Rolling luggage parts

Idk about you guys but I've always loved how a shower felt after a bunch of work. Something special about it. Anyway thanks for reading! :)
They were both offered showers by town citizens happy to open their homes. Gareth found showers immensely awkward but didn’t need to worry as a few townsfolk drew him a bath. With some extra help from Deag, who had taken a short trip to the ship, he treated the water and was finally able to eat something. It was no traditional Weilan spa, but it was… close enough. If he was being entirely honest, he was just glad to finally be able to eat something. He may have fibbed to Pen when they talked about food. He wasn’t near starving quite yet and even though being carried had allowed him to conserve a lot of energy, it wouldn’t have helped much longer.
He looked down at his poor shell. Its color greatly diminished from the lack of food and immense stress of the whole ordeal. He could feel the buildup of toxins in his system before and it was wonderful to feel them washing out. He sighed and slumped down under the water. Again, he inspected his shell. Wilting and greying all over his eyes wandered to the crack made by Pen when she pulled him out of the way of the turret. Probably another two months to heal but it was coming along. She must have remembered it too when they were falling. She was gentler. It honestly surprised him that he managed to survive that fall without any major injury.
Gareth let his thoughts drift aimlessly as he soaked under the water. After a few minutes, though, he heard a thump from outside the tub. He rose up from the water and peeked over the lip of the tub. A small human child stared back from the washroom door. Small by human standards that is. He was shorter than Gareth but only by a few inches. If Ton’et’s human biology lessons were serving him well the boy wouldn’t remain much smaller than him for more than a year or so. He should be quickly entering a time of quick growth that humans experience periodically in their formative years.
“Mmmhmmmb” the boy mumbled, still hiding most of himself behind the door.
“What was that?” Gareth asked.
The boy shirked slightly but found his voice after a moment.
“You… You’re weird looking.”
Gareth chuckled.
“You’re the weird looking one.”
The boy's brow furrowed, easier to read than Pen by far. The child wore his emotions on his face.
“Nuh uh…”
“Yuh huh.” Gareth mimicked the child.
“No, you don’t look like anyone else here.”
“Well, I’m not from here, am I? I’m from a place where everyone looks like me and nobody looks like you.”
This seemed to puzzle the boy.
“How many people?”
Gareth tilted his head. An odd question.
“Lots? Trillions.”
“Is that more than here?”
It dawned on him the math the boy was doing.
“Definitely.”
“Darn…”
The boy lightly tapped the doorframe with his foot.
“You could go see them.” Gareth offered.
“Really?” A shine came to his eyes.
“Oh definitely, there's a ton to see. More places out there than trees in that forest outside.”
The boy didn’t understand trillions but that comparison made sense to him.
“Waoooaahhh,” a frown came to his face quickly, “but I like it here though. I have friends here.”
“So when you miss them, just come on back. No reason you cant enjoy both right?”
Gareth's words were a joyous revelation to the boy.
“I’d love that I think…”
“I think you would to.” Gareth chuckled.
“You may be weird but you're pretty cool. My names Cameron by the way.”
“Pleasure to meet you Cameron, I’m Gareth. I think you’re weird and cool too.”
Cameron giggled and sprinted away, stopped, turned around, closed the door gently, then turned back around and sprinted away again. Gareth sunk back down into the tub smiling.
Pen stepped under the shower head with her face turned up. Steaming hot water hit her face and ran down taking all the stress and sweat with it.
A proper shower was exactly what Pen needed. She was no stranger to dirt and sweat and when needs must, she had no issue. That said, filthy was by no means a preferred state and after two days hard march, sleeping in the dirt, and only washing off in a river, a proper shower felt divine. It almost reminded her of washing off after a particularly arduous drop. There was something especially satisfying about it.
Soap, warm water, and more time to enjoy it than she’d ever have been given on the Basho. After getting clean she turned the heat up as high as it could go and propped herself against the wall of the shower letting the water run over her shoulders and back. The heat melted through the tension and washed it down the drain.
Ahhhhhh. Perfect.
Something tickled her neck and she brought her right hand up to it. She pulled a long strand of hair away. It struck her as odd and brought her attention to her hair. It had gotten longer. The strand in her hand was almost alien due to how long it had been since she’d allowed it to grow out beyond a few inches.
She brought both her hands up now, raking them through the newfound length. She’d start having to wear it up if she didn’t want to cut it.
She kind of didn’t. Why should she?
After a nice long while in the hot shower she turned the water off and stepped out. The bathroom was heavy with steam, but she saw that towels and clothes had been set by the sink for her. She dried herself and examined the clothing. It was a simple handwoven dress, loose cut and floor length. The dress was dyed olive green and parchment white with a humble little leaf-like pattern embroidered around the wrists and neckline.
It certainly wasn’t her normal fare, but it was clearly a kind gesture and matched the clothing most wore around town. With how little worn and well taken care of it looked Pen could guess that it meant a lot to the person who donated it.
Pen donned it and looked to the mirror only to find it utterly fogged up.
A light knock came from the other side of the door.
“Are you alright miss?” a woman’s voice asked.
“Yea…” Pen faltered.
“Oh does the dress not fit? Or would you prefer something else?”
“No, no, it fits fine,” it did reach the floor though perhaps not as much as it was intended to, “How about you tell me how I look.”
Pen opened the door. Steam rolled out as she moved into the room with the young woman. She was a stranger to Pen but looked like the older lady whose house this was. Pen guessed a daughter.
“Oh my, I think you look quite nice! Olive is definitely one of your colors. Here!” The girl fumbled somewhat but showed Pen to a tall mirror in the far corner of the room.
It was… certainly a look. Not one she was used to but that was expected. The dress fit fine and it did look nice. Pen couldn’t help but notice, though, that it sat oddly on her. Not tight or revealing by any means, just… a gentler looking piece of clothing on a less than gently built frame. It wasn’t exactly made to be worn by a muscled body.
“Oh erm here miss,” the young woman handed her a hair tie but pulled back, “or if you want I could help you put it up? Its at that weird point where its not long enough to… you know but too long to uh it can be difficult. If you want I can…”
“I… appreciate it but I’ll be fine. I think I'll leave it down for now.”
“Right. Well, here. Just in case you want to.”
She again handed the hair tie but this time let Pen take it. Pen stowed it around her wrist.
“Is Gareth?”
“Oh yes your friend is across the street at the Patterson's. I can bring you over if you like.”
“Lead the way.”
“Of course.”
The girl led her out of the house and across the street. Pen saw a couple putting up woven cloth streamers across the road. They anchored them in trees with some parallel and others crossing.
As the girl stepped up the front porch of the, apparently, Patterson's house she waved to an older gentleman in a rocking chair.
“Evening Mr. Patterson. This is Penelope, she was just calling on her friend.”
“Evening dear. Evening miss. Yer friend hasn’t come out yet but you can head on up. To the left at the top, far end door.”
“Thanks.”
His hand came up to keep her just a moment.
“Thank you miss.” He said accentuating the ‘you’.
He looked at her like they all did. She knew what he meant and as awkwardly as it always was she smiled and nodded before she pushed past him. At least he had the good sense not to salute.
As she climbed the stairs just inside the door to the house she heard the man ask a question of the girl.
“Dear, could you ask your mother about a few fertilizer spikes? The peach is looking like it needs some help.”
Pen continued too far to make out her reply but could guess by its warm tone that it was a yes. She turned at the top of the stairs and walked to the end of the hall. Knocking on the door she called out to Gareth.
“You still soaking?”
“Just suiting up. I’ll be out in a min.”
A ‘min’ huh? Pen thought.
Previous
First

I'm running Dungeon of the Mad Mage and we are on level 15 the obstacle course. I'm looking to automate the teleport traps. I have the automatic rolls and teleport figured out but I need some help with the "unaffected by traps for one hour" part.
Thanks!

Unfortunately, this is a DM I considered to be a friend. The campaign starts off with 5 of us at DM’s house. The DM, my best male friend (wood elf druid), my best female friend (human barbarian), my cousin (goliath rogue), and me (orc bard). This was the DM’s first time meeting the players. I knew DM from work and the others from school. He clearly liked human barbarian’s player and tried flirting with her. She told him she had a boyfriend so he took his flirtation into the game. Specifically using his DMPC. She was ok with in game flirting but told him upfront she wasn’t gonna get with the DMPC. So we went through this campaign and fought all manner of Dnd baddies working for an evil shadow sorcerer from Shadowfell trying to influence monsters in the prime material plane. As we fought and roleplayed and dealt with the cringy DMPC, we all kind of grew attached to our characters to varying degrees. I did notice though that human barbarian’s player was getting a bit overly attached to the character. She would talk our ear off about her lore—bordering on main character syndrome and would freak the hell out when she got low on HP. One incident in particular that stuck out was during a fight with a horde of revenants, was when she got downed. She started crying as she rolled a failed death save and we were able to fight them off as we tried comforting her and assuring her that death in Dnd can be an opportunity to flex your creativity but that just made her more upset. Despite the danger (thankfully without the DMPC). We healed her by the end thankfully. She apologized for her meltdown and told us she understood characters die sometimes. She said this but it was still obvious to everyone that she was too attached to this character. Including the DM. The DM later found a way to exploit this by leading the party to the DMPC’s secret castle as he planned to hold court to gather his allies (allegedly). As most of the party went down for a long rest, DMPC said “I’ll walk you to your chambers” to human barbarian. He told her stories of how forces of darkness like Shadow dragons, shadow demons, beholders will frequently attack these parts. Sometimes many at a time. “It could lead to a TPK” he said. We could tell she was getting nervous as the DMPC went on about how “forces beyond the player’s control” can kill you in an instant if they don’t get what they want. And then he arrives in her quarters and says “Best not to provoke these dark forces. I kiss your lips tenderly as I grab your hips and begin removing your succulent dress.” She tells him to stop out of game as she still didn’t wanna sleep with the DMPC. DM then said “That’s ok. You hear the bellowing echo of the darkness as DMPC begins chanting. Roll a perception check everyone.” As we rolled I gave DM a death stare and he just chuckled as he said “You all can tell it sounds like a powerful shadow monster and he seems to have picked up your soul signatures as DMPC keeps chanting.” She then called the DM out on what he was doing and DM said “What? I told you there were dark forces at play.” She started to cry and DM just said “Don’t cry. You know how to get out of this.” She then just got up and said she couldn’t do this and left in tears. Me and my other friend then got into it with the DM and said he was being a creepy asshole and he then tried to pivot and claim it was a joke and that our friend was just too over sensitive and made a remark about how this is “proof” that women should play Dnd. We did not get through to him and unsurprisingly we never played with him again. We talked to human barbarian’s player and apologized to her for not intervening sooner but she was just done with Dnd at this point. And none of us have played since with the exception of my cousin who is still friends with the DM.
tldr Asshole DM tries and fails to coerce a player to ERP with him with the implied threat of a TPK by shadow monsters

The sliding glass door going to my back yard is very difficult to open and close. The section of track closest to where the door closes is very worn away, and I'm guessing that's what the door is trying to roll along. Once the door has been muscled open 18~ inches, the track looks much better, and the door rolls along it with no problem.
Here is an overview of all of the track that's exposed when the door is slid all the way open.
Here is a view from the outside as well.
My question is; how do I replace it, and what replacement track is actually going to fit here? Looking at the information from the door, this product seems to be what the manufacturer reccomends. However, I can't actually remove the old track, it's physically part of the doorframe itself. And I can't just slap this replacement track on top, it's perfectly flat on the bottom and needs to be installed on a flat surface. I could potentially just surgically slice the old track off and sand it down so I have a smooth, flat surface to install the new track on... Except the new track only has 1 rail, presumably the one that that the sliding door's rollers run along, and the old track has a second, shorter rail that I believe keeps the door from sliding towards the home interior.
Any advice to point me in the right direction would be very much appreciated.

These are Castlevania Netflix icons made available as part of the limited \"Netflix and Chills\" collection (October, 2018).
Before I include the steps, I would like to give a few thanks. Some of you may know that I started this mission to find a way to get these icons a few days ago a while back. It took a bunch of work, posting on Facebook groups, Reddit, Twitter, desperately asking for people to help, haha. Well here we are. Thank you u/Sartana for getting the ball rolling by giving me the unique ID of Dracula. Thank you u/sublimeme for providing us with Trevor's. Thank you @insightsoda (Twitter) for helping us get Alucard's. And thank you u/N313intruder for helping me ask around once you were made aware of my mission, haha, and successfully helping me get the icons I would have missed.
Well, that's it. Here's what you need to do to be able to change your Netflix avatar to these icons (taken and altered from u/TaylorSwiftAddicted's guide):
* Be sure to turn off VPN before attempting as some people are having trouble with them on *

1. You will need to be on Microsoft Edge or Chrome to do it.
2. You will need to temporarily install this extension to help you change it. Should you worry about whether or not it is safe to install, it has over 2 million users, and is made by Facebook. You can remove this extension after you have changed the icon, should you wish.
3. Go to https://www.netflix.com/ManageProfiles, and navigate to the page where you can change your profile icon.
4. Open the React Developer Tools by right clicking anywhere on the page and choosing 'inspect'.
5. At the top of the developer tools, you will find a tab named 'Components'.
6. On the left inside this Components tab, you will see a bunch of rows of things. Click on the first row that says 'LolopiIcon'.
7. Now on the right side, you will see a bunch of information about the icon. Next to 'icon' there is an arrow, click it to expand the information inside icon.
8. Inside 'icon' is an 'id'. This is the one we will need to change. Double-click on the value to the right of 'id' so you can edit it.
9. Replace it with the unique ID of your desired icon. In our case, the IDs are as follows: Dracula: "AVATAR0c531682-c1ea-11e8-a863-1204ac6e63e2enMX81029379" Trevor: "AVATAR0c52c863-c1ea-11e8-a863-1204ac6e63e2enMX81029379" Alucard: "AVATAR0c5364a0-c1ea-11e8-a863-1204ac6e63e2enMX81029379"
10. Back in your browser on the edit profiles page, click the very first icon on the screen (this would normally be the first icon in your history of past icons used). This icon is the one we just set a new ID on. Don't worry, it didn't overwrite this icon and you can still change back to this icon in the future, should you wish.
11. After you click, you will be shown a prompt about whether or not you want to change. This will not yet show your desired icon under 'new'. Click let's do it.
12. You will now be shown another prompt about whether or not you want to save your profile settings. Again, it will not show your desired icon yet. Click 'save'.
13. You should now have your desired icon! And yes, this change would be reflected on all devices.

Have fun!
ALSO, if it's not working, try following these steps, but it really should work.
If you're interested, here are links to reddit posts relating to our little mission hehe:
https://www.reddit.com/castlevania/comments/r9efwx/i_finally_have_draculas_icon_on_netflix_still/
https://www.reddit.com/castlevania/comments/r1mfst/does_anyone_still_have_alucard_as_their_netflix/
https://www.reddit.com/castlevania/comments/rammz5/how_to_use_alucard_dracula_netflix_icon_2021/

I’ll be honest, if it wasn’t for the war on hip hop that B.Dot’s controversial end of year list caused, I may have never heard this album. Per usual, his selection of artists naturally created cultural discord leaving many steadfast in disagreement. As I witnessed the contention on various social channels, and the numerous opinions of its sequence, this album regardless of its placement, was undoubtedly included.
By the title, I was interested, and taken after the first listen. Immediately, the biblical mockery at its commencement was more than enough to occupy my attention. I could not believe what I was hearing. This wasn’t the usual inclusion of an artist's personal faith walk in music, but rather the tone of a self appointed godhead taking his sovereign position. It was his passion, and his candid incivility towards the church's consecration. Rolls Royce Break Lights, and it’s exuberant production acting as the album’s prelude, setting the atmosphere for Cook’s word.
“I’m the truth, I’m the light, I’m the way”
Bread of Life was a swift change in tone, settling the congregation in their seats while Cook’s reasoned his wise tales. This song was delivered with the posture of an expert, detailing his past in a way that tantalized those who’ve never walked in his shoes, finding the treasure that he did. He had glory and knew it, and in his unapologetic jovial tone, made sure we knew as well. This was an episodical account of events that placed him in such a position of opulence. I listened closely.
“Out of all these rap niggas, I’m the goldest, 24 karat glow, my soul lit”
It was beautifully irreverent, the robe of a street priest and the honesty of his unabashed life experiences proving to be more potent than any scriptural teachings. A master at his craft, rap and otherwise making his hustle a joyous, celebratory occasion. A pronounced success separate from one found in the lust of the music business. In the album, Cooks, regardless of whether he ever released music, was already successful. This was his version of the American dream, manifested in a way that supersedes the road more traveled, and the prerogative that way affords you.
By Crosses, he was loud and clear as the dark, ominous production ensured that we understood him. In it was a vulnerable frustration, standing firm in his belief, and the inevitable position he would take in hip hop. He wasn’t looking for acceptance, or a welcoming of any kind. Nor was this an attempt to alert the culture of his plan to capture the coveted crown; he had one already. His position was unlike any other, blatantly disrupting the culture’s comfort zone and deriding its slumber to his advantage.
As I replayed this track, I heard something different every time. More passion, and also to my surprise, his lyrics working in concert with scripture. Personally, I find religion a travesty, and regardless if that conclusion stems from my own experiences or not, it is a dangerous falsehood usually consumed by those left void by life’s noncompliance. However, similar to Matthew 7:13, Cooks sermonizes the inevitable ruin associated with the sacrifice of fame, even if that notability is found in street life. In the mood of Crosses was Cook's inveterate position firmly planted on his own conquests.
“Face it, Feds gave us a pop quiz and we aced it, don’t let ‘em tangle up your laces”
Aside from the greatness of the album’s entirety, this song was a magnum opus of its own. A detailed account of his rising, the culmination and even the lucre of his choices; however, so richly nestled in ascendancy. Do I think he’s suggesting his listeners partake in street life? I doubt it, but rather to run your own course, at your pace, all while being mindful of its enmity. I think in the manner of Cook’s story telling more highlights the self determination esteemed to those of personal triumph. That even in drug related subject matter, his message balances the consequence of his ways of life, but also its predestined victory.
“I’m thinkin’ when this shit over, what happened to your soul”
Another well favored track, Gloria Blemente and it’s flirtatious tone. Cook’s skillful, endearing honesty made it one I’m sure the ladies of his fan base relished as much as I did. This was the sincerity of the one that makes you smile though you’re upset with him. The one whose lifestyle scares you, though not enough to leave. The hustler, or king of the city reigning in the splendor that often blinds your better judgment. This was dope boy romance, in the scintilla of charm he can afford while his guard remains high. Overall, as the consequences of his decisions loom, you stay because he means well. We’ve all been there, and despite the circumstance, he brings a new woman out of you, and you like it.
For every song, a highly cinematic thread binding them together and this was no different. A gentleman to his sound, lively yet relaxed in the delivery knowing his own knighthood. A craftsman that has used the dignified autonomy of his life for justifiable self righteousness. Who could stop him, or for a second, attempt to discredit his past being the fuel to his freedom; the freedom he deemed necessary. Enamored with his confidence, I couldn't help but ponder the genesis of such personal sovereignty. This wasn't the incipient album of a new artist with apparent trepidation. This was a master class, a sermon of godship carefully crafted to the internal betterment of its hearers. Also, a candor contrary to his seemingly enigmatic nature. Not much social media, hardly a collection of interviews, but the roots of the culture allowing the constitution of his word to live on its own. The perfect literary conveyance complementing the legendary production of Roc Marciano; all the makings of an artist ahead of his time. This album, a bar of excellence unable to be contained by any list, but rather a well sequenced screenplay perfected in lyrical audacity. The story of destiny's obstacle course he conquered with ease at every turn. Today's Illmatic.
Like many of us, he could clearly see the deficit in the culture, not only by the name of the album, but also its content. This time, it was his decision, not that of the industry to extend an invitation. This was his principle, and in the savor of this album came a cosmic shift in rap and life that, like the word of God, teaches to find joy in indignation. This was a law of personal liberty found in those who have persevered despite their circumstance, and the celebration of it. Isn't this what we all strive for? Shouldn't this be our dream? That self sufficiency reigns, and in friction we find our way with a fuck you as comely as Cooks forthright character. Him audaciously choosing a self belief rather than the force fed pious concept of a savior; Cooks being his own. I appreciate that, as many are deceived by the manipulative ways of the church, neglecting the detriment to the believers. Maybe that’s why I enjoyed Cooks disposition and not so much the religious undertones of other albums. In life, we often decide so ignorantly to believe in the numinous ways of a divine being, and that somehow those teachings will abate our own inherent experiences. What about those unafraid to apply the word until we see the gravity of it in our predestination? Maybe until we reign and our word, or our law drives the course of our fortune. Isn’t that true faith? If so, that faith is exemplified in this album regardless of anyone’s consent. What if beauty for ashes truly comes when you construct it? What if we are wholly “free indeed” when we’ve run through the ribbon at the place we marked?
“Why you think they call this shit a race cause it’s a fuckin race bitch, and they made you believe that you ain’t even racin”
What if our firmest victory arrives when we can feed our families without lack after the suffering of perpetual poverty? Isn’t that joy in the morning? In life, there is no instruction manual and many of us bear adversity despite good doing. Out of that is often born a frustration that fuels us to circumvent the supposed road of truth until we find our own. That’s what I hear in this album. I’m unaware of Cook’s personal reasons for his jarring, highly derisive religious context but I understand my own. Reasonable Drought was evidentiary support to the subjective matter of success. The real drought in my opinion, is the deficiency of those bold enough to speak like him, and win how they see fit.
I commend Cooks for his valor, for his own way, and his refusal of conformity. This album was sexy defiance, the sonic display of power, finding the source of it in self; like we all should. As the film played in my mind and the soundtrack in my ears, I thought of what I'd say to him if we ever crossed paths. I'd ask him of the origin of the church's mockery, then tell him of my own, and how I fancy it. Also, how his candid example was not only enjoyable, but a requisite in my own life. Reasonable Drought was a word of law and life, a reminder to stand tall in our own podium and swiftly part with those who oppose our gospel. This was a master's truth, the sanctimonious cape of an expert that had studied the genres entrance and exit points to be had at his convenience.
"Don't mention me with with them, they irrelevant, let me settle this"
Overall, I enjoyed this album thoroughly, but more so, the underlying principles I found in it. This was the tutelage of a maestro, the guardianship for a people who need the acquired taste of achievement. Whether you take his path or not, the one you select will only be conquered by the same fortitude and determination Cook’s displays in his distinguished literary masterpiece. Maybe you didn’t take away what I did, that’s arbitrary, but I encourage any listener to extrapolate the ingenuity in this amazing body of work whether you agree with it or not.
By my third listen, I made a small change making Cocaine Cologne the last song. It was the benediction, the climax to his life symphony, and the orchestra as the curtains close. At the time of this writing, Cook's latest singles Run It Up and That's the Game play simultaneously on heavy repeat, and like his album, I'm once again charmed by his elegant, well poised delivery. Another movie, the one with the entrancing villain we're all rooting for, with a lyrical prowess over more phenomenal production. In the opulence of Cook's charismatic music is hope. A resetting of the roots of hip hop, and adding to the bulldog annexation of upstate New York's position in the culture. In his music, Cook's personal ascension is evident and well celebrated. This album was the relatable gospel to be only digested by those willing to risk it all in their own permissive pursuits. His story is one to believe, the plan to get to the money, or whatever your lust, and the celebration of self in every meantime. Personally, with my own futile religious experiences, and Cook's discourteous backdrop of it, the music was introspective self enjoyment. His versatility, originality, along with his ability to play with melody while keeping the integrity of the culture intact. A legend indeed.
"You gotta visualize it moving when the shit won't, and let the non-believers that jumped off the bitch go. Then you flex floatin by em in the big boat, screaming better kick your legs harder nigga big strokes"
-Bread of Life, Reasonable Drought Soundview

"Good afternoon Ms. Lopez." I say, warmly greeting an elderly Cuban woman in her sixties. She smiles sweetly at me as she asks me if I am the chef behind today's food, in Spanish. I smile and nod at her, and she excitedly begins to chatter in Spanish, telling me the latest chisme regarding the latest romantic escapades occurring in her son's life.
I lightly place some ham on the sandwich I'm preparing for her as she excitedly gossips with me. I cleverly practice my active listening skills, while occasionally chiming in to let her know that I am actively aware of what she's saying. The woman is one of the last people to arrive during today's meal hour. She seems to operate on a sense of punctuality that is uniquely hers, almost like a force of nature. I almost admire it, if I'm being honest. My fellow volunteers look at me and smile as they sense the passive patience I radiate in this minor interaction.
The day has been one of the more chill ones in the soup kitchen, especially since I started actively championing the place. At our most busy we've served hundreds of families in a single day, and today we've served a few dozen. There's something quite nice about this moment of normalcy. I wonder if I sometimes took this level of mundanity for granted during this jump...
To be fair to myself a part of me is almost acting like I'm guaranteed to send myself to some apocalyptic hellscape and that's just not happening. I'm almost guaranteed to go to a place more dangerous than "9-5; a white-collar simulator", but I'm picking my next destination and after the decade of serenity I've had here I've got no reason to act like a dumbass and jeopardize my odds of long-term success in this career by sending myself to a death trap. Ms. Lopez smiles as she walks away, clearly believing she's shared vital chisme with me. To be fair, she did share gossip plenty of people would find juicy, but since I'm not some gossip I was the wrong audience for her words.
My fellow volunteers look at me and glance at my phone with curious looks. I pick up the thing and see that I've been missing an exhilarating conversation in our group chat. I skim the thing, my perfected memory allowing me to instantly catch up with the conversation the small gaggle of brave volunteers who kindly donate our weekend hours have been having before I begin to text the group back.
The rest of the day passes by in a blur. We wait for the people who've come for a meal to finish their food up and then we get to cleaning. After that we do a few sweeps of the parts of the church we've used before going our separate ways. I make my way home, and I do some light meal-prepping as well as practice a few more of my skills. At this point in my stay I've perfected my routine and could do it in my sleep... If I ever slept that is. In the entire time I've been in this setting I don't believe I've slept once. That is a nice feeling, since it means I never wasted an hour of my time, much less six.
The work week is a bit of a slog, since I am eagerly anticipating the news regarding my final promotion. I was never the sort to believe that time felt longer when you were excited about something, or dreading it, but in the time since I came to this setting I've gradually become a believer in such ideas even if they still feel a bit silly. Nonetheless. I diligently work through the week, keep my team on track, and when Friday rolls around I get the news I've waited for.
Thanks to "Gamer's Mind" I am able to keep my face even as the office's general supervisor explains this news to me and not outwardly express my excitement, but internally I am more excited than I've been about anything since I first entered this world. This news means that I'll be getting right around $3,000 dollars every two weeks just for existing! This means that in future jumps working will be optional unless I get really greedy, which frees me up to decide what I want to do in most modern settings. In medieval settings this amount of money could be even more vital, though at the same time such a thing could just... not matter, since in such a setting I could easily just avoid civilization, but this money will certainly liberate me from a lot of the struggles of wasting vast swathes of a jump at a job I don't want.
At the time that I was being told the good news I almost began to cry. Thank goodness for Gamer's Mind, I guess.
Nine years ago I was down on my luck and down to my last dollars when I got the job offer that led me here and this news means that I am free from such things. The freedom and power that comes with making enough to get by, especially passively, is awe-inspiring, and it's quite difficult for me to find the words to express how excited it makes me feel even days after it. I spend... close to a week passively smiling and being just ambiently happy, as I begin to integrate a new set of responsibilities into my work life.
During this time my decision to fix the coffee machine in the office break-room by hand after it almost burns a colleague results in me getting a new class; "Handyman" and the initial ability I receive is a simple one that bolsters my agility a touch, agility being my attribute tied to fine motor skills. I skillfully use this class to actually fix various things by hand, and I begin to steadily accrue various maintenance skills. In days I gain class levels, and with each class level I am able to repair things faster, more cheaply, and eventually my ability to fix matures into an ability to improve things, which I instinctively know will lead to some shenanigans down the line. Before I know it days have turned into weeks, which age and turn into months. My skills with leadership and motivation have continued to improve and I lead my team with my full focus and skillful decision-making. Before I know it I am in the final leg of the final stretch of my first jump.
I've been here for 119 months. Nine years and eleven months. It's actually been... even longer than that. I'm at the beginning of the final week of my stay here, and my hands idly clean a dish as I passively listen to Pastor Charlie, one of the few guest pastors the church has invited in years deliver a sermon. He has the congregants enraptured and eating out of the palm of his hand as he speaks about a miracle that "Our Lord" once performed. His voice is a pleasant distraction and one of my twin trains of thought listens and takes notes on how the man delivers his sermon. Physically I seem to be engrossed in the man's sermon when someone, one of the church's assistants, taps on my shoulder and gestures for me to walk over to the pastor's office. I stealthy get up, activating "Rogue" and make my way out of the serving area adjacent to the kitchen. I relax a touch when I'm in the long hallway leading me to Tyler's, Pastor Rhodes's, office.
As I walk down the humble hallway I feel a strange sense of finality wash over me. There's something uncommonly... real about this trek. I feel more solid, more whole than I have in a while, and I suspect that it's because this is my last time in this soup kitchen, this church. I won't be returning here, at least not for a while, and that's sad. It's not the saddest thing that's ever happened to me, but it is kind of a bummer and I allow myself to feel a touch of real, genuine sadness at the sobering realization that when I leave this place I'll be leaving for a long time.
I eventually put that thought away, shelving it and compartmentalizing my thoughts so I can focus on better, happier things. My enhanced senses allow me to spot things like faint cracks too thin for normal humans to spot, and as I walk past them I cast my handy spell on them. I watch as the walls of the hallway repair themselves and I smile, sensing the powerful potential of the spell at my fingertips. I reach the office of the man I've spent plenty of weekends working alongside, and under, and I smile, even internally, when he looks up and spots me. He greets me with a smile and motions for me to sit down. When I do what he asks, he immediately begins to speak.
"Lucas, I apologize for calling out to you but I wanted to check in. Today you seemed... Out of it." The man exclaims, and judging from the way my heart jumps in my chest I realize that some people are just.... more intuitive than others. My acting skill gets a nice little load of experience when I mask my reaction to his words and let out a small, natural sounding laugh in response to his question.
"Tyler," I begin, causing the man to wince. I'm an atheist, or at least I was pre-chain, now... well, now I'm a lot more curious about religion than I was before. I'm not sure if gods exist, but I sure as shit know the supernatural does and I'm not in the business of denying what I can see. I've made my vague religious position clear to the man long ago so he insists I call him "Tyler" which I've personally always found a bit awkward, but there's something a little funny about how it disarms him so cleanly during this interaction. "I'm doing... Okay. I AM bummed I won't be here next week." I state, calmly. This causes my friend's eyes to widen in surprise.
"You're missing a week? I'm sure some of our regulars will be disappointed. Is everything alright?" The man asks. His question is so sincere, so genuine that it's mildly disarming.
I'm... not a nice person. I'm far from mean, sure, but I've come to accept that there's a core of kindness in some people, even in many people, and I am not someone who has that core, that central, unconscious, guiding light that moves them towards kindness with the ease and naturalness of a heartbeat. At my core rests something else, something I don't know if I can articulate in just a few words.
I wouldn't say I'm mean or anything like that but I'm far more cynical than a lot of the people I've met are. In this world, especially, it seems like a lot of people are just decent at heart and I suspect that that was and is the case in the world I was born on as well. Tyler is one of the people I've met whose central guiding light seems to be centered around decency and kindness and I think in any world the man could find himself in he'd strive to be kind. It's almost like interacting with a real version of Ned Flanders from The Simpsons...
"I'm okay. I'm gonna be doing other stuff, and I normally prioritize the soup kitchen over my work or social life," I state, and this isn't a flex it's simply a very true statement. Tyler hears the remark and smiles faintly. "But I've been asked to help out with other stuff from friends who wouldn't ask if it wasn't something they really felt they could handle alone. I'm just gonna miss one weekend, and then I'll be back." I remark, and Tyler smiles at me.
"Okay Lucas. If you need any help you'd ask, right?" Tyler asks, and I consider the question. This is only somewhat an act, as I don't know if I'd ask for help if I needed it. I ultimately nod at the man and I can sense a touch of sadness as he studies my response, which I don't love but I also don't really feel right lying anymore than is necessary. The man makes some small talk and I quickly breeze through it. In minutes I am back in the kitchen with the others. And minutes after that I am cleaning with my fellow volunteers. Almost before I know it I'm stepping out of the church after we've cleaned out the kitchen. I glance at it one last time before I make my way home.
The next few days pass by in a blur, with only two minor oddities; the first being that I ask Hannah to come out with me on Friday night. I have got to see if I can stomach the idea of any sort of romance in a jump, and this is a consequence free way for me to do something along those lines. The second oddity is that I spend nearly all of my money purchasing... well, everything. Every night after work I go to various stores and spend the money that I really haven't needed all that much until now, purchasing things like weapons, food, and especially books. I buy boatloads of books, both ready and willing to use up something I won't be able to take with me into future jumps anyway in exchange for stuff I CAN take with me, thanks to the fiat-backed power of an infinite inventory.
The work week is, aside from what I do after work every night, pretty normal but Friday itself is weirdly solemn. The day passes by as quickly as any other day has, filled with minor encounters with glitches, and a few more annoyances with my small number of drawbacks but when five rolls around I clock out one last time and give the office a final look. I am weirdly slow when it comes to getting up and leaving my cubicle, in fact I'm actually one of the last office workers to leave the office but as I step out of the building I experience another burst of gratitude to Gamer's Mind, which keeps me from acting odd or even tearing up as I glance back at the place I've spent thousands of hours in.
I allow myself a beat to... honestly, grieve. I tell myself that it's okay to have feelings about leaving, even if those feelings are big and weird and are not the most fun. Nonetheless I don't linger here, at my place of employment, I have other things I both need and want to do. I use my inventory and change into a pretty casual outfit before I begin a brief walk. _________________________________________________________________________
​The park beside the office building is a rare example of a pristine location in the city. It is filled with natural greenery, and at the moment a stunningly pretty redhead glances at her phone waiting for someone to pop into view.
The redhead is wearing a pleasant looking dress and a jacket, as the weather is just beginning to take the seasonal turn towards the unpleasant. It's still warm enough that the clothes are mostly unnecessary but as she waits for her friend, a young man who has finally gotten the courage to ask her out on something vaguely approximating a date, she appreciates the wisdom of her decision to wear the slightly warmer than necessary clothes.
Her "date", mostly in her eyes though he is aware of her feelings and a part of him feels some happiness in the idea that this is a date, enters the park and spots her before she spots him. He reaches into his inventory and he retrieves something, a nice little bouquet he purchased earlier today and safely stored away. The flowers, prettily packed and all, appear as he walks towards the young woman.
Lucas is testing the waters here. He isn't testing the waters with Hannah specifically, but rather what it feels like to go on a date as a jumper. He has long had strange feelings about this, but he knows that he is going to leave tomorrow and so he wants to see if he can enjoy a date as a jumper, so he is doing a scientific experiment even if he feels... less than great about some aspects of all of this.
"Hannah!" Lucas says, calling out to one of his first, in fact one of his only, real friends in this world. The redhead excitedly turns and spots her longtime friend, waving at him and waving him over. She spots the bouquet and lets out a delighted sounding laugh, and when Lucas hears it the smile that alights his features is heartwarming.
In his day to day life some facets of Lucas's charisma-heavy build only rarely surface in ways that matter and his looks tends to be one such thing He is attractive enough that his looks can captivate and reside in one's imagination for a while after they first meet him, but right now, this early on along his chain his looks are only enough to make people have schoolgirl crushes on him and people can and do get used to his looks after a while. Still, in some moments this is enough to color the impression he makes on people. Right now, in a romantic context, his supernatural attractiveness is enough to change the sort of impression he makes on someone.
The handsome actor reaches his friend and sits down next to her. He hands her the flowers and for a moment a strange serenity washes over the two as they enjoy each other's company. Lucas looks inward and he realizes that he genuinely, well and truly, likes this moment. Hannah looks at him and eventually asks an important question.
"Lucas... how am I gonna hold these flowers?" She asks, and this makes him smile. He is quick to offer her a response.
"I'll take them when we get going but I saw them and I thought of you. I felt like I'd regret it if I didn't give you these." He says, and there is an odd, for him, level of sincerity and genuineness in his voice that makes Hannah giggle girlishly. Lucas right now is relying on his perk-enhanced instincts and the charisma he has honed through social encounters for the last decade, and he's enjoying how it feels.
Both of the figures on the "Date", though neither of them officially dubbed it that, enjoy the moment. Their passive delight and infatuation create an envy-inducing atmosphere of closeness and quiet joy that radiates outward. The park is nearly abandoned so there is no one to witness this moment other than Lucas's benefactor, and Lucas is simply at peace.
Eventually he lightly touches Hannah's hand, and asks her if she'd like to go and get dinner before they go to the movie they agreed on going to watch earlier this week. Hannah agrees, handing Lucas the bouquet and he, to her surprise, puts it in the bag he has on his person. When she asks if that will squish or hurt the flowers Lucas tells her, with a bizarre amount of confidence, that it won't. She eventually accepts this, having learned to trust that Lucas knows what he is doing, and the two of them begin a short walk to a mall they both know well.

Okay so I’ll skip over the boring parts, but my dream took place in like a post apocalyptic world and me and my boyfriend were together with a group of other survivors. In my dream I wanted a kid so bad. (I will say I feel the same way about it in real life but me and my boyfriend are both male so it’s a little hard) So there was like this creepy doctoscientist that said he could help us and long story short he some how created a embryo and place inside another male….. I’m not sure but it happened. While he was injecting it into the guy a swarm of black birds (I wanna say crows) flew around him and the doctor and a storm rolled in . Months later it’s ready for the baby to come out and all of a sudden I could literally see the baby kicking and pushing outta the stomach like it was trying to break its way out the doctor ended up getting the baby out but the crows came back and swarmed all around us and the baby. The baby came out semi normal it was giving me demonic vibes 👀 like a feeling of this is wrong and should never have happened and in my dream I said this is wrong. I should also note that I lucid dream every night I’m vary aware in my dream but this one was different I could still control my body and what I do and say but I could not change the theme and story like a normally can I kind of just had to ride with it. It almost felt like a nightmare but I also enjoyed having a child but everything just felt so wrong. And the crows made it worse. Any one have a thought on wtf this means or is this just one of those really weird dreams.

Literally eye roll. What a surprise you have your child for a day ( Memorial Day part of vlog)

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Cover Art!
Just because you’re transported to another world, doesn’t mean you’ll escape from your pain.
Abused by her parents, thirteen-year-old Frances only wants to be safe and for her life not to hurt so much. And when she and her class are transported to the magical world of Durannon to fight the monsters invading the human kingdoms and defeat the self-titled Demon King, Frances is presented with a golden opportunity. If she succeeds, Frances will have the home she never had. If she fails, Frances will be summoned back to the home she escaped.
Yet, despite her newfound magic and friends, Frances finds that trauma is not so easily lost. She is dogged by her abuse and its physical and invisible scars. Not only does she have to learn magic, she has to survive the nightmares of her past, and wrestle with her feelings of doubt and self-loathing.
If she can heal from her trauma, though, she might be able to defeat the Demon King and maybe, just maybe, she can find a home for herself.
[The Beginning] [<=Chapter 217] [Chapter Index and Blurb] [Chapter 219 June 11 or see the next chapter now on Patreon]
The Fractured Song Index
Discord Channel Just let me know when you arrive in the server that you’re a Patreon so you can access your special channel.
***
Ginger makes an offer to Lakadara. The rest of Telkandra's remaining brood discuss the fate of their allies.
“Not good?” Sara asked as Helias strode into the tent and made his way straight to the bottle of wine.
“Not good,” Helias muttered.
Sara nodded woodenly. “Privacy spell?
The tauroll waved his sheathed Fangroar and after pouring himself and his wife a drink, sat down. “We’re safe. Oh Galena, this is really not good.”
“How dead are we?” Sara asked, her tone light.
“We’re not dead. We’re just in a lot of danger and even if we somehow force the humans to retreat, we’ve lost this war,” said Helias.
“Explain.”
Helias drank deep, noting that Sara was also drinking deep as well. “Thorgoth is going after the humans. That part of the plan is as good as it gets. We’ll be attacking them, and using the dragons, whilst our forces hold off Titania. Our objectives are also well-chosen.” Helias buried his head into his hands and let out a deep groan. “But winning this doesn’t change anything.”
“If we can defeat the humans, why won’t that change anything?” Sara bit her lip. “Unless it renders us unable to beat Titania?”
“Yes. Even on the chance we beat the humans we won’t be able to invade them, we won’t be able to defeat Titania. We’d be at a stalemate and both armies would have to withdraw.” His hands dropping to the table, Helias stared at his wife. “And we don’t have any reserves left. We’re going to lose the war, even if Thorgoth lives.”
“If we defeat the humans—”
The general shook his head. “By defeat, I mean we’ll hurt them but we can’t prevent them from withdrawing. We might kill a few of their leaders, their important mages and Otherworlders, but they will still have soldiers. After coming so close, they won’t surrender. They’ll keep attacking until they kill enough of Thorgoth and Berengaria’s supporters that nobody will help them, or until both of them die.”
“Alright so, what do we do?” Sara asked. Helias looked at his wife, noting how still she sat. Her wings were clamped tight to her back and her lips were drawn tight.
“Sara, I don’t have good answers.”
Sara steepled her trembling fingers as best she could. “They’re going to be better than mine. I don’t know anything about war.”
“Right. Well, you need to surrender to the humans if you are captured. Present yourself as a non-combatant. Cry, scream, anything to declare that you don’t mean any harm,” Helias said.
“Why not Titania?” Sara asked.
“She has every incentive to kill you off and far less compunction about doing so. Killing our family off would allow her to have more land to give away to her loyalists. In contrast, the humans have Erlenberg troops fighting with them along with those of the Lightning Battalion. They’re going to be far more friendly to Alavari civilians,” Helias said.
Soft hands, grabbed onto Helias’s waist with a surprisingly firm grip. “What about you? I can get away, but how are you going to survive this?”
“I don’t know. I—”
“Don’t you dare! Our daughter needs her father and I need my husband!”
The general stared at his wife. “Sara, I can’t surrender to the humans if we win. They want me dead.”
Sara refilled Helias’s glass. “Then you need to help Thorgoth defeat them.”
“Then what? We’re never winning this war. Thorgoth is going to be invaded and—”
Cutting him off with the clink of her goblet against the table, Sara hissed, “And what? Why think that far? We can plan for that after this battle, so long as you are still here and with me.”
Letting out a breath Helias pushed his hair back and allowed himself a sigh. Reaching across the table, he took his wife’s hand.
“Sara, you’re right, but you know you can escape this if Thorgoth is defeated.”
The harorc placed her other hand on top of his. “We’re partners. I need you. We need you. So promise me that you’ll do your damndest to live.”
Helias closed his eyes and nodded. “I promise. First things first, before we turn in we need to talk to the dragons.”
***
Fennokra stalked slowly toward the camp. This wasn’t the collapsed side-passage where she and Yolandra had some privacy. This was the main camp where Thorgoth and their army were preparing for what had to be the final battle.
It was also where her siblings were swallowing the last of what seemed to be a side of salted pork.
“Velkandra, Makentra, we need to talk.”
Their second-eldest sister licked her lips, her neck rising to Fennokra’s level. “I am assuming you mean in private?”
“Of course.” Fennokra could see Velkandra’s haunches tensing to raise herself higher. Her sister was trying to look down on her. Allowing her head to dip, she held her height.
“Alright.” Velkandra flicked her tail and Makentra, licking his lips, followed them.
Since their enemies had set up their siege camp behind them, the Alavari camp had been reduced in size. Still, there was the alcove of the collapsed tunnel. Whilst couriers and soldiers crossed across this natural cavern to the defenses on the other side, they kept a good distance away.
Yolandra was waiting for them, scratching something into the cave wall. Fennokra let out a rumble in her throat and her sister turned from the wall suddenly, shaking her head.
“Velkandra, Mankentra—”
Velkandra puffed a cloud of smoke out. “What’s this all about?” she hissed, lips drawn back to show teeth.
Fennokra took a step away from her sister to take Yolandra’s side, her eyes narrowed. “Are you joking? Do you not think we should at least discuss what is going on?”
“And what would be the point? It is a bit late to be having this discussion. The course of the winds have been chosen,” said Velkandra.
Yolandra rose to her full height on her four legs, but even so she was still shorter than the silent Makendra. “The winds can be fickle, Velkandra, and where we are is proof.”
Velkandra pursed her lips, eyes for the first time, looking toward the ground. “The survival of our family is tied to that of Thorgoth. To abandon him would be death by the hand of the Stormcaller and her allies or by his hand.”
“Besides, if we were to abandon Thorgoth’s cause, that would be dishonorable. We promised to assist him,” said Makendra.
Fennokra blinked at her brother’s tone. It was quiet and yet there was a touch of a deep growl to his voice. His claws were ever so slightly digging into the ground.
“We are dragons. We can think and make decisions for ourselves. We are allowed to consider other options, are we not?” Fennokra asked.
Velkandra’s tail flicked violently side to side as her neck turned to her younger sibling. “Then why does it sound as if you wish to follow in the wingbeats of our elder sister?”
“Who we killed. I was there. I lost a claw striking her down!” Fennokra raised one clawed hand, flexing the remaining digits.
“On that, why did we have to kill Lakadara?”
All golden eyes fixed on Yolandra, who held the gaze of her siblings with a contemptuous scowl.
“Lakadara betrayed us,” said Velkandra, almost growling.
“I’ve been thinking over what happened. Lakadara said nothing about betraying our mother. She merely was questioning if Thorgoth was trustworthy,” Yolandra said.
A scowl flaring his nostrils, Makentra growled. “He fed us, trained us in how the humans and their allies fought. Hid us from their eyes—”
“And now Caldra is dead!” Yolandra exclaimed.
“Which is why we must kill the Stormcaller and her friends! So we can avenge him and our mother!” Velkandra almost completely unfurled her wings. Only the tips slapping the stone forced her to pull them back.
“Then what?” Yolandra asked.
Velkandra frowned. “Then what? We’d have our revenge—”
Yolandra’s tail cracked against the ground. “Then what? You all must have heard of what Thorgoth is capable of. What he’s done to others.”
Makentra rolled his eyes. “Sara’s story is just a story. She might have been just trying to turn you.”
“She was honest and she is not the only tale I’ve heard. You must have heard rumors of what Thorgoth did to his own son, Teutobal,” said Fennokra.
“Propaganda,” Velkandra hissed through her gritted teeth, while smoke wafted through the gaps. “In any case, we have no other option. We fight or we die.”
Fennokra, her claws grinding against the floor, had had enough.
“Velkandra, Makentra, have you ever considered that Thorgoth is perhaps using us for his own goals? We have not even considered what he might do to us after we’ve destroyed the humans and their allies. How do we know the Stormcaller and her allies might treat us better? Besides in the first place, she never intended to kill our mother—”
Fennokra blinked. She was flying backwards, something hard was bearing her into the wall. Dizzy as if struck by one of the Stormcaller’s spells, she realized that the force was the foreclaws of her elder sister. Mad rage lit those golden eyes that were the exact same shade as hers. Horrified, Fennokra tried to throw Velkandra off, but her sister was larger and heavier than her.
“Say that again. I dare you to say that again—ARGH!”
Velkandra rolled off, forced off of Fennokra by the Yolandra shoving into her side. As the elder dragon recovered, the smallest of Telkandra’s brood hissed, “It’s the truth! You are a fool to deny it!”
An ugly sneer on her lips, wings quivering with fury, Velkandra snorted. “The truth? Oh right so we are speaking the truth then. Well here’s the truth. Our kind is doomed!”
Makentra blinked. “Sister?”
“Of course Thorgoth is going to get rid of us or try to after this campaign. He has to, but right now he needs us and that’s what we need to rely on until we gain more strength. Of course, whether he wins or the Stormcaller’s allies win, how can we expect to survive in a world dominated by these lesser species hm? How could they ever not see us as a threat?”
Velkandra stalked toward the wide-eyed Fennokra and Yoandra. Her head turned side to side as she fixed her sisters with wild wide eyes.
“Well? Tell me Fennokra. Speak the truth Yolandra. Or are you both too afraid to admit that our kind are doomed and the only thing is to live as long as we can and hopefully avenge those that hurt us as we do so.”
“You’d have us fly to our deaths?” Makentra asked.
The stammering voice brought Velkandra around. Extending a wing, she touched its tip to her brother’s. “I would at least have us fly together.”
Fennokra shook her head. “We’d knowingly fly with a murderer of children and someone who would want to kill us after we’ve stopped being helpful to him.”
“And we have no other options,” said Makentra. Letting out a breath, he rose to his claws and walked away. “I’ll see you tomorrow, sisters.”
Velkandra, without another word, turned for the exit. “You know it’s true, Fennokra, Yolandra.”
Fennokra closed her eyes. Yolandra, though, narrowed hers. “Doesn’t change that Lakadra’s blood is on our claws.”
Velkandra flinched and left. She strode away so quickly she nearly stepped on Helias and Sara as they came to the cave. She gave the pair no acknowledgement other than a growl.
“See you tomorrow, General,” said Makentra, his tone curt. “We will talk to King Thorgoth ourselves for the plan’s details.”
“Of course,” said Helias. He bowed as the pair left before turning to Yolandra and Fennokra. “I believe we missed something important?”
“Be honest, General Helias. Even if we succeed tomorrow, your king has no use for us after we help him kill the Stormcaller, am I correct?” Fennokra asked.
Sara and Helias didn’t say anything. Their slight move to stand closer so they could hold hands was enough.
“I thought so,” said Fennokra. She let out a sigh and glanced at Yolandra, who nodded. “We will be on the battlefield tomorrow. Where are we going?”
“You’re going with me. We’re attacking the forces sallying from Kairon-Aoun. The plan is that you dragons breathe flame over their army to soften them before we attack.
“Understood. Any questions Fennokra?” Yolandra asked.
Fennokra shook her head. What could be asked anyway?”
Yolandra flashed the pair a joyless smile. “For what it is worth, you two have been good caretakers to us. Even if it was to preserve your own lives.”
Helias didn’t bow. Instead he extended a hand. Yolandra stared at him, but Fennokra, recognizing the gesture, extended a single talon.
“May you always be able to see the sun.” At the dragon’s blink, Helias smiled. “It’s an Alavari saying. It may come from when we used to be enslaved by the Goblin Empire. It means good luck.”
Yolandra nodded and Fennokra found herself smiling.
“Our mother taught us a saying as well. May you never fly alone. I wish that for you both,” said Fennokra.
“Thank you,” said Sara in a quiet voice. She curtsied and the two dragons dipped their heads. They watched Helias and Sara leave with placid smiles.
Then, when nobody was looking, they turned from the entrance to hide their bulks as best they could. The gloomy light of the alcove their only curtain of privacy.
***
Frances slowed slightly as they approached Lakadara’s enclosure. However, Ginger did not slow down.
“Hold on, Ginger, what’s the plan?” Frances asked.
Adjusting her new crown mid-stride, Ginger said, “I’ll show you. I’m certain it’ll work, though.”
Frances’ eyebrows rose. “Is that crown getting to your head already?”
The new Queen of Erisdale flashed a slightly nervous grin over her shoulder. “Yes actually, but I think that’s a good thing in some way. Don’t you?”
Frances found herself nodding. It was strange to see her friend even more confident than usual and so comfortable in the regal crown that she wore atop of a standard Lightning Battalion light blue uniform. Yet she rather enjoyed the new gait that Ginger had.
“I do.” Frances smirked. “Your Majesty.”
Ginger rolled her eyes. “Fuck you.”
Giggling, Frances stopped herself as they drew even closer to Lakadara. The dragon was drawing herself up, placing her massive foreclaws over each other.
“Lakadara. I am Ginger, the new Queen of Erisdale. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”
The dragon coughed, blowing out a puff of smoke. “Greetings Ginger, Queen of Erisdale. I’m sorry for your predecessor’s demise.” Lakadara’s golden eyes narrowed. “Why are you here?”
Ginger dipped her head. “Thank you and as to why I’m here. I have a proposition. If you accept it, I will grant you and your kin, the domain of the Erisdalian mountains marked by the Kwent River Valley, Freeburg and Athelda-Aoun as your home in perpetuity, so long as you do not attack humans unless in self-defense.”
“I am unfamiliar with human geography. From the Stormcaller’s expression, I assume that is a lot.”
Frances swallowed and closed her mouth, but she didn’t question her friend. Ginger, still smiling slyly, nudged her. “It is. Frances, can you lend me a hand here?”
Nodding, Frances closed her eyes and imagined a rough map of Erisdale and its territories. With a wave of Ivy’s Sting she created an image of Erisdale, highlighting in red the expanse of the mountains that bordered Alavaria and Erisdale. The area that Ginger had described sketched a rough red triangle between the three points. It was a fairly sizeable area with a low and Alavari human population.
“My husband is in negotiations with Queen Titania and I’ll have to talk to Frances and Prince Timur, but we are quite certain that Athelda-Aoun will also be included in this area,” Ginger said.
Lakadara’s golden eyes were flickering as she examined the land. Suddenly, she turned, long neck arching toward the Erisdalian Queen. “And what must I do? Fight on your kingdom’s behalf?”
Ginger shook her head. “No.”
“No?”
“Nope. If you would like to do so we can renegotiate the agreement, but my husband and I fully intend to grant you this land.”
The dragon’s tail lifted up as her eyes narrowed. “Explain yourself and the favor you seek. This is far too generous.”
“Let me explain myself first. If what I’m told by my experts is correct, you can lay eggs by yourself without a mate, but it takes time right? A few decades?”
“Yes. Still, that doesn’t explain—”
“Here me out. This war is going to end. We may lose, but if we win, banishing you to the north is making you Queen Titania’s problem and she’ll have more than enough problems to deal with. You might just end up coming south again and we know how that ended. I’d prefer to avoid that so that means we need to make an agreement. You need a new home and I need peace for Erisdale. If the kingdom has to give up some poor agricultural land then I’m all for it.”
The dragon nodded. “I see, but why so much land? Why not just give me a cave? Or request my service as Thorgoth did?”
“And how will you eat? Hunt? Where will your grown children go? I’m making an agreement that will last for decades, not just a few years. As for service? I was tempted, but you wouldn’t agree to that anyway and why should you? We haven’t given you any reason to agree.” Ginger gave Frances a wave to dispel the map. “Maybe in the future we can work something out, especially if the dragon population increases. Your service in return for more food, but again, I want to start us off on the right path, not the left path.”
“Left path?” Lakadara asked.
“Erisdalian expression. It means the wrong path,” Frances said helpfully.
Lakadara nodded slowly. “You still ask for a boon, though.”
Ginger nodded. “Yes. I want you to speak to your siblings. Before the upcoming battle starts, tell them of my deal with you. So long as they choose to accept that deal and defect, then I will have it so our forces will not hurt them. After that, you may leave. I will not request you to fight with us.”
“You want me to show myself to Thorgoth? To the siblings that tried to kill me?” Lakadara asked, mouth agape.
Ginger stepped closer to the dragon, who lifted her head away from the queen. “I want you to save your siblings. I want you to save yourself from becoming the last purple dragon in existence. I would rather you not be alone, stewing in hatred for my kingdom and our allies who brought down your family, even if we had just cause. I want peace. What do you want?”
“How do I know I can trust you?” The dragon suddenly grimaced. “Ah, right, you want a lasting peace. You have every reason to want peace.”
Ginger, arms crossed tapped her foot. Frances could see how stiff her friend was, but the action was also comforting. That her magic-less friend had such control over the situation, despite being faced with the dragon was rather…badass.
Letting out a puff of smoke that slowly drifted into the cavern, the dragon pondered the queen’s proposal. Frances held her breath and yet the dragon remained silent, only her tail moving from side to side.
Ginger waited, still content to wait for the dragon’s answer. Frances couldn’t. The tension coiled in her chest, waiting to explode.
“Lakadara, what do you want for your future?” Frances asked.
The dragon glanced at Frances, golden eyes wide. She turned back to Ginger, who continued to stand tall, awaiting Lakadara’s answer patiently.
“I accept your offer, and your promise for the future,” said Lakadara, dipping her head.
“We are glad that you wish the same as we do,” said Ginger. She extended her hand and Lakadara, took her claw and put the tip of it on the queen’s palm.
*Author’s Note: Queenly Ginger was really neat to write 😀 *

In 1982, I and six buddies went bear hunting in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. We were staying at some cabins near Twin Lakes at the base of the Keweenaw Peninsula. When you hunt most critters you go out before dawn and sit until an hour or two after the sun comes up and late afternoon until dark. Most bigger game animals hunker down during daylight hours, so it doesn't pay to sit all day. This means you have a lot of time between hunts; this part of the UP has some remote areas; it is also where a lot of copper mining went on in the old days; the mines are all closed now and mostly full of water. There are a lot of big paper mill holdings there also that are still being logged, so there are a lot of logging roads built by the paper mills; they are good enough roads for large double-trailer logs trucks filled with many tons of logs to travel on. One thing you learn quickly when you use these roads is to get the hell off the road when a truck is coming because they take up the whole road and they don't even slow down for civilians because the mill owns the roads, not the state or county and you are on their land, but as long as you don't get in the way they don't care. Most of the bridges across streams or rivers just consist of huge piles of large rocks with smaller gravel on top of the road. These things look like dams, but because of the large bottom rocks, the water can flow through the "bridge." It's a pretty cool thing to see. We spent a lot of time driving and exploring these logging roads. On one particular day, we went down a new road that led to an actual state park at the bottom of Misery Bay on Lake Superior. It's a park maintained by the state on paper mill property, there are several very rusitc camp sites at that park. We spent some time at the park and messing around on the beach. About noon we headed back down a different road, you see alot of small shacks that usually have smoke coming out of the chimneys, they are apparently used by the loggers. We eventually ended up way out in the wilderness with no signs of logging or logging trucks, it's usually like driving in a tunnel because the trees come together over the road. After a long while, we came into a clear area, and around a bend there was we came upon what we thought was a small town. The road basically went right down "main street," and as we drove through the place, it became apparent there were no people to be seen. We came to a building that was a kind of store, so we stopped there. The "store" was completly empty, looking in the dusty windows you could see it had been empty for a long time. We walked around "main street" checking out the houses, a lot of them were in pretty good repair but they were completley deserted, dust on all the floors had been undisturbed for many years and ther were no signs of foot traffic anywhere. We eventually got back in the trucks and moved on we were all pretty intrigued by the town, we didn't go in any of the houses because it just looked like the owners might actually come back. The "main street" went up a pretty big hill, at the top of the hill was a large building that was obviously some kind of industrial use building covered in that old galvanized corrugated metal sheeting. We stopped at the building and found an opening in the siding. The inside of the building was wide open, and it was very tall, like 30-40 feet tall, with a lot of supporting steelwork; everything was very rusty and obviously hadn't been touched in many years. There were large windows with no glass, just open to the outside high up in the walls that allowed the sun to light it up pretty well inside. At the center of the place, there was a large hole in the floor, like 15-20 feet square. We peered down into the opening, and it was a deep dark hole; somebody dropped a stone down the hole, and it was a long time before you could hear a faint splash of water so we dropped a stone and we had a couple of those old Casio watches with a stopwatch function so we dropped a rock and timed it to the splash, it took almost exactly ten seconds. there were no guard rails or safety measures of any kind, it was really scary thinking about falling into that deep black hole. There was some old equipment left that looked to be like turn of the century type stuff, we assumed it was a closed copper mine.The whole time we were exploring we had two 35mm film cameras taking a lot of pictures, this was 30 years before cell phones and 35-40 before smart phones. After exploring the place for a while, we decided it was time to get going because we had only a few hours before dark. After miles of running down those unmarked roads, we eventually made it back to the cabins, and we all went out to our hunting spots. After it got dark, we all headed to the local bar where we usually went to get something to eat. One of the guys asked the lady bartender if she knew anything about that shut-down mine and abandoned the town; she got kind of a funny look on her face and went to the kitchen pass-through window and said, "hey Dave, these guys went and visited Peterson, we all looked at each other like WTF is she talking about, the kitchen door opened up and the a the cook apparently called Dave came out dressed in typical bar cook clothes. Dave came over and said what did you see in Peterson we said first of all, we never saw a sign with a name on it, but it was just an abandoned town with pretty decent-looking buildings and a closed-down copper mine up on the hill. Dave said yep that's Peterson some people see the signs going into town and some don't, the thing is there never was a Peterson it never existed. Whh......What the fuck are you talking about? We were there, looked into the buildings, dropped rocks down the empty mine shaft, and took many pictures. Dave said yep, you and many other people, but if you try to return, you won't find it. What? We know the road we took. We can get back there, he said go ahead and try. You won't find it. Dave asked did you, by any chance, drop a rock in the hole and time it to the bottom? Yes, actually, we did it took almost exactly ten seconds, Dave said yep, I did, too, and I looked it up. A falling rock or anything falls about four hundred feet in ten seconds; he said Peterson is a real ghost town the whole place is a real ghost town; he said I was there and saw the same things years ago, but I've tried many times to go back and I've never been able to find it, me and a lot of other people who live in this area and know it like the backs of our hands have seen it once and once only. Dave said to go to Houghton Hancock and get your film developed, and let's see the pictures. The next day, we decided to take off from hunting and go up to town and get the film developed. Houghton Hancock is home to Michigan Tech so it's a college town with all the amenities it had a quick film developer place so we dropped the film off and went to see the sights, it's a really picturesque place. About an hour north east of HH is Copper harbor at the very top of Michigan were it ends into Lake Superior, it to is a really cool place. When we got back to HH, we were dying to see the pictures, so we went and got the film and tore open the envelopes. There were lots of pictures, beautiful pictures, but not a single picture of "Peterson"..........Now just a goddamned minute, this is not fucking possible a couple of the guys went back to the film place and asked where are the other pictures that were on those rolls? There were no other pictures. You have all the negatives. We don't keep other people's pictures. We see thousands every month. There's a park in town, and we stopped there, and all sat at a table, just kind of in shock, not saying much for quite a while. In 1982, I was 23 years old. At 23, you think you know it all when you are hit square in the face by something like that; it shakes you to the core; everything you think you know is now suspect because you were in that abandoned town; it was just a cool old abandoned town, you saw it with your own eyes in the wide open sunny broad daylight, not on some dark foggy creepy night and nothing creepy happened, we took pictures that don't exist. That changed my life from that point forward. After that, we went back to see Dave and gave him the stack of pictures of the woods, the Big Mac bridge, Misery Bay, the park on the bay, logging trucks, the rock bridges, some of the shacks, one of which was just about two miles from "Peterson." Dave just kind of chuckled and said yep, that's our "Peterson" alright. For the next two days we totally forgot about hunting, we split up in two trucks and drove those roads over and over and over and never re-found "Peterson." That is my high strangeness story, we found a town that never existed, that other people have also see but only once. As I look back on what we are now hearing stories about, stuff like different timelines like this fucked up one we are in now compared to the real one we branched off from on January 20, 2016. Is Peterson a place close to a spot where two different timelines come very close together? Is it possible that when all the conditions in the universe are just right, and you happen to be in the right place when all those conditions are right, you can visit Peterson? What would happen if you were in Peterson and the universal conditions changed? I wonder if we will ever find out. If you can only go there once, how will it be studied? The mind-warping question is, who keeps track of who has been to Peterson only once and who hasn't?

About a month ago, someone posted about age fatigue and its negative impacts on the organization and its future. I'm a new guy in my late 20s, in the process of onboarding with a fairly active flotilla who have been exceptionally welcoming, however I really have to ask/point out-
Perhaps part of the recruitment woes stem from the sheer insanity of how long it takes to process membership applications? If what I'm reading is true, and from conversations I've had, there are people waiting in limbo for well over a year in some cases. Is there a good reason for this outside of a background check which could quite frankly be completed inside of five minutes once all the paperwork is sent to the right agency? Two years to process a new member is wild to me, and seems beyond unacceptable. I'm fairly patient and only just approaching two months waiting for a number, but...two years would be a tough sell to ask anyone to stick around and not be able to do much.
I do understand there is a more internalized security screening process, but there can absolutely be mitigating ways to involve new folks and get the ball rolling while restricting their access to controlled information/installations.

As we hit the peak boredom of needing to wait over a week before we play again, I decided to take a look at some data of our two star wings and how we fare when they play together and separately.
With or Without You (WOWY) allows you to combine up to 5 players and see how the team fares in Net, Offensive and Defensive rating when certain combinations of them are on or off the court. You can filter for regular season, playoffs and situation and also take a look at it over multiple years.
Here's the WOWY of the Jays so far

• When Brown and Tatum share the court, we have a net rating of +9.75
• When Tatum is on without Brown, we have a net rating of +21.39
• When Brown is on without Tatum we have a net rating of -0.46, because our offensive rating plummets to 108.02 but our defense holds.

Brown has historically had a very neutral or negative on/off when he is the lone star wing in both the regular season and playoffs. Part of this are his struggles with turnovers and his inconsistent court vision (he has a neutral AST/TO ratio this playoffs which tracks historically). Brown's passing has improved a lot even compared to last year but he does still miss a lot of more advanced feeds that Tatum makes. He is at his best as a player when he's attacking into space that Tatum's gravity creates, so when he's out there alone and defenses can load up on him our offense can sputter.
This doesn't mean that he's bad by any means. When we throw Brown out there without Tatum the goal is always to tread water and when we have both in there Brown brings a different look. Him attacking the basket and getting into his elite mid range game is part of what makes us so hard to guard, especially when our 4 other guys can shoot. Also, if you put him on a team like the Pistons instead of a consistent title contender his On/Off would likely improve.
And yes, Tatum + shooters and sometimes Luke Kornet continues to be an elite bench beater which is why his net rating is so high without Brown. Tatum and Brown being +9.34 together is impressive because that's mostly coming against other teams best players.
In the 102 minutes that Jayson Tatum has sat, our offense falls off, not a cliff, but a ravine. Our defense holds though, but I would classify that DRTG as noisy because it's 110 minutes and in 2 of our 3 series so far the other teams bench just wasn't very good anyway.
The thing that has impressed me the most with Jayson Tatum this postseason is his improved playmaking. Statistically he's averaging the same assists per 75 possessions (taking pace out of the equation) as he did in our 2022 finals run but from the eye test he's a lot better. Almost every year he's improved in an aspect of his playmaking. In 2020 he started making more advanced pick and roll reads and became more comfortable handling traps. In 2021 and 2022 he became a more comfortable lob thrower (still not great but definitely good) and more importantly became quite good at making skip passes. This year his ability to beat the Heats 2-3 zone (which is tougher to deal with than a typical one) and his improvement in passing into tight windows was impressive.
This is why despite his struggles with scoring we've been so good with him on the court. He's averaging 25.1 points per 75 possessions on -1.5 rTS (how effecient you are relative to the league) compared to 27.8 on +2.4 rTS in the regular season and 25.7 on +0.4 last playoffs. But with defenses overloading to him, it's generated open shots for his teammates.
Celtics in 4.

Hello! I'm planning on doing el Camino del Norte in August/September this year as part of a longer trip through Western Europe. However, the clothes I'm planning on wearing for el Camino are clothes I wear backpacking and as such, not really what anyone would call 'nice'. I would love to be able to take an extra bag and ship it (?) ahead to Santiago de Compostela so that I don't have to carry an entire alternate wardrobe I won't be using on el Camino. I know luggage services exist, but I dont think that's what I'm looking for since I don't care about being able to access the secondary bag at albergues, I just want to be able to drop it off where I start and then be able to pick it up where I finish. Has anyone done this before? Do you have any pointers or recommendations? TIA!

So I've (39F) been dating a really nice person (50m) july will be a year. In this year he has invited me and my kids to church many time with him and his mother. His mom will not save us (my family) a seat then he will say no your going to sit with us (to his mom).
Well last weekend they have his niece (14f) with them. We get to church shortly after them, they were walking in as we were parking. My boyfriend asked for his mom to save our seats. She only saved one, but we would need 4. When we got to where she was sitting, his mom says i can sit somewhere else as this was a family outing. My boyfriend says no you move down. It's the same song and dance. Then they reluctantly scoot down when done moving, the niece looks right at me gives me a dirty looked followed by an eye roll. This was seen by me and my two kids. I tell my boyfriend we feel like a third wheel and not welcome in the family dynamic. My boyfriend tells me his niece would never do such a thing. My kids and i left, we went to a different church. I've cried myself to sleep every night since. I already have issues and feeling inadequate and not belonging. My boyfriend does a great job on his part to make me feel like i belong. But his mom has had it out for me since day one, she will always say something about my husband. Which i haven't been married to anyone in 3 years. She then goes on a rant about the Bible and how i should still be married and let her son be. This woman wants me to get back with a man who beat on my kids and i for years. now she has her granddaughter treating me like dog crap. I don't want to be disrespected by some little girl who can't have nice clothes because she cuts the shorts till her but and front are showing. Mind you i keep all this to my self on how she dresses. She has no respect for me or my kids. She has stolen from me, so i stated i don't want her left unattended in my house, that was the only thing i had said. This little girl also assaulted me with a salad fork last summer. Like for real stabbed me 6 times this was in December of last year. I feel like i want to just brake things off with my boyfriend because i can't handle this child. My boyfriend and i leave for a vacation here soon, we have been planning since last August everything is paid for as we had saved for this and planned it to a T. Idk if i should just break things off before hand or use this opportunity to let him know what it is doing to my mental state of having to deal with the disrespect from his mom and niece. The rest of the family is great btw.