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Effective Home Remedies for Headache Relief

Understanding Headaches

Headaches are a common ailment affecting millions globally. They can range from mild discomfort to severe pain, impacting daily activities. Understanding the types and triggers of headaches is crucial for effective treatment.

Types of Headaches

There are various types of headaches, including tension headaches, migraines, and cluster headaches. Tension headaches are the most common, often caused by stress or poor posture. Migraines are more intense, accompanied by nausea and sensitivity to light. Cluster headaches are severe and occur in cyclical patterns.

Identifying Headache Triggers

Identifying triggers is essential in managing headaches. Common triggers include stress, dehydration, poor diet, lack of sleep, and environmental factors. Home Remedies for Headache. By recognizing these triggers, you can take preventive measures to reduce headache frequency.

Hydration is Key

Dehydration is a common cause of headaches. Drinking plenty of water can alleviate symptoms. Aim for at least eight glasses a day. For a refreshing alternative, try herbal teas like peppermint or chamomile, known for their soothing properties.

Using Cold or Hot Compresses

Cold and hot compresses can offer immediate relief. For tension headaches, a warm compress on the neck and shoulders can relax tight muscles. For migraines, a cold compress on the forehead can numb the pain.

Herbal Remedies

Herbs like ginger and feverfew have been used for centuries to treat headaches. Ginger tea can reduce inflammation and nausea associated with migraines. Home Remedies for Headache . Feverfew can help prevent migraines when taken regularly. Using Cold or Hot Compresses

Conclusion

Headaches, though common, can be debilitating. By understanding the types and triggers, you can adopt natural remedies to alleviate and prevent headaches. Hydration, essential oils, compresses, herbal remedies, acupressure, a healthy diet, regular exercise, and stress management are effective strategies for headache relief. Embrace these home remedies to lead a healthier, headache-free life.
Conclusion
Headaches, though common, can be debilitating. By understanding the types and triggers, you can adopt natural remedies to alleviate and prevent headaches. Hydration, essential oils, compresses, herbal remedies, acupressure, a healthy diet, regular exercise, and stress management are effective strategies for headache relief. Embrace these home remedies to lead a healthier, headache-free life.

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Anglestan
Augustus 5, 1923
Facility 9, Mancheston
Colonel Jacobs
His hands flew through the folders General Jorgenson and Colonel Thatcher had. There were dozens of them, stacked upon each other all filed in alphabetical order. It had only been a few days since he had woken up from his coma and visited his home— now his mother’s grave. He clenched his fists at the thought. The grief and rage threatened to bubble and spill over once again. He took a deep breath and dragged out the exhale, almost to the point where he had emptied out his lungs.
He was the only one with clearance, and so he couldn’t disclose any of what he learned with his team. They would simply have to trust him and his judgment. Which he was sure they would do. His hands went over one of the folders skimming through it. There were multiple secret projects, but the ones with the most notes were Project S.T.A.R, Project L.U.N.A.R.I, Project R.E.V.I.V.E, Project D.A.W.N, and Project T.E.M.P.L.A.R.
The colonel decided to start with the most notes and papers. Project D.A.W.N.
He skimmed through the notes, reading through some of the details and highlighted words. Project D.A.W.N, the espionage project Thatcher had started placed two spies in Verlin who were to report directly to a Crescent general named Sienna Moretti who was apparently on humanity’s side.
So I was right. There was an espionage element. With the recent attacks and Thatcher’s death, however, it’s safe to assume that it had somehow failed. Either they got found out or they betrayed us. Both seem very likely, but if they were found out, it would be possible that they had died.
He read through all of it before setting the folder down. There were no new notes recently. He sighed and assumed that Project DAWN was a failure. Whether or not the agents were still alive and well, it was too risky to check if they had been compromised. It was better to assume that they had been and cut all contact. The only way to find out now was to go there himself and check. I can’t contact them again. There’s no telling if it would still be Moretti or the agents who would see my messages. It’s a big risk, and judging by the state of things, best to assume it failed.
He picked up another folder. This one had the label ‘under development’ on the folder. Project Templar. He opened the folder and was instantly met with a blueprint and drawings of a massive bipedal machine. It looked humanoid with strange proportions and was supposed to be standing at an impressive 30 meters, or 100 feet. The Titanic Engine Mech for Personal Land Assault and Reconnaissance.
It was apparently a joint project with the Church of Sol, utilizing new and advanced technologies he hadn’t heard of. A 203mm Gatling cannon on one arm, while the other had three different weapons. A massive firestarter that utilized a new type of fuel mixture that could theoretically spew flames a kilometer away using a high-pressure nozzle. The fuel was ignited using an electrical spark. The second weapon was a high-powered light weapon that fired a single powerful beam of focused light that was even further amplified by layers of focusing lenses that could increase its output several times. Its third weapon was… a dust domina?
Mark read through the specifications of the so-called ‘sand cannon’ weapon. It was a massive cannon that accelerated tiny particles several times. Each particle was to be electrically charged, and it would travel at immense speeds. Near impossible speeds. The resulting impact of a microscopic particle at such speeds would be enough to form a small crater and punch through armor like it was nothing. This weapon would fire multiple at the same time, which could literally eat away at anything on the opposing end.
In terms of secondary weapons, the titan had two missile launch chambers in front of its shoulder each containing about 40 missiles, and two massive howitzer cannons on top of it. Both are 800mm in caliber. It had massive stumpy legs that served as bunkers for a small platoon on each leg. Each leg had machine dominas and 155mm cannons. Its chassis held two nuclear reactors inside providing for its power and weaponry. Its armor was the thickest and most ridiculous he’d ever read. Two meters of heavy steel armor.
How far are we in terms of technology? This thing looks like it came out of an H.G. Wells sci-fi novel. He thought, shaking his head. It was over the top, but there was no denying its combat capabilities. If it was already under-developed then it must be the first prototype. This has already been approved. Guess I better see it for myself later and check how it's coming along. Construction apparently started just a few months before the invasion.
Next was project L.U.N.A.R.I. It was a project involving Six. “Huh,” he said, continuing to read on.
The Light Undone: Nocturnal’s Adaptive Resistance Initiative. As he read further, his eyes widened. The reason why Six was so special wasn’t just because of her immunity to all strigoi weaknesses, but because of her impressive ability to turn any true born strigoi like her. She could transfer her strain like any other strigoi and transform them into a version of hers. It however only seemed to work for naturally born strigoi. The new species of ‘half-breeds’ were called ‘Blessed Children’ as Thatcher had coined in the folder.
The plan was to turn all willing true-born hemolite strigoi into these blessed children. Able to withstand the sun. Immune to silver. Free from the dependency on blood. They could remove all the weaknesses of the strigoi and after the war— make it possible to integrate them into society as normal citizens living on the surface. The project folder also made mentions of a city-wide draft in Dante and highlighted the possibility of turning all Dantenite true born strigoi into these blessed children and renaming them as ‘Lunari’. A mix of the dark and the light. The light of Sol reflected in the children of the night.
“Thatcher, what the fuck have you been up to…” Mark whispered to himself.
While it was true that it could help in the war effort by utilizing Six and the dantenite population, it would also invite some unforeseen problems and consequences. Would humanity be okay with the Lunari? Would the world even be ready for them? Strigoi who were immune to the sun. They wouldn’t be impossible to kill, but they would be immensely more powerful if we were to take away their inherent weaknesses. This is a gamble. Its gain would only be seen during the war period, but its unintended effects on society could be catastrophic.
He frowned, setting the folder down. It was obviously Thatcher’s main plan; seeing as all her moves could be traced to the path of the eventual completion of this project. It seemed dangerous in the long run, but the duskwalkers and dantenites had been monumental in the war effort. Maybe it was the time the world started to accept them more. Isolation and segregation was definitely not the way to disperse fears and foster understanding.
If Thatcher thinks this is the next step forward… then I’ll put my faith in her plans.
Next up was Project S.T.A.R, or the Superior Tech and Adaptive Resistance. An upgrade to the current hemolite weapons and gear by using new researched studies. The Starfire Pattern Domina. The SFD-23 This thing features a new loading system and magazine, ditching the rotating cylinder most domina used, or the rotating helix magazine design of the current hemolite standard BM-16 domina.
The new domina had its magazine like a box… a strange design but it was certainly easier to handle than the bulky cylinders the helical mags used. In terms of ergonomics, it was smoother and fit more. Its placement however was on top of the domina, just above the barrel. Most of the weapon were to be made of lightweight polymers and the barrel itself were to be crafted out of reinforced aluminium. In addition to that, it had a 10-inch bayonet attached to it.
There were other new things as well, such as the composition of the bullet. Looking at the conceptual cross-section designs, Mark read through its description and how it would function. A .308 cased telescoped bullet covered in a silver jacket with break-away petals surrounding the main body. Inside the jacket was a penetrator core that was to be made of depleted uranium. It had a small amount of incendiary compound and… powdered white phosphorus behind an explosive compound. The thin silver jacket would deform and trigger the explosive compound inside the body. It would blow up causing massive internal damage and release the incendiary materials into the body with the flecks of powdered white phosphorus. The penetrator core could still potentially keep going and hit a second target, or punch through heavily armored targets.
Part of the new Project S.T.A.R was overhauling the armor and gear of not just the Hemolites but the Hunters as well. Starfire Mk 1. Carapace Armor. Carapace? It looked like plates of steel covered in a rubberized coat. It was supposed to be slipped on over the original hemolite body armor. It added a spring-loaded wrist blade to the gauntlet, a thicker coat made of resistant materials, and added extra padding for the knees, shoulders, and elbows.
However, the hemolites weren’t the only ones mentioned in the folder. It was to serve the Hunters as well. “Hunters…” Mark said. “August’s group is part of this initiative too.” He flipped through some of the pages. There were blueprints and drawings of an armored suit. A mechanized suit even smaller and more compact than the jotunn units. The Mark 1 STR battlesuit. It was supposed to hug the wearer’s frame and increase their overall power. It was supposed to be built of titanium alloy and a heavy steel frame with composite armor. It had a cooling system, life support systems that could recycle bodily fluids, and an exoskeleton frame that could increase the wearer’s strength and speed.
However, the real eye-opener was Thatcher’s notes. She had been ranting about the new human evolution, and how the Hunters were the first of the ‘Solari’. She wanted to enhance human genetics and push past the peak of human ability to reach greater heights. Implants and restructuring of the anatomy to make it more efficient. Using the blood of the goddess herself. She must have lost it. These are the ramblings of a lunatic. At least… if she didn’t mention the goddess. Why was the goddess important here?
The writings ended with the words: “See Project R.E.V.I.V.E, for more details.”
Mark eyed the final folder. His hands shook as he reached out to take it. Flipping it open, his hands nearly dropped it in shock. The goddess Helena was alive. There were pictures of her naked form floating in a giant tube of fluid. There were more of Thatcher’s ramblings and excited rants about the possibilities of such a discovery. Resurrection, Enhancement, and Veneration: Implementation of Visionary Evolution.
The goddess is alive?! According to the file, she’s currently under the Cathedral of New Lundun. Not only that, but the file also detailed the extraterrestrial tech that lay beneath the cathedral. So the goddess is real and she’s— not really a goddess, but rather, a vampyr who created herself a human body to stand in the sun, and decided that it wants to be on humanity’s side… what the fuck.
Mark’s frown and confusion only increased as he read on. Thatcher’s notes seemed to nearly descend into madness as she had written about creating ‘the first hundred’, alluding to the 100 members of the Hunters division. Her plan was to revive the goddess, and with her help and expertise in genetics— use her DNA to transform the Hunters into demi-humans. Super soldiers. Literal children of the goddess Helena. They would then don the STR battlesuits, the first of the superhuman warriors to defend humanity. Solari.
Their lightning-speed advancement into technology was heralded by studying the alien tech, which deepened the understanding of physics and engineering. Nuclear technologies, chemical warfare, new material sciences, the mechs, and walkers, it was spearheaded by trying to reverse-engineer technology centuries ahead of our own… for the past hundred years. It wasn’t completely stolen, however. More or less borrowed ideas that had been made into our own with our own designs and implements. Still, the speed at which the Church and the military had deciphered such advancements all by themselves was… impressive to say the least.
Still, the fact that the goddess was alive, and could be brought back was big news. Checking the file for details, he found that the previous general, Jorgenson, had already approved this project. It was their next step as soon as they returned from New Amsterdam; which never happened.
If Helena was alive, then she could end this war swiftly, or at the very least help greatly like she once did during the War of Darkness. Having the goddess back would throw a massive wrench in the Crescent’s plans. It would certainly be something they wouldn’t expect. Not even I expected this, since many sources say that the goddess had already ascended to watch over humanity, while conspiracy theorists claim she had died in battle and that the Church was worshiping a corpse. This could be the trick up our sleeves that no one would even consider.
The colonel quickly got up from his seat and gathered the main files he had read. He placed them in a bag and rushed outside of his office in Facility 9. He went over to a nearby room and flicked the lights on. “We need to go,” he said. In an instant seven hemolite soldiers got up from whatever they were doing and instantly stood in line.
“Sir! Whatever you need of us, sir,” the group said in unison.
They were Hemo-1. His former squad members. He had taken up Louis' suggestion that they be his personal security detail. It was a shame that he had basically placed the best hemolite team out of commission, but after all he had been through he convinced himself that he could be just a little selfish. He didn’t want to lose any more friends. Not on his watch. Not while he was in an office, and they were out fighting.
“We’re going to New Lundun. Better pack up, it’s going to be a long night.”
“Mark,” Olivia said.
Jacobs turned to her direction and gave her a nod.
“Colonel, sir, may I ask where in New Lundun?”
“Liv, you don’t need to do that with me. Please. I give all of you special permission,” the colonel groaned. “It’s so weird. I mean, ‘captain’ was bad enough, but now you’re acting like I’m an authority figure.”
“You… are, though,” Emma shrugged.
“I’m your friend, and Liv I’m literally your partner. Unless you have some kind of weird fetish, save it for later.”
Olivia grinned, shaking her head. “Duly noted!” she chirped.
“That’s better,” Mark chuckled. “Now come on, we have a cathedral to visit.”
“Uhh, I’m not sure if you noticed, but we’re kinda… strigoi?!” Louis groaned. “I’d burn the moment I step in that place! Plus, it’s coated in silver! Anything I even touch will give me burns!”
“Oh come on, Lou. You have fucking gloves on. As long as you’re not a clumsy dumbass you’ll be fine… oh wait.’
“Uh huh, just sayin’ what I think, boss.”
The group headed out and Mark said something on his radio. He then sat on the ground, making his joints pop. The rest of the squad shrugged and followed his example, sitting down on the grass and waiting for… nothing. Charles and Zach looked at each other in confusion. “Uh, sir?” they asked. “Aren’t we supposed to be heading out and traveling right now?”
“Oh yeah, we’re just waiting.”
“Foooor…?”
The colonel gave them a smirk as a loud noise began to make itself known. A hummingbird transport appeared out of the distance and stopped right above them, slowly descending into the grass. “Being colonel has its perks,” Mark said with a smile. He stood up and hopped inside the hummingbird as soon as it landed. “Come on now! We’ve got work to do! Last one aboard buys everyone food later!”
Emma zipped in before Mark could even finish his sentence, followed by Olivia, Phineas, Charles, Zach, and then Louis, who sadly took too long to process what the colonel said, and lagged behind.
“Aw, man! Fuck this shit.”
“Rules are rules, Lou. Prepare your wallet later.” Mark grinned.
With a smile, the colonel pulled Olivia to his side, who blushed for a moment before shaking her head. “Take us up! New Lundun Cathedral! How long would it take?” he asked the pilot.
“About an hour and a half!” The pilot replied. “Less if you want to get there as soon as possible!”
“Take your time! The night’s still young.”
The hummingbird started to lift up, taking them into the air. The group settled down in their seats and watched outside the open. Mark opened up a bag inside the hummingbird and took out some ear muffs built for a strigoi. Extremely loud noises were damaging for a strigoi’s enhanced hearing, so the military started implementing ear muffs for them after complaints from early deployments of the hemolite squads.
The trip didn’t take too long. In only an hour and twenty minutes they had arrived at the safe zone of New Lundun, heading straight for the cathedral. The night mass had just ended and people were leaving the cathedral. “Looks like we made it in perfect time!” Mark smiled. They hovered for a few minutes in the air before eventually landing down right in front of the statue of Helena.
As soon as they landed, the colonel and his group left the hummingbird. Mark instructed the pilot to wait for them. He went straight for the cathedral with his group following behind. He entered inside, clearing his throat. “Hello?”
“Well this is surely unexpected,” an old man said, walking up to greet them.
“Great Grandfather Aurelius. It’s uh, an honor.”
“Please. The honor is mine… I see you’re the new colonel. Yes, I’ve heard the news,” he said. “Would you mind telling me your name, young man? As well as your companions, if they feel so. I usually don’t allow duskwalkers here but, I have nothing against them. I’ll make an exception for your group.”
“Thank you, Great Grandfather,” Mark replied. “I am Colonel Mark Jacobs. These are my friends and security detail. Olivia, Zach, Phineas, Charles, Emma, and Louis.”
“I see, and what brings you here?”
“Since Thatcher’s demise, I was given access to her research and project folders upon taking up the title. I’ve learned about what’s under your cathedral,” Mark cleared his throat. “Would it be alright if we could see it? I’d like to check it for myself. Of course, under your permission and guidance, Great Grandfather.”
The church head looked from Mark to his companions. He pulled a slight frown and hummed. “Do these companions of yours have the clearance? Surely, we wish to keep our secrets hidden,” he said. Mark nodded.
“They do not have clearance to know what is in Thatcher’s folders and her findings,” the colonel nodded. “However, I give them permission to accompany me, and should they discover things for themselves, then you have my word and my trust that I can keep them from spilling state secrets.”
The Great Grandfather gave a short pause before ultimately relenting. “Very well,” he let out a sigh. “Follow me.”
Aurelius walked behind the altar and pulled the same lever, which opened the same staircase leading underground, where Jorgenson and Thatcher had once gone. “Over here, colonel,” he said. “I do not know you completely yet, but this is a big deal of trust I am giving you. Perhaps you would be the one to do things that Thatcher could not have.”
Mark nodded, he and his group followed the Great Grandfather down the staircase. It led down to a massive underground facility, with numerous priests, researchers, and scientists. Libraries, records, instruments, and artifacts of old. It was a treasure trove of learning.
“So,” Aurelius cleared his throat. “What would you like to know about?”
“This isn’t all of it,” Mark said. “Thatcher mentioned a living, breathing, Helena.”
His group behind him let out a soft gasp, but they tried their best to hide their surprise.
“Hm,” the Great Grandfather nodded. “Perceptive young man aren’t you? Very well.”
They were then led into another room, behind a set of heavy blast doors. If the whole group were trying to hide their surprise then, now they could barely contain it. Even the colonel stared awestruck at the things he had seen. Despite the near-magical objects around them, the true shock was the massive starship at the end of the hallway. “It’s impressive isn’t it?” Aurelius said. “All of the goddess’ artifacts and items at our disposal, to use and learn from, to integrate into our own. This is why Anglestan is the most powerful nation in the UHT in terms of development. When it comes to industry, however, that would go to the UNA. But we share our secrets with them. All our advancements are handed to them first before any other nation.”
“This is all amazing, Great Grandfather,” Mark replied. “But this is not what I’m here for.”
“No, it’s not.” Aurelius nodded.
He led them to another room, one that was sterilized and sported advanced machinery. Things that Mark had never even seen. There were screens with luminous green texts that appeared in front of it. Large panels with numerous keys, levers, and dials. Graphs of all sorts and beeping monitors. In the center, was the very thing he had come all this way to confirm. A large cylinder filled with liquid, sporting tubes and pipes connecting to its base. Inside was a woman of large proportion. Four arms, two legs, and six wings. In her bare chest was a symbol of the sun that seemed to glow dimly.
“There she is, there’s you goddess.”
Neither Mark nor his group spoke a word. He walked up to it, eyeing the woman inside. It really is her. Down to the last details. Golden hair, six limbs, six folded wings, and she looks massive. Probably as big as her statue just outside the cathedral. This is it. The very goddess in the history books, the one spoken about in legends and the one worshiped in the Churches of Sol.
“Can we free her?” he said.
The Great Grandfather nearly choked on his spit upon hearing those words. “Free her?! That could kill her! We don’t even understand this technology, let alone control it!” he said pointing at the panels. “The machines you see here are the best and most advanced we have based on what we can reverse engineer, but even then, the consequences of tampering with its functions may be disastrous!”
“I understand, Great Grandfather,” Mark said. “But we are in a dire situation, and the goddess may be our hope of turning this around. Whatever secrets of her tech that you don’t understand, wouldn’t she be able to teach us directly? What good is she floating around in Sol knows what?”
“That is her miraculous healing fluid. She had already built this contraption centuries ago in case anything were to happen to her, that her body’s natural healing could not sustain,” Aurelius said. “During the War of Darkness, Helena was struck with a weapon so deadly, her very cells began to tear away. The Reaper. Dealt to her by Absolem the progenitor. Her flesh was peeling from her body, and she began to decay whilst she still breathed. She entered this contraption and gave strict instructions to the Great Grandfather at the time, not to interrupt the healing process. The machine that monitored her, however, began to fail over time.”
“So this… these screens and panels…”
“Is only what functions we can understand. We took it upon ourselves to rebuild and study it the best we could. What we have right now is only a cheap imitation of a technology we do not fully comprehend,” he said. “It took us decades to even figure out the fundamentals and create a working prototype of this machine. By some miracle, the goddess’ healing process had remained even while we replaced components of technology ahead of ours.”
“But you know how to free her, don’t you?”
“I… yes.”
“Great Grandfather Aurelius,” Mark began. “We can end this war. Imagine what we could do with the goddess fighting on our side. We could advance even further, we could finally end the bloodshed, and we can show humanity that there is still hope. Imagine how people all over the world would feel seeing as their goddess has returned.”
“I wish I had your enthusiasm,” Aurelius said. “But it is simply too risky. The Church’s duty is to protect Helena and her legacy. We keep her alive, literally and figuratively. She nearly died the last time she was involved in a war. Would you risk losing the goddess?”
“Would you risk humanity losing?”
The Great Grandfather fell silent, looking back at Helena floating inside the tube, then to the panels that controlled it. He frowned and let out a long sigh. “The goddess said that we should not interrupt it. That it would end as soon as it was finished. Maybe we should trust her words.”
Mark shook his head. “I don’t spot a single blemish on the goddess. Not a single scratch,” he argued. “You said it yourself that the machine had begun to fail and you replaced components. How would you know that the thing that’s supposed to wake her up was not tampered with? Think about it. What you may think is a useless piece may be integral to the whole machine. Or maybe your replacements were not up to the task. Just because nothing’s happened doesn’t mean its functions have remained whole.”
“Young man, we simply cannot gamble with the goddess’ life here.”
“Have you no faith? Great Grandfather?”
Aurelius stepped back in shock. Mark’s companions looked at each other, clearly surprised as well. “Mark… I don’t think we should keep arguing with—” Olivia tried to say.
“No,” the colonel said firmly, cutting her off. “Great Grandfather Aurelius, do you think that Helena will not be able to pull through if we wake her? How long has it been? A century? How much longer will we wait? She may be immortal but humans aren’t.”
“I'm sorry, but the chances of failure are too high. The probability of her—”
“I don’t care about the probability! Would you rather put your faith in a statistic?!” Mark raised his voice. “I lost my mother to this war! My friends! My job! My eye, and almost my life! I’ve put mine on the line out there! You don’t know what it’s like out there! Was my mother’s death just a probability too? Was she just a statistic to you?! That as long as the numbers are good, no matter how many are lost, we are ‘winning’?!”
“Mark—!”
“No, Liv! He needs to know what’s really going on out there!” he spat. “Great Grandfather, with all due respect, but you don’t have a damn clue what it’s like to be in the field. You’re a man of faith, aren’t you? Take a risk. Everyone else has.”
Aurelius stood there, dumbfounded. He bit the inside of his cheeks and clenched his fists. “For your insolence, I would have had you flogged and stripped of your rank,” he glared at the young colonel. However, his features slowly softened, letting out a soft sigh. “But I have never seen such conviction. Mighty is your faith.”
The Great Grandfather moved over to the panels and reached into his robe, pulling out from around his neck a key with the symbol of the sun. He inserted it into the machine and turned. A beep sounded, right before Aurelius pulled a lever. In an instant, the fluid inside the glass chamber began to drain out into the tubes under it. Slowly, the chamber emptied and all that was left was the nude form of the goddess sitting in the glass.
“Did it work?” Louis asked, stepping forward and looking at the woman.
Aurelius stayed silent, his hands shaking in anticipation. Mark moved toward the glass chamber, when suddenly, the glass opened up like a door, releasing a fragrant mist. They stood there, watching for a whole minute. Nothing. At first nothing. The Great Grandfather looked like he was about to break down. His knees shook as he covered his mouth, thinking that he was responsible for the death of Helena.
That was when… a soft sound was heard. Movement. Olivia immediately went over to Mark and stood in front of him. Ready to protect him should anything happen. Slowly, the goddess moved more, her arms inched to the side.
Then, her eyes opened.

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preface: this is compilation of tips that i feel get undermentioned in general guides and that i wish i knew when i started playing, from my personal experience as a casual player who has been playing for less than a year. it is NOT comprehensive guide.
i refer to casual players as anyone who doesn't regularly (NOT the same as frequently) play the game, doesn't take part in every event, generally doesn't bother with more complicated techniques, etc.
feel free to share any tips you also wish you knew as a beginner and i'll try to add as many as i can (with credit of course)!

non-gameplay

• this game is NOT beginner friendly.
  • premium boxes cost A LOT and there is no pity/guarantee system**.
  • it's fun and the tsums are cute though so like
• therefore, PLANNING AHEAD and PRE-FARMING COINS are key to obtaining your desired tsums.
  • someone will usually post the following month's calendar near the end of the month which shows all the tsum available that following month and their availability periods.
  • u/MalibuDan posts monthly tsum evaluations at the start of every month as well, VERY HELPFUL in deciding whether or not to pull for a specific tsum.
• finish the colouring book cards for max skill level gadget hackwrench.
  • this will be your best coin farming tsum at the start, and if you just get unlucky trying to get a better one.
• LINK YOUR LINE ACCOUNT AND ADD FRIENDS. this subreddit has a monthly line id thread for this.
  • adding friends through line is ESSENTIAL to maintaining a steady supply of hearts.
  • linking your line account also just ensures you never lose your progress as long as you have your line account.
• many recommended tsums require a certain skill level to start functioning optimally.
  • the specific skill level is not always explicitly mentioned, do your own research.
  • there are a lot of videos on yt showcasing tsums at different levels that are helpful for this.
• only invest in the skill level of tsums you are comfortable using.
  • no matter how recommended a tsum is, if you are not comfortable using it, it will perform less efficiently than one you are comfortable with.
  • skill leveling is exponential. don't waste precious skill tickets or coins on pulling dupes unless you're sure you will be using the tsum.
• a lot of skill descriptions DO NOT list the full skill. DO YOUR RESEARCH.
  • e.g. anakin tsum skill description ONLY mentions the short tap for to clear multiple lines of tsums (short chains, good for generating bubbles) and does NOT mention the long directional tap to clear significantly larger line of tsums and bubbles (bigger chain, more score+exp+coins)
  • a good indicator you might be missing something is if the tsum is severely under-performing compared to reviews.
• yes, you should raise your all your tsums' (score) levels.
  • the score level refers to the amount of base score points you gain when clearing that specific tsum. chain multiplier calculates off that tsum's base score points.
  • it's necessary to avoid struggling with score-based missions down the line, especially since tsums aside from my tsum are selected at random.
  • the level 5 and level 10 cap cost 2k coins to unlock and increase beyond that. max level is 50.
• tsums are categorised. my tsum will significantly decrease the chance of spawning tsums in the same category for each game.
  • e.g. general colours, round/pointed ears, wears a hat/crown/etc, princess/queen/villain/etc, animals, tsums with variations (mickey, cabbage mickey, daruma mickey, etc), series/franchise (frozen, winnie the pooh, pixar, etc) etc etc etc
  • this is more relevant for clearing tsum missions that do not require a specific my tsum.
    • specific my tsum missions will provide a list of tsums you can use and will indicate before starting a game if the current my tsum cannot be used for the mission.

**there technically is a guarantee system in that, if you max out a tsum's skill level, they will be removed from the pool. needless to say, it will take VERY LONG to reach any sort of guarantee.

actual gameplay

• the try again button in the pause menu simply ends the game. bonus items are NOT refunded.
  • saves time if you mess up and know you won't be able to complete a mission.
• accuracy > speed.
  • avoids wasting time possibly fumbling chains
  • longer chains give more score+exp+COINS
• save bubbles to trigger fever time or to spawn new tsums for easier / better chains.
  • triggering fever time adds +5sec to the timer.
  • whether you use gyro or the fan button, repositioning tsums wastes precious time that could be spent on clearing tsums.
• if you regain your skill right as the timer is ending:
  • if the skill clears tsums (i.e. burst, clears lines, etc), use it before the timer ends.
    • last bonus skill picks a tsum to clear at random, possibly clearing the least number of tsums. using your skill will almost always give you more rewards.
  • if the skill does not clear tsums (i.e. friend-calling tsum), leave it for last bonus after the timer ends.
    • you might not have time to clear any tsums after activating the skill and the skill value will be wasted.
    • exception is time stopping/adding skills.
• if you are close to completing a mission, it's cheaper to extend the timer (5 rubies) than to make the mission easier (10 rubies) in the card menu.
  • of course, this only applies if you only need a bit more to complete the mission, otherwise making the mission easier cuts the mission goal a significant amount.
• only use +coin bonus item if you can guarantee 1k+ coin score.
  • simple math, you break even or gain less than not using it otherwise.
  • basic probability, chances of getting a high multiplier is possible but extremely low. it's also just a waste for the chance to occur with a low coin score.
• some skill tickets (most importantly 5>4) are discounted near the end of the month.
  • this is an optimal time to farm especially if you have a good coin farming tsum.
  • it's also a good time for completing harder missions as 5>4 helps in multiple aspects.

i hope this will prove to be helpful to someone! and please let me know if i've made any errors!
i will try to keep adding tips if/when they occur to me or someone offers a good one, so again feel free to share your own!

This is a list of suggestions I have seen for CIG when it comes to the pirate gameplay loop in the future. I thought it would be interesting to get peoples feedback as currently piracy is widely seen as griefing.
1) Marked Cargo and Cargo destruction: A system that either marks cargo as stolen(so it is worth less and/or can only be sold in certain places), or destroys a portion of a ships cargo when a trader is blown up. This increases opportunity cost of piracy and adds some consequence to stealing cargo(which currently is not super present). This leads into the second idea.
2) The need to physically board ships to steal cargo: While there is a partial iteration of this in the game currently, I think there is a lot of room for this system to be fleshed out. Piracy Should not be as easy as blowing up a ship unless there is a serious loss in return. in the words of u/ Ehnto "I want to have my ship disabled and boarded, have an opportunity to flee or fight back, rush to gear up and defend myself or negotiate safe passage. That actually sounds fun.". I think proper boarding and/or negotiation would not only add massive RP potential but also allow a trader caught by surprise a chance to defend themselves.
3) Pirate flagging: The one thing piracy lacks immensely in its current state is consequence. I personally have just tanked huge Klescher sentences at the end of a session to come into my next session a law abiding citizen. Piracy should be a hole you actively need to dig yourself out of in order to access law abiding portions of a system. Sections of space controlled by law abiding players or the UEE should be off limits/restricted until a pirate can prove they are upstanding by completing some arbitrary set of quests.
4) Pirate economy: A pirates ship claim time and cost should be increased as well as the cost of equipment. Without the ability to obtain your ship from upstanding sources or nab gear from a large reputable dealer, pirates should have to pay more to obtain goods. Insurance companies are not going to want to work with a pirate and neither would an upstanding arms dealer. This could work in tandem with how a pirate goes about making profit. No one wants to work with a mass murderer BUT if you as a pirate negotiate and dont just blow people up, perhaps you have less of a penalty.
5) Realistic consequences: "If you pirate a yacht operating out of the Bahamas in modern day, you know what happens? You have ASW craft looking for you and any nearby frigates on the alert the same day. You pirate a second one, you're likely to have a couple of DDGs tasked to you and they're going to be looking for an excuse to sink you, not capture you and take you to jail. You hit shipping in a less controlled area but near major shipping lanes like Somalia, you get multiple navies cooperating to stop you.
To put it in a Star Citizen context, that'd be like holding up a Prospector who gets a distress call off causing the INS Jericho to task an Idris-M to look for you and disperse Hornet Trackers and Mantises to Yela and the Aaron Halo to sweep for you. You get within scanning range of any station and they will immediate send fighters and a warship after you, not just disallow landing. You hit a Starliner and rob the passengers and suddenly it's an interstellar incident and you have a pair of Javelins spearheading a joint UEE-Crusader task force to find you, kill you, and kill anyone working with you, and they don't give up after two hours and go away." -u/ CaptFrost
6) A rework of the prison system: The most common idea I have seen is a rework of the prison system where instead of needing time to be spent in prison you make the system merit based. The more charges you have, the more merits you need to get out. You ear merits at a flat rate, but only earn 1/10 of the merits when logged off. To get more merits you need to do community service or missions for whoever owns the prison in order to be set free. Oh and prison should obv not be so easy to escape from.
These are just some ideas, they may not all need to be implemented and they may not all be good ideas. I personally think the threat of piracy will keep the verse interesting. Always having to look over your shoulder makes for few dull moments but murder hobos should not be allowed to roam free with no consequence. Im sure with faction wars, org disputes, and piracy, hopefully there is plenty to do for PVP and PVE players and orgs alike.

First/Previous
Gemma was right about the sky’s open night, and I could sympathize with her recollection of the beauty, but for me it must’ve been a greater tragedy—the young woman had only ever enjoyed the stars in the pits of Golgotha; I could, long before, drink in the sky at leisure. Cruel memories.
The night the Rednecks died was one of viscera, but before that it was coolness on the breeze, a warmth by the fires while John played his guitar and we had only just taken two dozen kegs of lager (personal reserves) from the Atlanta despot—the man that kept his subjects as slaves and not a person among the camp was left without budding intoxication. No matter the age, everyone was invited to be merry; if it was that children too faced the plight of a bad world, then so too should they reap the moments of plenty—or so the camp figured.
John had taken a group by the fires where wagons were drawn in interlocking semicircles for cover and Jackson sat beside the picker. Jackson was a man which normally preferred quiet reflection over boisterous singing and nearly never wore the band on his throat, and yet there he was belting out the chorus at the top of his lungs, tankard in hand, red cloth blazed around his neck—it was a contagion and those drunk enough for easier embarrassment sang proudly along:
“There is power, there is power in a band of working folk!
When we stand hand in hand,
That’s a power, that’s the power,
That must rule in every land!”
I’d taken to the outlying shadows with my back pressed against the gas-powered caleche, my own tankard in hand. I loved the warmth of that great big family, truly, but even in those days—and maybe it was that queer youthfulness which longed for individualism that made me that way then—I remained as distanced as possible when I could. I sipped the lager, it was a fine drink and my brother Billy, nearly as old as I was when I’d first taken up in the infantry, swaggered to stand beside me just as quiet for minutes and we looked at the stars and he asked me what it was like to kill a man.
“Is it hard?” he asked.
I nodded, “Sometimes.”
“Killing monsters ain’t so bad. Don’t know if I could do it to a person.”
“You could if they meant to kill you; or if they meant to do it to someone you cared about,” I promised him. In those days, spry, energized, I held no time for staring into abysses; though I still wasn’t a man fully, I pretended as one. It was about family, and it was about doing what was right—what’s right seemed to change, or I changed. The world felt stark with good and evil and even later I’d feel that sentiment well up in me, but if that’s true, I know I stand more on the latter and so I intentionally obfuscated it—this I know. If not, it might be too much to bear. I was required to lie to myself and even in knowing I lied, it was better.
Billy tugged on the red kerchief around his throat and asked me how it looked on him.
“Looks good,” I said.
“Don’t think I look stupid at all?”
I smiled over my drink, “You always look stupid.” I sipped. “The neckwear’s fine.”
“Give me a break,” said Billy; he investigated his own cup, gave it a swish with his wrist, watching its contents swirl. “Aren’t you ever afraid you’ll die?”
“Sometimes—nights like this—I wouldn’t mind it.”
“Really?” my brother asked.
“There’s always a chance of it. Every moment, I guess.”
He smiled. “I wish I had that confidence.”
“You’ll get it,” I returned his smile; it was true that he would gain the fighting spirit. It came to us all with time and reminiscing on the early days, I recall the grit and the hatred—there was learning there too though. Besides, I’d seen the squalors of a stationary man. The stagnation of a place, an unmoving home.
John put his guitar away and laughter erupted from the crowd from something said and Sibylle, cowboy hat cocked funny, traipsed across the camp to the open keg for a refill; the man there, tending the cylinders, was a man named Tandy (a foreigner and one unknown besides the way he smoked a skunk pipe and told wild stories). My mother leaned over while Tandy opened the spigot mouth on the keg, and she froze there, and I could see her there cut out forever against the light of the fires; I watched, and it came so suddenly that I couldn’t be sure what’d happened at all. It was so sudden that I couldn’t find my weapon and I couldn’t find even the courage to fight because in those moments it wasn’t courage I needed, it was grounds to understand.
Sibylle came apart in two pieces immediately, torn completely through and dust erupted as her legs struck the ground while her torso spun through the air like a top, a trail of liquid trailed after, caught in the blue of night so it shone as black; she couldn’t scream. Tandy was a statue. Before anyone could react, more flesh, other bodies, went up and there was all manner of limbs which filled the ground, and it is astounding how quickly a red mist forms across the ground during a massacre. Perhaps the wails of my comrades started before, perhaps others fell before Sibylle, but I could not comprehend the goings-on till I saw her drop the way she did.
Frail human screams rose on the night; I slammed to the ground, tankard gone away and hands scrambling in the dirt; I reached up blindly and yanked Billy to my level and his expression was one of innocence, panic, tears even. Glancing around, I saw the demons bolt from the pitch-black darkness on the edges of camp, mutants taking the fore while greater creatures lurked further back, some hurled whips of gliding metal which writhed over their heads when they stretched them out for a strike—alien—and they sliced directly through soft human bodies. Not even a cry escaped me, but Billy let go with it and I slapped my cupped hand over his mouth hard to hold the screams. His voice would not have been alone anyway, not alongside that startling cacophony. Amidst the cries of people, there were the cries of horses, of our hounds.
We rolled across the ground, slipped beneath the raised body of the gas-powered caleche, remained quiet in the dark, peeked out between the wheels.
“What’s happening?” Billy whispered through my fingers; I removed my hand from him and caught a glimpse of him framed in a square of firelight through the wheels—we lay there on our bellies and the left side of his face was glazed with dirt where I’d pulled him down.
“Shh,” I told him, “Shh, please. Please.” Not another word came while I pleaded with him, pleaded with the world to make this all a nightmare.
Through the haze and the running silhouettes painted black, I saw what might have been Jackson; he stumbled and in the moment that it took me to gasp, his head was gone from his body, his torso slid on as he collapsed, came to rest mere feet from the motor wagon. I told myself that it wasn’t him, but it probably was.
Some mutants lumbered through the camp like animated corpses, some leapt with wild energy or sprayed noxious fumes which lingered in the air; others still were amalgams of humanlike limbs themselves—fiends—exhausting terrible sounds, producing smells of sulfur, glistening with whatever liquids excreted from their oblong alien orifices. Demons ran amok, chanted in devil tongued languages, laughed madly at the destruction—others still, those which displayed some greater intelligence, broke into a song I could never hope or want to replicate; it seemed a unified damnation.
“Please,” I repeated in a whimper and Billy hushed me this time and I realized we were holding hands, squeezing for dear life as figures walked the camp, speared those half-alive, elected others for twisted carnality.
In darkness, in fright plainly, we scuttled from the recess of our hiding place, kept quiet, held to each other, and went into the wasteland where nothing was—every shadow was a potential threat, every second could’ve been the last. We were holding hands; then we weren’t.
Only a glance—that’s all I afforded my brother and nothing more—what a joke of a person I am! What a coward I was. Always.
Something got him in the dark and instead of dying alongside those I cared about, I went on, heartbeat driving me till it was all that I heard in my ears and my muscles ached and my chest heaved and sweat covered me, chilled me in the breeze of the night—it was only once I’d accepted the dark completely, crawled into a hollowed space of rocks along a squat ridge that I watched the demolished camp; it seemed no larger than a spark, but the creatures, fiends and others continued their war cries; never before had I witnessed demons participate in such an attack.
I watched till the sun came, till the fires became smoke, then I watched the band of hell creatures disband. The smell of sulfur remained in the air—copper too—and I stumbled back to the camp in a dreamlike daze, totally unbelieving of the things I saw. Among those dead on the ground, I could recognize none; among those piked from rear to shoulder, standing like morbid scarecrows where they’d been steadied against the ground, I could not want to recognize.
Many of the wagons were overturned, including the gas-powered caleche and I went to it; the metal of its body was warped but I fell to the ground by it and pushed my back against the exposed undercarriage, remained frozen there while examining the bodies, the terrible strips of skin which rested places like wet sheets of paper, the piles of bones removed and smashed and piled.
I cried so deeply that oxygen became a memory, and the shakes couldn’t be contained.
It was like that for so long, knees pulled up, face pushed between, and the wails came unafraid of whatever attention they might garner; there was no rationale, but I imagine if there had been, I would’ve welcomed death in that misery. It was a deep wound that not even my own cowardice would overcome for the sake of survival.
Unaware of my surroundings, not wanting to look up from the ground between my legs, the noise which had started out as imaginary became real and I raised my head then to listen better and wipe my sore eyes; it was the sound of clip-clop horse hooves and I mildly wondered if any of the animals had been spared. I stood and pivoted around the dead camp and there it was, a man on a painted horse with golden hair; he leisurely drove the mount through the place, maneuvering around pools of blood, clumps of body parts and upon seeing me, he smiled and offered a languid wave, keeping one of his gloved hands on the reins.
The man wore white and swished his hair back upon arriving directly in front of me. Ahoy, he offered kindly, Did you happen to see the other riders?
I shook my head, feeling numb.
Ah, he said, I could have sworn four other riders, at least, passed me on my way. His gray eyes examined the carnage. Shame. He shook his head. You are?
“H-harlan.”
He nodded and nearly offered an expression of genuine condolence before descending from the horse; the animal gave a gentle grunt and wandered away from its master to inspect a nearby group of the dead. The man offered his hand, and I took it in a shake. Mephisto, said the man. He flashed a smile again before his face grew serious. I’ve come to you to deal.
I shot him a questioning look, one of bafflement.
I heard your calls from far off. He nodded, removed a white handkerchief from his breast pocket and swiped it down his face. Hot out. He shrugged then replaced the cloth in his pocket. This, he motioned to the disarray of vehicles, of bodies, I can’t fix all this—it’s too much—but there’s a person you love, I know. I could bring them back.
“Doctor?” In retrospect it was such a naïve question.
He shook his head.
“Angel?”
He grinned and nodded, Sure.
“Demon?”
Undoubtedly. His eyes—pits of gray in that radiant face—nearly expressed solemness; he daintily shook the hair from his face and looked at his steed which sniffed a corpse. What’s the word, Harlan? There are others calling and I must be on my way soon—I can’t dally. There was a sharpness to the words. Can’t dally. We must convene soon, or I’ll mosey on.
I snorted back the clog in my nose from the tears and wiped my eyes with my sleeves. “Okay.”
Deal?
I nodded, “Deal.”
Sleep tonight, said Mephisto, Sleep and you’ll be rewarded in the morning.
“You said it’s a deal.”
He nodded and scanned the carnage before we matched gazes and then he said, Yes?
“What is it you want from me?”
Nothing you need now. He called the horse, and it came, and he swept his feet quickly from the ground and settled into position atop the animal. Sleep, Harlan. You won’t be bothered. There are worse things still over the horizon.
I watched him go till he disappeared and once he was gone, I couldn’t cry anymore and instead rummaged through the wagons for what I might carry; along the way I found John, face twisted but corpse intact. The body from the previous night that I’d guessed was Jackson couldn’t be determined but I found him nowhere else. I slid Sibylle’s holster from her hips, fell hard onto the ground and found that I could sob more. I took her cowboy hat, placed it on my head and held her pistol in one hand and the belt holster dangled from the other while I searched the other bodies; there were so many, but I could not find Billy.
Waiting for darkness, I took the spot where I rested, back against the caleche’s undercarriage, watched the sky and felt the gun in my hand; it was heavy. I put it to my head, closed my eyes, and whispered affirmations to myself then I put the pistol between my splayed legs, watched it still in the dirt, and pulled the hat down over my eyes but it did little for the smell. Though the brim of the hat cut the sky out, I watched the ground and saw circling shadows form overhead and heard calls of turkey vultures; they came to pick over the bodies. I withdrew my knees to my chest there again and laid my forearm across them and bit into my arm while closing my eyes. I had thought I was a man and for a time, maybe I was, but there in that miserable pit of despair I became a child again and if I’d become more delirious, I’m sure I might’ve called out for Jackson like it was a bad dream.
Into a fading stupor of sleep in the sun I went and when I awoke again it was dark and chilly and I was tired and hungry but too sick to eat and hardly strong enough to move; I looked at the gun and put it into its holster and left it there by the caleche. In the light of the moon and stars, I moved to gather a bolt of canvas; I unfurled the fabric and created a leaning shelter against the overturned vehicle and crawled into it. There was a hole in the canvas, and I peeked out at the stars.
Weeping came again, but not so uproarious; I was stuck there letting go of whimpers, lying on my back, feeling the tears trace in lines from the outer corners of my eyes to collect along my earlobes. In time, I fell to sleep again on the hard ground because the mourning had taken all else from me.
A pinpoint of sunlight broke my eyelids and I jerked awake and reached for the holster, but it was gone. So was the hat. I crawled from the leaning shelter and there he was.
Billy stood plainly among the dried, congealed blood-soaked field and he looked on to the horizon and all shadows were long in the midday sun which hung up there in a soft blue sky. Whether it be a dream or a spell, I couldn’t care—I charged to him and spun him so he faced me and though his face was plain and expressionless, I wrapped him into a forceful hug. He placed his hands on my back and gave a gentle squeeze; when I pulled from him, my hands on his shoulders, I saw he held Sibylle’s hat in his left hand, pinched by the brim; he’d already tugged her holster belt around his hips—he could have it all. I shook while holding him then let go to wipe my face.
“You’re alive,” I nodded.
He nodded without speaking then looked at the hat in his hand and placed it on his head and firmly pressed it down.
“Billy! Hell, you’re alive!”
The corners of his mouth twitched upward for a moment then he nodded again. “Yeah.” His eyes curiously searched our surroundings like he meant to take each detail in forever.
I slapped him on the shoulder and almost squealed. “Goddammit.” I wiped my eyes again and could do little to keep the excitement from exploding from me. “Oh, we should go. We should go on and get somewhere safe.”
He nodded toward the horizon, “’Lanta?”
“Sure.”
We packed and it was a like an ethereal phantom remained among us beside the quiet dead; turkey vultures cawed to break the silence, pecked where they pleased on the bodies, and I couldn’t want to fight them. I kept sidelong eyes on Billy with the ever-present worry that he’d vanish. Perhaps he was the phantom.
From the rear of the caleche, I removed a few sentimental books Jackson liked, essential cookware, and sparse rations for the trek. The last thing I grabbed was my shotgun and a bit of ammo.
As we set from the dead place, the terrible silhouettes that were cut from there on the horizon behind us grew in my mind with every backward glance—I wanted to fall to pieces, but I saw Billy walk alongside me and although contented is not the right word, it is the nearest. The steps of our boots were all that was heard because I could not fathom to pierce the space between us with words for fear that it would all end. It was a dream, surely. I’d lost my mind. With my hands thumbed into the straps of my pack, I saw I my hands still shook, and they would shake a lot longer—years and with memories too. The crunch of earth underfoot became a rhythm and instead of looking at my brother, I watched his shadow on the ground.
“Everyone’s dead?” He asked.
“Yeah.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yeah,” I repeated.
“How ain’t I? How ain’t you?”
To say that it was luck would’ve been too morbid. Instead of saying anything, I shrugged, kicked a loose stone, watched my feet some more, and felt a queasiness come over me. For the moment, the immeasurable deaths of those I’d left behind were forgotten in the company of my brother and a sickness welled up inside of me so suddenly that I felt that I’d fall to pieces at the slightest provocation. Finally, I did speak again, but only after steeling myself to the troubles, “Yeah, how are you alive?”
Billy shrugged at me then stumbled up a hill which overlooked trash wood wilderness where sticks lay twisted and bare and further on the sight of Atlanta was visible and I cupped a hand across my brow and Billy did the same and we looked on at the shadows of the place out there where strings of smoke rose from the skyline as a signature for the desolation of the city; it was dead. I felt it in my bones.
My hands were light while my head was heavy, my throat was dry, and the entire world seized in moments of stillness or perhaps it was my own vision which construed the world in that way; I took to the small hill which Billy had climbed and sat there and stared at the place between my feet to steady myself.
“Fire,” said Billy.
I nodded and nearly choked.
Leviathan—till then I had no belief in dragons—glided over the broken city, its winged shadow little seen but its voice was deep across the scene, letting go of roars which shook the ground. We hid among the trash wood and moved down the hill and watched the creature thrash in the air as if it was angry for its abominable life. Whatever millennia it spent in the pits of hell seemingly thrust upon it a love of destruction and pain.
My brother moved with a more assured stride and kept a cool distance and upon fleeing from the wreckage, from the outlying area of Atlanta and the place we’d left our family, he spoke little and watched me strangely whenever I took to melancholic fatiguing. We lit no fires for fear of what it could draw from the night so in the dark I’d see him watching some far-off place, maybe seeing through the reality which surrounded us, and he’d snap from it, catch my eye, and disappear for minutes to scan the perimeter of whatever place we stayed. Being alongside my resurrected brother was lonelier than I could bear, and I hoped he’d disappear for good or that I could work up the courage to end my own life. It was like purgatory explained in books and for a time, it felt endless; upon witnessing the destruction of Atlanta, we pushed to Marrietta, and it was much the same. As was Chatanooga, Nashville, Knoxville, Louisville, Charlotte. The ocean had risen so that Fayetville was gone underwater, and the Florida leg disappeared completely as far as I’m aware. I understood later that Memphis was overlooked and more places further west were alive too, but when we’d exhausted the south, we moved north and found strongholds of families or traders or even small groupings of civilization, but by and large we found nothing much in the two years that we hoofed it from place to place; it was my doing mostly—I wanted to find a place untouched by the mayhem in the area my family had once patrolled.
In retrospect, I am certain that Billy only stayed by my side for convenience; there wasn’t any of my brother left in the man that was my travelling companion for that time. He was a ghost of a person and Mephisto had preyed upon my desire in the worst moment of weakness in my life. There were nights—maybe we’d taken up in a natural alcove for shelter or we’d locked ourselves in some ancient structure for sleep—I’d watch Billy lay where he was, Sibylle’s hat and holster lying beside him, and I’d think of putting him down but he’d stir and in a brief shadow I’d see my brother as he’d been and withdraw to bury my face in fake sleep to be met with images of the night the demons attacked where I’d shake, sweat, and bite my lips so hard I’d drink blood.
Two years we marched around the Appalachians and in that time, I felt myself wither and disconnect.
Upon moving further north we met Indianapolis—that’s what it was called back then—and it was run by an older woman called Lady Lazarus; I reckon her father, affluent and dead, was a fan of Plath. Indianapolis was fortified more than most with its high walls, and its wall men, and its underground facilities which produced substantial ammunition. We—me and Billy’s revenant—were travelling with a group of traders we’d taken up with from out west; they called themselves wizards and although they seemed of the occult, their spirits discounted whatever suspicions I might’ve had of them.
I remember first pushing through that big gate; the town kept with it an indisputable malaise and though we were greeted at the gate by the leader Lady Lazarus—her brothers came along with her—and her jovial demeanor carried a certain infectious quality, I could not help but notice that the regular denizens maintained a healthy distance from their leader (the guards which followed the Lady everywhere probably had something to do with this).
Lady Lazarus touched each of our hands in greeting with enthusiasm and I could not help but notice how soft they were, how vibrant her eyes were, how much she smiled, and how beautiful she was given her age; already her head was fully gray.
Upon meeting each of us, going through the wizard traders first, she came to me, and Billy and she shook my hand then pivoted to Billy.
“Welcome. You can call me Lady.”
Billy caught her hand in his, held it longer than she’d intended so that they held eye contact, and he smiled broadly, tipped the cowboy hat on his head back to expose his smooth forehead and said, “And you can call me Maron, mam. You are quite a sight for a tired man.”
Though Maron—as he’d named himself—was more boy than man, Lady took a disturbed liking to him immediately and we prolonged our stay in Indianapolis after the wizards departed to head west.
Under the rule of Lady, Indianapolis was a theocracy, with her addressing the huddled masses at the steps of her grand abode, she’d preach for hours on sin and strife and quote her favorite passages; though reminiscent of my time with the Rednecks, I never found any truth or sincerity or freedom in her teaching—hers was more trouble, brimstone, fire and I’d had enough of that for a lifetime. Public execution was common. As was torture.
Maron distanced himself further from me, but I remained to keep an eye on him—it was not sentimentality but rather I existed without purpose and conjured some from watching my brother.
Often, Lady invited Maron to her private rooms and though the rumors and speculation ran the full spectrum of perverse speculation, every denizen feigned ignorance at her pregnancy.
Upon giving birth, the infant was malformed with two heads—her brothers took this as an omen and killed the child, put their leader in the stocks for months, and stripped her of dignity while the denizens did to her what they pleased.
Maron rose through the wall men while Lady’s brothers assumed control of Indianapolis and called themselves Bosses; in the time since Lady’s reign, the place was renamed to Golgotha for its closeness to a messiah.
I went west but always found myself drawn back to Golgotha because of some emptiness in me. It was only with Suzanne that I wanted something more and knowing them, I almost believed in a world like the one that children dream about. The world that Gemma and Andrew chased after when they left home, like the one Aggie talked about in her mother’s books. There’s a hopelessness in me that I’ll never be rid of. In the interim between our initial arrival to Golgotha and that flight from that terrible city, I cannot know how many people I sacrificed in convening with demons because I refuse to know because the number would destroy me. That is the worst of it; I do not even have courage enough to face myself or the actions of my past in any substantive way.
Mephisto tainted me so that I could speak with his kind as a dealmaker and the disease grew.
Billy or Maron or whatever he is should have been reaped long ago or better, I should never have brought that abomination alive. Such a cruel world where a deep longing like that can be inverted, weaponized. Me and him should both die; me and him should have died a long time ago.
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I'm just looking for new friends to chat, vent, and be besties with! Big fan of sending and receiving voice notes and am usually free to call (except when I'm not).
I really like to crochet (making a tote bag right now) and be creative in general. I'm very passionate about movies and my favorite genre is horror.
I don't play many video games at all, but i love Kingdom Hearts and sometimes TFT. I also like anime and my favorite at the moment is for sure JJK.
I'd also love to spotify share and listen to music together.
So, send your age and a song that’s been on repeat! I usually won't reply to one word introductions as my chats get so flooded. I mainly use discord.

Today, I want to tackle the question of why you often feel disgusted when you see your abuser or your abusive ex. It's like an instinctual reaction when you lay eyes on them, and suddenly you're hit with this intense feeling of disgust. You might see them on social media or in person, but you still have this disgusting feeling. It's like your body's saying "ugh!" and you might even feel like throwing up. But why does this happen?
The primary reason for feeling disgusted when you see your abuser is that it triggers feelings of self-disgust. You recall moments of pain and mistreatment with them. When you see them, it's a reminder of the trust you placed in them, the intimate moments you shared, and how they betrayed that trust. Seeing them brings back memories of what they subjected you to, leading to self-blame, self-criticism, and feelings of regret for trusting them in the first place.
It's more like stirring the pot of stuck emotions and sensations within you. Their mere presence serves as a catalyst, reigniting all the unresolved feelings and memories tied to the abuse. You're suddenly confronted with a flood of questions and doubts about yourself, questioning why you didn't leave sooner, why you ignored the warning signs, and why you allowed yourself to stay in such a harmful situation. These thoughts primarily blame you for staying, intensifying the feelings of self-disgust when you encounter them.
That's also the silver lining in all of this because when you feel that disgust, it indicates that there's still something within you that needs addressing. It's a signal that there's lingering self-hatred or negativity stemming from the past experiences with your ex. However, by confronting and working through these negative emotions, you can reach a point of indifference. You'll still feel disgusted when you see them, but it will be more about their behaviors rather than internalizing it as a reflection of yourself.
It's more like... you're thinking, "Who behaves like that?" It's a moral kind of disgust, directed at their actions rather than yourself. Initially, though, it might feel like self-disgust because you're reflecting on yourself in relation to them, remembering all the things they subjected you to. This triggers unresolved wounds and painful experiences you haven't fully processed yet.
But as you heal, seeing them might still evoke a bit of disgust, but it's not about the unresolved issues within you anymore. Instead, it's a moral disgust toward their behavior. It's crucial to recognize these feelings when you encounter your abuser and view them as opportunities for growth. Releasing these emotions will make you feel lighter and you will grow and recognize tour strengths. So, while feeling physically disgusted or wanting to puke when you see them is normal, it's a sign of triggering new emotions or reminding you of past experiences that still need processing.
Note from the Author
If you’re ready and you’d like my help with healing, finding peace in life and breaking free from these toxic patterns, then you can book a FREE BREAKTHROUGH CALL with me HERE. Happy healing 💙💙. Feel free to share and comment! Use this information with caution, it comes from my own thoughts & bias, experiences and research😊.

One can intellectually, verbally construct a meaning to life, but the way we live has very little meaning to it at all, actually.
A theory or a speculation and a pursuit of a belief in which one finds some kind of security or hope, becomes the meaning to life.
Every belief becomes at some point very shallow and rather meaningless, as all beliefs are. One has ideals projected by thought, and struggle to achieve those ideals. As long the mind is not acting completely, the structure of thought functions only within a very narrow area, depending on our senses and if there are fully awakened.
The meaning of life is to be useful, to be honorable, to be compassionate and make some difference to the world in finding something to live for.
The time we are working in order to make a living with the fear to make it, need to be getting rid of by all means.
The established mind creates the separating and egotistic attitude of living to observe only from the self and its limitation.
This demands a mind that does not think to any particular pattern or ideal, and is free to see what is true and what is false.
Our brain and mind uses mostly memory with the ego throughout all our multiple personalities to different people and its circumstances.
The fact is that our whole existences are mostly memories and remembrance. That is how we function in life within the field of the known and the ending of the known. Being attached to some belief for a certain feeling of security will become the emotional shackles.
There is something in all of us which is the uncontaminated and it has this caressing spectrum, which is God in its timeless journey in all of us to discover that which is love and the original meaning to life.
Are you happy in this monotonous affair of life or are you able to set the mind free beyond all facts and become creative.
In the silent mind facts has no path to exist and becomes timeless, sacred and highly receptacle and in this incorruptible is the constant birth of a spiritual mind.

Hey all, I'm sure these "what do these symptoms sound like" posts get redundant, but I'm trying to help my mom. Over the past 6 months she's been in increasing amounts of pain. I had her type out her story and I'm going to post it for her. I myself was diagnosed with fibro back in 2020. My pain is different than hers but as we know, fibro comes in all sorts of flavors. Take a look below and lmk what you think. Hope you're having an awesome and pain free day :)
"Back in November I injured my back from picking up a young child incorrectly, I picked her up with my arms extended instead of close to my core, right after I picked her up I felt a “twinge” in my lower back and thought to myself darn my back didn’t like that and set her down. I didn’t think much of it and went on with my day, by the next day I noticed my sciatia was bothering me. I waited one more day and then decided to see my acupuncturist, and she solved my problem but I noticed back pain lingered. I continued my usual daily routines and work schedule. Weeks passed and still the pain wasn’t going away. I also started to develop severe acid reflux and had no previous history then came constipation, and stomach pain after I would eat no matter what I ate or how small the meal. I started twice weekly acupuncture treatments hoping for relief. I had a little but nothing consistent. After six weeks of twice a week treatments I stopped. The back pain seem to get worse, it didn’t matter if I would try to do nothing and just relax or if I had a busy day and took care of my grandson.
The pain patterns don’t make sense, the soreness can feel like its directly in my spine or the muscles on each side of my spine. Sometimes my back muscles hurt so bad it’s the type of sore pain that you feel when you get the flu and have intense body aches. The pain is localized from my mid back down to my lower back. As time goes on the nights seem to be the worse, I fall sleep but with 1 to 2 hours I wake up with pain in extreme intensity, it feels like someone is squeezing my entire torso or crushing my spine. Heat use to help but it doesn’t bring soothing relief anymore. In the past 1-2 months the intensity of the pain has been getting worse to the point where it affects my ability to cope with the pain and I start to do short rapid breathing to cop with it, kind of like being in labor.
I decided to consult a chiropractor to be evaluated for possible disk or vertebrae damage. He had a different approach to testing and evaluating, he uses a computerized test the measures the central nervous system along with health history and x-rays. He references the sympathetic and para-sympathetic system and how those systems affect so many systems throughout the body and I was familiar with the information is why I concluded my acid reflux and stomach issues developed shortly after my back injury. After researching online I concluded that I developed Gastroparesis which is tied to the Vegus nerve and its functions. I was going three times a week for adjustments but now I’m going daily because we learned that my nervous system is so inflamed that even the adjustments cause me immense pain later that day and the next.
I feel like there hasn’t been any significant improvements yet. It’s almost getting worse the longer time passes. Nights are my most dreaded time because I only sleep 3-4 hours and I go from my bed to couch trying to change positions or use ice or heat to bring hopeful relief. Nothing seems to help, no position lying or sitting, heat or ice, resting or active. Occasionally I have a day where the pain is minimal and then I think I’m on my way to normalcy then the night or next day is unbearable. The past two days I’ve had to resort to taking over the counter pain medication but I haven’t resorted to that because I know it can cause stomach and liver damage.
Overall summary of pain; mild to extreme lower back muscle, tissue or nerve pain/ mid spine directly in my vertebrae a feeling as if some put a wedge right into my spine/ entire back muscle pain so intense that when the hot water of a shower hits it I cringe until my body adjusts/ acid reflux but has almost disappeared with the help of chiropractic adjustments, stomach pains after eating continue and are very painful/ constipation improved with chiropractor adjustments but has returned again/ Epson salt baths, hot showers, inferred sauna all help while in process but after the pain and soreness return/ physical therapy helped strengthen core but no back relief/ yoga poses or stretches don’t help/ meditative breathing doesn’t help.

It's been 6 months the incident/trigger of injury doesn’t justify the length and intensity of ongoing pain. I believe my body has been in the sympathetic mode (fight or flight) for months. I just want to understand why this is lingering so long and so intense. Any feedback is greatly appreciated."

Make friends all over the world with Counter-Strike2! It's Premier with followers and Steam friends. The world rankings are still continuing 🩷 Let's do our best in the Premier match together 🩷 Players in Japan during the daytime are welcome 💜 Viewers who are following us can participate. Beginners are also welcome Match A make-up battle mode is also possible 😊 I'm managing my friends, and I'm seeing a lot of reconnections, and I'm also managing people I haven't joined with recently and people I can't follow! ! Don't worry 😌 All our followers can join at any time, so please send us friend requests each time. Even if you accept the friend right away, there are some who do not participate, or who decline after looking at the profile.This also applies if the time zone does not suit you.If you still want to join when the time zone suits, please feel free to apply as a friend😘Next Don't forget to follow us and enable notifications to be notified when REE3 goes live! If you follow us, please watch 😺Watch the live broadcast with subtitles! We are looking forward to your followers and viewers 💛 Let's interact and play with Sniper Cat Ear Pink PINK 🩷 REE3 while participating in games and watching live live with subtitles! ! It is possible to change the character.Please comment💜Cyborg REE3 and Neko Poi-chan are off today💛Subtitles can be changed! ! English, Spanish, Russian, Chinese, Taiwanese, Dutch, French, German, Mongolian, and more! Dear viewers, please leave a comment 💜 Due to a reconnection error, the first half is delayed, and there are some unsightly scenes due to reconnection. Thank you for your understanding. We are currently reconnecting 🩷 Please also cover REE3's part during the battle. There are a lot of reconnections, but......Thank you to my friends who were on my team until the end 🩷 I set the ping low 🩷 Sniper cat ears PINK that reconnects a lot 🩷 From REE3 [There are many mistakes and violent translations in the subtitles] There are errors in language, obscene language, and jokes. Thank you for your understanding. Thank you for your understanding and cooperation]

I've been using Speak for about 10 days now. I think this Speak is made by an American company, but its content is the same as old Japanese English education and it doesn't seem to use AI. One issue is that although it’s supposed to be an English learning tool, most of it is in Japanese. There’s no practice of listening to and repeating English to develop an "English ear."
Also, the main focus is on grammar explanations, and those explanations are in Japanese. If you don't align with the grammatical trends, it results in errors. Even though it uses AI, there are predefined answers. If your answer doesn't match the intended one, even if it makes sense, it’s marked wrong.
The AI doesn't facilitate conversational practice where it corrects you and you can repeatedly practice just that part. It's very much like the Japanese method where only the Japanese-style answers are considered correct. The AI seems to do some listening comprehension, but even if you can't catch it, it moves on to the next thing. So, even if you want to practice pronunciation, it doesn't provide corrections.
Is there any real English tool that allows for listening and speaking, and understanding through listening? This just feels like an extension of Japan's flawed English education, focused on finding the correct answer, with AI only responding to predetermined conversations. If you try to change the topic slightly, you’re told it’s wrong. This doesn’t allow for free conversation.
Even though AI is being used, it’s not allowing for free conversation. I suspect Japanese people are modifying the content to fit the Japanese style. That’s why it’s becoming like Japanese education itself.
Listening comprehension doesn’t seem to be very important, as it’s all about translating Japanese to English or providing Japanese explanations. There’s no emphasis on pointing out pronunciation mistakes or methods for practicing them.
Additionally, I don’t know what level I’m at. I just progress through the daily curriculum without any review. If there were better materials, I’d look for something that focuses on conversation and listening comprehension in English only, allows for free talking with AI, corrects pronunciation mistakes and offers practice, includes review sessions, and occasionally checks your level.
I wonder why they are adopting the flawed Japanese English education method.
​
--by ChatGPT for translating by English
-- below in the original Japanese article.
​
Speakを始めて10dごろになるけど、このSpeak、アメリカの企業が作ったものだと思うけど、内容は日本の昔の英語教育と同じでAIも使っていないようだ
ひとつは英語なのに、日本語が大半を占めている。英語を聞いて繰り返し練習して英語耳を育てるということがない
またメインが文法解説ばかりで、それも日本語、その文法の傾向にあわないとエラーになる。
そしてAIを使っているのに、解答があることだ。意図している解答でないと、意味が通ってもエラーになる。
これは会話しながらAIが指摘する、その部分だけの繰り返し練習という部分がない。まさに日本式解答しか正解にしない
単語で聞き取りもAIがやっているようだけど、聞き取れなくてもOKとして次に行くこともある。つまりこちらは発音も練習したいのに、それらを指摘もしない
本来の聞いて話す、聞いて理解するという英語ツールはないのだろうか。これでは日本の悪しき英語教育延長でしかなく、正解探しであり、AIもただその一通りの会話にしか応答しない。ちょっと話題を変えていくと間違っていると指摘を受ける。これでは自由会話もできない
せっかくAIも使っているのに、フリー会話になっていない
たぶん日本人がこの内容を変えている、日本式に変えているんだと思う。だから日本語教育そのものになっている
​
聞き取りはあまり重要ではないようで、とにかく日本語を英語に変えたり、日本語の解説があったり、英語の発音の間違い指摘や練習方法などもない
​
そして今自分がどのレベルにあるのかがわからない。毎日のカリキュラム通りに進むだけであって、復習もない
ちょっと他にもっといい教材があれば、聞き取りの会話中心で英語だけのもの、AIもフリートーキングに発音の間違い指摘とその練習、そして復習も行い、どのレベルにあるのかを時々チェックできるところを探すしかない
​
なぜ悪しき日本式英語教育を採用しているのか疑問だ

Until I started subtitling the audiobook, I never considered reading the English version of LOTM. To my surprise, the quality of the English translation seems somewhat 'disrespectful' to the original book. With the money Qidian made from it, they should have hired at least one English literature graduate, if not three English literature professors, to proofread it.
Even though I'm not a native English speaker, I couldn't resist the urge to translate some parts in my own way. One thing led to another, and now I have a brand new translation of Chapter One.
Now, I have a question for my fellow fans of LTOM:

• Do you think this is a much better translation that you would like to wait and use it for subtitling LOTM's audiobooks? Or
• Do you feel the difference is so minimal that you'd prefer me to use the original translation so I can release subtitled audiobooks faster?

Here is another thread of mine discussing subtitling LOTM's audiobooks: https://www.reddit.com/LordofTheMysteries/comments/1csz252/dramatized_audiobooks_with_english_subtitles/, in case you're interested.

Ouch!
Ow…ouch!
Ow…my head is killing me!
The fantastic yet surreal dream surrounded by whispering and murmuring shattered away instantly, Zhou Mingrui who was sound asleep felt an abrupt throbbing pain deep inside his head, as if his head were ruthlessly clubbed. No, it felt more like something sharp penetrated his temple, followed by twisting and stirring.
Feeling disoriented, Zhou Mingrui wanted to turn around, clutch his head, or sit up. Yet, unable to move his hands or feet, he felt like he had lost all control over his body.
Looks like I’m still in some sort of dream, didn’t really wake up… Moments later, I might even think I'm fully awake, only to realize I'm still asleep… Familiar with such experiences, Zhou Mingrui tried desperately to concentrate, hoping to break free from the grip of darkness and disorientation.
However, trapped between wakefulness and sleep, the willpower was as elusive as smoke, difficult to control and concentrate. Despite his efforts, his thoughts kept wandering wildly, with all sorts of ideas coming and going.
How could I suddenly have a headache out of nowhere in the middle of the night?
Especially one which hurts so badly!
Could it be something like a cerebral hemorrhage?
Damn, am I going to die at such a young age?
Wake up! Wake UP!
Huh? Doesn't feel as painful now? Although it still feels like a blunt knife is cutting through my brains…
Sure thing is, I won’t be able to fall asleep any more. How am I supposed to show up for work tomorrow?
Why even bother going to work? This is a legitimate headache, perfect for time off! And no need to worry about the manager's grumblings.
Put it this way, it’s not so bad after all. Yea, free time off for me!
In between the waves of throbbing pain, Zhou Mingrui gradually accumulated a sense of elusive strength. Finally, with a determined effort, he straightened his back and opened his eyes, breaking free from the state of half-sleep and half-wake.
His vision was blurry at first, then tinged with a faint crimson hue. In his line of sight, Zhou Mingrui saw a sturdy wooden desk, upon which lay an open notebook. The papers were rough and yellowed. Where the title supposed to be, there was a sentence written in strange characters, with eye-catching thick, dark ink that seemed ready to drip.
To the left of the notebook, along the edge of the desk, was a stack of seven or eight neatly arranged books. On the wall to their right, were grayish-white pipes inset into the wall, with wall lamps at their ends.
The lamps had a classical Western style, about half the size of an adult's head. It featured a transparent inner layer made of glass and an exterior grid made of black metal.
Diagonally beneath the unlit lamp, was a black ink bottle shrouded in a pale red glow.
On its embossed surface was a blurry angel figure.
In front of the ink bottle and to the right of the notebook, lay a dark-colored pen with a fully circular body. Its tip shimmered with a faint glint while its cap rested right beside a brass revolver.
A gun?
A revolver?
Zhou Mingrui was completely taken aback. Everything in front of him felt absolutely alien, nothing looked like his own room.
Shocked and confused, he came to the realization that the desk, the notebook, the ink bottle, and the revolve were all coated with a layer of crimson “veil” from the light shining through the window.
Without realizing what he was doing, he raised his head, looking up bit by bit.
In the midair, beyond the heavy smooth darkness, hung a crimson full moon, glowing silently.
Hiss… Zhou Mingrui felt inexplicably horrified, as he stood up abruptly. However, before he could fully straighten his knees, a throbbing pain struck his head, draining all his strength. He fell, with his buttocks slammed heavily back onto the burly wood chair.
The pain didn’t stop him for a moment. Zhou Mingrui popped up, turned around in a fluster, and began examining his surroundings.
The room was not big, with a brown door on both of his sides. Against the wall in front of him, was a wooden bunk bed. Between the bed and the door to the left was a cabinet with two opposing doors and five drawers beneath them.
Next to the cabinet was a pipe of the same grayish-white, inset into the wall at the height of a person. What distinct it is that it connected to a strange looking mechanical device, which had a few of gears and bearings exposed here and there.
Items resembling coal stoves, sat in the right corner of the room near the desk, along with some kitchenware such as soup pots and iron pans.
Through the right door, was a dressing mirror with a couple of cracks, standing on a wooden base emboss with simple plain patterns.
While looking around, Zhou Mingrui noticed himself in the mirror, the present him.
Dark hair, brown eyes, wearing a linen shirt, slim, average-looking features and a rather deep outline…
Hiss… Zhou Mingrui grasped the situation immediately as many helpless and confused thoughts surfaced in his mind.
The revolver, the classical European style decorations, as well as the crimson moon that looked nothing like Earth's moon—all of them were screaming the exact same thing.
Who am I?
C-could I have transmigrated?
Zhou Mingrui's mouth slowly opened wider and wider, bit by bit.
He had grown up reading web novels, even fantasized about such scenes from time to time. However, the fantasy was incredibly difficult to accept now that he found himself in one.
Classic "Talk? Yes, yes! Action? No, no!", isn’t it?
In less than a minute, Zhou Mingrui had already started to sarcastically critique, attempting to make the best of whatever situation he found himself in.
But for the throbbing headache forcing him to think fast and sharply, he would for sure be convinced that he was dreaming.
Easy, easy, easy…taking deep breaths, Zhou Mingrui was trying really hard to make himself to calm down.
Just as his mind and body began to relax, pieces of memories started to flush, slowly flooding into his consciousness.
Klein Moretti.
A citizen of the City of Tingen, Awwa County, Loen Kingdom in the Northern Continent
Recently graduated from the Department of History at Khoy University…
His father was a sergeant of the Imperial Army, who had sacrificed his life during a colonial ware with the Southern Continent. His bereavement allowance made it possible for Klein to study at a private literature school, paving the way for his admission into university…
His mother was a devotee of the Evernight Goddess, who passed away the year Klein passed the entrance examinations to Khoy University…
He also had an elder brother and a younger sister, living together in a two-bedroom apartment.
Their family was far from wealthy, and its financial situation could even be described as somewhat strained.
Currently, the family was supported solely by the elder brother who worked as a clerk at an import and export company …
As a college graduate majored in history, Klein was proficient in the ancient language of Feysac, considering the origin of all languages in the Northern Continent, as well as the language of Hermes, which was commonly found in ancient mausoleums and often associated with sacrificial scenes and praying rituals.
Hermes?!
Zhou Mingrui's mind started to race as he reached out to rub his throbbing temples.
He cast his gaze toward the desk at the opened notebook, but to realize that the strange looking characters on the yellowed paper started to look somewhat familiar, then increasingly recognizable, and finally comprehensible.
It was a statement written in Hermes!
The thick, dark ink, seemingly ready to drip, read:
“Everyone will die including me myself!”
Hiss! Zhou Mingrui felt inexplicably horrified. He instinctively leaned back, attempting to escape away from the notebook, and the ominous statement on it.
Being so weak, he almost fell down, but managed to extend his hands in a fluster to grasp the edge of the desk.
He felt that air around him air started to roar, filled with faint whispering and murmurings. It felt just like listening to horror stories told by elders when he was young.
He shook his head, telling himself that all these were nothing but an illusion. Getting back onto his feet, he looked away from the notebook while still breathing heavily.
This time, his sight landed on the shimmering brass revolver, immediately realizing something unexplainable.
With Klein's social status, in what universe he would have the money or access to buy a revolver?!
Zhou Mingrui couldn't help but furrow his brow. Deeply puzzled, his eyes were caught by a reddish handprint at the edge of the desk, which was even darker than the moonlight, as well as thicker than the “veil”.
It was a bloody handprint!
A bloody handprint?
Zhou Mingrui instinctly flipped his right hand, that was pushing against the edge of the desk. Looking at it, he saw his palm and fingers covered in blood.
In the meaning time, the throbbing pain was getting a little bit better, yet didn’t go away, binding him like one tie after another.
Did I smash and injure my head? Zhou Mingrui guessed as he turned around, walking towards the cracked dressing mirror. After just a few of steps, a medium build figure of dark hair and brown eyes appeared clearly in front of him. The person had a distinct scholarly air to him.
Is this the present me?
Klein Moretti?
Zhou Mingrui was stunned. The poor lighting of the night obscured his vision, preventing him from clearly discerning something he had noticed. He continued forward until he was just a step away from colliding with the mirror.
Illumined by the crimson veil-like moonlight, he turned his head and began to examine the side of his forehead. A clear reflection appeared in the mirror. There, no his temple, was a grotesque wound with burn marks around the edges, blood staining the surrounding area. Grayish-white brain matter was slowly seeping out from within.

Hi friends! This is my first warm season as a knitter, I started knitting after christmas. I noticed many people do the seasonal knitting meaning they will knit warm garments from like september till march and from march till august they will knit spring and summer garments. I did give warm weather garments a try, I made one top with drops belle but I am not super happy with it since it is a thick fabric so not really great for summer, one I made with drops Paris using drops free pattern, that one is even worse, super thick and way shorter and smaller than it sould be (yes, I did meet gauge and picked the correct size). In general I enjoy knitting with wool way more than with non-streachy plant based yarns. I also heard about drops not being the greatest yarn. So my question is should I give warm weather garments another try with better quality cotton or linen yarn (I was thinking sandnes garn since it seems to be really loved in the knitting community)? Or will every plant based yarn give me this heavy, thick fabric and brand doesn't really matter? I'll just add, in general I got into knitting because I looove sweaters. Seriously, no amount of sweaters is too much for me, I'll wear sweaters every day from october till february. I'm not so sure about how much wear I would get from knitted tops since I would wear them mostly when it's really hot and when I don't want any thickness in my garments.

I had a beautiful experience where I met some mushroom beings. I ate a couple grams with an MAOI extract. Amongst many other profound parts of the trip, I met what I called the grandfather and grandmother of the mushroom.
They were some ancient intergalactic beings. I believe the spores were a sort of time capsule sent through space that held great knowledge of their people. Also it could change life of wherever it landed. Like maybe turn single cell organisms in intelligent beings.
I thanked them for sending out a part of them for us to find and they thanked me for finding it and using their knowledge. It was beautiful.
I did see them, it's a bit hard to describe. They had large eyes, that were loving and twinkled, a wide nose, not much for ears, and a large head. Sort of like someone with dreadlocks wrapped up in a hat, but they wore hooded robes like a jedi. Their skin was sort of a psychedelic pattern.
For moments I had all the knowledge of the universe, but it was hard to comprehend while staying in my body with a brain to process it. It was like I melted into the oneness and couldn't retain it. They gave me lots of love and I loved them. They were also my grandparents or the grandparents of the human race.