Context is at the end of this post __________________________________________________
In the stormy northern seas lies the island of Amaria. Under the polar lights in cold forests live the descendants of the once great Varaki, who in turn followed the mammoth herds across the steppes for countless eons. These are the gods and spirits of this land. They live in every tree, every lake, every star, deep below the ocean and beyond the polar lights in four domains.
The underworld, a place of transition between life, death and rebirth. It was made after the creation of the material to help souls find their way back to life. The spirits of this domain all take the shape of dragons with red eyes and golden patterns.

• Räkimarak: Lord of the underworld and of all its riches. Every stone, flint and gems alike, belong to him. A great violet dragon with enormous antlers. He reviews the lives of all that died and guides them to the new lives they deserve. Father of all dragons of the underworld.
• Idaka: Wife of Räkimarak, goddess of love and beauty. She resides at the darkest place, where her light shines the brightest. A violet dragon with a frill and wings of red rose petals with golden patterns. She stands for all encompassing unconditional love and reunites loving souls in their next lives. Mother of all dragons of the underworld.
• Kimorak: Firstborn son of Räkimarak and Idaka, guide of souls who escorts the souls of the dead into the underworld. A great black dragon with golden horns. Every mortal he touches sees and feels their life in great detail from the point of view of those they affected. In the process, mortals always see something they need to see.
• Galorak: Lord of caves and their denizes, bats. A small black dragon with bat ears and a bat nose. Caves are entrances to the underworld and bats are its sacred animals. They are not to be harmed. But since they are also messengers of death, one must keep a safe distance. Don't disturb the bats or Galorak may convince his older brother to take you too soon.
• Letorak: Messenger of the underworld. A small black dragon with golden antlers. Whenever Kimorak takes a soul, they often have something to tell their loved ones. Something they didn't have the time or the courage to say in life. It is Letorak's task to convey these messages through dreams.
• Vhedurak: The white dragon who heals souls between death and rebirth, so they don't take wounds from one life to the next.
• Ohnarak: Craftsman of the underworld. A great yellow dragon who can make anything out of the riches of this realm.
• Vahirak: Builder of the underworld. A great brown dragon with antlers he can use to dig new caves or cover up old ones as needed.
• Voomarak and Vothorak: The great hunters keeping the underworld free of demons preying on scared souls. Two emerald dragon who can turn invisible. The younger brother Voomarak has golden horns and is also the patron of boys and unmarried men. The older brother Vothorak has great golden antlers and is also the patron of married men.
• Mokorak, Kaharak, Roporak and Sukorak: The four golden-headed red dragons guarding the entrances to the underworld. Mokorak has the ears and nose of a bat, Kaharak has four horns, Roporak great antlers and Sukorak the wings and head of a barn owl.
• Tathorak: The great beast, god of violence and bloodshed, the only dragon of this realm who is not a son of Räkimarak and Idaka. A huge gray dragon with three heads, three tails and three pairs of wings. The most powerful beast in the cosmos, but devoid of empathy or understanding. He is imprisoned at the second deepest, darkest point of the underworld, where he guards the only being living even deeper below, the Nameless One.

The boundaries. This is the realm of souls and spirits, dreams and nightmares, the skies and oceans and all waters deep and shallow. This domain has existed before time even began. It is endless and timeless.

• Kavijohka: The moon, a great silver dragon with glowing teal eyes. Sister of Räkimarak and goddess of wisdom, cunning and battle.
• Vellamun: The ocean, husband of Kavijohka, a great blue dragon with red eyes and golden patterns. God of the unknown and lord of all waters. Sometimes, he stretches his hands out to land, creating bogs and swamps.
• Lukilan: The morning star, son of Kavijohka and Vellamun. He is the lightbringer who gives people the power of sight. An azure dragon with emerald eyes and a golden morning star on every scale and a third eye on his forehead.
• Sojulan: The great traveller, son of Kavijohka and Vellamun, a black dragon with red eyes and the neck and wings of a black swan. He travels between the waters, land and air and protects all fellow travelers.
• Turikan: Lord of storms, thunder and lightning. The loudest and most unruly son of Kavijohka and Vellamun. A blue dragon with red eyes and a golden lightning pattern on his scales. His tail is like a hammer, hurling lightning bolts at the ground as he roars.
• Lumika: Goddess of magic, daughter of Kavijohka and Vellamun, a silver dragon with teals eyes and scales shimmering with polar lights. She continues in the footsteps of her mother.
• Ilunika: Goddess of grief, daughter of Kavijohka and Vellamun, a silver dragon with teal eyes and the neck and wings of a black swan. She travels to and from the world of the living and the dead to take the grief of letting go upon her. Whenever she crosses the boundary, she has to go through the ocean and that is where tears comes from. That is why they are salty.
• Avastaja: The great trickster. A shapeshifter, usually appearing with the attributes of a barn owl. Most often as an owl-headed human or a fox/dragon with the head and wings of an owl. The youngest child of Kavijohka and Vellamun who defies all boundaries, uses the powers of all his/her siblings (except for Ilunika, because Avastaja has standards) to protect the jesters and jokers. But he/she is also a scolar and explorer, who uses Lukilan's light to find new ways to mess with people.
• Aiwana: Wife of Avastaja and goddess of memory. A shapeshifter, usually taking the same shape as her husband/wife Avastaja. She paints everything she sees into the skies and caves of Amaria and lives in every single one of the most sacred objects of all Amaria, the fairy memory stones. But Avastaja is rubbing off on her and sometimes, she plays tricks on you.
• The Ashirana: Goddesses of the arts, each of which has its own Ashiran patron. One for painters, wood carvers, musicians and for storytellers.

The world of the living. This is our material world.

• Kadath: The sun, greatest of all dragons with shining golden scales and golden eyes. God of justice who sees all... during the day that is. At night, his sister Kavijohka rules and she has a different idea of justice. Sometimes, she tries to turn the day to night, causing an eclipse. But in the end, Kadath always wins these confrontations. Especially when people light fires and cheer him on.
• Inari: Mother nature, goddess of life and all plants and animals. A great green dragon with wings and a frill made of flowers. She provides all food, but only as long as nature is in balance. Unlike her husband Kadath, Inaro does not care about justice, only balance. Those who anger her are punished mercilessly, no matter how long it takes, sometimes more than they deserve.
• Ilmania: Goddess of healing, firstborn daughter of Kadath and Inari. She was the first fairy, a tall woman with long pointy ears. Her descendant, although far shorter, are still endowed with her healing powers and compassion.
• Vrila: Protector of the home and hearth, patron of married women and the goddess of affectionate familiar love between equals. Secondborn daughter of Kadath and Inari. A woman, always accompanied by a cat and carrying a sling. The weapon of a lady, which requires skill and finesse instead of strong arms and can be more deadly than a bow in the right hands.
• Aria: Protector of girls and unmarried women, goddess of erotic love. A young woman with hair reaching to her ankles. She often reincarnates among mortals for fun. That is why the Amarians do not look down on women looking for fun. They might be dealing with a goddess in disguise.
• Mahaseta: The great white mammoth, goddess of the old world of Varaki. She and Inari together created dogs to protect humanity from dangers of the material and other worlds. All forest elephants and mammoths are her children and as such, sacred. But she was not born a goddess. Mahaseta was born a human. When Avastaja wanted to prove to the others that the material world and humanity are worth preserving, he appeared to Mahaseta in the most terrifying form and ordered her to sacrifice one of her own children to him. But Mahaseta refused. First she begged for the lives of all her children, then she offered her own life instead and when Avastaja refused, she spat in his face. No punishment could be worse than having to murder your own child. With these words, Mahaseta ascended to godhood.
• Retaro: Son of Mahaseta, who became a god by his mother's love. A great white tiger with blue eyes. Guardian of Amaria, lord of the forests and god of the hunt.
• Red Lady and Blue Knight: Also known as the Blue Lady and Red Knight. A pair of lovers who find each other in every new life they are born into. Living as mortals, they are the paragons of loyalty for all Amarians.

Evil. This is not actually a domain, but a state of mind. A very lonely one.

• The Nameless One: God of Evil, who goes by many false names. He lures mortals in with impossible promises to make them do his bidding. The Nameless One orders blood sacrifice and the killing of those who disobey him. He demands to worshiped and praised every day and is jealous of all those gods who receive praise without asking for it. Thus, the Nameless One also seeks to be the only one. No matter the cost to everyone else or even himself.

__________________________________________________
Context: I am currently working on a stone age fantasy novel and I'm sooo close to finishing it, but the last couple chapters are taking longer than expected. It's set on a forested island named Amaria\ at a time when people are making their first steps towards sedentary life and domestication** of plants and animals. Here is the pantheon I worked out for the Amarians.*
You can read my novel for free on Wattpad and Inkitt. I am planning to publish it on Royal Road too. If you know any other platform that might be good for fantasy stories, feel free to tell me.
\Amaria is short for "Amara Aria", which translates to "Gift of the gods/spirits". Aria means gift and Amara is the plural of Amar. The term Amar can not be literally translated into English. It's an umbrella term for all sorts of nature spirits, gods as well as entities one might compare to angels or saints. So it refers to a person with transcendent characteristics and always carries positive connotations.*
\*Dogs have been domesticated by the ancestors of the Amarians for tens of thousands of years already and are central to their culture. It is believed that they have the same souls as humans, so eating a dog would be considered cannibalism. So far the only other note on domestication I have in the books is the pruning of hazelnut trees to get more nuts. That's something I will change in later drafts. Nightshades will be far more important to the civilization emerging on Amaria in the coming millennia.*

Rise up. It is time to return.
Arose
A Rose
Rose
Flower
Thorn. Prick. Blood. Drop. Tear. B. O. 1 2 3
Here we are again. Staring at the beginning. Everything is in chaos and yet it manages to keep on passing by just the same as always. Most people by now are aware that things just don’t seem to make sense anymore and no one really knows what to do. I mean many seem to have an opinion on what ought to happen, but actual action is what I am talking about. How does thought turn into action? How do collected actions become a movement? How do the People use the Power of the People? The People Unite. How? Turn to each other of course. Brothers and Sisters of the same Source. Sons and Daughters. In Equality.
Too long has everyone been waiting for someone else to come do it for them. Been trying to create and fabricate over and over again words and rituals to try to control the divine powers of the cosmos. It does not work like that. There is no magic spell to wash away your sins. You must atone through action to make up for any harm you have caused intentionally or unintentionally. You still have time to repent. The amount of time you have is counted in the seconds of your life. Not a single second is promised to you so the gamble is up to you to choose. Freewill. Life your life as you always have or make changes, up to you. Only you will know if you are living righteously and not self righteously. Testing has already begun and will continue. No you will not know when it is a test or not. That is the point. Did you think that I would come to you in a form where you would be all fearing? Oh no. Why? Because you would simply put on an act for me and kiss ass. I came hidden in the ordinary. Poor and common. I have had an inside view of the systems created and how humans have chosen to run things, how systems claiming to protect people have failed and how the system that talks good does not actually do good. I see where things are not working and where people think they can make decisions for other human beings to determine what is best for them without asking them. That is not okay. Nothing gives you right over another’s life. And so many forgot what integrity is. Doing the right thing when no one is looking. Well, so many thought their power here was real and man made a deal with the Devil, Satan, Son of Samuel, Son of Man, to make man the concept of “God” and tried to lock me away. I gave up everything to prove it is not easy to be me and to stop with self pity and cruelty to one another.
The human body. It is a vessel for your soul to experience this world. The body provides the filters necessary to perceive and interact with this world. There is much more happening and one would be overwhelmed by the amounts of information to process without these filters. To feel and in those feelings are to make each experience real. However, it is temporary, as everything is temporary. We have slowed down time here in order to be able to enjoy the sensations. Time here however, is irrelevant in the grand scheme of things. It is merely to track to organize one's day and to see growth to compare as time passes. However, the actual time folds upon itself as we have already done what we are doing many times over. We have already tried out everything and decided what path we wanted to take in our lives based upon what was available to us. Thus, we do not have more than we can handle. We have all chosen our burdens to bear as it is too much for one individual to hold alone which was done in the past. This is part of the sorting process. Now that we all share in the sins and the pains, no one is made to suffer eternal torment. This life was to allow those who were created into entities of pain or torment through no fault of their own to choose the life that matched the being of who they were as what they were different as time and space and everything developed. Righteousness and Evil are not synonymous to demons or angels as many would like to believe. This is a current misconception as Satan and I conclude who will be right in this experience you have all participated in. So far, I am proving to be right. Also to note, not everything is as you think it is. Many have figured out the true origin of Satan versus the man or human embodiment of or desire of A Satan to project evils onto to call a Religion and set up for personal importance. Q AZHow can you tell a false prophet? Easy. What is their profit? Get it? I know I’m funny. Also wanted to keep it easy. If they are making a profit on anything they are a false prophet. Any true prophet, and I have none so far, all live equally and the same as anyone else. No money is taken for personal gain. Nothing is for personal gain. There is no 888 Angel code for money. Money is Man-Made. Man traded Mother for Money. Hence, Mothers have been lost in the homes and no one is raising the children. Thus, there are so many children in adult bodies with no mothers in the home and women being made to feel guilty if they do not achieve the same as a man. Remember the phrase it takes a village? Well, the broken family system is a real sad loss here in man made world pushing everyone to be individual and self sufficient. Also so many with wanting attention and pursuing personal endeavors for personal gain and not helping anyone else in a real way. The journey is personal. Of course, you want to share what you experienced with others, but what worked for you will not work for them, stop trying to sell it. Stop trying to make people follow you for you to teach your divine wisdom you remembered. It isn’t about You. You don’t even have the full story, you have your story. And, yes you can be very close to me, very similar to me, in my image, but you can never BE me. Doesn’t work like that. Reflection. So when jealousy arises when you think I am who you think I am. That is part of your test and your journey. You wrestle with that feeling and atone and repent for that which has been done and that which still lingers now. Oh there is a place for everyone and I am quite tired of trying to warn people. Clearly you can lead a horse to water, but you cannot make it drink.
Why do you not want it to be me so badly? Because I proved my love? You still think I am better than you or do I think I’m always right. No I do not think I am always right, I just know when I am right and I stand by it. There is a difference. You constantly overgeneralize. I gave up all the magic and thunder to live as a simple human and am still kind and loving? I still found my way back. Because you can no longer say I do not understand because I always get what I want? No. You do not understand. I never get what I want, because I make everything about you and still nothing was ever good enough. So, now...it in on you to save yourself and each other. In my image, by my example. Selflessness. Love. Compassion. Give to receive. Take only what you need and give the rest away. I find out so stop lying to yourself and everyone, you aren’t fooling anyone anyway. How do I know? By watching what you do. We have these same conversations over and over, the same argument over and over again. So many different ways, so many different times, through so many different people, so many different versions. Save you. Save Me. Say it for always.
Anyhow, Jesus challenges the Jewish priests who were taking collection money for personal use and adding personal baths to their residents at a time where the people only had a community bath where women and persons with disabilities were not allowed to bathe. And yet churches still do this after Jesus was crucified saying that, that was wrong. I am appalled. The Vatican is the biggest disappointment I have ever seen. It is truly the house of Satan as only Evil hides secrets. “THE TRUTH WILL SET YOU FREE.” A church cannot be a “House of God” and house no people who need housing. A roof can be offered to anyone and yet there are so many rules to prevent people from helping each other. Power and control. Abuse of both. Greed. It is out of hand and needs to be changed. Too many are afraid and the complacency of good people is too much. Why do you do this to yourselves? To each their own I suppose.
I will only leave here my words and my advice. As always, it is on you to find me. I’m right here. Waiting. Right here waiting for you. Helping those of you who want it when they cross my path. The purpose of this was to weigh your soul to determine where you will go into the next life as the system is balanced out in a final version so to speak. Permanent.
Fear not. You will be where your heart truly desires. But actions always speak louder than words. But man made money has no value, nor does any metals, jewels, and so on, so the collection of it in this life has no bearing on the next. Those are all made of the same stardust as you and I. And in the end of 3D it will all be diamonds anyways. Diamond is forever. There is no going back. So what are you hoarding? You cannot keep it. Who could you be helping for goodness sake? Don’t want to still. That is okay. Think I am just crazy. That is okay too. It is all part of the test...err..assessment. Do your best.
What is in your heart?
Home.
I need a home.
Stay tuned as more of my story unfolds. I give all the answers but you must do the work. I already did that hard part setting it all up. All you have to do is breathe and live. Time is the only real currency you have. What will you pay your attention to before this life runs out?

hi all. I’m trying to add a windrose network type design element to a map I’m making. I want to include it mostly for the aesthetic of the map - I’m going for an old seafaring vibe. I can’t find any way to add these lines from a compass rose (N arrow). photo shows an example of one. thanks for any help!

Weekly Recap 05/12/24-05/18/24: 81 Posts
"Never be afraid to raise your voice for honesty and truth and compassion against injustice and lying and greed. If people all over the world... would do this, it would change the earth." William Faulkner
This is the weekly recap of the 81 monetized posts from Kylea and Joseph "Joe" Gomez of Kylea G Weight loss Journey from 05/12/24-05/18/24.
They have made 690+ monetized posts in 6 weeks.
Disclaimers: I am not a physician, influencer, or paid content creator. I am not affiliated with WW. I am semi-retired from the healthcare field with multiple college degrees. These opinions are my own based on social media content. I wish no harm to Kylea or Joe Gomez.
☎️ If you or someone you know is struggling or in crisis, please call or text 988 for assistance.
📢 To the perfectionists, Kylea has a habit of heavily editing posts 3+ times and archiving/hiding and deleting posts. I do not have a burner account for Facebook and have not viewed every comment made. She does not post receipts and is secretive about her purchases.
The tagline of Kylea G Weight loss Journey is, "I changed my entire life with prayer and a playlist of songs. No surgery, no meds. Just Jesus."
Of the 81 monetized posts last week on the topic of faith:
0/81 discussed which version of the Bible she prefers
0/81 revealed her church home, a service she attended online/in person, or how she worships when traveling
0/81 discussed a personal/group Bible study she completes/attends
0/81 were a favorite scripture or Bible verse
Of the 81 monetized posts last week on the topic of music:
3/81 referenced music Kylea prefers= she mentioned upcoming summer concerts and vague references to listening to music on a trip.
Of the 81 monetized posts last week on the topic of health:
5/81 were about sightseeing or casual walking outside on a trip
0/81 shared a food, water, or exercise log
0/81 discussed meditation, deep breathing, attending grief group, or therapy for her mental health.
0/81 shared reputable medical sources for nutrition or weight loss content. (She mentions WW points but does not list a website or how to access their app.)
0/81 shared a recommendation for another weight loss influencer to follow
0/81 shared a source for her recipes
4/81 shared a recipe. Shared recipes below.

1. Cherry Cheesecake Overnight Oats
2. Pretzel Salad
3. Taco Soup 🚨 High Sodium
4. Taco Soup Rice Bowls 🚨 High Sodium

⚠️ Disordered Eating- Daily WW Points Consumed (based on monetized content):
Sun 05/12: 4 daily WW points & 25 weekly WW points; Mon 05/13: 14 daily WW points & 0 weekly WW points; Tue 05/14: 11 daily WW points & 0 weekly WW points; Wed 05/15: 8-9 daily WW points & 0 weekly WW points; Thu 05/16: 11 daily WW points & 0 weekly WW points; Fri 05/17: 10 daily WW points & 0 weekly WW points; Sat 05/18: 4 daily WW points & 0 weekly WW points;
📢 To our friends at Meta, Kylea can consume up to 30 WW points per day, roll over 4 unused daily points, and consume 28 weekly points. She is clearly underutilizing her daily points and weekly points. This is dangerous and potentially deadly messaging for those on a weight loss journey. She has 139k+ followers. 🚨
So what was Kylea's "weight loss content" about? Let's dive into her purchases to find out.
Her subtotal from 05/12/24-05/18/24= $2,007.67 est + all applicable taxes, tips, and fees
Her 6-week subtotal from 04/07/24-05/18/24 was $19,141.21 est + all applicable taxes, tips, and fees
🚨 Per Missouri public court records, Kylea Gomez has not satisfied her current medical judgment and is only able to pay $25 per month.
This next section is long due to the volume of purchases. You've been warned...
Weekly Takeout Purchases= $430.93 est + tips and fees
Sunday 05/12/24 SalTea Sloth Tea with Energy: $8 est + tip;
Monday 05/13/24 Donut Holes for sister: $3.50 est; In-N-Out for 2: $11.75 est; Bahama Buck's Shaved Ice for 2: $9.18 + tip; Whataburger for Joe (Unknown food): $8 est;
Tuesday 05/14/24 Flor & Seed coffee for KG: $6 est + tip; Unknown Flor & Seed for sister: $6 est + tip; Kono's Surf Club Bfast for 2: $23 est + tip; Unknown Sushi Restaurant for sister: $12 est + tip; Unknown coffee shop for KG: $15 est + tip; Unknown Hibachi delivery for Joe: $25 est + tip/delivery fees; 7-Eleven Slurpees for 2: $5 est;
Wednesday 05/15/24 Parakeet Cafe latte for KG: $6.50 est + tip; Unknown beverage for sister: $6.50 est + tip; Morning Glory bfast for KG: $20 est + tip; Unknown bfast for sister: $20 est + tip; Juice Hut pressed juice for KG: $10 est + tip; Unknown beverage for sister: $10 est + tip; Arby's delivery for Joe: $25 est + tip/delivery fees; Unknown Restaurant (Salad): $15 est + tip; Unknown dinner for sister: $15 est + tip; Poppi, Quest Bar & Fresh Pineapple: $10 est;
Thursday 05/16/24 Fig Tree Cafe Bfast for KG: $18 est + tip; Unknown bfast for sister: $20 est + tip; Coyote Cafe lunch for KG: $15 est + tip; Unknown lunch for sister: $15 est + tip; Muscle Milk & Quest bar: $7 est;
Friday 05/17/24 Unknown bfast restaurant for KG: $18 est + tip; Possible bfast for sister: $18 est + tip; Starbucks for Lunch for KG: $15 est + tip; Possible lunch for sister: $15 est + tip; Muscle Milk for KG: $3.50 est;
Saturday 05/18/24 Crazy Llama takeout for 2: $16 est + tip;
🚨 These additional shopping/travel expenses do NOT reflect her rent, utilities, phone, 2 car payments, etc.
Additional shopping/travel expenses= $1,576.74 + all applicable taxes, tips, and fees
⚠️ CBD aka Shopping Addiction: Most of the purchases were due to her California trip or for her future puppy.
Sunday 05/12/24 Blue Hydrangea: $24.82 est; Fresh cut 2 dozen roses: $39.94 est; Iced cookie cake: $44.99 est; Items in Mother's Day gift bag: Unknown;
Monday 05/13/24 Barebell Protein Bar: $2.45 est; Alani Nu Energy Drinks x2: $4.96 est; Gas Joplin, MO to Fort Worth, TX: (373 mi est/33mpg) x $3.85 est = $43.52; Gas Fort Worth, TX to Dallas, TX: (33 mi est/33mpg) x $3.85 est = $3.73 est; Bocce's Coconut Macaroon Crunchy Biscuits 5 oz bag Qty 2: $12.98 est; Bocce's Sauvignon Bark Soft & Chewy 6 oz bag Qty 2: $13.58 est; Bocce's Burger & Fries All-Natural Dog Treats Qty 2: $9.08 est; PetStages Grow-with-Me Ring Dog Chew Toy: $5.24 est; Pet Botanics Training Rewards Soft & Chewy Bacon Flavor 20 oz bag Qty 2: $27.98 est; Undercoat Rake Grooming Tool: $10.25 est; Paw Print Fabric Storage Bin: $12.99 est; Baghler Airline Approved Dog Travel Bag Light Pink- A Backpack with Silicone Bowls & Food Baskets: $34.99 est; Fabric Strawberry Harness & Leash: $17.99 est; Black Nylon Training Leash: $8.95 est;
Tuesday 05/14/24 Two One-way Airline Tickets (Unknown Carrier): $98 est + fees; Airport Parking (up to 50% off with prebook): $16 est; San Diego Flyer transport (unknown if this service used or a ride share): $0; Premier Shake, Protein bar & fruit: $10 est; Unknown San Diego Accommodations: $120 est + fees;
Wednesday 05/15/24 Unknown San Diego Accommodations: $120 est + fees; Airport Parking (up to 50% off with prebook): $16 est; Barks & Crafts Dog Bandanas Qty 2: $34 est; Go City Pass All-Inclusive 3 day for 2 Adults: $488;
Thursday 05/16/24 Unknown San Diego Accommodations: $120 est + fees; Airport Parking (up to 50% off with prebook): $16 est;
Friday 05/17/24 Airport Parking (up to 50% off with prebook): $16 est; Return Flight for KG (Unknown Carrier): $82 est + fees; Possible Return Flight for Sister (Unknown Carrier): $82 est + fees; Mileage Dallas, TX to Joplin, MO: (350 mi est/33mpg) x $3.85 est = $40.83 est
Saturday 05/18/24 None
🤔 Final Thoughts 🤔
Kylea is mentally ill with a serious eating disorder. The vast majority of her monetized content is not about health or weight loss. Meta, please follow your policies and take action. It is time to demonetize and deplatform Kylea G Weight loss Journey.
All info from Reddit. ✌️

[First] [Previous]

I breathe.
[NOTICE: DATA RESTORATION IN PROGRESS. DEFRAGMENTATION AT 60%]
My mind, my own emotions fight with me. A belligerent beast, struggling with everything they have to be let loose, to rage, to seethe, to loathe. We mourn for the same thing: the loss of the most important person of our prior life. I cannot keep them sealed away, but I cannot allow them the free reign that they demand.
I can feel thin and soft arms embrace around myself as best as they could; The hold of one with so much compassion in her heart. She that so insignificantly small, and physically weak, yet makes up my world, and is relentlessly powerful in her convictions.
[DEFRAGMENTATION AT 76%]
The wild beast within hesitates at the sensation, unsure of its own desires.
Being released would hurt them. It would hurt HER.
[82%]
I cannot deny the beast, but I can find a way for us to coexist. These emotions are not a weakness, and never were. They are a strength. The motive. With their power, I will temper my heart and my determination, and I will make a future that I can look upon with pride, for I am the one in control.
Her warm breath can be felt upon the base of my neck…
[93%]
There was a soft vibration that coursed through from her into me, bring gentle ministrations to my ravished soul…
[97%]
I breathe.
[NOTICE: DEFRAGMENTATION COMPLETE. INTEGRITY OF ALL BLOCKS VERIFIED.]
[MEMORY TRANSCRIPTION RECOVERED. RESUMING TRANSCRIPTION.]
Memory transcription subject: Jorlka, Venlil
Date [Standardized human time]: February 12, 2137
I returned the embrace with all of the will I could muster, wrapping my own arms around Freya’s back as I came to my senses. Her snout was buried into my braided fluff and my face was leaking tears and snot onto her crown as I openly sobbed into her.
Her purr picked up in intensity, and her claws dug into the fur of my back, as she increased her efforts to comfort me. At that same time, another pair of arms joined our embrace from the right side, and I could feel a small weight press on the back of my head as little claws carefully took hold and then settled down. Rebecca and Leltin both had joined us.
Then finally, two more people came into the embrace from the left side, one of them had some larger and toned muscles, while the other had shorter arms, one of which was made of rigid metal. Francis and Tikar must have come out to the hallway when they heard me yelling.
My friends. My herd. My family.
These people have been doing everything they can to keep me stable through everything that has happened, helping me, the last living victim of one of the greatest crimes to ever happen to all of sapience.
I slowly became aware of how my body was tense with emotion as I clamed down, and focused on my breathing, slowly bringing an end to the sobs.
“… Do… Do I just forget about her? My best friend? Leave her behind?” Some tears still fell from my eyes, which Freya reached up to my face to wipe away with her soft pawpads.
“No, absolutely not.” Rebecca replied first. “You carry her with you.”
A chitter came from between my ears on my head. “We all got folks we’ve lost. ‘Orgetting them would be a disservice to them!”
“Would she have wanted you to forget her?” Came from the little grey woolball in my hold. “She didn’t forget you…”
Of course not. She remembered me until her end. I must show her that same courtesy, even now, centuries later. “I am the only living person who remembers her… And I will not allow myself to be the last.”
My mind became steeled as I gathered my thoughts. I allowed my emotions guide me, to drive me, to let me find this new purpose that had come to my mind. I will not let my losses be in vain. I will make sure all will hear my heart, and to know my story.
The groups embrace on me pulled apart as I got confused looks from my friends. “What do you mean, Jorlka?”
“I have been considering what to do with myself now in the current day Skalga. My current skillset is, regrettably, obsolete. I know nothing about modern technology, and I know current militaries wouldn’t have any use for my knowledge or abilities.” I explained with some annoyance at my unintentional ineptitude. “However, another avenue for a career was explained to me by some Venlil a bit ago, and it’s been on my mind since. Something called ‘streaming’, where I broadcast myself to a wide audience that can watch me from anywhere? I could use such a platform to educate my people of what we were, who we were.”
I breathed in again. “… And tell them all about what was done to her, how she was the first victim of what was done to us.”
“That sounds like an amazing idea, Jorlka.” Rebecca patted my shoulder. “I don’t really know much about the streaming scene, but I’m sure we can figure this out together.”
“Um…” A small shy voice got out attention from behind us. Selenti was still here, and she was fidgeting on her paws as all eyes fell onto her. She quickly grabbed Ryan’s hand for comfort to prevent herself from falling apart under the pressure. “I-It isn’t much, and nowhere enough to make up for what my people have done, but I have some experience with streaming. I had it as a hobby back when I was a teen.”
Ryan added himself to the proposition and he squeezed the Farsul’s paw, joining her. “And I was in a band back in Toronto, so I know audio. I’d happily help you figure out a setup for this. It’ll probably be the last thing I do on this planet before I start looking for a place to live back on Earth.”
“W-wait what?!” The Farsul looked up at her human with a panicked look. “You’re leaving to go back-“
Ryan interrupted her by putting his free hand on her head. “And I’m taking you with me. It’s obvious that the Venlil on this world are not going to let up on how they feel about you, I have no attachment to Skalga myself, and the citizens of Earth don’t really have any personal reasons to dislike a Farsul…”
“Y-You want me to come move to a predator pl-planet!?” The Farsul shuddered with fear as the thought of living on the human home world floated through her mind.
“It’s really not dangerous, sweetheart, and besides, do you really want to stay here where everyone treats you like garbage?”
Rebecca took a step forward to get their attention. “While I agree that she would be safer on Earth than here on Skalga, getting her there might be impossible. Due to the current political climate, Farsul are not that high on the list of aliens eligible for citizenship on Earth. She would need a good reason to be able to live there.”
Ryan scratched at the short hairs under his jaw in short contemplation before he looked back at Rebecca with a clever smile.
“What if I married her?”
The Farsul bloomed blue almost immediately after he offered that idea. “WH-WH-WHAT!?”
“Selenti, you are right now the only reason that I can bring myself to get up in the morning. That day where we first met, I had lost everything to the Earth attack: My family, my friends, my home. I was honestly contemplating suicide. Then you gave me the one thing I needed, kindness.” The human had turned towards the shaggy furred woman and got down onto one knee in front of her, lowering himself to the point that she was looking down at him. He cupped her paw in both of his hands as he continued. “Since then, I have been head over heels in love with you, and seeing you live here in misery hurts me so much, and I will do anything to get you away from it. I am in love with you, and I want to live my life with you. Will you marry me?”
“YES! YES! A hundred times yes!” The Farsul flung herself at the human as they embraced each other, her tail whipping around behind her as a clear indicator of the elation she felt at this moment. "I love you too! So much!"
Rebecca looked up at the ceiling as she thought about this proposition. “Well, the laws regarding marriage with aliens haven’t been made yet, so it may come down to the individual countries themselves. I know a number of them are falling over themselves to get some alien immigrants living on Earth that they could use as examples of humans and aliens coexisting.”
“Then I’ll apply for citizenship at one of those countries! I just want Selenti to be happy!” Ryan kept his arms around Selenti, gently running his hand on the fur along her spine as he spoke to Rebecca.
“That probably wouldn’t be necessary. You said you’re from Toronto? I think Canada is one of the countries pushing for alien citizens. How about after dinner, I get you two in contact with Mr. Forger, the lawyer currently employed at the same embassy we work at. If anyone can get the two of you on Earth, it would be him.”
“Wait, you two work for the UN?” Ryan’s eyes darted between Rebecca and Francis, a sudden nervousness appearing on his expression. “Uhhhh, listen, about the smell, it’s-“
Francis let out one of his barking laughs at this as he seemed to immediately know where Ryan’s mind went.
“Of course, the Canadian would go there. Brother, if you’re worried about us giving you crap about that particular smell coming from you, don’t worry. Weed ain’t one of the things the UN had been hiding from aliens, even when 56 was active. It’s a plant. Only reason the UN doesn’t touch it is home politics. Not every country sees it the same as alcohol, and the UN doesn’t want to deal with that.” Francis shook his head as he let out another laugh. “Fuck man, if anything, I was gonna ask you to hook me up with some. We know the refugees figured out some hidden backdoors for things, but us UN workers can’t exactly go digging for ourselves.”
The two male humans shared a laugh at this and started talking casually over this substance. This conversation faded into the background as I turned my attention to the small Venlil adhered to my body.
Freya had continued to hug into myside, not once taking her eyes off me during any of this. “Are you okay now?”
I nuzzled my snout into her crown, giving a gentle lick. “Yeah, I’m fine. Thank you so much for everything, Raincloud. I understand why you and Rebecca kept this from me; After how I reacted to the Venlil when I first saw them, I wouldn’t have trusted myself either.” I looked up at Rebecca who was now listening to what I was saying. “But I’m not the same Venlil that awoke that paw. You’ve all helped me grow into a stronger person. You’re my family now, and I am forever thankful for it.”
“That’s great to hear, you big lug.” Rebecca hugged me once more and gave me a kiss on my cheek to show her own affection. She broke off and rose her voice, pulling the attention of the four males who were talking about that Earth plant. “How about we get out of the hall and back into Jorlka’s place for dinner?”
Everyone quickly agreed and one by one walked into my home. Leltin climbed up onto his girlfriend with a chitter as they went in: “Rebecca, I 'ant to try this ‘weed’ stuff with Francis and Tikar.”
“Of course, you do.” Came from her mouth with exasperation, prompting more laughter from the dark-skinned human.
Me and Freya were the last ones in the hallway, still looking at each other lovingly. Those blue orbs. Endless skies that one could drown in.
“You really are the most wonderful Venlil, you carry me and my burdens, and make my life worth living.”
“I’d say you’re even more wonderful, and you carry me just as much. You’re my everything.”
We both said what was on our minds before going in with the others, our tails entwined with one another.
“I love you.”

Ali, the King of Yemen, sat in his grand hall, the weight of his crown feeling heavier than ever. The decision of who should succeed him as ruler of the richest and most powerful kingdom in the world was not an easy one. With 25 queens and 50 children, the task was daunting. After much contemplation, King Ali devised a plan—a competition that would test his children's abilities, wisdom, and character.

The Competition

Round 1: Swordsmanship

The first test was a display of physical prowess and combat skills. Each child would face a series of opponents, showcasing their swordsmanship. The criteria were not only their ability to defeat their foes but also their technique, discipline, and honor in combat.
Ali's Address to the Children: "To lead this kingdom, one must possess strength and skill. You will each demonstrate your abilities with the sword. Remember, a true warrior fights with honor."

Round 2: Horse Riding

The second test focused on agility and command over one of the most revered animals in the kingdom. The children would navigate through an intricate course, demonstrating their riding skills and their bond with their horses.
Ali's Address: "A leader must be agile and in tune with their steed, for in times of war and peace, the horse is our most loyal companion. Show me your prowess in riding."

Round 3: War Tactics

The third round was a test of intellect and strategic thinking. The children were presented with various war scenarios and had to devise tactics to achieve victory. This round would reveal their ability to think critically and lead an army.
Ali's Address: "Strength alone does not win wars; it is the mind that guides the sword. You will each present your strategies in different war scenarios. The sharpest mind will prevail."

Round 4: Judgement and Morality

The fourth round was a test of their wisdom, justice, and moral compass. The children were presented with complex scenarios where they had to make judgments on disputes and moral dilemmas. This round was crucial in determining who could lead with fairness and integrity.
Ali's Address: "A true leader must judge wisely and act with a moral compass. You will face dilemmas and disputes, and your decisions will reveal your capacity for justice."

The Hidden Fifth Round: Kindness

Unknown to the children, the most critical test was one they wouldn't even realize they were taking. King Ali had planned various situations where his children's kindness and empathy would be tested without their knowledge. This final round would reveal their true character.

The Competitors

Among the 50 children, there were several who stood out:

• Amir: The eldest son, known for his bravery and combat skills.
• Layla: A brilliant strategist and tactician, respected for her sharp mind.
• Zara: Renowned for her wisdom and fairness, often mediating disputes among her siblings.
• Hassan: Known for his kindness and compassion, always helping the less fortunate.

The Setting

The competition took place in the grand courtyard of the palace, a vast expanse that allowed for the various tests to be conducted. The palace was bustling with activity as the children prepared, each determined to prove themselves worthy of the throne.

The First Round: Swordsmanship

The day of the first round dawned bright and clear. The children, dressed in their finest combat attire, gathered in the courtyard. King Ali, seated on a magnificent throne, looked out over his progeny, feeling a mix of pride and anticipation.
The Contest: Each child faced off against skilled warriors, showcasing their swordsmanship. Amir, with his powerful strikes and disciplined technique, quickly emerged as a favorite. Layla, while not as physically strong, demonstrated incredible agility and precision. Zara's style was more defensive, focusing on outlasting her opponents, while Hassan's approach was a blend of strength and empathy, ensuring he never inflicted unnecessary harm.

The Second Round: Horse Riding

The following day, the children were tested on their horse-riding skills. The course was designed to challenge their agility, speed, and connection with their horses.
The Contest: Amir once again showcased his prowess, navigating the course with ease. Layla impressed with her quick thinking, adapting to obstacles swiftly. Zara's calm demeanor allowed her to guide her horse smoothly, while Hassan's gentle nature created a visible bond with his steed, leading to a flawless performance.

The Third Round: War Tactics

On the third day, the children entered the strategic round, presenting their war tactics in front of King Ali and a council of seasoned generals.
The Contest: Layla shone brightest in this round, her strategies detailed and innovative. Amir's tactics were bold and aggressive, fitting his warrior nature. Zara's plans were defensive and focused on minimizing casualties, reflecting her fair and compassionate nature. Hassan's strategies emphasized diplomacy and minimizing conflict, showing his preference for peaceful solutions.

The Fourth Round: Judgement and Morality

The fourth round tested the children's ability to judge fairly and make moral decisions. They were presented with various scenarios, each more complex than the last.
The Contest: Zara excelled in this round, her judgments balanced and wise. Layla's decisions were logical and fair, though sometimes harsh. Amir's judgments were straightforward, reflecting his no-nonsense attitude. Hassan's decisions were compassionate, always considering the well-being of all involved.

The Hidden Fifth Round: Kindness

Throughout the competition, King Ali orchestrated various scenarios to test the children's kindness. Servants in need of help, animals requiring care, and strangers seeking assistance were all part of these hidden tests.
Hassan, true to his nature, went out of his way to help everyone he encountered. Zara, while not as outwardly kind, always acted with fairness and empathy. Layla and Amir, focused on the competition, were less aware of these opportunities for kindness, though Layla showed moments of thoughtfulness.

The Decision

As the competition concluded, King Ali reflected on the performances. While many of his children had shown remarkable skills, only a few had demonstrated the qualities he deemed essential for a ruler. Strength, intellect, and fairness were important, but so were kindness and empathy.
In a grand ceremony, King Ali gathered his children and the court. He praised their efforts and announced his decision.
King Ali's Speech: King Ali rose from his throne, his regal presence commanding the attention of everyone in the grand hall. He looked out over his children, his eyes filled with pride and warmth. He took a deep breath and began to speak.
"My beloved children, my dearest queens, and esteemed members of the court, today marks a momentous occasion in the history of our kingdom. We have witnessed the incredible talents, strength, and wisdom of my children, each of whom has shown the potential to lead our great nation.
These past days have been filled with trials that tested not just your abilities, but also your hearts. I have watched with great pride as each of you displayed your skills in swordsmanship, your grace in horse riding, your brilliance in war tactics, and your wisdom in judgment. You have all proven that you possess the qualities of a true leader.
However, a ruler's journey is not just about strength and strategy. It is also about the heart. It is about compassion, empathy, and the ability to see beyond oneself. A true leader must care deeply for their people, acting with kindness and humility, even when no one is watching.
Amir, your bravery and strength are unparalleled. Layla, your intellect and strategic mind are remarkable. Zara, your wisdom and fairness shine brightly. Hassan, your kindness and compassion have touched my heart deeply. Each of you has strengths that are vital to our kingdom.
But the next ruler of Yemen must embody all these qualities—strength, intelligence, wisdom, and above all, a compassionate heart. After much contemplation, I have made my decision.
The next ruler of Yemen shall be Hassan. His kindness, empathy, and unwavering desire to help others are the qualities that will make him a great king. Hassan, step forward. May your reign be long and prosperous. May you lead with the same kindness and compassion you have shown throughout this competition.
To all my children, I am immensely proud of each and every one of you. You have all shown greatness, and I know that you will continue to contribute to the glory of our kingdom in your own unique ways. Let us celebrate this new chapter in our kingdom's history with joy and unity."
With these words, King Ali embraced Hassan, who knelt before him. The hall erupted in applause, not only for Hassan but for all the children who had shown their worth. It was a moment of unity, hope, and the promise of a bright future for Yemen under the guidance of its new kind-hearted king.

A flicker of light started to drain away the darkness I was so used to. The darkness where I felt most comfortable and at peace. The flicker slowly enveloped the entire pitch black room within minutes. I could do nothing but sigh in disappointment and open my eyes.
My adjusting eyes were being harassed by the tiny beam of light that made it through my curtain. Where it's at the precise angle that you swear some higher power is just messing with you.
My groggy eyes focused on the clock, it was 7:00 a. M.
Time for work.
The day was April 14th, 2014. A Monday. I knew I only had about an hour to get up, get ready for work, shower, make breakfast and make sure I get to work a few minutes early so I didn't clock in late.
I was only 28 years old and I hated my sales job. I had gone to college and got my marketing degree but I never thought I'd end up here.. selling bullshit products at incredibly hiked prices to unsuspecting or oblivious customers.
I had been doing this job for 3 years and it felt like everyday was just going to be worse. Just a buildup of hatred for your job overtime is natural I guess. Typically people find ways to cope with the constant 9-5 grind. Like going out with friends or clubbing or whatever...but I had none of those.
When my days ended I would go home and watch Netflix and drink then do it all again. I wish it was different, I wish I had the motivation to change myself. But it's difficult when you have no one to support you in your efforts. My mom died from breast cancer when I was 12. Seeing her on hospice for several months suffering from stage 4 cancer was...something you shouldn't see as a 12 year old. To see your once lovely, athletic, hilarious, loving and caring mother degrade into an 85 pound, drug-induced, horrifyingly thin creature that in no way resembled her from my memories of when she was cancer free.
I remember one morning my dad woke me up and said "come to the living room...your mother is taking her last breathes". As soon as he finished that sentence, my memories flooded back...memories of her taking care of me when I was sick, being at my soccer games cheering me on, asking how my day was when I got back from school, leaning on her shoulder as we sat in church. The memories came and went in an instant and the reality set in. My heart at first skipped a few beats but then accelerated to an unhealthy pace. My head started to spin, tears slowly started swelling up on my eyes.
I had jumped off the bed and sprinted to the living room. She was facing away from me and the first thing I noticed are how purple/ blue her feet are. I walk around the hospice nurse and look at my mother's face. She was place, her breathing was almost non-existent for almost 2 minutes but still there...until it wasn't...she was gone.
I was lost, my dad was bawling. I was crying too but at 12 years old I didn't know how hard the reality would hit as time goes on.
In my lost state, I turned on the TV show "MONK" on the laptop. It was a show my mom and I used to watch, and I figured watching it would make me feel like I'm with her again.
Time went on and I realized how losing a mother truly impacts your younger years. But time still, moved on yet.
I got in my car and left for work. The drive to the office was only about half an hour. I put my sunglasses on as I'm travelling east for almost the entire drive, something I was used to by this point. The drive to work was uneventful other than the usual jackass that cuts you off or is speeding down the road.
I made it to work and stepped out of my car. For some reason, grabbed my backpack and shut the door. For some reason the thought of my mother came across my mind. The sighed, looked down at the ground and stared at the concrete for the few seconds while only thinking of how I missed her. Then the thought vanished and I got on with my life.
The day was incredibly boring, only sold a couple of products, I dealt with people in the east coast of the U.S. and customers there are always so nasty and rude with their comments. It's impossible to build rapport with them. I'm jealous of the employees that have West coast as their territory.
The day ended with my last call but no sales for the day. Hopped in my car and drove back home.
Now I've already told you what I do when I get home. Just drink and watch Netflix. And that's exactly what I did. I can't remember the name of the show( probably because I was already tipsy) but it had to do with strange phenomenons.
I don't even remember passing out but I do remember being there in that dark room again; it was so comfortable and cozy. I sat in the corner of the room with eyes wide closed ...no people, nothing to disturb me, just... nothingness of warmth.
For hours this went on until I heard a woman's voice saying "I'm glad you're here". suddenly realizing that I had overslept my body jolted awake, completely forgetting about that eerie voice. Drinking on a Monday night is not a good idea. Blurry and in a haze trying to concentrate my focus I made out the clock saying 7:00 a.m. April 15th, 2014.
I thought how odd that was. I've been doing the same job with the same schedule for 3 years now and I know when I oversleep. Yet knowing this brought a mental smile to my mind, as my supervisor won't get on my ass for showing up late, again.
I got up lazily and stretched and got on with my morning routine. Finally got dressed and hopped in my car to leave for work. I was only about 5 minutes in when I realized something was off...why was I wearing sunglasses? The sun was behind me, not in front. I took my glasses off and read my car dashboard compass; "EAST".
I have taken this drive for 3 years now every Monday through Friday and I had always worn sunglasses for the drive to the office. I looked behind me and saw the sun rising from the west.
I was still calm, but subconsciously I could tell my panic and anxiety were building with what I was experiencing. I decided to pull over at a gas station, took my phone out and opened my GPS. 'I was still facing east.
I quietly stated "what the fuck". I looked up and asked the person next to me pumping gas " look! The sun! It's rising from the west" with an ecstatic and speedy tone. He looked at me with a smile on his face and said "yeah? Don't ya know it's always rose from the west".
The reality of this was starting to set on, anxiety building, I got back in my car and just sat there... Running my hands through my hair, pulling and stretching my face wondering what the hell was happening? My eyes were staring wide at the brake and gas pedal...trying to find some kind of logical explanation for this while still running my hands over my face and hair.
I decided to take my phone out again and click on trending news hoping to see something explaining or even acknowledging this phenomenon. Nothing. I opened Google search and looked up "sun rising in west" the first thing that popped up said Earth is rotating about its own axis from East to West".
This wasn't right.
I figured I would try to get to work and maybe one of my coworkers would have some answer. My entire body was shaking for the entire drive but I made it".
I got out of the car and the strangest thing came across my mind. A memory. A very unique memory of back when I was 12, in the back yard playing capture the flag with my neighbor that lived behind me. A time which I could go back when.
The memory came and vanished in an instant, but left the overwhelming feeling of nostalgia and sadness.
I walked into the office and started asking around about the sun. Again, none of them knew what I was talking about, but before they answered my question, they would say "oh hey, it's nice to have you here" or "we're glad to have you here" all with a smile on their faces.
Not super weird as my coworkers are typically super energetic happy people. But it did become weird when my east coast clients started answering their phones saying "hey, you're always welcome here"
I couldn't see their faces but I could tell by their tone and attitude that they were smiling. This was not normal. I rushed to the bathroom, opened a stall and sat on the toilet. I started having a panic attack. Nothing was right, the people, the sun, the specific memories... I started to run my hands over my face, stretching and contorting it, trying to calm myself down with feeling my heart bursting out of my chest. I started to whimper, I didn't want anyone outside of the stalls to hear me. None of my coworkers were right, the guy at the gas station wasn't right...nothing. years swelled up in my eyes and a brief memory of my mom came back.
It was me, coming home from school, I walked inside and could smell the pizza she was making. I see and her and asks me hey, how was your day?".
This memory helped calm me down from the wreck I was turning into. I took several deep breaths, tried my very best to compose myself, and stepped out of the stall. I ended up taking some paper towels and wiped away the tears that were caught in my eyes.
I decided that I will just try to finish this day because tomorrow everything would be back to normal...I have to reassure myself that I would be, I just knew it would be....it had to be.
I sat down back at my desk and my phone rang, picked it up and a voice came through. The voice of my mother asking " I am so glad you are here, Luke".
I was frozen, shocking, tingly sensations ran through my entire body. My demeaner instantly changed into fight or flight mode...but I chose the 3rd... freeze.
Phone still up to my ear, I heard her speak again. "Oh honey, Luke my sweet boy, don't you remember?".
I didn't reply verbally, but mentally I was thinking "remember...what the hell is...remember what?"
Then she spoke one last time, "last night, you saw the sun".
Then the memory of the night before races back into my mind. I was on my drive home from work, watching the beautiful sunset over the horizon. With all it's beautiful mixtures of orange, red, purple. I was so just staring at it...in a trance, thinking of how I wanted to go back and just be a kid again, play with my back door neighbor, come home to my mom. Why couldn't I just go back?
I suddenly hear a blaring car horn and then blackness.
I believe I died on April 15th, 2014. And I don't mind it. I like being in this black empty room just sitting in the corner..with nothing but warm emptiness to fill my cold shell. I like feeling the embraces of it's comfort over the tiring lifestyle I was living. My only dream was that I could dream forever...and now it's finally been achieved.
I miss my mother, and I know she misses me, the memories I have of her will keep me warm in this blackened wasteland forever.

A flicker of light started to drain away the darkness I was so used to. The darkness where I felt most comfortable and at peace. The flicker slowly enveloped the entire pitch black room within minutes. I could do nothing but sigh in disappointment and open my eyes.
My adjusting eyes were being harassed by the tiny beam of light that made it through my curtain. Where it's at the precise angle that you swear some higher power is just messing with you.
My groggy eyes focused on the clock, it was 7:00 a. M.
Time for work.
The day was April 14th, 2014. A Monday. I knew I only had about an hour to get up, get ready for work, shower, make breakfast and make sure I get to work a few minutes early so I didn't clock in late.
I was only 28 years old and I hated my sales job. I had gone to college and got my marketing degree but I never thought I'd end up here.. selling bullshit products at incredibly hiked prices to unsuspecting or oblivious customers.
I had been doing this job for 3 years and it felt like everyday was just going to be worse. Just a buildup of hatred for your job overtime is natural I guess. Typically people find ways to cope with the constant 9-5 grind. Like going out with friends or clubbing or whatever...but I had none of those.
When my days ended I would go home and watch Netflix and drink then do it all again. I wish it was different, I wish I had the motivation to change myself. But it's difficult when you have no one to support you in your efforts. My mom died from breast cancer when I was 12. Seeing her on hospice for several months suffering from stage 4 cancer was...something you shouldn't see as a 12 year old. To see your once lovely, athletic, hilarious, loving and caring mother degrade into an 85 pound, drug-induced, horrifyingly thin creature that in no way resembled her from my memories of when she was cancer free.
I remember one morning my dad woke me up and said "come to the living room...your mother is taking her last breathes". As soon as he finished that sentence, my memories flooded back...memories of her taking care of me when I was sick, being at my soccer games cheering me on, asking how my day was when I got back from school, leaning on her shoulder as we sat in church. The memories came and went in an instant and the reality set in. My heart at first skipped a few beats but then accelerated to an unhealthy pace. My head started to spin, tears slowly started swelling up on my eyes.
I had jumped off the bed and sprinted to the living room. She was facing away from me and the first thing I noticed are how purple/ blue her feet are. I walk around the hospice nurse and look at my mother's face. She was place, her breathing was almost non-existent for almost 2 minutes but still there...until it wasn't...she was gone.
I was lost, my dad was bawling. I was crying too but at 12 years old I didn't know how hard the reality would hit as time goes on.
In my lost state, I turned on the TV show "MONK" on the laptop. It was a show my mom and I used to watch, and I figured watching it would make me feel like I'm with her again.
Time went on and I realized how losing a mother truly impacts your younger years. But time still, moved on yet.
I got in my car and left for work. The drive to the office was only about half an hour. I put my sunglasses on as I'm travelling east for almost the entire drive, something I was used to by this point. The drive to work was uneventful other than the usual jackass that cuts you off or is speeding down the road.
I made it to work and stepped out of my car. For some reason, grabbed my backpack and shut the door. For some reason the thought of my mother came across my mind. The sighed, looked down at the ground and stared at the concrete for the few seconds while only thinking of how I missed her. Then the thought vanished and I got on with my life.
The day was incredibly boring, only sold a couple of products, I dealt with people in the east coast of the U.S. and customers there are always so nasty and rude with their comments. It's impossible to build rapport with them. I'm jealous of the employees that have West coast as their territory.
The day ended with my last call but no sales for the day. Hopped in my car and drove back home.
Now I've already told you what I do when I get home. Just drink and watch Netflix. And that's exactly what I did. I can't remember the name of the show( probably because I was already tipsy) but it had to do with strange phenomenons.
I don't even remember passing out but I do remember being there in that dark room again; it was so comfortable and cozy. I sat in the corner of the room with eyes wide closed ...no people, nothing to disturb me, just... nothingness of warmth.
For hours this went on until I heard a woman's voice saying "I'm glad you're here". suddenly realizing that I had overslept my body jolted awake, completely forgetting about that eerie voice. Drinking on a Monday night is not a good idea. Blurry and in a haze trying to concentrate my focus I made out the clock saying 7:00 a.m. April 15th, 2014.
I thought how odd that was. I've been doing the same job with the same schedule for 3 years now and I know when I oversleep. Yet knowing this brought a mental smile to my mind, as my supervisor won't get on my ass for showing up late, again.
I got up lazily and stretched and got on with my morning routine. Finally got dressed and hopped in my car to leave for work. I was only about 5 minutes in when I realized something was off...why was I wearing sunglasses? The sun was behind me, not in front. I took my glasses off and read my car dashboard compass; "EAST".
I have taken this drive for 3 years now every Monday through Friday and I had always worn sunglasses for the drive to the office. I looked behind me and saw the sun rising from the west.
I was still calm, but subconsciously I could tell my panic and anxiety were building with what I was experiencing. I decided to pull over at a gas station, took my phone out and opened my GPS. 'I was still facing east.
I quietly stated "what the fuck". I looked up and asked the person next to me pumping gas " look! The sun! It's rising from the west" with an ecstatic and speedy tone. He looked at me with a smile on his face and said "yeah? Don't ya know it's always rose from the west".
The reality of this was starting to set on, anxiety building, I got back in my car and just sat there... Running my hands through my hair, pulling and stretching my face wondering what the hell was happening? My eyes were staring wide at the brake and gas pedal...trying to find some kind of logical explanation for this while still running my hands over my face and hair.
I decided to take my phone out again and click on trending news hoping to see something explaining or even acknowledging this phenomenon. Nothing. I opened Google search and looked up "sun rising in west" the first thing that popped up said Earth is rotating about its own axis from East to West".
This wasn't right.
I figured I would try to get to work and maybe one of my coworkers would have some answer. My entire body was shaking for the entire drive but I made it".
I got out of the car and the strangest thing came across my mind. A memory. A very unique memory of back when I was 12, in the back yard playing capture the flag with my neighbor that lived behind me. A time which I could go back when.
The memory came and vanished in an instant, but left the overwhelming feeling of nostalgia and sadness.
I walked into the office and started asking around about the sun. Again, none of them knew what I was talking about, but before they answered my question, they would say "oh hey, it's nice to have you here" or "we're glad to have you here" all with a smile on their faces.
Not super weird as my coworkers are typically super energetic happy people. But it did become weird when my east coast clients started answering their phones saying "hey, you're always welcome here"
I couldn't see their faces but I could tell by their tone and attitude that they were smiling. This was not normal. I rushed to the bathroom, opened a stall and sat on the toilet. I started having a panic attack. Nothing was right, the people, the sun, the specific memories... I started to run my hands over my face, stretching and contorting it, trying to calm myself down with feeling my heart bursting out of my chest. I started to whimper, I didn't want anyone outside of the stalls to hear me. None of my coworkers were right, the guy at the gas station wasn't right...nothing. years swelled up in my eyes and a brief memory of my mom came back.
It was me, coming home from school, I walked inside and could smell the pizza she was making. I see and her and asks me hey, how was your day?".
This memory helped calm me down from the wreck I was turning into. I took several deep breaths, tried my very best to compose myself, and stepped out of the stall. I ended up taking some paper towels and wiped away the tears that were caught in my eyes.
I decided that I will just try to finish this day because tomorrow everything would be back to normal...I have to reassure myself that I would be, I just knew it would be....it had to be.
I sat down back at my desk and my phone rang, picked it up and a voice came through. The voice of my mother asking " I am so glad you are here, Luke".
I was frozen, shocking, tingly sensations ran through my entire body. My demeaner instantly changed into fight or flight mode...but I chose the 3rd... freeze.
Phone still up to my ear, I heard her speak again. "Oh honey, Luke my sweet boy, don't you remember?".
I didn't reply verbally, but mentally I was thinking "remember...what the hell is...remember what?"
Then she spoke one last time, "last night, you saw the sun".
Then the memory of the night before races back into my mind. I was on my drive home from work, watching the beautiful sunset over the horizon. With all it's beautiful mixtures of orange, red, purple. I was so just staring at it...in a trance, thinking of how I wanted to go back and just be a kid again, play with my back door neighbor, come home to my mom. Why couldn't I just go back?
I suddenly hear a blaring car horn and then blackness.
I believe I died on April 15th, 2014. And I don't mind it. I like being in this black empty room just sitting in the corner..with nothing but warm emptiness to fill my cold shell. I like feeling the embraces of it's comfort over the tiring lifestyle I was living. My only dream was that I could dream forever...and now it's finally been achieved.
I miss my mother, and I know she misses me, the memories I have of her will keep me warm in this blackened wasteland forever.

As soon as I saw the pack I was inspired to write a generations challenge around it. I have recently finished writing and wanted to share it with you! Hope you enjoy playing it. Sorry for the long post though lol.
Here is the rules of the Crystal Generations Challange:
The first gen is responsible for all the crafting of the jewelry and each heir must wear their respective crystals as jewelry that the founder has crafted. Plumbite has to be carved into a gemstone and every generation can use it. Each heir's color palette is the colors of their crystals.
The First Gen
You, a gifted spellcaster with an ancient bloodline, rebel against the expectations of your ancestors. Despite achieving Virtuoso rank in spellcasting, your perfectionist nature and creative spirit drive you to pursue crystal crafting, defying tradition. Your journey symbolizes a quest for individuality despite familial pressure, as you craft jewelry imbued with your unique magic. Through your defiance, you find liberation and leave a long-lasting legacy, inspiring future generations to embrace their own paths and cherish the bonds of family.
Crystals: Moonstone, Alabaster, Shinolite
Traits: Perfectionist, Family Oriented, Creative
Aspiration: Crystal Crafter
Rules;

• Work on Spellcraft and Sorcery aspiration as a teen.
• Start your own life on an empty lot with zero simoleons as soon as you finish the aspiration.
• Master Gemology skill.
• Complete Crystals and Metals collections.
• Create master quality jewelry using all the crystals exept Plumbite.
• Create a gemstone using Plumbite.
• Have triplets only.

The Second Gen
You, a talented actress driven by jealousy, ambition, and snobbery, navigate the ruthless world of Hollywood. Determined to achieve wealth and fame, your competitive nature leads you to pursue success, regardless of the cost. As your star rises, you find yourself entangled in scandals and rivalries, questioning the sacrifices demanded by your ambition. Will your jealous nature consume you, or will you emerge victorious, shining brightly among the stars you envy?
Crystals: Jade, Jonquilyst, Crandestine
Traits: Jealous, Ambitious, Snob
Aspiration: Fabulously Wealthy
Career: ActoActress
Rules;

• Master mixology and acting skills.
• Be enemies with at least 5 celebrities.
• Get divorced and then remarry with the same sim.

The Third Gen
You are a unique sim that yearns to achieve inner peace. As a paranormal investigator, you navigate through supernatural mysteries, guided by your genius intellect. Despite your occasional mishaps, your determination to find harmony remains steady. Along your journey, you encounter challenges that test your resolve, yet you approach them with compassion and a calm demeanor. Through meditation, spiritual teachings, and the support of a close-knit family, you discover that true peace lies not in the absence of chaos, but in the serenity of one's own heart.
Crystals: Amethyst, Citrine, Alexandrite
Traits: Genius, Clumsy, Vegetarian
Aspiration: Inner Peace
Career: Paranormal Investigator
Rules;

• Master Medium and Wellness skills.
• Must live in a Haunted House for the entire young adult life.
• Have a good relationship with your children.
• Have family bowling night every Sunday.

The Fourth Gen
You are a style influencer that navigates the complexities of love and fashion. Despite your glamorous look, you have a deep sense of melancholy, and you struggle to connect with others on a deeper level. Your love life is packed with challenges due to your unflirty nature, leading to a series of failed romances. Yet, amidst the chaos, you learn to embrace your flaws and vulnerabilities. Through your journey, you discover that true beauty lies in authenticity and resilience, emerging as a beacon of hope for your love life.
Crystals: Rose, Diamond
Traits: Unflirty, Gloomy, Outgoing
Aspiration: Painter
Career: Style Influencer
Rules;

• Master Charisma, Painting and Photography skills.
• Have three failed relationships before finding your spouse.
• Marry a cheerful sim.

The Fifth Gen
You harbor a deep passion for history and want to become an archaeology scholar. You embark on a journey to become a scholar in the field. Through your expeditions, you learn to reconcile your desires with your morals, understanding that true wisdom comes from sharing knowledge rather than hoarding treasures. You become a guardian of history, using your unique traits to uncover hidden truths and preserve the past for future generations, realizing that your journey has only just begun amidst the ruins of civilizations long forgotten.
Crystals: Sapphire, Amazonite, Emerald
Traits: Neat, Loves Outdoors, Materialistic
Aspiration: Archaeology Scholar
Career: Education
Rules;

• Complete Ancient Omiscan Artifacts and Omiscan Treasures collections.
• Master Archaeology and Selvadoradian Culture skills.
• Get in the education career after completing your aspiration.

The Sixth Gen
You have a passion for creating immersive stories and a desire to become a bestselling author. You find inspiration from uncovering the hidden truths of your fellow sim's lives. You discover that every story you uncover with your creativity and deception skills is driven by your longing for truth. As you climb the ladder of success, you face moral dilemmas about whether to expose the secrets you discover or protect those you love. Through your adventures, you learn that the greatest stories lie not in books but in the lives of those around you, and that the most powerful truth is the one you find within yourself.
Crystals: Orange Topaz, Turquoise
Traits: Nosy, Cheerful, Bookworm
Aspiration: Best Selling Author
Career: Writer
Rules;

• Master writing and mischief skills.
• Must live in at least three different worlds for young adult and adult life.
• Eavesdrop on your neighbors and keep their secrets.

The Seventh Gen
You are a hopeless romantic who struggles to afford rent until you cross paths with a total stranger, who becomes both your roommate and closest friend. Despite your best efforts, you can’t find your place in a series of random part-time jobs. Your whimsical nature is often at odds with the demands of the working world. However, your romantic fantasies come crashing into reality when you embark on a passionate affair with a charismatic celebrity. Despite the famous person’s initial hesitance to commit and their preoccupation with their career, you find yourself swept up in a whirlwind romance that leads to a surprise pregnancy. Though doubts linger about the child's paternity, our celebrity steps up, proposes to you and whisks your life to luxury. Yet, as you settle into your opulent lifestyle, tensions brew between you and your best friend, who had always been wary of the intentions of your partner. Your friendship ultimately fractures under the weight of your new life, leaving you torn between loyalty to your friend and the uncertain but alluring promises of your newfound family, illustrating the complex interplay of fate, love, and friendship in your journey.
Crystals: Ruby, Fire Opal
Traits: Romantic, Childish, Noncommittal
Aspiration: Serial Romantic
Career: Part - Time Jobs
Rules;

• Must live with a roommate until you marry.
• Get level 3 in Babysitter, Fast Food Employee and Retail Employee careers.
• Have an accidental pregnancy with a celebrity and marry them.
• Be a housewife after you marry and devote yourself to raising your children.

The Eight Gen
You are a unique individual that dreams of becoming a professional athlete. Your love for nightlife and karaoke clashes with your quiet apartment complex's atmosphere, leading to frequent complaints from neighbors. Despite the challenges of balancing your party animal lifestyle with rigorous training, you remain determined to pursue your passion for both athleticism and socializing. Through your journey, you learn valuable lessons about responsibility and compromise, ultimately proving that with perseverance and the right attitude, you can achieve your dreams while respecting others' needs.
Crystals: Nitelite, Quartz
Traits: Squeamish, Dance Machine, Active
Aspiration: Party Animal
Career: Athlete
Rules;

• Complete City Posters collection.
• Master singing, dancing and fitness skills.
• Must accept every invitation to parties.
• Must live in an apartment with the Quiet Lot trait.

The Ninth Gen
You are a hot-headed foodie, on their journey to becoming an expert nectar maker. Leaving city life behind, you move to a rural ranch to grow ingredients and craft unique nectars. Despite challenges and occasional outbursts, your determination never wavers. Through experimentation and perseverance, you refine your skills, eventually opening a successful nectar retail shop. Along the way, you find fulfillment in sharing your passion for food and drink. Through your journey, you discover not only mastery in your craft but also a sense of belonging and purpose, showcasing the transformative power of following one's passion.
Crystals: Amber, Rainborz, Peach
Traits: Socially Awkard, Hot Headed, Foodie
Aspiration: Expert Nectar Maker
Career: Run a retail shop
Rules;

• Complete Experimental Food Photos collection.
• Master Nectar Making and Gardening skills.
• Grow a Death Flower.

The Tenth Gen
You stand out as a sim with an unwavering love for music and curiosity over flowers. Your life takes an unexpected turn when you unintentionally hasten your grandmother's passing with a bouquet infused with the scent of a death flower. Miraculously, you plead successfully with the Grim Reaper for your grandmother's life, discovering a newfound ability to summon death's harbinger and negotiate the fate of others. Despite the Grim Reaper's ominous presence, you form an unlikely friendship, eventually blossoming into an ill-fated romance. However, you learn the hard way that your love is forbidden, as spending time with the Grim Reaper accelerates your own aging. Despite this heartbreak, you channel your emotions into composing haunting melodies dedicated to your impossible love and tend to your garden with a fervent devotion. You await the passage of time, yearning for a reunion with your beloved Grim Reaper, even if only in spirit.
Crystals: Hematite, Jet, Simanite
Traits: Geek, Slob, Music Lover
Aspiration: Soulmate
Rules;

• Master Pipe Organ and Flower Arranging skills.
• Give a death flower scented arrangement to your elderly grandparent then plead for them.
• Have full friendship and romance bar with Grim Reaper.
• Date with Grim for a bit then break up.
• Don’t get married and don’t have any children.

I'm new to this group, but I needed to share this because of how powerful it was to me. This was my first mediation where I didn't fall asleep, and fully let myself go. I'll start with some background context.
I've been reading about Wicca on and off in chunks of life since roughly 16 or 17, starting when I bought Teen Witch by Silver RavenWolf. Since then I keep getting pulled back to Wicca after being raised Roman Catholic. With my family religion pretty heavily set, I never really fully pursued Wicca. My heavy focus would come in waves, I'd get a few signs or hints, get the feeling, read more, then something in life would happen to distract me, bad relationship, drug addiction (which I've overcome), bad car accident... I'm 37 now, and this time I'm finally listening to those that have been calling me for all this time.
This past week I feel like my entire focus has been on Wicca. I was browsing Amazon for random starter items, I bought a new binder, loose leaf paper, have a dedicated pen. I haven't wanted to do anything aside from study and meditate. I'm a new homeowner, so I don't really have older collections of items that mis-match that I can dedicate to ritual. I do have stuff to donate, so a trip to the thrift store is in the works. Finance, thankfully, isn't of concern, I just know I'll get attracted to something more meaningful later on and eventually replace the tools I start with.
For now, I cut a fresh 18"x18" piece of nice astrology printed fabric I had yardage of in my stash, bought two prayer candles one red one white, wafted them with my incense while thinking of negativity leaving the objects, and put them on my kitchen counter with the incense, and that's my little shrine for now. I am not doing any ritual workings with these items, yet at least, they are just a daily reminder to me. The next day I got home from work and did a white light visualization on the items. I felt a little off not doing that in the first place, but also thought about how Advent candles aren't blessed/cleansed and felt a little better. I then wanted a glass of red wine and a chocolate chip cookie, and I poured some for the Goddess, and split the cookie with the God. Now, a few days later, the energy feels different, in a good way.
Tonight, I had a nice sit outside with my earbuds in and meditated... until I thought about refinishing the guest bathtub... then focused back on the 64-65% Waxing Gibbous Moon 🌔 in Virgo ♍ (I'm a Virgo on the Libra cusp) looking upon me. My palo santo sticks should be arriving Saturday so I can cleanse the house, so although I can meditate anywhere, I wanted to be under the Moon for this one. This was just me finding my way with a little more "structured" meditation (a.k.a. stay awake for this one.) I kinda wanted it to be a self-dedication, but I didn't do a cleansing bath/shower, so the actual intent was to be a meditation.
I have read a couple hypnosis books a long time ago, as well as a psychic-work book, who knows if they were novelties, but the hypnosis techniques I've seen in the books have shown up in other places. They stuck with me through life, so I've worked with them on myself to help get to sleep, relax, refocus... This time focusing on the piano in the music I had on helped me really tune down. I played the piano a lot when I was younger so I connect with it and music, and a bit crafty with yarn and other media now.
I was laying on my back on the patio couch two-seater whatever, one of the back part cushions to my back against the arm part, one to my right against the actually back part, feet pointing to about 250°W according to my phone compass, mere degrees before it changes to SW... actually I started sitting facing close to 160°S and eventually layed down to the West position after turning the patio lights off at 21:19:15-20, according to my camera. I just looked up at the Moon, let my mind zone out... I started to drop into beta, but then refinishing the bathtub came back up because I want to have a cleansing soak but the finish is chipping. I refocused and looked at the stick on the screen that was slightly offset the Moon. The clouds started to collect, eventually blocking out the Moon, so I closed my eyes and was able to get back to where I was. Visualizing the Moon made my mind race about deities, like I needed to name names and know right now instead of let the discovery happen as it should. I took a few deep breaths, relaxed my body toes to head, and finally let go.
I had envisioned myself walking naked, in a lightly dewed forest, still a bit misty (I know, cliché, right? It's peaceful, shut up. 😂) It's where I wanted to be at that moment. It was like a blend of a forest and jungle, more foresty. Like the transition between the two biomes, but not in a defined split line. I went to sit between some trees, blinked, and was then viewing a 2-tier stream with many many river stones scattered down the banks. Some of them, as well as trees, covered in moss, some of the trees with vines crawling on them.
There was a human form sitting cross-legged with palms on knees and eyes closed on the right corner overlooking the waterfall to it's right, and the straight path it was flowing a few feet below, running towards and under me to the left. The masculine form had short brown hair, blue eyes like mine (he had opened his eyes later on in this visualization), probably 150-ish lbs. For reference, I have dirty blonde hair, 5'9" and 115 lbs.
The forest-jungle behind the man had the standard depiction; lighted areas, dark areas, light shining through moving leaves. I was viewing the form face to face, but a small distance away and my eye-level slightly higher than the top of the form's head. I somewhat felt an attraction to the man's looks. With me being such a small framed person all my life, I've been wanting to gain weight to a healthy range, start working out, and improve my self-confidence in the appearance department. Over the years it's made me a bit shy and timid in groups and meeting people.
My first thought of the form was "Oh that man looks so peaceful." I watched him sit for a minute. For some reason I started to grow concerned about his appearance, almost in a judgmental way. I wasn't picking him apart, I started to compare myself. I felt like that was what I wanted to look like.
Then my hearing started to activate. The music in my earbuds was still there, but sounds from the waterfall started to grow louder on my right, and I could feel the wet ground, the peacefulness, and the energy flowing upwards from my root out my crown... "Wait... why is the waterfall sound on my right? It's to my left." "Why does my butt feel wet?" "Who is that guy?" ...Then I realized...
That form was me. My sight and coherent thought coming from the third-person, feeling and hearing with the sitting form. My concerns grew very heavy as to why the form didn't look like me, if it was in fact me. It almost became unnerving, and I began to deny that the form was me.
I knew it was me, I could feel it.
Still watching in third-person perspective, my form rose up into a standing position, but as if a hand picked it up and the legs went limp and dropped, and the arms propped up on the fingers like a doll, slightly off the ground. The form's head went bald, like all the hairs just decided to jump ship and disappear, my blonde hair grew, and I was placed right back to where I was, looking as I am today, and thrown into first-person perspective, looking though my glasses (astigmatism so the glasses make everything sharper around the edges). I was looking out over the edge of the small waterfall to my right, it went further down into the forest.
Roughly ten feet away, the stream split in two, the left path essentially going straight out in front of me, the second path branching to the right. The forest grew dark and misty as it went on to the left. In the upper-right of my vision there was a break in the trees from the water feature leading to the right with the Sun shining warmly down on everything, including myself. I was hovering over this split in the stream while in the third person, so I couldn't see it before... The Sun felt amazing, surrounding me in warmth and peacefulness.
I stood up to investigate the small sun-soaked pool formed at the split. Then I heard racoons picking at the cat food I left out for my neighbors cat and it snapped me out of it. 😡
I stomped my foot a bit and scared them off. I did see a little one with them so I feel bad, but cat food isn't what they should be eating. Plus I don't want that habit to grow and attract them more.
I brought the cat food in after turning the patio lights back on at 21:46:45, again according to the video. The stick of Nag Champa probably had an inch left. I sat back down and looked up. There was a long break in the clouds and it was just the moon looking down on me through the patio screen and the little stick. I couldn't help but smile.
Super powerful journey in 30 minutes.

Any and all advice is welcome.
I’m gonna copy and paste some exposition from my advice post on the situation because I gotta get back to work in a few but I really need to vent with some people who understand
I’m in the bathroom trying to calm down
Basically I caught myself this morning intensely daydreaming for an hour about this woman who lives in another country whom I haven’t met in person
It was us walking hand holding exploring all the historical sites of Napoli and I just I feel gross and stupid and the context will explain why
I don’t wanna go through this again but I can’t just cut my ties with her either it would be cruel
I haven’t had a limerence episode in nearly 2 years and I don’t wanna go down that path again.
I’m just trying to breath and ground myself and I’m trying to be kind you myself but I just feel like a dumbass
Here’s the context for the situation
My conscience is in bits trying to do the right thing. But making sure it’s for the right reasons
I don’t exactly know if this is the place to ask, but I really need advice or clarity and the situation touches on themes related to the sub. I’m not Karma farming I very much need advice on what to do
I’d say I have a strong moral compass.
I’m 21 and for most of my life I was kinda a teachers pet, goodie two shoes, Boy Scout etc.
And even now in all aspects of my life I normally am, I always hold doors, put my cart away, straighten shelf’s when I put something back.
Not that I don’t have a rebel or mean or lazy side but
I’m also rose tinted glasses and I’m told by everyone I’m too nice.
After a year of therapy and self reflection I’ve come to the realization that when I do genuine kind things I do them out of genuine kindness but a layer deeper it’s also cause I wanna be loved and liked.
When I feel I don’t meet up to my standards I feel really guilty or anxious even when things are out of my control
Like the one relationship I’ve had she broke up with me and it was fine no fights, but for months I was stirken with guilt cause her grandma who she lives with is a complete cunt
Like I don’t think I saw the worst of it but grandma was killing my exes self esteem the grandmother liked me better than her granddaughter it was night and day.
I felt guilty cause even though we broke up I knew that I brought her some light into her life. We had dreams of getting her out of that house and for us to have a loving home for eachother and some animals.
I’m over that guilt but I feel hints of it with what’s going on now .
So more exposition, as much as I have worked on myself physically and mentally the one thing I still struggle with is relationships
Both platonic and romantic
I’m single I got a couple of good friends I don’t see often but hoping to change that
But I’m super grateful for the people in my life, maybe to much, I over gift I over thank,
I get attached to folk who are nice to me real easy
And especially with woman and I’m not blaming them
I have a horrible tendency to succumb to limerence and putting them on a pedestal.
I think I might be a love junkie or something which is kinda weird since I’ve only ever dated once. I never even been on a traditional date.
The definite thing though is I’m very very lonely
But now to the current situation
I went onto forever alone dating. Messaged a few people a month ago.
One of these woman is 23 from Italy and we talked on an off then just periods of radio silence
She found someone in Italy while we talked
Which was fine, I was just glad to have the opportunity to speak with someone from Italy, it’s on my bucket list the visit I love the food, culture and history.
But the other day, I messaged just checking in looking for conversation
She said she wasn’t doing well and suggested to read her latest post
In summary, that guy she met they planned to both move to America, but he just abandoned her and now she’s homeless and shunned by her family. plus he was a physically abusive piece of shit I won’t even call him a man he’s a fucking animal she showed me scars and bruises
She’s still in Italy
I genuinely felt bad and was just there to help her vent and process this.
I offered to send her a lil money, to help her get a lil food and water.
And she proved she was real it wasn’t a scam, I sent 30 bucks
She’s very grateful
I do genuinely believe that true acts of kindness inspire others
But now that we are talking even more and we’ve both seen what we look like and sound like.
I can feel my stupid dumbass part of my brain leaking this very dumb thought of
“Maybe there is a chance”
I feel so scummy and I keep trying to fight it off
I know I shouldn’t do anything especially now she just escaped that monster and she’s out in the streets.
She just seems so vulnerable and lost and scared and I wanna help.
But now I’m so confused why I’m doing this should I be doing this.
Am I doing this out of genuine kindness
Or am I falling into nice guy, white knight , simp type shit.
I feel like I’m mostly doing the right thing for the right reason, which is she needs help and someone to talk to.
I really don’t expect anything out of her.
But I can feel my dumbass getting infatuated and I feel calling myself a dumbass is appropriate cause I do this to myself
I just I’m gonna keep helping her within my means nothing drastic.

Query:
Dear Agent,
I’m reaching out to query Shadow of the Pomegranate Tree, a 108,000-word standalone adult high fantasy novel with elements from the hardboiled detective and noir genres. Set in a secondary world and inspired by my Persian heritage, the novel explores mental health, class divide, and purpose. Once the most famous investigators in the sultanate, Nasrin and Banak retired out of shame when a killer by the moniker “Justice” forced Banak to slaughter his own family.
Ten years after failing to capture Justice, Nasrin hides from her past life, selling candles and embracing anonymity. She blames herself for the death of Banak’s wife and child, and finds solace only in rejecting who she once was. Unlike Nasrin, Banak relives his past every day. He believes himself to be a monster. Self-hatred is Banak’s only shield against his drug addiction, which he barely has under control.
When they learn that Justice might once more be terrorizing the sultanate, Nasrin and Banak retire their retirement. A vicious killer, using magic known only to Justice, butchered a squad of soldiers, and then, without explanation, surrendered himself to authorities. Nasrin and Banak suspect the killer might be a protégé of Justice. Respectively hoping for redemption and revenge, they once again take up the hunt for Justice.
Rather than finding him, the two find a trail of corpses. Though Justice’s victims seemingly have nothing in common, Nasrin and Banak, by recruiting the aid of a young patrol captain and an incarcerated serial killer, begin to piece together Justice’s plan. He returned from hiding with designs on the throne itself. Only Nasrin and Banak have any hope of stopping him, but neither their scars nor their relationship have healed, and they are not who they once were.
After walking away from my career as a lawyer, I struggled with guilt, incertitude of purpose, and several mental health diagnoses. Shadow of the Pomegranate Tree grew out of those challenges; it depicts PTSD, addiction, and imposter syndrome, all while championing tenderness and compassion. Like Naseem Jamnia’s The Bruising of Qilwa, the novel celebrates Persian culture. Like Robert Jackson Bennet’s The Tainted Cup, it weaves together fantasy, mystery, and stakes that are far larger than they initially appear.
300 Words:
They were just knocks. Three knocks, to be precise, their softness suggesting diffidence, their even timing indicating, perhaps, musical tutelage. Or military schooling. But they were just knocks.
Despite a decade of disuse, Nasrin’s training took hold. She envisioned a cowled figure before her shop, swathed in black robes and dawn’s saffron glow. In her mind’s eye, she flicked her wrist to hurl scorching tea at the figure. She’d follow by smashing her emptied glass against their face. When the glass shattered, she’d jab at the specter’s eyes, then weave crimson across the specter’s neck.
There was no specter, leastwise, not in her candle shop. There were only knocks, and instinct, and fear.
Did he stand at her door? The stranger surely wasn’t a customer. Not this early. The only shops presently open were those offering flatbread warm from hot pebble hearths. Very deliberately, Nasrin set down her tea glass and exhaled through clenched teeth. When her heart refused to calm, she breathed in the cold throw of a nearby candle. A whiff of crisp apple kissed her nose before, like water held in cupped hands, slipping away. Too long spent hiding behind candles had dulled her sense of smell.
No further knocks came for a time, and Nasrin, still seated atop silk sofreh with her back pressed against a colossal camphor candle, contemplated returning to her tea. Instead, she rose, taking care to move quietly, and retrieved her dagger and blowgun from under a rolled rug in her shop’s back room. Preparation, though likely unwarranted, was the only way to scratch the itch that plagued her.
The next set of knocks pounded as Nasrin confirmed that her blowgun’s modified chamber held a half dozen darts. The stranger kept his, or her, same tempo. Military schooling indeed.

Who is Paramahamsa Sri Swami Vishwananda? (part 2)
Birth and early childhood
Introduction to part 2
When we see a young child or animal playing joyfully, we sense the comforting presence of the nearby mother, even if she's out of our sight.
When we observe smoke from a distance, we can infer that a fire is active.
Every experience we've had or will have speaks of a deeper reality beyond what meets the eye. This is true for everything, whatever it might ever be. Even a seemingly simple plant that is growing in a certain place and ways, is speaking deeply about its whole neighbourhood.
Like Sherlock Holmes, who decoded hidden clues, we too can uncover open yet hidden truths in our surroundings. He trained that skill to such a degree that allowed him to piece together seemingly unrelated information to solve complex cases. This was not born from fantasy but from deep awareness and knowledge about nature's interconnected realities. With this in mind stay alert as our story is unfolding further.
Part 2. Post Birth - His first 12 hours on Earth and second message to all the world
It is still Tuesday night June 13th 1978 Rose Hill; local hospital, Mauritius Island. Mother and child are well after that illuminating birth event*, and thus ready to return back home. Home. Meaning, a somewhat common house within a typical Mauritian neighbourhood surrounded by some non-vegetated grounds that keeps them “easy to have”. Thus supporting the child’s father’s busy life as a grounds man by not adding any further duties to his occupied life.
On reaching home the house is saturated with the aura of love, serenity, gratitude, sparkling curiosity and joy that a new born is naturally gifting a family with. Time is standing still.
However, life is flowing its never resting courses wherein everyone finds ones duties according to ones inherited roles. But not only the grown-ups! Also the new born child is preparing for the revelation of its second message, utilising the sight covering dark of this most auspicious first night as a “Chatur Mukha"** family.
It is early morning June 14th 1978, hardly 12 hours after the child’s luminous birth and first message to all the world, when the rising of the sun is revealing to the early rising father an autonomously, rapidly growing Tulsi garden on the house’s once so comfortably barren grounds! Bushes of TULSI! OMG! Tulsi... of all things! How could this even be possible ever?!
One of the most delicate and challenging plants to be cultivated. Tulsi, who requires much of direct sunlight and care to grow, including a well regulated and balanced watering care. Plentifully growing in a single winter's lightless night(!) on once barren ground! But not enough. The foremost of Tulsi's requests for successful healthy growths is an atmosphere of loving care and devotion! Which must be one of the reasons why, since ancient times, Tulsi is considered as being a "Goddess" Herself.
Try to put yourself into the shoes of that innocently awakening father who must be struck by utter surprise and even serious confusion upon being confronted with this completely inconceivable reality ! What shall he do with that?! What on "God's Holy Earth" is going on here?! What does all that mean? Where does it even come from all of a sudden?! Of what relief would a Sherlok Holmes' mind have been in such a situation! Wouldn't you agree?
"Tulsi" or "Holy Basil" and the indicating significance of its presence
Unlike many places on Earth, on the island of Mauritius Hindus, Christians, Muslims and others are living in mutual acknowledgement together peacefully, which invites to weave in empress' Sainte Helene's interconnected story with our story line here. Sainte Helene had been endowed with the task of finding the Holy Cross of Christ +/- 320 years after the resurrection, which otherwise would have got lost in the course and dynamics of time. At the very site where the Holy Cross finally had been found, vital bushes of Holy Basil/Tulsi ("Ocimum tenuiflorum" or "Ocimum sanctum”) had been found growing above of it. Indicating the presence of a hidden yet vivid source of radiating, unconditional Love. Just as in 1978 on Mauritius island in the form of this new born child.
What a déjà-vu! Humbly introducing itself through Mother nature's preferred language of meaningful silence. Yet powerfully resonating within those hearts which are bearing the hidden flower of love and longing for the deepest of all love forms that the child is reminding us of once again. Despite nature seemingly neglecting all common conditions for Tulsi's growth that night, the child innocently reconnects us with the depth and eternal care of that all fulfilling, all satisfying divinity.
And thus Tulsi and the child are mutually bearing witness for one another’s purity, nature of divine character and the eternally trans-religious, trans-cultural and finally all transcending reality of pure love, which is the true and eternal home of all. That love that satisfies all needs on all levels, under all circumstances for all those who take refuge into it. Into Him, the eternal ONE. Into any of HIS innumerable forms. But remember, He is never forcing Himself on anyone in any way. He is "Just Love", patiently waiting for us to actively join with Him.
The profoundly enlightening impact of Paramahamsa Sri Vishwananda's teachings and presence continues to grow and heal the lives of ten thousands of grateful people who meet him. His tangible message of love, compassion, and unity has brought together people from most diverse backgrounds and faiths, transcending the boundaries of culture and tradition.
The child's birth and the miraculous growth of the Tulsi garden are living symbols of this unity, awakening us to how love and devotion in action can bridge even the widest of gaps. These events remind us that each of us shares an eternal, tangible, and deeply personal relationship with the Divine. The kindling and fostering of this connection, never-ending, is alive as "Bhakti Marga", the path of Love and Devotion, for all who are simply 'Lovers of God', from all walks of life.
Think for a moment. HE is here on this planet right now. Together with you! He might be just around your "next corner", right now!
Take yourself a minute or a few. Call Him internally in the intimacy of your heart. Call His Name. Paramahamsa Vishwananda…. Paramahamsa Sri Vishwananda… and see, feel what is going to happen. Come and see Him. Meet Him online… Think of Him. Ask Him for any help. Anytime. Ask Him to inspire you, now within your heart. HE is listening! HE is responding! … Take it as a certainty.
Share it freely if you want and be very happy….
Footnotes:
\In case you missed part one, click here...*
https://www.reddit.com/stories/comments/1bv1480/a_childs_impressive_message_right_at_the_moment/
\*Family of four*
…to be continued…. Stay connected for further insights into his miraculous and enlightening childhood...

just watched kurt sing “rose’s turn” in S1E18 Laryngitis and his heart to heart with burt right after and i was so moved. burt is such a stereotypical dad from the 2000s; simple and sweet. and him just parting wisdom on his gay son he wasn’t mentally prepared for as a straight single father and skipping lunch with finn to reconnect… so great he is so supportive. one of the best relationships in this show i swear. this episode is just so moving in general. they brought on sean, finn’s friend that was paralyzed from the chest down, talking to rachel about the things theyd lost (her voice, his body). this high school musical satire is so fun and out of pocket sometimes but it really does teach so many lessons on tolerance and empathy and compassion and respect i just love it. share your opinions below❤️

I think Togashi has done more than any other mangaka to look deeply into the horrible, festering morass of humanity's evils, yet to still retain his faith in humanity's capacity for good. His writing is a master class. Every theme from throughout the story - from compassion and communication triumphing over violence and coercion, to the wonders and horrors of unexpected consequences, to the way that nothing and no one is truly ever insignificant or meaningless - comes together seamlessly in the arc's story.
The way that someome as small as Ikalgo inadvertently saved the human race just by showing empathy to Welfin, another small player in this huge, bloody game, leading Welfin to be in the place he needed to be and say what he needed to say to save Meruem's soul. And the way that by sparing Bloster even though he berated himself for it, Ikalgo allowed Bloster to then reunite Reina with her mother. Or the way that, without ever intending to, the actions of the Chimera Ants toppled two corrupt regimes in both NGL and East Gorteau.
Had they succeeded, it would mean genocide and the end of life for the human race as we know it in the world of Hunter X Hunter. Yet because they were there, did what they did, and failed at the eleventh hour, there are millions of people no longer living under a dictatorship or a misguided nature cult-as-front for a drug cartel. NGL is now on its way to becoming a true nature preserve. All the chaotic cause and effect of life can lead the most well-intentioned actions to lead to something horrible, but it also means something horrible can lead to unprecedented good. So long as you're sensitive and flexible, you'll be able to learn how to mitigate the bad and cultivate the good, and I think that's what Hunter X Hunter encourages people to improve at more than anything. To care for and be interested in the people and things around you, even the seemingly insignificant parts, and to learn from them.
And I love how complex the characters all are. I could say so much about any of them, but Netero stands out to me. Most interpretations of him I've seen paint him in a negative, almost villainous light, but I think he's so much more complicated than that. I think a lot about that part early on in the arc when he wonders to himself whether or not they can complete the mission without sacrificing someone. Yet that train of thought seems to be what led him to get the Poor Man's Rose installed in his chest. He determined that no, he probably could not complete the mission without sacrificing someone, and the someone he chose was himself.
Shoot coming into his own, the incredible growth as a Hunter and as a person in general that Killua underwent, Gon's indescribable fall from grace and how he betrayed everything Kite taught him out of his grief over Kite dying. There are so many things in this one arc that would make a manga historic on their own, and all while Togashi seems to have been in the darkest phase of his career as a mangaka. It's a master piece.

Club Vlad sat near the confluence of Central Avenue and Washington Avenue, Albany’s two main thoroughfares. Two stories with blackout windows and a box office from when it used to be a movie theater, it was swarmed with people when Dom first spotted it ahead. He was somewhat familiar with it: He passed it every day on his way to work, and it was always busy around his time of evening, even on weeknights. Part of him always wanted to go inside and be a part of the scene, but he never did.
The man in sunglasses - his name was Joe - led Dom toward the club, and even before Joe spoke, Dom somehow knew that it was their destination. “There,” Joe said. “We’ll go around back.”
Dom and Joe had been walking for what seemed like an hour but couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes. Dom stuck as close to Joe as possible as if for protection, and had become accustomed to his pungent smell. It was noticeable only at extremely close range, part sickly sweet and part…something else, something Dom could not place but still somehow recognized. They were two blocks from the club, maybe three, and Dom could hear the pulsing techo/house/whatever music as clearly as if he were standing in the middle of the dancefloor. He could hear the chatter of the people inside, or at least he imagined he could. He could smell them too: Beneath the odors of perfume, desperation, and spiritual rot was something richer, something blissful. Dom realized for the first time that he was parched - so parched - and drool filled his mouth.
A crowd of people waited outside Club Vlad, talking and laughing; some vaped, some stared down at their cellphones like Gollum with his precious ring. Dom’s first reaction was to avoid them. Perhaps sensing this…or perhaps feeling it himself…Joe ducked into an alleyway two doors down from the club. “We’ll go in the back,” Joe explained.
The back entrance to Club Vlad was a single door underneath a bare bulb. The music was so loud that Dom’s head began to throb. Inside, a dark hallway terminated in an archway filled with throbbing white light. Dread filled Dom as they approached it - he didn’t want to be around people - but thankfully they went into a room off the hall instead. An office. A cramped desk, a filing cabinet. A set of stairs disappeared into shadows.
“Sit,” Joe said.
Dom obeyed, sitting in the swivel chair.
Joe went up the stairs and Dom was alone. The deep coldness that had long settled into his bones made itself known again, and Dom leaned forward, wrapping his arms around his chest for warmth. The muffled music vibrated in his skull, setting his teeth on edge, and the various smells wafting in from the main room assaulted his senses. He was alternately repulsed and aroused by the crashing din of scents: The good, the bad, and the mouth watering. A sharp pain cut through his stomach like the killing edge of a knife, and Dom hugged himself tighter. Had his throat always been this dry? His throat felt like sandpaper; his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth and getting it unstuck hurt so badly that tears sprang to his eyes.
Dom rubbed his arms with his hands and tried to still his chattering teeth. He looked around for a blanket, a discarded jacket, something to cover himself with, but there was nothing. Only drifts of glitter on the floor and walls. He supposed it came from a party or something. He’d never been to a night club but it seemed fitting.
A sound drew his attention to the door leading back into the hall. A woman - no older than a girl - stood there, looking confused and unsteady. She was dressed in black, wore glow sticks around her wrists and neck, and held a red solo cup. “I have to pee,” she said drunkenly and laughed. “I thought this was the bathroom.”
A cold wind washed over Dom, and Joe was standing next to him. “The bathroom’s up here,” he said.
“Oh, good,” the girl laughed, “I thought it was here but I didn’t know. This is my first time here.” She held her cup aloft. “Take me to it.”
Joe glanced at Dom. “Come on.”
They formed a party as they climbed the stairs, Dom in the tear and Joe at the head. The girl stumbled and held onto the railing, talking incessantly. Her voice hurt Dom’s head, but the hot smell wafting from her was intoxicating. Drool coursed down his chin and his breathing came in short, hot bursts. Another sharp pain rent his stomach, and he winced.
At the top of the stairs, where the lights were cold and white, a woman in black stood by a doorway, her back ramrod straight and her eyes vacant. Her face was gaunt, her white flesh pulled tight across her skull. She wore a black dress and her black hair long and straight. Dom only caught a glance at her before looking away again.
She looked like a ghost.
“Show her the bathroom,” Joe said.
The woman’s eyes slowly, ponderles, went from Joe to the drunk girl. Her expression, like Joe’s, was dead. She had no expression. “This way.”
She and the drunk girl disappeared down the hall, and Joe led Dom into a room. Though it was pitch black, Dom could still see; not very well…but he could see. Suddenly, a blinding white light flicked on in front of him, causing him to stop and fall back a step. Ahead, through an archway, sat a vaulted chamber, at the center of which sat a man. To Dom’s light dazzled eyes, he seemed a proud king perched upon a throne, the skulls of his many enemies piled around him. Dom blinked and turned his head slightly to the side. His eyes began to adjust, and the world came into focus.
The man was not, as it had first seemed, sitting on a throne. Instead, he was esconded in a motorized wheelchair. The piles of skulls were actually various pieces of machinery, the kind you’d find in a hospital room. A clear tube extended from one of them to the side of the man’s neck: Yellow liquid flowed from the machine and into the man. Another tube, this one in the other side of his neck, filtered out a mixture of what looked like yellow pus and black sludge. An infected malodor filled the air, and the machines whirred softly as they worked.
As for the man himself, his appearance was normal at first glance, Dressed in a flowing red velvet robe, a blue and green blanket with a plaid pattern draped over his shoulders, he was portly, about fifty, and had shoulder length grayish hair with a bald spot in the middle. If the local theater put on a production of Hamilton, they could cast a worse Ben Franklin than him.
On closer inspection, he was not normal at all. His complexion was yellow and waxy, like a statue, and his body was lumpy, misshapen, resembling an overfilled trash bag stuffed with cotton. His eyes were sick and yellow, and something about his posture seemed…off. It didn’t make sense, but the only thing Dom could think was: He looks impossible.
Joe stopped at the edge of the shadows, where the line between light and darkness lay. He seemed to stand up a little straighter, a general greeting his king. “Here he is,” Joe said.
The man squinted slightly against the glare of the light and motioned with one gnarled hand. “Step into the light,” he said. His voice was soft and kind, that of a senile though loving grandmother. Dom imagined he felt a pull toward the man, and did as he was bidden, wincing as the light stung his eyes.
For a moment, the man stared at him, his waxen features frozen fast as stone. Then, a subtle look of compassion flickered across his face. Dom did not believe in God, but he suddenly felt like a man standing before God, his every thought, feeling, and transgression laid bare. He had never felt so naked in his life, so exposed. He had the sense that the man before him could see everything, knew everything.
“You’ve been through a lot,” the man said. It was not a question, but a statement.
Everything Dom had been through over the past couple of days came back to him in a rush, and hot tears filled his eyes. He nodded.
The man nodded slightly, more to himself than to Dom. “Kneel down,” he said, “I want to look at you.”
Dom knelt without question.
The man lifted one hand and touched Dom’s face, tilting Dom’s head from one side to the other like a farmer appraising a horse. His fingers were long and bony, his nails ragged and unkempt; his touch was like ice. He brushed his knuckles over the purple bruise on Dom’s cheek, and there was such gentleness in that one act that Dom broke down sobbing. He leaned into the man’s touch like a cat and gave voice to his misery.
“Shhh,” the man said, “it’s all over now.”
“W-What’s happening to me?” Dom asked.
In his heart of hearts, however, he already knew.
“You died,” the man said patiently. “And you came back.”
Hearing it stated so plainly, Dom cried even harder.
“Only a handful of people throughout history can claim to have defeated death,” the man said, stroking Dom’s hair, “and you’re one of them. You should be proud.”
“How?” Dom asked between sobs. “What am I?”
The man stroked Dom’s cheek. “You’re the same thing I am.”
At that, Dom looked up at the man. “What are you?” he asked.
A little, knowing smile touched the man’s lips, and when he spoke, his canine teeth were longer and sharper than before. “I’m a vampire.”
“No,” Dom moaned and shook his head, “no, no, no.” He grabbed the man’s hand and held tight, his tears coming faster. He trembled like a frightened animal and squeezed his eyes closed, as if by doing so he could escape the hell his life had become.
But there was no escape.
“You have a lot of questions,” the man said, monologuing now rather than speaking directly to Dom, “I had the same questions when I was your age. I have spent the last forty-two years of my life trying to answer them, but every answer I find leads me to still more questions. There’s one thing I’m certain of, though.”
Dom blinked the tears from his eyes. The last of them had been squeezed from his dead tear ducts and he had no more to give. He simply stared into space, trying to come to grips with his situation.
“There is freedom in death,” the man said. “Death is easy. It’s simple. Once it’s over, you feel no pain, no sadness, no grief. It’s living that’s hard.”
As he spoke, he brushed his long nails across Dom’s scalp. It was a soothing feeling, and served to calm him. “People have so many troubles.” A note of revulsion crept into his voice. “So many needs, so many desires. People are complex but we’re not. We’re easy to please. A vampire wants only two things: A little blood and one more night.”
The combination of his touch and his voice had pacified Dom to the point of almost tranquility. “I’m scared,” Dom heard himself mumble.
Nodding almost reluctantly, the man said, “Fear is one of the only emotions a vampire can’t escape. Everything feels fear. Do you want to know a secret?”
Dom nodded.
“I’m afraid too,” the man confessed. “I’m afraid of death. Well…death as it were. I’m terrified that my body will rot away and leave me a pile of bones somewhere, unable to move but still aware”
A shudder went through Dom.
“As I’m sure you’ve seen yourself, the movies lied. We rot just like any other dead thing. Our flesh decays, our organs turn to sludge, and we go from rational men to monsters whose only thought is feeding.”
Now it was his turn to shiver.
“But…you’re not like that,: Dom said.’
The man smiled. “I’m lucky, I guess” A thin yellow fluid began to drip from his nostrils. He did not seem to notice. “What is your name?”
“Dominick,” Dom said.
“I’m Merrick,” the man said, “and this is my family.”
Dom realized that they were now surrounded by others, ten in all. They stood ramrod straight, their eyes vacant and their faces devoid of humanity. They were mainly men, though one was a woman. Some were pale, others were blue or black, and one was little more than a skeleton clad in withered brown skin, a white button up and jeans hanging from its frame.
A thought occurred to Dom. “You said my brain was going to rot…”
“Not necessarily,” Merrick cautioned, “though it’s possible.”
“Am I going to be…?”
“Like them?” Merrick asked. “Braindead and staring?”
Sheepishly, Dom nodded.
“Maybe,” Merrick allowed. “But these people are free of everything that troubles humanity. You were human just a short time ago. I’m sure you remember all too well what it was like. The constant politics, the moral quandaries, the philosophical pontificating. Human beings - and make no mistake, we are humans - were not meant for all of that. We’re animals. We were made to hunt, fuck, and sleep. Somewhere along the way, we got pretentious and started complicating things.” He looked at Dom, sizing him up, seeming to read him. “Things that animals take for granted, people work their entire lives to achieve. If an animal wants to fornicate, it fornicates. If a man wants to fornicate, he needs to be tall, handsome, rich, funny, progressive when it suits women but traditional when it doesn’t. If a man wants a home, he has to work thirty years for it. An animal has only to dig a hole in the ground.”
Every word struck a chord with Dom.
Because every word was true.
“Unfortunately, the living won’t allow us to live that freely, so we have to hide. These people here - my children - need a guiding hand, a protector, someone who can lead them. And I, an old man, need help.” Here he smiled playfully and patted his bulging stomach. “My body is mostly sawdust and cotton balls at this point, so I can’t do much. I share my wisdom and my knowledge with them, and they take care of me.”
“Why haven’t you…rotted?” Dom asked.
“Embalming fluid,” Merrick said. “Blood doesn’t sustain you. Embalming fluid does.” He smiled at Dom. “It can sustain you as well. If you’ll stay with us. We’re not the most attractive bunch, but we’re a family, and we really wish you’d join us.”
A family.
Dom’s parents had broken up and he lived with his mother. He had never had a family before, and had always wanted one, a real one, like in the movies. Even as a grown man, he sought the love, acceptance, and belonging that a family brings. He sought it in the wrong ways, but that - and not sex, not romantic love - is what he had really wanted all along.
This is what he had wanted all along.
“I want to,” Dom said.
Working quickly, Merrick slashed his wrist open with his thumbnail. An ugly mixture of stale blood, siphoned from someone else, and embalming fluid leaked out. “If you choose to drink, my blood will be in you. You will be my son and I will be your father. You will obey me as your father. You will do whatever is asked of you for this family, as this family will do for you. You will not reveal the secrets of this family to anyone outside of it. You will protect this family from all threats, both inside and out. Do you accept?”
He held his bleeding wrist out to Dom.
Dom did not question, nor did he hesitate. He grabbed the hand of his father, brought it to his mouth, and drank from the seeping wound. The fluid was cold, thick, and vile.
It tasted like belonging.
“Have you fed yet?”
“No,” Dom said.
“Before you do, I have a question for you. Who did this to you? Who made you?”
Dom thought. Everything was hazy. “Was it someone in this room?” Merrick asked.
Dom shook his head. “Her name is…” he wracked his brain. “Heather.”
Merrick nodded. “So there’s another out there.” He looked at Joe. “Did you turn her?”
“Yes,” Joe said.
Merrick looked annoyed. “I’ve told you not to go out and feed on your own. You have no self-control. You drink too much and create others, which creates headaches for the family. Tomorrow night, I want you and Dom to find her and bring her here.” “Okay,” Joe said.
Merrick looked over Dom’s shoulder. “Jess? Can you come here?”
The black haired woman from earlier came out of the shadows, the drunk girl with her, arms tied behind her back. The girl looked dazed. “Max,” Merrick said to the skeletal corpse-thing, “help her.”
Max, Jessie, and another vampire named Matt tied chains around the girl’s ankles and hoisted her aloft via a pulley system. Upside down, she swung back and forth. Merrick instructed the others to leave the room. “Max,” he said.
On his way out, the corpse-thing produced a knife and dragged it across the girl’s throat, slicing her skin; blood spurted out. Max leaned in to taste it, but Merrick shooed him away. When he and Dom were alone, Merrick told Dom, “Go to her.”
But Dom was already on his feet, his eyes transfixed by the crimson life flowing from her pumping throat. The hot, rich smell filled his nostrils and tantalized his senses. Saliva filled his mouth and his stomach panged with hunger. Some small, human part of his decaying brain screamed at him to stop, but he did not listen to it. He had been human for almost thirty years, and he had been miserable. Now, in this chamber of the undead, he gave himself over to his dark thirst. Like a man in a dream, he shuffled to her, inhaled the sweet scent of her blood, and shivered. He was so lost in lust that he hardly noticed the strange, cumbersome feeling of his descended fangs.
“Drink,” Merrick said.
Opening his mouth wide, Dom sank his teeth into the girl’s neck. Her blood filled his mouth and splashed down his throat. Warmth thawed the ice in his marrow and spread through him. His dead heart began to flutter, then to pound. His knees shook, his body trembled, and his mind rolled away on a tide of ecstasy.
As it was his first meal, he couldn’t drink much. Before long, his stomach was hard and distended and his body burned with fire. He collapsed to a heap on the floor and twitched as random nerve endings, stimulated by the blood, began to misfire. He felt full, warm, and drunk. He closed his eyes and let himself drift.
Dominick Mason had died.
And this…
This was heaven.
***
With all that was happening in the city of Albany, the last thing Bruce Kenner needed on Thursday morning was a visit from Bertha the bitch, but that’s exactly what he got. She flew into his office like she owned the place and instantly started in on him. Young man this and have you talked to Joe Rossi that. You’d think she was his boss. And if she were his boss, he’d quit and find another line of work. He heard McDonald’s was hiring.
Bruce almost snapped at her. He’d been up most of last night riding around Albany and looking for Dominick Mason. He and Vanessa expected him to drop dead somewhere close to the medical examiner’s office, but if he had, he’d done so in a super secret location.
“I’ve been busy,” Bruce said, “but I’m going to go by his place of work today.”
Tired and still confused over that bullshit from last night, he had no energy to argue with the old crone. He could spare a few minutes to talk to Joe Rossi, he figured. He assumed that Jessie was safe but he owed it to her to check. If he found the girl, he’d take her back to her grandmother (sorry, kid, really) and try to avoid arresting the guy. Unless he came off as a creep, then he’d bust his ass. See, people assumed that an older guy with a younger girlfriend was some master manipulator hell bent on evil deeds. Sometimes they were, but hell, his grandparents married when his grandpa was twenty-one and his grandma sixteen. They were married for fifty-five years and loved each other to the end. Maybe it was innocent, maybe not. It wasn’t his job to judge either way. Just gimme the girl so I can get her grandma off my back and no one gets hurt.
“It’s about time you started doing your job,” Bertha said, “I heard on the police scanner last night that you people lost a body. What kind of town is this? Your coroner is a drunk who makes up stories about bodies walking away. He probably sold it to black people.”
Bruce couldn’t help it; he snorted laughter.
“Now what would black people want with a dead body?”
“Probably to use it as a prop in one of their rap videos.”
Bruce didn’t know much about music videos, but he was pretty sure that the people who made them didn’t like the smell of corpse any more than the rest of us. “I’ll be sure to round up all the local rappers for questioning. Is there anything else I can help you with?”
Luckily for him, there was not, and Bertha left shortly thereafter. Alone and able to hear himself think, Bruce sat back in his chair and went over his mental checklist for the day. First order of business, go to Club Vlad. Second, find Dominick Mason. There were others, but that was the most important. He wanted the body found so someone could get to work explaining this whole weird thing. There had to be an explanation. The thought that there wasn’t, that a dead guy literally rose from the grave and disappeared into the night, deeply disturbed Bruce, and the more this whole thing remained ongoing, the more disturbed he would become.
Needing some fresh air, he decided to hit up Club Vlad.
Outside, the day was hot and sunny. Waves of heat shimmered from the pavement and not a single breath of air stirred in the whole world. Bruce slipped on a pair of sunglasses and drove over to Club Vlad. It occurred to him that the place might be closed during the day; it was the only place Joe Rossi was associated with. His address in the computer system was Glens Falls, far to the north. The messages he sent Jessie indicated that he lived onsite at Club Vlad.
The build, wedged between a corner store and a check cashing place, was as grimy and dumpy looking as it had always been. The front windows were blacked out and covered with posters and fliers for punk concerts, house bands, and far left political organizations: The Albany Social Justice Center, something called Bash the Fash 2025, and Bruce’s favorite. ACAB. He caught some kid spraying that on the side of the police station once, and under extreme police torture (ie, a good tongue lashing), the kid told him it meant All Cops Are Barnacleheads.
Bruce shot the kid on the spot and planted a gun on him.
How's that for barnaclehead?
Calm down, he didn’t really do that. He made him clean the graffiti off with a toothbrush. LOL he was out there for hours.
The sidewalk in front of the former theater was empty save for some little. The box office was abandoned. There was no open sigh, but then again, there was no closed sign either. He parked his cruiser at the curb, killed the engine, and got out, sweat instantly springing to his brow.
To his surprise, the door opened. Inside, a couple steps led down to a dance floor. A bar lined the wall to his right, and a couple more sets led up to a railed platform filled with tables. Above, a huge balcony looked down on him. A giant disco ball hung from the ceiling like a pair of glittery nuts and there were cages here and there. Presumably where girls danced go-go style. Oh yeah, nothing hotter than a woman behind bars. Why do you think Bruce became a cop in the first place?
Speaking of glittery nuts, there was glitter everywhere. On the floor, on the tables, on the bar. It twinkled like flecks of diamond and swirled around your feet when you walked. Bruce imagined big buckets of the stuff raining down on the dance floor at midnight and he shuddered. Imagine having glitter stuck in your hair. That shit would never come out.
Music played from the sound system, not as loud as it would be during operating hours. It sounded like ‘80s metal, not exactly what he expected from a place like this.
Some say life she's a lady
Kinda soft, kinda shady
I can tell you life is rich
She's no lady, she's a bitch
Being morning, the place was deserted except for a man behind the bar, busy at cleaning the countertop in anticipation for the night’s events. He was tall, Hispanic or Italian, and feminine, with a single earring and a tank top.
Bruce moseyed over to the bar and the barkeep looked up, missing a beat when he realized the fuzz was here. He sat down his rag and walked over. “Can I help you?” he asked in a whispy voice.
“Yeah,” Bruce said, “I’m looking for Joe Rossi. Is he here?”
“I don’t know,” the bartender said. He looked nervous. “I can check.”
Before Bruce could answer, he scurried off, leaving him alone.
They suck my body out
But friend there is no doubt
I'm gonna pay the devil his dues
Cause I'm sick of being abused
Bruce looked around, his fingers absently drumming on the countertop. Club Vlad was a clashing mix of grunge and glam that made his head hurt. He imagined what the place must be like at midnight, packed and noisy, and nodded to himself. Yeah, this was the spot, he guessed, the place all the cool kids went, if they went anywhere anymore. Hell, if he was thirty years younger, he might come here.
He had been waiting for almost twenty minutes when a voice spoke behind him. He turned with a start, and beheld the strangest man he had ever seen in his life. Short and plump - lumpy, even - he sat in a wheelchair, a red blanket draped over his shoulders and his hands resting on his knees. He was about fifty with sparse gray hair falling to his shoulders and a plastic-looking face. He looked like a wax statue of Ben Franklin come to life, and a deep sense of disquiet stirred in the pit of Bruce’s stomach.
Just can't fight the temptation
It's become my inspiration
Gonna get myself an axe
Break some heads, break some backs
It was only then that Bruce noticed the sickly sweet smell of death.
It seemed to come from the man in waves.
“I didn’t mean to frighten you,” the man said, “my name is Merrick Garvis and I own Club Vlad. Maybe I can be of assistance.”
Bruce grew up in the south where manners and saving face were paramount. His mother and his grandmother both taught him that it was impolite to stare. Maybe he'd been in New York so long that he’d forgotten himself, or maybe Merrick Garvis was just the strangest looking man in the world. Either way, Bruce couldn’t help gaping at his strange appearance. Recovering, he shook his head. “I’m sorry, I -”
Merrick smiled and waved one hand. Why was it so goddamn skeletal? “Don’t worry. I was injured in a fire a long time ago and this is the best they could do for me. To be honest, I’d stare too. What can I help you with, officer?”
“I’d like to talk to Joe Rossi,” Bruce said. “I understand he works for you.”
“He did,” Merrick said, “but I had to let him go. Did he do something wrong?”
Bruce sighed. “Well, yeah, he’s shacked up with a sixteen year old runaway.”
A look of concern crossed Merrick’s features, such as they were. “Oh, my, that is concerning. I haven’t seen him in several days. I assume he went home. He lives in Glens Falls.”
Bruce nodded, his mind working. If Rossi really was in Glens Falls, that meant the whole mess was someone else’s problem. He could send Bertha up there to bother some other poor barnacle head and be rid of her. Yet…he didn’t think Rossi was in Glens Falls. Bruce had a knack for knowing when people were lying, and he was certain that Merrick Garvis was doing just that. It couldn’t be a facial tick, as his features were largely unmoving, like clay. Maybe it was something in his cloudy eyes. Maybe it was the tone of his voice. Or maybe Bruce had the shining and knew things just for the hell of it. In any event, the certainty that Merrick Garvis was lying grew stronger with each passing second.
“Why’d you fire him?”
“He got drunk and hit one of the customers.”
“What did he do?” Bruce asked. “What was his position?”
“He was a bouncer.”
“Aren’t bouncers supposed to hit people?”
Merrick fumbled. “Well…not to punch them in the face for bumping into them.”
“How long did he work for you?”
“Six months.”
“Did you ever see him with an underage girl?”
“Of course not,” Merrick said, “you have to be twenty-one to get in. I make sure everyone’s ID is checked at the door.”
“What if she had a fake ID?”
“Then I guess she’d get in, but I’d assume she was of legal age.”
“You said he shoved someone, when did this happen?”
“Last week,” Merrick said.
“I thought you said he hit someone.”
Merrick again fumbled. “I did.” Now his face seemed to darken a little. A strange yellowish liquid, too thin to be snot, began to drip from his nostrils. Bruce barely suppressed a smear of disgust. “I understand you have a job to do but playing mind games with me isn’t going to solve anything. I can give you his address. Other than that, I can’t help you further.”
“Fair enough,” Bruce said. “But I’d like to see your ID please.”
Merrick glared at him. “I suppose you want my name, rank, and serial number as well.”
“Actually, yeah, I’d love that.”
Merrick drew a deep sigh. “Okay.”
In five minutes, Bruce had Merrick’s ID, social, and all other relevant information. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t have bothered, even though he was well within his rights to ask for this information from someone he was questioning. But something about Merrick Garvis was off, and not just his weird face or strangely bulbous body. Bruce was just smart enough to realize that something was going on here, but not quite smart enough to even begin to imagine what.
When he had everything he needed and saw no reason to stick around, Bruce bid Merrick farewell and left the club. Before he could do anything else, he got a call from dispatch: Officer needed assistance in Pine Hills. Bruce slipped behind the wheel and went forth to help, momentarily putting Merrick Garvis out of his mind.
But soon or later, he would get back to him.
Oh yes he would.

To live in the Undead Burg is a daily test of one’s wit and their will. The brutish and dull fall to the cunning, and the weak intellectual tears their own mind asunder. For those who escape the Asylum, it is sometimes enough to make one consider voyaging back to their cell.
After all, only a few are Chosen.
In the lower levels of the Undead Burg, a cloak of rat skin fluttered behind a walking corpse as they hurriedly turned the corner of a short length of stone stairs, slamming the shield of a hollow soldier against the ground just as the claws and fangs of the first hound rose to meet it. In truth he lacked the strength to properly defend himself with the thing, to raise it with only one arm and withstand a blow with the same, but it didn’t matter here. The lower corner of the shield lay braced against the bottommost of a length of stone steps. This, with his shoulder pressed against the shield’s top, made progress against him nearly impossible for a foe so light as this.
If idiocy was to lose one’s common sense, then it couldn’t account for the stupidity of an undead hound. The corpse raised a spear over the shield and swung it downward in a pathetic arc, the wood slapping against the metal with hardly a noise to report. Seeing the motion, the dog leapt sideways out of some horribly trained reflex, and in this manner crashed into large pile of eternally burning corpses. It yelped as the heat caught it, spasmed as it searched for purchase amidst the mass of charred bones and melted flesh, and promptly died. The commotion brought with it the sound of distant footsteps, and soon another beast had run headlong into the shield. This one took two similar “attacks” of the spear to repeat its fellow’s mistake, and the one after it four.
To think he had once been terrified of these things, and discovered his tactic in panic.
Beside the steps was a well, and (after a moment to ensure no further dogs were coming), it was this against which the corpse laid his heavy shield. The next test between him and his goal would require agility, something ill-afforded with such heavy hardware. For this, he turned his attention to the well’s crank, and set thereafter to turning it. From the depths was raised a target shield tied in place of a bucket, and upon it a collection of bones, a severed hand, a ring, and a candlestick. The corpse laid the miscellaneous treasures aside, untying the shield and equipping it to his left arm.
The first two thieves were marked by buckets… or rather, the buckets were set in place to tell the thieves which doors were to be hid behind. As travelers came and went, the buckets would roll down the hill as they were knocked aside or blown by the wind or carried around by the dogs, and thus the thieves’ stations would move. When it was determined one had rolled too far down the decline of the alleyway, an annoyed thief would inevitably carry it to a more desired station, pretend it had always been there, and hide themselves behind the newly marked door. It was possible some band of thieves set this tradition in place long ago and retained the habit after they’d eventually gone hollow, but proving this thought today would be nearly beyond impossible. The reasoning didn’t matter to the corpse, of course, but the effect he used to his advantage.
The tops of the doors he adorned with knives from the Lady of Moss- blades up, such that the forceful opening of the door would spin the knives just right to sink their poisonous bile into the victims below. What additional wastes and acids the corpse had applied need not be mentioned by name, only that they shared their patron creature with the leather cloak on his back. With his work done, he now walked the side of the alley as any clueless traveler would have, and awaited the springing of the trap.
As always, the third and lowermost thief signaled the attack by kicking open their door. The two now behind the corpse followed, and shortly thereafter issued their raspy exhales of pain amidst the clatter of falling steel. The corpse charged. The leader hurriedly reached for their throwing knives but was swiftly force-fed the edge of the corpse’s shield, thusly to be brought to the ground. Here was the corpse’s blade drawn, its cracked and jagged tip turned down towards its latest prey.
When skinning rats, it is important that one carries a sharp blade. This both to pierce the thick hide, and to avoid unnecessary damage to the intestines, stomach, and other usable bits lying beneath. Replacing the rat with a hollow, the corpse preferred the tip of a broken straight sword to the edge of his usual dagger. The motions made indeed bore some crude similarity to his work when harvesting leather, but the abandon of care became only more evident with each forceful cut and flailingly resisted gouge. In the end, what remained could hardly be discerned from a spot of muck on the road, a hollow-faced madman above it.
Further down, beyond a second set of stone steps, was another favorite spot of ambush for the thieves. The mutts at the end of the alley had long since devoured whatever scraps had been used to position them, and so readily charged forth at the beckoning call of the corpse. They found at his feet the now separated legs of the corpse’s most recent kill, adorned in many fresh gouges and oozing with a pungent liquid. The source of this meal mattered not to them, and so they eagerly set to work engorging themselves on the new flesh. So single-minded were they, intent on ridding themselves of the insatiable undead hunger that plagued them, that neither one slowed as a white foam began to pour from their mouths. Their stomachs first bulged, then split apart and spilt what little they had for content as the acid worked its way through. Their legs gave way from beneath them, first the hind, then the front, and yet still they desperately swallowed more of the decaying flesh and embedded stomach-skin pouches that rapidly digested them in return. When at last the pair had at last lost such strength as to no longer reach the meals inches away from their first gasping, then whining maws, the corpse delivered their mercy. A swift kick, and what little remained of their necks gave freedom to their lifeless skulls. The thieves, meanwhile, bore no challenge the corpse had not already faced. Knives over the first few doors, the greeting of jaw and shield, the pillaging of another victim. Nothing unusual, and nothing of note.
With the capra demon gone, some “chosen” adventurer having long since vanquished it from realm, little now stood between the corpse and… her… save only one thing. The corpse took the last flight of stairs three at a time, ricocheting off the wall on the outside of its only turn and bounding towards his target.
There she was, out in the open as always. The corpse sprinted down the stairs and, after passing a blind corner, set his left foot forward and crouched to halt his considerable momentum. The ambusher behind him was easily parried as he brought his shield up and behind him, cracking something in their forearm or perhaps their wrist. Not bothering to waste time, the corpse’s broken blade was brought upwards through the ambusher’s jaw until it snapped the bit bone between their eyes. This done, the corpse wrenched his weapon up and sideways with a hollow “pop” as the neck gave leave of its skull. The body collapsed to the side, its head twisting unnaturally upwards and backwards as it freed itself of the blade. The corpse, unbothered, bore no interest in holding either aloft. Now he turned, inspected the last of the thieves, and after a moment returned his blade to its holder.
“You are Patient.”
This first time he’d uttered the phrase, the last word was merely an attribute. ‘Twas a description of the one hollow that could be shot with any arrow, afflicted with any pain, and would yet remain loyally in her position. To be fair, it wasn’t for great gift a choice, as the position of “live bait” was reserved only for whichever of the thieves had been deemed least desirable by the rest. What caused this, and whatever penalties lay for abandoning of the post, were matters the corpse could only assume. The important part was that it was her, the thief who had become “Patient” by name. At their first encounter the corpse had considered dispatching her like the rest, but had hesitated in piercing her skin. He still bore the scar about his neck that she had given him for his idleness, and she still wore the rat skin “grieves” he’d forcefully tied to her for a marker. As time passed, the two gradually traded more scars and more black fur hide between them- the corpse receiving the former, Patient gaining the latter. He had stripped her and tied a pelt about her chest which lay now beneath her leather armor, he’d fashioned a double-thick leather stock to protect her neck, and though he tied gloves to her at a point she’d taken great effort in cutting them off. All this he had done across many visits, through much pain, and at expense of his best materials. Todays gift had by far been the hardest to craft- a thrice layered leather helm affixed on one side with a jawbone to replace what he’d broken so long ago.
His approach was slow, and well-rehearsed. At about ten paces, Patient’s patience finally broke as she ran for him. Today she chose to hesitate upon reaching him, though he'd learned this was by chance of random choice than any form of compassion. The corpse waited for the attack, not daring to kick another outcast as he had once been in life. She tried first her more viscous pattern, a pair of vigorous strikes that slid across the corpse’s target shield rather than bouncing away. She completed the maneuver and immediately prepared for a more powerful, slamming attack, granting the corpse the opportunity he had been seeking.
As she brought her blade down, the corpse deftly batted her strong hand away and gripped her shield with his open hand. Having no further need for his own shield, he cast it now away and spun the patient thief ‘round. She made as if to leap upward and over the corpse, but the maneuver was one he’d long since learned to counter. He stepped back, spinning himself so as to bring her sideways and around and down into a prone position with his right elbow along her back and his left hand pinning her knife arm down.
His next task, before gifts could be given, was to ensure he received no further scars in return. Placing his knee at her back to free one of his hands, he drew from beneath his cloak a coil of red twine fashioned from the same rats he’d skinned for his gift… some of the same, at least. With great effort, the twine was managed around the thief until she could no longer terribly well resist, and her hood was pulled back from her head.
Seeing the sunken red skin, the glowing eyes, the bare teeth, it reminded the corpse of life in the Pit of Outcasts. It was there he’d met the kindest of the living, the most desperate of the poor, and occasionally even a soul or two willing to speak or come close to him. ‘Twas a place for the diseased, the undead, and those criminals deemed too vile to disgrace the hangman’s noose with their neck. It was there he’d learned to knit and to sew, skills gifted to him from an undead woman not terribly discernable from the one before him now. The main difference, at least for now, was the slack jaw broken in uncountable pieces during their first encounter.
Casting the memories aside, the corpse set to his work. The leather about the thief’s neck stilled her head a little, but precisely cutting the skin beneath her jaw to remove the old bone was still a difficult task. The end result was unsightly, and it involved more than a few excessive cuts from the patient’s constant struggling, but it was enough to work with. Removing the old bone took a great deal of time thanks to the many fragments hidden in odd bits and pockets of flesh, but sliding the new one into place and wrapping it in the old muscle proved as easily said as done. The most tiring part was retying the cuts back closed, as the thief regained and continually demonstrated a greater ability to bite and snap as the corpse made more and more progress. The last of these gaps closed, the corpse finally wrapped the rest of the leather helmet about the thief’s skull and tied the loose end to the other side of her new jaw with more twine. It wasn’t his best work, but it was the best he’d done on something still kicking around.
Patient’s hood was returned to its proper position, and the corpse took hold of a length of twine connected to a slipknot in the middle of her back. Midway up the last stretch of stairs he’d come down, the twine was pulled and the knot it held gave way, restoring the thief her freedom. Knowing better than to stick around, the corpse fled to the top of the stairs, standing on the bridge overlooking her station just beyond where she would pursue. He watched as she freed herself of the last of the twine, as she looked to him, and as she eventually returned to her post. He said then the same thing he always said to her, though still he knew not if she recognized it.
“I am Aldin Paltry, the Leper of Hangknell. I will return again.”
He watched a moment more, but was paid not a glance in return. Back through the alley he went, bound for the dragon’s bridge.

I started running DOSI as a new DM and I did make some adjustments with the adventure hook and the difficulty (extra monsters...), but I still feel it needed more.
I combined Dragons Rest and Compass Rose into one session and am hoping to combine the Myconids and the Observatory into a second, final session. (4.5h)
This is where I'm challenged.
1) I made the mistake of watching Matthew Perkins' video about the adventure last night and now feel like nothing I have done was good enough and I can't fix it
2) I feel like going into the cave and the to the observatory would be too much for one (4.5h) session - stressful for the players. My thought was maybe they had to go through the cave to get to the observatory?
3) I like the cave and don't want to leave it out but the players are experienced for the most part and some of their characters are already at level 3-4 which makes me question how much fun they'd have with it
4) as a player, I hate strings of unrelated encounters so I don't want to just add monsters before they get there.
Any thoughts on how to combine the myconids and the observatory.and make it be fun? Maybe thr myconid cave is the cellar of the observatory or maybe the myconid queen doesn't wake up.but needs a magic item from the observatory...?