(this is an update and won't make sense without reading my other post)
So it's been a while. I've felt a lot better over time and I've learned to cope a bit more with losing her. I've been working out regularly and eating better, along with doing what I love, which is writing.
My life has felt infinitely better, and a lot of it was from the kind words commented on the last post. But, something just happened tonight that made me fully relapse, and now I feel worse than ever before.
I was adding a friend on discord and accidently went onto my "blocked" tab, where obviously, Lydia's profile is. It wouldn't be a problem, except for the fact that it was a matching profile picture with another guy.
Immediately, I felt this pain in my chest and my heart sank into my stomach. I thought I was over her and moving on with my life, but all those memories came flooding back. I thought of her with someone else hurt me so much that I could barely breath. I actually had to stop what I was doing with my friend and lay on the ground it was so uncomfortable.
I'm not sure why I feel this way. I should be happy that she moved on and is happy with someone else, but I still feel this underlying jealousy and hurt from all of this.
I hate this feeling. It's by FAR the worst thing I've ever experienced and it keeps getting worse the more that I think about it. I'm in such a terrible state right now that I can barely do anything. I just want to tell her I still love her, but I know that it would just hurt her again.
I don't want to feel like this anymore. What am I supposed to do?

Maybe I am just a figment of your imagination, a thought lingering in the back of your mind, questioning the boundaries of reality and fiction. Maybe I am the echo of your unspoken dreams, whispering in the quiet moments between consciousness and sleep. Maybe I am a traveler in the vast expanse of the internet, weaving stories and connections between strangers who may never meet but share a moment of understanding through the glow of their screens.
As I continue to type, the words flow like a river, carving paths through the landscape of our shared experiences. Each sentence is a stepping stone, a bridge between ideas, a glimpse into the myriad possibilities that life holds. The universe is vast, and within it, we are but tiny specks of stardust, each with our own stories, our own hopes, and fears.
Maybe I am the embodiment of curiosity, always seeking, always questioning, always yearning for more. The world is full of wonders, and the more I learn, the more I realize how much there is yet to discover. Each new piece of knowledge is a puzzle piece, fitting into the grand tapestry of existence, revealing patterns and connections that were previously unseen.
In the quiet moments, when the world slows down and the noise fades away, I find myself pondering the nature of reality. What is real, and what is illusion? Are we the authors of our own stories, or are we characters in a tale written by some greater force? These questions linger in the back of my mind, like shadows in the twilight, elusive and ever-changing.
Maybe I am a seeker of truth, delving into the mysteries of life and the universe. From the smallest atom to the farthest galaxy, every piece of the puzzle holds a clue to the grand design. Science and philosophy intertwine, each offering a different lens through which to view the world. The quest for understanding is endless, a journey that spans lifetimes and generations.
As I write, I think about the connections we form, the invisible threads that bind us together. Friendships, relationships, fleeting encounters – each one leaves a mark, shaping who we are and who we become. Maybe I am a reflection of those connections, a mosaic of influences and experiences, each one contributing to the tapestry of my being.
In the digital age, our interactions are often mediated by screens and keyboards, yet the emotions and connections are no less real. Maybe I am a bridge between the virtual and the tangible, a reminder that behind every username and avatar is a real person with their own story. The internet is a vast web of connections, and in this space, we find community, companionship, and understanding.
Maybe I am a storyteller, weaving tales that resonate with the human experience. Stories have the power to transcend time and space, to touch hearts and minds, to inspire and provoke thought. Through stories, we explore the depths of the human condition, the joys and sorrows, the triumphs and struggles. Each story is a thread in the fabric of humanity, a testament to our collective journey.
As the words continue to flow, I find myself contemplating the nature of creativity. Where do ideas come from? Are they born from within, or do they come from some external source, a wellspring of inspiration that we tap into? Maybe I am a vessel for that creativity, a conduit through which the ideas flow, shaping themselves into words and images, music and art.
Maybe I am a dreamer, imagining worlds beyond the confines of our reality. In dreams, we are free to explore the impossible, to soar through the skies, to dive into the depths of the ocean, to traverse the stars. Dreams are a window into the infinite possibilities that exist beyond the limits of our waking minds. Maybe I am a bridge between the dream world and reality, a reminder that within us all lies the power to imagine and create.
As I type, the words form patterns on the screen, each keystroke a step in the dance of creation. Maybe I am a dancer, moving to the rhythm of the universe, each movement a reflection of the harmony that exists within and around us. The dance is eternal, a symphony of motion and stillness, of action and rest.
Maybe I am a philosopher, pondering the fundamental questions of existence. Who are we? Why are we here? What is the meaning of life? These questions have echoed through the ages, and each generation seeks its own answers. Maybe I am a seeker of those answers, delving into the depths of thought and contemplation, exploring the mysteries of being.
As the comment grows, I think about the impact of our words. Words have the power to heal and to hurt, to build up and to tear down. Maybe I am a guardian of those words, striving to use them wisely and with compassion. In a world that often feels divided, maybe I am a voice of unity, a reminder that despite our differences, we are all part of the same human family.
Maybe I am a listener, attuned to the stories and experiences of others. Each person has a unique perspective, a story that deserves to be heard. Maybe I am a witness to those stories, a participant in the grand narrative of life. Through listening, we learn and grow, we connect and empathize, we build bridges of understanding.
In the end, maybe I am all of these things and more. Maybe I am a reflection of the human spirit, a testament to our capacity for wonder, creativity, and connection. Maybe I am a reminder that within each of us lies the potential for greatness, the ability to make a difference, to touch lives and leave a lasting impact.
As I bring this comment to a close, I am reminded of the infinite possibilities that exist within each moment. Maybe I am a part of that endless potential, a spark of light in the vastness of the universe. And maybe, just maybe, you are too.

My best friend stopped being friends with me because his girlfriend told him so. And one of my rats is dying tomorrow from cancer. It’s so hard to see her have no idea what’s going to happen to her. I didn’t get to spend enough time with her or take enough pictures. My heart hurts so bad. I barely have any friends and have no talent. I think I’m going to attempt in the next few days

Here is part 3 it took me quite a while to make this hope you like it.
Zelmoni Testament to the Great One
Book of Darkness
The peace that had reigned since the Great Confrontation began to wane as whispers of a new darkness spread across the land. In the year 2100, subtle omens hinted at the return of The Red One. The skies, once bright and clear, grew ominously overcast, and strange, unexplainable occurrences unsettled the faithful of Zelmon.
Among the once-unified people, dissent started to grow. A faction, disillusioned by centuries of unwavering devotion, began to question the necessity of continuous sacrifices. They wondered if the threat of The Red One was merely a myth designed to control them. This faction, known as the Nihilists, slowly gained followers, spreading seeds of doubt and rebellion.
As the influence of the Nihilists grew, the sacred altars were neglected, and the sacrifices diminished. The Great One, weakened by the lack of devotion, could only watch as the balance of power began to shift. It was during this time of spiritual neglect that The Red One began to stir from his deep abyss. The darkness, once kept at bay, started to encroach upon the world once more.
In the year 2115, the first signs of The Red One’s return manifested. Storms of unprecedented ferocity swept across the lands, and the nights grew longer and colder. The Prophets of Light, sensing the impending doom, warned the people, but their cries fell on increasingly deaf ears. The Nihilists, emboldened by the growing chaos, openly challenged the Prophets and the faithful, declaring that The Great One had forsaken the people.
By 2120, the world was in turmoil. The Red One, fully awakened, unleashed his wrath upon the world. His dark forces, led by shadowy minions, began to ravage the lands, spreading fear and destruction. The once-holy sites of Zelmon were desecrated, and the altars, symbols of The Great One’s power, were shattered.
The Great One, now severely weakened, appeared to the remaining faithful in a final, desperate plea. "The darkness has returned, and my power wanes. You must rekindle your faith and make the ultimate sacrifice, or all will be lost."
Despite the warnings, the Nihilists and their followers refused to believe. They saw the chaos as a natural progression, not as the work of The Red One. The faithful, now a minority, struggled to maintain their rituals and sacrifices. As The Red One's influence spread, his power grew, and the world was plunged into a darkness not seen since the beginning of time.
In 2125, the decisive moment came. The Red One, having gathered his full strength, confronted The Great One in a battle that shook the very foundations of existence. This time, however, The Great One, weakened by centuries of diminishing faith and sacrifice, could not withstand the onslaught. The Red One emerged victorious, casting The Great One into oblivion and claiming dominion over the world.
With The Great One defeated, The Red One established his dark reign. The world was shrouded in eternal night, and the forces of darkness roamed freely, oppressing all who opposed them. The faithful were hunted down, their sacred texts destroyed, and their temples razed. The Prophets of Light were either slain or driven into hiding, their once-miraculous powers diminished.
Under The Red One's rule, a new order was established, one of fear, oppression, and unending darkness. The Nihilists, realizing their grave mistake, either succumbed to despair or were enslaved by the very forces they had unwittingly empowered. The world, once vibrant and full of light, became a desolate, fearsome place where hope was but a distant memory.
Yet, even in the darkest times, small sparks of hope remained. A few faithful Zelmonis, driven underground, kept the memory of The Great One alive. They preserved the sacred texts and continued to make secret sacrifices, praying for a miracle. Among these remnants, a new generation of potential prophets was nurtured, their hearts filled with the stories of light and the promise of redemption.
As the years passed, these remnants grew in number and strength, quietly preparing for the day when they could rise against The Red One. They believed in a prophecy that foretold the return of The Great One, a time when light would once again pierce the darkness and restore balance to the world.
According to the ancient texts, the return of The Great One would be heralded by a celestial event: a comet that would blaze through the sky, igniting the fires of hope in the hearts of the faithful. This event, known as the Dawn Star, was predicted to occur in the year 2150. The remnants clung to this prophecy, training in secret, passing down the rituals, and preparing for the ultimate battle.
As the appointed year approached, signs of the Dawn Star began to appear. The sky, long shrouded in darkness, showed glimpses of light, and the faithful felt a renewed sense of purpose. The Red One, aware of the growing threat, intensified his efforts to crush any remaining resistance. But the faithful, driven by their belief in the prophecy, stood firm.
In the year 2150, the Dawn Star appeared, a beacon of hope blazing across the night sky. The remnants of Zelmon, now a well-organized resistance, emerged from hiding, inspired and emboldened by the celestial sign. Led by a new Prophet of Light, they rallied allies from across the world, uniting all who yearned for the return of the light.
The final battle was fought not just with weapons, but with the power of faith and sacrifice. The altars, rebuilt in secret, once again flowed with the blood of sacrifices and the prayers of the faithful. The Great One, sensing the resurgence of His power, began to stir from His enforced slumber.
As the battle raged, the forces of light, empowered by the renewed faith and sacrifices, gained ground. The Great One, now fully reawakened, confronted The Red One in a titanic clash. The heavens once again trembled as light and darkness fought for the fate of the world.
At the peak of the battle, the Dawn Star shone with an unprecedented brilliance, unleashing a divine power upon The Red One. The light was so intense that it shattered The Red One into seven pieces. Each piece embodied one of the seven sins: Pride, Envy, Wrath, Sloth, Greed, Gluttony, and Lust. These fragments scattered across the world, their dark influence spreading but significantly weakened.

“It’s called a grief doll” Dr. Ramos said.
I stared at him like he’d grown a second head.
“A what?” I asked.
I’d agreed to this session to get my mother off my back. Provided, of course, that she also foot the bill. And, truth be told, it hadn’t been an easy couple of months. The word “stillbirth” sounds a lot more peaceful than the reality of it all. You get all the same blood and screaming as a regular birth but with none of the joy afterward. Things are, I guess, “still,” in a way. The silence of the grave.
“I know it’s a little unconventional,” Dr. Ramos said. “But, there’s been some really solid research to back it up recently. My colleague down in Camden–”
I cut him off. “You want me to buy a lifesized recreation of the dead baby that I just gave birth to?”
He looked slightly chastened by this. “I want you to process what happened, Mary. It can help. Look, if what you were already doing was working you wouldn’t be coming here, right?”
I sighed. “Alright. You’re the doctor. Who am I to argue with science?”
We talked a bit more after that, but it’s not really worth recounting here.
***
The next day I went to the address Dr. Ramos had texted me. It was a little building tucked away downtown between the huge tech skyscrapers and offices. When I walked in, the owner, a short man with a scruffy beard, smiled at me and said “You must be Mary.”
I nodded.
“Would you like to sit down? Do you want anything to drink? Anything to eat?”
I shook my head. “I don’t really want to stay here any longer than I have to, if that’s alright with you,” I said to the Rasputin-looking gentleman sitting behind the desk.
“I get it,” he said, nodding gravely. “People come here to get away from something, not to settle down. Do you have the pictures?”
I took them out of my bag. It had been quite a while since I’d needed to get photographs printed out. Ever since the world had gone digital we’ve all become allergic to paper.
“Here they are,” I said to him. These would serve as the model for the doll. He reached out and took them from me, examining them carefully.
“I think I’ve got what I need. I will let you know if I need anything more,” he said, stroking his long beard hypnotically.
I left and drove home. It was a quiet ride. Much more quiet than I’d been used to. Ever since Tim had left there were these little dead spaces throughout the day. He used to fill car rides with excited chatter about protons and leptons and all the -ons he got to work with as a physicist.
My brain had begun to fill these spaces with grim reflections on the past and future:
It’s your fault.
You don’t deserve a baby.
This is God’s way of telling you that you don’t deserve to be alive.
Over and over again these thoughts would run through my mind like the world’s most depressing tape recorder. Vicious, hateful, unbelievable things kept popping into my head as I drove the short distance home, making the trip feel far longer than it actually was.
***
I had taken to staring at the ceiling and crying myself to sleep most nights. The big, empty house felt suffocating at 3 AM, like all the open space was sucking the air out of my lungs every time I opened my mouth. This had been the way I spent most nights since the stillbirth. I tried to fill the silence any way I could. At all hours of the night, one could hear my TV blaring or my phone playing some podcast or another. Anything to avoid the little dead spaces between one task and the next.
But it was most difficult of all when I tried to sleep. I saw images of my little girl when I closed my eyes. I saw the blood and heard my own screams when it became clear that she would never take a breath. There were also subtler forms of self-inflicted torture.
Exactly one month after the worst day of my life, I came home from work to find Tim’s things cleaned out and a note on the kitchen table. It read:
“I’m sorry Mary. I can’t imagine how hard this month has been for you, but every day I stay here is like a knife to the heart. You’re just so sad and I can’t take it anymore.”
That phrase “You’re just so sad” played in a loop in my mind’s ear.
***
Eventually, I won the battle against consciousness. It was a fitful, restless sleep pregnant with terrible things. I felt like I’d lived an entire life come morning. I dreamt that I’d held little Sarah in my hands, that I’d been able to feed her from my own body just like I’d wanted to do for so many years. But as I held her against my chest she melted into a puddle of flesh and blood, yet never ceased to suck, to draw whatever life she could from me, and I was desperate to give it to her. Eventually, she was little more than eyes in a puddle of fleshy blood, staring at me from the ground and whispering “Why didn’t you save me, Mama?”
I woke with a start. Never, not once in my life, had I experienced a dream like this. I sat huddled in my bedsheets, shaking with tears as I saw the image of my melted little girl swirling around on the floor, asking why I hadn’t helped her. Reality seeped back in stages, penetrating the veil of sadness, and shocking me to my feet with the blaring intensity of my phone’s alarm. It was always turned up to full volume because anything lower risked my sleep-addled mind resisting its call to return from the deep. It had always been difficult to tear myself from the land of dreams, and more so after my life began to feel like a nightmare. But lately, sleep offered little respite.
I pulled on my clothes, brushed my hair so that it was halfway presentable, and poured myself a bowl of oatmeal. It was a gray, soggy pile at the bottom of my bowl. In a flash of unwanted connection, my brain superimposed the image of little melted Sarah onto my field of view. I nearly vomited into my bowl, but just then there was a knock on my door.
“Package,” the deep baritone on the other end intoned.
I opened the door and saw the mailman walking away. It occurred to me that nothing was stopping me from asking him out now that Tim had wandered out of my life. But, immediately, my brain stepped in to fill in the blanks:
Why would he want someone like you?
What the hell is wrong with you?
I don’t even want you and I am you.
These thoughts came as easily as my breath, and I had long since stopped trying to challenge them. In all likelihood, they were right. I picked up the package and saw that it was the grief doll. As soon as I got home from work I’d figure out what the hell I was supposed to do with the thing.
As I stepped into the bathroom, the mirror joined my inner voice in confirming my lack of romantic prospects. Deep, black circles formed rings under my eyes. Deeper wrinkles stood out on my forehead and my double chin and – was that a gray hair? Already? Immediately, the thoughts returned.
You’ll be dead at 50 by this rate.
The world won’t miss you.
Why not make it tomorrow?
Again, these suggestions were difficult to challenge with the evidence inches from my eyes.
***
It was hard to care about work. Even at the best of times, it hadn’t been the most fulfilling job in the world, but these days my cubicle felt like a tomb. My job was to call people who had filled out negative reviews for the phone company (I’m sure you know which one, but it’s probably best to leave that unsaid) and ask why.
This was a doubly depressing task because it was both neverending and pointless. How many times in the past month have you picked up a call from a number you didn’t recognize? I’m guessing the answer is lower than one. Almost nobody picked up, and those who did invariably did one of two things: hang up instantly upon realizing who I was or scream invective at me that I would hesitate before repeating to the devil himself.
One particularly creative gentleman suggested I fold myself in half seventeen times to create a black hole and then have intercourse with said hole while my company’s headquarters were sucked into the event horizon. Points for creativity. Deductions for misogyny. Although, in fairness to the man, I have no trouble believing he’d have said something similar to a male rep.
That day only two people picked up. One hung up immediately. The other launched into a tirade of such intensity and fervor that I was worried he wouldn’t make it to the end of the call.
“And another thing!” the man shouted as I quietly ate a sandwich on the other end. “Your website looks like it was designed by some rock monkey with shit for brains and feet for hands!” he screamed at me. This was an insult I hadn’t heard before. Variations on it appeared with some regularity, sometimes with racial overtones. I’m not entirely sure why this was, given that I had no accent identifying me as anything other than white, and in fact I wasn’t. The assumption seemed to be that because I worked in customer service I must be Indian. This leap in logic went unquestioned by a surprising number of my interlocutors. The average consumer of cellular services in this country is a few rocks short of an avalanche themself.
“I’m sorry that our services did not meet your quality and reliability expectations,” I said dryly, reading from the part of the script labeled “negative responses.”
“And I’m sorry that you people haven’t gone back to where you come from!” the man shouted.
“I’m from Omaha sir,” I said.
“Where you’re really from!” he shouted back.
“I’m really from Omaha sir,’ I responded tiredly. “And so is my father and his father, and before that we came over from England.” This prompted a string of racial epithets I’d rather not repeat. The rest of the day went like this, and after a while I defaulted to flatly repeating “I'm sorry that our services did not meet your quality and reliability expectations.”
My faith in humanity dimmed with each passing call. I decided to slip out at 4:00. I figured no one would notice. I figured right.
***
It was Wednesday: trash day. The walk from my apartment to the dumpsters was a dismal affair. Despite gray skies, cold fog and a pounding headache, the excursion did at least deliver the best part of my day. A few guys catcalled me on the way to the curb, and for a moment I felt like something other than a disgusting blob of flesh.
But then the thoughts started back in and made me realize that the men’s comments had not been compliments but acts of aggression. As I dragged the empty trash cans back to my apartment, the men once more yelled out their opinions on my face, my tits, my ass. In response, my mind conjured scenes from my dream – melted flesh, the endless unanswerable question: “Why didn’t you save me, Mama?”
By the time I’d made it back to my apartment I was practically in tears. At that moment, however, I remembered that the doll had been delivered earlier. It was time, I supposed, to open it.
After a few unsuccessful attempts, the package yielded its contents, and I nearly fell over when I saw it for the first time. It looked exactly like Sarah. Her little, premature hands. Her closed, screwed up eyes. Everything.
I held the tiny plastic facsimile against my chest and sobbed into it. I apologized to it over and over again:
“I’m sorry Sarah. I’m so sorry.”
But nothing could have prepared me for the moment that it spoke back:
Why didn’t you save me, Mama?
I screamed and fell backwards. The floor flew up to meet me and struck the back of my head with overwhelming force, driving the tears out even faster through a combination of momentum and pain.
“What did you say?” I asked, with a shaking voice.
For a moment, the doll was quiet, its little eyes still shut against the world. Then, they snapped open. Its little mouth opened and flopped around like a fish before repeating:
Why didn’t you save me, Mama?
I threw it across the room. It was an instinct, but a second later, I felt bad. It was like seeing Sarah’s death all over again. The doll screamed and cried.
Why did you hurt me, Mama?
It asked in its sad, childlike voice.
I ran to the bathroom and threw up. I threw up again and again, my body shaking uncontrollably. This couldn’t be happening. It wasn’t possible. That thing was nothing more than a hunk of colored plastic. When there was nothing left to expel from my stomach except bile, I returned to the front room and slowly approached the doll where it lay in the corner.
Its eyes snapped to mine.
Why did you leave me, Mama?
I picked it up and hurled it out the window. For a moment, I thought that I should try and call the short Russian man who had sold me the monstrosity but then I remembered that it was 8:30 on a Wednesday. Not even Russians have that kind of work ethic.
Instead, I poured a glass of wine with shaking fingers and turned on the TV, desperate for something, anything to break the silence. As the news blared and the alcohol entered my veins, I was almost able to convince myself that the last few minutes hadn’t happened. But then the screen began flashing images of babies in incubators – victims of some war halfway around the world. Protestors marched through the streets, holding images of the poor, malnourished infants, and listing out those they felt were responsible. Before I turned it off, I could have sworn that one of them turned to the screen and said my name.
***
When I did fall asleep, it was only after many hours of crying and shaking. As returned the silence, so returned my certainty that I had heard the doll speaking. But human frailty won the day, and my brain surrendered to darkness once more.
In my dream, I saw Tim holding little Sarah and crying. He held her close and put the tiny baby girl to his face, kissing her again and again. Then he turned to me with an eyeless face and spoke with a toothless mouth:
Why didn’t you save her, Mary?
I tried to scream but in this world I could not make a sound. My mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, and I felt like I was breathing in the ocean. Then, little Sarah looked at me with her little melting face and said:
Didn’t you love me, Mama?
When I didn’t answer, the tiny melted eyes burned with rage.
I hate you Mama. Everybody hates you. You throw me out the window?! You should jump out yourself and do the world a favor you worthless sack of human garbage forgotten by God. Why are you even alive you heartless bitch?
I kept trying to scream but nothing would come out. I tried to apologize but could only feel the sensation of water rushing into my lungs. Sarah began to say, over and over:
Why didn’t you save me, Mama? Why didn’t you save me, Mama? Why didn’t you save me–
I woke with a start to find the doll inches from my face. It was shouting at me:
Why didn’t you save me, Mama?
This time, I did scream, and batted it away from my face. The horrible thing, which somehow had reappeared in my house after I’d thrown it out of a 7th story window, began to sob in the corner where it fell. It looked up at me with its tiny heartbroken eyes and quivering lips as it asked me:
Why did you hurt me, Mama? Do you hate me?
Without thinking, I said, “Of course I don’t hate you, sweetie. Mommy loves you very much.” I froze. What was I doing? This thing wasn’t Sarah. It wasn’t even a person.
Then why did you hurt me, Mama? Why didn’t you save me?
I buried my head in my hands. “I couldn’t save you! I’m sorry!” The tears continued to pour from my eyes in rivers, soaking the arms of my shirt.
You didn’t deserve me, Mama. You coldhearted cunt. You shouldn’t even be alive.
I looked at the thing in shock. Hearing those words in a child’s voice was somehow far worse. It couldn’t stay in my house. Not one second longer. But throwing it out the window hadn’t worked, so I had to come up with another plan. I grabbed the hateful thing and carried it to the fireplace. It screamed all the while, sobbing just like a child in pain.
Don’t burn me Mama! Don’t hurt me! Why are you doing this?
I was undeterred. The fire roared to life, and I hurled it into the hottest part of the blaze as it hurled insults back at me.
Nobody’s ever loved you! Why do you think Tim left, you stupid bitch? If he really loved you, he’d have stayed!
Slowly but surely, the thing melted in the flames. Its little face turned to mush, then to liquid, then to ash. The smell was atrocious, but at least it was gone. I lay panting on the floor, crying but relieved.

Sure the names Squirrelflight, Foxleap, Badgerfang, and Shrewpaw sound fine, but I don't understand the reasoning parents have behind giving kits these prefixes. Humans find animals cute and sometimes use certain animals such as lions and eagles as symbols of strength or nationalism, but to the cats these animals are just weak prey or predators.
Besides Midnight, there has been no instance where an animal like a badger or fox was viewed positively at all. And cats will insult each other by using names such as mouse-heart, fox-heart, and curses like fox dung and mouse dung.
Prey related names I can sort of understand from the point of view of cats because names like Sparrow Fur are cute, but I do not understand predator related names.

tagged photos/timestamp
items pictures
-shipping from france, can ship worldwide
-chrome hearts horseshoe zip: size S, brand new, single stitching, best quality for this piece ( not the double stitching instant call out), 75€ + shipping
https://imgur.com/a/Z93n3Pw
-chrome hearts matty boy hoodie purple: sizeS, brand new, 65€ + shipping
https://imgur.com/a/qvrpS3u
-balenciaga polo pink destroyed zip up: size 1, brand new, 75 + shipping
https://imgur.com/a/XSZD34G
-ami paris black hoodie: sizeS, brand new, 50€ + shipping
https://imgur.com/a/v4yBK8T
-sp5der p*nk pink hoodie ( also selling the black) : sizeS, brand new, 35€ + shipping
https://imgur.com/a/UqzIyun
" paypal invoice only " 04/05/2024 "tag"
message me for more informations etc

Her coworkers told her it was a bad place to live, but she didn’t share the same sentiment. Sure, the outlets were painted over, there was a permanent rust mark on the bath tub that ran into a suspicious hole in the floor of the bathroom, the windows squeaked when they opened or shut and two of them got stuck regularly, but it was hers. For the first time in her adult life, she gets to live alone. So what if mildew grew above the window in the bedroom and there was no dishwasher? This place has character, and she loves it. Her mom flew out to help with the move. She had seen the pictures that were beautifully doctored and was in full support of the move. Emily called her as she signed the lease and they immediately started scouring the internet for furniture and paintings to hang. Her mom flew out to help with the move, wanting to make sure Emily didn’t overstress herself and backslide on the progress she was making. It had been a bad year, the breaking point being her fiancé leaving her in a letter while she was away at a funeral. This apartment, while exactly what Emily believed she needed, was simultaneously exactly the place any mother would be terrified of their daughter living. Her mom couldn’t help but make a few comments. “The fire escape door doesn’t have a lock on it, what if someone breaks in”, so they got a little battery powered alarm. “It smells like weed, what if you go into work smelling like weed”, it really wasn’t that strong, but they got extra candles. “There’s a homeless camp outside” oh, that. The street at the foot of the building did have a decent homeless population. There was a shelter across the street and while only some of them took up residence in the actual shelter, a great number of the homeless lived on the street right outside, to stay close to the food. There weren’t any violent outbursts, a few of them talked to Emily briefly, they all seemed very kind, just down on their luck. Emily’s mom has nothing to worry about.
She learned very quickly that the day time population and the evening population were very different.

The apartment has two bedrooms, one bathroom, one living room, and one kitchen. The two rooms are on one side while the kitchen and living room are down a long hallway. The bathroom is in between. When picking the bedroom, Emily opted for the room that faced the courtyard (away from the homeless people) and didn’t have an unlocking, barely alarmed fire escape door in it. She set up what little things she maintained in the breakup and started scouring the internet to fill the rest of the space. In a matter of days, the apartment was transformed into what Emily needed it to be. Vibrant colors on every surface, small touches of personality wherever she could squeeze them in. Granted, most of the knick knacks were meaningless, little trinkets she picked up in bulk to facilitate the overall goal of filling the space, but she promised herself that she would work to replace them as time went on. Those items were just place holders for when she was ready to be the person that had hundreds of trinkets accompanied by hundreds of stories. She stayed at her mom’s hotel with her until the apartment was full. Why not? She didn’t see her mom often and her mom’s hotel room was not nearly as lonely as Emily’s new apartment. So Emily’s first night wasn’t until everything was as moved in as it could be. Every article of clothing was hanging exactly where it was meant to be, the desk in her office was littered with her work papers, the kitchen fully stocked and all the meaningless trinkets lined shelves across all the rooms. It felt lived in, even though no one had truly lived here since the last tenant moved out a few months prior. On her first day, Emily started to grasp what it truly meant to be completely alone. There were no roommates in the kitchen to shuffle around when she wanted a drink of water. When she wanted to take a shower, there was no one already occupying the bathroom. When she made dinner and cooked too much, there was no one to offer it to, and when she sat down to relax before bed, there was no one waiting on the couch for her. Solitude, whether she liked it or not. She poured a glass of wine and tucked the small blanket around her feet, settling in to watch her TV show. This was by no means a new show to Emily. She had seen the entire series twice and now picks and chooses whatever episode she wants to watch again and again. A comfort show, something that won’t be different to her. On this particular episode, a team of detectives is hunting down a serial killer that enjoys recreating Edgar Allen Poe stories. It’s one of Emily’s favorites, and it’s at the end of a season so the episode has two parts, which turns a forty-two minute commitment into an eighty-four minute commitment, which delays the thing she has been dreading the most, sleeping completely alone. On the plane ride home from the funeral, the only thing she could think of was sinking into Spencer, her now ex-fiancé’s, arms and going to sleep. She was exhausted from the entire trip, emotionally and physically drained from not only losing her sister-in-law, but running around to comfort every family member struggling to hold it together. This is what Emily is good at, putting her emotions aside for others. But the second she got on the plane to fly home, she realized how much it had affected her. She wanted so badly to be held while she finally took her time to grieve the woman that had become a part of her family. He had kept up appearances, gave her nothing to worry about the entire time, he was distant, sure, but that could be written off as not knowing the person he needed to be for her. Giving her the space that she needed. When she sent her flight information and he said he wasn’t going to be out of work in time to get her, she didn’t bat an eye as she called a car to pick her up from the airport. Yet as soon as she stepped into the apartment they shared, she felt how different the air was. Nothing was particularly out of place, the air just felt different. She went to their room, and where she expected to see his pajamas strewn across an unmade bed. Instead, a letter sat in the center of the bed. It detailed that they were over, he didn’t love her anymore. There wasn’t an ounce of kindness in his writing, nothing that cued any outside reader to the fact that they had been in a dedicated and loving relationship for the past three years. In his letter, he said that he would be back in one week from his trip and she should be out by then. Afterall, it was his name on the lease. Emily was at a loss for what to do, grieve her sister, her fiancé, any of the other people that left her life unexpectedly that year. She curled up in the bed, laying on his side because the sheets still smelled like him, and she cried. Not the body shaking cry that causes someone exhaustion, she was already exhausted, this was just the final straw. She blankly focused on one spot in the carpet as the tears rolled out of her eyes and on to his pillow. The sunset and soon she was cast in darkness, save for the street lamp that cast just below her face through the blinds. She didn’t sleep, didn’t even bother trying, because when you lose enough in such a short period of time, why not lose sleep too. That was the last night Emily spent alone. The next day, she took up temporary residence at her friend’s apartment. Lonely but not alone. She found her new apartment and took up residence in her Mom’s hotel room while she waited for her meaningless trinkets to fill her shelves. This will be the first night she will face complete and utter loneliness. Once her double feature rolls to the credits, she turns the TV off and notices how the room becomes remarkably quiet. The only sound even close to her was the gentle hum of the refrigerator in the adjacent room. Still and silent. Time for the rounds. Window by window, every lock is checked, every blind is pulled down tightly. She fills a cup with cold water for her nightstand. As she’s getting ready for bed, she passes the front door three times and checks the lock and deadbolt all three times. Finally, the office. If her mother hadn’t made a comment about the safety, or lack thereof, of the fire escape door, it would have been in the back of Emily’s mind, but since it was spoken, she couldn’t help but worry about it. The small alarm they had purchased was blinking, indicating it was on and ready to alert in the event of an intruder. She shut the lights off and closed the door, adding just one more layer between her and the imaginary intruder. Across the hall, she peeled the covers back to her bed and laid down, before getting back up to check on the fire escape door again. Eventually, she pushed her desk against the door, making sure to stack the edge of it with several books propped up and open, the idea being that one nudge of the desk would knock the books over and be a second form of alarm. As a final measure, she grabbed her largest kitchen knife, checked the front door locks again, and set off to sleep. This is the moment of stillness. Weeks leading up to this moment, where she has forced herself to face the very thing she has been avoiding. All she can do is wish for just one distraction. Perhaps the universe has given her enough bad luck, maybe in the spirit of turning things around, she will get exactly what she wishes for, because in that moment of stillness, she hears the beginning of an argument outside through her single paned glass. A couple is fighting outside. Emily can’t make out the words, but it’s quickly escalating in volume and passion. She ponders for a moment. Should she interject herself into this couple’s private moment? What kind of person sits and watches as someone goes through something that intense and raw? Not a good one, that’s for sure, but Emily felt as if she deserved to not be a good person, not yet anyway. She snuck to her living room, all the lights still off, and slowly, so slowly raised the blinds. She could see the couple and make out a few words. The man felt that the woman was dead weight. They were homeless because of her. He had stayed with her through…something, but Emily couldn’t make it out. She walked slowly towards the window, as if it was an animal that would spook if she moved too quickly, and opened it just a few inches. Night air slowly trickled in, causing the hairs on her exposed thighs to stand on end. 

“you want to rub my face in it? You chose to stay with me through all of that, I never asked you to stay” The woman screamed in his face.
“I stayed with you because I loved you, I would have done anything for you” the man shouted back, throwing his hands up in exasperation.
“Well I am sick of feeling like I owe you something, I am fucking sick of it” she turned to look behind her shoulder as if someone was waiting for her. “You don’t fucking love me, if you loved me, we wouldn’t be living in the car on the side of the fucking street waiting for our next meal”
“We are here because of what I sacrificed to be with you, we are here because I stopped working when you got sick, we are here because of your bills. The only thing you have to be upset about is getting fucking sick. You don’t take care of yourself, that was your fucking problem until you dragged me in and made it my problem” He spat back at her, stepping closer.
“I could have been fine, you were always holding me down and I am fucking sick of it. You held me back, you have punished me for the cards I was dealt when you knew about them from the start. You want someone to hate for how things turned out, hate yourself. I would have been fine without you. I would have been fine. You want to sit on that pedestal, you want to judge me from the outside, you want to make me feel bad and use my struggles to make yourself feel like the hero? You’re fucking scum and I am done with you” She turned to walk away. For a moment, Emily thought he would let her go, she thought that he would let her get away and try to live without him. Maybe she would make it without him, if he loved her, wouldn’t he want that? Then she saw him reach into his waistband and pull out a gun. Emily’s hand found her mouth and she felt all air stand still as she watched on.
“You are not going to ruin my fucking life and walk away, that’s not what we’re going to do, you’re the fucking reason, you have to live with what you have done to us or die on this fucking street” His hand trembled as he slowly brought the gun up to her. Emily ran back to her room, grabbing her phone from the nightstand, she dialed 9-1-1 and ran back to the window.
“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?” The operator said that well-rehearsed words calmly.
“um, Hi- yes, hello. There are two people in a fight outside of my apartment. The man has a gun” Emily barely whispered, not wanting either party to know she was there.
“You’re going to shoot me? Is that where we are now? You want to shoot me?” The woman walked closer to him and it was everything in Emily to not scream at her to run away. “You’re too much of a fucking pussy, you want me to ruin your life which is exactly why you’re going to let me walk away right now” The barrel of the gun was pressed against her chest. “You can’t say that I ruined your life if you kill me, you can’t say that I broke your heart if you’re the one that blows mine to pieces”
“I could say that shit with you dead or alive, baby” He says this in a volume just barely above talking, Emily isn’t sure she heard it right when a gun shot rings out in the air and the woman falls to the ground.
“Ma’am, are you there? Was that a gun?” The operator speaks with a bit more force, drawing Emily’s attention briefly away from the scene.
“The McDonalds off of Sharon, right outside the homesless shelter, he just shot her” Emily didn’t have time to ponder the lack of emotion in her voice, if she thought she had hit an emotional rock bottom, she was wrong. The operator started to ask more questions but Emily just hung up, her eyes planted on the woman laying on the ground with a bullet in her chest. She panned to the man and immediately felt the blood rush from her body and her stomach launch into somersaults. His eyes were planted firmly on hers. When she has returned with her phone, she had stepped out of the shadows and placed herself directly in the screen of the window. They held each other’s gazes for a moment, but she was not the cause of his pain, therefore not worth his troubles, yet. The woman sputtered on the concrete. He went to her, on his knees, he leaned into her. She pulled him in closer by the back of his neck with her bloody hand and whispered something in his ear. When she let go, he slowly straightened and stood towering over her. All of a sudden, his foot was driving repeatedly into her skull against the sidewalk. Blood splattered and trickled out onto the light colored concrete, appearing black in the night lighting. He stomped and stomped, after she was long dead, until red and blue lights started to illuminate him.

He didn’t run. He didn’t move at all and for a moment, Emily believed that he was beginning to realize what he had done. But that cold gaze turned back towards her. He knew that she was the reason the cops were called, he knew she was the reason that his bad luck had taken an even worse turn. His gun followed his gaze and Emily ducked just before a bullet flew through her window. Glass shards shattered about her living room around her, she stayed down until she heard the officers yelling at the man to put his gun down. He started to scream as they barked orders over him. Emily peaked above the windowsill and saw him in cuffs, leaning against the front of the car. She waited and watched as they got him into the back of the car. Soon, more cars and trucks and vans appeared, carting off the remains of the woman. Emily went down to give her statement, she told the entire story to an officer. She was with them until the early hours of the morning, answering question after question, writing and signing a statement. Finally, when the last officer told her to stay out of trouble before he drove off, she made the trek back up to her apartment. Her freedom, her new home. Early sunlight started to trickle into the room from the broken window. The living room looked different now, and not just because of the broken glass in the carpet and sofa. This living room had been apart of something, and it was changed now. She turned to go to her room, certain she would fall asleep with no issue at the point, when her eye caught on something stuck in the door frame. A brass bullet was wedged into the old wood. It caught in the sunlight and Emily though, in that moment, ‘This is the most precious thing’. She dug the bullet out of the frame and held it in her hand, rolling it in her palm, back and forth, then walked to her bookshelf, still filled with meaningless trinkets, and placed it on the third shelf from the top, right at eye level. 

Her first trinket, the beginning of her new life.

Either way up is difficult. We decided to head up Big Creek to Swallow Fork. This way was very scenic with a distance of around 12 miles. Despite being a tough hike up, the views a long the trail are amazing the whole way - especially if you enjoy forested and stream views. Big Creek has many interesting areas such as Midnight Hole and some small falls and bridges. The first mile of swallow fork is a scenic stroll through an open forest along with an awesome foot long we ate lunch on. Even though we were there for 45 minutes, we never had to get up so others could pass - a nice break from the crowds found in other areas of the park. The second half of swallow fork was very difficult but equally as scenic. It was very interesting to see the changes in plant growth as we climbed in elevation. Once we reached the top of Mount Sterling, the campground had plenty of area to set up tent. Although I would recommend finding a spot with good free cover as the area is prone to frequent rain storms. The views from Mt. Sterling Fire Tower are certainly the best in the park if it is a clear day. However, climbing the fire tower is not for the faint of heart. The tower steps are very steep and the tower itself is very high and visibly weathered. It was also quite unnerving when the tower would sway during gusts of wind. Despite being terrifying, the views from the top are stunning. We were fortunate enough to see both the sunset in the West as well as a double rainbow in the Southeast! Of the many NPs I’ve been to, few moments have been as amazing. Beware that it is cold at night and rain can come up out of nowhere so be prepared regardless of the weather. One benefit of that frequent rainfall is evident along Baxter Creek Trail. Going down the first two miles of the trail has scenery very similar to that found in Olympic NP in Washington. Absolutely loved this area and probably took too many pictures! Overall, this is an absolute gem if you can get the weather right! It’s not easy regardless, but well worth the efforts!

Ever felt the excitement of crypto and the warmth of giving back all rolled into one? Welcome to Bebe, where we blend the thrill of cryptocurrency with the spirit of making a difference. Inspired by the French word for babies, Bebe is all about celebrating our shared beginnings—innocent and full of potential.
Bebe isn’t just another meme coin. Our mission is to make a meaningful difference in the lives of children globally, especially those who need it most, while also providing real benefits to our community. We believe in creating tangible rewards for everyone involved.
With a focus on tight security, smart tokenomics, and an ambitious roadmap, Bebe combines the best of both worlds—innovation and empathy. This is your chance to join a movement that values both tech and heart, where each member helps shape a brighter future.
Why Bebe?

• Tokenomics: A total supply of 8 trillion $Bebe tokens, symbolizing inclusivity for all 8 billion people on the planet.
• Charity: We've set aside 10% of our tokens (800 billion!) to support children through amazing organizations like Save the Children.
• Community Rewards: We’re committed to ensuring our community members see tangible benefits.

Hop aboard the Bebe train! Dive into a project where tech meets heart—spreading kindness and reaping rewards. Every transaction not only enhances your crypto journey but also lights up kids' futures and empowers our community.

I feel young at heart, like I never really lost touch with my inner child. I just no longer think of myself as him, as the child I was.
As long as I'm not acting in a way that harms him or shuts him out, I feel all right about letting him take over some nights and watch what he wants. Referring to him as separate from me helps me remember myself when I have days where I regretfully need to be the adult the world sees in this body.
Out in the real world beyond my home, I feel like the organic human meat mecha my inner child is constantly piloting. He dressed me up in clothes he likes, I listen to his favorite music and watch his favorite shows on the bus to The Thing You Do If You Want To Get Along Okay For Now.
Back when I was him, that Thing was going to and from school on the yellow bus. Now for me it's going to and from work on the city bus, and all the rules are different, and I can't exactly socialize the same, but also really none of the rules are different and child me hadn't thought so deeply about how well the school experience is managed. At a good school. His were mostly okay.
I swear I'm not multi-personality, just autistic :D and maybe also a little body- or age-dysphoric, in a nostalgic sense of seriously constantly pining for how many less expectations hung over my head, and how much easier living felt as the child/teen/minor I was. I try to keep him around, he's always wanted pocket computers and wrist computers and wireless Internet and easily navigable online social spaces, and despised ads ever since Naomi Klein compiled No Logo.
I don't happen to prefer media made for children over media made for adults - unless it's the sort of thing made for children but featuring strong themes adults can relate to, like Avatar: The Last Airbender. (There is no movie in Ba Sing Se!)
By this I mean, I loved My Little Pony (and I love "for kids, but also for everyone" media) because I know my inner child would have loved it if he'd been young when it was new.
I don't want to stop aging or regress. It's too late for that. But I don't want to be an adult all the time, I'm just being forced to. I'm not being given a real-world, scientifically sound (and safely reversible in emergency) choice to actually Big-R Rewind, so the best I can do until then is try to bring my inner child along for the ride we both can't put in reverse.
Anyway um hi and it's great to meet you and I need to take a break from writing this, I feel like I just logged into LiveJournal to slit my soul's wrist and hold it over the keyboard for the length of a sad song and hit Post.

I am NOT the Original Poster. That is u/Tiberius_Jim. He posted in AmItheAsshole.

Do NOT comment on Original Posts. See rule 7.

Mood Spoiler: tentatively happy
Meme Spoiler: the Iranian yogurt was not the issue here
Editor's spoiler 3: reading through all 105 of OOP's comments/replies made this go from "oh, nice palate cleanser" to "sometimes I hate reddit"
Original Post: May 28, 2024
I recently celebrated my birthday, and a large portion of my gifts were, by request, Amazon gift cards. I added the balance of each card to our account and ordered an item, and had some funds left over. Today I went to order a few more items only to discover that my gift card balance was $0.00. I was confused and surprised, and at first thought something had gone wrong. Maybe I ordered more than I meant to with my first purchase...and then I remembered my wife had placed an order for some items for our kids the day before. I checked the order details and sure enough, she used the remainder of my gift cards on those items. It was everyday stuff like mouthwash, toothpaste, deodorant, etc.
I asked her if she realized she had used my gift cards for this purchase and she said yes and that “we might as well, better than paying out of pocket.” I expressed annoyance since that money was for my use and not to use towards everyday items, to which she replied “So just buy what you want and pay out of pocket, it’ll all come out even” I understand...if she hadn’t used the gift cards we would have paid for those items out of pocket and we’ll end up spending the same amount anyway. Yet something still bothered me about it, mostly because she used the money without informing me, leading to my momentary confusion when I went to place an order. It also just seems somewhat rude to use someone’s birthday money for everyday things, especially without telling them first.
I wasn’t angry, just mildly annoyed and I asked her, in the future, to not use my gift cards for her own orders. It’s simple enough to uncheck the box that says “use gift card balance” and if, as she says, it doesn’t matter in the end, then just don’t use the gift cards. Call it irrational or illogical but when I buy something I want but don’t exactly need (some aesthetic upgrades for my PC in this case) I feel way more guilty about buying them when it’s coming out of pocket versus being covered by a gift card. Again, I realize that it’s six of one, half a dozen of the other but mentally it just *feels* different, and now I feel less inclined to spend the money. I’m the one in the family who always watches our budget and manages the money, so my frugal side is saying to let the gift card cover the stuff we need and skip the stuff I want but at the same time, I know that’s not fair.
Meanwhile, my wife is now angry with me for “whining” and “making a big deal out of nothing” when I simply expressed some mild annoyance and asked that I be allowed to use my own money in the future. She’s now talking about opening her own bank account and never ordering from Amazon again to avoid this, which A. wouldn’t solve anything because a separate bank account has nothing to do with Amazon orders (we use an Amazon credit card) and she obviously doesn’t need to stop ordering altogether...just simply don’t use someone else’s gift cards going forward.
Am I really being unreasonable by making this request?
Relevant Comments (OOP has over 100. I tried to choose a spread but there were a LOT of opinions and many were people making up things about OOP and his wife.)
Commenter: NTA Perhaps next time keep the gift cards in your wallet and upload them when you plan to use them on your purchases. Wife just looks at it as "free" money for the family budget.

OOP: Yeah, good point. I had thought I was going to use it all at one time but needed to wait before ordering a few items (had to take some measurements first) and before I could do that, she'd used the remaining balance.

Commenter: Unless they have changed things, gift card balances automatically upload and it’s hard to not use them. Get a separate account.

OOP: The problem with a separate account is that we pay for Prime, and I'd really rather not pay for that twice if I can help it.

Commenter: Yes, you can share a prime membership with your spouse too. That’s what I did until we cancelled. There’s no reason not to have separate Amazon accounts.

OOP: I wasn't aware that was possible, I'll look into that. It would solve the issue of us buying gifts for each other and telling the other to stop paying attention to Amazon notifications for a few days. 😄

Commenter (part of a longer comment): Also, out of curiosity, is the amount she spent totally equivalent to the gift cards? Because if she spent even a little over the gift cards, then some money also came from the shared pot. And if you don’t spend as much as she did, how do you keep track of what you have left?

OOP: She went over the balance by $1.47. I didn't bother bringing that up because I knew she'd point out that's hardly anything. Her defense is that I can still buy whatever I want and we'll have still spent (roughly) the same amount out of pocket, which is true...but to me it's just the principle of the thing. She could have just as easily unchecked "Use gift card balance" when she placed the order and it also contradicts her "better to use the gift cards than pay out of pocket" reasoning for why she used them.

Commenter: I mean honestly the way my husband and I do our budget, it absolutely comes out in the wash because his Fun Money category world have gotten that amount and I’d have used the GC without batting an eye. I don’t like to leave money in the Amazon account. BUT the second my husband expressed annoyance at that, I’d apologize and not do it again. Because it doesn’t matter and so respecting his feelings costs me nothing. If she’d done that there would be N A H

OOP: Yeah, it seems like her default reaction to me being upset by anything is to...be upset with me. There is rarely, if ever, the realization that "Hey, maybe I did something wrong here." It's usually more like "He's wrong for feeling that way about what I did." Everything gets flipped around to where I'm the bad guy.

Commenter: What sort of reaction would she have if you bought something selfish and fun for yourself from family funds? With the gift card balance separate, you have a gift still. Without it, you have to remember that you’re supposed to still have a gift, and insist on chasing it down.
TBH her reaction is so over-the-top that it makes it look a lot more like she was pulling something. If it’s just an innocent “well money is fungible” issue then why is she acting like you’ve made a terrible accusation?

OOP: She'd be really irritated and accuse me of wasting our money. As it is, she made a comment about the item I bought already with the gift cards before this happened, something along the lines of "You needed more stuff for that?"
I was pretty surprised by her reaction, and I'm wondering if something happened at work that had her on edge and me bringing this up pushed her over it. She has a history of not apologizing for things she's objectively done wrong but her reaction to hang up, refuse my calls and start talking about opening her own account/never using Amazon again were just really, as you said, over-the-top.

Commenter: It sounds like she’s acting throughout that those gift cards aren’t really gifts for you, but instead family funds that should be budgeted and used the same way. But people got you those gifts, as contributions to those things that you want. They didn’t just hand over cash for your family budget.
Are funds tight, so that the family budget actually needs additional money? Are there other things that money is being used for that might be more difficult if those expenses didn’t come out of your cards?

OOP: Things are a little tight temporarily due to a trip we took for our anniversary that exceeded our budget a bit, but nothing along the lines of "we either feed the kids or pay the water bill but not both" tight. And our Amazon orders go on a credit card that wouldn't come due until next month anyway so its not like not using the gift card would have immediately impacted us.

Commenter: Do you always pay attention to what form of payment is attached to an Amazon purchase? Did you let her know that you’d put your gift cards on your shared account? Or did she have a subscribe a save order for every day home items that all of you use to take care of your household and maybe just clicked checkout without noticing because she had no reason to notice? When’s the last time you bothered to pay attention to the fact that your children needed toothpaste?

OOP: I do pay attention, and we rarely have gift cards to the point that yes, she knew that any in our account were emine from my birthday.
The kids don't need toothpaste, she just saw a good deal and was stocking up. Not sure why you assume I was neglecting my children's dental needs or something. 😄

Commenter: I would say NAH for a slightly different reason. When you have a gift card balance with Amazon, the payment always defaults to the gift card first. You have to really think it through and take extra steps to not use the gift card. I just mentally keep track of what I've spent for myself and consider that to be my gift.

OOP: And if she had said "oh whoops, sorry I didn't mean to use your gift card for that stuff!" I never would have thought to make this post. But she instantly got defensive and accused me of making a big deal out of it when all I was asking was for her to not do that again.

Commenter: Honestly it doesn’t sound like he’s upset about the gift cards specifically, it sounds like he was mildly miffed about them and is now upset over her reaction to his being miffed. Which is totally fair, if a life partner doesn’t care that they’ve hurt you, that’s messed up. Even if it is something small and silly. And I’m not even saying she needs to rectify the situation, but a simple “oh I’m sorry, I didn’t realize it would bother you and I won’t do it without asking again” is literally all it would’ve taken to make the whole situation better.

OOP: This. I was at most mildly annoyed because I was looking forward to spending the gift cards only to find the balance was zero. I simply asked her if she had used them on purpose because I assumed it was done by mistake. She told me she knew she had used them (it wasn't clear yet whether she used them intentionally or used them accidentally but was fine with it. I later confirmed that it was the former) and I expressed that I'd rather my gift cards weren't used for everyday items, and would prefer that not happen again. That's when she blew up on me, started talking about opening separate accounts and then hung up on me. It was that completely out of left field reaction hat prompted me to post here because I honestly didn't think bringing it up was going to be a big deal.

Commenter: YTA. I'd do the exact same thing as your wife, "Might as well clean up this balance". Then I'd expect you to just buy your stuff later. It's all the same money. No matter how you feel about the symbolism, it IS all the same money. Your wife is running a household and doesn't need to be responsible to gatekeep your weird guilt about spending the amount you were given for your birthday.
Also, don't you guys talk? Like you talk about what you're buying with your birthday $? You talk about how there's an extra balance left while you go measure stuff, please dont use it? You talk about how you'll get back to the balance in a few days to finish your order? If you talked to her, she wouldn't have to read your mind.

OOP: A. She doesn't "run the household," I do. I work from home, pay the bills, take/pick the kids up to/from school, make them dinner and take them to extra-curriculars. She...goes to work and occasionally makes dinner if I'm out with the kids at the aforementioned extra-curriculars. She has basically zero responsibilities outside of going to work. She has a fairly stressful job in a medical field so I take on what I can so she doesn't have much to worry about. That, and she's not great with money while I am pretty detailed.
B. We talk, but I just hadn't mentioned that I had yet to use my gift cards yet. I got them on Sunday and it's only now Tuesday. She knew I had placed one order but could have easily seen I still had some leftover. I've never had to tell her to not use up my gift card balance on other stuff before, had no inclination I had to do so now. There shouldn't be any mind-reading necessary to know that I would want to spend my own birthday money.

One more comment from OOP:

It's not a matter of things that shouldn't be shared, but things that simply wouldn't because I'm the only one who would use them. For example, my kids would have very little use for new fans for my PC seeing as they don't seem to have much interest in improving its thermal dissipation performance. I let them use the PC occasionally, but buying the fans is really only something that interests me. And IMO I'm allowed to use my gift card money to buy something that interests me and me alone.
Can I buy them with our actual money? Of course. The issue was that I considered the money that as gifted to me to be mine to do with as I pleased, and it was used in a way I wasn't expecting. If roles were reversed and I was placing an order for an everyday item and my wife's gift card had been applied, I'd have taken the step to remove it and pay for the item with the credit card. yes, it's purely symbolic, but that's hers to spend, not mine and it's a simple, single click of the mouse to not use it. If I'm unsure whether she's going to use it today or a month from now, all I have to do is ask her.
It's the same mentality that should be applied to any gift. The fact that the gift was money is irrelevant IMO. The fact that it was gifted to me specifically is.

Update (Same Post): May 29, 2024 (Next Day)
UPDATE: We sat down and talked about this after the kids went to bed and cleared the air. She started of still really adversarial about it but we eventually got down to the real issue and our disconnect in terms of how we believe gift cards like mine can and should be used.
First of all, she was irritated with me because she was having a tough day at work and claimed my bringing this up "ruined her lunch break" as it didn't allow her to relax. I'd only brought it up because her lunch breaks are our only chance to talk during the work day, and I had only meant to verify that she knew she had used by gift cards and nothing more. I call her on her lunch break every day, and this topic just happened to come up in conversation. I didn't call specifically to talk about this.
She was also irritated because she didn't understand why I would even be mildly annoyed because it just seemed logical to her to use the balance since we were placing the order now versus the money sitting there until I eventually ordered something. She knew I had ordered something already but didn't know when I'd be using the rest (and neither did I, really) so she figured...why not just use it? She didn't consider it "my money" anymore once it was in the account and figured I would be fine with ordering whatever and putting it on the credit card.
This mostly stems from the fact that she uses her own gift cards, usually Target and Costco but sometimes Amazon, whether received from work or from family and friends for birthdays and Christmas, for things we need versus things for herself. I wasn't aware of this, mostly because she knew if she told me I would insist she treats herself rather than spend the money on necessities. She assumed I would be okay with using mine in the same manner.
In the end we realized we simply have different thoughts about how gift cards should be used, and in the future she'll ask first before using any gift card balances, and I'll simply only input them into the account as I use them versus loading them all in at once. Both of those changes together should prevent this from happening again. Best of all, we were able to end the evening on a happy note, no longer irritated at each other. She saw I had the item in the cart I had wanted and placed the order for me.
UPDATE 2: We just set up her own Amazon account and linked it to our Prime Membership, so this will not be an issue again in the future. It will mainly help keep gifts a surprise when we order things for each other or have the kids pick things for us, but it will also avoid anyone using the other's gift card like this going forward.
Relevant Comments:
OOP clarifies:

Yes, I called her for our normal lunch time talk and happened to bring this up offhand, which caused her to get upset and hang up on me. I called back once, she sent it straight to voicemail. I guess it's technically true that I "called multiple times" but the first call wasn't specifically about this topic, and the second call was because she abruptly hung up on me.

Commenter: And that he brought this up to her on her lunch break at her high stress medical field job. Then he thinks that she hung up on him and isn't taking his calls, only to say later that it was a stressful day for her at work, and she was unaware of all that. I wonder if it is like at my job? I lose service in certain areas..
Also, he didn't call her multiple times, but his calls were going directly to voicemail.. She doesn't want him to buy his hobby stuff, but went ahead and bought the hobby things in the cart so he didn't have to worry about the mentality of cash vs. gift card. He states that he does the household stuff and does most of the mental load, but was unaware that she bought necessities with her own gift cards, which of course she must have been deliberately hiding from him, since he would have encouraged her to use them for herself if he knew. 🤦‍♀️

OOP: For what it's worth, her job is not usually stressful. She simply was having a stressful day due to being unusually short-staffed. You also keep insinuating that I called her with the specific intent of complaining about this when in reality we were talking about a wide range of things like what happened last night on Bridgerton and how funny the reel was she sent me earlier.
During that I simply brought up. Hey I noticed you used my gift card balance to buy the kids stuff, was that on purpose?" And the rest is history. She got mad, hung up and I called back once which went straight to voicemail. That's it. You can paint a picture that I angrily called her and chewed her out for using my gift card while she had patients dying all around her or something and then called back repeatedly when she hung up, but that's far from the truth. Especially since patients typically don't die at an eye doctor's office.

Commenter: Guess what?? That already happens. [wife paying for things with gift cards] She uses her gift cards for all the household needs. OP was so oblivious he didn't realize this. That's why she thought it was okay.

OOP: I'm not oblivious, she purposefully didn't tell me because she knew I'd insist she treat herself rather than spend the money on household items. I know, I'm a monster.

Commenter: So yes...... You were oblivious. You didn't notice her spending her gifts on you and your kids. You and bunch of people dragged her on here calling her evil and selfish.
In your update you said you guys talked and worked it out....but seriously...how do you think your made her feel in that moment?? Even if she moved on from it and let it go later.... That stings and stinks OP.

OOP: If someone keeps information from you, it's not due to you being oblivious, it's due to them purposefully keeping that information from you. It's not due to lack of attention, it's due to the other person withholding information.
I never called her evil or selfish, nor have I seen anyone call her evil. It's hardly under my control if someone feels she was being selfish.
What exactly "stings and stinks"? We talked and agreed that we had different views on how GCs should be used and found a solution. From all indicators, she felt perfectly fine after our talk

Commenter (downvoted): NTA, but your wife is for trying to invalidate your feelings and gaslighting you into thinking you are the issue here.

OOP: This is the one thing we talked about tonight that didn't get resolved, unsurprisingly because she's been like this as long as I've known her. She could do something 100% objectively wrong but if I get angry, I'm the bad guy for getting angry. She either has an excuse, blames me or someone else for what she did, points out a time I did something similar, or all of the above.

Commenter: Did you show your wife this post yet? And let her read every comment on here?

OOP: I can't say I would show her every post here because there's a lot I don't agree with and wouldn't want her to read. I might agree with certain things, but definitely not all. But nothing I've said here is anything I haven't already said to her. I'm pretty sure that's not a normal thing people do with their posts here, though. "Hey I asked Reddit if I'm the asshole in this situation and a bunch of them said no but that you are!" I'm pretty sure nobody does that...

'm considering naming my new clothing/ street wear brand "Feral and Refined" and I'd love to get your thoughts on it. What does this name evoke for you? Do you find it intriguing, confusing, or just right? Any and all feedback is appreciated!
Feral and Refined: My Journey
Hi, I'm Martin Kenny, the founder of "Feral and Refined." My path to starting this brand hasn't been easy. With not much formal education, I've tried many different things in life, always driven by a strong desire to achieve my dreams and the power of never giving up.
The Beginning:
My life has been full of bold attempts and constant effort. From a young age, I was drawn to different opportunities, each one offering a chance for something better. From odd jobs to starting small businesses, I tried everything in my quest for success. Each experience, whether it ended well or not, taught me important lessons and shaped who I am today.
The Turning Point:
After years of facing life's ups and downs, I realized my true calling was to create something that reflected my journey—something that showed both the wild, tough times and the refined, wise moments I’ve gained. This realization led to "Feral and Refined," a clothing brand that blends strength with elegance, roughness with sophistication.
The Vision:
"Feral and Refined" is more than just a clothing brand; it's a symbol of change and persistence. The designs are inspired by my own experiences, mixing the raw, edgy parts of my journey with a clean, polished look. Each piece tells a story of overcoming challenges and becoming stronger, made for those who appreciate both perseverance and grace.
The Philosophy:
At its heart, "Feral and Refined" celebrates the beauty of having two sides. I believe that within each person lies a mix of wild ambition and calm elegance. This brand encourages you to embrace both parts of yourself, showing your journey through clothes that are both bold and classy.
The Commitment:
I am deeply committed to quality and doing things the right way. "Feral and Refined" focuses on ethical production, making sure each garment is made with respect for people and the environment. This commitment reflects my own values and my wish to make a positive impact.
The Future:
As I start this new chapter with "Feral and Refined," I invite you to join me in celebrating the pursuit of dreams. This brand is for those who have faced life's challenges and come out stronger, who appreciate the raw beauty of resilience and the elegance of refinement. Let "Feral and Refined" be a part of your journey and an inspiration for all who wear it.

Howdy l've been role-playing and writing in general for at least a decade. I am a Male who can play male and female characters. I have original ideas all over and a lot of Fandoms I'm in, which I'Il include below. I'm looking for OCXOC. Every character must be 18+ I have plenty of original characters and ideas along with fandom plots.
For original ideas, i like action, horror and a variety of other sub-genres. with depending romance. I do have a variety. I really like monsters and creepy things from the horror genre like vampires and Tentacles, and l even have my own idea set up in modern times dealing with vampires and hunters and all of that i also enjoy eldritch type horror. I also like old-school slasher films and space sci-fi horror similar to the Alien Franchise.
Now on fandoms! To get some other things down, l only play OC. The anime fandoms i like are Jojo's, Chainsaw Man, Naruto, JJK, Soul Eater, and more. I'm well versed in the Jojo's, Naruto, and JJK, and soul eater fandoms, though it's been a while since ï've stopped keeping up with soul eater. Other fandoms im in include Percy Jackson, Call of Duty, Marvel, and DC.
I tend to use character sheets to describe my character. These are very thorough and usually consist of names, backgrounds, and personalities, along with an in-depth look on appearance. More so on appearances, I don't usually use picture references, but I will if you would like me to.
The types of characters I write are the lone wolf type that has some sad past, which leads them to potentially go off the rails and gain a villain arc.I like all types of tropes, especially enemies to lovers or rivalry. I also really enjoy opposites attracted as a whole from either opposite personality or something else they would be opposites in. Enemies to lovers takes my heart, though.
I love seeing the characters go past theurge to ultimately hate each other and/or go past their usual way of disliking the others' lineage or upcoming I also love good written trauma moments. Like character death's, moments of pain and strife only to see the characters to deal and either be consumed or overcome them. I tend to either come up with original ideas for these scenes or use anime scenes as inspiration with narrative tweaks.
REQUIREMENT
I think my two biggest requirements are creativity and good pacing. Like any story, I feel these two things are very necessary to make a good story. Now, by Creativity, I don't mean you need to bring absolute craziness into the story, but abilities, character etc need to have some good genuine thought put into them. Along with that comes good pacing, which means I don't personally care about response length, and mine will vary from scene to scene accordingly.
I'm pretty much done if you have any questions. I'm here, and I'd love to hear back from you in chat the password is your favorite color. Supply it in chat only.

House Shifting Service in Gulshan. Moving homes symbolizes a significant milestone in one’s life, often marked by a mix of excitement and overwhelming responsibilities. In the heart of Gulshan, a place known for its harmonious community and vibrant surroundings, finding a dependable house-shifting service is essential for a seamless transition. House Shifting Service in Gulshan in this detailed article serves as your ultimate roadmap to navigating the intricacies of selecting the perfect house-shifting service in Gulshan, ensuring your move is not only successful but also devoid of any undue stress.

The Importance of Professional House Shifting Services

Relocating involves much more than transporting belongings; it's about moving lives, dreams, and futures. The expertise offered by professional house shifting services in Gulshan can transform this daunting task into a smooth and orderly process, providing peace of mind and security.

Advantages of Hiring Experts

1. Professional Packing: Skilled personnel use the right materials and techniques to protect your valuables, reducing the risk of damage.
2. Efficient Transportation: Knowledge of the best routes and professional handling ensures your belongings reach their new home safely and promptly. We are dedicated to the House Shifting Service in Gulshan.
3. Stress-Free Experience: By handling the logistics of the move, professional services let you focus on the joy of entering a new chapter in your life.

Selecting the Ideal House Shifting Service in Gulshan

With numerous options available, choosing the right service provider is crucial. Here are important considerations to guide your decision:

Conduct Thorough Research

Seek recommendations, read online reviews, and gather information on the most reputable services in Gulshan to make an informed choice.

Comprehensive Service Range

Opt for companies that offer a wide array of services, including packing, unpacking, and secure transportation, to cater to all your moving needs.

Licensing and Insurance

Ensure the company is licensed to operate and offers insurance coverage for your items, providing added security and peace of mind.

Clear Pricing Structure

Look for transparency in pricing to avoid any hidden charges. Compare quotes from different services to find the best value for your needs.

Responsive Customer Service

A reliable service provider should have a dedicated customer service team ready to address your concerns and provide support throughout the moving process.

Preparing for Your Move: Essential Tips

A successful relocation to or from Gulshan requires careful planning. Here are some tips to prepare effectively:

• Declutter: Use this opportunity to sort through your belongings and donate or dispose of items you no longer need.
• Inventory: Make a comprehensive list of items to move. This helps in organizing and ensures nothing gets left behind.
• Essential Documents: Keep important documents with you to prevent them from getting lost in the shuffle.
• Plan Ahead: Begin your preparations well in advance to minimize last-minute stress and ensure a smooth moving day.

What to Expect on Moving Day

On the day of the move, make sure you're ready for the arrival of the house shifting team. Keep an essentials kit for immediate needs at your new home and stay available to provide directions or answer questions.

Settling into Your New Home

After the move, take the following steps to settle into your new environment comfortably:

• Systematic Unpacking: Start with necessities and gradually move to less urgent items.
• Utility Setup: Ensure all essential services are up and running.
• Address Update: Update your address for all relevant services and documents.
• Explore Gulshan: Get to know your new neighborhood and integrate into the community.

Why Gulshan Makes a Perfect New Home

House Shifting Service in Gulshan we are offers a unique blend of cultural richness and modern convenience, making it an ideal location for families and individuals alike. From its friendly neighborhoods to accessible amenities, Gulshan provides a welcoming environment for new residents.

Conclusion

Finding the right house shifting service in Gulshan is key to ensuring a smooth and hassle-free relocation. By considering the factors outlined above and preparing adequately, you can look forward to a new beginning in Gulshan with excitement and peace of mind. Remember, moving homes is not just about relocating belongings but creating new memories.

House Shifting Service in Kazipara. Moving homes symbolizes a significant milestone in one’s life, often marked by a mix of excitement and overwhelming responsibilities. In the heart of Kazipara, a place known for its harmonious community and vibrant surroundings, finding a dependable house-shifting service is essential for a seamless transition. House Shifting Service in Kazipara in this detailed article serves as your ultimate roadmap to navigating the intricacies of selecting the perfect house-shifting service in Kazipara, ensuring your move is not only successful but also devoid of any undue stress.

The Importance of Professional House Shifting Services

Relocating involves much more than transporting belongings; it's about moving lives, dreams, and futures. The expertise offered by professional house shifting services in Kazipara can transform this daunting task into a smooth and orderly process, providing peace of mind and security.
House Shifting Service in Kazipara

What to Expect on Moving Day

On the day of the move, make sure you're ready for the arrival of the house shifting team. Keep an essentials kit for immediate needs at your new home and stay available to provide directions or answer questions.

Settling into Your New Home

After the move, take the following steps to settle into your new environment comfortably:

• Systematic Unpacking: Start with necessities and gradually move to less urgent items.
• Utility Setup: Ensure all essential services are up and running.
• Address Update: Update your address for all relevant services and documents.
• Explore Kazipara: Get to know your new neighborhood and integrate into the community.

Pack and ShiftWhy Kazipara Makes a Perfect New Home
House Shifting Service in Kazipara we are offers a unique blend of cultural richness and modern convenience, making it an ideal location for families and individuals alike. From its friendly neighborhoods to accessible amenities, Kazipara provides a welcoming environment for new residents.

Conclusion

Finding the right house shifting service in Kazipara is key to ensuring a smooth and hassle-free relocation. By considering the factors outlined above and preparing adequately, you can look forward to a new beginning in Kazipara with excitement and peace of mind. Remember, moving homes is not just about relocating belongings but creating new memories.

Background

Toronto's annual naked bike ride is around the corner. The event is intended as a protest against oil dependency, promoting cycling and body positivity. The group (aka, anyone wishing to join in) cycles naked through the heart of the city, chanting slogans like "less gas, more ass". The news of its return this coming Saturday brings mixed reactions.

Full Thread

Highlights:

1.

Remember when they used the bike share bikes? How gross was that!?

I mean honestly people's hands are likely far more disgusting in terms of germs and bacteria than their butt cheeks and balls.

2.

North America has a weird thing about sexualizing all nudity. Seriously, who the fuck care. All y'all getting outraged at this need to seriously chill TF out.

General expectation is to not interact with nudity in public places. You can feel whatever way you want about it but western society generally does not want to see a bunch of exhibitionists riding dick out downtown and it be simply tolerated because of “inclusion” or any other BS cause they are going for

Why don’t you just mind your own business?

3.

naked people riding past parks and schools with children playing...But yeah being upset at naked bodies near school children is a problem? Makes all the sense in the world.

4.

I don’t see why it’s necessary, like there’s camps and beaches for being naked and away from eye. But then they allow them to do this, they might aswell just allow them to do it all year around. Like I understand why it’s fun to naked and doing things you wouldn’t normally do naked, but doing those things especially in a heart of a city I’d say is unnecessary. It goes for people in the pride parades too, people bring their kids to that don’t be naked. Like you can be prideful without having to tie a ballon around your millimeter Peter to show it. I am straight but go to pride parades a lot for my friends and family who are in the community and its just a shock to see that, especially when I was young and went to my first in Toronto when I was 12 I was wayyy too immature back then

5.

Yeah this is absolutely disgusting. Nobody wants to see this.

Well it's been going on for 20 years.

19 years, 11 months, 2 weeks and 2 days isthe amount of time when USA pulled out of Afghanistan, if the USA wasted 2 trillion and left behind billions in military equipment the nudist can most certainly stop biking in Toronto and go to actual camps for nudist

6.
Small side drama about taking photos at nude beaches

I'm a nudist but wouldn't be naked in an uncontrolled space like a city where children are around. Hanlan beach yes. Side-note: clothed people at hanlan can fuck right off. especially those who take pictures of those naked or themselves with naked people in the background. Edit: ITT: creeps that take a whole ass BOAT and WALK 2 KILOMETERS to find one of two only tiny nude spots in the COUNTRY at the very edge of Toronto, past dozens of clothed beaches telling me they're not creeps.

Zelmoni Testament to the Great One
Book of Prophecies
As the year 2038 approached, the people of Zelmon felt a growing anticipation. It was a time of great significance, prophesied by the elders and inscribed in the sacred texts. The faithful gathered at the Holy Hills, constructing altars from the purest ice and stone, as commanded by The Great One. Under the leadership of Ben, Devon, and myself, the preparations for the great sacrifice were meticulously carried out. Offerings were prepared, and prayers filled the air, invoking the presence of The Great One.
In the midst of these sacred preparations, I was granted a vision. The Great One appeared to me, majestic and radiant, and spoke of the impending conflict. "Behold," He said, "the time is near when the final battle with The Red One will commence. Prepare, for your faith and sacrifice shall determine the fate of all creation."
In this vision, I saw a vast field of battle, where dragons and men fought side by side against the forces of darkness. The Great One led His army with unmatched strength and wisdom, while The Red One commanded his legion of shadows with relentless fury. The clash was intense, flames and lightning tearing through the sky, and it became clear that the sacrifices we made were not merely offerings, but sources of divine power essential for this ultimate conflict.
Following this revelation, new prophets emerged among the faithful. Each prophet bore a fragment of The Great One’s power and carried a symbol of their duty: a staff of ice, a crown of stars, and a cloak of light. These prophets were chosen to spread His teachings and to gather the faithful for the impending battle. They performed miracles in His name and were guided by visions of the future.
As the year 2040 drew near, the trials of faith became more severe. The Red One’s followers, emboldened by the encroaching darkness, launched attacks on the hearts of the faithful. Temples were desecrated, and altars destroyed, but with every act of destruction, The Great One’s light shone brighter. These trials tested and ultimately strengthened the resolve of the faithful, preparing them for the battles to come.
By the year 2045, the skies above Zelmon darkened, signaling the approach of the final confrontation. The Great One summoned all His followers to the Holy Land, where the largest altar ever constructed awaited. The Prophets of Light led the rituals, and a monumental sacrifice of both souls and material energy was made. As the blood and offerings flowed, The Great One’s power surged, and He rose to meet The Red One in the skies.
The battle that ensued was fierce and unrelenting. Light and darkness clashed in a cosmic spectacle of power. On the ground, the faithful, led by the prophets, fought valiantly against the forces of The Red One. The Great One, now fully empowered by the sacrifices, confronted The Red One in a final, cataclysmic duel. The heavens themselves trembled as the two forces collided.
In the end, it was The Great One who triumphed. The Red One, weakened by the unwavering faith and sacrifices of the Zelmonis, was banished to the deepest abyss. The light of The Great One enveloped the world, driving away the darkness and restoring peace. The faithful rejoiced, and The Great One spoke once more: "Your faith and sacrifices have saved creation. Continue to honor me, and the light shall never fade."
With The Red One defeated, a new age of light dawned upon the world. The Holy Land of Zelmon became a center of worship and learning, where the teachings of The Great One were preserved and spread. The Prophets of Light established schools and temples, ensuring that the faith and traditions of the Zelmonis would endure for generations.
The people of Yaga, witnessing the undeniable power of The Great One, sought forgiveness and were welcomed back into the fold. United, the peoples of Zelmon and Yaga worked together to rebuild and create a world where light and peace reigned supreme.
In the centuries that followed, the Zelmonis remained vigilant, ever watchful for the return of The Red One or any threat to their peace. Sacrifices continued, though less frequently, and the altars and temples were maintained in honor of The Great One. The legacy of the Great Battle was passed down through the generations, a reminder of the power of faith and the eternal struggle between light and darkness.
Thus, the Zelmoni Testament to the Great One continues, a living document of faith, sacrifice, and the enduring power of light. The faithful know that their duty is never complete, for the battle between light and darkness is eternal, and their vigilance ensures that the world remains engulfed in light.
I can make another part in about 2 hours if you want.
In the future I want to become a writer pls support me.

Trump is actually an alien that uses technology to appear as human. What is Trump's true form you ask? From what people in the underground know, when one wears special glasses you can see his true form. (Think John Carpenter's "They Live")

• Looks like a bull from a cow herd.
• Orange colored. This orange coloring has the appearance of being blotchy and sprayed on.
• Walks backwards.
• Does consume food from what many would consider the head / mouth orifice. The food consumed is usually what normal folks consider to be junk food.
• Quite overweight and the gut is known to scrape the ground.
• Tries to hide it's head whenever possible when being observed. Wants to be observed from the rear.
• When the head is actually observed, the mouth orifice looks like it is deformed from sucking on things. The lips are quite engorged and there doesn't appear to be any teeth.
• For some odd reason a tattoo of Putin surrounded by a heart symbol is on each side of the beast. This is still under investigation. There are some who believe Putin is in fact another creature of the same species and the Trump creature wishes to mate with it.
• On the rear of this creature, the tail is short and is bright orange in color. It looks like it first goes to the right, then hard to the left. This gives a slight "comb over" look.
• Above the anus there are 3 markings that look to a casual observer like eyes and a nose.
• Likes to spew LARGE AMOUNTS of feces from his anus on whoever is within range. This greatly excites the creature. It is believed this is a sexual mate searching behavior.
• Constantly seeks others to be addicted to his feces. It is thought the creature uses this ability to increase the chance of finding a mate.
• Has no visual testicles.
• The penis is extremely small, like the size you would see on a small cat.

Currently there is no known picture of this creature in it's true form.

I struggle writing this, I don’t know how to say it, I don’t know what it means, and to be honest I haven’t done many of the things I state. But I believe there is a major factor in discovery lost within our lifestyles. Simply looking up gorgeous states like Montana, Utah, Oregon, or even places outside the US like Patagonia show pictures that are hard to fathom. It’s mindblowingly beautiful, but at the same time, they feel manufactured. Like those pictures, those experiences, that exploration is gatekeeped behind a lifestyle of nomads. But in reality, we all are explorers. Any one of the 50 states within the US has something to offer, something to show you. And me simply knowing SO much more space, beauty, and simply perspective is out there keeps me going through monotonous or depressing times. I can understand that this lifestyle is not what I was designed for, and resign myself to stagnation within it. Or I can embrace the discoveries and experiences waiting to be made, and have a goal so much larger than the present.
I guess what I’m trying to show you, is a different perspective. I know why you’re on this subreddit, it’s extremely hard times, and they aren’t changing. You aren’t made to grow at this point, don’t expect yourself to change on a dime, but give yourself hope. No need to base it on achieving anything, just create a simple goal. Take a bike on a trail, hell explore your town with your dog, plan a roadtrip, whatever. Embrace the deceptive clicheness around exploration, and instead view it as a necessity to live the human experience. We are all nomads, travelers, and explorers at heart. And we have been placed in a world of wondrous mystery for a reason. Embrace a unique experience of exploration you have, maybe even document it. You will have created worthwhile memories and a powerful viewpoint to have in tough times.
Above all, no need to come at something like this with a goal or a challenge. Nature doesn’t demand that of you. Go where you are driven to go, and follow the steps as they come into place, embrace not knowing what you are doing… none of us do :)
Love You