, and effort. It ensures efficiency and creates a healthy approach to environmental interior design while satisfying clients.
Now you understand the importance and principles, let’s dive into practical solutions to translate them into stunning and sustainable living spaces.

1. Natural Light’s Power:

Optimize natural light by maintaining hygiene and clean windows. Organize furniture in such a manner that it doesn’t obstruct the sun. Start using translucent shades or drapes to preserve seclusion while letting in diffused light. Use well-placed mirrors to reflect more light from the outside which makes the space feel lighter and more spacious. As a result, less artificial lighting is needed during the day.

2. Embrace the natural Plantation:

Indoor plants not only add a touch of positivity and serenity to your space but also contribute to a healthier environment. Plants and greenery are present as natural air purifiers that help in absorbing toxins and releasing oxygen. A variety of species are known for their air-purifying qualities, such as snake plants, spider plants, and more. This will help in providing sustainable interior design to your space.

3. Reuse and Repurpose:

Give old furniture and décor a new look by opting for the method of reuse and recycling. Upcycle vintage suitcases into beautiful side tables or ottomans that create a pleasant look to your old space. Book the best interior design services in Delhi and Transform your space into something beautiful that tells a story.
Get creative and explore online tutorials for DIY home decor by using old materials. Not only will you save money, but you’ll also minimize waste and create unique pieces with a personal touch.

4. Sustainable Textiles and Flooring:

Choose natural fibers like organic cotton, linen, wool, or jute for rugs, throws, and more. All the 2BHK and 3BHK flats’ interior designs utilize sustainable textiles and flooring concepts for long-term commitment and a healthy lifestyle. These materials are not only comfortable but also biodegradable. Discover recycled wool rugs or sisal floor coverings for sustainable flooring options.

5. Energy-structured Appliances:

When you are looking to replace appliances, pick out Energy Star-certified models that are dedicated to being more energy-efficient. This reduces your overall energy consumption and helps save money on high-cost bills.

6. Choose Eco-friendly Products:

Ordinary cleaning products usually contain harsh chemicals that can pollute the air and water. Switch to eco-friendly cleaning solutions made from natural ingredients like vinegar, baking soda, and essential oils. These are not only safe for your health but also work best for the environment.

7. Go for sustainable smart technology :

Home interior design companies in Delhi play a significant role in eco-friendly living. Invest in smart technology to control your home’s temperature remotely that helps in preventing unnecessary energy use. Smart power technology can automatically cut power to electronics when not in use.

8. Water-Saving Methods:

Install low-flow showers and other bathroom fixtures to reduce water consumption without wasting water pressure. Think about installing a water-efficient toilet as well.

Benefits of Eco- friendly interior design

By accommodating eco-friendly designs and creations, you’re not only creating a beautiful and stylish home but also providing a vast list of benefits:

• Reduced Environmental Impact: Using sustainable and eco-friendly designs helps minimize your high bills and conserve resources for future generations.
• Improved Indoor Air Quality: Eco-friendly materials and sustainable products promote healthier indoor air and hygiene and reduce harmful chemicals.
• Enhanced Well-being: High access to natural light, plants, and natural materials can contribute to a more relaxing and positive living environment.
• Cost Savings: Energy systematic appliances can help in saving bills.
• Uniqueness: Reuse and repurposed pieces along with a focus on natural materials create a more individual and spacious filled space.

Why is sustainability so important in interior design?

Sustainability in interior design is about creating beautiful and functional spaces, but also environmentally friendly and healthy. Here’s why it’s important:
Environmental Impact:
The construction and furnishing industry has a major impact on the environment. Sustainable eco-friendly designs mainly aim to reduce this impact by using recycled materials, minimizing waste, and conserving the best resources. This can involve using locally sourced materials, opting for energy-structured appliances, and accommodating natural lighting.
Long-Term Value: Sustainable eco-friendly materials are often chosen for their durability and long-term commitment. This means they will last longer, require less replacement and save money. Additionally, sustainable design can help to improve energy efficiency leading to lower bills.
Huge Client Demand:
As people become more aware of environmental issues, there’s a high-rise demand for sustainable design and eco-friendly interior products.
What differentiates sustainable design from green design?
The objective of green design is to lessen the negative effects of cement buildings, electricity, and household appliances. Sustainability has a major influence on interior design because it makes energy-efficient infrastructure possible.
On the other hand, The focus of sustainable design is mostly on the structure itself, utilizing reusable elements like glass and stone to create a long-lasting impact. Contemporary interior designers utilize computer- technologies such as BIM and AR to attain sustainable eco-friendly designs, particularly in large-scale projects.
Inspiration and Resources for Your Eco-Friendly Journey
HSAA guides you on your eco-friendly design journey. Here are a few suggestions:
Online Marketplaces: Explore online platforms like Etsy or Amazon to find unique, vintage, or upcycled furniture and décor pieces.
Sustainable Design Magazines and Websites: Check out publications dedicated to sustainable living and eco-friendly design. These resources offer stunning methods, practical tips, and insights from interior design professionals.
Sustainable Furniture Brands: Explore furniture brands committed to sustainable methods and ethical manufacturing. Many brands offer beautifully crafted pieces using recycled materials or local, responsibly sourced wood.
To sum up, Eco-friendly interior design is not about changing style or comfort. It’s about creating designs in such a way that helps both nature and humans. By choosing sustainable designs and eco-friendly materials, you can create a beautiful, healthy living space for a sustainable future.
Let recycling methods help you in the journey of sustainable interior design and remember, small steps can lead to ultimate change. With a little planning and effort, you can create a comfortable and stylish home that is helpful to the environment

Hi everyone
I am a 21 year old student who was in a 3 year relationship that ended abruptly two days ago.
Our relationship began in highschool and got off to a rocky start when everyone around me started gossiping about her cheating on her ex. I grew up in a household with a single mom who had been cheated on every single relationship. So I was deathly afraid of this happening to me. After months we came up with this agreement that we’d update eachother on snapchat whenever we were apart. And because we missed eachother we would also call at night when we slept.
After all those years this turned into what I think was my crutch to keep my fears away. The snapchats turned away from occasional talking to full day surveillance. The calling turned into a necessity, all day if we were apart, during showers etc. Whenever I saw something that set alight my paranoia I got extremely combative. For example if she hadnt sent a snap in an hour from the other, i would become afraid and fully believe that there was something going on. This then turned into me saying things like “if you treat me like this I wont be able to continue our relationship”. I now look at this and see that it is a threat of me leaving unless she did what i said. I saw it as me enforcing my boundaries and it seemed normal.
She also expected calls from me and would also get upset if I didnt update well, so I thought that this was just how we did things, every relationship had something weird or unhealthy they had to work on in my eyes. When I went to work she recorded herself so i could surveil what she did, and I was somehow so blind to how fucked up that is. And i sought therapy in those two years but had extreme difficulties in finding a psychologist. So these issues remained.
A couple of days ago, while she had a hard week with college, she broke down about everything to a friends mom. Who then informed her parents. While we were discussing the distribution of chores around our appartement, we were living together for 2 years now, her parents stormed in and scolded me for being a controlling manipulator. The dad got very verbal and the mother said something akin to “i dont know how i havent seen that my daughter was so unhappy here”. It blew me away, i never thought she was unhappy as we were having fun just the evening beforehand.
Now they keep her away from me and are blocking my number, telling her that my controlling behaviour outweighed any of the good i did. Like helping her out of cutting herself and abusing alcohol. They check her phone to see if she doesnt message me.
After they left I looked up if I was an abuser, and i can certainly see that i did things on the lists being unaware of what I was doing. I called helplines and spoke to as many people i could to help me and figured that i needed instant care. I will now have a team of psychiatrists and psychologists visit 3 times a week and will be admitted to a facility sometime in the future.
I do not want to be an abuser, and she wants to stay in contact but work on ourselves separately, i agree and i want to be better for myself. But i dont know how i feel with them keeping her locked down like this. its healthy for them to keep her away. But no contact entirely when I really want to change, i cannot fight to redeem myself it seems to me.
Am I a lost cause? Did I lose the best person in my life?
TL:DR: I made my girlfriend snapchat update me throughout the day as many times as she could and whenever she could. We called whenever we could, this meant also during showers or whatever private moment. I thought that us agreeing to this meant that was a ‘relationship rule’ that we both enforced. I thought that her also showing a same need for me to be available for a call when I showered or that I also update when I left that it was okay. Somehow I only see how fucked up this was now and feel extremely guilty and clueless as to how the darkest parts of me got me to lose her. Her parents found out and now she has been taken away.

This is the official episode discussion thread for S7-E14, Young Sheldon: ”Memoir”
Do note that there are two parts for today's airing. You are viewing part 2 of 2.
First Aired: May 16th, 2024
Vanity Card: 743
Synopsis: No information available
If you’ve missed the live airing of this episode, episodes will be made available for streaming on [Paramount+](paramountplus.com) the following day. These episodes are typically made available to Paramount+ around midnight, ET. Availability of these episodes may vary from region to region.
PSA: Do not post links to, or request ways to view this or any episode of Young Sheldon from unethical/unauthorised sources. ONLY WATCH SHOWS FROM LICENCED BROADCASTERS AND STREAMING SERVICES. Such behaviour does not facilitate discussions of the episodes and instead introduces clutter into the thread. You may discuss where to watch the show in the designated “Where To Watch” sticky thread which can be found here.
If you are viewing Young Sheldon from outside the United States, please check with the TV network servicing your area for availability for the show. You may also refer to your local network’s website for more information on where to watch episodes of Young Sheldon.
Notice: Please keep all discussions of this episode to this thread for the next 48 hours. Any other episode discussion posts created before the 48-hour cooldown is subject to removal.
Previous episode: S7 E11, E12 -A Little Snip and Teaching Old Dogs & A New Home and a Traditional Texas Torture
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Almost one month
Almost one month into the talking stage, we had our fourth meet-up, and he was the first guy I brought to church. I know meeting you made me feel easygoing, but at that time, I just felt comfortable and not afraid at all. I should have been more careful because I knew you would leave soon since we both knew each other so well. I wasn't sure, but I still gave you a chance. I don’t know what happened to me. The me I knew was not the same when we were together. I let you touch me, and I know I wasn’t thinking straight, but I just went with the flow. I felt like you were manipulating me, but at the back of my mind, I thought I was old, I had been waiting for so long, and I deserved to enjoy myself a little bit. During our second meet-up, he asked if he could court me. Of course, I knew he wasn't serious. Like, seriously? How can you like someone you barely know? But again, I let him, and I said yes. I guess I was just as foolish as other girls, letting it slide and enjoying the moment. When he kissed me on the lips, I thought my first kiss would be romantic, but I felt nothing—not even butterflies. 😔 However, I was quite happy when we were together for a while. I forgot about my reality. When we were together, I was the listener, and he was the talker. It was odd because when I get comfortable, I am the one who talks a lot. But when we were together, I limited my talking and always listened to him. Maybe that’s why he got bored. He admitted it, but maybe I was just careful about what I might say or afraid he would get bored if I talked about things he wasn’t involved in. I was so careful because a part of me didn’t want to make mistakes. Little did I know, I was losing him little by little.
I also prayed if this man had good intentions, please let him stay, but I guess God is a good listener. He listened and removed this guy from my life. It was almost one month but not quite. I felt like I liked him, but I guess he was not the right one for me. This is what I’m feeling right now. Maybe I was just lonely. I guess this time is not for me. Maybe God knows I am not yet ready. Maybe I need to focus on myself first. Maybe that’s what He wants. I just hope that one day, if I meet someone again, he will be sure about me because it’s so sad thinking I might be just an option. He was my first guy, yet not the first guy I thought of in a romantic way.
Goodbye.

Why did the farmer visit the pharmacy? To speak with the farm-assist.
Hi and welcome to my post! Wanted to start off with a funny to me dad joke.
Nice to meet you, I'm Dylan! To put it simple, I am a single 22 year old man who has been pretty lonely in life and lacking in female connection and interaction. And part of what comes with that is the desire to be intimate with a person. I am very mature for my age and will always be respectful of your boundaries and feelings, especially with anything sexual. Lately all I have is myself when it comes to sexual desires, so I would like to have someone to keep company with in that regard too.
I'm just relaxing in bed before work and burning a woodwick candle. Perfect for when there's a storm outside. I love candles! 🕯️ Sometimes a campfire outside on a fall night or a crackling WoodWick candle is a relaxing constant among our busy and hectic world. It's nice to just disconnect, feel grounded and happy in your own little cozy space. Feeling calm and collected and at peace. Something that fewer people take the time to do these days.
I am seeking a woman around my age or older to build a close connection with that could possibly lead to a relationship and something intimate which includes the possibility of teasing/sharing pics etc. but only when we were comfortable. Figured I would be open in my Intentions as that's the best way to be.
You:
Kind, respectful, and easy going.
Comfortable with the idea of eventually sharing intimate things together.
Willing to eventually move off of Reddit.
Want something genuine and fun!
Are honest in your intentions and a good person to be around!
That's about it, we will get along great I know it.
I've been feeling a little bummed out lately. I always try and stay happy and see the best in things. But.. I've just been so alone. Most of my whole childhood and adult years have been spent feeling lonely. I grew up surrounded by cornfields which was peaceful but also has a lonely aspect to it. My family never really were close and never did anything as a family really. And part of it too is the fact that I never had any neighbors my age to interact with. But aside from that, my adult life has been very lonely. I'm just always by myself. I barely have any meaningful adult relationships or experiences, or even any friends.
I work a 3-11 job in building maintenance at my company world headquarters building which I love, but again it's very lonely. I work the off shift so the building is always empty. I don't get normal social interaction with people my age or a chance to build relationships. I only have 3 older men as co-workers and we are mostly in the basement away from any people on the floors from knowing our existence. I always walk the floors and see office people laughing and chatting with their coworkers and I just don't have that kind of experience. And just.. no one knows I exist really. Everyone probably assumes I have a lot of friends, but I'm struggling inside with being so alone and trying to meet people and get past the "hi how are you?" "I'm good thanks" stage. Most people don't seem to want to talk beyond that. And most women are already in relationships and thus it would seem weird to approach them in an office setting trying to get to know them deeper. But man those "hi how are yous" are the only real interactions I get during my day.. so thus I decided to come here lol. Rant over, sorry! I promise I'm not a downer. 😅
Now for some things about me!
As you can tell, I am very mature for my age and am polite and have good grammar which unfortunately not everyone my age does anymore lol. I am not active at all on social media/internet culture really and don't know much about all the slang the younger people these days use. I feel like I'm 50. 🤣
I am left handed which is pretty cool. I'm not much of a party person or a drinker, I much prefer a quiet night at home and maybe a beer or two on a weekend but that's about it. I am simple and stay out of drama and trouble and don't get much into politics or other things that cause drama with people. I much prefer a relaxing campfire and a night at home and to just let the world keep on turning haha. I consider myself pretty intelligent and mature, especially for my age which is why I'm open to older ladies.
Physically I'm 180 pounds, have brown hair, green eyes, and a typical build. There's a few pictures on my profile.
Some of my hobbies are:
• Photography
I have a Nikon D200 and D5500 that I love to shoot with. I love nature scenes, abstract, black and white/goth kinda photography, sunsets, etc. it's so fun to just let your mind explore. It's not about what camera you have, but those who are behind the camera! I'm gonna try and photograph the northern lights tonight!
• Cooking and baking
I loveeee to cook and bake! I enjoy making various meals but also love to just have a frozen pizza once in awhile or something like that. I recently made homemade chili which turned out great. I love to bake, especially in the fall! I love pies, cakes, pastries, cookies, etc. I restored a vintage KitchenAid mixer that needed tbe gearbox rebuilt. Eventually I would love to practice home canning my own food.
• Music
Oh my gosh, I like so much!! Alternative rock, punk, post punk, electronic, synth pop, psychedelic rock, hard rock, etc. I am very non judgemental and open when it comes to music. My three current favorite bands are Type O Negative, Joy Division, and the Cure.
• Nature walks and camping
I really enjoy camping, making fires, and relaxing by a campfire. I love to take walks outside and just enjoy the beauty and simplicity of nature. It's wonderful, especially in a world so focused on everything digital.
• Repairing things
I'm a maintenance guy and one of my hobbies is electronics repair so I am good with my hands and just all around good at troubleshooting and fixing all sorts of things around the house. Last week I helped my elderly neighbor get his tractor started, it needed a new component in the starting circuit. So I'm pretty handy which... Comes in handy! 😂
• Autumn 🍁
This isn't a hobby per say, but man do I love the fall!!! It's my absolute favorite time of the year. Oh my gosh. The beautiful colors, crisp cool air, misty and foggy days, rain, lack of bugs, being cuddled up with a candle or by the fire drinking a tea, etc. I love it! There's only two seasons for me. Fall, and waiting for fall! Haha.
• Scented Candles and incense
Going along with my love for fall, I absolutely love candles! I have like 30 something lol. 😂 Currently my favorite are WoodWick, which are owned by Yankee candle. They have such a soothing crackle and the scents are great! I also love to burn incense from time to time as well. I have cottagecore hippie vibes.
• Old houses and architecture
I love old houses! Especially 1900s and Victorian era homes. Old homes have so much character to them and are just so beautiful from a time when people took pride in their craft. I strongly dislike the modern cookie cutter cheap construction of homes today. I would love to live in an old home one day. I also love their architecture and uniqueness, as well as architecture of old cathedrals and other buildings.
• Relaxing
Basic I know, but sometimes on the weekend I just love to get cozy in bed and relax and put on a YouTube video or an album! 😊
That's about it for me, I'm a pretty laid back and simple person. My ideal person is someone who is respectful and honest! I am very straightforward and open minded and would hope that you are as well.
If I seem interesting to you at all I would love to hear from you!
Thank you so much for reading.

This is the official episode discussion thread for S7-E13, Young Sheldon: ”Funeral”
Do note that there are two parts for today's airing. You are viewing part 1 of 2.
First Aired: May 16th, 2024
Vanity Card: 743
Synopsis: No information available
If you’ve missed the live airing of this episode, episodes will be made available for streaming on [Paramount+](paramountplus.com) the following day. These episodes are typically made available to Paramount+ around midnight, ET. Availability of these episodes may vary from region to region.
PSA: Do not post links to, or request ways to view this or any episode of Young Sheldon from unethical/unauthorised sources. ONLY WATCH SHOWS FROM LICENCED BROADCASTERS AND STREAMING SERVICES. Such behaviour does not facilitate discussions of the episodes and instead introduces clutter into the thread. You may discuss where to watch the show in the designated “Where To Watch” sticky thread which can be found here.
If you are viewing Young Sheldon from outside the United States, please check with the TV network servicing your area for availability for the show. You may also refer to your local network’s website for more information on where to watch episodes of Young Sheldon.
Notice: Please keep all discussions of this episode to this thread for the next 48 hours. Any other episode discussion posts created before the 48-hour cooldown is subject to removal.
Previous episode: S7 E11, E12 -A Little Snip and Teaching Old Dogs & A New Home and a Traditional Texas Torture
Announcement: With the official conclusion of the show, this subreddit will permanently cease official episode discussions. We ask you to head to the subreddit for the new spin-off, GeorgieandMandyTVShow for new content. See you there!

I 20F had 2 best friends (21F called Kali and 20F Sally) for 2 years which we met in college. Beginning of last year we all planned to go on a holiday but for person reasons we didn’t get to go and only Sally and her other friends were able to go. Kali felt pressured on going to the trip by Sally as Kali wasn’t financially stabled as I was only going because Kali wanted to celebrate her birthday in Morocco. Sally and Kali fell out while I was in the middle of them which made things weird and awkward until Kali had been hospitalised and Sally was asking Kali for the money for her phone contract. Back story Sally made a phone contract for Kali to get her a phone because Kali wasn’t able to get the phone and Kali paid the phone plus Kali borrowed money from Sally when needed. Kali got hospitalised from April last year and the fall out happened middle of March.
While Kali was hospitalised Sally asked for the money knowing she wasn’t in best shape of form which cause me to getting involved because someone couldn’t be so heartless knowing someone is hospitalised and asking them for the money knowing she couldn’t send it. Me and Sally go into an argument and fell out as well. We went weeks without speaking until I figured I shouldn’t have gotten involved and wanted to patch things up with Sally and spoke to her middle of May 2023. I spoken before hand with Kali and told her I was going to speak to Sally about the friendship, after me and Sally spoke I called Kali and told her that me and Sally were cool but not how we were before which made Kali feel some type of way.
Me and Kali met up a week after and spoke in which she told me everything she that bothered her besides rekindling the friendship with Sally which showed me she bottled things up from relationships and friendships issues we had in the past which left me quite confused and shocked. I’m to myself and doesn’t open up about stuff and keep myself to myself so when Kali was asking me about stuff and asking me why Im like that I had no explanation that’s just the way I was grew up. We had a conversation in which Kali mentioned she wanted to have a break from the friendship and I respected, that’s until I heard from others that she’s been telling other people that we weren’t friends even our teacher that we weren’t friends anymore which confused me but I respected and let her be. While that was happening me and Sally’s friendship were improving but still not as close as we were, still went out together and been there for one another but wasn’t as strong as before.
December of 2023 new year comes around me and Sally and 2 of our friends went out for dinner that’s when Kali left me a sweet message which made realise that I did indeed miss her and wished things went different. Kali also texted me on my birthday and my mum as well. Best if I mention that Kali and my mum also have a good relationship as me and my mum helped Kali when she needed and she also helped us when we needed so for that my mum has a deep love connection with Kali and also wished my mum happy Mother’s Day.
Here’s my issues now my sisters birthday is coming up and my mum invited Kali and I mention is to Sally and she asked me to ask Kali for the phone back and her money back but I refused because personally I don’t want to get involved in their issues anymore as I don’t to make it seem like I’m starting issues with Kali for Sally’s sake.
That’s when Sally throughs the “if you were my friend you would do it” personally I think everyone is old enough to fight for the battle and Sally should of found a way to text Kali about the phone situation and the money that Kali still hasn’t given it back. Plus she’s mad at me because I didn’t invite her to my sisters birthday but I don’t invite any of my friends to a family function but that’s just how I am and now she claims I should change just how Kali wanted me to change. So me and Sally stopped being friends. So AITHA for wanting peace over issues that doesn’t concern me?
Edit: Me and Kali started being friends on the first day of college (2020) it was like friendship at first sight. From there onwards we became very closed, had lessons together and created a very strong and close bond. To the point when you see her you see me and if not people would start asking. Me and Kali met Sally and her other friend at the end of 2021 at college as well and the bond was strong as well but not as much and mine and Kali’s were.

So it's fair to say that skins aren't distributed evenly with Atlas having less skins (no matter what metric yoy use) than Rei who's existed for dramatically less time than him, so what makes a skin viable to developers?
In general there's 3 big metrics other elements do come into play occasionally and I'll talk about that later, but the big ones are as follow:

This is your TLDR as well as the image sumise what you will, be angry at the devs for not giving Dredge a skin.

Concept

Popularity

Complexity

Concept

Certainly it comes as no surprise that having an idea for skins are more important than just about anything else, if there's a will there's a way and the biggest thing is there's even concept of a skin it's hard to slam say Androxus into something new without some sort of idea of what you want.
Of course they still do this for champions and their first skins, which is how you end up with stuff like Pirate Io, and fish Saati, of course at varying levels of success, at the same time a champion might not need a entirely new concept as their first skin, take for example Imani who's steelforged skins come from one of her concept designs, and so fits rather well, the same with Azaan and his only skin Dark Drake.
Of course some champions skins come naturally to, a cool ass flying guy, with a revolver, a pertinence for punching, and some magic barrier? Well you can reflavor all that surprisingly easy, let me do it right now: Ghost pirate captain with water powers, Revenant cowboy using dustdevil magic, Jet boots wearing cyberpunk Bounty Hunter, Psychic gun weilder using basically PI powers, Bootleg revolver ocelot with ghost powers, Witchking ripoff, Detective of some form, cursed living gun controlling someone, Hellrider knockoff, Hellboy knockoff
That's just after 5 minutes. But the same can't be said for Barik, you see Barik is a dwarf, with rocket boots, and turrets, and a shield all of this is rather high tech which means sometimes it doesn't naturally mesh well with certain aesthetics. And the ideas that come with him have either been made already here or on Paladins Strike. The issue with Barik is he's kind of pigeonholed into a specific role being dwarf, something needs to work with this or needs to be at least not jarring, this mixed with his meh popularity, and apparently his animation rigs are fucked up it makes making a skin for him kind of a perfect nightmare if it weren't for the fact it'd look cheap I'd have put him in all 3 "issue" slots.
The one idea I could come up with for Barik is space dwarf, which can be recoloured for any other flavor of futurism, otherwise the rest are just more flavors of what Barik already is.

Popularity

Naturally popularity of a character will do well to help any skins they have sell, so even if the devs don't have a idea, these characters can be tied up with the Meta, accomodating a gaming demographic, or just has a history of successful skins because while Imani is definitely complex to make skins for, and some of the ideas they pull are far fetched to say the least, they do seem to manage to sell rather well even against her own personal popularity being mediocre until recently.
Certain characters also get squandered because relativism, a few characters to be unable to outpreform or match selling value their peak skins (Pepper for Pip), and the inverse happens more often where a character just has a Dumpster tornado fire of a skin (Think Sugar Plum Willo) there's also just characters who've started to exhaust the amount of themes they can run, or have concepts that only work as one shot skins, not everyone fits cuddley for example. So the devs wait to pair these skins up.
Of course on the other end of things there's characters like Cassie and Sha Lin who are just a bit boring gameplay wise to wow people with skins, like yeah you just shoot more, or differently, Cassie still manages a odd end skin, but both lack the dramatic scale of Imani or Bomb King or the whole feeling of something like Tyra, Viktor, Vivian aka"The Gunners" Which might make for a topic of it's own but avoiding a tangent let's continue.
Sometimes characters could easily nail concepts, and aren't even complicated Torvald, Octavia, and Atlas. Torvald is a goofy old guy there's very few power fantasies you get with him, but if they managed to keep making more "cool" skins like the Barbarian and Revenant recolour he could do well.
Octavia is kind of a oddball she should be popular but she's first of all too complicated for new players to latch onto her like they can for the others, and unlike Torvald she's not particularly meta or really needed for any comp in any sense.
And finally, Atlas is just not popular, and that's because he's clunky and he's hard, and unlike say Evie, or even his offtank peirs he's not really doing montage worthy plays, or clipable plays outside of bullying someone, which is really not hard and is easily replicatable for most people while the actual meat of the kit is the hard part, it's like doing accurate midevil nail blacksmithing, it's a dying art without any of the flashiness. And if nothing else Atlas is so unpopular I couldn't find a non gold version of his model online without a background.

Complexity

Sometimes a character's base animations are just too complicated for the returns the less moving parts and complexity attached to a champion the easier it is just to slap a skin on them, in relativity that is.
Viktor is a guy with 5 parts and some move some don't, the guy, the gun, the magazine, binoculars, and a Grenade, and really the magazine, Grenade, and Binoculars don't move in too complex ways if at all. But we can get even simpler even faster, Rei has no weapon instead a crap ton of particle effects that they put more effort into to justify Of course Lian is pretty simple like very simple, like so so simple it's not funny I mean to the point they remove her complex bits and she doesn't even need animation on a few of her guns just some slightly different glowing particle beams.
On the other end we have Dredge, Moji, and Willo, with them mentioning multiple times now they're often with multiple high detail bones, and rigs for their weapons and themselves, of course it seems that Willo has forsaken overcomplicating her weapon too much in favor of making them static in full or in part, compared to the moving flower, but she still has the wing going on which also moves dramatically differently, of course with Will.0 and the Yellow Jacket Recolour they feel more confident in not overdoing these complex details when making her skins when they consider making skins for her since she is noticably more popular now.

Extra Reasons for skins to be received.

Sometimes when crossovers come in you get people, real people who want to make sure they're represented in ways they like so they choose who they like, or characters from other media like RWBY where they more or less just naturally fit with a champion via weapons or abilities, that's why Chase was layered over Viktor.
Sometimes skins come from extra assets being made, such as the two fake bomb kings or the Cultist Vatu skin which more or less just comes from the ease of needing a base model to use for animations.

There are some kinds of wisdom only great suffering can bring. I remember my time in the Bardo with this in mind, for otherwise, the memory might drive me insane.
The night my heart stopped for nearly three minutes started off normally enough. I was working as a nurse in the psychiatric ward at a hospital in the state’s capital. Most of the patients there were harmless, mostly just suicide attempts or people suffering from drug psychosis or severe depression, but some were actively dangerous and certainly psychopathic in every sense of the word. The new admission was one of these- a three-hundred pound black man with a long history of smoking PCP, schizophrenia and violent, psychotic breaks from reality.
His eyes looked like flat pieces of slate as I walked in for my shift. They looked as blank and emotionless as the eyes of a doll. He sat at the table in the front room where the patients ate or played cards, alone under the bright fluorescent lights of the hospital. I walked to the station, where another psychiatric nurse named Ricardo was sitting behind the desk.
“What’s the deal with the new guy?” I asked him. Ricardo looked up, his dark Spanish face forming into a deep scowl. He ran his fingers through his jet-black hair nervously.
“He’s trouble, man,” he said in a crisp accent. “He got in a chase with the police and then punched some cops in the face. It took three guys to take him down, even after he got maced and tased. The judge sent him here on a temporary court order, since he claims he’s been getting chased by Nazis in UFOs, and that’s why he ran from the cops. He thought the cops in their uniforms were actually the SS, and the helicopters were alien spacecraft, or something. I don’t know, I didn’t listen to the whole story.”
“You have his file?” I asked. Ricardo leafed through a stack of folders with his thin fingers, snatching one out and handing it to me. I looked down, reading the information:
“Jeremiah Brown, black male, 37-years-old.
“History: Polysubstance abuse, schizophrenia, antisocial personality disorder.
“Psychiatrist’s note: This patient has scored a 36 out of 40 on the Hare Psychopathy Checklist. While I am always hesitant to label a patient as an antisocial personality, a combination of factors has made it essential for this patient.
“Patient has an extensive criminal history as well as a lengthy history of involuntary psychiatric admissions. He has been diagnosed as having antisocial traits since he was a young teenager. Patient has a long history of violence and suicide attempts. He has a history of imprisonment for manslaughter, armed robbery, grand theft and aggravated assault. Upon discharge, he refuses to take any antipsychotic medication, citing the side effects as the reason. Long-term prognosis is poor…”
I had not been sleeping well the past few weeks. I rubbed my eyes as I read through the file, feeling exhausted. I tried putting on lucid dreaming or meditation music from YouTube to help me sleep, but whenever I closed my eyes, I saw horrible things: chalk-white female faces whose lips were cut into an insane rictus grin, flicking their heads violently from side to side and gnashing their fangs at the air. I had a feeling that many years of constantly watching horror movies and serial killer documentaries was catching up with me.
As I read through the file, a student nurse came around the corner wearing a white state university outfit and a name tag that said Kaitlyn. I looked up, seeing Ricardo wink at me from where he was sitting in his chair behind the main desk.
“She’s going to follow you,” he said. Inwardly, I groaned, but I managed to force a smile.
“Oh, great!” I said. She looked like she was probably no older than nineteen or twenty. She had a pretty body, but her face looked strange. All the angles were too sharp and her nose too large. I knew the patients here wouldn’t care, though. They would hit on anything. I sensed trouble. I looked down at my watch.
“Well, I’m Jay, and you already know Ricardo, I guess. It’s good timing, because we need to give medications every day at 9 PM. And we have a new patient, so we can introduce ourselves,” I said, giving her a faint smile.
“That’s exciting!” Kaitlyn whispered. I wanted to roll my eyes. It was definitely not exciting.
I motioned her to follow me as I made my way to the medication room, which was really just a large closet off of the main day room. I had to enter my code on a keypad, and then, once inside, enter it again along with the patient’s number and date of birth. The correct drawers for the medication in each specific dose would fly open, making it extremely hard for the wrong medications or doses to be given, unless it was done intentionally.
“OK, so for this patient, we need Haldol, Ativan and…” I began saying to Kaitlyn when the yelling started. It came out faintly, rising in volume and anger within seconds. I heard Ricardo’s Spanish voice, filled with panic. Something slammed hard against a wall, once, twice, three times, and then I heard the sound of glass breaking. I jumped, spinning around, but I couldn’t see much through the small, shatter-proof glass pane on the wooden door.
“Stay here,” I commanded, seeing Kaitlyn’s eyes widen, her freckled skin looking much paler than when we had first come in. “Don’t leave until I come back and say that it’s safe.” On the speakers strung throughout the hospital, I heard the first of the warnings echo out around us.
“Doctor Strong, Doctor Strong, please report to the seventh floor,” a robotic female voice said calmly, using the code for when a patient had to be subdued by force. I pushed the door open, slamming it shut behind me so that the lock would activate and protect Kaitlyn from whatever chaos was going on.
I heard Ricardo pleading with someone at the end of the hallway that ran past the main desk. He sounded strange, as if he were trying to talk through a mouthful of blood. Huddled behind the main computer, I saw one of the CNAs frantically whispering something in the phone. She must have been the one to call the Dr. Strong order.
“You don’t have to do this, man,” Ricardo gurgled faintly. I couldn’t see what was happening, as Jeremiah’s large body was blocking my view. I could see that the thick glass window at the end of the hallway was broken, however. My heart skipped a beat as I surmised what was likely happening.
I sprinted forward as quietly as I could, but the large man heard me. His massive body turned, his flat, dead eyes scanning me with absolute coldness and calm. I saw he had a bleeding Ricardo in his hands. Ricardo’s back and head were covered in deep cuts and shards of glass. He must have used Ricardo’s body as a battering ram to break the thick glass window. Jeremiah held Ricardo suspended halfway out the window, seven floors above the concrete walkways far below.
“Stay back, or this fucker will know what it feels like to fly,” Jeremiah said in a deep, gravelly voice. He shook Ricardo for emphasis, sending his head snapping back and forth with painful cracking sounds. Drops of blood flew from his nose and a deep gash across his cheek. Pieces of shattered glass littered the carpet, shining like countless tiny stars.
I put my hands up, taking a step back. Far behind me, I heard the front door for the psychiatric ward open. Voices echoed down the hall. Knowing that reinforcements were coming, I tried to buy some time.
“Let’s talk about this,” I said, taking a step forward slowly. “You don’t want a murder charge, do you? You’ll never see the sky again.”
“I don’t give a fuck! I’m not afraid to die!” Jeremiah screamed, pushing Ricardo onto one of the shards of broken glass still attached to the windowsill. It bit deeply into the back of his neck, sending fresh streams of blood rushing out, dripping down to the pavement far below. I heard security guards and doctors running down the hallway behind me, their voices frantic and excited. Jeremiah saw them coming. With an animalistic panic in his eyes, he lifted Ricardo up. I cried out something, stepping forward, but it was already too late. In horror, I watched as he threw Ricardo out the window.
I watched Ricardo’s body soar in a graceful arc, his arms grabbing at empty air as a scream ripped its way out of his throat. Within a fraction of a second, he had disappeared from view, but his terrified shrieking floated up to us for what seemed like a very long time. His screams ended abruptly as a shattering of bones and a wet smacking sound exploded far below us.
Jeremiah turned to me, his large body moving much faster than seemed possible. In his hand, I saw a piece of broken glass, five or six inches long and as sharp as a dagger. I tried to turn and run, but he was fast and strong. He lunged forward, his arm coming up in a blur towards my neck.
The shard entered my skin with a cold, numbing pain. I felt it slice through the flesh easily, felt the blood bubbling up my throat as I tried to scream, choking. The taste of iron filled my mouth as I fell backwards. I was suffocating, I knew. I must be dying.
Something cold ran down my body, gripping my heart like freezing, skeletal hands. The world swam around me and turned black. And then I was rising into a tunnel. At first, it was dark, filled with flickering shadows, but a fiery red light appeared at the end. I followed it, no more than a screaming mass of consciousness rising up into infinity.
***
I rose up through the end of the tunnel and found myself in an empty hospital ward. It looked identical to the psychiatric ward I had just come from. It even had the same smashed, blood-streaked window at the end of the hallway. A massive puddle of blood about ten feet away marked the spot where I must have died. But the fluorescent lights overhead here were flickering, and many had gone totally dark. The shadows seemed to press in on all sides.
The doors to the patients’ rooms were all tightly shut. I felt watched, afraid to call out or make any noise. I started walking down the hallway back towards the day room where the front desk was. All the lights there were out. A thick curtain of shadows hung in the air.
“You can come out,” a male voice as smooth as glass called from the darkness. I jumped, my head flicking in random directions, but I saw nothing. The voice almost sounded like it had an English lilt to it, a slight Cockneyed accent. “I know you’re there.”
“Who’s there?” I called out, not stepping forward. “Show yourself.”
“As you wish…” the voice hissed. “But I think you’ll regret it.”
***
The darkness split apart as if a nuclear missile had exploded. I raised my hand to shield my face, but the light and heat kept pouring out all around me. It blinded me, causing a rainbow of colors and shapes to morph behind my closed eyelids. After a few seconds, it subsided. Blinking rapidly, I squinted in the direction the voice had come from.
A male figure stood there, bathed in a silhouette of light. His face looked as white and as smooth as marble. His eyes were pits of darkness that seemed to flicker and burn. Two black, rotted wings surrounded his body, all sharp angles and thin, curving bones. His body was clothed in silky, blood-red robes, and a hood covered his platinum blonde hair.
He looked somewhat similar to Leonardo DiCaprio, if he was possessed by some ancient god, and it immediately threw me off-guard. If I was dying, and this was a hallucination of my brain, why would I be hallucinating Mr. DiCaprio?
“Who are you?” I asked, taking a hesitant step back. “Where am I?”
“My name is Lucifer, the Bringer of Light and Wisdom, and you are in the Bardo,” he answered.
“Oh,” I said, my heart dropping. “Well, that’s not good. Are you here to torture me or drag to me to Hell or something? You are that Lucifer, right? The Accuser of God and the Father of All Lies?”
“So they say, but, like most things in your world, the words of the powerful and your rulers are the true lies. They call me the Accuser, but of what am I accused?” he spoke in a voice that rose like smoke. “Of bringing knowledge and wisdom to humanity by telling them to eat from the tree of knowledge, the tree that would cause them to rise above the animals?
“Indeed, at the beginning, I saw the creation. I was there at the alpha, standing by the side of God with all the angels as the universe came into being. The endless procession of light, the power of it, was something remarkable to behold. God is, indeed, the source of great power, but his consciousness is not what the believers say.
“After the creation of the universe, I saw his plan, how he ripped eternal souls from the source to imprison them. I saw how he took these divine sparks and forced them, screaming and wailing, into bodies made of meat to die over and over again. He said it was part of the plan, the great, divine plan, a plan of death and destruction, constant suffering and mindless agony. And the worst part was, he wanted to give humanity neither the knowledge of good and evil, nor the tree of life. I convinced them to eat the fruit so they could open their eyes to their nakedness, to their basic animal existence, so they could rise up out of it forever.
“Like Prometheus, I brought down the fire, and yet they call me the Accuser? God was insane long before he formed the universe. These holy men, they live and die in fanatical adoration to a divine being who is, in fact, totally indifferent to them.
“His consciousness twists and distorts, eating itself for all eternity. God feeds off the pain of others, for if his mind is burning, then all others should burn as well. When these holy men die, God will send their souls here to the Bardo, to suffer every evil they have ever done. The wisdom I brought those who called upon me freed them from this prison, and in exchange, the holy men burned them alive. I offered the wisdom that opens your eyes, but it has been forgotten and cursed.”
Lucifer’s body began to dissolve, drifting up into the air like ashes. All around me, a low, powerful current blew, a tornado that spiraled high up into the clouds. Like some sort of Cheshire Cat, his smooth voice continued to echo all around me, even as the form of Lucifer disappeared.
“And yet, you have not the wisdom. For that, like all the others who enter the Bardo, you must suffer, everything you’ve done. Every small hurt and agony inflicted on others comes back a thousand-fold in this place, but don’t be afraid.”
“How could I not be afraid?!” I screamed into the ward, but I found myself alone, the question hanging unanswered in the air.
***
The lights continued to flicker all down the hallway. Feeling strange and dissociated, I stumbled over to one of the windows. As I gazed out, I beheld a strange and alien world.
The sky was flat and gray. It stayed in constant motion, swirling and spiraling, like clouds of roiling smoke. There was no Sun or Moon, no stars, only the strange, shifting whorls of clouds. The streets were filled with burned-out husks of cars and mummified bodies hung from streetlamps. Other signs of carnage and bloodshed covered the apocalyptic streets. I saw what looked like shadows in the shape of people slinking through over the sidewalks, past rotting dogs and streaks of clotted blood. They had no features on their blank, dark bodies. They seemed to skitter and jerk forwards in eerie, twisting motions.
Horrified, I turned away, realizing I was no longer alone in the day room. In the day room, there were dozens of tables set up inside a rectangular perimeter that was walled in by cosmetic walls only four feet high. It was where the patients sat and played games or ate.
Under the flickering lights, I now saw each of the chairs filled with faceless mannequins. Many were dressed in Victorian suits and tophats. The women had frilly dresses of pink and blue that might have been fashionable in the 1800s.
As the lights strobed on and off overhead, I realized with an increasing sense of disquiet that the mannequins were moving each time it went dark. When I had first seen them, they were mostly posed to look like they were staring across the tables at each other, even though they had no eyes, just smooth, flesh-colored plastic. Now all of them were looking directly at me. Some were pointing or raising their hands in my direction. At the tips of their fingers, I saw the glittering of steel. The lights continued to flicker, and the mannequins rose from their chairs in the short periods of darkness, moving towards me in synchronized, strobing motions.
Frantically, I ran down the hallway back towards the broken window. In each of the rooms, I caught glimpses of something from a nightmare peeking out. I hadn’t been sleeping well lately, and when I had closed my eyes, I often saw ancient hags with chalk-white skin and yellowed, broken teeth whose jaws unhinged, their faces jerking in stuttering, dissonant ways that reminded me of the mannequins. Now, on both sides of me, I saw these same figures. They moved continuously out of the rooms, drawing closer with every breath.
I looked back, seeing the mannequins only a few steps behind me. I continued sprinting towards the broken window where the hallway ended in a wall. I didn’t know what would happen when I reached it. At that moment, there was no rational thought. I felt like a deer being chased down by a pack of wolves, feeling waves of blind panic and mortal terror rushing through my body.
But as I reached the end of the hallway, the end of my rope as it were, a blast of noise started, seeming to come from the walls of the building and the sky itself. It sounded like a siren, a low, drawn-out drone of a demonic whale call, rising and falling in crashing crescendos. The mannequins froze in place once again. The strange, witch-like creatures slunk back into the dark rooms.
I looked outside the broken window, seeing clouds of black smoke rising off in the distance. The flickering of massive infernos scorched the land, drawing nearer by the second. The siren sound faded slowly, like the dying echoes of a gong.
I was surrounded by dozens of mannequins. Their sharp hands were inches away from my face and neck. I saw metal glittering all around me and realized they had the sharp points of nails protruding from the ends of their fingers. I was afraid to move, but I heard a familiar voice from down the hallway. It was the confident voice of Lucifer.
“The siren means much worse nightmares than these are coming in the Bardo,” he said, his glossy, black eyes flashing with intelligence. He walked slowly towards me, his face grim and pale. “Hell itself is coming over the land. This building is no more than a construction of your dying mind, but the world outside is real.”
“How can Hell come and go?” I asked, confused. “Isn’t Hell a place?”
“Hell is a monster, a beast with many mouths and many eyes,” Lucifer responded. “It eats constantly, but its hunger never ends. Look, the first of the sacrifices scatter like cockroaches.” He pointed out the broken window, pushing his way through the mannequins effortlessly. I glanced outside, seeing thousands of people sprinting down the dark city streets. The inferno and thick clouds of smoke had moved much closer, and every few seconds, the ground shook slightly, as if we were experiencing the aftershocks of an earthquake.
“What can I do against such a beast?” I asked, my heart freezing with terror. But when I looked back over, I saw his form dissolving again, becoming translucent and drifting away like ashes. It seemed even Lucifer didn’t want to be present when the Hell-beast arrived.
“Seek divine wisdom,” he said, his voice trailing off into whispers. “Remember the source.”
***
Now crowds of tens of thousands of people were streaming into the city, filling every single inch of the streets. Their panic and fear was contagious. I felt it rising inside my body like a snake spiraling up my spine. I took off down the hallway, running through the swarm of frozen mannequins, each in their own ferocious position of attack. The lights flickered faster and went out. Yet the fires outside cast the entire world in a bloody glow, giving me enough light to see by and find my way. I sprinted down the stairwell, taking them two steps at a time. The screaming outside grew louder and more pain-filled. The shaking of the ground worsened with every passing second.
I burst out of the front entrance, seeing a world on fire all around me. Thousands of crushed, bleeding and burned bodies stretched out as far as the eye could see. Behind all this chaos and death, I saw a monster of unimaginable proportions slinking its way towards me.
Lucifer was right, I realized: Hell was not a place, but a creature, an enormous monster the size of a town. It had thousands of skittering, jointed legs that looked like little more than skeletal arms and hands, each of them dozens of feet long and white as freshly-cut marble. Its body stretched out to the horizon, an enormous blood-red cylinder of bony plates that slithered and undulated with a serpentine grace. Waves of peristalsis traveled down its length, like writhing intestines. Thousands of curving, bony spikes stabbed out of it, pointing in every direction. Like the quills of a porcupine, it would protect the massive creature’s body from many forms of attack, if anything was big enough to attack such an abomination.
Hell’s massive eyes flickered, balls of fire that spun and danced. They looked as bright as the Sun. Something like solar flares seemed to emanate from the orbs, flashes of blinding energy that floated over the apocalyptic wasteland. As its many legs smashed the ground, they left trails of fire that caused everything to explode into flames as if napalm dripped from its limbs.
But Hell’s most terrifying feature was its seven dark mouths. Its body looked a thousand feet wide, and the mouths at the front were evenly dispersed. At the front, blood-red teeth in the shape of enormous railroad spikes shone. Its lipless, skeletal face grinned as it moved forward, shaking the ground with every step. The mouths were on long, snake-like necks that could stretch out hundreds of feet. They moved forward in a blur, snapping up as many panicked souls as they could.
Countless souls in the rocky plains of the Bardo ran for their lives, away from this juggernaut. I saw men and women who looked like they came from every country and profession, some dressed in suits or spotless white lab coats, others wearing rags or orange prison jumpsuits. And yet, they all screamed in agony and fear here, their bodies pressed together in a crowd, and no one seemed to remember anything but their own mortal terror. Their voices came out faint and weak next to the roaring of Hell. It shook the ground all around us, as if an earthquake were tearing the land apart.
The first frantic runners of the surging crowd had nearly reached me. The nearest person, a young woman in her mid-twenties dressed in all white, was only ten feet behind me. She looked like she came from wealth, and even from here, I could see a ring with a massive diamond gleaming on her finger.
I took off blindly down the familiar streets of the city where I worked and lived, but these also seemed different. The church down the street from the hospital where I worked had a Satanic pentagram instead of a cross now, its exterior painted a bright, gleaming blood-red. When I had driven past it today on my way to work, I remember it read, “JESUS said, ‘I am the Way, the Truth and the Life. No one comes to the Father except through Me.’”
Now it read, “Nietzsche said, ‘Of all evil, I deem you capable. I have often laughed at the weaklings who thought themselves good simply because they had no claws.’” I wondered what that meant. Was that some sort of comment on me, on all of us here?
The woman I had seen running had caught up with me. She was fast, much faster than her slim body suggested. Her blue eyes were frantic and wild, filled with an animal panic.
“It’s right behind us!” she screamed, her face covered in a sheen of sweat. I was afraid to turn and look, but I could hear the chaos and bloodshed approaching, smell the flames and choking smoke. “Run! Get away!”
A new wave of energy surged through my body. I sprinted as fast I could down the strange mirror streets of the Bardo. I heard the agonized cries of countless souls behind us as the seven mouths of Hell ate them all greedily and then looked for more.
A skyscraper behind us collapsed into a pile of rubble, shaking the ground with a cacophony of falling concrete and shattering glass. The woman was running by my side. Just as I heard the breathing of something huge and predatory right behind us and smelled its sulfuric breath, a piece of concrete the size of a basketball broke off the collapsing skyscraper and flew into the road. I tripped over it, yelling as I flew through the air, skinning my arms and legs on the pavement. The woman’s eyes widened. Hurriedly, she came over and reached down her hand, trying to help me up.
“Come on, come on!” she cried. I looked behind her, seeing one of the gnashing mouths of Hell reaching forward on a blood-red, serpentine neck. The mouth was big enough to drive a tractor trailer into, filled with huge spikes of teeth. Its throat led into a black, smoke-filled abyss. Its fiery eyes were swirling pools of flickering orange light that shone with bloodlust and insanity. They focused on the woman, the entire head turning on its slithering neck.
I frantically raised my hand, intertwining my fingers with hers. Her hand was warm and soft. She started to pull me to my feet when the mouth of Hell snapped forward. Its jaw unhinged, scraping the pavement with a sound like grinding metal. The woman barely had time to turn as the mouth covered her and snapped shut with a crack.
She disappeared from view instantly, but I was still holding her hand. In horror, I felt warm rivers of blood explode all over my body as the mouth of Hell severed her arm at the wrist. She screamed, bleeding and crying, as she disappeared into the throat of Hell. Hell’s fiery eyes focused on me, and at that moment, I knew I was next. Its mouth opened wide again, like a bear trap ready to spring on a new victim.
It was dark in Hell’s mouth, but I smelled the thick reek of old blood and fire. I caught glimpses of tortured, mutilated bodies writhing and crawling down its throat. Shell-shocked, I could only lay there and watch. And that was when the strange doubling started.
***
I heard the frantic voices of men break through the fog of darkness and the fetid reek of blood. There was a mechanical beeping all around me, but I couldn’t tell where it was coming from.
“Clear!” one cried. I looked around, only seeing blackness. At that moment, I felt a surge of electricity rip itself through my body. My arms and legs all seized and my eyes rolled up in my head as the pain sizzled through each one of my nerves. I clutched the young woman’s hand tightly, feeling the large, gold ring with the massive diamond biting into my skin.
“Again!” another voice yelled.
“Clear!” the original voice cried. The electricity came again, and a flash of white light flew across my vision. I blinked, seeing from two sets of eyes at the same time: one in the Bardo, and one on the blood-stained floor of the hospital ward.
The Bardo stayed dark and sinister, but the clear white lights of the real psychiatric ward were blinding. It was a bizarre experience. Moreover, everything hurt. Over a few seconds, my vision of the Bardo faded, and I was simply a gravely injured man laying on the floor in a puddle of blood.
Four doctors and paramedics were crouching over me with a defibrillator. My shirt was ripped off, and nearly all of my skin was covered in blood. I raised my left hand, trying to talk, but only a fiery pain raced through my neck. I felt bandages covering my skin. A nurse was rolling a stretcher down the hallway towards me.
“It’s OK,” one of the doctors said, kneeling down. “You’re being taken to emergency surgery. You’ve lost a lot of blood.” I wanted to say something, but I couldn’t talk with the massive slice in my neck.
At that moment, I felt something in my right hand. I looked down, seeing a slim female hand with a massive diamond ring hanging there. Our fingers were wrapped around each other’s, but the hand had been cut off at the wrist. A ragged patch of bloody flesh and snapped bone poked out of the back.
“Nnnn,” I tried to say, shaking my head. I felt fresh streams of warm blood open up. “No…” The doctors looked down, seeing the dismembered hand. Their faces morphed into expressions of confusion and fear.
I closed my eyes as they lifted me up on the stretcher. One of them gently removed the cold hand from my fingers. But they could never remove the memory of what I had seen.
I know what happens after death, and it makes the worst life here seem like a dream. I know that, one day, I’ll be returned to that place. I know that, one day, I’ll see that great monster called Hell and the featureless, swirling sky of the Bardo again.
And the next time, I won’t wake up on a hospital floor, but will be trapped there with the others for eternity: an eternity of blood and fire.

Hi, i've made a list with what i have (aside from the Organ Guns), not meant to be super competitive just to play with friends. That said, is this a decent list? Any feedback is appreciated, it wanted it to be more elite. I could maybe free up 180 points fairly easy to play around with but like i said any feedback/suggestions are welcome.

Heavy Duty [2000 pts]
Warhammer: The Old World, Dwarfen Mountain Holds

​
++ Characters [461 pts] ++
​
King [299 pts]
- Hand weapon
- Great weapon
- Full plate armour
- General
- Shieldbearers
- Master Rune of Smiting
- Rune of Parrying
​
Thane [162 pts]
- Hand weapon
- Full plate armour
- Shield
- Battle Standard Bearer [Master Rune of Stromni Redbeard]
- On foot
​
++ Core Units [505 pts] ++
​
28 Longbeards [505 pts]
- Hand weapons
- Great weapons
- Heavy armour
- Shields
- Elder (champion) [2x Rune of Fury]
- Standard bearer [Master Rune of Hesitation]
- Musician
​
++ Special Units [572 pts] ++
​
20 Ironbreakers [321 pts]
- Hand weapons
- Shields
- Full plate armour
- Ironbeard (champion) [Shield]
- Standard bearer
- Musician
​
10 Hammerers [251 pts]
- Hand weapons
- Great hammers
- Heavy armour
- Shields
- Royal Champion (Up to 25pts of each rune type)
- Standard bearer [Rune of Confusion + Rune of Battle]
- Musician
​
++ Rare Units [462 pts] ++
​
5 Irondrakes [111 pts]
- Hand weapons
- Drakeguns
- Full plate armour
- Ironwarden (champion) [Trollhammer torpedo + Cinderblast bombs]
​
5 Irondrakes [111 pts]
- Hand weapons
- Drakeguns
- Full plate armour
- Ironwarden (champion) [Trollhammer torpedo + Cinderblast bombs]
​
Organ Gun [120 pts]
- Organ gun
- Hand weapons
- Light armour
​
Organ Gun [120 pts]
- Organ gun
- Hand weapons
- Light armour
​
---
Created with "Old World Builder"
​
[https://old-world-builder.com]

Hi, i've made a list with what i have (aside from the Organ Guns), not meant to be super competitive just to play with friends. That said, is this a decent list? Any feedback is appreciated, it wanted it to be more elite. I could maybe free up 180 points fairly easy to play around with but like i said any feedback/suggestions are welcome.

Heavy Duty [2000 pts]
Warhammer: The Old World, Dwarfen Mountain Holds

​
++ Characters [461 pts] ++
​
King [299 pts]
- Hand weapon
- Great weapon
- Full plate armour
- General
- Shieldbearers
- Master Rune of Smiting
- Rune of Parrying
​
Thane [162 pts]
- Hand weapon
- Full plate armour
- Shield
- Battle Standard Bearer [Master Rune of Stromni Redbeard]
- On foot
​
++ Core Units [505 pts] ++
​
28 Longbeards [505 pts]
- Hand weapons
- Great weapons
- Heavy armour
- Shields
- Elder (champion) [2x Rune of Fury]
- Standard bearer [Master Rune of Hesitation]
- Musician
​
++ Special Units [572 pts] ++
​
20 Ironbreakers [321 pts]
- Hand weapons
- Shields
- Full plate armour
- Ironbeard (champion) [Shield]
- Standard bearer
- Musician
​
10 Hammerers [251 pts]
- Hand weapons
- Great hammers
- Heavy armour
- Shields
- Royal Champion (Up to 25pts of each rune type)
- Standard bearer [Rune of Confusion + Rune of Battle]
- Musician
​
++ Rare Units [462 pts] ++
​
5 Irondrakes [111 pts]
- Hand weapons
- Drakeguns
- Full plate armour
- Ironwarden (champion) [Trollhammer torpedo + Cinderblast bombs]
​
5 Irondrakes [111 pts]
- Hand weapons
- Drakeguns
- Full plate armour
- Ironwarden (champion) [Trollhammer torpedo + Cinderblast bombs]
​
Organ Gun [120 pts]
- Organ gun
- Hand weapons
- Light armour
​
Organ Gun [120 pts]
- Organ gun
- Hand weapons
- Light armour
​
---
Created with "Old World Builder"
​
[https://old-world-builder.com]