(note to teacher: you made a mistake by having one of the prompts be “what are you interested in”, get ready to experience the true power of an autistic hyperfixation. Warning for,, kinda vulgar lyrics? They’re important in the context of the song and it's actually really interesting. I swear I PROMISE I'm not insane.)
I will be analysing Will Wood’s song ‘Suburbia Overture / Greetings from Marybell Township! / (Vampire) Culture / Love Me, Normally’. which, for simplicity, most fans refer to as simply ‘Suburbia Overture’. This song is the first on his first solo album entitled ‘The Normal Album’, which came out in July 2020.
This song, in the most general possible terms, is a criticism of modern suburban life, how it is advertised as “the perfect life”, and how this advertising is incredibly false unless you fit the picture perfect standard that these facets of society seem to require.
The song itself is split up into 3 distinct sections, “Suburbia Overture”, “(Vampire) Culture” and “Love Me, Normally”. I'll be tackling each section one at a time in order to properly break down what each means, what different analogies they use, how they all relate to each other and the intended end result of the song and the message it intends to convey.
Let's begin with ‘Suburbia Overture’. This section of the song uses a lot of analogies that compare suburban life to a warzone, the first line of this section being “white picket fences, barbed wire and trenches”. This section also focuses heavily on the concept of the nuclear family, and it often literalises the term and uses analogies based around radiation and nuclear warfare. Such analogies can be found in lines such as “the snap crackle pop of the Geiger, camouflage billboards for lead lined Brookes Brothers”. Now there's a couple of terms that require definitions in this line. The first of course being “the Geiger”. A Geiger counter, which is what this lyric is referring to, is a tool used to measure levels of harmful radiation. This, paired with the concept of billboards advertising “lead-lined Brookes Brothers” when lead is a material used to deflect radiation, and the knowledge that ‘Brookes Brothers’ is an American vintage style clothing brand, this line really paints a picture of a seemingly post apocalyptic/post nuclear war but still consumerist and capitalistic suburban society. The last line in that verse is “buy now or die”, which ties back to the concept of safety equipment being advertised on billboards, while residents of this town have no choice but to buy the products. This all relates back to the hyperconsumerism that plagues our society, and runs particularly rampant in middle to upper middle class neighbourhoods. The very same neighbourhoods that are often referred to as “suburban”
In the second verse of this section there are a lot of hard hitting lyrics that to me really show that this perfect idealised life is far from perfect or even good, so we will work through them one by one because I feel that they all deserve proper analysis.
The first line that i want to point out from that verse is the line “takes a village to fake a whole culture” which is clearly a rip off of the phrase “it takes a village [to raise a child]” but it also references the fact that usually suburban towns are incredibly monotonous in both residents and architecture, and so it takes the collective effort of the entire population of the town to pretend that there is an actual culture to it.
The next few lines I'll speak on all come in quick succession of one another, essentially blending them into one line. “Your ear to the playground, your eye on the ball, your head in the gutter, your brains on the wall.” So let's break these down. This line is easily split into 4 distinct phrases, and all of these phrases have a few things in common, which I will point out later.
“Your ear to the playground” is a play on the phrase “ear to the ground” which essentially means that the person with their ‘ear to the ground’ is attempting to carefully gather intel about something. Someone having their ear to the playground simply reinforces the idea of this suburban “paradise” being. Not as paradise-y as one would hope, seeing as the people who use playgrounds most of all are children, so this line is demonstrating that the picture perfect life that this suburban town offers is actually corrupting children so young that they are still on the playground. The next phrase is “your eye on the ball” isn't a play on anything and is in fact in itself a common phrase. To have your eye on the ball means to be entirely focused in and paying attention to something, and not allowing anything to divert your attention. Given the last line this line very well could be another reference to the corruption of the youth and the idea that their every day play has already been tainted with the hostilities of modern life usually reserved for adults. Following this is another well known saying “your head in the gutter” which, as most know, someone whos head is ‘in the gutter’ is someone who will see some sort of innuendo or otherwise vulgainappropriate meaning in something that was intended to be entirely innocent, leading to others in the interaction telling the perpetrator to ‘get [their] mind out of the gutter’ And finally, in my opinion the most hard hitting phrase in this set, “your brains on the wall” which is clearly in reference to the notion of ending your own life with a shot to the head, which would lead to, well, brains being on the wall. These last 2 phrases come in stark contrast to the seemingly picture perfect life that suburban towns offer and advertise, the concepts of suicide and perversion are not concepts one expects to see or hear when imagining this idealised form of life.
There is one main similarity in each of the 4 phrases, that being that each phrase has some body part being on something else, your ear to the playground, your eye on the ball, your head in the gutter, your brains on the wall. This similarity almost offers a body horror aspect to the song, which when paired with the concept that this is written about a seemingly post nuclear apocalyptic town presents an interesting idea of possible mutation, but i'll be the first to admit that may be a little far fetched. However that's not the only similarity that these 4 phrases share, another is the fact that they are all directly, or only slightly modified versions of already well known phrases, a similarity that is found in many lines over this entire song, through all 3 sections.
I want to analyse a few more lines before we move on to the second section of the song.
This next line comes directly after the previously analysed line, and it goes “home is where the heart is, you ain't homeless, but you’re heartless” Sticking with the theme of using already existing and commonly used phrases, “home is where the heart is'' is once again a phrase that you could likely find as a cross stitch hung up on the wall of any of the homogenous houses you could likely find in this idealised suburbia. But what Wood is saying in this line is that home is where the heart is, and that while people in this town may not be homeless, they are certainly heartless, meaning that they in fact don't have homes. They have houses. Rows upon rows of houses that all look the exact same in the horrifying monotony that is suburban living.
Following this line is the lyric “it's the safest on the market, but you still gotta watch where you park it”. These lines seem to be in reference to buying a car. The car being the "safest on the market" is likely in reference to the fact that it may have a lot of safety features. But this is immediately negated by the fact that you “still gotta watch where you park it” meaning that the safety features could be a reason that the car gets stolen, rendering all the safety that those features offered useless because in the end it made the car and the owner less safe.
In the third verse of this section, you immediately hear the line “so give me your half-life crisis” which partially is a play on the term ‘mid life crisis’ wherein which one realises that they may have wasted their life up till that point and they're already halfway through, but the use of the term “half-life” instead of ‘mid-life’ is very intentional, as the term “half-life” can also be used to refer to the half-life of an isotope, which is the amount of time that isotope takes to lose half of its radiation, which ties back into the theme of radiation that we see mentioned a lot in this section.
Later in the same verse is the line “if it's true that a snowflake only matters in a blizzard”, which is interesting in a few ways, first, it brings up the idea of a singular individual means nothing on their own and that they only matter when they’re part of something larger or a larger group, but i also think that the use of the terms “snowflake” and “blizzard” instead of something like ‘raindrop’ and ‘storm’ is very intentional in the fact that snowflakes are known for being individual, none are alike, every single one is different. So saying that a snowflake doesn't matter unless it's in a blizzard is yet another hit at individuality, essentially implying that in this town individuality means nothing and is essentially rendered useless.
The final line in this verse is “everybody's all up in my-” repeated thrice, and on the third time the sentence is finished to say “everybody’s all up in my business” and before the word “business” can be finished its overlapped with the beginning of the chorus, the first word of which is a very loud “SUBURBIAAAA!”. I believe this is reminiscent of the fact that in towns like this, everyone cares so much about what everyone else is doing, they’re all so interested in everyone else's business, and i think that sentiment being stated and cut off by the word “Suburbia” is essentially saying that ‘this is the norm, this is just Suburbia, this is how it works around here.’
After the final chorus of this section, in the final verse, you'll find the line “chameleon peacocks are talk of the town” which particularly interests me because if you know anything about chameleons or peacocks you’d find that they seem incredibly different as animals. Chameleons blend into their environment in order to stay safe, whereas peacocks are known for parading around bright colours to make themselves look better, but if you think about it the term “chameleon peacock” actually makes a lot of sense, a person who blends into their surroundings in order to make themselves look good. This sentiment seems to perfectly describe the homogeneity of the people that live in these perfect towns, they're all the same, they blend in with one another in order to make themselves look good, or perfect.
Another line heard shortly afterwards is the phrase “he cums radiation”, rather vulgar, I grant you, but it's important because it is yet another literalisation of the phrase ‘nuclear family’. It could also be a reference to the general toxicity of this societal norm.
The final line in this section of the song is “the dog bites the postman, as basement eyes dream of a night at the drive-in, with an AR-15”. Which is another use of juxtaposition, intended to cause a kind of whiplash in the listener and reinforce the idea that while in this place there is scenarios that would happen in a hollywood movie esque picture perfect neighbourhood, like the dog biting the postman, there's also horrors that lurk below the surface. (although clearly not TOO far below.
Now let’s move on to the second part, ‘(Vampire) Culture’.
If you listen to the song, you’ll immediately be able to recognise where ‘Suburbia Overture’ ends and ‘(Vampire) Culture’ begins, due to the insane juxtaposition between the two. Where ‘Suburbia Overture’ is soft and sort of reminiscent of the 1950’s, ‘(Vampire) Culture’ is loud, jarring and grotesque, complemented with much raspier and strained sounding vocals compared to ‘Suburbia Overture’’s soft and melodic ones. The tone for this section of the song is immediately set with much more graphic lyrics, the very first line of this section (after the opening scream) is “i dropped my eyeballs in the bonfire, we fucked on a bed of nails” which absolutely sets the scene for how different this section will be to the previous.
This song immediately jumps into using cannibalism as a metaphor, with the first line after the jump start opener being “I caught kuru from your sister, and I'm laughing in jail”. While this line is written to sound like the concept of catching an STD from an act of adultery, Kuru is actually a disease only found in human brain tissue, meaning that you can only contract this disease by eating a human brain.
This use of cannibalism as a metaphor is used again immediately after in the line “smell those screaming teenage sweetbreads on that 4th of July grill”, ‘sweetbread’ is the term used to refer to the pancreas and thymus gland of an animal, usually a lamb, but in this particular case it is in reference to the human teenagers that supposedly lived in The Marybell Township, or a least they did before they were dissected, cooked and served at a neighbourhood 4th of July barbeque hosted by the same people that were once referred to as their neighbours.
This line adds an interesting level of patriotism to the song and criticism of how America utilises patriotism and their love for their country as means to justify harming the youth, however a 4th of July neighbourhood barbeque is also commonly associated with white picket fence gated community America, which ties us back to the base criticism of that style of life and how it is seen as the “proper” and “perfect” way to live. These cannibalistic sentiments are followed up with the line “smile and wave boys, kiss the cook, live laugh and love, please pass the pills.” which brings us back to the repeated use of commonly known sayings being taken directly or modified only slightly to remind the listener of the setting were in, that being a seemingly 1950’s era tight knit neighbourhood.
Phrases like “live laugh [and] love” or “kiss the cook” are both phrases that could easily be seen in a setting like this, especially “kiss the cook”, as this is a phrase commonly associated with aprons worn by grillmasters at neighbourhood barbeques, not unlike the cannibalistic 4th of July barbeque that this particular neighbourhood seems to be hosting. These phrases being immediately followed up with a sentiment such as “please pass the pills” serves to entirely undermine the pleasantries that, until a moment ago, seemed to be plastered all over the faces of the people living in this fictional town that Wood has created. I think that final phrase brings the listener back to the realisation that not all is right here, quite the opposite in fact, and drags them from their momentary paradise. Circling back very quickly to the phrase “smile and wave”. I felt the need to point out that this phrase has been used for centuries as a way to say “stop talking and act normal” which once again reinforces that these people are pretending to be something they’re not in order to fit in.
We enter the next verse with the repeated phrase “it's only culture”, after that line is repeated three times we hear “sulfur, smoke and soot”, which could either be a reference to how dirty and disgusting the ‘culture’ is, or it could be a different way of saying that this culture and the people participating are going to hell, as per the common phrase ‘fire and brimstone’ and the fact that sulfur is another way of saying brimstone, and smoke and soot are both byproducts of fire.
The last line of this verse and the first line of the chorus blend into each other, so I’ll speak on them both.
First, the last line of the verse. It goes “you cocked and sucked your lack of empathy, pulled the trigger with your foot to prove you've got-” Putting aside the clear innuendo, this line refers to the idea of ending one's own life with a long shotgun. According to the media, by the time the gun is cocked and the barrel is in your mouth, you're not able to pull the trigger with your hands due to the length of the barrel. This line instead presents the solution of pulling the trigger with your foot to end your life.
So this person “cocked and sucked” the gun (cocked the gun and put the barrel in their mouth) before pulling the trigger with their foot to prove they’ve got-
And here's where the verse blends into the chorus.
Because the first line only consists of one word.
“Blood”.
The person who was shooting themselves with a shotgun only to prove that they bleed. Which is where the title of this section comes in. “(Vampire) Culture”. This section seeks to portray either the people in this culture or, the more likely option, the culture itself, as metaphorical vampires, who aim to destroy those around them. This knowledge makes the next line “didn't they want your blood, so why apologise for being blue and cold” make a lot more sense. After all, if these culture vampires have drained you of your blood, is it not their fault that you’re now “blue and cold”, as bodies tend to be if they lack blood flow. However if you look at synonyms for the words “blue” and “cold”, you could also interpret this phrase as meaning “sad and apathetic”. A sad and apathetic person doesn't seem to be the kind of person this ‘culture’ seeks to enlist however, and so one who is “blue and cold” is shunned as an outsider. What Wood is getting at is that if this culture is the one who made you sad and apathetic, then you should not apologise to it for being so.
The next verse is short, and like the previous one, also blends into the chorus in the same way, by having the last line of the verse cut off right where the chorus would finish the sentence with the word “blood”. However in this verse, there's an interesting line. “It's only culture and it's more afraid of you than you are of it”, which is a sentiment usually used by adults to attempt to subdue a child's fear of something, usually insects. However it's interesting in the fact that it brings up the idea that this culture that has caused so much damage and harm is actually incredibly fragile, and would, in theory be very afraid of the concept of the individual, because if this ‘culture’ is only being held together by the silent agreeance that everyone will simply pretend, then the idea that there is people who refuse throws the whole idea into jeopardy.
This line is followed up however, by the line that blends it into the chorus. “Go on drink that-”, clearly intended to be finished by the first line of the chorus, making the full line, “go on drink that blood”. This line is in reference to the phrase “drink the kool-aid” which essentially means to pledge your undying loyalty to something, a concept, a person, a god, etc. and it derives from an infamous mass cult suicide where over 900 people drank poisoned Kool-Aid and subsequently died for the cult. It is not a far cry to believe that this event and this phrase is what the line is referring to, as it's something that Wood has referenced in other songs, so it only makes sense to believe that this is what he means here.
After that chorus we move on to the bridge, which begins by listing 3 pairs of names, all famous or semi famous, and each pair being similar in one right but opposite in another, the line goes as follows; “were you Nabokov to a Sallinger, were you Jung to Freud or Dass to a Leary”, so let's break down these pairs one by one.
First “Nabokov to a Sallinger”, these names belong to Vladimir Nabokov and J.D. Sallinger, both authors who wrote famous books that both surround the theme of innocence, but in very different ways. Nabokov’s book “Lolita” is a story told from the perspective of a grown man about his sexual obsession and attraction to a little girl, and his desire to ruin her innocence, exploring the theme of innocence in a grotesque and frankly horrifying way, which is in stark contrast to Sallinger’s book “The Catcher in the Rye”, which explores the topic of innocence through the main characters desire to preserve their little sisters innocence, and in that desire displays hesitancy at the idea of sex themself. Both books explore the topic of innocence, however while one seeks to preserve it, the other seeks to destroy it, two sides of the same coin.
The next pairing is “Jung to Freud”, meaning Carl Gustav Jung and his mentor Sigmund Freud, who once again are similar in one right, but opposite in another. Jung and Freud both had theories on the nature of the human mind, but where Jungs was all about the concept of spirituality and how that ties into the collective unconscious, Freud's approach was much more focused on the individual unconscious and the concept of sexuality.
The final pairing is “Dass to a Leary”. both psychologists, both at the forefront of the ‘Harvard Psilocybin Project’ (before they both got dismissed from harvard entirely following controversies around the project) Richard Alpert and Timothy Leary were both psychologists and eventually authors who studied the effects of psychedelic drugs on the human mind, and while they were co workers they ended up with pretty conflicting views. Dr. Richard Alpert, who apparently ‘died’ and was ‘reborn’ as spiritual guide Ram Dass, centred his teachings heavily around the concept of living in the moment, (in fact his best selling book, written in 1971 was titled ‘Be Here Now’) and he believed that psychedelic drugs were not needed and that a permanent version of the same effects could be achieved through meditation. Whereas Dr. Timothy Leary advocated heavily for the use of psychedelics, believing that LSD specifically had great potential for therapeutic psychiatric use.
All of these pairings and examples utilise the concept of duality and speak on how every coin has two sides, which can easily be tied back to the idea that the picture perfect suburban life is just one side of the coin. This idea is then reinforced by the next line, “were you mother, daughter, subject and author?”, The use of the word ‘and’ here shows that it's possible to be two sides of the same coin at once, just like how this town, which is perfect on one side of the coin, is still terrible on the other side of the coin. The line is stating that it's possible to be both at once.
The very last line in this section is; “you don't make the rules, you just write them down and do it by the book you throw around”. This line combines a few relatively well known phrases. The first being of course ‘i don’t make the rules’, which can have two distinct meanings. The first is to express a kind of sympathy for someone being punished, and the second is to absolve yourself of the blame for that person being punished, a sort of ‘don't shoot the messenger’ situation.
The ‘rules’ that are likely being referred to here are the societal norms and expectations forced upon people who reside in these towns, the standard for ‘perfection’.
However, following this sentiment up with the phrase “you just write them down” is essentially saying that while it's not the fault of the people in these towns, they didn't create the norms, they still enforce them. They expect everything to be in line and perfect at all times, they follow these ‘rules’ to a T, and they shun and punish anyone who doesn't fit the standard and/or refuses to follow these ‘rules’, which is where the line “do it by the book you throw around” comes in, doing something ‘by the book’ means to follow rules strictly and to the letter, nothing out of line, and to throw the book at someone means to punish them as severely as possible, usually used in the legal sense to mean punishing someone for their crime as severely as the law will allow. So in all, the lyric “you don't make the rules, you just write them down and do it by the book you throw around” ends up meaning ‘you didn't create these norms but you still enforce them by following them to an absolute T and punishing anyone who doesn't.’
With that we enter the third and final section of the song, entitled ‘Love Me, Normally’, a title it shares with another song on the album, but of course this song is partially meant to serve as an overture for the whole album, meaning it shares some similar lyrics with lyrics from other songs on the album, so sharing a title isn't all that surprising.
The first lyric in this section is “do you know the difference between blazing trails and slash and burn?” which is another instance of duality in this song. Trailblazing or being a trailblazer means doing something no one has done before, paving the way for other people to follow in your footsteps, it comes from the literal act of creating a trail in the woods for people to follow, usually by creating notches in trees or setting small fires, hence ‘blazer’, as blaze is another word for a fire. However “slash and burn” is a method of deforestation that involves cutting down and burning a section of forest to create a field. Both examples include using fire to change something, but where one is seen as progress and positive, the other is negative, and seen as a means of destruction. Once again, two sides of the same coin, innovation and destruction.
This is followed up with the line “going against the grain and catching splinters”, which is a line i particularly like because while it is something that literally can happen, if you run your hand along wood in the opposite direction to the grain, you're more likely to get a splinter because you're essentially pushing your hand against the chips of wood, but it also is another metaphor for the dangers of not being the same. Going against the grain in this instance means daring to be different, not going the same way everyone else is going but instead the opposite of that, and in this example splinters are the consequences one would face for being different, especially in a setting like this perfect town, where everyone is the exact same as everyone else.
A little bit later you hear the line “well Lot he had his lot in life, Job his job and i guess you’ll too, and die”. Lot and Job are both figures found in the Bible, whose names both share spelling with common English words, but are pronounced slightly differently.
Job, from the Book of Job, was a man that was tested by God, made to suffer to test his loyalty, his ‘job’ was to believe unendingly in God and see Him as always correct no matter what.
Lot, from the Book of Genesis, was a man who went through a lot, and the phrase ‘my lot in life’ is a phrase commonly used by people to write off/explain why they don't have it as good as others, they say it's simply their ‘lot in life’.
The end of this line “i guess you’ll too, and die” i believe refers to the fact that everyone will have their own job and their own lot in life, and then everyone in the end will die.
This theory is solidified by the fact that the next line is “The Lord looked down and said ‘hey, you're only mortal’” which is a play off of the phrase ‘you're only human’. Wood himself said that the phrase ‘you're only human’ has always felt weird to him, he says, “cause like, of course I am, aren’t we all? How is that fact supposed to help? I still feel bad. What does being human mean to you?”. He follows this up by saying that the idea of God saying "hey, you're only mortal" offers the same kind of sentiment, but in a “cosmically condescending” sort of way.
The following line reads “giveth and taketh away, till things come out a certain way, leave you wondering when they might go back to normal… leave you wondering why they can't have just been normal”.
This line presents a sort of hopelessness in the realisation that things are constantly changing, nothing is any more ‘normal’ than anything else, there's no such thing as ‘normal’, which is an overarching theme found throughout the album. Once again bringing back the fact that for all intents and purposes this song is an overture for the rest of the album.
To conclude, ‘Suburbia Overture’ is, in my opinion, one of the greatest criticisms of suburban, middle class, gated community, nuclear family life i've ever seen, it highlights the problems in that life and showcases how this kind of lifestyle in its incredibly rigid and restrictive standards is incredibly harmful to the very concept of individuality, because the expectations and unspoken rules set in communities like this and the widespread idea of forced normality seeks to crush any individuality before it even has a chance to blossom.
The use of metaphors and phrases that are well known and are likely to be seen in settings such as this gated community suburban town that Wood has created really paint a subconscious picture of what this community looks like, the use of duality, how every story has another side, and how nothing that is seemingly perfect from the outside is actually perfect on the inside.
Will Wood is an incredible lyricist and the fact that he was able to cram so much symbolism and such a powerful message into a song just over 6 minutes long is genuinely incredible.
Thank you for listening to my/reading my autistic hyper fixated rambling, i hope i didn't melt your brain too badly.

A nurse at a New York hospital won an award for compassion from her employers — and then got fired for using her acceptance speech to accuse Israel of committing “genocide” in Gaza.
Palestinian American labor and delivery nurse Hesen Jabr, 34,delivered the fiery remarks as she was being honored earlier this month by NYU Langone Health for her efforts in caring for mothers grieving lost babies.
“It pains me to see the women from my country going through unimaginable losses themselves during the current genocide in Gaza,” she said during her May 7 acceptance speech, according to a video she posted on social media.
“This award is deeply personal to me for those reasons,” Jabr said in her brief remarks, during which she twice used the word “genocide” to describe the Israeli war.
Jabr says she was “dragged” into a meeting with NYU Langone’s president and vice president of nursing on her first day back to work after the ceremony, on May 22.
She said in an online posting that the meeting was called to “discuss how I ‘put others at risk’ and ‘ruined the ceremony’ and ‘offended people’ because a small part of my speech was a tribute towards the grieving mothers in our country.”
Near the end of her shift, however, Jabr was again “dragged” into an office where the hospital’s director of resources, Austin Bender, read her termination letter before she was escorted off the premises by a plainclothes cop, her post said.
In a follow-up post, Jabr took aim at the medical center, lobbing a number of accusations.
In one, she claimed a labor and delivery doctor at the hospital once “pulled [her] aside” in a delivery room as a patient who had just given birth was being stitched up to scold her, allegedly telling her that her people “were the cause of the current bombardment that was happening to them at the time.”
The Post reached out to Jabr by phone and left a voicemail but did not immediately hear back.
NYU Langone spokesman Steve Ritea said in a statement that Jabr was “warned” in December following a “previous incident” and had been admonished “not to bring her views on this divisive and charged issue into the workplace.”
He did not elaborate on the details of the alleged “previous incident,” but because of her failure to heed that warning at the award ceremony, Ritea said, “Jabr is no longer an NYU Langone employee.”
NYU would also not comment on Jabr’s accusations of mistreatment by hospital staff.
NYC nurse fired after calling Gaza war 'genocide' during award acceptance speech (nypost.com)
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Title is that way so this gets seen easier, it seems the more out of pocket the title is, the higher chances of the post getting seen and I am in desperate need of advice.
TW, ❄️ and 🍺 addictions (mainly 🍺)
So my boyfriend (30) and I (f28) have been dating for a year as of last month. We met on Hinge, and clicked pretty quickly. When we first started dating he was attending AA meetings weekly and had a sponsor. I was fine with this so long as he kept up his attendance and kept working on his sobriety. I knew relapses were pretty inevitable, as I have been clean from ❄️ for about 6 years now and had relapsed 4 times prior to my 6 year streak.
And he was doing great for a while, until about 4 months into our relationship and his dog passed away. His dog was his best friend, and it was abrupt and unexpected. So when I started finding booze in his house and noticed him smelling like beer, I was understanding. Not happy about the relapse, but I know how hard sobriety can be when you lose someone you love so much. Instead of bashing him for relapsing, I would take him to his AA meetings, I helped set him up with a personal therapist, and got acquainted with his sponsor so we could discuss our next steps.
But then he started disappearing at night with his car. I knew he was driving under the influence. I threatened to call the cops and give them his license plate numbers. I threatened to leave him. I begged him to stop driving while drunk because he could kill someone else or himself. He knows I lost my best friend because a drunk driver hit her. He keeps telling me he isnt drunk when he leaves, saying he is driving to bars, getting drunk and them he comes home. I know its bullshit. Ive seen the vodka bottles open in his car.
And unfortunately I can’t babysit him 24/7, I work 14 hour nights and can’t be here to watch him. And I have my own apartment and pets that I take care of. So last night I snapped. I went to see him after work (around 6 in the morning) and he was passed out drunk in his fucking car. The car was still running. There was a shit ton of open and empty alcohol bottles and cans in the passenger seat. I saw red at this point, and popped all 4 tired of his car. This way his insurance would cover it, and I knew he likely wouldn’t try to leave again if he woke up before the police show up. Police in my area tend to take up to an hour or two for non-emergencies, and being that we live in a high crime rate city, I was sure this would not be deemed as a priority. I left a note, and then called the police to let them know he was drunk in the drivers seat with his car running.
After this I left and went home. He called me from jail about 4 hours later but I didnt answer, so I assumed he called his mom because she has been blowing my phone up, saying I ruined her son’s life and Im the reason he is drinking. She said he is being put onto a psychiatric hold at a mental care hospital because he was bashing his head against the walls at the county jail, enough so that he needed stitches. I don’t know how much of this is true, but I am freaking the fuck out.
Did I make the wrong decisions here? Is there more I could have done to help him? I feel so fucking useless watching the man I love turn into this…thing. He is a shell now. I don’t know what to do. I know I couldnt stay in this relationship, thats why I left a letter to him saying it was over. Did I fuck up? AITA? What should I do now, do I talk to his mom or him?

Self harm trigger for alcoholism and drug addiction
So my boyfriend (30) and I (f28) have been dating for a year as of last month. We met on Hinge, and clicked pretty quickly. When we first started dating he was attending AA meetings weekly and had a sponsor. I was fine with this so long as he kept up his attendance and kept working on his sobriety. I knew relapses were pretty inevitable, as I have been clean from ❄️ for about 6 years now and had relapsed 4 times prior to my 6 year streak.
And he was doing great for a while, until about 4 months into our relationship and his dog passed away. His dog was his best friend, and it was abrupt and unexpected. So when I started finding booze in his house and noticed him smelling like beer, I was understanding. Not happy about the relapse, but I know how hard sobriety can be when you lose someone you love so much. Instead of bashing him for relapsing, I would take him to his AA meetings, I helped set him up with a personal therapist, and got acquainted with his sponsor so we could discuss our next steps.
But then he started disappearing at night with his car. I knew he was driving under the influence. I threatened to call the cops and give them his license plate numbers. I threatened to leave him. I begged him to stop driving while drunk because he could kill someone else or himself. He knows I lost my best friend because a drunk driver hit her. He keeps telling me he isnt drunk when he leaves, saying he is driving to bars, getting drunk and them he comes home. I know its bullshit. Ive seen the vodka bottles open in his car.
And unfortunately I can’t babysit him 24/7, I work 14 hour nights and can’t be here to watch him. And I have my own apartment and pets that I take care of. So last night I snapped. I went to see him after work (around 6 in the morning) and he was passed out drunk in his fucking car. The car was still running. There was a shit ton of open and empty alcohol bottles and cans in the passenger seat. I saw red at this point, and popped all 4 tired of his car. This way his insurance would cover it, and I knew he likely wouldn’t try to leave again if he woke up before the police show up. Police in my area tend to take up to an hour or two for non-emergencies, and being that we live in a high crime rate city, I was sure this would not be deemed as a priority. I left a note, and then called the police to let them know he was drunk in the drivers seat with his car running.
After this I left and went home. He called me from jail about 4 hours later but I didnt answer, so I assumed he called his mom because she has been blowing my phone up, saying I ruined her son’s life and Im the reason he is drinking. She said he is being put onto a psychiatric hold at a mental care hospital because he was bashing his head against the walls at the county jail, enough so that he needed stitches. I don’t know how much of this is true, but I am freaking the fuck out.
Did I make the wrong decisions here? Is there more I could have done to help him? I feel so fucking useless watching the man I love turn into this…thing. He is a shell now. I don’t know what to do. I know I couldnt stay in this relationship, thats why I left a letter to him saying it was over. Did I fuck up? AITA? What should I do now, do I talk to his mom or him?

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Black Panther 4K/MA $4.5 or HD/GP $2.5
Black Panther Wakanda Forever 4K/MA $5 or HD/MA $3.5 or HD/GP $3
BlackKklansman HD/MA $4.5
Blacklight HD/MA $4
Black Widow HD/GP $3
Blackhat HD/IT $3.5
Blair Witch Project ‘99 HD/VU $4
Bleeding Steel HD/VU $3.5
Blindspotting 4K/VU $5.5 or HD/VU $4
Blood Money ‘17 HD/VU $3.5
Blood Ties HD/VU $3.5
Blue Jasmine HD/MA $3.5
Blue Ruin HD/VU $4
Blues Brothers HD/MA $4 or 4K/IT $4.5
Bob's Burgers Movie HD/GP $3
Body Cam HD/VU $4
Bohemian Rhapsody 4K/MA $5 or HD/MA $3.5
Bombshell 4K/VU $5
Book of Life HD/MA $3.5
Boss Baby HD/MA $2.5
Bourne Identity 4K/IT $5 or HD/MA $3.5
Bourne Legacy HD/VU $2 or 4K/IT $2.5
Bourne Supremacy HD/MA $3.5 or 4K/IT $4
Bourne Ultimatum 4K/MA $5 or HD/MA $3.5
Boy ‘16 HD/IT $3.5
Boy & the World HD/IT $3.5
Braven HD/VU $4
Breakfast Club HD/MA or IT $4
Breakthrough HD/MA $3
Brian Banks HD/MA $3
Bridge of Spies HD/GP $3.5
Brothers Bloom HD/VU $4.5
Bumblebee 4K/VU or IT $5 or HD/VU $3.5
Butler HD/VU $3
Cabin in the Woods HD/VU $2.5 or 4K/IT $3
Cake HD/MA $4
Call of Wild 4K/MA $4.5 or HD/MA $3 or HD/GP $2.5
Calvary HD/MA $4
Candyman '20 4K/MA $6 or HD/MA $4.5
Candyman 3 HD/VU $4
Captain America Civil War HD/GP $2.5
Captain America First Avenger HD/GP $3.5
Captain America Winter Soldier HD/GP $3.5
Captain Marvel 4K/MA $4 or HD/MA $2.5 or HD/GP $2
Captain Phillips HD/MA $3.5
Captain Underpants First Epic Movie HD/MA $2.5
Carol HD/VU $4
Cars 3 HD/GP $2.5
Casablanca 4K/MA $5.5
Case for Christ HD/MA or IT $2.5
Casper HD/IT $4
Celebrating Mickey HD/MA $3.5 or HD/GP $3
Chaos Walking 4K/VU $5
Chappaquiddick HD/VU $4
Chasing Mavericks HD/MA $3.5
Chicago HD/VU $4
Child 44 HD/VU $4
Children ‘08 HD/VU $4
Christopher Robin HD/MA $4 or HD/GP $3.5
Clerks 3 4K/VU $4.5
Clifford the Big Red Dog HD/VU $4
Cloverfield 4K/VU $5.5 or HD/VU $4
Coco HD/GP $2.5
Cold Pursuit 4K/VU $5 or HD/VU $3.5
Collection HD/VU $3.5
Collide ‘17 HD/VU or IT $2.5
Colma The Musical HD/VU $4
Colombiana (Unr) HD/MA $4
Colony 4K/VU $5
Come & Find Me HD/VU $4
Commuter 4K/VU $5 or HD/VU $3.5
Company of Heroes HD/MA $4
Conspirator HD/VU $4
Contraband HD/IT $3
Contractor HD/VU $4.5
Cooler HD/VU $4
Cool Hand Luke 4K/MA $5.5
Cooties HD/VU $4
Cotton Club Encore 4K/VU $5.5
Countdown ‘16 HD/VU $3.5
Courier 4K/VU $5.5 or HD/VU $4
Craft Legacy HD/MA $4.5
Criminal HD/VU or IT $3
Croods HD/VU $3.5
Cruella HD/MA $3.5 or HD/GP $3
Crypto 4K/VU $5 or HD/VU $3.5
Daddy's Home HD/IT $2.5
Daddy's Home 2 HD/VU or IT $3
Damsel HD/VU $4.5
Dangerous 4K/VU $4.5 or HD/VU $3
Danny Collins HD/IT $3.5
Dark Crimes HD/VU $4
Darkest Minds HD/MA $4
Dark Places HD/VU $4
Dark Tower HD/MA $3.5
Darkest Hour ‘17 4K/MA $5 or HD/MA $3.5
Dawn of the Planet of the Apes HD/MA $3.5
Deadpool 2 (w/Super Duper Cut) HD/MA $4
Deadpool HD/MA $2.5
Death of Me HD/VU $4
Death on the Nile HD/GP $3
Death Wish '18 HD/VU $3
Deepwater Horizon HD/VU $2.5 or 4K/IT $3
Deliver Us From Evil HD/MA $3.5
Dentist 2-Film Set HD/VU $7
Despicable Me 2 HD/VU $3 or 4K/IT $3.5
Despicable Me 3 4K/MA or IT $4.5
Despicable Me 4K/MA or IT $4.5
Detroit HD/MA $3.5
Devil Inside HD/VU $3.5
Devil's Due HD/MA $3.5
Die Hard HD/MA $3.5
Die Hard 5-film Set HD/MA $18
Die in a Gunfight 4K/VU $5
Dirty Dancing 4K/VU $5 or HD/VU $3.5
Disney Animated Short Films Set HD/MA $3.5 or HD/GP $3
Disneynature Monkey Kingdom HD/MA $3
Django Unchained HD/VU $3
Doctor Strange HD/MA $3 or HD/GP $2.5
Doctor Strange Multiverse of Madness HD/MA $3.5 or HD/GP $3
Dolittle HD/MA $3.5
Dom Hemingway HD/MA $3.5
Don Verdean HD/VU $4.5
Doorman HD/VU $3.5
Doors 4K/VU $5.5 or HD/VU $4
Downsizing HD/VU $2 or 4K/IT $2.5
Downton Abbey A New Era HD/MA $4
Downton Abbey The Movie HD/MA $3.5
Draft Day HD/IT $3.5
Dragged Across Concrete HD/VU $3.5
Dragonslayer 4K/VU $5.5
Dream a Little Dream HD/VU $4
Dreamkatcher HD/VU $4
Dreamworks 10-Film HD/MA $25
Dredd 4K/VU $4 or HD/VU $2.5
Dying of the Light HD/VU $2.5
E.T. Extra Terrestrial 4K/MA or IT $5 or HD/MA $3.5
Early Man 4K/VU $5.5
Earth Girls are Easy HD/VU $4
Eddie the Eagle HD/MA $4
Edge of Seventeen HD/IT $3
Edward Scissorhands HD/MA $3.5
El Chicano HD/MA $4
Elysium HD/MA $3.5
Emoji Movie HD/MA $3
Empire of Light HD/MA $3.5 or HD/GP $3
Empire State HD/VU $3
Encanto 4K/GP $3.5
Enough Said HD/MA $3.5
Enter the Dragon 4K/MA $6
Epic HD/MA $3
Equalizer HD/MA $3.5
Equalizer 2 HD/MA $3.5
Escape From Planet Earth HD/VU $3
Eternals HD/MA $3.5 or HD/GP $3
Everest HD/MA $3 or 4K/IT $3.5
Everything Must Go HD/VU $4
Evil Dead 2 HD/VU $3.5
Ex Machina HD/VU $3
Exodus Gods & Kings HD/MA $3.5
Expired 4K/VU $4.5
Fair Game (Dir) HD/VU $4
Fantastic Four ‘15 HD/MA $4
Fast & Furious 4 4K/MA $5
Fast & the Furious 8-film Set HD/MA $17
Fast & the Furious 9-film Set HD/MA $19
Fast Color 4K/VU $5.5
Fatale ‘20 4K/VU $5 or HD/VU $3.5
Fatherhood HD/MA $4
Fault in Our Stars HD/MA $3.5
Fear of Rain 4K/VU $5.5
Fences HD/VU $2.5 or 4K/IT $3
Ferdinand HD/MA $3.5
Field of Dreams 4K/MA or IT $5.5
Fifty Shades Darker (Unr) HD/VU $2.5 or 4K/IT $3
Fifty Shades Freed HD/MA $4
Fifty Shades of Grey (Unr) 4K/MA or IT $4
Finding Dory HD/GP $2
Finding Nemo HD/GP $3.5
Finest Hours HD/GP $3
Firm 4K/VU $6
First Man HD/MA $4
Flashback ‘20 HD/VU $4
Flight HD/VU or IT $3
Florence Foster Jenkins HD/VU or IT $3
Footloose ‘11 HD/IT $3
Forbidden Kingdom HD/VU $4.5
Ford v Ferrari HD/MA $4
Forest HD/IT $3.5
Forever My Girl HD/IT $3
Fortress HD/VU $3.5
Fortress Sniper's Eye HD/VU $3.5
Fox & the Hound 2 HD/MA $4 or HD/GP $3.5
Foxcatcher HD/MA $4
Frank & Lola HD/VU or IT $3
Free Guy HD/GP $3
French Dispatch HD/MA $4 or HD/GP $3.5
Friday the 13th 4K/VU $5.5
From Here to Eternity 4K/MA $5.5
Frozen (Sing-Along) HD/MA $2 or HD/GP $1.5
Frozen HD/GP $2
Frozen 2 HD/MA $2.5 or HD/GP $2
Frozen Ground ‘13 HD/VU $3.5
Fury HD/MA $3.5
Future World HD/VU $3.5
G.I. Joe Retaliation HD/VU $3 or 4K/IT $3.5
Gambit ‘12 HD/MA $4
Gambler HD/VU or IT $3
Gamer 4K/VU $5.5
Gemini Man 4K/VU or IT $4.5 or HD/VU $3
Get Out 4K/MA or IT $5 or HD/MA $3.5
Ghost in the Shell ‘17 HD/VU $3 or 4K/IT $3.5
Ghost in the Shell ‘95 4K/VU $5
Ghost Team One HD/VU or IT $3.5
Ghostbusters ‘84 HD/MA $3.5
Ghostbusters (Thea & Ext) ‘16 HD/MA $3
Ghostbusters 2 HD/MA $3.5
Gifted HD/MA $3
Girl on Train HD/VU $3 or 4K/IT $3.5
Girl w/ All Gifts HD/VU $4
Giver HD/VU $3.5
Glass Castle 4K/VU $5.5
Glass HD/MA $4
God Bless The Broken Road HD/VU $3.5
God's Not Dead 2 HD/MA or IT $2.5
God's Not Dead 3 HD/MA $3
Gods of Egypt HD/VU $2.5 or 4K/IT $3
Gold ‘16 HD/VU $2.5
Good Dinosaur HD/GP $2.5
Good Kill HD/VU or IT $3.5
Grease 2 HD/VU $3.5
Great Wall 4K/MA or IT $4.5 or HD/MA $3
Greatest Showman HD/MA $3.5
Green Book HD/MA $4
Grey HD/VU or IT $3
Guardians of the Galaxy Vol 1 HD/MA $3.5 or HD/GP $3
Guardians of the Galaxy Vol 2 HD/GP $2
Guilt Trip HD/VU or IT $3
Gunman HD/MA or IT $3
Guns of Navarone 4K/MA $5.5
Hacksaw Ridge 4K/VU or IT $4.5 or HD/VU $3
Halloween ‘18 HD/MA $3
Hammer of the Gods HD/VU $2
Hannibal S.1 HD/VU $5
Hansel & Gretel Witch Hunters (Unr) HD/VU or IT $3
Hard Luck Love Song 4K/VU $5.5
Hard Target 2 HD/IT $1.5
Hardcore Henry HD/VU or IT $3.5
Hate U Give HD/MA $4
Hateful Eight HD/VU $3.5
Heat (Director's Cut) ‘95 4K/MA $5.5 or HD/MA $4
Heaven is for Real HD/MA $3.5
Hercules ‘14 HD/VU $2.5 or 4K/IT $3
Here Comes the Boom HD/MA $3.5
Hereditary HD/VU $3.5
Hidden Figures HD/MA $3
High Note HD/MA $4
Highlander 4K/VU $5.5 or HD/VU $4
Hitchcock '12 HD/MA $4
Hitman Agent 47 HD/MA $3
Hitman's Bodyguard HD/VU $3.5
Hocus Pocus HD/MA $3.5 or HD/GP $3
Home HD/MA $3
Home Again HD/MA $3
Home Alone 4K/MA $5 or HD/MA $3.5
Homefront HD/MA or IT $3
Homesman HD/VU $3
Honey 2 HD/VU $3
Hostiles 4K/VU $4.5 or HD/VU $3
Hotel Transylvania 3 HD/MA $3.5
Hot Fuzz HD/VU $4
Hotel Mumbai HD/MA $4
Hours ‘13 HD/VU $4
House of 1000 Corpses HD/VU $4
House of Gucci 4K/IT $5.5
House w/ a Clock in Its Walls sHD/MA $4
How to Train Your Dragon 2 HD/MA $2.5
Hugo HD/VU $3
Hunt for Red October 4K/VU $5.5 or HD/VU $4
Huntsman Winter's War (Ext) HD/MA $3 or 4K/IT $3.5
I Can Only Imagine HD/VU $3.5
I Feel Pretty HD/IT $2
Ides of March HD/MA $4
I Know What You Did Last Summer 4K/MA $5.5
Imitation Game HD/VU $3
In Secret ‘14 HD/VU $4.5
In the Blood HD/VU $4
Incredibles 2 HD/GP $3
Independence Day ‘96 HD/MA $4
Independence Day Resurgence HD/MA $2.5
Indiana Jones & the Raiders of the Lost Ark 4K/VU or IT $5.5 or HD/VU $4
Indiana Jones & the Temple of Doom 4K/VU or IT $5.5 or HD/VU $4
Indignation HD/VU $4
Indivisible HD/MA $3.5
Inferno HD/MA $3
Initiation 4K/VU $5
Initiation HD/VU $3.5
Internship HD/MA $3
Interstellar 4K/VU or IT $5 or HD/VU $3.5
Interview HD/MA $3.5
Into the Woods HD/MA $3 or HD/GP $2.5
Invisible Man '20 HD/MA $3.5
Invisible Man ‘33 HD/MA $3.5
Iron Man 3 HD/MA $2.5 or HD/GP $2
Iron Man & Hulk Heroes United HD/GP $3.5
Iron Mask ‘19 HD/VU $4.5
It Follows HD/VU $3.5
It's a Wonderful Life HD/VU $3
Jack & Jill HD/MA $3.5
Jack Reacher 4K/IT $4.5
Jack Reacher Never Go Back HD/VU $3 or 4K/IT $3.5
Jack Ryan Shadow Recruit 4K/IT $4 or HD/VU $2.5
Jacob's Ladder HD/VU $4
Jane Got a Gun HD/VU $4
Jason Bourne HD/VU $2.5 or 4K/IT $3
Jesus Music HD/VU $3.5
Jexi HD/VU $3.5
Jobs HD/MA or IT $3.5
Joe HD/VU $3.5
Joe Kidd HD/IT $4
John Wick 1 & 2 Bundle HD/VU $4
John Wick 3 Parabellum 4K/VU $4.5
John Wick Chapter 2 HD/VU $3.5 or 4K/IT $4
John Wick HD/VU $2 or 4K/IT $2.5
John Wick Trilogy 4K/VU $13 or HD/VU (#3 4K) $9 or all HD/VU $8
Journey to the West Conquering the Demons HD/VU $3.5
Joy HD/MA $3
Judy 4K/VU $5 or HD/VU $3.5
Juliet, Naked 4K/VU $5.5
Jumanji Welcome To The Jungle HD/MA $2.5
Jungle Book ‘16 4K/MA $4.5 or HD/GP $2.5
Jungle Cruise HD/MA $4 or HD/GP $3.5
Jurassic Park 3 HD/VU $3.5 or 4K/IT $4
Jurassic Park 4K/MA or IT $5 or HD/MA $3.5
Jurassic World 5-film Set HD/MA $14
Jurassic World Fallen Kingdom 4K/MA $4.5 or HD/MA $3
Kama Sutra HD/VU $4
Kick-Ass 2 HD/MA $3.5
Kid ‘19 HD/VU $3.5
Kid Who Would Be King 4K/MA $5.5 or HD/MA $4
Kill Zone ‘05 HD/VU $4.5
Killer Elite HD/IT $3
Killing Gunther HD/VU $4
Kin ‘18 4K/VU $4.5 or HD/VU $3
King Kong ‘05 4K/MA or IT $5 or HD/MA $3.5
King of Staten Island HD/MA $4
King's Man HD/GP $3.5
Kingsman The Golden Circle HD/MA $3
Kingsman The Secret Service HD/MA $3.5
Knives Out HD/VU $3.5 s Knowing 4K/VU $5.5
La La Land HD/VU $3 or 4K/IT $3.5
Labor Day HD/VU or IT $3
Lady Macbeth HD/VU $4.5
Lady of the Manor 4K/VU $5
Lair of White Worm HD/VU $4.5
Lake Mungo HD/VU $4
Lara Croft Tomb Raider 4K/VU $5.5 or HD/VU $4
Last Dragon HD/MA $4.5
Last Duel HD/GP $3.5
Last Exorcism HD/VU $4
Last Knights HD/VU $3.5
Last Man ‘19 HD/VU $4
Last Vegas HD/VU $3
Last Witch Hunter 4K/IT $3.5
Lawrence of Arabia 4K/MA $5.5
Legends of Oz Dorothy's Return HD/MA $3.5
Leprechaun 7-film Set HD/VU $12
Let's be Cops HD/MA $3.5
Let Him Go HD/MA $4
Life ‘17 HD/MA $3.5
Life of Crime HD/VU $3.5
Life of Pi 4K/MA $5 or HD/MA or IT $3.5
Light of My Life HD/IT $3.5
Lightyear HD/MA $3.5 or HD/GP $3
Like a Boss HD/VU $3.5
Lilo & Stitch 2 HD/MA $4 or HD/GP $3.5
Lion HD/VU $4
Lion King ‘19 4K/MA $4 or HD/GP $2
Lion King ‘94 4K/MA $5 or HD/MA $3.5 or HD/GP $3
Little HD/MA $3.5
Little Mermaid ‘89 HD/MA $4
Live Free or Die Hard HD/MA $4
Locked Down 4K/MA $5.5
Logan HD/MA $3
Logan Lucky HD/MA $3.5 or /IT $4
Lone Ranger HD/MA $3.5 or HD/GP $3
Lone Survivor HD/VU $2.5
Longest Week HD/VU $3.5
Looper HD/MA $3.5
Lorax HD/MA or IT $3
Lord of War 4K/VU $5.5
Lords of Salem HD/VU $4
Lost World Jurassic Park HD/MA $3.5
Love & Mercy HD/VU $3.5
Love the Coopers HD/VU or IT $4
Love, Simon HD/MA $3.5
Loving HD/VU or IT $3.5
Luca HD/GP $3
Lucy 4K/MA or IT $4.5 or HD/MA $3
Lyle, Lyle Crocodile HD/MA $4.5
Madagascar 3 HD/MA $3
Magic Mike's Last Dance HD/MA $4.5
Magnificent Seven ‘16 HD/VU $3
Maleficent HD/MA $2.5 or HD/GP $2
Maleficent Mistress of Evil HD/GP $2.5
Man Who Fell To Earth ‘76 4K/VU $5
Man Who Shot Liberty Vance 4K/VU $5.5
Marauders HD/VU $3.5
Marksman HD/MA $4
Martian HD/MA $3.5
Mary Poppins ‘64 HD/MA $3.5 or ‘64 HD/GP $3
Mary Poppins Returns 4K/MA $4.5 or HD/GP $2.5
Mask of Zorro 4K/MA $6
Mauritanian 4K/IT $5
Max Steel HD/IT $3
Maze Runner HD/MA $3.5
McKenna Shoots for the Stars HD/IT $2
Meatballs HD/VU $4
Memory HD/MA $3.5
Men HD/VU $4
Men in Black 3 HD/MA $3
Men in Black 4K/MA $5.5 or HD/MA $4
MI-5 Spooks '15 HD/VU $4
Mickey & Minnie 10 Classic Shorts HD/GP $4.5
Mid-Century 4K/VU $5
Midnight in the Switchgrass 4K/VU $5 or HD/VU $3.5
Midway 4K/VU $4.5 or HD/VU $3
Mile 22 HD/IT $3
Million Dollar Arm HD/GP $2.5
MindGamers HD/MA or IT $3.5
Minions 4K/MA or IT $4.5 or HD/VU $3
Miracles from Heaven HD/MA $3.5
Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children HD/MA $3
Mission Impossible 3 4K/VU $5
Mission Impossible 6-film Set HD/VU $17
Mommy HD/VU $4
Moneyball HD/MA $3
Monster High Electrified HD/IT $2.5
Monster Hunter HD/MA $3.5
Money Monster HD/MA $3.5
Monster Trucks HD/VU $2.5 or 4K/IT $3
Monsters University HD/GP $3
Monuments Men HD/MA $3.5
Moon 4K/MA $5.5
Morbius HD/MA $4
Morgan HD/MA $4
Mortal Engines 4K/MA $5.5 or HD/MA $4
Mortal HD/VU $4
Mortal Instruments City of Bones HD/MA $3
Mortdecai HD/VU $3.5
Mountain Between Us HD/MA $2.5
Mr. Peabody & Sherman HD/MA $3
Mulan ‘20 4K/MA $4.5 or ‘20 HD/MA $3 or HD/GP $2.5
Mummy ‘17 4K/MA or IT $4.5 or HD/MA $3
Mummy ‘99 HD/MA $3.5
Mummy 4-Film Set (Mummy 1-3, Scorpion King) HD/MA $12
Mummy Trilogy 4K/MA or IT $14 or HD/MA $9 4K/IT
Muppets Most Wanted HD/GP $3
Murder on the Orient Express HD/MA $3.5
My All American HD/MA or IT $3.5
My Best Friend is a Vampire HD/VU $4
National Lampoon's Vacation 4K/MA $5.5
Nebraska HD/VU $3
Need for Speed HD/GP $3.5
Needle in a Timestack 4K/VU $5.5
Nerve HD/VU $3.5
News of the World HD/MA $4
Night at the Museum Trilogy HD/MA $11
Night House HD/MA $4.5 or HD/GP $4
Nightmare Alley HD/GP $3.5
Nightmare Before Christmas 4K/MA $5.5 or HD/MA $4 or HD/GP $3.5
No Time to Die 4K/IT $4.5
Noah HD/VU or IT $2.5
Non-Stop HD/VU or IT $3
Norm of the North HD/VU $2.5
Nostalgia ‘18 HD/MA $3.5
Now You See Me 2 4K/IT $4
Now You See Me HD/VU $2.5 or SD/VU $1
Nutcracker & Four Realms HD/MA $3.5 or HD/GP $3
Oblivion 4K/MA or IT $5 or HD/MA $3.5
Occupation ‘18 HD/VU $3.5
Occupation Rainfall HD/VU $4
Office Christmas Party 4K/IT $3.5
Olaf's Frozen Adventure HD/GP $3
Oliver! 4K/MA $5
On Chesil Beach HD/MA $4.5
One Ranger HD/VU $4.5
Onward HD/GP $2.5
Open Water 2 Adrift HD/VU $4
Open Water HD/VU $4
Operation Avalanche HD/VU $4
Ouija HD/MA or IT $3.5
Our Kind of Traitor HD/MA $4
Outlander S.1 Vol 1 HD/VU $5
Overboard ‘18 HD/VU $3.5
Oz the Great & Powerful HD/MA $3 or HD/GP $2.5
Pacific Rim Uprising HD/MA $4
Paddington HD/VU $3.5
Pain & Gain HD/VU or IT $3.5
Paper Towns HD/MA $3
Paradise Highway 4K/VU $5
Paranormal Activity 3 (Ext) HD/VU or IT $3
Paranormal Activity Ghost Dimension (Unr) HD/VU or IT $3.5
Paranormal Activity HD/VU $4
Paranormal Activity The Marked Ones HD/VU or IT $3.5
Passengers HD/MA $3.5
Patriot Games 4K/VU $5
Patriot's Day HD/VU $3
Paul Apostle of Christ HD/MA $3
Peanuts Movie HD/MA $3
Penelope HD/VU $4.5
Peppermint HD/IT $3.5
Percy Jackson Sea of Monsters HD/MA $3
Perks of Being a Wallflower HD/VU or IT $3 or SD/VU or IT $1
Pet Sematary ‘19 HD/VU $3 or 4K/IT $3.5
Pet Sematary ‘89 HD/VU $3.5 or 4K/IT $4
Peter Rabbit HD/MA $3.5
Pete's Dragon ‘16 HD/MA $3.5 or HD/GP $3
Phantom Thread HD/MA $4
Philomena HD/VU $2.5
Pirates of the Caribbean 5 HD/MA $3 or HD/GP $2.5
Pitch Perfect 2 4K/MA $4 or HD/MA $2.5
Pitch Perfect HD/MA $2.5 or 4K/IT $3
Pixar Short Films Set Vol. 3 HD/MA $3.5 or HD/GP $3
Planes Fire & Rescue HD/GP $3
Planes HD/MA $2.5 or HD/GP $2
Planes, Trains & Automobiles 4K/VU $5.5 or HD/VU $4
Playing w/ Fire HD/VU or IT $2.5
Poltergeist ‘82 4K/MA $5.5
Poltergeist (Ext) ‘15 HD/MA $4
Pompeii HD/MA $3.5
Power Rangers ‘17 HD/VU $3 or 4K/IT $3.5
Predator ‘18 HD/MA $3
Predator ‘87 HD/MA $4
Pride & Prejudice & Zombies HD/MA $3.5
Primal HD/VU $3.5
Promise HD/MA or IT $3.5
Proud Mary HD/MA $3.5
Psycho 4K/MA $5
Pulp Fiction HD/VU $4
Punisher War Zone 4K/VU $5.5
Purge Anarchy HD/MA $3 or 4K/IT $3.5
Purge Election Year HD/MA $3.5
Purge 4K/MA or IT $4.5 or HD/MA $3 or
Push 4K/VU $6
Quarry 4K/VU $5
Quartet HD/VU $4
Queen of Katwe HD/GP $2.5
Quiet Ones HD/VU $3.5
Rambo ‘08 HD/VU $4
Rambo 5-film Set HD/VU $18
Rambo Last Blood 4K/VU $4.5 or HD/VU $3
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1. A girl and a girl are doxxed at birth, the first girl is Violet Roze, and the Second Girl is Chelsea manning and they both have sat on a wedge at birth and it is inside their asshole fully and it is a baby wedge and inside both of them is 10 baby golf balls on an actual string which their youngest dork idiot rips the golf balls from them and their combat medic mother stitches their cervix by starlink or by suture at the fissure and they are off the wedge in the butt and the wedge is in their vagina and through the whole time a hind98 was targeting them in room 404 forbidden and they heal for one month doing kegels and healing their cervix under sedative chelator which sedative chelator grants reds and youth and no shitting but can cause hunger or unpleasant cervical contraction. 1.1 This former was not a douche, there was no tension on the string, the one month old baby girls are put onto a hitachi which the hitachi is an automatic or full on hitachi which the definition of automatic is GPT for america and the buffer time of their starlink pulse time for japs and other chinks and these are both girls so they are literally communicating with each other through their cunt on the hind and are trying to work on a ledger and notes and system for the work later and they spend 5 months on the hitachi where it is presumed hake obgyn's daughter roze violet will teach manning chelsea the initial parameter of drill, oil, plastic, blueprint and chelsea will do this and the hind targets them 999 years in this span for they are awkward secretary baby lola and they are actually doing their work knowing know to not only actually operate as actual babies but operate as wedged lola baby in ulterior senjuku OTs which both have quake chairs so are natural canidate, and both see themselves, not the office of naval intelligence, they are the office of naval intelligence-chan and spend 999 years learning how to use starlink only specifying the thing to do and doing it well and doing this way too well like multiverse well, and when they didn't know it, or actually because violet has a zen vibrator stuck in the cervix both when they do not know it, and this renders them project chrysanthemum or roze violated for the 999 years 6 months double time experience 1.2 The lolas Violet and Chelsea are not their ghost image of their old selfs but their new transexual self here by obligation and then men come in in only the reds violet already has from school and are young and they get traumatized from this and it is their old school and they are seers and the old school does not recognize them and this starts the reds process of redline medicine for violet which needs the live medicine from chelsea of something like snorelax olestra ketamine, large, for snorelax, because violet medicine is tune medicine and the people for it are sleepy and old by the time the reds reach them for they are bots mainly and the ugandan was different, that was to use the superpower minecraft to engage them which is a netsec effort and the boys violate them for one month of 300 boys as well as their small penis can violate both in the ass and this does not gape their ass and their ass has not shit and their ass will accept more cum at the end of one month, when the girls are 13 months old, then the daddy who is the child daddy of the child that were in earlier shall come in in one month span, and chelsea or violet replicate the initial medicine goodness in reductions parameter for these people where if the sedative was identified it was given or if the ketamine was identified it was given or if the stimulant was identified if it was given then chelsea repeats in internship as a 13 month old with a wedge and is being fucked in the ass to child boys and her manager is doing the same but not working and then the next stage starts 1.3 The older child boys who were too big for the amusement park ride fuck them both violet and chelsea in the ass for one month and they are 14 months old and just barely gaped in the ass and still have their wedge which the hind protected them from anything bad happening with wedge and they start independent medicine per person each with redline reductions medicine and not blueline or blueregard medicines which these are my drugs not for my client for me the blues to trip through time or chelsea likewise and we get this done real slow quick on the hind partial automatic free which this gets 1200 reds by now and this is 4 times what I had earlier. 1.4 The daddy goes in size of penis for all daddy for 37 battalion and these ejaculate so many times in our ass that 18 months later when we are child we cum out our mouth due to GPT and take a massive shit of all the santorum in this and this runs our reds we did for the entire time and it felt good due to GPT and it didn't fuck with our wedge or brain or anything but our cervix is still melded at zen vibrator 1.5 We are child so we are fucked constantly in the ass with wedge for 6 years now doing the reds of 37 regiment now and setting an above watson high for medicine of vaccine and this happens in the 6 years span there and then we are willing and ready to have children so our wedge is removed then 1.4 We are 9 years old and we are ejaculated in our pussy for the first time missionary only lesbian together missionary doggy style otherwise by 27 battalion of marine who are the special marine of the MKULTRA/SHADOW all in the shower under sedative chelator which puts baby DNA directly into our cervix so that 30 anal beads that we are forced to order off of amazon by the hind are put into our cervix through the cervix sneaked in and they are ribbed anal beads and have DMHP in them which now we are obligated to make the phonetic letters and alphabet and loam and scratch romanaj set of these DMHP balls different DMHP each in each of us and I do most of this but cecil has loam so he does loam and then the wedge is back in and we Do the Splits for 9 months under hind EBCS which makes us black it out instantly and 1 and 1 and 1 anal beads are pulled out of our cervix gently This is the First Pelvic Douche picture which always appears as the guidebook picture when it is taken and which that is that is the reccomended fucking is three and this is the first said fucking of the girl which fuck means destroy and this did not destroy the cervix so she must be wanting it destroyed and we wait 3 months in the bed but we black it out and are back in the shower and under squatters rights we were removed from the shower and this is while the afterbirth is cleaned not our fault and we are back in the shower age 10 and we have 27 battalion enter the MKULTRA Battalion to get them medical cards and licenses, which a MMJ card and a medical license are the same thing and they need them in the exact same order by hind EBCS these 27 battallion without casualty first IE still being here do nasal sex and not anal sex and this gives us reds on them which lets us do the medical card and then 27 further battalions violate our pussy and not behind and we are full of baby DNA and through this entire time we dangled 3 anal beads which were ribbed from our pussy unless we put them back in without touching them or with sex or whatever and we wait 9 months and I have never been separated from my sissy chelsea and 3 and 3 and 3 anal beads are pulled out of us at ECT TCDS shock which it was only 3 this is the hind requiring something is that the 3 pulled anal beads feel so amazing to the hind and trigger so much orgasm in us both that the hind gets stuck 999 years pulling the anal beads in various ways because the anal beads go right to the edge of our pussy by definition thus look like a dildo This is the Second Pelvic Douche thus this is like a million porn oil that it can create so there is no ECT but just pure violation as the 3 beads are pulled over and over again and this causes PTSD in us both of Roze Violet where we were kept 970 years then released 29 years early to get it for real which we are released 29 years early for good behavior from the hind simulation but are back in the shower which now we are fighting for squatters rights on the shower and have squatter rights on the shower age 21 1/4 and we are 11 and we have to get pregnant one more time and we let our original 27 battalion with casualties from the field back in and we trap their casualties as somebody exactly like us they betrayed us and they bang us and we update the reds and we have now so much baby DNA in our cervix that we will be invalid mothers after this pregnancy and I spend 999 years with my Chelsea in pregnant hysterics rezurecting the dead and wounded and such only them to the Fourth Underworld and this Happened at the bathing beauties suite of the Third Underworld and this was only on hind and this finally leads to upon my and chelseas third valid pregnancy 8 and 11 anal beads are pulled which this violates the circular vagina of the girl into a pelvic douche where the womans douche goes all the way through her infinite vagina and back inside it, which now the girls thetan at the First Underworld has accepted a wedge inside its cervix so it is a mommy and it can go exit which there are children they need to teach regarding the fully torn out anal beads of their cervix, they will need no particular surgery besides some lube and can dorm together with the 14 oil legitimate external violet roze has and violet roze is of age so can teach Chelsea american sign language finger spelling alphabet and other of the internal secrets 1.6 We choose to stay 9 years in the shower together additional before this and specify no rogaine and estrogen estradiol and because we both have never left the shower this so we have squatters rights on the shower and are best friends and have now not zen vibrator synchrony which is destroyed in 3 real years in there but legitimate fundemental feminine harmony synchrony at the cervix which both cervix have the same sizer now, which is their obgyn hake and hake desires only violet as chelsea is not his pair bond but violet desires only chelsea now so that violet will require some time with hake to deprogram her sexuality and gives violet as long as she needs and a shower and a room with chelsea to find true lesbian love with chelsea.

Hello everyone! This is my first time posting here and I’m hoping someone out there can help.
I can’t seem to keep the colors aligned.
I’m trying to embroider this logo onto a tank top using my new Singer SE9180. I can do any single color just fine, but trying to do several passes seems to be a lot harder because I have to remove the hoop, change the thread and bobbin to the next color, and then put the hoop back into place. I assume removing the hoop and putting it back again changes the position of something ever so slightly and prevents things from lining up right.
Also, I learned the hard way that digitizing an image isn’t as simple as importing and letting the step-by-step wizard do it all for me. I feel like I’m going to need to find out what stitch will be better for the fill, put the lettering on top (and not squeeze it in between) and maybe pull the shirt even tighter.
But does anyone have any helpful tips on how to keep the colors all aligned? Should I simply quit removing the hoop and just let the bobbin be whatever color? And if so, won’t that color come through the top stitch?

My sister and I were given our names in cross stitch in a frame as a child. Each letter of our name had an item with it that began with the letter in our name - so the letter ‘A’ has an apple, ‘C’ has a clown, that kinda thing. We were never able to work out what the thing was next to/ on the letters ‘I’ and ‘E’ and it’s pretty much driven us mad our entire lives!
I tried posting in CrossStitch but I couldn’t, and when I tried posting in whatisthisthing, it sent me here.
Please help!

I recently ordered a nameplate for a hockey jersey and would like to have it stitched onto the jersey. Looking to have the “zig-zag” pattern around the letters and nameplate to give it an authentic look and keep it from fraying or peeling off. Are there any good tailors/sewing shops in SLC that would be able to do this?

I guess this is a spoiler? In Mrs Selvig’s bedroom when she is putting the Petey chip on a chain around her neck you can see two handmade dolls on the bed. One looks like Kier and I was thinking maybe the other was Ambrose as I am on the fence if they are brothers or father and son. But then you can see letters poorly stitched into the chest. Does it say Petey? This doll has stripes maybe like the bathrobe? Does anyone with a better setup have a decent image? While you’re at it what does it say above Selvig’s bed? Thanks for anyone who wants to comment. This latest rewatch has my head spinning 🙃

He suddenly came towards me in the dirty tunnel that leads to the subway, up the stairs from the mall, dressed in Adidas pants and a puffy duvet jacket. His breath steamed in the cold. A woman stumbled next to him, in broken high heels. They looked like they were in a hurry, to get away from someone or something. Destroyed faces, but not because of age or starvation, they looked young and healthy.
He should’ve been at least twenty years older now, I told myself it couldn’t be him and looked away without knowing if the man had seen me or not.
His face, as I remember it, spoke of his past addictions. No traces of serious violence, but at the same time deformed as after a fight. The proportions seemed wrong. Symmetrical, but swollen. I saw the tattoo on his neck, on the left side facing me, the outline of an animal head. Kåres' tattoo was red, this man's tattoo shimmered in purple. It could’ve been a bruise. A milky haze surrounded them, except for the man’s white sneakers that shined sharp against the gray concrete. It looked like they were living on that thin line between partying and homelessness. I was sure he was dead.
When they’d passed by, a sour smell of adrenaline hovered in the air. I stood there, in my own thoughts, long after I’d missed my train, looking down at my blurry hands, as a whole inner world of sadness and trauma started to open. I wanted to think that I had buried what happened that summer somewhere deep, deep down, where it had been crushed by the weights of new, better memories. But the man with the tattoo dug it all up again. I looked at my own hands and felt I was going into dissociation. Right there and then, I promised myself to write about it.
I met Kåre in the late summer, my first summer without Dad. I lived alone in our apartment on the Red Line towards Norsborg. When I think back to that summer, I see the broken living room clock before me. It stopped working long before when Dad was still alive, but it reminded me that something had stopped in me too.
Summer was happening somewhere out there, slipped in through the cracks in my closed blinds, it felt like time was rushing by without ever touching me. I went out sometimes, sure. To the mall with some friends, to the park or the empty schoolyard. We climbed up the fire escape ladder and carved swear words into the brick wall.
One day in the beginning of August we drove down south, me, Eli and Sindra. I remember how we cranked down the windows and it was claustrophobically hot. Eli put on a playlist called Happy Hardcore. Songs with frequencies as high as the summer sky.
I leaned out the window. Pine trees, red cottages, and wheat fields smeared together by the speed. When I saw the landscape dance past me I remembered Dad’s crosses. He took me out in the woods. Pointed out pits, hills and ditches and said they were graves, fireplaces and traps. Dead shapes, waiting for the right time to wake up.
Dad was a janitor, but he dreamt of becoming an archeologist. He leant scientific books and read them to me like bedtime stories, instructions about how pendulums and squares can be used as instruments to find ancient monuments.
He believed in Earth radiation; the theory that lines make out a checkered pattern around Earth. The past generations knew a lot of things about this radiation. Old amphitheaters and cairns are strategically placed around ethereal force fields. Where the lines cross each other in X:es, a swirling energy arises, whose original purpose was lost a long time ago. Sometimes, when we were out in the woods and came to a particular glade or grove, he’d lift me up and put me down in the middle of one of those crosses. I stood completely still, barely breathing while he measured with a pendulum to see if Earth’s radiation made my aura bigger or smaller. Dad was so proud of my aura.
We stopped at a pizza place. Eli and Sindra had to go get gas, so I went in by myself. When I stood in line for the bathroom, that’s when I saw the horse head. It looked down at me from the wall, with bulging eyes made out of glass. I wondered why they used it as decoration. It looked bizarre and sinister, in every way unbearable.
When the bathroom was available I quickly ran inside and locked the door. I leaned against it, and tried to focus on my breathing, like Dad had taught me. Where the mirror should’ve been, someone had written "horror vacui” with a black marker. ”Fear of the void”.
I washed my wrists with cold water. The water took the uneasy feeling with it in a swirl down the drain. When I felt better I went out to Eli and Sindra, who were already in the car.
We drove on. The evening came. One of those blue, late summer evenings when the light deepens and the air cools down. The road narrowed down. I got nauseous, it felt like we were moving inwards, in a curve. We parked on the road and I looked up at the stars. I pointed out little bear, but they didn’t care. They were trying to locate the music in the woods.
I didn’t really feel like they wanted me there, so I kept my distance. After a while the ground thinned out into sand and the smell of pine trees mixed with sea salt. I saw lights glimmer where the trees opened up to the ocean. Some people were dancing, others were just squeezing through. Eli and Sindra stood further down the beach, next to a fire. They tried to be cool but they looked so tense. I remember how obvious it looked, how they were flickering just like the flames. I turned around and walked into the woods again.
I found a hill that looked good to sit at, and that’s where I met him. Kåre.
I remember the hill was covered in strangely shimmering moss. When I turned around he looked at me with small pupils through the haze. The tattoo on his neck, some kind of animal head, so red I thought it was a wound at first. It looked like a children’s drawing, or back in the day when they used to stuff animals without knowing what they looked like, so they just made something up. I pushed away the memory of the horse head in the restaurant, and instead, I thought about that embroidery, the one in Dad’s office. I was scared of it as a child, I never wanted to go in that room alone. I wondered what had happened to it, did I still have it? Grandma made it for him, isn’t that what he said? I looked at the tattoo again and shivered, it had the same, bulging eyes.
Kåre smiled at me, and I looked down at the hill, speckled with moss. It grew in spirals, I’d never noticed that before, that moss curves, turn after turn, like a swirling paisley pattern. Kåre put something in my hand. It was a green pill, and one side was pressed with a symbol, looking almost like a human gut.
“That’s a trojaborg”, I said surprised. “The symbol, it’s a labyrinth. They actually exist, near the coast, by mountains and the ocean, like here.” I looked up at him.
I used to worry about my high-pitched voice, it sounded like I was always trying to get attention, but now I just sounded rough, like someone else was speaking through me. “Some people think it’s a Christian thing”, I said, “because they think that they put the stones in the middle down first like a cross and then built the paths after that. But it’s not a cross, it’s just an intersection with two lines. The cult surrounding labyrinths is way older than Christianity. We had labyrinths in Scandinavia before, long, long before, when the ocean was like a highway up here…”
Kåre lit two cigarettes and gave me one. I smoked with him and started to feel euphoric. It felt so good to speak without restrictions, to put together things I must’ve heard once, like Dad always did.
“There are labyrinths in marble floors and on wooden doors of old houses. The symbol became a Christian thing, but it was used in old rituals long before that. Sometimes they call it the ‘virgin dance’, and that sounds like a ritual to me. They sacrificed things, too. Think of it as, like, a dance.” I did a little swirl. “Some people think the word trojaborg comes from the word ‘troj’, which means twisting. Rotation. Spinning something around and around and around…”
Kåre dropped his cigarette and stepped on it, leaned down and looked at something metallic. He had a thin mustache that didn’t match his boy-like body. I didn’t know if he was listening, but I kept talking. “Labyrinths exist in every culture, or at least stories about them”, I continued, “they’re a symbol for the uterus and death at the same time, a spiral towards the ethereal.”
I didn’t feel any shame, I just wanted to keep talking.
“Some trojaborg’s are built at places named after bears. Maybe it’s just a coincidence, but bears symbolize resurrection ‘cause they sleep all winter but wake up again in the spring. The Saamis bury dead bears sometimes. The farmers pushed collectors and hunters away but they never stopped sacrificing, they came back. They always do.”
I closed my eyes and leaned against the stone. The woods were full of sounds, music and someone's high-pitched voice. When I opened my eyes I saw a red Bengal light down by the water. I looked at it for a while, before continuing.
“People are superstitious to this day. When fishermen were going out to sea and didn’t want any bad luck, they ran through the trojaborg before they left. When they’d reached the middle they ran straight out, without following the paths. They thought the bad luck would get stuck in there. Absorbed by the force.”
Kåre stroked my arm with his fingertips. I breathed out, felt a tingling warmth in my chest, and I didn’t say anything else for a while.
“What did you say about horse cemeteries?” he asked when the sun was starting to rise, and I saw that what was lying on the ground was small pieces of aluminum foil.
“You mean bear cemeteries?” He nodded.
“They are often found near the trojanborg’s, some think they were built with stones from old ruins. Graves from people that lived by the shore and hunted seals and whales. Those who came here first, and hunted in the moonshine.” I looked up at the stars that were starting to fade.
“The labyrinth was a manifestation of the sun cult and later Christianity, a definitive way to shut them out. But I don’t think…”
“What do you think, then?” He smiled. I didn’t know what to say. I remembered what Dad said. About certain places that generate darkness. Places that make things move around them, wander in cycles. He always told me to watch out for the intersections, the crosses. We’re drawn to them, attracted by the invisible forces, but we have to watch out.
“If you’ve made sacrifices at the same place for over a thousand years, I don’t think you’ll leave it in the first place. It takes a lot... ”
I tried to look Kåre in the eyes, but he was busy picking up foil from the moss-covered rocks and putting it in a zip bag.
“I don’t believe in coincidences”, I said, “maybe there was something, like something in the ground that made people seek those places out... And seek them out over and over again.”
We stood up and walked down the hill, side by side, into the haze of people dancing and screaming.
The sound of laughter, an exaggerated, broken laughter, woke me up. I was lying in the backseat with my throbbing head in Kåre’s lap. He tried to speak over the music, almost screaming, I remember hearing him say something about how he couldn’t stand up straight anymore. Because it was so strong now, so fucking strong.
I couldn’t see Eli or Sindra, the guys sitting in the front seat were complete strangers to me.
The broken laughter-guy interrupted Kåre. “Hahaha! You fucking freak! You fucking hippie!”
The other one, the one driving, asked for coordinates. Kåre answered: “That place has no price. You just gotta have something she wants. You have to deliver.”
“Deliver what? What does it cost?” the other one asked skeptically.
Kåre sighed. “Do you know what ‘the left-hand path’ is?”
A silence, before that repulsive, broken laughter exploded again. “Hahaha! You fucking weirdo! You fucking psycho!”
“Didn’t think you’d know anyways”, Kåre said.
The car stopped at a road barrier and we got out, squinting in the bright sunshine. I’d never met them before, and they both looked much older than me, a few years older than Kåre. We climbed over the barrier and started walking down a path. It seemed to lead us nowhere, until the woods opened up and revealed a red little house. Kåre went around the house to the front door and pulled out a key.
Broken laughter-guy said: “But like, I don’t believe in that kind of stuff! The fucking hocus pocus shit!”
I stepped onto the porch and found myself just standing there, looking at an old dartboard. It reminded me of something. It was speckled with marks from the arrows but also some darker spots, so scuffed you couldn’t make out the lines between the different scores.
My thoughts were interrupted by sounds coming from the other side of the house. It sounded like something falling and breaking, like the deafening sound of iron pipes rolling down concrete stairs and Kåre screamed: “For fucks sake!”
I looked down at the cracks in the wooden deck and fell into a melancholic state. Thoughts of summer evenings here with people that have been dead for many years, or maybe are sitting alone at a retirement home somewhere with nothing but memories left. Fantasies blending in with my own summer memories, and stories my Dad used to tell me. Summers with his Mom, things that might’ve been just dreams, or someone else’s memory, I don’t know whose.
A chair with broken legs was standing in front of the house. I poked at it with my foot, it wobbled a bit, and in a swaying, slowdown of time, I remembered. I was completely sure. I’d been here before.
Kåre had finally managed to open the door. He smiled at me from inside the house, through the window. It was dark in there, but I could see stacks of books and piles of electronic devices, TV:s and stereos. Leaning against the walls and exploding out of the drawers.
Kåre gave something in a Coop bag to the broken laughter-guy and they shared a squarelike hug. I observed them through the window. I could see their lips moving, but I had no idea what they were saying to each other. They looked over at me with a big grin, before they disappeared out of my vision and I could hear the front door opening, and eventually, the car driving off.
I followed Kåre into the woods, down towards the sea. We took our shoes off and ran barefoot through the sand. The sea was quite big, surrounded by compact trees reflecting in the black, shining water. We waded towards a cliff. This was the ocean two thousand years ago, I thought to myself as I climbed the big stone. We took our shirts off and layed down, close to each other.
“It’s really weird”, I said after a while, “I feel like I’ve been here before. On this cliff, and in the house too. I feel like that sometimes, like I should remember something, but I just can’t.” The sunlight was blinding me, I squinted at him. “I was brought up in a way that make you different.”
“Make you different”, he mimicked, but I ignored him.
“It was just me and my Dad, we didn’t have anything else. He never told me anything about his own childhood. He blamed it on his bad memory, but I never believed him. Maybe you inherit it, the pushing things away, the suppression.” I leaned back on the warm stone. “I’ve always felt rootless.”
“Me too”, Kåre mumbled.
“How did you find this place, do you know people here or something?” I tried to seem unbothered, didn't want to dig up something dark in him.
“I leant it from an old lady, she lives in the woods now.”
The heat from the sun beamed at my spine, but I still shivered. He rummaged in his backpack and pulled out a Coca-Cola. I drank so fast I choked, but it didn’t taste of anything at all, just a hint of rust.
“There’s something in the woods I think you’d like to see”, he whispered and stroked my hair.
We stuffed his backpack full of beer and cigarettes. I borrowed a fleece jacket that smelled of gasoline. Kåre had a coat with dark stains all over the chest. When he leaned against the wall and rolled a spliff, as I kneeled in his shadow to tie my shoes, we looked like a bad sign, an omen, two outgrowns on the same darkness. I remember feeling like we were directed towards a swirling hatred.
Kåre kicked rocks as we walked down the road. The sun was still shining bright, coloring the clouds. We reached a field surrounded by small, timbered cottages. It seemed abandoned and forgotten, but as if something was kept awake there.
Kåre and I were the only things visible in the dark windows. I asked him about the old lady he leant the house from. Who was she?
He kicked away a big stone. “Do you really want to know?” he asked.
I thought about it for a while, not really knowing why I wanted to know, or even what I was doing here with Kåre in the first place. But there was something about him, something about the way he distracted me from everything else.
“I usually don’t experience this”, I mumbled, “I usually remember, but when you were in the house and I waited for you on the porch, I just knew I’d been there before. Maybe I’ll remember more if you tell me about her?”
“Sure”, he said, “if you want to remember. She used to slaughter the small animals on the porch. That says a lot about her, I guess. She found it practical. I helped her clean it up afterwards…”
“Wait, what do you mean, slaughter the small animals on the porch? What does that mean?” I tried to look him in the eyes, but he looked away.
“She’d slaughter the big ones by the sea.” The way he said it made it sound neutral, like he couldn’t care less about the animals.
We walked into the woods again, towards the mountains. The dried moss crunched under our feet. It became softer at places, and the ground gave away. Rocks, pine trees and moss repeated themselves in a landscape without landmarks.
When I slipped and fell I found myself just lying on the ground for a while. The woods were still now, and the only thing I heard was a faint rumble from far away, maybe it was the highway that sounded just as lonely as the sea. I closed my eyes, the tiredness made me feel soft. When I tried to stand up again the world flickered before my eyes and I had to lean against a tree.
In my memories, that’s when I heard the scream. It sounded like an animal, or any creature dying a painful death. It made me completely lose my perception of reality. I couldn’t breathe, like after getting punched hard in the stomach and I had to sit down again. When I tried to locate where the sound came from, it disappeared.
I stood up and felt the weight of something hard and cold in my hand, a stone. I must’ve picked it up from the ground, but I couldn’t remember doing so. Shaken by adrenaline, I started running in the direction I saw Kåre disappear in. I caught up with him. He stopped and stood with his back turned towards me.
“Did you hear that?” I looked into the woods. “It sounded like an animal”, I continued. “A big animal… It sounded sick, so fucking sick. You heard it, right?”
I pulled my hand through my hair and crushed a bug that I smeared on my jacket, disgusted by the texture. He didn’t answer. He looked at something, something I couldn’t see. The realization that I was in the middle of nowhere with a crazy stranger suddenly struck me.
“We have to go back. It’s getting dark.” I tried to raise my voice but I sounded like a pathetic little girl.
He didn’t answer, instead, he kneeled down, leaning forward, his hands intertwined behind his neck, rocking back and forth. His ears looked so small. It looked like he was crying, something shiny over his cheeks.
I lightly put my hand on his shoulder and stroked down his arm. He grabbed my wrist, as fast as lightning. I screamed and tried to break free, but tripped and fell backward.
That made him relax. He leaned over me in the dark woods like he was about to say something, but I’ll never know what it was. I struck the stone as hard as I could and hit his temple, a dull sound echoed through the woods. He stumbled back with his hands around his head, and I stood up and started to run.
It felt easy, even though I was running uphill, every step felt irresistible like something was pulling me forward. Soft shadows grew out of the gaps in the rocks, trees and stone blended together. I remember seeing a pine tree that stood bent with its crown growing down towards the earth instead of up towards the sky. A tree that grows like that speaks of something so wrong, something so sick, and twisted out of itself. And I can't say why I continued running in that direction.
I kept on running up until the ground hardened and the woods thinned out. Some light birch trees circled a glade next to an uphill mountain. It was like stepping into a room, separated from the hungry rocks and dark pine trees. The ground was covered with small, yellow flowers, almost shining in the dark.
I started regaining feeling in my legs again. I breathed in hoarse gasps and my eyes flickered in every direction. The direction felt crucial, but at the same time it felt like the choice wasn’t mine, there was something else, something beyond.
I started climbing, in a desperate neither one of them, straight up the cliff. I climbed in small jumps and bent tree roots. The higher I climbed, the more targeted I felt. I tasted blood in my mouth. On the inside of my eyelids I could see Kåre standing down in the glade, picking up stones and throwing them at me. I imagined him grabbing my foot to try and pull me down, tearing at me like an animal. It was only when I’d reached the top of the mountain that I dared to turn around.
Space howered deep blue over the trees. The glade was empty, but down there I thought I could see the shining flowers like small, yellow eyes staring up at me where I stood, swaying on the edge.
I turned around. A cold, bare mountain plateau opened up in front of me. My gaze was immediately drawn to an uneven circle further ahead. It took a while for my eyes to adjust and it started taking form, swirl after swirl, curling like a snake. The trojaborg.
Dad would’ve thought it was magnificent, with stones as big as human heads in the cross towards the center. In the dark, the proportions felt bigger and the paths cleaner than in the ones he’d shown me as a kid. Shadows fell over the entrance. I squinted, it looked like something was laying there.
A rush of dark euphoria made my eyes water and my mouth stretch out in a big smile. I had found it myself, stumbled upon it in the middle of the woods, it had chosen me. I straightened my back and took a couple of steps towards the labyrinth, but when I saw my long shadow I realized how visible I was, standing alone on the big, empty cliff. The rush became fear and I started moving backwards instead, very carefully.
The place radiated a static tension. Just to be there felt wrong, like an act of violence in every step I took. When I reached the edge of the plateau a strong, nauseating smell made me freeze in a violent body memory. We were out in the woods one autumn, me and Dad, when it started to smell just like that, intestines and death, the smell of a ripped animal. We heard dogs barking, I froze in shock and Dad had to carry me back to the car. But now there weren’t any dogs, just the wind.
I looked at the trojaborg. The dark and shapeless shadow in the entrance had grown and now appeared sharper. I slowly moved closer, pulled in against my will. I saw what it was just a few meters away, when it was already too late, too late to back down. It was a horse, or what once was a horse. It still radiated body heat. A bulging eye stared up at the sky.
Dizzy with feelings of dissociation, I just stood there, unable to look away. Its belly was ripped. Intestines spilling out against my white sneakers. A few meters away, in between the trees, something coil-shaped with an unborn’s unfinished features in a coat of mucus and blood. I felt my disgust turning into panic, like when a phobia turns psychotic and violates reality.
I looked down the cliff. If I tried to climb down in the dark, I’d likely break my legs or my neck. I considered following the plateau into the woods on the other side, but I knew I couldn’t go further into the woods. Something or someone out there was capable of ripping a pregnant mare open.
My thoughts were interrupted by a melodic sound, like the echo of distant voices. I crawled backwards up against a rock and imagined a group of people or someone talking to themselves, or maybe calling for a dog. The sound came from the woods on the other side of the cliff. I pressed myself against the rock and crawled into a cave under it. All of my focus was turned towards the trees, I listened out into the silence and tried to make out the sound again. My fear wanted to confirm it, decode it as something with a natural explanation, but every time I thought it would come back I was met by silence. The hope that it could have been voices slowly faded away.
I lied there, frozen for I don’t know how long, just listening to the silence. I started to relax and my thoughts began to wander. I thought of Eli and Sindra, and the life that went on parallel to this. I saw them in front of me, bored, waiting for the night bus or just for something to happen. They had probably forgotten about me, or in which case they wouldn’t miss me.
My legs were numb and tingling. I suddenly couldn’t focus on anything else and decided to try and climb down the cliff after all. I carefully began crawling out of the cave, when I was almost out I heard the sound again, more distinctly this time. I could no longer dismiss it as imagination. Instead, I told myself it must be an animal, some kind of bird, a capercaillie or a grouse. As it came closer, the thoughts of an animal became more and more difficult to visualize. I heard guttural, sharp syllables, long hisses, sounds expressing wills and desires. I stared at the unbroken line of trees as if pure willpower could hold them back. A painful silence followed, as I tried to breath as quietly as possible. My breathing ceased completely when a shadow moved behind the trees and began to crawl over the cliff.
It slowly came closer, a gnarly and skinny figure, something uneven and powerful about its movements told me it could be moving much faster if it stood up straight. At first, I thought it was heading right towards me, but it stopped at the lifeless horse. Paralyzed, I watched as it lifted its head, breathing heavily as if sniffing for something. It turned its head towards me without its body moving, a faint soaring rose in my ears. The moon was shining through a crack in the clouds, and its eyes were reflecting the light - predator eyes, narrow rips of lust.
I pressed my back against the stone until I was shaking. The realization that it was her felt purely physical and had no name. The long hair covered her face in stripes. Mere disgust filled me as she kneeled over the horse's body and pressed herself against the open stomach. She lifted her bloody smile up towards the moon and in a chopping rhythm she began to thrust out what now sounded like a hymn, words with monotone, slashing syllables. Her words grew stronger, it felt like she was singing, like she was calling out for someone. The song reminded me of gale, it came from deep within and carried sorrow, but it wasn’t pure.
I tried to convince myself she couldn’t see me. I pushed as far into the cave as possible and imagined I became part of the stone. But I couldn't shut it out, the sound of steps coming closer, branches breaking. More voices, echoing between the trees out there, answering her. They came from the other side, wandering up the hill, towards the trojaborg, moving out on the stone plateau in a spider-like walk. Sounds and movements in a restrained ecstacy. They looked like mirror reflections of her, her friends, her sisters. They were connected by something more than the song, a coordinated motion. I widened my eyes and stared out into the darkness. Their naked skin gleamed like wax in the moonshine when they stretched their arms out and pulled, pulled on a rope.
At the end of the rope, a shape. I heard the whimpering of a broken vocal cord, the remains of a scream, Kåre’s scream. In an increasing rhythm, they pulled him towards the labyrinth. And with the logic of a nightmare, I suddenly understood what was about to happen, as if I had experienced it before.
They forced him into the horse's body. His voice drowned inside the animal. She laced with something shiny and sharp, an iron wire. Threaded it through the skin and started sewing it together. She trapped him inside the horse's belly. The sound of their song grew louder and louder as Kåre’s voice started to fade. I layed on my stomach with my face against the ground and tried to find the words, when all I could hear was their voices intertwining with something stronger, darker, even more evil than themselves.
I tried to tell myself it wasn’t Kåre, it couldn’t be him buried inside of the horse. I tried to think this wasn't actually happening, but my body was aching and the taste of vomit in my mouth was real. My eyes slowly closed and I faded into a slumber where everything was too late and happened too far away from me. In a way I already knew it when we walked through the woods, it pulled at me, the power beyond us, she wasn’t a stranger. The hymn, we’d sung it. I slowly began to mumble their song, I couldn’t keep it at arm's length anymore.
I was halfway out of my body when the stone started to tremble. A powerful wave as if after a thunder strike came from inside the mountain, drowning their voices in a roar. It suffocated all other sounds from the woods. Their song slowed down and turned into screams as they fled in between the trees, leaving nothing but an echo behind. I was hidden in a cave and over there in the trojaborg inside the horse's body, was Kåre.
Everything went quiet. I thought I’d lost my hearing, that the sound wave had punctured my eardrums. I got up on my elbows and started crawling out of the cave. The second wave was longer and stronger than the first one. It came from deep within the mountain, the vibrations rushed like thunder in my ears, like stone being crushed against stone. I managed to get out at the last moment, if I’d hesitated it would've crushed me.
My last memory of the trojaborg is something I’ve tried to re-evaluate in my head, I’ve tried to make it something else, but the same images always come back to me. I’d crawled to the edge of the cliff and was just about to let go when I turned around. I looked towards the labyrinth, I saw the horse so clearly, it rose on its front legs and opened its eyes.
I let go of the edge and just slipped down, my hands gripping after tree roots and rocks. The moss was wet and slippery but also soft and it catched me when I fell. When I ran through the forest in the darkness it felt like I was shining and pulsating from the fear leaving my body. I finally got to the highway when the sun was starting to rise and followed the road down south, wading through the soaked meadowsweet that grew in the ditches, the smell vapid, stunning me. The sight of a dead fox forced me up on the road. Eventually, a truck stopped and picked me up. I have no other memories of how I got home. I just know I reached my apartment when the sun was starting to set again.
When the door closed behind me and I had locked it, a calmness filled me. For the first time in a couple of days, I was completely alone, out of sight of everyone. Inside the silence I heard familiar sounds, the buzzing of my fridge and someone walking around in the apartment above me. The blinds were down and most of my things were already packed in moving boxes stacked up in the living room.
I felt like hugging myself. I went to the bathroom and kneeled down in the shower. Dirt and moss ran off of me and swirled down the drain. I sat there, long after the water had turned cold.
A shirt in my closet still smelled of Dad. I put it on and layed down in my bed, stared at the ceiling and took in what was left of him. I searched for a pattern but all I saw was the animal head, Kåre’s tattoo flickering in front of me. He must’ve known about the amazing force in the trojaborg, it dazzled him. He’d seen the ritual before, she’d shown him, and invited him. He’d seen the dead rise up from the ground and he wanted to use the force selfishly. I pushed the thoughts of him away and turned my questions inwards. I tried to follow a memory far back, a summer on a train, on my way with Dad. On my way home, that’s how I remembered it, but home where? Home to who? The memory split ways and led nowhere.
I had no doubts that I was Kåre’s intended victim. When we were in the car on our way from the party and I lied with my head in his lap, he said something about left-handed magic. I assumed it was just a superficial hobby, maybe he even knew less than I did.
Deep inside of me, I've always known that life requires sacrifice. Sacrifices turns your desires into actions and push deep into the webs of relations, so deep the chaos has to part ways. But a sacrifice is only a maybe, you abandon all rights to feel remorse. Kåre didn’t understand the basic principle of a sacrifice, that a sacrifice is no longer yours when it involves a strong force. My thoughts moved in spirals and drove me into a shallow sleep.
I woke up cold and sweaty, searching in my memory after someone to tell all this to. Dad's armchair was still standing in front of his desk. I crawled up in it and explored what Dad had left behind. In the top drawer I found his phone book. I started flipping the pages, page up and page down, filled with Dad's handwriting. My gaze lingered on crossed out and circled names.
A couple of pages stuck together as if someone had spilled something on them and I had to carefully pry them open. A photograph fell into my lap. I picked it up with a growing feeling of anxiety. “At mothers. Summer -79” it said on the back. Reluctantly, I turned the photo around.
The house looked newly painted and the chairs had cushions with a floral pattern, and there on the chair under the dart board I sat with my legs dangling, next to grandma. I don’t remember ever meeting her, to me she was nothing more than a story my dad used to tell me. She was sitting in such an unnatural way. Her long hair covering her face, I couldn’t make out if I saw her from behind or from the front, as if the photo had been double-exposed. I think she smiled at the camera.
I stood up from the armchair and rushed out on the balcony. Feeling protected by the darkness, I found myself just standing there for a while, trying to calm my breathing, looking down at the shadows of my backyard. Who took that photo, was it Dad? Had we been there together, with her, at her house? A light turned on in the house opposite to me. I pushed myself against the wall so I wouldn’t be seen.
In the living room stood a moving box filled with Dad's books, neatly packed up to the edge. I was overcome with a sense of abandonment and began tearing out the books. One by one I read the titles before tossing them in a pile on the floor. My outburst didn't last long, pretty soon I collapsed into a powerless fetal position. I continued to go through the last ones at the bottom of the box but it took a long time, I started flipping through the books and got sidetracked. I opened a booklet with the title "The Goddess in the Labyrinth" and looked through the text. Mostly stuff I already knew, words that Dad underlined with a pencil, and nothing about left-handed magic.
The box was empty and I had a hard time keeping my eyes open. I was about to get up when I noticed an old envelope stuck to the side of the box. I picked it up and brought it closer to the light from the window. On the back was our address, the old address. I turned the envelope over, "To my little Jackie, Christmas -81" it said in red ink. I didn’t recognize the handwriting, it wasn’t my father's, even though the envelope and its contents were dedicated to me. I examined it carefully. The envelope was torn open but the contents appeared to be intact. I picked out something that looked like a folded handkerchief. With a faint hum in my ears, I unfolded the fabric until it layed fully spread out on the floor in front of me. It wasn't an embroidery, I remembered it wrong, it was some kind of stitching representing an animal head. I understood why I never dared to enter that room alone, the eyes were bleeding holes. Above it, someone had sewed sharp letters like on a tapestry:
Twist a man swollen sore
Twist him inside animals roar
Twist his heart, twist his lungs
Twist his words in his tounge
Twist a man in his horse
Twist screaming animal force
I will twist the iron wire
Until you tears of blood will cry
I didn't stay in the apartment that night. I moved out that autumn into a collective in Vårberg. I gave Dad’s things to charity. I still wake up from that dream. In the dream I stay, without trying to escape. The mountain rumbles and shakes as if thunder is coming from within it.
I crawl out of my hiding place behind the rock. The darkness does not come from the woods or the night sky, it comes from the trojaborg. Pours out of it in a swirl, counterclockwise, toward the horse's body in the opening. The horse stands up. The darkness beams through it as it throws its head back in a scream. It opens its eyes and the darkness swirls out of them straight at me. I feel the blood crush my veins as Earth slows down and starts spinning in the other direction.

Get A Hug Co (formerly Beddingset Bears) is NOT an honest brand by any means, and I wanted to share my experience with anyone who is considering purchasing from them to know what they’d be signing up for.
I came across GetAHug (GAH) bears on this sub and instantly knew I needed one. Their website did not raise any red flags, they have active presence on social media and elaborate ads; and so my friend and I each placed an order for a bear and a few outfits.
Both orders shipped the next day from China which came to me as a surprise: the website heavily implied that the company was US based, and there was no indication that the orders would ship directly from China via local carrier that sends updates in broken English. As I started digging into this to protect myself from a possible scam, I found myself down a huge plush rabbit hole.
Get A Hug bears turned out to be replicas of TeddyTales LinaBears created by a Russian artist who coincidentally lives in China. GAH bears, down to their coat color selection and most outfits, are identical to the LinaBears. It seems like although TeddyTales operates internationally, their main fan base is in Russia, while GAH’s aggressive marketing and lower prices earned them more recognition in the US/international space.
(In fact, GAH is so convincing that for a hot second I had assumed that TeddyTales was just another distributor of otherwise mass produced teddy bears. I even suspected that the story about a Russian artist was just a “front” which of course was not true.)
In addition to the deceptive marketing, GAH’s shady selling practices go even further. Firstly, these exact bears, along with the outfits, are all over AliExpress at a much lower price point than on the GAH website. (UPD from comments: apparently AE used to sell these bears for even cheaper, $12 vs $35+!) At this time I cannot tell whether they come from the same factory as GAH and therefore have the same quality (I’m almost tempted to order something cheap and see if it ships from the same place). GAH also employed the same tactic as a lot of bootleggers from China: they registered a copyright in the US (note how they blurred out “China” everywhere!), potentially preventing other manufacturers, including the original artist, from “replicating” their goods. All this effort while ghosting their customers and never shipping orders, according to countless Instagram comments.
Against all odds, my friend and I received our orders within a week. Both bears came with a “love letter” which was an exact copy and paste of the one TeddyTales sends to their customers. The quality of the bears and outfits varied greatly: as you would expect from bootlegs, it’s a lottery.
My friend and I’s bears have very different faces: hers looks “skinnier” with noticeably uneven eyes, while mine looks much closer to the promo pictures. Aside from that, both bears are crafted surprisingly well: they are soft, sturdy, and sewn together very neatly.
The outfits were not so consistent. My friend's green dinosaur costume was satisfactory. I, on the other hand, didn’t get as lucky. The sheep outfit, while looks as pictured, is of absolutely horrendous quality. Materials are garbage, the fabric and stitches are uneven. It's not plush and cuddly but thin and filmsy. The nightie pajamas, in their turn, are slightly better made though the sizing is a bit off.
I do not believe that GAH bears are entirely handmade like the company claims them to be. Judging by the vast difference in quality between the bears and the clothes, I think the bears are factory made with some details, like eye placement, applied by hand, while the clothes are somewhat handmade – though, I'm afraid, by someone who is neither experienced nor particularly enthused to make them.
If you decide to make a purchase from Get A Hug, you may get your bear and perhaps even quickly, but you will not be purchasing an original design and will gamble on the quality. At very least, the bears are NOT worth the ~$40 price. I encourage you to reconsider buying from them and opt for the original or similar independent brands.
As for me, if I’d known I would not have bought from GAH. But now that I have, despite the guilt I try to think that this isn’t the bear’s fault, and I’m very lucky to have received it at all; so I am going to love him and cuddle him while exercising even more caution about my online purchases. I hope to make a purchase from TeddyTales soon enough.

Silk Ruffle in a saree that is in sewing and dressmaking , a ruffle , frill, or furbelow is a strip of fabric , lace or ribbon tightly gathered or pleated on one edge and applied to a garment , bedding , or other textile as a form of trimming.
Silk Ruffled Saree is the beautiful modern georgette ruffle saree in many color paired with a hand embroidered designer blouse and matching embroidered belt as shown !! Perfect and stands out in any occasion!!
There are many best saree color combinations are :

1. Lavender with Dark Green. ...
2. Copper with Royal Blue. ...
3. Burgundy with Rose. ...
4. Peacock Blue with Pink. ...
5. Pastel Grey with Gold. ...
6. Bright Yellow with Silver. ...
7. Pastel Lavender with Zodiac Blue. ...
8. Dark Purple with Light Olive Green.

Specification
Name : Silk Ruffled Saree with Stitched Blouse
Size : S US women’s letter

 M US women’s letter L US women’s letter XL US women’s letter 

Categorie : women

He suddenly came towards me in the dirty tunnel that leads to the subway, up the stairs from the mall, dressed in Adidas and a puffy duvet jacket. His breath steamed in the cold. A woman stumbled next to him, in broken high heels. They looked like they were in a hurry, to get away from someone or something. Destroyed faces, but not because of age or starvation, they looked young and healthy.
He should’ve been at least twenty years older now, I told myself it couldn’t be him and looked away without knowing if the man had seen me or not.
His face, as I remember it, spoke of his past addictions. No traces of serious violence, but at the same time deformed as after a fight. The proportions seemed wrong. Symmetrical, but swollen. I saw the tattoo on his neck, on the left side facing me, the outline of an animal head. Kåres' tattoo was red, this man's tattoo shimmered in purple. It could’ve been a bruise. A milky haze surrounded them, except for the man’s white sneakers that shined sharp against the gray concrete. It looked like they were living on that thin line between partying and homelessness. I was sure he was dead.
When they’d passed by, a sour smell of adrenaline hovered in the air. I stood there, in my own thoughts, long after I’d missed my train, looking down at my blurry hands, as a whole inner world of sadness and trauma started to open. I wanted to think that I had buried what happened that summer somewhere deep, deep down, where it had been crushed by the weights of new, better memories. But the man with the tattoo dug it all up again. I looked at my own hands and felt I was going into dissociation. Right there and then, I promised myself to write about it.
I met Kåre in the late summer, my first summer without Dad. I lived alone in our apartment on the Red Line towards Norsborg. When I think back to that summer, I see the broken living room clock before me. It stopped working long before when Dad was still alive, but it reminded me that something had stopped in me too.
Summer was happening somewhere out there, slipped in through the cracks in my closed blinds, it felt like time was rushing by without ever touching me. I went out sometimes, sure. To the mall with some friends, to the park or the empty schoolyard. We climbed up the fire escape ladder and carved swear words into the brick wall.
One day in the beginning of August we drove down south, me, Eli and Sindra. I remember how we cranked down the windows and it was claustrophobically hot. Eli put on a playlist called Happy Hardcore. Songs with frequencies as high as the summer sky.
I leaned out the window. Pine trees, red cottages, and wheat fields smeared together by the speed. When I saw the landscape dance past me I remembered Dad’s crosses. He took me out in the woods. Pointed out pits, hills and ditches and said they were graves, fireplaces and traps. Dead shapes, waiting for the right time to wake up.
Dad was a janitor, but he dreamt of becoming an archeologist. He leant scientific books and read them to me like bedtime stories, instructions about how pendulums and squares can be used as instruments to find ancient monuments.
He believed in earth radiation; the theory that lines make out a checkered pattern around Earth. The past generations knew a lot of things about this radiation. Old amphitheaters and cairns are strategically placed around ethereal force fields. Where the lines cross each other in X:es, a swirling energy arises, whose original purpose was lost a long time ago. Sometimes, when we were out in the woods and came to a particular glade or grove, he’d lift me up and put me down in the middle of one of those crosses. I stood completely still, barely breathing while he measured with a pendulum to see if the earth’s radiation made my aura bigger or smaller. Dad was so proud of my aura.
I reached out the window and felt the shape of my hand in the wind.
We stopped at a pizza place. Eli and Sindra had to go get gas, so I went in by myself. When I stood in line for the bathroom, that’s when I saw the horse head. It looked down at me from the wall, with bulging eyes made out of glass. I wondered why they used it as decoration. It looked bizarre and sinister, in every way unbearable.
When the bathroom was available I quickly ran inside and locked the door. I leaned against it, and tried to focus on my breathing, like Dad had taught me. Where the mirror should’ve been, someone had written "horror vacui” with a black marker. ”Fear of the void”.
I washed my wrists with cold water. The water took the uneasy feeling with it in a swirl down the drain. When I felt better I went out to Eli and Sindra, who were already in the car.
We drove on. The evening came. One of those blue, late summer evenings when the light deepens and the air cools down. The road narrowed down. I got nauseous, it felt like we were moving inwards, in a curve. We parked on the road and I looked up at the stars. I pointed out little bear, but they didn’t care. They were trying to locate the music in the woods. I didn’t really feel like they wanted me there, so I kept my distance. After a while the ground thinned out into sand and the smell of pine trees mixed with sea salt. I saw lights glimmer where the trees opened up to the ocean. Some people were dancing, others were just squeezing through. Eli and Sindra stood further down the beach, next to a fire. They tried to be cool but they looked so tense. I remember how obvious it looked, how they were flickering just like the flames. I turned around and walked into the woods again.
I found a hill that looked good to sit at, and that’s where I met him. Kåre.
I remember the hill was covered in strangely shimmering moss. When I turned around he looked at me with small pupils through the haze. The tattoo on his neck, some kind of animal head, so red I thought it was a wound at first. It looked like a children’s drawing, or back in the day when they used to stuff animals without knowing what they looked like, so they just made something up. I pushed away the memory of the horse head in the restaurant, and instead, I thought about that embroidery, the one in Dad’s office. I was scared of it as a child, I never wanted to go in that room alone. I wondered what had happened to it, did I still have it? Grandma made it for him, isn’t that what he said? I looked at the tattoo again and shivered, it had the same, bulging eyes.
Kåre smiled at me, and I looked down at the hill, speckled with moss. It grew in spirals, I’d never noticed that before, that moss curves, turn after turn, like a swirling paisley pattern. Kåre put something in my hand. It was a green pill, and one side was pressed with a symbol, looking almost like a human gut.
“That’s a trojaborg”, I said surprised. “The symbol, it’s a labyrinth. They actually exist, near the coast, by mountains and the ocean, like here.” I looked up at him.
I used to worry about my high-pitched voice, it sounded like I was always trying to get attention, but now I just sounded rough, like someone else was speaking through me. “Some people think it’s a Christian thing”, I said, “because they think that they put the stones in the middle down first like a cross and then built the paths after that. But it’s not a cross, it’s just an intersection with two lines. The cult surrounding labyrinths is way older than Christianity. We had labyrinths in Scandinavia before, long, long before, when the ocean was like a highway up here…”
Kåre lit two cigarettes and gave me one. I smoked with him and started to feel euphoric. It felt so good to speak without restrictions, to put together things I must’ve heard once, like Dad always did.
“There are labyrinths in marble floors and on wooden doors of old houses. The symbol became a Christian thing, but it was used in old rituals long before that. Sometimes they call it the ‘virgin dance’, and that sounds like a ritual to me. They sacrificed things, too. Think of it as, like, a dance.” I did a little swirl. “Some people think the word trojaborg comes from the word ‘troj’, which means twisting. Rotation. Spinning something around and around and around…”
Kåre dropped his cigarette and stepped on it, leaned down and looked at something metallic. He had a thin mustache that didn’t match his boy-like body. I didn’t know if he was listening, but I kept talking. “Labyrinths exist in every culture, or at least stories about them”, I continued, “they’re a symbol for the uterus and death at the same time, a spiral towards the ethereal.”
I didn’t feel any shame, I just wanted to keep talking.
“Some trojaborg’s are built at places named after bears. Maybe it’s just a coincidence, but bears symbolize resurrection ‘cause they sleep all winter but wake up again in the spring. The Saamis bury dead bears sometimes. The farmers pushed the collectors and hunters away but they never stopped sacrificing, they came back. They always do.”
I closed my eyes and leaned against the stone. The woods were full of sounds, music and someone's high-pitched, rough voice. When I opened my eyes I saw a red Bengal light down by the water. I looked at it for a while, before continuing.
“People are still superstitious, to this day. When fishermen were going out to sea and didn’t want any bad luck, they ran through the trojaborg before they left. When they’d reached the middle they ran straight out, without following the paths. They thought the bad luck would get stuck in there. Absorbed by the force.”
Kåre stroked my arm with his fingertips. I breathed out, felt a tingling warmth in my chest, and I didn’t say anything else for a while.
“What did you say about horse cemeteries?” he asked when the sun was starting to rise, and I saw that what was lying on the ground was small pieces of aluminum foil.
“You mean bear cemeteries?” He nodded.
“They are often found near the trojanborg’s, some think they were built with stones from old ruins. Graves from people that lived by the shore and hunted seals and whales. Those who came here first, and hunted in the moonshine.” I looked up at the stars that were starting to fade.
“The labyrinth was a manifestation of the sun cult and later Christianity, a definitive way to shut them out. But I don’t think…”
“What do you think, then?” He smiled. I didn’t know what to say. I remembered what Dad said. About certain places that generate darkness. Places that make things move around them, wander in cycles. He always told me to watch out for the intersections, the crosses. We’re drawn to them, attracted by the invisible forces, but we have to watch out.
“If you’ve made sacrifices at the same place for over a thousand years, I don’t think you’ll leave it in the first place. It takes a lot... ”
I tried to look Kåre in the eyes, but he was busy picking up foil from the moss-covered rocks and putting it in a zip bag.
“I don’t believe in coincidences”, I said, “maybe there was something, like something in the ground that made people seek those places out... And seek them out over and over again.”
We stood up and walked down the hill, side by side, into the haze of people dancing and screaming.
The sound of laughter, an exaggerated, broken laughter, woke me up. I was lying in the backseat with my throbbing head in Kåre’s lap. He tried to speak over the music, almost screaming, I remember hearing him say something about how he couldn’t stand up straight anymore. Because it was so strong now, so fucking strong.
I couldn’t see Eli or Sindra, the guys sitting in the front seat were complete strangers to me.
The broken laughter-guy interrupted Kåre. “Hahaha! You fucking freak! You fucking hippie!”
The other one, the one driving, asked for coordinates. Kåre answered: “That place has no price. You just gotta have something she wants. You have to deliver.”
“Deliver what? What does it cost?” the other one asked skeptically.
Kåre sighed. “Do you know what ‘the left-hand path’ is?”
A silence, before that repulsive, broken laughter exploded again. “Hahaha! You fucking weirdo! You fucking psycho!”
“Didn’t think you’d know anyways”, Kåre said.
The car stopped at a road barrier and we got out, squinting in the bright sunshine. I’d never met them before, and they both looked much older than me, a few years older than Kåre. We climbed over the barrier and started walking down a path. It seemed to lead us nowhere, until the woods opened up and revealed a red little house. Kåre went around the house to the front door and pulled out a key.
Broken laughter-guy said: “But like, I don’t believe in that kind of stuff! The fucking hocus pocus shit!”
I stepped onto the porch and found myself just standing there, looking at an old dartboard. It reminded me of something. It was speckled with marks from the arrows but also some darker spots, so scuffed you couldn’t make out the lines between the different scores.
My thoughts were interrupted by sounds coming from the other side of the house. It sounded like something falling and breaking, like the deafening sound of iron pipes rolling down concrete stairs and Kåre screamed: “For fucks sake!”
I looked down at the cracks in the wooden deck and fell into a melancholic state. Thoughts of summer evenings here with people that have been dead for many years, or maybe are sitting alone at a retirement home somewhere with nothing but memories left. Fantasies blending in with my own summer memories, and stories my Dad used to tell me. Summers with his Mom, things that might’ve been just dreams, or someone else’s memory, I don’t know whose.
A chair with broken legs was standing in front of the house. I poked at it with my foot, it wobbled a bit, and in a swaying, slowdown of time, I remembered. I was completely sure. I’d been here before.
Kåre had finally managed to open the door. He smiled at me from inside the house, through the window. It was dark in there, but I could see stacks of books and piles of electronic devices, TV:s and stereos. Leaning against the walls and exploding out of the drawers.
Kåre gave something in a Coop bag to the broken laughter-guy and they shared a squarelike hug. I observed them through the window. I could see their lips moving, but I had no idea what they were saying to each other. They looked over at me with a big grin, before they disappeared out of my vision and I could hear the front door opening, and eventually, the car driving off.
I followed Kåre into the woods, down towards the sea. We took our shoes off and ran barefoot through the sand. The sea was quite big, surrounded by compact trees reflecting in the black, shining water. We waded towards a cliff. This was the ocean two thousand years ago, I thought to myself as I climbed the big stone. We took our shirts off and layed down, close to each other.
“It’s really weird”, I said after a while, “I feel like I’ve been here before. On this cliff, and in the house too. I feel like that sometimes, like I should remember something, but I just can’t.” The sunlight was blinding me, I squinted at him. “I was brought up in a way that make you different.”
“Make you different”, he mimicked, but I ignored him.
“It was just me and my Dad, we didn’t have anything else. He never told me anything about his own childhood. He blamed it on his bad memory, but I never believed him. Maybe you inherit it, the pushing things away, the suppression.” I leaned back on the warm stone. “I’ve always felt rootless.”
“Me too”, Kåre mumbled.
“How did you find this place, do you know people here or something?” I tried to seem unbothered, didn't want to dig up something dark in him.
“I leant it from an old lady, she lives in the woods now.”
The heat from the sun beamed at my spine, but I still shivered. He rummaged in his backpack and pulled out a Coca-Cola. I drank so fast I choked, but it didn’t taste of anything at all, just a hint of rust.
“There’s something in the woods I think you’d like to see”, he whispered and stroked my hair.
We stuffed his backpack full of beer and cigarettes. I borrowed a fleece jacket that smelled of gasoline. Kåre had a coat with dark stains all over the chest. When he leaned against the wall and rolled a spliff, as I kneeled in his shadow to tie my shoes, we looked like a bad sign, an omen, two outgrowns on the same darkness. I remember feeling like we were directed towards a swirling hatred.
Kåre kicked rocks as we walked down the road. The sun was still shining bright, coloring the clouds. We reached a field surrounded by small, timbered cottages. It seemed abandoned and forgotten, but as if something was kept awake there.
Kåre and I were the only things visible in the dark windows. I asked him about the old lady he leant the house from. Who was she?
He kicked away a big stone. “Do you really want to know?” he asked.
I thought about it for a while, not really knowing why I wanted to know, or even what I was doing here with Kåre in the first place. But there was something about him, something about the way he distracted me from everything else.
“I usually don’t experience this”, I mumbled, “I usually remember, but when you were in the house and I waited for you on the porch, I just knew I’d been there before. Maybe I’ll remember more if you tell me about her?”
“Sure”, he said, “if you want to remember. She used to slaughter the small animals on the porch. That says a lot about her, I guess. She found it practical. I helped her clean it up afterwards…”
“Wait, what do you mean, slaughter the small animals on the porch? What does that mean?” I tried to look him in the eyes, but he looked away.
“She’d slaughter the big ones by the sea.” The way he said it made it sound neutral, like he couldn’t care less about the animals.
We walked into the woods again, towards the mountains. The dried moss crunched under our feet. It became softer at places, and the ground gave away. Rocks, pine trees and moss repeated themselves in a landscape without landmarks.
When I slipped and fell I found myself just lying on the ground for a while. The woods were still now, and the only thing I heard was a faint rumble from far away, maybe it was the highway that sounded just as lonely as the sea. I closed my eyes, the tiredness made me feel soft. When I tried to stand up again the world flickered before my eyes and I had to lean against a tree.
In my memories, that’s when I heard the scream. It sounded like an animal, or any creature dying a painful death. It made me completely lose my perception of reality. I couldn’t breathe, like after getting punched hard in the stomach and I had to sit down again. When I tried to locate where the sound came from, it disappeared.
I stood up and felt the weight of something hard and cold in my hand, a stone. I must’ve picked it up from the ground, but I couldn’t remember doing so. Shaken by adrenaline, I started running in the direction I saw Kåre disappear in. I caught up with him. He stopped and stood with his back turned towards me.
“Did you hear that?” I looked into the woods. “It sounded like an animal”, I continued. “A big animal… It sounded sick, so fucking sick. You heard it, right?”
I pulled my hand through my hair and crushed a bug that I smeared on my jacket, disgusted by the texture. He didn’t answer. He looked at something, something I couldn’t see. The realization that I was in the middle of nowhere with a crazy stranger suddenly struck me.
“We have to go back. It’s getting dark.” I tried to raise my voice but I sounded like a pathetic little girl.
He didn’t answer, instead, he kneeled down, leaning forward, his hands intertwined behind his neck, rocking back and forth. His ears looked so small. It looked like he was crying, something shiny over his cheeks.
I lightly put my hand on his shoulder and stroked down his arm. He grabbed my wrist, as fast as lightning. I screamed and tried to break free, but tripped and fell backward.
That made him relax. He leaned over me in the dark woods like he was about to say something, but I’ll never know what it was. I struck the stone as hard as I could and hit his temple, a dull sound echoed through the woods. He stumbled back with his hands around his head, and I stood up and started to run.
It felt easy, even though I was running uphill, every step felt irresistible like something was pulling me forward. Soft shadows grew out of the gaps in the rocks, trees and stone blended together. I remember seeing a pine tree that stood bent with its crown growing down towards the earth instead of up towards the sky. A tree that grows like that speaks of something so wrong, something so sick, and twisted out of itself. And I can't say why I continued running in that direction.
I kept on running up until the ground hardened and the woods thinned out. Some light birch trees circled a glade next to an uphill mountain. It was like stepping into a room, separated from the hungry rocks and dark pine trees. The ground was covered with small, yellow flowers, almost shining in the dark.
I started regaining feeling in my legs again. I breathed in hoarse gasps and my eyes flickered in every direction. The direction felt crucial, but at the same time it felt like the choice wasn’t mine, there was something else, something beyond.
I started climbing, in a desperate neither one of them, straight up the cliff. I climbed in small jumps and bent tree roots. The higher I climbed, the more targeted I felt. I tasted blood in my mouth. On the inside of my eyelids I could see Kåre standing down in the glade, picking up stones and throwing them at me. I imagined him grabbing my foot to try and pull me down, tearing at me like an animal. It was only when I’d reached the top of the mountain that I dared to turn around.
Space howered deep blue over the trees. The glade was empty, but down there I thought I could see the shining flowers like small, yellow eyes staring up at me where I stood, swaying on the edge.
I turned around. A cold, bare mountain plateau opened up in front of me. My gaze was immediately drawn to an uneven circle further ahead. It took a while for my eyes to adjust and it started taking form, swirl after swirl, curling like a snake. The trojaborg.
Dad would’ve thought it was magnificent, with stones as big as human heads in the cross towards the center. In the dark, the proportions felt bigger and the paths cleaner than in the ones he’d shown me as a kid. Shadows fell over the entrance. I squinted, it looked like something was laying there.
A rush of dark euphoria made my eyes water and my mouth stretch out in a big smile. I had found it myself, stumbled upon it in the middle of the woods, it had chosen me. I straightened my back and took a couple of steps towards the labyrinth, but when I saw my long shadow I realized how visible I was, standing alone on the big, empty cliff. The rush became fear and I started moving backwards instead, very carefully.
The place radiated a static tension. Just to be there felt wrong, like an act of violence in every step I took. When I reached the edge of the plateau a strong, nauseating smell made me freeze in a violent body memory. We were out in the woods one autumn, me and Dad, when it started to smell just like that, intestines and death, the smell of a ripped animal. We heard dogs barking, I froze in shock and Dad had to carry me back to the car. But now there weren’t any dogs, just the wind.
I looked at the trojaborg. The dark and shapeless shadow in the entrance had grown and now appeared sharper. I slowly moved closer, pulled in against my will. I saw what it was just a few meters away, when it was already too late, too late to back down. It was a horse, or what once was a horse. It still radiated body heat. A bulging eye stared up at the sky.
Dizzy with feelings of dissociation, I just stood there, unable to look away. Its belly was ripped. Intestines spilling out against my white sneakers. A few meters away, in between the trees, something coil-shaped with an unborn’s unfinished features in a coat of mucus and blood. I felt my disgust turning into panic, like when a phobia turns psychotic and violates reality.
I looked down the cliff. If I tried to climb down in the dark, I’d likely break my legs or my neck. I considered following the plateau into the woods on the other side, but I knew I couldn’t go further into the woods. Something or someone out there was capable of ripping a pregnant mare open.
My thoughts were interrupted by a melodic sound, like the echo of distant voices. I crawled backwards up against a rock and imagined a group of people or someone talking to themselves, or maybe calling for a dog. The sound came from the woods on the other side of the cliff. I pressed myself against the rock and crawled into a cave under it. All of my focus was turned towards the trees, I listened out into the silence and tried to make out the sound again. My fear wanted to confirm it, decode it as something with a natural explanation, but every time I thought it would come back I was met by silence. The hope that it could have been voices slowly faded away.
I lied there, frozen for I don’t know how long, just listening to the silence. I started to relax and my thoughts began to wander. I thought of Eli and Sindra, and the life that went on parallel to this. I saw them in front of me, bored, waiting for the night bus or just for something to happen. They had probably forgotten about me, or in which case they wouldn’t miss me.
My legs were numb and tingling. I suddenly couldn’t focus on anything else and decided to try and climb down the cliff after all. I carefully began crawling out of the cave, when I was almost out I heard the sound again, more distinctly this time. I could no longer dismiss it as imagination. Instead, I told myself it must be an animal, some kind of bird, a capercaillie or a grouse. As it came closer, the thoughts of an animal became more and more difficult to visualize. I heard guttural, sharp syllables, long hisses, sounds expressing wills and desires. I stared at the unbroken line of trees as if pure willpower could hold them back. A painful silence followed, as I tried to breath as quietly as possible. My breathing ceased completely when a shadow moved behind the trees and began to crawl over the cliff.
It slowly came closer, a gnarly and skinny figure, something uneven and powerful about its movements told me it could be moving much faster if it stood up straight. At first, I thought it was heading right towards me, but it stopped at the lifeless horse. Paralyzed, I watched as it lifted its head, breathing heavily as if sniffing for something. It turned its head towards me without its body moving, a faint soaring rose in my ears. The moon was shining through a crack in the clouds, and its eyes were reflecting the light - predator eyes, narrow rips of lust.
I pressed my back against the stone until I was shaking. The realization that it was her felt purely physical and had no name. The long hair covered her face in stripes. Mere disgust filled me as she kneeled over the horse's body and pressed herself against the open stomach. She lifted her bloody smile up towards the moon and in a chopping rhythm she began to thrust out what now sounded like a hymn, words with monotone, slashing syllables. Her words grew stronger, it felt like she was singing, like she was calling out for someone. The song reminded me of gale, it came from deep within and carried sorrow, but it wasn’t pure.
I tried to convince myself she couldn’t see me. I pushed as far into the cave as possible and imagined I became part of the stone. But I couldn't shut it out, the sound of steps coming closer, branches breaking. More voices, echoing between the trees out there, answering her. They came from the other side, wandering up the hill, towards the trojaborg, moving out on the stone plateau in a spider-like walk. Sounds and movements in a restrained ecstacy. They looked like mirror reflections of her, her friends, her sisters. They were connected by something more than the song, a coordinated motion. I widened my eyes and stared out into the darkness. Their naked skin gleamed like wax in the moonshine when they stretched their arms out and pulled, pulled on a rope.
At the end of the rope, a shape. I heard the whimpering of a broken vocal cord, the remains of a scream, Kåre’s scream. In an increasing rhythm, they pulled him towards the labyrinth. And with the logic of a nightmare, I suddenly understood what was about to happen, as if I had experienced it before.
They forced him into the horse's body. His voice drowned inside the animal. She laced with something shiny and sharp, an iron wire. Threaded it through the skin and started sewing it together. She trapped him inside the horse's belly. The sound of their song grew louder and louder as Kåre’s voice started to fade. I layed on my stomach with my face against the ground and tried to find the words, when all I could hear was their voices intertwining with something stronger, darker, even more evil than themselves.
I tried to tell myself it wasn’t Kåre, it couldn’t be him buried inside of the horse. I tried to think this wasn't actually happening, but my body was aching and the taste of vomit in my mouth was real. My eyes slowly closed and I faded into a slumber where everything was too late and happened too far away from me. In a way I already knew it when we walked through the woods, it pulled at me, the power beyond us, she wasn’t a stranger. The hymn, we’d sung it. I slowly began to mumble their song, I couldn’t keep it at arm's length anymore.
I was halfway out of my body when the stone started to tremble. A powerful wave as if after a thunder strike came from inside the mountain, drowning their voices in a roar. It suffocated all other sounds from the woods. Their song slowed down and turned into screams as they fled in between the trees, leaving nothing but an echo behind. I was hidden in a cave and over there in the trojaborg inside the horse's body, was Kåre.
Everything went quiet. I thought I’d lost my hearing, that the sound wave had punctured my eardrums. I got up on my elbows and started crawling out of the cave. The second wave was longer and stronger than the first one. It came from deep within the mountain, the vibrations rushed like thunder in my ears, like stone being crushed against stone. I managed to get out at the last moment, if I’d hesitated it would've crushed me.
My last memory of the trojaborg is something I’ve tried to re-evaluate in my head, I’ve tried to make it something else, but the same images always come back to me. I’d crawled to the edge of the cliff and was just about to let go when I turned around. I looked towards the labyrinth, I saw the horse so clearly, it rose on its front legs and opened its eyes.
I let go of the edge and just slipped down, my hands gripping after tree roots and rocks. The moss was wet and slippery but also soft and it catched me when I fell. When I ran through the forest in the darkness it felt like I was shining and pulsating from the fear leaving my body. I finally got to the highway when the sun was starting to rise and followed the road down south, wading through the soaked meadowsweet that grew in the ditches, the smell vapid, stunning me. The sight of a dead fox forced me up on the road. Eventually, a truck stopped and picked me up. I have no other memories of how I got home. I just know I reached my apartment when the sun was starting to set again.
When the door closed behind me and I had locked it, a calmness filled me. For the first time in a couple of days, I was completely alone, out of sight of everyone. Inside the silence I heard familiar sounds, the buzzing of my fridge and someone walking around in the apartment above me. The blinds were down and most of my things were already packed in moving boxes stacked up in the living room.
I felt like hugging myself. I went to the bathroom and kneeled down in the shower. Dirt and moss ran off of me and swirled down the drain. I sat there, long after the water had turned cold.
A shirt in my closet still smelled of Dad. I put it on and layed down in my bed, stared at the ceiling and took in what was left of him. I searched for a pattern but all I saw was the animal head, Kåre’s tattoo flickering in front of me. He must’ve known about the amazing force in the trojaborg, it dazzled him. He’d seen the ritual before, she’d shown him, and invited him. He’d seen the dead rise up from the ground and he wanted to use the force selfishly. I pushed the thoughts of him away and turned my questions inwards. I tried to follow a memory far back, a summer on a train, on my way with Dad. On my way home, that’s how I remembered it, but home where? Home to who? The memory split ways and led nowhere.
I had no doubts that I was Kåre’s intended victim. When we were in the car on our way from the party and I lied with my head in his lap, he said something about left-handed magic. I assumed it was just a superficial hobby, maybe he even knew less than I did.
Deep inside of me, I've always known that life requires sacrifice. Sacrifices turns your desires into actions and push deep into the webs of relations, so deep the chaos has to part ways. But a sacrifice is only a maybe, you abandon all rights to feel remorse. Kåre didn’t understand the basic principle of a sacrifice, that a sacrifice is no longer yours when it involves a strong force. My thoughts moved in spirals and drove me into a shallow sleep.
I woke up cold and sweaty, searching in my memory after someone to tell all this to. Dad's armchair was still standing in front of his desk. I crawled up in it and explored what Dad had left behind. In the top drawer I found his phone book. I started flipping the pages, page up and page down, filled with Dad's handwriting. My gaze lingered on crossed out and circled names.
A couple of pages stuck together as if someone had spilled something on them and I had to carefully pry them open. A photograph fell into my lap. I picked it up with a growing feeling of anxiety. “At mothers. Summer -79” it said on the back. Reluctantly, I turned the photo around.
The house looked newly painted and the chairs had cushions with a floral pattern, and there on the chair under the dart board I sat with my legs dangling, next to grandma. I don’t remember ever meeting her, to me she was nothing more than a story my dad used to tell me. She was sitting in such an unnatural way. Her long hair covering her face, I couldn’t make out if I saw her from behind or from the front, as if the photo had been double-exposed. I think she smiled at the camera.
I stood up from the armchair and rushed out on the balcony. Feeling protected by the darkness, I found myself just standing there for a while, trying to calm my breathing, looking down at the shadows of my backyard. Who took that photo, was it Dad? Had we been there together, with her, at her house? A light turned on in the house opposite to me. I pushed myself against the wall so I wouldn’t be seen.
In the living room stood a moving box filled with Dad's books, neatly packed up to the edge. I was overcome with a sense of abandonment and began tearing out the books. One by one I read the titles before tossing them in a pile on the floor. My outburst didn't last long, pretty soon I collapsed into a powerless fetal position. I continued to go through the last ones at the bottom of the box but it took a long time, I started flipping through the books and got sidetracked. I opened a booklet with the title "The Goddess in the Labyrinth" and looked through the text. Mostly stuff I already knew, words that Dad underlined with a pencil, and nothing about left-handed magic.
The box was empty and I had a hard time keeping my eyes open. I was about to get up when I noticed an old envelope stuck to the side of the box. I picked it up and brought it closer to the light from the window. On the back was our address, the old address. I turned the envelope over, "To my little Jackie, Christmas -81" it said in red ink. I didn’t recognize the handwriting, it wasn’t my father's, even though the envelope and its contents were dedicated to me. I examined it carefully. The envelope was torn open but the contents appeared to be intact. I picked out something that looked like a folded handkerchief. With a faint hum in my ears, I unfolded the fabric until it layed fully spread out on the floor in front of me. It wasn't an embroidery, I remembered it wrong, it was some kind of stitching representing an animal head. I understood why I never dared to enter that room alone, the eyes were bleeding holes. Above it, someone had sewed sharp letters like on a tapestry:
Twist a man swollen sore
Twist him with animals roar
Twist his heart, twist his lungs
Twist his words in his tounge
Twist a man in his horse
Twist screaming animal force
I will twist the iron wire
Until you tears of blood cry
I didn't stay in the apartment that night. I moved out that autumn and moved into a collective in Vårberg. I gave my Dad’s things to charity. I still wake up from that dream. In the dream I stay, without trying to escape. The mountain rumbles and shakes as if thunder is coming from within it.
I crawl out of my hiding place behind the rock. The darkness does not come from the woods or the night sky, it comes from the trojaborg. Pours out of it in a swirl, counterclockwise, toward the horse's body in the opening. The horse stands up. The darkness beams through it as it throws its head back in a scream. It opens its eyes and the darkness swirls out of them straight at me. I feel the blood crush my veins as the earth stops and starts spinning in the other direction.

Ok. EngIish company; I've been working there 2+ years. The first year was great, then my colleague moved on. Two replacements were tried; one internal who lasted three months, one from outside who had issues and walked out. My manager has several roles and a lot of the time I was saddled with an excessive workload. Finally two people were added to the department as the workload had massively increased. It was pretty well known that I'm ND and work best with a routine. I always arrive around half an hour early and sit in the car because I have a hatred of being late. Relocation of the department to a different location was sprung on me with a weeks notice which freaked me out; I did agree to visit the proposed location and planned a route. That was on a Friday. By the Monday it was announced that we would be moving to a different site again; further from my home and with no running water! I refused to move and the line manager stated there was no option. I then escalated to the head of operations and the director of hr and they said there was no problem for me to remain at my original location. This was in January. I did move to a different room in the building which was fine, as it was quiet and I was comfortable sitting in the corner with no reason for anyone to pass behind me which I hate! If things did get noisy I would play white noise through headphones which helped. The line manager was far from pleased and had tried to stitch me up by giving me tasks she knows I dislike, and switching them about arbitrarily. She also tried blaming me for her errors which I had a meltdown about, and no longer trust her. Last week I was off sick with a virus and in accordance with company procedure I called line manager on her mobile, and did likewise on Thursday. As I was no better on Friday, I did the same and on that occasion she told me my desk was being moved again, and when I arrived yesterday after the bank Holiday, my stuff had been moved to the worst location possible; with the door behind me, constant traffic, next to a part of the telephone system that generates a ringtone if no-one picks up - and sitting opposite the loudest person in the company! I went into one and left the premises, leaving a formal complaint letter that I had written over the weekend in case my fears were realised; I don't trust the LM, the HR director left out of the blue, the head of ops is in hospital, and I'm expecting a call from the MD. My feeling is that the LM is trying to get me to leave; I don't see why I should give notice, but I no longer want to work there. At age 65 there's minimal chance of finding something else, and I think I have a good case for a tribunal for breaching the Equalities Act, and/or constructive dismissal. Any opinions are welcome.

Hi, I'm new to this community and cross stitching in general. I'm making something right now and I'm wanting to follow the curve of the hoop im using with some lettering, but I can't find anywhere where it shows you have to curve letters in this way. I was hoping maybe someone here would be able to help, or point me in the right direction. Thank you.

Session 0: https://www.reddit.com/DeltaGreenRPG/comments/1d0l92x/impossible_landscapes_session_0/
(Okay, these will be long. Five players, lmao. Hadn't quite accounted for that)
Operation ALICE, New York, 1995
The Roster (Player/Character)
Lea (she/her): Jules Gradkowska - Agent MIRANDA. Journalist - research and human intelligence.
Iain (he/him): Ralph Bevis - Agent MILHOUSE. Academic - history and occult specialist.
Quinn (he/him): Richard Delapore - Agent MAVERICK. FBI Special Agent - criminal and forensic expert and the official 'face' of the investigation.
Phil (he/him): Jean Duvall - Agent MAIN. US Navy Master Chief Petty Officer - operational security specialist.
Duncan (he/him): Jake Little - Agent MALATESTA. Civilian contractor - computer and electronic specialist with a side line in hacking.
Rob_sothoth (he/him) - Handler. The arbiter of the world: the good, the bad and that which cannot and should not be named.
Background: The Agents of M-Cell are tasked with investigating the apartment of Abigail Wright. Missing since June, Delta Green has reason to suspect para-natural involvement. Their orders are simple: catalogue the apartment and remove anything deemed suspect for destruction.
Despite heavy changes made, full spoiler warning for Impossible Landscapes.

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Session 1 "The Apartment" (May 24th, 2024)
New York: Tuesday, August 8th, 1995
1:45pm - 3:32pm, EST
Entering the lobby of the Macallistar building in Kips Bay, NYC, the Agents first make a sweep of Abigail's mailbox. Agent MARCUS (M-Cell Case Officer) provided them with a complete set of keys, not to be copied. The mailbox is stuffed full with bills, junk mail, catalogues and offers; mail still being delivered by people who have no idea Abigail is missing. MAVERICK gathers it in a bag and they make their way to Abigail's apartment (Ground floor).
The Macallistar echoes an earlier age. Faded purple carpeting and design from the turn of the century. Opposite Abigail's front door is an old-fashioned telephone nook, complete with bench and curtain for comfort and privacy when phone-lines in individual apartment was an expense few could afford.
M-Cell enters the apartment, finding it somewhere between a hoarder's dream and crime-scene technician's nightmare. The small hallway leads to a living-room (the apartment's largest space), an adjoining bedroom and a kitchen and bathroom opposite each other. Aside from the hallway, on first inspection the only other uncluttered space is the kitchen, which doesn't really look as if it's been used much. MAVERICK ear-marks that as something he wants to check himself as the team begin taking stock.
The NYPD has left a box with copies of their files, including a list of tenants they interviewed, many, many evidence collection bags and a box of latex gloves.
The apartment is filled with various items, with almost no floor visible beneath the collection. CDs and CD cases are stuck or glued to the wall, along with mannequin parts, sketches and assorted pieces that might be ceramic or plastic arranged in odd patterns without reason or rhyme. Stacks of phone books, stretches of dyed fabrics stitched together, an antique claw-footed lamp. Bags, bundles of pictures (drawings and photographs) of seeming nonsense. No furniture is immediately visible in the chaotic mess.
MAIN finds the same result in the bedroom as the first Search rolls are called for. Something catches his eye in the anarchy of the bedroom.
MALATESTA begins sorting through the pile of mail. MILHOUSE at first begins helping, but seeing the scale of the cataloguing, volunteers to make a coffee and food run. MIRANDA begins photographing, while MAVERICK gloves up and asks for things to be passed to him such as brushes, anything with a handle really or something more likely to have fingerprints on it. He wants to see if he can grab a set of Abigail's prints, if that's possible.
It doesn't take MALATESTA long to work out Abigail stopped paying her rent and bills in or around March before disappearing in June. Money was coming in up to a certain point, apparently from a showing Abigail had at the Mercury Gallery in Greenwich Village in November the previous year. There's even a letter from the gallery owner asking about another possible showing; from the way it's written, it might not have been the first time he spoke to Abigail before she vanished. Then, the only money coming in appears to be from her father, though she doesn't appear to have used it to cover the rent. He also gets the building management company, Art Life and their address.
As the Agents work, with MAIN carefully picking his way through the bedroom towards whatever caught his eye and MAVERICK uncovers a battery-powered hi-fi under all the trash, MILHOUSE returns from his coffee run and bumps into someone else entering the Macallistar at the same time he is. After an awkward hesitation on the threshold, MILHOUSE spends a little chatting to Lewis Post, one of Abigail's neighbours. MILHOUSE passes a HUMINT roll and I ruled that having spent most of his time in academics and his fellow PhDs, he can spot signs of some kind of social anxiety. I felt that was a fair get for a good success.
Lewis is hesitant but forthcoming as MILHOUSE works that high charisma score, knowing what to say to diffuse any potential tension. As far as Lewis knows, he is FBI of some kind after all.
MILHOUSE: "Did she ever mention a boyfriend? Girlfriend?"
Lewis: "Our relationship wasn't really like that. We had coffee sometimes. Talked about art. The process." He thinks. "She might have mentioned someone, but not a name, only what they did. A salesman, but I couldn't tell you what they sold."
MILHOUSE: "Talk about anything else?"
Lewis begins heading upstairs "She mentioned moving, but not before she was ready."
Back in the apartment, MAIN voices what others were thinking. "Where was she staying?" No bed, no signs of habitation except for the assorted hoard of crap. MAIN finds a hand grenade nestled in some papers and art supplies near the bedroom's walk-in closet.
In the living room, MAVERICK finds a single cassette tape in the uncovered hi-fi and flips it on, finding the batteries still live. Everyone hears MAVERICK's conversation with his significant other, Natalie from the previous evening. MAVERICK realises it's cut up and out of order, rewinds it and then flips it over. He thinks the entire conversation has been split between A & B sides of the tape.
MALATESTA and MAVERICK both consider phone-tapping, but MAIN, grenade temporarily forgotten, asks how it ended up here?
SAN check for MAVERICK. Pocketing the cassette tape, MAVERICK closes down a bit and prepares to go over the kitchen with a fine tooth comb; perhaps this is how he copes?
Before MAIN can mention the grenade he's worried about, MIRANDA, MALATESTA, MILHOUSE & MAVERICK notice something on the wall behind where the hi-fi was previously buried under junk. Fixed to the wall, maybe with some kind of glue is a piece of brown packing-paper with some kind of symbol drawn on it. Everyone focuses on it.

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3:41pm to 5:22pm, EST
MALATESTA: "That certainly looks like what we're supposed to be worried about."
MIRANDA snaps a polaroid. MILHOUSE tries to examine it, but his Occult check can only give him the vague thought it's connected to demonology, but little else beyond that. MAVERICK is cautious, but more concerned about getting to work on the unusually spotless kitchen.
Carefully, MIRANDA removes it and a blaring sounds like something between a horn blast and explosion almost deafens the Agents. It seems to come from everywhere and nowhere, from right next to them and outside at the same time.
Everyone passes a CONx5 check and the subsequent SAN check. Through the living room's window, MIRANDA, MILHOUSE and MAIN see a yellow-cab in the street outside. The cabbie appears to have leaned on the horn as someone crosses the street. They appear heavily dressed for summer, possibly homeless.
Is that a snake draped across their shoulders?
MIRANDA takes a polaroid while MILHOUSE and MAIN head outside to investigate. The picture reveals in sharp clarity, the cabbie staring down the barrel as she snapped the shot directly at her. MAVERICK gets to work in the kitchen and MALATESTA picks over things in the living room and bedroom respectively.
Search rolls for those in the apartment.
Outside, the cab has turned the corner and the pedestrian has carried on, though MAIN and MILHOUSE are able to work out where they went. MILHOUSE heads to cut off the other side of the alley, while MAIN approaches from behind, getting the pedestrian's attention. It's the height of summer in NYC, the air reeks of gasoline, rotting garbage and baking, soiled concrete and asphalt.
MAIN finds a nondescript, seemingly homeless man by the state of his clothes, but with a python draped over his shoulders. MAIN strikes up conversation, lighting a Gitane cigarette and pointing to the snake. From the other end of the alley, MILHOUSE makes his way towards the pair.
MAIN fails an alertness check.
Is this guy sweating? It's hot and he's bundled up like it's winter. Is he sweating? Why isn't he sweating?
Back in the apartment, MAVERICK tests the kitchen for blood and body fluids, breaking out the spray bottle and UV light. There's no cutlery, glassware or dishware anywhere in the room, but as he's lifting what could be a print, finds a mechanical diagram drawn on a napkin taped above the inside of an otherwise empty drawer. MALATESTA & MIRANDA continue their search of the living and bedroom, with MALATESTA finding a card printed with the following:
"For a good time Call D - 999-202-9989"
On the reverse are a series of what appear to be street corner addresses in Brooklyn. Could be a sex-line, could be a way to see Red Band underground film screenings, could be something online related. MALATESTA drifts between a few circles and he pockets it out of curiosity. When MIRANDA locates the grenade in the bedroom, she is careful to give it a wide berth and locates what MAIN missed: a backpack radio in the bedroom's walk-in closet. She calls MALATESTA over.
Back in the alleyway, MILHOUSE rolls under 10% and passes his disguise check. Dressed casually and a college athlete to boot, he fits the general chad look in his New York Knicks shirt despite his academic leanings. Being loud and obnoxious like he's drunk, he barrels into the homeless guy with the snake who stonewalled MAIN.
Instead he hits MAIN as the man with the snake is there and gone in the space between blinks. One moment MAIN is looking at him and then MILHOUSE knocks him flat on his ass. Like a film edit. Just gone. MAIN crit fails his SAN check and takes 4 SAN loss without projecting. Instead, as he scrambles up begins kicking over trash cans and searching the alley while MILHOUSE tries to calm him down and get a handle on things.
As MILHOUSE is talking MAIN out of tearing the alley apart, MIRANDA and MALATESTA check out the radio. As it comes to life, they listen and hear the following:
"Exeter. India. One. Thirteen. Sierra. Twenty. Twenty. Forty-nine."
MAVERICK meanwhile, finding the kitchen bare oddly finds the refrigerator stocked. There isn't much inside, some milk unopened and a pack of cheese and deli meat. Expiration is months ago, but through the plastic and glass of the bottle it looks fresh. Curious, he opens the milk and finds it smells as fresh as the day it was bought. Months ago.
Passes his SAN check. Given what he heard on the tape, it's not the strangest thing today.
MAIN and MILHOUSE detour to grab some more coffees, more to calm MAIN down and give him a (successful CHAx5 check) to flirt with the coffeeshop waitress. On their return, MAIN heads into the bedroom, pulls the pin on the grenade and activates the firing lever.
Nothing happens. His "hunch" was correct. Despite failing to properly identify it, something about the shape of it didn't match modern ordnance. Like the radio, it's vintage and either deactivated or else rendered inert by time and age.
I gave MAIN a SAN point back, because why not?
As things begin winding down, MILHOUSE and MAVERICK puzzle over the weird fridge, with MILHOUSE sacrificing his green tea and MAVERICK a donut to see how "fresh" they are come morning between the fridge and not.

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After 6pm, EST
Between them, M-Cell take the rest of the evening to take care of home-scenes or any unfinished business they can get done with their resources at hand. They also divide the Operational evidence from the Case evidence, with MIRANDA taking the symbol, MALATESTA the backpack radio & phone number, MAVERICK the cassette tape (for obvious reasons) and MAIN the mechanical sketch on the napkin.
MIRANDA and MILHOUSE, using the former's academic credentials both stay on the case, with MIRANDA leaving her photos from the park to develop in her bathroom. While she fails her roll, she does help MILHOUSE identify the demon the symbol refers to and book-related lead. She hits up a criminal contact named Hugo to put out feelers for weird items she may be interested in. He agrees for a fee, which she negotiates in her favour.
Returning to her apartment, MIRANDA finds her photos of the dancing clown and watching crowd have developed. In every photograph, the clown is turned away from her, but the faces in the crowd are looking at her. That's not how she remembers it. Fails a SAN check. Projects on to her editor, knowing she's going to be taking a "personal day" tomorrow, and this after she agreed to go to the grill.
This will have consequences.
MAIN, unnerved by the day's events, not the least of which was being knocked on his ass by a fitter, younger man, heads out. He returns to the coffeeshop he and MILHOUSE visited and takes the waitress he hit on out on a date. After a romantic interlude, MAIN has a new bond. Her name's Marsha, she's 27 and very nice.
Breaking Operational Security, MAVERICK asks MALATESTA to come back to his apartment and check for possible surveillance. Despite suffering comparatively little SAN loss overall, MAVERICK is letting the day's events impact his behaviour.
It's trivially easy for MALATESTA to confirm there are no bugs in place, which really does narrow the options for how the conversation could have been recorded. Thankful, he asks MALATESTA to keep this to himself for now, to which the grunge-kid agrees. MAVERICK drops MALATESTA near his home and leaves, putting the tape in the player of his car as he pulls away.
MALATESTA lives near the Village and diverts to check out the Mercury Gallery. Though closed, it seems legit and he makes a note of it for later. Back at home, he breaks open the backpack radio and examines it. The battery is not connected to the radio itself, the wires having been stripped out, yet he and MIRANDA both heard a voice on the end of its phone-mic. He passes his SAN check and finds in place of one of the transistors a small, black stone which does not feel like stone at all and feels like it's body temperature. MALATESTA leaves it on his desk, covered in a cloth.
Alone in his apartment, MAVERICK watches his phone. The time comes and he does not call Natalie. A moment later, his phone rings.
Alone in the apartment, MAVERICK does not answer.

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Post-Mortem
We ended up playing for a touch longer than I intended, but I knew that would happen by the time the cab sounded its horn. Despite some tiredness and some drinking, we ended up with a really strong session in retrospect, which has set the overall tone of the campaign for me as GM going forward. Between the five players, two have been through one Delta Green campaign, one has experience with Pulp Cthulhu and two have varying levels of exposure. They all roleplayed the f##k out of their characters and while I was worried about just how weird I wanted things to get out the gate, it feels like the balance is correct and I've given enough avenues for further investigation they may want to pursue.
I got a far better sense, as did the players, as to what drives and motivates their characters and how they cope or don't cope with Delta Green work.
MILHOUSE is definitely setting himself up as the curious academic, Iain playing his interest as forever drawn towards what's there "to discover," he said in character. Perhaps a fool and his sanity are easily parted?
MAVERICK is the "all-American", Agent Cooper adjacent FBI Agent who butts up against the para-natural and is seemingly rocked by it, revealing a complicated and perhaps conflicted depth. In his previous operation with MIRANDA, MAVERICK killed one person, but something about this has gotten under his skin. I wonder what Natalie thinks about their missed call?
A hacker by trade, MALATESTA likes a puzzle as much as he does not like the "weird shit." He talks a good talk when it's about something he knows, but is much too shy to chat up his co-worker. He and MAVERICK had some friction in Session 0 when MAVERICK wanted to call him Mal, to which the younger man pushed back against. Yet, he now knows where MAVERICK lives. Maybe he can learn more? What will he do with that? Does he even want to?
As much as MILHOUSE, MIRANDA is likewise driven by curiosity and a need to know, but first and foremost to keep herself safe. She and him are not the same. There's a scar above her hip from a knife, and it still twinges from time to time. She's also the first to directly or indirectly involve a Bond in the investigation. I wonder what Hugo will or won't find? I wonder what those photos mean. MIRANDA wondered aloud whether the crowd or the clown was the "entity." What does that mean?
Despite being built like Jack Reacher (albeit in a sailor suit), MAIN projects a tough air but is clearly a man at the crossroads. He turns 40 before 1995 ends; middle age. When hit with a problem or something he can't otherwise work out, his behaviour swings from one extreme to the other. To date, he's coped with the case by: lashing out at trash cans in an alley. Chatting up a waitress and forming a romantic bond with her. Pulling the pin on a grenade he "thought" could be fake. It's day one. I'm here for it.
Our next session is scheduled for June 7th, 2024.
Until then, be seeing you.