Rudraksha beads are considered highly sacred and beneficial all over the world. They are particularly loved and respected a lot in Hinduism and therefore, these beads are used in praying and chanting. The vertical lines known as the clefts (mukhi) on the surface of these beads help them categorize accordingly.

My sister and her husband wanted to go out of town this weekend to meet up with old friends in the city. Saturday-Monday. They desperately needed a kids free weekend. My niece is 5 months old and my nephew is 2 years old. I, myself, have a 4 month old. Everyone needs a break and I'm off of work on Mondays, so I offered to watch them. My sisters best friend offered to watch the 2 year old on Sunday and Monday.
So Saturday and Saturday night, I had all 3. And holy moly. I absolutely adore my nephew 💙 but I was relieved when her friend came to take him.
Then it was me with a 5 month old and a 4 month old. 🙃 not going to lie, shit got a little rough at naptimes. Who am I kidding, it was a freaking circus at naptime! I put both of their pack n plays in the bedroom with me so I can tend to both at night. At one point, I had FINALLY got both of them down for a nap, then a HUGE storm rolled through. The outside buckets went flying, power was going on and off, it sounded like a frigging hail storm outside! Ever find yourself shushing nature? LOL to top it off, their chubby dog got stuck under the bed during the storm so he was frantically trying to get unstuck. His paws and nails were scratching at the floor while he whined. I didnt know I had the strength to pick up a king size bed until naptime was in jepordy LOL But I wasnt quick enough, I had to start nap time all over again. Ahh lol
It's now Monday morning. This weekend, I've consumed a gazillion cups of coffee and 2 meals. BUT we all had a great time. I got some really great laughs and great pictures of the kids together ❤️
And, if my sister and husband ask, everything went great 🙃
This post isn't to complain, I just wanted to show my respect because it's not easy. I truly pray for ya'll! I'm sending my love to ALL parents, parents to multiples, single parents, SAHM, SAHD, grandparents. Ya'll deserve it all! ❤️❤️

As darkened clouds loomed overhead, lightning tore through the sky, illuminating the dark forest with a brilliant burst of light. The crackling energy split the heavens, casting jagged veins of illumination across the landscape. The resounding BOOM that followed reverberated through the air, shaking the very foundation of Cornelia's cozy cabin. Inside, she reclined in her plush chair, enveloped in its welcoming embrace. A soft, crackling warmth emanated from the fireplace, casting a gentle glow that bathed the room in a comforting radiance. She sighed contentedly, the flickering flames casting dancing shadows on the walls, as if they were performers in a mesmerizing show.
"A good sign, isn't that right, Wendy?" Cornelia whispered, her voice a delicate murmur filled with reassurance and affection.
“Wendy wike wain,” said Wendy, with her lustrous ebony-colored fluff, nestled against Cornelia's stomach, her presence a velvety touch against her skin. The room filled with a soft, contented humming as Wendy expressed her happiness.
Cornelia smiled as her pale fingers traced gentle paths along Wendy's back, their movements a tender caress. Her gaze drifted to the window, where nature orchestrated a symphony of raindrops cascading against the glass. Each droplet carried its own rhythm, harmonizing with the crackling fire to create a symphony of soothing melodies.
As Cornelia admired Wendy, a sense of curiosity began to blossom within her. Were there other fluffies out there with the same unique hue? Elves and wealthy humans often boasted vibrant and diverse-colored fluffies in their care, while the "street-rat" fluffies that roamed alleyways possessed more muted variations. Yet, Wendy's fur was a rarity—pure black that held an air of mystique.
Whispers had spread among the villages, snaking through ears and fuelling imaginations. Tales, distorted and embellished, spoke of a sinister pact between Cornelia and the Demon Vlae. In their twisted narratives, the villagers claimed that the evil spirit-lord resided within Wendy, bestowing upon her the cloak of inky blackness.
Cornelia knew these rumours to be falsehoods, mere figments of overactive imaginations, but that did little to quell the villagers' misguided intentions. Not wanting the villagers to burn her at the stake, Cornelia made a deliberate choice to slip away into the embrace of the ancient woods. There, among the towering sentinels of bark and the rustling tapestry of fallen leaves, she sought solace and a life of peace with Wendy.
Just as Cornelia and Wendy began to settle into a tranquil nap, an insistent knocking on the cabin door shattered the serene atmosphere. The abrupt interruption stirred them from their drowsy state, pulling them back into the realm of uncertainty and peril.
Ygor knocked on the door with the force of a strong but controlled thunder. The heavy wooden door swung open by itself, revealing a flaming shadow with crimson eyes that glare into his very soul.
“You do not disturb a witch’s nap you...” scowled Cornelia but she paused upon seeing a sad yet familiar ogre standing before her.
In the ogre's hands, cradled gently like a fragile treasure, was an injured blue fluffy curled up into a ball. The fluffy's delicate hooves pressed against her belly as she whimpered in pain, her soft cries filling the air with a heart-wrenching melody. The scent of fear and desperation clung to her, mingling with the damp earthiness that permeated the cabin.
Cornelia's piercing gaze softened, her eyes lingering on the wounded blue fluffy nestled in Ygor's hands. The dancing flames of the crackling fireplace painted shifting shadows on her face, accentuating the genuine concern etched across her soft features.
“Ygor?” asked Cornelia, her voice a gentle murmur that wrapped around the room.
“Ygor need help, widdle fluffy hurt” replied Ygor, his voice filled with a mix of deep worry and desperation.
"Bring her inside," Cornelia replied, stepping aside and waited for the giant ogre to enter her home. "Don't worry, the cabin is bigger on the inside," she reassured him, her words imbued with a touch of enchantment.
Ygor carefully stepped into the cabin, his massive form casting long shadows against the sturdy wooden walls. Inside, he found himself awestruck by the magic in the cabin. The air is alive with ethereal energy, a tangible testament to Cornelia's formidable abilities.
With deliberate grace, Ygor approached Cornelia, his every movement infused with cautious tenderness. The crackling flames of the fireplace cast a soft, golden glow that danced and flickered, creating a mesmerizing play of light and shadows across the room.
Cornelia placed a soft, crimson blanket on the smooth surface of the wooden table, its vibrant hue contrasting against the rustic backdrop of the cabin. Cornelia's voice resonated with warmth and reassurance as she spoke; her words carrying the echoes of countless months spent mastering witchcraft.
"It's one of the first spells I had to learn as a witch, so don't worry about trying to fit in," Cornelia assured Ygor, her tone comforting like a soft caress.
"Now, tell me what happened," Cornelia gently prompted, her voice a melodic invitation to share their burdens.
Her empathetic eyes fixed upon Ygor and the poor fluffy, eagerly awaiting their tale of woe. The fire crackled and the raindrops tapped against the window, forming a soothing symphony that seemed to draw the elements closer, eager to listen and offer solace.
“Ygor fed fwuffy raw meat, now fwuffy tummy hurts,” Ygor explained.
“wed’ meat? Fwuffies nu’ eat wed’ meat” Wendy exclaimed, her eyes widened with fear and confusion.
“Put her on the table!” Cornelia's command sliced through the air, her voice resonating with authority as she directed Ygor to carefully place the injured fluffy on the plush red blanket that adorned the sturdy wooden table.
With eager determination, Wendy scurried towards Cornelia. The little fluffy snatched a flask from a nearby shelf. The green liquid concocted from the nearby river and the roots of an ancient tree glowed inside the flask. The aromatic scent of the potion wafted through the air, mingling with the comforting aroma of burning wood. Ygor's sensitive nose caught a hint of bones in the fragrance, causing him to raise an eyebrow in curiosity.
“Ygor smell bones” said Ygor upon picking up a strange scent coming from the flask.
"It's just the potion, Ygor. You can sit near the bookshelf; I'll handle this," reassured Cornelia as she guided Ygor to a seat beside the collection of well-worn tomes. His heavy footsteps resonated against the wooden floor, creating a gentle vibration that shook the nearby furniture.
Meanwhile, Wendy, her ebony-colored fluff rustling with each hurried step, made her way to the kitchen. The soft tapping of her little legs echoed through the cabin, the sound blending with the crackling fire and the rhythmic pitter-patter of rain against the window. Guided by Cornelia's request, Wendy retrieved a bowl of ash and garlic, their distinct scents mingling in the air, creating a heady mixture of earthiness and protection.
Cornelia's hands moved with practiced precision, like a knife gliding through the cloves of garlic as if guided by an invisible force. With each expert stroke, the pungent aroma of freshly cut garlic permeated the air, mingling with the earthy scent of the wooden table.
Once the garlic lay in neat, small pieces, Cornelia turned her attention to the bowl. She poured the green liquid into its depths, a shimmering cascade that glimmered like emerald flames. As the liquid settled, Cornelia's voice hummed with an incantation, her words carrying the weight of ancient knowledge and power.
In an instant, a flicker of green fire sprang to life, dancing atop the surface of the liquid. Its ethereal glow cast a surreal illumination, transforming the ordinary bowl into a vessel of enchantment. Shadows flickered and played upon the cabin walls, as if the very room had become a stage for magic itself.
Ygor's gaze locked onto Blue, his eyes filled with concern as he witnessed her unconscious. Despite her silent state, his sensitive ears detected faint, almost imperceptible whimpering that tugged at his heartstrings.
In a mesmerizing display of magic, a radiant golden light took the form of Cornelia's hand, delicately reaching towards the green flame. As her hand made contact, a breathtaking transformation ensued. The liquid within the bowl seemed to defy gravity, soaring out of its confines with graceful fluidity. It floated in the air, suspended like a glistening bubble, casting an iridescent glow that bathed the cabin in a surreal radiance.
The floating liquid became a canvas for the dancing and shimmering golden light, which traced intricate patterns written in the runes of magic. With every subtle movement and shift, the elixir responded, guided by Cornelia's hand, as if it were alive. The soft, ethereal hum resonated through the cabin, its gentle vibrations filling the air and contributing to the enchanting atmosphere that enveloped the space.
Ygor's eyes widened in awe as he witnessed this captivating spectacle, his senses fully immersed in the enchantment unfolding before him. The delicate scent of the potion wafted through the air, an intoxicating blend of natural ingredients and mystical energies. It mingled with the comforting aroma of burning firewood, creating an olfactory tapestry that enveloped the room.
“Wemembeh’ jus’ one dwop o’ fwuffy fwend goes fowebah sweepies” Wendy reminded, her voice filled with caution and trepidation. The anticipation was palpable, causing her little legs to tremble with a mixture of anxiety and hope.
“I know, Wendy” Cornelia replied with concern. Slowly, with delicate precision, she reached out and began removing the intricately carved magic runes that encircled the floating bubble. Each rune dislodged weakened the magic, and the room seemed to hold its breath in anticipation.
As the runes dissipated one by one, a single drop from the shimmering green bubble fell into Blue's mouth, like a droplet of life itself. In that fleeting moment, the magic took hold, invigorating her senses and drawing her back from the abyss of unconsciousness. Blue's eyes fluttered open, her vision initially blurry as she adjusted to the renewed world around her. Gradually, the fog lifted, revealing the figure of another fluffy sitting in front of her, a woman with a mysterious allure, half of her face veiled by a cascade of hair, and Ygor, the gentle ogre.
Blue wakes up, her vision blurry at first. When they cleared, she saw another fluffy sitting in front of her, a strange woman with half her face covered by her hair, and Ygor.
"Mommeh?" Blue's voice trembled with a mixture of longing and confusion, seeking comfort in the familiarity of a mother's embrace.
"No, sorry," Cornelia replied gently, her voice carrying a touch of sympathy. With great care, she cradled Blue in her hands, providing a sense of security and protection.
The cabin enveloped them in a cocoon of warmth and safety, shielding them from the world's uncertainties.
"Let's give you a bath before I return you to Ygor, is that okay?" Cornelia offered, her words laced with kindness and concern. Blue nodded, a silent agreement to the caring gesture that awaited her.
As Cornelia cradled Blue in her arms, Ygor's curious gaze wandered to the bookshelf, where a plush velvet tome caught his attention. With a gentle touch, he retrieved the book, feeling the smoothness of the fabric beneath his fingertips. Opening it, Ygor's eyes widened at the sight of a meticulously drawn map, its intricate details beckoning him into a world he’s never seen before.
His gaze shifted to the strange numbers inscribed alongside the map, written in elegant script that danced across the aged parchment. Ygor traced the lines and deciphered the enigmatic message contained within.
"Two... tw-twenty-six degrees, twelve minutes, and forty-four seconds, N—No- no- north," Ygor read aloud, his voice filled with a mix of curiosity.
Cornelia emerged from the bath, her bare feet padding softly against the wooden floor, carrying Blue wrapped in a clean towel. Drops of water glistened upon her skin like scattered diamonds, reflecting the warm glow of the cabin's hearth. She approached Ygor, her presence radiating a sense of wisdom and familiarity.
"It seems you've improved since the last time I met you," Cornelia remarked, her voice carrying a tone of admiration.
The scent of lavender lingered in the air, intermingling with the comforting aroma of freshly brewed tea.
“Ygor been reading lots lately, collected many books” Ygor proudly proclaimed. The room resonated with the gentle rustling of pages, as each one whispered a tale of knowledge and discovery.
Gently placing Blue on the floor, Cornelia watched with fondness as the little fluffy’s hooves create a delicate patter against the wooden surface as she scurried towards Ygor. She nuzzled against his massive leg, seeking solace and comfort. A warm smile graced Cornelia's lips.
"That's truly admirable," Cornelia remarked, her voice carrying a gentle cadence. The crackling fire painted flickering shadows upon the walls, enveloping the space in a comforting embrace. The scent of smoldering logs mingled with the sweet fragrance of wildflowers, creating an enchanting symphony for the senses.
“Until the ‘metal people’ burnt them along with Ygor house” Ygor replied, his voice echoed with a touch of sorrow. The weight of his words hung in the air, mingling with the flickering shadows cast by the crackling flames.
"The metal people," Cornelia mused, her thoughts drifting to the relentless knights of The King. The weight of their armored presence pressed upon her mind, like a looming storm cloud on the horizon. The memory of their arrival, their steel-clad boots treading upon the sacred grounds of the Old World, sent shivers down her spine. Their presence had brought upheaval, disrupting the delicate balance of harmony and magic that once thrived.
"I'm sorry to hear that," Cornelia said, her voice laced with sincerity. "You can stay here as long as you need," she assured, her words offering solace and a sense of belonging amidst the uncertainty of the outside world.
“Thank you, Ygor will find new home soon,” Ygor replied. “By the way, Ygor find black fluffy interesting, never seen one before,” he remarked, pointing towards Wendy.
Cornelia followed his gaze, her eyes tracing the ebony contours of Wendy's fur. The contrast of darkness against light evoked a sense of curiosity and wonder.
“I saw her in an alley a couple of months ago while I was gathering ingredients,” Cornelia recalled as she adjusted her favorite chair, drawing it closer to Ygor's seat. Blue and Wendy sat side by side, their eyes filled with anticipation as they listen to the story Cornelia is about to tell.
Clad in a worn cloak that concealed her features, Cornelia blended seamlessly into the bustling village crowd. The fabric whispered with every movement, a soft rustle against her skin as she navigated the narrow streets. The air was alive with the aroma of freshly baked bread, mingling with the scent of spices wafting from market stalls.
After procuring a bundle of garlic from the local market, the distinct scent of its earthy essence enveloped Cornelia's senses. Its pungency mingled with the vibrant tapestry of smells, drawing her further into the heart of the village. With purposeful steps, she made her way through the labyrinthine streets, seeking the hidden corners where the secrets of her craft could be uncovered.
The alleyway she ventured into concealed itself in shadow, an intimate sanctuary away from prying eyes. She brushed her finger against the rough brick walls as she walked deeper into the alley. Carefully, she extracted small glass jars from her satchel, their delicate clinks echoing in the stillness of the alley. Each jar captured the essence of a captured lizard, their gentle rustling and soft scales brushing against the glass as they adjusted to their temporary confines. Cornelia observed the ethereal dance of light on their vibrant scales, the sight creating a mesmerizing spectacle that seemed to hint at the creatures' otherworldly origins.
As her task neared completion, a hushed whimpering caught Cornelia's acute hearing, piercing through the ambient sounds of the alley. The muffled cries stirred her curiosity and compassion, grounding her in the present moment. The echoes of distress resonated with a palpable weight, urging her to investigate further. With a mixture of anticipation and concern, she followed the trail of whimpering, guided by an invisible thread that led her deeper into the shadows of the alleyway.
“Ugwy babbeh, momma gib’ fowebah sweepies!!!” scowled a fat, ugly fluffy with a distinct rhotacism, muted pink fur, and a stained green mane. Its harsh yet infant-like voice reverberated off the soot-covered walls, creating a dissonant symphony in the alley.
Cornelia's voice cut through the air like a whip cracking, her words carrying an authority that resonated with power and determination.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you, street-rat!" she scowled back, her tone laced with both indignation and warning. An ethereal light, emanating from her cloak, bathed the alley in a soft, otherworldly glow, casting long, dancing shadows upon the cracked pavement.
"Smawty mommah beautiful! no gwiv biwth to ugwy babbeh!" the street-rat scowled again with its distinctive speech impediment. The creature turned to face Cornelia, its initial anger giving way to shock as its beady eyes widened in disbelief. The glow from Cornelia's cloak seemed to hold the street-rat captive, its mesmerizing radiance momentarily erasing the malice etched across its grotesque features.
“Hooman?” asked the street-rat, its voice trembling with a hint of hope amidst the chaos of its existence.
"Yes, a human," Cornelia affirmed, her tone firm yet laced with empathy.
The alley seemed to shrink around them, the dilapidated brick walls closing in as the tension mounted.
The street-rat's eyes widened with desperation, and in a flurry of movement, it scurried towards Cornelia, collapsing before her in a pitiful display of submission. Dust billowed around them, filling the air with a gritty haze, while the distant echo of passing footsteps underscored the urgency of their encounter.
“Nice wady, pweese take fwuffy wivh yu!” The street-rat's cries echoed through the desolate alley, its once-malicious tone transformed into a pitiful plea. Its snout nuzzled against Cornelia's leg, a feeble attempt at seeking solace and salvation.
“Fwuffy nu wan’ stay wivh ugwy babbehs!!!” the street-rat begged, its snout nuzzled against Cornelia's leg, a feeble attempt at seeking solace and salvation.
Cornelia, her heart heavy with the weight of the street-rat's anguish, carefully stepped over the pathetic creature, making her way toward the vulnerable baby lying at the end of the alley. Drawing closer, a chilling tableau of horror assaulted her senses. The metallic tang of blood hung in the air, intermingling with the sickly stench of decay. Before her eyes lay a grim testament to the darkest depths of despair. Foals with muted and stained bloodstained fur, their dull hues tainted with their own intestines, bore the scars of a brutal struggle. Bite marks marred their tender flesh, evidence of cannibalistic desperation, while trampled bodies bore witness to the unforgiving nature of this forsaken place.
As Cornelia knelt down to retrieve the fluffy, the air hung heavy with anticipation. The scent of damp concrete and decaying refuse mingled with the disgusting tang of blood, creating an atmosphere of unease. The dim light of the alleyway cast long, haunting shadows that danced along the walls.
But as Cornelia's hand closed around the trembling infant fluffy, a sudden, searing pain shot through her senses. A sharp SNAP echoed through the air, accompanied by the sickening sound of teeth sinking into flesh. Cornelia's cry of agony reverberated off the surrounding buildings, its raw intensity tinged with shock and disbelief.
The pink-furred mother street rat's jaws remained stubbornly clenched, its grip unyielding. Cornelia's vision blurred with tears, her vision shortly distorted by the excruciating pain. With a swift, instinctive motion, fueled by a mix of agony and surprise, Cornelia swung her injured hand in a wild arc, flinging the fluffy across the alley.
“What the?” Cornelia cried out. She has never encountered a fluffy that bites. Let alone, one that bites this hard. She swings her hand and threw the fluffy across the alley.
“MEANIE WADY! WHY TAKE UGWY BABBEH?” the street-rat's shrill voice pierced the air, its cries echoing like the wails of a frustrated toddler. The sound reverberated through the narrow passage, carrying a mix of confusion, anger, and sorrow. It blended with the backdrop of distant traffic, creating a dissonant symphony of chaos and distress.
“TAKE MUMMAH! KIWW UGWY BABBEH!” The street-rat frantically stomped the ground in uncontrolled rage. “nu wan’ meanie wady to take vewy ugwy babbeh!!!” the street-rat charged towards the witch.
As Cornelia clasped the fragile baby in her trembling hand, determination coursed through her veins, lending a renewed strength to her stance. The musty odor of the alleyway saturated the air with a pungent reminder of the harsh realities of this grim world.
But before she could fully process the unfolding situation, a searing pain shot through her leg like a lightning bolt. The sensation was akin to the piercing bite of a thousand needles, laced with the unmistakable pressure of a sharp object. Cornelia's scream reverberated through the alley, carrying her anguish and shock to the distant corners of the forgotten cityscape.
The street-rat's unicorn horn, a menacing weapon honed by the merciless streets, impaled Cornelia's left leg. The relentless strength behind the attack sent a blur of conflicting sensations—a symphony of pain, desperation, and disbelief —piercing through her body like shattered glass.
In the midst of her suffering, Cornelia became acutely aware of the grim reality that governed this alleyway. The countless deaths and constant struggle for survival had forged these street-rats into formidable adversaries. Their resilience and innate strength were evident in their very existence. It was a harsh lesson learned in an instant—the living street-rats were much stronger than one could ever anticipate.
As she fought to maintain her footing, Cornelia's vision swayed with a mixture of pain-induced dizziness and the swirling chaos of the alley. The scent of blood intermingled with the dank aroma of decay, enveloping her senses in a suffocating haze. The gritty texture of the alley's uneven pavement seemed to press against her fingertips, grounding her amidst the tumultuous storm of emotions.
Despite the excruciating torment and the formidable foe embedded in her leg, Cornelia clung to her resolve. With unwavering determination, she focused on protecting the fragile life in her arms, steeling herself for the challenges that lay ahead. The relentless struggle for survival in this unforgiving world had etched itself into her very being, and she was prepared to face its darkest truths head-on.
“Fwuffy stuck!!!” cried the street-rat, her voice trembling with desperation as she attempted to dislodge herself from Cornelia's lower leg. The sharp pain intensified, searing through Cornelia's flesh, eliciting a guttural cry of agony that reverberated through the alley.
In that moment, Cornelia's instincts kicked in, and with a surge of raw magical power, she conjured a blast wave of energy that pulsed through the air. The crackling energy engulfed the street-rat, propelling her forcefully into a nearby brick wall. The impact shattered the ancient masonry, and the street-rat lay there, her body bloodied and broken, her ability to move forever stolen.
“Fwuffy can’t move, hewp!” the street-rat whimpered, her words garbled and distorted by her injuries. The alleyway seemed to echo with her pain and despair.
Cornelia turned to leave the scene, a mix of relief and sorrow weighing upon her heart. But before she could vanish into the shadows, her eyes met the wide-eyed gaze of a villager who had witnessed her extraordinary display of magic. The villager's features contorted with shock, and his trembling voice pierced the air like a thunderclap, “Witch!”
“Witch!” The word reverberated through the alley, igniting a cacophony of shouts and gasps from the onlookers who had rushed to the scene. Their voices swirled with a mix of fear, awe, and accusation, intertwining with the faint scent of damp stone and the distant hum of city life.
Sensing the mounting danger, Cornelia slipped away, melding into the shadows like a ghost. All that remained was the street-rat, now broken and vulnerable, desperately calling out, her voice strained and pleading, “Nu take baby, nu take baby, pwease…”
“Fwuffy not know stweet-wats can make hoomans go ouchies” said Blue, her voice filled with a mixture of curiosity and concern. Her tiny hooves tapped softly on the wooden floor as he shifted in place, The air hung heavy with the scent of burning candles, casting a warm glow upon the room and bathing the scene in a gentle, flickering light..
“The alleyways are so full of death and destruction, only the strongest and most psychotic survive. I feel bad for them” replied Cornelia.
“Is like ogre life too, ogre warriors no longer live in peaceful lands, ogre fight to survive to ‘nother day” said Ygor, his voice, deep and resonant, bore the weight of sorrow.
The crackling fire in the hearth popped and hissed, casting shadows upon the walls, their movements mirroring the flickering emotions of the conversation.
“Well, we don’t have to face that depression anymore… Anyways, let’s eat!” Cornelia offered reassurance, her voice filled with conviction and a sense of determination.
The room seemed to come alive with the aroma of freshly prepared food; as if the very essence of the cast spell carried a tantalizing scent that made the Wendy and Blue’s mouths water. The tables gracefully glided towards them, their wooden legs creaking softly, while the dishes floated gently through the air, releasing a symphony of inviting aromas.
“I cooked meals using a spell the moment you and your fluffy arrived,” said Cornelia, her voice carrying a hint of pride. The room was filled with the tantalizing aromas of the freshly cooked meal. The scents of herbs, spices, and cooked ingredients mingled together in a mouth-watering symphony, infusing the air with the essence of culinary delight.
Ygor's gaze shifted to Cornelia, a newfound admiration gleaming in his eyes. Candlelight filled the room with a warm glow, casting a soft illumination on the scene, while the crackling fire in the hearth provided a comforting backdrop of pops and crackles paired with dancing shadows.
Cornelia's ability to cast multiple spells simultaneously was a testament to her skill and proficiency. Ygor could not help but be impressed by her effortless command over magic. There was a grace and elegance in her gestures, as if the very air around her responded to her every command. Despite the intricacy and complexity of the spells she had cast, there was no trace of fatigue or weariness on Cornelia's face. Her energy remained vibrant and radiant, her eyes sparkling with a sense of fulfilment and contentment. It was as if the act of magic itself invigorated her, filling her with a renewed sense of purpose.
Ygor's massive hand gripped the turkey leg, the savory aroma of roasted meat wafting up to his nose, mingling with the tantalizing scent of herbs and spices.
Amidst the anticipation, Cornelia, Wendy, and Blue bowed their heads in prayer, their hushed voices forming a gentle harmony that resonated through the room. The flickering candlelight cast an ethereal ambiance. The fragrant scent of burning candles intertwined with the aroma of the freshly cooked meal, infusing the air with a sense of reverence and gratitude.
Ygor paused, a deep respect shining in his eyes, as he respectfully placed the turkey leg back onto the plate. The flickering flames illuminated the scene, their golden glow casting a warm and comforting light. The air seemed to hum with a sacred energy, as if the very essence of their gratitude and prayers permeated every corner of the room.
“We pray before meals, we can now eat!” said Cornelia told Ygor when she finished praying.
“For ogres, pray and eating is same thing” replied Ygor.
“I remember,” Cornelia replied.
A touch of nostalgia as memories flooded Cornelia’s mind. She recalled the time spent among the ogres, their solemn devotion to the act of eating. Contrary to human myths, they were meticulous and mindful, making no mess as they communed with their god, Grunferth.
Cornelia delicately lifted a morsel from her plate, savoring the anticipation of the first bite. As she brought the food to her lips, a symphony of sensory delights unfolded within her. The succulent meat yielded to her teeth, releasing a burst of flavors that danced upon her palate. The crisp sound of Ygor's powerful jaws joining the feast resonated alongside the collective enjoyment, harmonizing with the heightened aroma of the meal that enveloped the space in a tantalizing embrace.
As Ygor took the final bite of his turkey leg, his ears pricked up, attuned to the faint but distinct sounds that drifted through the air. The cacophony of rolling wood, stone, and metal reached his senses, causing him to instinctively turn his gaze towards the window, his curiosity piqued.
"What did you hear?" Wendy inquired, her innocent eyes reflecting a touch of confusion.
But before Ygor could respond… KABOOM!!!
An earth-shattering explosion tore through the air, violently rending the walls asunder. The debris-filled chaos revealed a seething mass of enraged villagers, their figures cloaked in heavy rain and darkness. Riding at the forefront were armored knights, their steeds thundering beneath them. Amidst their ranks stood an ominous contraption, an immense rifle-cannon affixed to a sturdy bipod, wisps of smoke curling from its barrel.
The air crackled with a blend of fear and anticipation. The scent of burning gunpowder mingled with the acrid tang of destruction, permeating the atmosphere. Shadows loomed and flickered upon the shattered walls, cast by the flickering torches held by the angry mob.
"Load the slug!" bellowed the commanding voice of the knight leader, his words reverberating through the air like a thunderous declaration of imminent danger. Ygor's heart skipped a beat as the weight of the knight's authority bore down on him, sending a shiver down his spine.
With a sense of urgency, two knights swiftly inserted a sharp metal slag, gleaming like a wicked fang, into the massive barrel of the punt-gun. The weighty clink of metal meeting metal reverberated through the air, accompanied by the subtle hiss of their breaths as they worked diligently. Meanwhile, another knight meticulously poured an entire jar of gunpowder into the giant gun-cannon’s bulky breech, the grains cascading with a soft rustle that hinted imminent danger.
As the thick smoke cleared, the cracked force field revealed Cornelia standing tall, her arm aglow with a radiant aura as she valiantly upheld the shield. The scent of tainted ozone intermingled with the acrid aroma of spent gunpowder, lingering as a testament to the clash of magical forces and weaponry.
"Step out, monster!" the commander's voice boomed, cutting through the tense silence like a thunderclap. "Or you and your friends will taste the fury of two pounds of pure lead, forged stronger than your vile witchcraft!"
Cornelia's brows furrowed in bewilderment. "How did they find us?" she whispered, her voice laced with concern.
"Big, stupid ogres leave big, stupid footsteps!" the knight spat out a response filled with contempt and disdain. His words rang out, a venomous taunt that intensified the looming threat. "That buckshot was only a warning! Now step out, or face the consequences!"
Blue and Wendy, their tiny frames quivering with fear, sought solace behind Cornelia and Ygor, their small hooves instinctively covering their fragile, fluffy heads. Whimpers of trepidation escaped their trembling lips, mingling with the heavy air, adding an undercurrent of vulnerability.
Ygor, his massive form radiating determination, stepped forward, his footsteps reverberating like an earthquake that sent waves of terror rippling through the hearts of the villagers. The ground seemed to tremble beneath him, spreading whispers of fear and uncertainty among those who watched.
“What are you doing?” Cornelia asked, her voice laced with concern and near-panic, questioned Ygor's decision, desperately seeking to understand his intentions in the face of such imminent danger.
“Go find safety! Ygor fight them alone” Ygor proclaimed, his words laced with unwavering bravery.
“Ygow… Bwoo nu wike scawy guns… don’t go” Blue's voice trembled with fear, her eyes pleading for him to reconsider.
Ygor voice softened as he knelt down to her level, his words filled with reassurance. “Ygor had to… must stand up for the little ones… Ygor be strong fo’ Blue” he whispered, his voice a gentle balm amid the chaos.
With a final glance at Cornelia and the trembling foals, Ygor stepped forward, his determination carving a path through the looming danger. The weight of his responsibility settled upon his broad shoulders as he braced himself to confront the impending threat.
Cornelia's eyes locked with Wendy's, a silent understanding passing between them. In that moment, a flicker of determination ignited in Cornelia's gaze, mirroring the resolute nod of the black-fluffed creature. The air crackled with a mix of tension and anticipation, as if the very atmosphere held its breath.
"Bwoo, come wivh Wendy!" Wendy's voice carried a sense of urgency, beckoning Blue to seek refuge deeper within the safety of the cabin. The faint sound of hurried hoof-taps echoed through the wooden floor as the foals scurried away, seeking solace from the impending confrontation.
Cornelia's voice rang out with unwavering conviction, cutting through the charged air. "You don't have to fight alone," she declared, her words infused with a steadfast resolve.
Ygor's eyes stared into Cornelia's, seeking reassurance amidst the mounting peril. His broad shoulders squared with determination as he posed his question, concern etched in his voice. "Are the widdle ones safe?"
A fleeting moment of relief passed over Cornelia's features as she met Ygor's gaze. "Yes," she replied, her voice a steadying anchor in the midst of chaos.
“Last chance monster! My patience has ended!!!” The commander’s final warning reverberated through the air, a surge of adrenaline coursed through Ygor's veins. With each heavy footfall, the commander's armor resonated, the clinking sound echoing the weight of the impending clash. The ground itself seemed to tremble, mirroring the intensity that hung heavy in the air.
With one last determined glance back at Cornelia, Ygor stepped forward, his footsteps leaving an indelible impression upon the soil, each stride a testament to his bravery and the impending struggle that awaited.
"You've made a grave mistake, knight..." Cornelia's voice reverberated with seething rage, her words slicing through the tense air like a sharpened blade.
“We’re not leaving without your corpses, monsters!!!” bellowed the commander, his voice laced with venomous determination.
“I’m a forest witch, and you have entered my domain… LEAVE. MY. HOME!!!” Cornelia demanded as her eyes glowed with magic rage. The air crackled with an electric energy, a palpable tension that hung heavy amidst the looming clash of opposing forces.
The commander's signal sliced through the charged stormy atmosphere, setting the massive punt-gun's sights squarely on Ygor, while the villagers tightened their grips on their spears, preparing for the impending clash., while the villagers tightened their grips on their spears, ready for the impending assault.
SWISH!!!
A floating bubble of shimmering green liquid burst forth from the depths of the cabin, hurtling towards the commander with astonishing speed. The commander's reflexes kicked in, evading the peculiar water just moments before it could make contact.
SPLASH!!!
The strange substance that once healed Blue drenched the gunner’s hapless body. Anguished screams tore through the air, echoing with torment and despair, as the gunner’s flesh withered and decayed, leaving behind a grotesque skeletal figure that sent shivers of terror coursing through the hearts of the villagers. The unsettling transformation gripped them. The sight of this macabre spectacle fueled their fear and deepened their animosity, fanning the flames of their hatred towards the forest witch and her allies.
A momentary hush settled upon the battleground, shattered by the commander's malevolent grin. From the depths of the forest, more guns emerged, revealing a hidden arsenal of lethal force.
“Did you seriously think we only brought one gun?” The commander sneered, his words laced with derision and arrogance.
Yet, Ygor and Cornelia stood firm, their resolve unyielding amidst the encroaching danger. With a single swift gesture, the commander's hand unleashed a swift resounding gesture that sliced through misty powder-laced air.
“FIRE!!!”

• ---[Chapter 1]---
• ---[Chapter 2: Part I, Part II, Part III]---

Clad in a worn cloak that concealed her features, Cornelia blended seamlessly into the bustling village crowd. The fabric whispered with every movement, a soft rustle against her skin as she navigated the narrow streets. The air was alive with the aroma of freshly baked bread, mingling with the scent of spices wafting from market stalls.
After procuring a bundle of garlic from the local market, the distinct scent of its earthy essence enveloped Cornelia's senses. Its pungency mingled with the vibrant tapestry of smells, drawing her further into the heart of the village. With purposeful steps, she made her way through the labyrinthine streets, seeking the hidden corners where the secrets of her craft could be uncovered.
The alleyway she ventured into concealed itself in shadow, an intimate sanctuary away from prying eyes. She brushed her finger against the rough brick walls as she walked deeper into the alley. Carefully, she extracted small glass jars from her satchel, their delicate clinks echoing in the stillness of the alley. Each jar captured the essence of a captured lizard, their gentle rustling and soft scales brushing against the glass as they adjusted to their temporary confines. Cornelia observed the ethereal dance of light on their vibrant scales, the sight creating a mesmerizing spectacle that seemed to hint at the creatures' otherworldly origins.
As her task neared completion, a hushed whimpering caught Cornelia's acute hearing, piercing through the ambient sounds of the alley. The muffled cries stirred her curiosity and compassion, grounding her in the present moment. The echoes of distress resonated with a palpable weight, urging her to investigate further. With a mixture of anticipation and concern, she followed the trail of whimpering, guided by an invisible thread that led her deeper into the shadows of the alleyway.
“Ugwy babbeh, momma gib’ fowebah sweepies!!!” scowled a fat, ugly fluffy with a distinct rhotacism, muted pink fur, and a stained green mane. Its harsh yet infant-like voice reverberated off the soot-covered walls, creating a dissonant symphony in the alley.
Cornelia's voice cut through the air like a whip cracking, her words carrying an authority that resonated with power and determination.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you, street-rat!" she scowled back, her tone laced with both indignation and warning. An ethereal light, emanating from her cloak, bathed the alley in a soft, otherworldly glow, casting long, dancing shadows upon the cracked pavement.
"Smawty mommah beautiful! no gwiv biwth to ugwy babbeh!" the street-rat scowled again with its distinctive speech impediment. The creature turned to face Cornelia, its initial anger giving way to shock as its beady eyes widened in disbelief. The glow from Cornelia's cloak seemed to hold the street-rat captive, its mesmerizing radiance momentarily erasing the malice etched across its grotesque features.
“Hooman?” asked the street-rat, its voice trembling with a hint of hope amidst the chaos of its existence.
"Yes, a human," Cornelia affirmed, her tone firm yet laced with empathy.
The alley seemed to shrink around them, the dilapidated brick walls closing in as the tension mounted.
The street-rat's eyes widened with desperation, and in a flurry of movement, it scurried towards Cornelia, collapsing before her in a pitiful display of submission. Dust billowed around them, filling the air with a gritty haze, while the distant echo of passing footsteps underscored the urgency of their encounter.
“Nice wady, pweese take fwuffy wivh yu!” The street-rat's cries echoed through the desolate alley, its once-malicious tone transformed into a pitiful plea. Its snout nuzzled against Cornelia's leg, a feeble attempt at seeking solace and salvation.
“Fwuffy nu wan’ stay wivh ugwy babbehs!!!” the street-rat begged, its snout nuzzled against Cornelia's leg, a feeble attempt at seeking solace and salvation.
Cornelia, her heart heavy with the weight of the street-rat's anguish, carefully stepped over the pathetic creature, making her way toward the vulnerable baby lying at the end of the alley. Drawing closer, a chilling tableau of horror assaulted her senses. The metallic tang of blood hung in the air, intermingling with the sickly stench of decay. Before her eyes lay a grim testament to the darkest depths of despair. Foals with muted and stained bloodstained fur, their dull hues tainted with their own intestines, bore the scars of a brutal struggle. Bite marks marred their tender flesh, evidence of cannibalistic desperation, while trampled bodies bore witness to the unforgiving nature of this forsaken place.
As Cornelia knelt down to retrieve the fluffy, the air hung heavy with anticipation. The scent of damp concrete and decaying refuse mingled with the disgusting tang of blood, creating an atmosphere of unease. The dim light of the alleyway cast long, haunting shadows that danced along the walls.
But as Cornelia's hand closed around the trembling infant fluffy, a sudden, searing pain shot through her senses. A sharp SNAP echoed through the air, accompanied by the sickening sound of teeth sinking into flesh. Cornelia's cry of agony reverberated off the surrounding buildings, its raw intensity tinged with shock and disbelief.
The pink-furred mother street rat's jaws remained stubbornly clenched, its grip unyielding. Cornelia's vision blurred with tears, her vision shortly distorted by the excruciating pain. With a swift, instinctive motion, fueled by a mix of agony and surprise, Cornelia swung her injured hand in a wild arc, flinging the fluffy across the alley.
“What the?” Cornelia cried out. She has never encountered a fluffy that bites. Let alone, one that bites this hard. She swings her hand and threw the fluffy across the alley.
“MEANIE WADY! WHY TAKE UGWY BABBEH?” the street-rat's shrill voice pierced the air, its cries echoing like the wails of a frustrated toddler. The sound reverberated through the narrow passage, carrying a mix of confusion, anger, and sorrow. It blended with the backdrop of distant traffic, creating a dissonant symphony of chaos and distress.
“TAKE MUMMAH! KIWW UGWY BABBEH!” The street-rat frantically stomped the ground in uncontrolled rage. “nu wan’ meanie wady to take vewy ugwy babbeh!!!” the street-rat charged towards the witch.
As Cornelia clasped the fragile baby in her trembling hand, determination coursed through her veins, lending a renewed strength to her stance. The musty odor of the alleyway saturated the air with a pungent reminder of the harsh realities of this grim world.
But before she could fully process the unfolding situation, a searing pain shot through her leg like a lightning bolt. The sensation was akin to the piercing bite of a thousand needles, laced with the unmistakable pressure of a sharp object. Cornelia's scream reverberated through the alley, carrying her anguish and shock to the distant corners of the forgotten cityscape.
The street-rat's unicorn horn, a menacing weapon honed by the merciless streets, impaled Cornelia's left leg. The relentless strength behind the attack sent a blur of conflicting sensations—a symphony of pain, desperation, and disbelief —piercing through her body like shattered glass.
In the midst of her suffering, Cornelia became acutely aware of the grim reality that governed this alleyway. The countless deaths and constant struggle for survival had forged these street-rats into formidable adversaries. Their resilience and innate strength were evident in their very existence. It was a harsh lesson learned in an instant—the living street-rats were much stronger than one could ever anticipate.
As she fought to maintain her footing, Cornelia's vision swayed with a mixture of pain-induced dizziness and the swirling chaos of the alley. The scent of blood intermingled with the dank aroma of decay, enveloping her senses in a suffocating haze. The gritty texture of the alley's uneven pavement seemed to press against her fingertips, grounding her amidst the tumultuous storm of emotions.
Despite the excruciating torment and the formidable foe embedded in her leg, Cornelia clung to her resolve. With unwavering determination, she focused on protecting the fragile life in her arms, steeling herself for the challenges that lay ahead. The relentless struggle for survival in this unforgiving world had etched itself into her very being, and she was prepared to face its darkest truths head-on.
“Fwuffy stuck!!!” cried the street-rat, her voice trembling with desperation as she attempted to dislodge herself from Cornelia's lower leg. The sharp pain intensified, searing through Cornelia's flesh, eliciting a guttural cry of agony that reverberated through the alley.
In that moment, Cornelia's instincts kicked in, and with a surge of raw magical power, she conjured a blast wave of energy that pulsed through the air. The crackling energy engulfed the street-rat, propelling her forcefully into a nearby brick wall. The impact shattered the ancient masonry, and the street-rat lay there, her body bloodied and broken, her ability to move forever stolen.
“Fwuffy can’t move, hewp!” the street-rat whimpered, her words garbled and distorted by her injuries. The alleyway seemed to echo with her pain and despair.
Cornelia turned to leave the scene, a mix of relief and sorrow weighing upon her heart. But before she could vanish into the shadows, her eyes met the wide-eyed gaze of a villager who had witnessed her extraordinary display of magic. The villager's features contorted with shock, and his trembling voice pierced the air like a thunderclap, “Witch!”
“Witch!” The word reverberated through the alley, igniting a cacophony of shouts and gasps from the onlookers who had rushed to the scene. Their voices swirled with a mix of fear, awe, and accusation, intertwining with the faint scent of damp stone and the distant hum of city life.
Sensing the mounting danger, Cornelia slipped away, melding into the shadows like a ghost. All that remained was the street-rat, now broken and vulnerable, desperately calling out, her voice strained and pleading, “Nu take baby, nu take baby, pwease…”
“Fwuffy not know stweet-wats can make hoomans go ouchies” said Blue, her voice filled with a mixture of curiosity and concern. Her tiny hooves tapped softly on the wooden floor as he shifted in place, The air hung heavy with the scent of burning candles, casting a warm glow upon the room and bathing the scene in a gentle, flickering light..
“The alleyways are so full of death and destruction, only the strongest and most psychotic survive. I feel bad for them” replied Cornelia.
“Is like ogre life too, ogre warriors no longer live in peaceful lands, ogre fight to survive to ‘nother day” said Ygor, his voice, deep and resonant, bore the weight of sorrow.
The crackling fire in the hearth popped and hissed, casting shadows upon the walls, their movements mirroring the flickering emotions of the conversation.
“Well, we don’t have to face that depression anymore… Anyways, let’s eat!” Cornelia offered reassurance, her voice filled with conviction and a sense of determination.
The room seemed to come alive with the aroma of freshly prepared food; as if the very essence of the cast spell carried a tantalizing scent that made the Wendy and Blue’s mouths water. The tables gracefully glided towards them, their wooden legs creaking softly, while the dishes floated gently through the air, releasing a symphony of inviting aromas.
“I cooked meals using a spell the moment you and your fluffy arrived,” said Cornelia, her voice carrying a hint of pride. The room was filled with the tantalizing aromas of the freshly cooked meal. The scents of herbs, spices, and cooked ingredients mingled together in a mouth-watering symphony, infusing the air with the essence of culinary delight.
Ygor's gaze shifted to Cornelia, a newfound admiration gleaming in his eyes. Candlelight filled the room with a warm glow, casting a soft illumination on the scene, while the crackling fire in the hearth provided a comforting backdrop of pops and crackles paired with dancing shadows.
Cornelia's ability to cast multiple spells simultaneously was a testament to her skill and proficiency. Ygor could not help but be impressed by her effortless command over magic. There was a grace and elegance in her gestures, as if the very air around her responded to her every command. Despite the intricacy and complexity of the spells she had cast, there was no trace of fatigue or weariness on Cornelia's face. Her energy remained vibrant and radiant, her eyes sparkling with a sense of fulfilment and contentment. It was as if the act of magic itself invigorated her, filling her with a renewed sense of purpose.
Ygor's massive hand gripped the turkey leg, the savory aroma of roasted meat wafting up to his nose, mingling with the tantalizing scent of herbs and spices.
Amidst the anticipation, Cornelia, Wendy, and Blue bowed their heads in prayer, their hushed voices forming a gentle harmony that resonated through the room. The flickering candlelight cast an ethereal ambiance. The fragrant scent of burning candles intertwined with the aroma of the freshly cooked meal, infusing the air with a sense of reverence and gratitude.
Ygor paused, a deep respect shining in his eyes, as he respectfully placed the turkey leg back onto the plate. The flickering flames illuminated the scene, their golden glow casting a warm and comforting light. The air seemed to hum with a sacred energy, as if the very essence of their gratitude and prayers permeated every corner of the room.
“We pray before meals, we can now eat!” said Cornelia told Ygor when she finished praying.
“For ogres, pray and eating is same thing” replied Ygor.
“I remember,” Cornelia replied.
A touch of nostalgia as memories flooded Cornelia’s mind. She recalled the time spent among the ogres, their solemn devotion to the act of eating. Contrary to human myths, they were meticulous and mindful, making no mess as they communed with their god, Grunferth.
Cornelia delicately lifted a morsel from her plate, savoring the anticipation of the first bite. As she brought the food to her lips, a symphony of sensory delights unfolded within her. The succulent meat yielded to her teeth, releasing a burst of flavors that danced upon her palate. The crisp sound of Ygor's powerful jaws joining the feast resonated alongside the collective enjoyment, harmonizing with the heightened aroma of the meal that enveloped the space in a tantalizing embrace.
As Ygor took the final bite of his turkey leg, his ears pricked up, attuned to the faint but distinct sounds that drifted through the air. The cacophony of rolling wood, stone, and metal reached his senses, causing him to instinctively turn his gaze towards the window, his curiosity piqued.
"What did you hear?" Wendy inquired, her innocent eyes reflecting a touch of confusion.
But before Ygor could respond… KABOOM!!!

26 F here. I’m an evangelical christian. I think my denomination is Pentecostal I’m not sure, we don’t really use those names in France.
I was dating that man and wanted to get married. I thought he was the one, he was soooo loving, understanding, not misogynistic, not racist, and respectful to everybody!!!! But I had no peace.
I made several dreams involving us underwater or our wedding where I was screaming no. It was a torture inside.
I prayed and ask the Lord: what should I do. He said to leave. I cried rivers and lakes and asked for a way out. I received the way out: he cheated (with a girl lol)
The moment I left him… I had dreams seing him kissing men. I thought my brain was crazy. Anyway few months later we talked because we were still in love. He said he had sex with 2men “just to try”. I said “ok so you are bisexual now?” He said “no it’s was just an experience.”
We talked again many months later and he told me that he came out as a bisexual, have sex with men BUT will marry a woman (he meant me) and beg me to come back. All this while he was dating and having sex around with everybody.
I’m not a gay people hater. I didn’t really care. I just feel double betrayed and I needed to GET THIS OUT OF MY CHEST. I never told my friends or my church responsible because I’m ashamed. I was telling everyone that he is more than perfect and now he is a cheater without modesty that goes with men.
I was close to marriage. I had the man of my dreams….and the man I knew no longer exists

For not having a comeback in almost a year and a half now, it surprises me how much of a fanbase Everglow still has, and I'm very proud of them for it. Looking at the views for the recent dream concert that happened, their performance has over 110k views on youtube in only 8 days, where other fourth gen groups like Nmixx and Itzy have 88k and 3.7k respectively. This surprised me a lot, especially considering Itzy has one of the largest fanbases around, despite how long they've been active.
Now obviously Nmixx and Itzy fans aren't being starved of content, so it makes sense that their views for this dream concert performance would be lower, but I think the fact that 110k+ people flocked to watch Everglow says something about their popularity. On top of that, I do tend to see them mentioned often online, more so than who I think would be comparable groups like Stayc, Weeekly, and even Kep1er to some extent.
And their Tiktok honestly racks in a lot of views as well, and nearly every comment is begging for a comeback. Praying we get one soon!

WARNING: The following is a massive wall of text and pretty much entirely fanfiction I came up with for fun. A tldr will be available at the end. Please enjoy.
I remember reading once that the Pokémon franchise as we know it was originally supposed to end with Gen II. I always found it fascinating because rather the the wide branching cosmology now seen in the Pokémon world with living embodiments of space and time, an omnipotent creator deity, and even their own version of a devil-like figure in Giratina, the only Legendary Pokémon would be the Legendary Birds, the Legendary Beasts, the Tower Duo, Mew, Mewtwo, Celebi, and the Unknown (assuming you count them as Legendary. I do, so that’s what we’ll go with).
But recently it struck me: What if these were the only Pokémon. Or rather, the only natural Pokémon (minus Mewtwo, of course).
Before diving into the how, first we must ask the why. More specifically, why would human create Pokémon to begin with? Well, the answer to that lies in one of the oldest mysteries of the franchise: the war that Lt. Surge fought in prior to the events of RBG. War has been the catalyst for innovation throughout human history, and in a world which is already known to have magical creatures in it, the idea of creating living weapons is fully within the realm of possibility.
Now that we know why, we can move onto how: How Pokémon as we know them came to be.
It begins with a war. We don't know who it was with, we don't even know if shots have been fired or if it was a Cold War on the verge of going hot. Either way, Kanto was involved in this war and desperately looking for something that could give them an edge. Eventually a military scientist stumbles across the tale of the Legendary Beasts, three beings who perished in a fire 150 years ago that destroyed the Brass Tower, only to be resurrected by the divine bird known as Ho-Oh into powerful elemental beings.
It is from this legend that a radical new project was conceived, to create a legion of elemental creatures to win the impending war. This would become known as Project Pocket Monster.
The first thoughts were to seek out Ho-Oh itself to obtain this power, but as the legendary bird disappeared after preforming its miracle at the Burned Tower it was soon ruled out. Lugia was deemed too dangerous to seek out and was immediately dismissed. The Legendary Beasts were oblivious candidates to study for their powers but they were impossible to track down, as were the Legendary Birds. The Voice of the Forest, Celebi, was briefly considered, but it was considered almost a myth and never seriously sought out. Nobody even knew the Unknown were real creatures to consider at this point.
Finally though, they found their lucky break in the form of a species of rare, mystical creatures from a faraway land who had the ability to transform their physical bodies at will and possessed amazing psychic powers: Mew.
Although difficult, the scientists succeeded in finding the Mew and capturing them, so many in fact that the species was believed to have gone extinct years later as a direct consequence of Project Pocket Monster. Through various experiments involving cloning and gene-splicing they managed to create what would become known as the first Normal types, seemingly ordinary creatures that nonetheless possessed power beyond any natural animal.
The first Pocket Monsters were born.
More tests ensued. The forms these creations took were random, and yet they would sometimes repeat. This occurred on and on until various breeding populations had been established. From here, two major developments occurred.
Firstly, it was discovered that Mew’s DNA was highly unstable, and if the Pocket Monsters were trained properly they would spontaneously morph in even stronger forms. Some could even undergo this process twice. This process would be dubbed evolution, and through studying it scientists found a way to turn the Pocket Monsters into energy to be stored and carried around in small capsules for easy transportation.
Secondly, the Pocket Monsters would sometimes undergo random mutations in the cloning process that resulted in creatures with new abilities, namely creatures with psychic powers like those of the Mew. And thus, Psychic types were born.
The project was a massive success, but one day it took an unexpected turn. One of the scientists happened to have a decoration in his office, a rock from Mt. Moon said to be an actual moon stone. One day as he was writing up a report one of the Pocket Monsters, a small pink creature he named Clefairy, was wandering around his office when it touched the rock. When the light died down, the scientist found that the Clefairy had evolved into a new form after coming into contact the with moon stone.
At the same time, some were becoming frustrated that they couldn’t duplicate the elemental powers seen in the other creatures of legend. When they received news about the Clefairy, however, a new plan was hatched. If random mutation wouldn’t give them powers over the elements, then they would capture the elements themselves.
And so another project was born, Project Stone: Use the unique properties of the Moon Stones to try and harness the power of the elements.
After much deliberation, four teams were put together. Three would each seek out one of the Legendary Beasts in the hopes that they might siphon off whatever power brought them back to life a elemental beings, the success of Project Pocket Monster giving them the funding to finally track them down. Although they never caught them, they did manage to get close enough to the Beasts that the Moon Stones transformed in stones containing the essences of fire, water, and lightning, respectively.
The fourth team went down a different route and sought out the Voice of the Forest. While they never found it, they did find the shrine dedicated to it deep within the woods. There they paid their respects, left offerings, placed the Moon Stones around the base, prayed, and went to sleep for the night. The next day, all the Moon Stones held within them the essence of nature itself.
With the elements now in their hands the scientists got to work, first on creating artificial Stones. While the Moon Stones couldn’t be replicated, vessels for the Elemental Stone were. With these new Stones they began giving them to the Pocket Monsters, and at long last, elemental Pocket Monsters were created.
First there were Fire, Water, Electric, and Grass types, but the unstable nature of Mew’s DNA gave rise to all sorts of new types and combinations. Fire/Flying, WateIce, Grass/Poison, and so on. These would in turn give rise to newer types still, such as Poison/Bug, Ice/Psychic, and even Flying/Dragon. Moon Stones were also applied, creating the Rock and Ground types. All four Stone were also capable of inducing evolution, but not as often as the scientists would’ve hoped for.
Perhaps the height of Project Stone came in the form of Eevee, a Pocket Monster who possess exceptionally unstable DNA and was able to evolve from exposure to three of the five Stones.
In all, a total of 17 types were catalogued out of over 200 species of Pocket Monsters. The project was an incredible success and the creatures, officially dubbed Pokémon for the first time, were issued out to soldiers to serve as their partners in battle. The arrival of these superpowered creatures immediately turned the tide of the war, and shortly after their deployment the Kanto region had emerged victorious.
But that is not the end of the story.
The higher ups in the military knew that if the Pokémon were used in battle it wouldn’t be long before news got out to the general public. And get out it did, as almost immediately after Pokémon became known to the wider world the public protested their use as living weapons, decrying it as inhuman and a violation of ethics. This outcry only increased when it was leaked that the project led to the believed extinction of the Mew.
Faced with mounting public pressure the project was shut down and the Pokémon ordered to be destroyed. However, the scientists who created and raised them and the soldiers who fought alongside them had grown attached to the Pokémon and couldn’t bare the thought of putting them down. Instead, the soldiers kept their partners, the scientists took partners of their own, and the rest were released into the wild.
Additionally, all information on the creation of Pokémon was destroyed and the lead scientists went into hiding so that new Pokémon might never be created by those with ill intent. Some would manage to figure out at least part of the procedure later on, leading to the creation of Poryon by Silph Co. using modern computer technology in place of cloning.
With very little now known about the Pokémon, it fell to the public to rediscover them. A young man named Samuel Oak lead the charge, completely changing the world with his very first Pokédex, a catalogue of 150 different species of Pokémon in 15 different types. This was the first step to creating the modern world of Pokémon as seen in Gen I and Gen II.
There was one group of scientists, however, who refused to abandon their life’s work. Led by Dr. Fuji, these men would set their sights on creating the most powerful Pokémon the world had ever seen.
If only they had a single stand of Mew DNA…
TL;DR: In Gens I and II, only the Tower Duo, the Legendary Birds and Beasts, Celebi, Mew and the Unknown are natural Pokémon. All other Pokémon were created through Mew DNA to serve as living weapons in a war long before Gen I and were released into the wild following public outcry.
Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed.

If this cross-post isn't allowed here please let me know, but I really need help. I have a 1 year 2 month old cat named Sam. I have him since he was 3 months old. He bites me unprovoked constantly. I am at my wits end with this, I don't know why he keeps biting me and I don't know how to fix it. He actually just bit me a few minutes ago, I cleaned up my bleeding hand, sobbed about it to my husband, and then I found this sub.
Some background I guess: He was always a biter, but I thought it was because he was a kitten and because I wasn't respecting his boundaries (I wanted to snuggle with him. He did not). I learned his cues of when he's uncomfortable and about to bite and backed off. Which is all the time, he doesn't like being touched at all. But for months now he will bite me unprovoked. Like I'll be sleeping and he'll attack me, or sitting at my desk and he'll bite. I'll be playing with him and he'll go past the toy and bite my arm. Like I cannot stress enough, I'm not screwing with the cat or depriving him of anything, he just bites me for no reason.
In no particular order I have tried positive reinforcement with treats, distracting with a toy, clicker training, putting him in a different room when he bites, getting hundreds of dollars worth of new toys and "environment enhancements", scheduling when to play with him throughout the day, ignoring him, giving him extra attention, giving him time outs, the Feliway optimum calming pheromones, CBD treats, food for hyper cats, feeding him at night, feeding him in the morning, leaving food out constantly, the vet recommended more play and more toys so I did that, he also has Sam on 5mg of Prozac daily, I even used the freaking spray bottle just praying Sam would leave me alone.
There are no (certified) cat behaviorist in my area. I'd get a virtual one but have no idea if it'll be worth the cost. Google just tells me I need to play with him more. I've read countless articles provided by my vet on how to stop aggressive behavior, I feel like I tried everything and nothing. is. working.
I know Sam will never be an affectionate cat, if he wants to never interact with me again I'll be happy with that. I am honestly scared to be in the same room as him because of this. He's locked in the bathroom right now (with food, water, litter, don't worry) because I was sleeping and he just jumped on the bed and attacked me.
Please give me something I haven't tried. Once my vet is open tommrrow I'll give them a call, but I can't help feeling like a failure for wanting to drug him into a zombie to make him leave me alone. Please someone tell me I'm doing something wrong and this can be fixed.

The Hoax Story of Remarkable Testimony of a Buddhist monk in Myanmar (Burma) who came back to life a changed man!
Introduction The story that follows is simply a translation of a taped testimony from a man with a life-changing story. It is not an interview or a biography, but simply the words from the man himself. Different people react in different ways when they hear this story. Some are inspired, some skeptical, a few will mock and ridicule, while some others have even been filled with rage and anger, convinced these words are the ravings of a mad man or an elaborate deception. Some Christians have opposed the story simply because the radical and miraculous events described herein do not fit their feeble image of an Almighty God.
We were first made aware of this story from several Burmese church leaders who shared it with us. These leaders had looked into the story and had not found any suggestion of it being a hoax. It was with this in mind that we decided to step out and circulate the story. We do not do so for any monetary gain, or with a motivation of self-promotion. We just want to let the story speak for itself, and invite Christian believers to judge it according to Scripture. If God wants any part of it to be intended for His glory or to encourage His people, then we pray His Spirit will work in the hearts of the readers in those ways.
Some people have told us they think the monk in this story never actually died, but that he just lapsed into unconsciousness, and the things he saw and heard were part of a fever-driven hallucination. Whatever you think, the simple fact remains that the events of this story so radically transformed this man that his life took on a complete 180-degree shift after the events described below. He has fearlessly and boldly told his story at great personal cost, including imprisonment. He has been scorned by his relatives, friends and colleagues, and faced death threats for his unwillingness to compromise his message. What motivated this man to be willing to risk everything? Whether we believe him or not, his story is surely worth listening to and considering. In the cynical West many people demand hard evidence of such things, evidence that would stand up in a court of law. Can we absolutely guarantee, beyond doubt, that all of these things happened? No, we cannot. But we feel it is worth repeating this man's story in his own words so that readers can judge for themselves.
My Early Years Hello! My name is Athet Pyan Shinthaw Paulu. I am from the country of Myanmar. I would like to share with you my testimony of what happened to me, but first I would like to give some brief background information from my life growing up.
I was born in 1958 in the town of Bogale, on the Irrawaddy Delta area of southern Myanmar [formerly Burma]. My parents, who were devout Buddhists like most people in Myanmar, named me Thitpin [which means 'tree' in English]. Our lives were very simple where I grew up. At the age of 13 I left school and started working on a fishing boat. We caught fish and sometimes also shrimp from the numerous rivers and streams in the Irrawaddy area. At the age of 16 I became the leader of the boat. At this time I lived in Upper Mainmahlagyon Island [Mainmahlagyon means 'Beautiful Woman Island' in English], just north of Bogale where I was born. This place is about 100 miles southwest of Yangon [Rangoon], our nation's capitol city.
One day, when I was 17, we caught a large number of fish in our nets. Because of the many fish, a large crocodile was attracted to us. It followed our boat and tried to attack us. We were terrified so we frantically rowed our boats toward the riverbank as fast as we could. The crocodile followed us and smashed our boat with its tail. Although no one died in this incident, the attack greatly affected my life. I no longer wanted to fish. Our small boat sank because of the crocodile attack. We had to go home to our village that night on a passenger boat.
Not long after, his employers transferred my father to Yangon City [formerly spelt Rangoon]. At the age of 18 I was sent to a Buddhist monastery to be a novice monk. Most parents in Myanmar try to send their son into a Buddhist monastery, at least for a time, as it is considered a great honor to have a son serve in this way. We have been observing this custom for many hundreds of years.
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A Zealous Disciple of Buddha When I turned 19 years and 3 months old (in 1977), I became a normal monk. The senior monk at my monastery gave me a new Buddhist name, which is the custom in our country. I was now called U Nata Pannita Ashinthuriya. When we become a monk we no longer use the name given to us at birth by our parents. The name of the monastery I lived at is called Mandalay Kyaikasan Kyaing. The senior monk's name was called U Zadila Kyar Ni Kan Sayadaw [U Zadila is his title]. He was the most famous Buddhist monk in all of Myanmar at the time. Everyone knew who he was. He was widely honored by the people and respected as a great teacher. I say he "was" because in 1983 he suddenly died when he was involved in a fatal car accident. His death shocked everyone. At the time I had been a monk for six years.
I tried hard to be the best monk I could and to follow all the precepts of Buddhism. At one stage I moved to a cemetery where I lived and meditated continually. Some monks who really want to know the truths of Buddha do things like I did. Some move deep into the forests where they live a life of self-denial and poverty. I sought to deny my selfish thoughts and desires, to escape from sickness and suffering and to break free from the cycle of this world. At the cemetery I was not afraid of ghosts. I tried to attain such inner peace and self-realization that even when a mosquito landed on my arm I would let it bite me instead of brushing it off!
For years I strived to be the best monk I could and not to harm any living being. I studied the holy Buddhist teachings just like all my forefathers had done before me.
My life proceeded as a monk until I got very, very sick. I was in Mandalay at the time and had to be taken to the hospital for treatment. The doctors did some tests on me and told me I had both Yellow Fever and malaria at the same time! After about one month in the hospital I was getting worse. The doctors told me there was no chance for me to recover and discharged me to make arrangements to die.
This is a brief description of my past. I would now like to tell you some of the remarkable things that happened to me after this times...
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A Vision that Changed My Life Forever After I was discharged from the hospital I went back to the monastery where other monks cared for me. I grew weaker and weaker and was lapsing into unconsciousness. I learned later that I actually died for three days. My body decayed and stunk of death, and my heart stopped beating. My body was prepared for cremation and was put through traditional Buddhist purification rites.
Although I faded away in my body I remember my mind and spirit were fully alert. I was in a very, very powerful storm. A tremendous wind flattened the whole landscape until there were no trees or anything else standing, just a flat plain. I walked very fast along this plain for some time. There were no other people anywhere, I was all alone. After some time I crossed a river. On the other side of the river I saw a terrible, terrible lake of fire. In Buddhism we do not have a concept of a place like this. At first I was confused and didn't know it was hell until I saw Yama, the king of hell [Yama is the name ascribed to the King of Hell in numerous cultures throughout Asia]. His face looked like the face of a lion, his body was like a lion, but his legs were like a naga [serpent spirit]. He had a number of horns on his head. His face was very fierce, and I was extremely afraid. Trembling, I asked him his name. He replied, "I am the king of hell, the Destroyer."
The terrible, terrible lake of fire The king of hell told me to look into the lake of fire. I looked and I saw the saffron colored robes that Buddhist monks wear in Myanmar. I looked closer and saw the shaven head of a man. When I looked at the man's face I saw it was U Zadila Kyar Ni Kan Sayadaw [the famous monk who had died in a car accident in 1983]. I asked the king of hell why my former leader was confined to this lake of torment. I said, "Why is he in this lake of fire? He was a very good teacher. He even had a teaching tape called 'Are You a Man or a Dog?' which had helped thousands of people understand that their worth as humans is far greater than the animals." The king of hell replied, "Yes, he was a good teacher but he did not believe in Jesus Christ. That's why he is in hell."
I was told to look at another person who was in the fire. I saw a man with very long hair wrapped on the left hand side of his head. He was also wearing a robe. I asked the king of hell, "Who is this man?" He replied, "This is the one you worship: Gautama [Buddha]."
I was very disturbed to see Gautama in hell. I protested, "Gautama had good ethnics and good moral character, why is he suffering in this lake of fire?" The king of hell answered me, "It doesn't matter how good he was. He is in this place because he did not believe in the Eternal God."
I then saw another man who looked like he was wearing a soldier's uniform. He had a large wound on his chest. I asked, "Who is this man?" The king of hell said, "This is Aung San, the revolutionary leader of Myanmar." I was told, "Aung San is here because he persecuted and killed Christians, but mostly because he didn't believe in Jesus Christ." In Myanmar the people have a common saying, "Soldiers never die, they live on." I was told that the legions of hell have a saying "Soldiers never die, but they go to hell forever."
I looked and saw another man in the lake of fire. He was a very tall man and he was dressed in military armor. He was also holding a sword and a shield. This man had a wound on his forehead. This man was taller than any person I have ever seen. He was six times the length between a man's elbow and the tips of his fingers when he stretches his arm out straight, plus one span of a man's fingers when he spreads out his hand. The king of hell said, "This man's name is Goliath. He is in hell because he blasphemed the Eternal God and His servant David." I was confused because I didn't know who either Goliath or David were. The king of hell said, "Goliath is recorded in the Christian Bible. You don't know him now, but when you become a Christian you will know who he is."
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I was then taken to a place where I saw both rich and poor people preparing to eat their evening meals. I asked, "Who cooked the food for these people?" The king of hell replied, "The poor have to prepare their own food, but the rich people get others to cook for them." When the food had been prepared for the rich people they sat down to eat. As soon as they started a thick smoke came up. The rich people ate as fast as they could to ease their consciences. They were struggling to breath because of the smoke. They had to eat fast because they were fearful of losing their money. Their money is their god.
Another king of hell then came to me. I also saw a being whose job is to stoke the fires beneath the lake of fire, to keep it hot. This being asked me, "Are you going into the lake of fire too?" I replied, "No! I am only here to observe!" The appearance of this creature stoking the fire was very terrifying. He had ten horns on his head and a spear in his hand that had seven sharp blades coming from the end. The creature told me, "You are right. You came here just to observe. I cannot find your name here." He said, "You must now go back the way you came." He pointed me toward the desolate plain that I had first walked along before I came to the lake of fire.
The Road of Decision I walked a long time, until I was bleeding. I was hot and in great pain. Finally, after walking for about three hours I came to a wide road. I walked along this road for some time until I came to a fork. One road, going off to the left, was wide. A smaller road went off to the right hand side. There was a signpost at the fork saying that the road to the left was for those who do not believe in the Lord Jesus Christ. The smaller road to the right was for believers in Jesus.
I was interested to see where the larger road led so I started down it. There were two men walking about 300 yards ahead of me. I tried to catch up with them so I could walk with them but no matter how hard I tried I couldn't catch them up, so I turned around and went back to the fork in the road. I continued to watch these two men as they walked down the road away from me. When they reached the end of the road they were suddenly stabbed. These two men cried out in great pain! I also cried out when I saw what happened to them! I realized the bigger road ended in great danger for those who traveled down it.
Looking into Heaven I started walking down the believers' road instead. After traveling for about one hour the surface of the road turned to pure gold. It was so pure that when I looked down I could see my own reflection perfectly. I then saw a man standing in front of me. He was wearing a white robe. I also heard beautiful singing. Oh, it was so beautiful and pure! It was much better and more meaningful than the worship we have in churches here on the earth. The man in the white robe asked me to walk with him. I asked him, "What is your name?" but he did not answer. After I asked his name six times the man answered, "I am the one who holds the key to heaven. Heaven is a very, very beautiful place. You cannot go there now but if you follow Jesus Christ you can go there after your life has finished on the earth." The man's name was Peter.
Peter then asked me to sit down and he showed me a place to the north. Peter said, "Look to the north and see God create man." I saw the Eternal God from a distance. God spoke to an angel, "Let us make man." The angel pleaded with God and said, "Please don't make man. He will do wrong and will grieve you." [In Burmese literally: "He will make you lose face."]. But God created a man named anyway. God blew on the man and the man came to life. He gave him the name "Adam". [Note: Buddhists do not believe in the Creation of the world or of man, so this experience had a significant impact on the monk].
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Sent Back with a New Name Then Peter said, "Now get up and go back to where you came from. Speak to the people who worship Buddha and who worship idols. Tell them they must go to hell if they don't change. Those who build temples and idols will also have to go to hell. Those who give offerings to the monks to earn merit for themselves with go to hell. All those who pray to the monks and call them 'Pra' [respectful title for monks] will go to hell. Those who chant and 'give life' to idols will go to hell. All those who don't believe in Jesus Christ will go to hell." Peter told me to go back to the earth and testify about the things I had seen. He also said, "You must speak in your new name. From now on you are to be called Athet Pyan Shinthaw Paulu ["Paul who Came Back to Life."].
I didn't want to go back. I wanted to go to heaven. Angels opened a book. First they looked for my childhood name (Thitpin) in the book, but they could not find it. They then looked for the name I had been given when he entered the Buddhist monk hood (U Nata Pannita Ashinthuriya) but it wasn't written in the book either. Then Peter said, "Your name is not written here, you must return and testify about Jesus to the Buddhist people."
I walked back along the gold road. Again I heard beautiful singing, the kind of which I have never heard before or since. Peter walked with me until the time I returned to the earth. He showed me a ladder that reached down from the heaven to the sky. The ladder didn't reach to the earth, but stopped in mid-air. On the ladder I saw many angels, some going up to heaven and some going down the ladder. They were very busy. I asked Peter, "Who are they?" Peter answered, "They are messengers of God. They are reporting to heaven the names of all those who believe in Jesus Christ and the names of those who don't believe." Peter then told me it was time to go back.
It is a Ghost! The next thing I was aware of was the sound of weeping. I heard my own mother cry out, "My son, why did you leave us now?" I also heard many other people weeping. I realized I was lying in a box. I started to move. My mother and father started shouting, "He is alive! He is alive!" Other people who were farther away did not believe my parents. I then placed my hands on the sides of the box and sat upright. Many people were struck with terror. They cried out, "It is a ghost!" and ran away as fast as their legs could carry them.
Those who remained were speechless and trembling. I noticed I was sitting in smelly liquid and body fluids, enough to fill about three and a half cups. This was liquid that had come out of my stomach and my insides while my body was lying in the coffin. This is why people knew I had indeed been dead. Inside the coffin there was a type of plastic sheet fixed to the wood. This sheet is placed there to retain a corpse's liquids, because many dead bodies release much fluid like mine did.
I learned later that I was just moments away from being cremated in the flames. In Myanmar people are placed in a coffin, the lid is then nailed shut, and the whole coffin is burned. When I came back to life my mother and father were being allowed to look at my body for the very last time. Moments later the lid of my coffin would have been nailed shut and I would have been cremated!
I immediately started to explain the things I had seen and heard. People were astonished. I told them about the men I had seen in the lake of fire, and told them that only the Christians know the truth, that our forefathers and us have been deceived for thousands of years! I told them everything we believe is a lie. The people were astonished because they knew what kind of a monk I had been and how zealous I had been for the teachings of Buddha.
In Myanmar when a person dies their name and age is written on the side of the coffin. When a monk dies, the monk's name, age and the number of years he has served as a monk are written on the side of the coffin. I had already been recorded as dead but as you can see, now I am alive!
Epilogue Since 'Paul who came back to life' experienced the above story he has remained a faithful witness to the Lord Jesus Christ. Burmese pastors have told us that he had led hundreds of other monks to faith in Christ. His testimony is obviously very uncompromising. Because of that, his message has offended many people who cannot accept there is only one Way to Heaven, the Lord Jesus Christ. Despite great opposition, his experiences were so real to him that he has not wavered. After many years in the Buddhist monk hood, as a strict follower of Buddhist teachings, he immediately proclaimed the Gospel of Christ following his resurrection and exhorted other monks to forsake all false gods and follow Jesus Christ with all their hearts. Before the time of his sickness and death he had no exposure to Christianity at all. Everything he learned during those three days in the grave was new to his mind.
In a bid to get his message out to as many people as possible, this modern-day Lazarus began distributing audio and video cassette tapes with his story on them. The police and Buddhist authorities in Myanmar have done their utmost to gather these tapes up and destroy them. The testimony you have just read has been translated form one of those cassette tapes. We are told it is now quite dangerous for citizens of Myanmar to be in possession of these tapes.
His fearless testimony has landed him in prison at least once, where the authorities failed in their bid to silence him. Upon his release he continued to testify of the things he saw and heard. His current whereabouts are uncertain. One Burmese informant told us he is prison and may have been killed, while another informant was told he is now released from prison and is continuing his ministry.
Translated by: Asian Minorities Outreach P.O.Box 901 Palestine, TX 75802 U.S.A. E-Mail: monkst... u/yahoo.com Website: http://www.antioch.com.sg/mission/asianmo
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Dear Triplegem Members, The following message was posted to the NDE.com Website by someone called 'James' on 23rd July, 2000. (NDE = Near Death Experience). The Monk's story is identical. But the source is different. Details can be viewed at
<>
The message began with: "Buddhist Monk visits Hell" I believe this person died, body decay & rotten. He was then brought to those places by the LORD to show him some vision. <-------
This is taken from a mission paper "Northside Missions Update" Northside Christian Centre 31-61 McLeans Road Bundoora Victoria 3083 Australia
The same 'Monk's Story' followed. Then, exchange of interesting messages took place at the NDE.com Bulletin Board among NDE regulars, some of them are Christians, and finally, someone called 'Melvin', 'a Myanmar Buddhist', posted the following message and the discussion came to a close.
The fact that the same story has re-surfaced in another form (cassette), perhaps in a another country is a bit disturbing!
Best wishes to all our Triplegem members, MM Lwin
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Assalamu alaykum my brothers and sisters in Islam. I hope you all are doing well.
I need some advice on what to do regarding a certain matter in my life.
Let me preface this by saying I am 22 year old practicing Muslim who is big on keeping things halal especially when it comes to marriage.
Alhamdulillah - I met a wonderful, genuine, practicing sister who I get along with and so far we have kept things halal and plan on doing so going forward but that’s the issue:
I am from one culture and she is from another. And my parents are keen on having me marry within our culture for the sake of my kids inşa’Allah. Even if she’s good for me, even if she may be my “soulmate,” they don’t really care unless she’s exactly how they want her to be.
And so that leads me to a crossroads.
On the one hand, they are my parents and I must respect their wishes and be patient with them. On the other hand, what they’re saying isn’t Islamic and has no basis in terms of our deen. Even our beloved Prophet Muhammad (PBUH) encouraged us to marry outside the culture for the sake of getting to know one another as tribes/cultures.
I’ve prayed Istikhara, I’ve made plenty of dua for guidance, but I’m still just so confused as to what to do. Any advice would be greatly appreciated.
Thank you kindly.

The next few days, or periods of time that equated to days in this realm that had no such cycles, passed uneventfully. This made the goddess suspicious as it was unlike Tarkus not to directly kick up a fuss about the humiliation he'd suffered as well as the fact that her children had entered the divine realm.
She was sure he was plotting something, or rather someone else was doing the plotting for him. Saying the god's head was filled with nothing but sand would be an insult to sand, the man only knew brute force and conflict. If she had to wager a guess it would be the goddess Hepra of the Silorix, a race of serpentine aliens who could use pheromones and their silver tongues to manipulate situations in their favor.
Honestly, Gaia hated engaging in stereotype, but she couldn't help it if the snake-like aliens and their goddess were snake oil salesmen...literally, at one point in their history they had genuinely tried to sell off their own body oils. Actually, if she recalled correctly there was still a niche market for the stuff, but she hadn't kept any kind of close tabs on the race, both out of disinterest and because their children hadn't had much interaction with each other.
Humans were distrustful of a race who could potentially alter their thinking without their knowledge or consent and despite all assurances had chosen to limit their contact with the species until they could develop a counteractive agent to their pheromone control. There was apparently quite some interest in this potential product from other races who always seemed to be on the losing end of negotiations with the Silorix.
Naturally the Silorix and their goddess did not hold the greatest impression of humanity after that and, while not openly hostile, Gaia would have been a fool not to notice the steadily building animosity aimed at her.
Their contacts on the other side had been in touch a few times, speaking to Gaia through their prayers and providing updates on their progress. They had a lead on a possible route home and they had gotten the idea from her own description of how they had entered her realm in the first place.
As she had explained, normally the fabric of space is solid and the inhabitants of a plane can only move across its surface, but when the humans had folded it, they had made it malleable enough to pierce. That much was obvious, but the scientists had posed a question. Even if the space-folding technology was no longer active and space had been restored to its original state, separating the Piercer from the mortal plane...was the hole they had made still there?
Calculations had to be done on their end, but as someone much more sensitive to the nature of the universe and considerably more powerful, they had asked if she could use whatever divine methods were at her disposal to see if she could detect the presence of the theoretical spatial tear.
Concerned as she was about the lack of response to her children's arrival, this was a good opportunity to kill two birds with one stone. Since the Piercer had entered the realm nearer to the domains of the other gods, she could check for the tear and try to obtain news on the movements of the other gods, namely Tarkus, Hepra, and their ilk.
Respect, fear, and resentment. She could feel the stares containing some mixture of all three whenever she ventured outside of her domain and they were one of the reasons she rarely left. Her power was such that respect had to be given and when angered enough to wield it fear was the only response, but the resentment she sensed had been growing for eons now.
They didn't understand how they weren't more powerful than her yet, after extending their reach so far into the mortal plane and drinking in the power of worship for so long. What made it so that she could keep pace with them when she had never done the same? How could this borderline isolationist goddess be so powerful when she neglected the only known route to that power?
And now the resentment had reached a new peak, she could feel it in their gazes as she ventured out to see if the tear her children had emerged from still existed. They could sense the power of worship about her, faint as it was, and she smiled lightly as she felt the brief flashes of undisguised fear before their owners managed to conceal their feelings.
Before she was a threat, but one that held no interest in their endeavors and offered no opposition to their machinations in the mortal plane. But what about now?
"If you're going to stare, you might as well do it openly, don't you think?"
Her sudden words caused a myriad of nearby presences to vanish one after another until a single deity remained to reveal themselves. A small frown of immediate annoyance tugged at the corners of Gaia's mouth as her gaze fell upon an serpentine woman clad in nothing but gold and precious jewels.
"Hello, Hepra, pray tell what are you scheming this time?"
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----------------------------------------------- Hey-o, Hype here
Sorry if it feels a bit rough or disjointed, just trying to get back into the groove of things. Bit difficult picking up again after a long absence but this is still very much a story I want to see to it's conclusion.~
Love y'all 3000

I find myself often on my knees silently streaming down my face and screaming inside my head just praying for the pain to stop.
I chose leave because it felt like only I was willing to work on our issues and he was unwilling to go to therapy. Obviously the issues are complex and lengthy which I won't go into here. But for the last year our sex life basically died. We lived together for 10 years and still everything in my home a year and a half later reminds me of him. Some other dynamics were that financial dynamics were skewed.. I was carrying most of the costs and I was growing resentful of him and at that time felt that he wasn't trying in his career. Etc and etc and etc lists go on as to why we are here today. None of those issues matter today. I would give up my left arm to try again with him.
We decided to amicably break up and there was no fighting and it was a very peaceful divorce while intense and purposes. Some might even say loving and caring and respectful. Supposed we never stopped having feelings for each other.
You know what the f-ed up part is? We both met people this year that we are dating. I'm in a healthy, loving albeit new relationship with its own dynamic but its made me realize that as I build with someone else all I want to do is build with him. I've been angry for so long that it's blinded me to it. We are still on talking terms and I would never overstep or be disrespectful to his relationship and I don't know what he's feeling. If he is meant to be with someone else in this lifetime than I will wait for him in the next. I don't even care about any of the issues we had before. All I can think is how we could overcome it if we both wanted to. From the outside of my life looks great. I have a good job. A lovely home. Amazing friends. But I don't talk about any of this. This crushing grief and sadness that brings me to my knees anytime of the day.
How am I this sad and grieving one and a half years later? Everything was so clear at the time of divorce that it was the right path. Maybe we both needed to go on our separate journeys to see each other again but I see him now. So clearly. And I'm so sorry for my failings. I was so angry for so long on the inside after the divorce at the injustice of the situation and I know he probably would have tried to reconcile then. But I wasn't ready. Don't know what to do. Just feel lonely and crushingly sad. I'm tired of seeming perfect on the outside.
(Not sure if this is helpful to know but there was no cheating or betrayal in the relationship. We divorced because it felt like we just weren't connecting and we're making each other happy and we decided rather than break down the respect that we had for each other, it was better to do it earlier than later.) Now it feels like we gave up too easily.

Being told to deal with the Sorcerers now by the shadowy cabal of Asgorath-worshiping monks, I proceeded to do just that.
Well, more specifically, I looked for wherever the hell they holed themselves up in.
The faithful of Bahamut shot me frosty glares as I walked around the city unimpeded, though I did very pointedly give them a very strongly worded letter about spying on me and ambushing me, and that if Nakk wasn't going to tolerate their shit, he wasn't going to tolerate mine.
Hopefully, that bought me some breathing room.
Now, the Sorcerers hadn't fucked off elsewhere, or I would have gotten a lot of questions as to where they went. They still operated in the town, still used their magic appropriately, so it wasn't like they were being assholes about it.
But, considering I was being warned about them specifically, shit was about to go down.
Now, I didn't go alone. Not specifically. I had my Warlocks move about, searching for any clues as to the whereabouts of the Sorcerers.
Naturally, they were extremely dodgy about where they were going.
But, the more we looked, the more we found clues, the more we got closer until we realized they were gathering under the Council Chamber.
So there they were, all nine of them, not counting the however many probably awoke due to my machinations. Nine Sorcerers, Nine Warlocks, and me.
They were gathered around some sort of sacrificial altar that was stained with blood, on which they were very pointedly bleeding on.
"You know-" I said, startling them and causing them to look at me. "-If you'd just been respectful to my Master, you might have gotten more than you could have ever dreamed of."
"Ruuk, what are you doing here!?" Goss hissed.
"Looking for you before you get yourselves killed." I said. "I've been warned twice that you were getting into some shit, and here I find you bleeding all over an altar that isn't even configured right, you fucking idiots."
They shared looks, first shocked, then angry. They started yelling, my Warlocks screamed into their heads to shut up, which caused them all to rub their heads.
"Which one of you has the highest Level?" I asked. "Goss? Taklak? Kashak?"
"I am a solid Level 4!" Molo bragged.
"That's it?" I asked. "Fuck's sake, I'm Level 6. I've been out there busting my fucking ass. We got invaded while you were playing fucking secret society! People died!"
"We wouldn't have lost anyone, if Kurtulmak gave us power!" Hagnar snapped.
"No, we would have lost more." I said. "If you actually cared about the Warren, you would have been out there, leading rather than plotting."
"Says the man who's clearly getting boosted by Kurtulmak!"
I strode toward them, my patience wearing thin. "I want to make something very clear now." I said. "You've wasted more time trying to get stronger than it took me. You think hard work hardly works? Hit me." I removed my armor. "I'm wide open."
They didn't do anything, they just stared at me with wide eyes. "Oh, this? This isn't armor." I said. "It's a sign of my fealty to my Master. Now, Hit me."
The spells were flung at me, and most of them did hurt. "Nine of you." I said, grinning. "And you couldn't even hit me properly. Kneel."
They began backing away.
"I said kneel!" I roared.
They all fell over themselves as they tried to kneel. They all looked terrified.
"I am going to give you exactly one chance to make up for your foolish behavior." I said. "I will call you out one by one, you will approach, you will kiss my hand, and you will swear your undying loyalty to me, your Imperator, and the Empire that our Master will raise. If you refuse, I will end your pathetic excuse for a life right then and there. And if even one of you attacks me, my Warlocks will make that scream in your mind feel like a gentle tickle."
I held my hand out. "Goss." He scrambled over to me and knelt. He took my hand and kissed it. "I swear my loyalty to you, my Imperator, and the Empire our Master will raise." He said.
"Good. Stand among my Warlocks. Arix."
One by one I called their names, and they came. They spoke their vows, all nine of them.
I put my armor back on and said, "Excellent. From this moment on, every hour, one of you will go to my Tower, you will pledge your fealty to our Master, and you will allow him to mark you such that you can never disobey him again." I looked at them. "And if even one of you tries to escape, I will track you down as easily as I have now. You are marked, each and every one of you. I will make your deaths as slow and miserable as I see fit. My Empire has no room for traitors."
"Yes, Imperator!" They said.
"Dismissed."
They all left, clearly trying not to piss themselves or run. I felt a wonderfully powerful sense of pleasure and smiled. "Warlocks." I said. "Continue about your day."
I cleaned up the mess the Sorcerers had made left the Councilor Chamber. I ran into Tallyn on the way out.
"Brother." He said.
"Sibling." I replied.
"What are you doing here?" He asked.
"The Sorcerers were trying to summon a Demon for power." I said. "Considering they tried to petition my Master for power as well- he denied them, rightly noticing they did not care how they got power- I threatened to kill them if they kept trying, ordered them to submit to my Master, whereupon they will be marked such that they will no longer be a threat to the Warren."
He stared at me in utter shock. "Did you-? Do you hear yourself?" He asked in a horrified whisper.
"Brother." I said. "This is an outright Demon we're talking about. We're lucky they're fucking idiots and didn't make their altar correctly, so they were just bleeding on a fucking slab of rock with pentagrams and shit on it. They attacked me. That on top of your fellow Paladins ambushing me and accusing me of conspiracy-" I gave him a pointed look, "-my capacity of mercy is very low at the moment."
"Ruuk... What happened to you?" He asked.
"You and your Temple tried to kill me." I replied. "For the sins of compassion and mercy." I shrugged. "I've tried meeting you and yours half way, I sought atonement out of guilt, to rectify what I had done. I've tried to walk the path of good, and the cold, simply truth is, you and your order have not given me much incentive to continue to walk that path."
He was silent.
"Tallyn." I said, taking hold of his hands. "I miss the days when you were the good brother." I was able to see the exact moment when his heart ripped right in half. I walked right past him. I was tired of his shit, and at that moment, I wasn't going to play his or his Temple's game anymore.
I took a deep breath to try and center myself, as I started heading back for my Tower.
"Has it become your mission in life to leap merrily from the slippery slope?" A familiar voice asked me. I turned around, coming face to face with a gray-scaled Kobold, behind him were seven others with ruddy yellow scales.
"You've certainly changed since I last saw you." Bahamut stated. "A turn for the worse, it would seem."
I gave him a reverential bow. "I take it the Fizban persona wouldn't work now." I remarked.
"No, it wouldn't." He said. "All your doing, it would seem."
"Indeed. My doing." I couldn't help but smile.
"And with such pride as well. Walk with me, and understand I speak with you only because what I have to say is important."
I nodded and walked beside him, his seven companions following as inconspicuously as a septet of yellow Kobolds could- which I had to admit was surprisingly good.
"I am not happy." He stated.
"I sincerely doubt you would." I replied.
"With you, I expected it." He remarked dryly. "My followers have been playing fast and loose with their morals, day by day, their actions speak louder than their affirmations of faith, and what they say is, 'We are only concerned with our own power'. Does that amuse you?"
"No." I replied. "In fact, it pisses me off."
"The gradual corruption of a sect of holy warriors disgusts you?" He asked, his tone carrying a hint of surprise. "For all your posturing about, you still manage to get things done, even if they're via less morally sound standpoints."
"Is there a purpose to this beyond chatting?" I asked.
"Yes." He said. "One way or another, this Warren will become a theocratic nation, your faith spreads like wildfire, while the faith of my followers tapers off. You've manipulated events such that you are winning, and my followers have nobody to blame but themselves."
We stopped in front of the Temples, he looked at them. "Kurtulmak is relapsing." He said. "And you are walking a narrow rope between good and evil. Between judicious rule and tyranny." He looked at me. "And unfortunately, in spite of my best efforts, it is becoming harder and harder to maintain contact with this world."
He paused, then added, "I will, of course, be supporting my faithful, trying to keep them on the correct path, but in the event they utterly fail, and the only option left is you, I would rather the lesser evil of you win than the greater evil that is my sister. This is not tolerance, this is ensuring that no matter what, the forces of good can always pick up the pieces."
"I understand." I said. "And Bahamut... I am sorry things turned out this way."
"Your apology is sincere." He remarked, surprised. "I am sorry for the way I treated you in Darastrixthurhi, I chose the wrong course of action."
"You don't deal in words, but actions." I said. "Therefore your apology is sincere."
"Within the mines, there is a yet-untouched vein of platinum in your Warren's mine, enough to supply enough holy symbols for my Clerics, and to forge one sword, fifth level down, three lefts, and at the far end. I leave it up to you how you will handle that information. And Ruuk, remember the entire point of you remaining down there was because you believed Kurtulmak could be redeemed. Do not forget that can apply to you as well."
He walked away, followed by his cadre of Kobolds.
'I sure as hell don't like his followers...' I thought as I headed for the mines. 'But I definitely respect him a lot more.'
My gear compelled me to do good, and right now, I was in a better mood. I gathered a few miners and told them to follow me. They did so hesitantly, but dug where I indicated. I watched as they dug maybe a half-mile before they yapped.
"There's ore here!"
"I know." I said. "Mine out the entire vein and take it to the Artificers. It's platinum, they're going to need it soon."
I left them to their work and headed for the Artificers. Once there, I had them gather around.
"You will be receiving a shipment of Platinum, once it comes in, you are to create enough Holy Symbols of Bahamut to equip each Cleric, as well as one sword. Once they have finished, you will deliver them immediately to my Tower. Do not tell anyone what they are. Understood?"
"Sure, but why?"
"Simple." I said. "I need them to get the fuck off my case and start realizing they're only hurting the Warren. Their God saw fit to speak with me, so it's in my hands whether or not they continue to measure out rope to hang themselves with."
It was several hours before the crates came in. I wordlessly picked them up and carried them to the Temple.
The Paladins were, of course, pissed when they saw me approaching. "Stop right there!" They snapped. "By the High Priest's orders, you are not allowed in here!"
"Your weapons and your faith isn't enough to stop me." I said. "Fucking try me."
I walked straight up to them, and my attempt at intimidation worked, as they backed away while I walked in.
Galax immediately noticed my entry, as did every Cleric and Paladin in the room.
"Who let you in!?" Galax roared. "I have expressly forbidden you from entry!"
"I let myself in." I said. I walked toward him, glanced around, and sighed. "Do you guys just not believe in tables, or is the whole ascetic aesthetic really this fucking sparse?"
"I am warning you, Stingtail, if you do not leave this Holy Temple, I will have no choice but to kill you."
I wreched the top off the crate I brought in, he glanced at them, then his eyes widened in complete shock. "What..? Those are..."
"Holy symbols to Bahamut, made from the vein of platinum I directed the workers to." I said. He stared at me, clearly incapable of comprehending what I'd done.
"Why..?" He asked.
"Because you've been playing fast and loose with your morals." I said, paraphrasing what Bahamut stated. "Even though you preach Bahamut's words, you've forgotten that actions are how you pray. You've become so enamored with bringing about the perfect theocratic kingdom of Bahamut, that you don't even realize you're telling the people you're only concerned with power."
I handed him the sword crate, which he opened.
"I want you to understand, Galax." I said. "Bahamut came to me and told me where the platinum was. I could have kept it secret, or I could have used it for literally anything else. Because as much as Bahamut was disappointed in you, he wasn't giving up on you. And as much as he's rooting for you, he understands if you fall, it's either the lesser evil in me, or the greater evil in Tiamat. And honestly? I'll gladly leap headlong into Hell if it means keeping this Warren safe. This is your last chance from Bahamut, and your last warning from me. Understood?"
"I understand." He said soberly. He approached me and hugged me. "Ruuk, oh Ruuk... I thought we had lost you."
"You did." I said. "And I'm not coming back into your fold." He let go of me. "I don't know what the fuck you need a platinum sword for, but whatever it is, if it's aimed anywhere near me, I'm exploding people's heads."
I turned around and left the Temple.
Returning to my Tower, I felt the anger I'd been holding in just melt away. I went upstairs and smiled when I was my Emperor was finishing up another armor set.
"That makes seven." He said. "Still far too little, but it's more than we had before."
"Tireless and industrious." I remarked as I approached him. I knelt. "I have news, some you likely won't like."
"Tell me this bad news first." He said.
"Bahamut decided to speak with me." I said. He tensed, his eyes widened as he looked at me. "Thus far, he's not particularly pleased with my... progress, but he's at least indicated he'd rather us winning over Tiamat." I paused. "He also told me of the location of some platinum. I deigned to give his worshipers holy symbols and a sword, as he had directed. As nice as it would be to have them fall under their own stupidity, we still need them."
My Emperor nodded. "There was no correct way." He said. "Keeping Bahamut less inclined to try and smite us is better than his Temple getting holy symbols. Was there anything else?"
"Yeah. I told them what he told me, he wasn't pleased with what they were doing, that they were acting like they only care about power, and that Bahamut came to me rather than them."
"I see." He said. "That devious old bastard."
"What is it, my Emperor?" I asked.
"It's unimportant." He said. "Was there anything else?"
I told him about the ambush, the Shadowscale Clan, and the Sorcerers- he indicated that a few had shown up and pledged their fealty to him, and that due to their transgressions, he ensured they would never disobey him.
"I made them some collars." He said, smirking. "Any time they go against my will, or they try something that will harm the Warren, it chokes them long enough to make them stop." He leered at me and added, "I should have done the same to yours. I'd never have it choke you, but the knowledge alone would have excited you, yes?"
"Not really, my Emperor." I admitted. "I'm terrified of choking."
"Is that so? All the better that I didn't, then." He looked thoughtful. "Tell me, was there any particular logic to your choice of giving Bahamut's Clerics holy symbols and a sword?"
I shrugged. "I don't like his followers." I said. "I told you what I said to Tallyn, I'm sick and tired of them being paranoid about me. Like, yeah, I admit that they have every right to be at this point, but when it was just you and me, they didn't even really give me a chance. It just felt like them going mask off and showing themselves to be no different than any other religion I've had the unfortunate experience to try."
"Yet you respect their God." He mused.
"Yeah." I said. "I do. Everything I've done out of spite was because of those hypocrites, every good word I've spoken to them was a challenge for them to get their shit together. I've never once done anything to spite Bahamut himself- though whether that was simple pragmatism on my part, or some latent desire to serve the first God to accept my challenge to prove they exist... I don't know. All I know is that I don't regret choosing you."
"As should be." He remarked. "These Monks, these followers of Asgorath, have you any thoughts on them?"
"As long as they are true to their word, I could see them having a place in our Empire." I said. "Having a group that's willing to deal with you if you go off the deep end and start oppressing the very people you started out wanting to protect is useful. At the very least, I'll potentially have a warning."
"And do you think Bahamut's Temple has a place in our Empire?" He asked.
"Maybe if they got their shit together." I replied. I looked at him. "My Emperor, was there ever a point you honestly considered compromise?"
"Yes, in honor of a fool who would choose to consign his life to a God he barely knew, simply out of compassion. I am ruthless, yes, I may be a liar when it is convenient for me, and I most assuredly will twist such compromise such that the letter, but not the spirit, is carried out. But when I make a solemn vow, I hold true to it. If you cannot keep a promise, nobody will believe you again."
"And nudging me toward evil?" I asked.
"You took the first step." He said. "Some actions transcend morality. Kindness to one's family, it is not merely good. It is an act that ensures survival, an act that builds trust. There is always room for kindness when it is deserved."
I nodded. "My Emperor... Do you see a place for Bahamut's Temple in our Empire?" I asked.
"Anything can have its place." He replied. "The only grudge I have held for him is that he- self-proclaimed Justicemaker- did nothing simply because our people were born of Chromatic Dragons. Perhaps in those days, we were born into evil, perhaps in those days, we were enemies... Yet they raged, knowing what Garl did was wrong... heinous even. It was targeted retaliation for something his children did first, for the natural result of- I believe the term is 'fucking around and finding out'."
"Good old FAFO." I remarked.
I heard the door open, followed by Molo meekly coming up the stairs. When he saw me, he looked terrified. He approached my Emperor and pledged himself, was collared, and sent on his way.
"Seven out of nine so far." My Emperor mused.
"Good, it means most of them got the memo." I replied. I heard the door open, then shut, followed by footsteps approaching us.
It was the Rogue from earlier. He knelt and said, "Master, Imperator, I am here to report that we have successfully managed to leave beyond the wall and enter our enemies' base of operations. We have managed to do this without being spotted. Our Leader is waiting for you."
I nodded. "By your leave, my Emperor." I said.
My Emperor nodded and I followed the Rogue down a street I've been on countless times, one that was open and public. I recognized the house I was led to as Nakk's, the rogue knocked, and the door opened.
"Councilor Ruuk, thank you for coming. I'm sorry to divert you just to fix some of my stuff." Nakk said amiably, gesturing for me to enter.
I simply nodded and went inside. The moment the door shut, he dropped the amiable demeanor and said, "Thank you for coming, Imperator. This way."
He led me into his house, then into a closet. I didn't expect the floor to move underneath us, but it led us down into a large room.
"You have a basement." I observed.
"This is my base of operations." He said. "This was where our sewer system used to be, cleaning it out was a headache and a half, but since we moved onto more sustainable means of addressing waste- Merti's idea to use it as fertilizer and the Artificers' Guild designing a means of filtering and cleansing urine being particularly inspired- we decided to make use of the existing architecture to ensure our stealthy movement through the town."
"That explains why nobody's really wised up to how you've been spying on everyone." I remarked. "What were your plans, before I found our Emperor?"
"Keep everything stable." He replied. I noticed there were a few Kobold Monks present among the dozens of Rogues. "Rogue, Monk, we're all Shadowscale." He said. "That being said, our Monks are strictly neutral, they made it clear they won't align themselves to a singular ideal, their only interest is ensuring the Warren does not devolve into infighting."
"As I've already seen." I remarked.
"They're happy with how you handled the Temple, though they can't fathom how you found the platinum."
"Bahamut visited me." I said. "I honestly thought he was being obvious."
"That would explain it." I didn't notice the Monk walking on my other side, but it sure as hell startled me. "You are here regarding the recent mission's success, we ensured nobody was detected."
"Our Monks do not identify themselves." Nakk spoke. "I don't understand it, but it's what they agreed was the right course of action, so we just go along with it."
"For the sake of convenience, you may call me Fox." The Monk spoke. "And before you ask, we have all elected to live apart from the Warren. We may walk the streets, but until things have achieved equilibrium, we will continue to observe from the shadows."
I nodded.
We came over to an area where a handful of Rogues were sat. They stood up as soon as they noticed us, and began casting spells to show the interior of our enemy's base of operations. It felt like a punch to the gut, seeing not only electricity clearly being supplied to them, but also having established sinks and refrigerators.
They glut themselves on what we struggled to provide for ourselves, things that needed miracles just to sustain us. Through tears of hatred, I spat out my incantation.
​
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Salam everyone! I’m trying to find a head covering long enough for my hair and doesn't cover my mouth. I have locs(dreadlocks) that are past my backside (about 41” or 104cm) from my hairline to my ends about 48” ~ 50” inches or 127cm). I hope to find a brand so I don’t have to make one myself.
I’m new to covering/praying even though I was born Muslim (shahada whispered in my ear as a baby). My mom is not Muslim but is supportive and respectful of my beliefs.
I would appreciate any brand recommendations and tips about securing my hijab and what shape (rectangle or square, etc.).
Thank you

Sorry this is so lengthy, I have to explain a bit and my brothers email is long too lol. I recently decided to send an email to my 7 siblings and my parents letting them know I no longer believe in the church. (one brother is already out and I had told him a while ago) I didn't go into much detail why, just one sentence basically saying I decided to stop ignoring all the disturbing things I knew about the church, and did my own research into church history regarding polygamy/polyandry, race, the BoM, and Joseph Smith, to name a few, and couldn't align myself with that history anymore. The rest of my email was just letting them know that I love them, had no intentions of distancing myself from them, that I wanted them to feel comfortable discussion church things around me, at our house, and while we are hanging out. Told them I still want to be there for their family's events like baptisms and what not.
I got mostly very accepting loving responses. I was actually very surprised by my parents response. They just said they appreciate how hard it must have been to tell everyone, and they respect my decision and love me. Very nice responses from everyone.
But my one brother of course felt the need to testify and tell me he knew everything I'd learned and, well I'll let you read his reply. I don't want to debate with him, or even try to explain myself anymore. As much as I'd like to let him know some of the things aren't "holes", but mountains of horrible evidence that prove the falsehoods and horrible history of the church, I don't think I should get into it with him. So I know I should probably just say, "thanks for the concern, I'm glad you were able to continue on in your faith and that it makes you happy."
But I am curious to see other ideas for a response. Here is his reply:
First off, I want you to know that I love you so much! I can only imagine how difficult it must have been for you as you have been silently wrestling with your questions and doubts for so long. My heart aches for you.
I had a similar experience during my masters at BYU, where my church history professor chose to lay it ALL out on the table; the good, the bad, and the ugly. It seems like he was deliberately trying to scare us away or something. (I'm going to share my experience here. I know that you said in your email that it would not be helpful or useful to discuss the things you've learned. And while I would do all I can to persuade and help you reconsider your decision, if you were ever willing to discuss; this is not that. I just want you to know that I have an understanding of where you are coming from.)
l will admit, I really struggled with a few things that we researched. For a time, it caused me to question a lot of things. However, I was blessed to be in a place where I could ask questions and work through my doubts. While I found many resolutions to my troubles, what I found in the end, was that there were certain questions that could not, or would not be answered right now. There was just not enough available information. Holes in the stories, that I had to believe will someday be filled. History only exists in the records and memories that have been left for us. And those records and memories will often be incomplete puzzles. Sometimes, that leaves us with pictures that are disturbing. In the end I believe those pictures will be complete, and yes, some of them will still be disturbing, but we will understand. Even Jesus Christ exists because people made mistakes. (He came through the line of Tamar and Judah, and then David and Bathsheba.) Does the choices of His ancestors change who He is? No. The church was not restored in a day. Along the way there were things to be learned, and mistakes to be made, by imperfect men and women.
I had to trust the testimony that I had in the Book of Mormon and its testimony of Jesus Christ. I had to believe that this book could not have been written or translated by one that was not called of God. It could not have been made up. "By their fruits ye shall know them." Was Joseph fallible? Absolutely yes. Did he do everything right? No. But God chooses to work through very imperfect people every day to do great things, just like me and you. I had too many small yet significant and real witnesses in my life to allow these incomplete puzzles to destroy what I already knew to be true.
This quote from Elder Holland, carried me through many difficult times, "Hold fast to what you already know, and stand strong till additional knowledge comes." In fact, that whole talk was instrumental in helping me through that time. https://www.churchofjesuschrist.org/study/general-conference/2013/04/lord-i-believe?lang=eng
Now, after all that, somehow I made it through the other side of that battle on this side of the church. Sadly, after your battle, that is not the case for you. I am not angry at you my brother. I just hurt for you and your family. I love you so much, and nothing will ever change that. I will never stop praying that you can someday work through these things and return. I know what it's like to fight your battle, and live on this side with a peaceful heart. I wish that I would have been a better brother, so maybe there may have been a chance that we could have discussed these things before it landed you here. But, nevertheless, you are where you are. I can't change that, but I do want you to know that I am always here for you. If you ever find yourself in a place where you are willing to discuss these things, I am here and willing to fight this fight with you again. If this is tomorrow, two weeks, two months, two years, or 20 years, I am here for you.
Until then, if "then" ever comes, I will be here for you regardless. In the meantime, I would still love to know where you stand with God and Jesus Christ. I would love to know what common ground we still share in our faith. I would never want to avoid common ground, just because we are afraid to breach uncommon ground.
I am saddened by how close we have lived to each other, and how little time we've spent together. That needs to change. I guess I just get so busy in the nitty gritty of life, that I forget about how special you and family are to me. I am grateful for your desire and commitment to stay close to the family. Let's make sure that happens. I love you my brother !!! Praying for you and your family!

Fleur had been held under the Cruciatus for too long and her mind had begun to fray. Bits of her personality went first losing the haughty, flightiness of childhood. Then some of her less important memories like her favorite dessert and the names of her imaginary friends.
Then, right before her losses became irreversible, her mind cracked and she lost control of her thoughts. All her consciousness was aware of pain and only pain. She prayed, begged, and pleaded for it to end. She professed loyalty, fealty, her life and all others to anyone who could help, to Krum if he would just stop, but the pain continued unabated.
After an eternity, on the cusp of losing all of herself, the curse was stopped. By this point Fleur had no discernible thoughts and just slipped in and out of consciousness. She saw flashes of a duel; deathly spells and horrific hexes flying between Krum and her savior. It all faded until she felt herself be cradled and red sparks shoot up.
There in the arms of her savior, all she saw was the angelic face of Harry Potter. He came for her. He stopped the curse. Not her parents, not Madame Maxime, not Dumbledore, nor either ministry. No, it was the boy who she had discounted and was proven her wrong multiple times. He had taken out Krum and saved her from an eternity of torture. He came for her.
Harry had arrived late. He had heard the screams several hedges over and anguished as the voice creaked and cracked. He did everything he could to find a way to reach whoever it was. Harry bound and wove through the maze and, eventually after harrowing minutes listening to the voice lose strength, arrived to see Krum standing over Fleur who had long since lost her voice.
A quick back and forth left Harry with no choice but to interrupt Krum to have him stop. The shudder and coughing from Fleur at the release of the spell cause bile to squirm in Harry's stomach. Anger and disgust for the Bulgarian ran through him as his spells became less about incapacitating him and more about casting him down.
After what seemed like hours, Krum fell to the concussive force of a blasting curse. Summoning Krum's wand, Harry turned and checked over Fleur. He saw her breathing level out and become less strained as he lifted her from the awkward position she had been left in. As he tried to lay her down, Fleur seemed to come to and clutch at Harry.
As Fleur stared at him, he felt something in her eyes change. Before the second task she looked at him like an interesting side show. Afterwards, she looked at him like the rest of Gryffindor: there goes the Boy Who Lived, Harry Potter. Now, her eyes held something entirely different.
In that brief instant, Fleur's gaze seemed to convey a message of respect and admiration. It was as if she acknowledged Harry's strength, not just as a competitor but as a person. Her eyes held gratitude and promise, a silent acknowledgment of his presence in her darkest hour.

From here it could go however you would want it to. Does Fleur go all crazy and kill off the competition for Harry's affection? Does her obsessive love provide a much needed affection in a time of isolation for Harry leading to two yandere being in love with one an other?

Hi there!! I'm Jay! :)
I want to find a guy that is compatible to me and shares the same values. Hoping to find him here!
I am a 22 year old who graduated college and and am currently living in New York!
I am looking to form a bond with someone, and then continue with an in person relationship!
A bit about me: - I have natural hair that I like to keep short, and I occasionally like wearing different wig styles to show my personality!
-I am on a weight loss journey! So I cherish healthy living and fitness. I am looking for someone who will motivate me to make the right decisions but at the same time also loves my body the way it is right now. I am currently 170lbs, my goal is around 130-140lbs. I've done it before, so I know I can do it again! I love walking and being active so definitely looking for a man who is the same!
-I am looking for someone who is mature and is established. Meaning, a man who works hard every day in any aspect of his life (career, family, or fitness). Someone who is level headed. But I am also looking for someone fun, kind, affectionate, and chill to hang out with!
-I am looking for a man who will prioritize spending time with me, whether it is virtually or in person. Someone who communicates and is neither pushy on me texting back within seconds, but someone who respects me enough to let me know if they're busy/to expect a longer wait time. Someone who is not shy to take random pictures of themselves and send them to me just so I know those silly little thoughts you have. Also someone who doesn't mind me taking tons of pictures too (because I do take a lot of pictures haha)
-I believe in communication! I need someone emotionally available, someone who isn't afraid to have those long, deep conversations with me. Someone who will hear me out and not judge me. A man that really listens but also has enough confidence to speak up too!
-My love languages are words of affirmations and quality time! It's my top two love languages :) Also, I want a man who intentionally plans dates/hang outs/skype sessions, and wants to genuinely have fun with me!
-I love anime! I watch so much anime, and I need a guy who is willing to watch some with me!
A bit about my careeschool...
-I am a published author! I have written 3 books, first one dating back when I was only 13! I was introduced to the publishing industry at a young age, so I went to college to study creative writing. I am currently minoring in creative writing and majoring in psychology! What I plan to do in the future is become a liscensed Expressive Writing therapist and/or create books for the youth to help their mental health!
-I used to have 3 on campus jobs when I was on campus. Library Assistant, tutor, and I work at the gym as a proctor. I am going to be starting a new job soon so I would consider myself a busy person, but I ALWAYS make sure to prioritize my relationships that are serious, and I expect my man to do the same with me.
***I consider myself to be a religious person, and this is something that value. I am Catholic and hope to meet someone who shares my faith! I'm looking for a deep connection, where we can pray together and listen to gospel music!
*** I smoke weed! So I am also looking for a man who does the same! I'm very 420 friendly!
*** I would consider myself to be asexual, which means that I want to form a relationship where sex is not a priority and isn't expected of me. Sending nudes is also something I will not participate in and is a hard boundary. However, I am an extremely romantic person and value intimacy and closeness in other ways! If you want clarification on this, I will gladly explain further over PM!
I am open to talking to anyone between the ages of 22-29 years old!
I want to say that I am a very open-minded person and welcome many different guys! Please decide for yourself if you meet these qualities and send me a message! All I ask for is commitment to having something serious and someone who is ready for that. Looking forward to finding you!

Here is a reference:

...You are the SGI. If you are not happy with SGI, you must work harder to make it better. Leaving the SGI is the same as trying to escape your karma, which can’t be done. The people who quit are deluded traitors. Those who betray the SGI are betraying Nichiren. They will experience retribution. Those who leave come crawling back to SGI begging for forgiveness.... Source

Here are some early sources - from none other than Icky Duh himself!

During the last war when the government and the military persecuted Mr. Makiguchi and Mr. Toda, it is said that most of the three thousand members at that time gave up the faith. This brings home to us the truth of Shikyonanji mentioned by Nichiren Daishonin.

I don't know what "shikyonanji" means. Anyone?
Edit: It might mean "the difficulty of maintaining faith (in the time period following the Buddha's extinction)".

These persons are now in the depths of poverty, and living in misery. Many of them have come to ask me to forgive them and permit them to have the Gohonzon once more. In 1950 and 1951, when Sansho and Shima beset upon [sic] Mr. Toda, many members doubted the Gohonzon and abandoned the Sokagakkai. Most of them have come to ask pardon and to be allowed to join the Society [Sokagakkai] again.

Really? Why are such examples never named? Ikeda is constantly alluding to anonymous examples who either do what he wishes people would do or who illustrate what he wishes was happening in reality.

Later, our Society encountered many trials in the form of abuse and libel in the Japanese presses and magazines and every stormy situation saw some persons quit the Society. They, however, are now asking for the Gohonzon and affiliation with the Sokagakkai again, attracted by the present influential position and splendid unity of the Society. When Miss Kashiwabara, Mr. Harashima and Mr. Kodaira failed in the Upper House election a few years ago, many left the Sokagakkai, saying, "Why this outcome, if we have the great Gohonzon?" A few years later they came to ask for readmission to the Society when they saw that the three leaders⏤Mr. Harashima and MIss Kashiwabara⏤gained the largest number of votes, and mr. Kodaira also received a fairly good ballot.
The human mind is really unreliable. It is difficult indeed to keep faith in the Gohonzon in difficult situations. Those who have never lost the faith in the Gohonzon in spite of slander and abuse from their neighbors have without fail become quite happy, all of them receiving great divine favor.
Those who went astray have invited complete failure. They are beset by difficulties. Indeed, after ten or fifteen years there arises a surprising difference between piety and impiety. - Ikeda, ""Shikyonanji" speech, November 7, 1960, from Lectures on Buddhism Vol. I, The Seikyo Press, Tokyo, 1962, pp. 216-217.

Welp, I've been out over 15 years and I'm doing far better than I was as an SGI membeleader - and I'm doing better than anyone I knew in SGI (except for that one couple who got rich through entrepreneurship, built their dream home in Leucadia, CA, and a year later, the husband was dead of cancer), even those who'd practiced far longer than me. Even the Japanese ex-pat war bride "pioneers"!

If you desert the Gohonzon, you cannot find the way to happiness. I cannot repeat this too many times. I have seen members forsake the Gohonzon, then return to It [sic] three, seven, ten or fifteen years later. They never fail to apologize for their former behavior and begin again to pray to the Gohonzon. I told you this, hoping that you will not repeat their folly. - Ikeda, "Organization of Sokagakkai" speech, November 11, 1960, from Lectures on Buddhism Vol. I, The Seikyo Press, Tokyo, 1962, p. 232.

More of the Ikeda cult fear training.

I wish you to be assiduous in practicing Shakubuku with the firm belief that even those who abuse at first will soon come to you again saying, "Please permit me to believe in the Gohonzon." - Ikeda, "Right or Wrong of Honzon" speech, December 6, 1960, from Lectures on Buddhism Vol. I, The Seikyo Press, Tokyo, 1962, p. 278.

Hm. As if they need anyone's "permission" 🤨
And REMEMBER:

If someone criticizes our Society, he is committing one of the five deadly crimes. If he severely slanders True Buddhism, he cannot receive the divine benefits of the Gohonzon, but will live in great agony of punishment. This is the most dreadful thing one can imagine in life. - Ikeda, "Ha-Wagoso⏤Criticism of the Sokagakkai" speech, June 28, 1960, from Lectures on Buddhism Vol. I, The Seikyo Press, Tokyo, 1962, p. 118.

Fear training
And:

There is another question as to why we should have faith in the Gohonzon. If we are well-off, healthy and have no troubles there may be no necessity to believe in the Gohonzon.

Works for me!
THIS is why SGI members always recruit downward, never upward. They seek out people doing worse than themselves; that's the only kind of person they can ever hope to impress.

Such so-called health or happiness, however, will not necessarily continue forever. We cannot foretell the future. In this respect, we feel the necessity of religion. There is no one in the world without trouble or worry. Some people pretend not to suffer, but inwardly they all suffer much more bitterly than we.

Ikeda, fancying himself everyone's "omniscient narrator" 🙄
As if HE'd know the reality of the lives of people he's never even MET! Such arrogance!

In the Kampatsu-bon, the 28th Chapter of the Hokekyo [Lotus Sutra], there are explanations about the cause of misery and misfortune in life. It reads, for example, "Those who have fallen to the ground should rise up again from the very same ground." It means that those who slander the Gohonzon must suffer indefinitely and that there is therefore no other way to efface their sins and to attain Buddhahood than to praise and worship the Dai-Gohonzon.

Et tu, Ické?

A person who slanders the Gohonzon purposely or inadvertently will surely bring retribution upon himself. We suffer miserable lives because we spoke ill of the Gohonzon in the past. However hard one may strive and study, whatever honor one may have, he cannot solve his problems unless he is acquainted with the law of causality throughout the three existences of past, present and future.

Nope - people in society are doing just fine without the Ikeda cult addiction.
Then Dick-Eata Scamse goes on for several paragraphs victim-blaming the disabled for everything he makes up that they supposedly did to DESERVE those disabilities. THAT's always a good look 🙄
Ikeda also prescribes monstrous punishment for those who refuse to be ruled by him and bullies others using their familial tragedies against them:

If someone should slander us, followers of the true faith, he is certain to receive dreadful retribution. He will never be able to live in peace if he insists on persecuting us. This is stated positively in the sutras of Sakyamuni [sic] and the Gosho of Nichiren Daishonin, and there are many actual proofs for it.

That's nice, isn't it? The veiled threat: "WE will make sure they can never live in peace" 🤭
And if some delusional nobody many centuries ago wrote some delusional nonsense, that means REALITY has to conform to those ravings! BTW, Shakyamuni never declared that everyone who didn't agree with him must be "punished" - that came from the unknown writers of the Mahayana, Shakyamuni's CRITICS and DETRACTORS who fancied themselves qualified to rewrite the scriptures to be the way THEY wanted them to be - and then attribute them to Shakyamuni because they knew no one would listen to their crazy asses!

In more recent times, the officials who persecuted the presidents Tsunesaburo Makiguchi and Josei Toda met similar fates in retribution for their evil deeds. One went insane, one had his head crushed by a street-car (showing the actual proof of the Buddha's word, "The slanderer will have his head broken into seven"), and another's child drowned in a river. These are actual proof of the punishment of those who slander the Gohonzon. Let's practice Shakubuku bravely with firm knowledge that those who defame us, believers of the Gohonzon, will be punished according to their deeds. - Ikeda, "Slanderers Will Incur Punishment" speech, May 26, 1960, from Lectures on Buddhism Vol. I, The Seikyo Press, Tokyo, 1962, pp. 42-43.

Oh, that's nice, isn't it? Why don't Ikeda's direct disciples explain to us WHY Ikeda's favorite son died young (only age 29) from a perforated ulcer, which even in the year he died (1984) was rarely, if ever, fatal? Explain to us Ikeda's strokes! The Japanese describe having a stroke as "having one's head broken into 7 pieces", you know, and Icky's supposedly had TWO. WHY hasn't Ikeda made any public appearance where he spoke or delivered any kind of address on video or been interviewed by a newscaster since May, 2010, if something TERRIBLE isn't wrong that will shake EVERYBODY's faith if they were to SEE it with their own eyes?? We all KNOW what a spotlight hog Ikeda is - it's all he's ever lived for. He's chased the spotlight relentlessly his entire life; there's NO WAY he'd ever give that up unless he were FORCED to. Why does the Soka Gakkai keep Ikeda out of public view while still promoting him as everyone's "mentor" if there isn't something seriously wrong??
And hoping for critics to be punished - that's not a group you'd ever want to see in political power, is it?

'The final fate of all traitors is a degrading story of suffering and ignominy,' said President Makiguchi with keen perception. What he says is absolutely true, as you have seen with your own eyes. President Toda also declared: 'To betray the Soka Gakkai is to betray the Daishonin. You’ll know what I mean, when you see the retribution they incur at the end of their lives.' - Daisaku Ikeda

😱
Continuing with the Ikedascreed from before that bit ↑:

In order to live a happy life, solving these problems, surmounting all hardships and changing our destinies, we must worship the Dai-Gohozon [sic] with ardent faith. It is not for the sake of others, Nichiren Shoshu, or the Shiki Chapter, that we worship the Gohonzon. It is because we know that we cannot be happy unless we worship the Gohonzon. - Ikeda, "The Sin of Slandering the Gohonzon" speech, June 24, 1960, from Lectures on Buddhism Vol. I, The Seikyo Press, Tokyo, 1962, pp. 107-110.

SURE ya can! TRY IT ONCE!!
How many of YOU ever saw anyone who'd left the SGI "come crawling back, begging for forgiveness"? I never saw a single one, though I was assured they existed - somewhere...

Hi, atheist-leaning agnostic here. For the past 6-7ish years (since senior year of HS) I’ve been off and on interested in religion. I’ve so badly wanted to believe for so long and I’m starting to lose hope that I ever can. I’ve bounced around between hardcore atheism, conservative Catholicism, Hinduism, polytheism, and everywhere in-between and I don’t know what to do. I feel so lost and stuck. I sometimes feel like atheism is my baseline and I don’t know how to change that. I feel like I’ve never really experienced God or know what that would actually feel like - I have never really had a religious experience in my life. I’ve asked questions here before and I’ve been so happy at the well thought out and kind responses I’ve gotten and I feel so drawn to the Episcopal Church so I figured this is the best place to go for advice. I would really love it if somebody could help me get some insight into what I can do going forward, especially if their experience mirrors my own.
I grew up passively theistic - loosely believing in God and heaven and feeling like the universe had intrinsic meaning. I went to mass a couple of times and did the “culturally catholic” thing, even going to Catholic high school. My Mom is the same as me in terms of belief while my dad is an agnostic atheist. During and right after my senior year of high school I became really interested in Christianity and did lots of deep diving into learning about the faith. I read bits of the bible and felt very comforted. This changed on my way to moving into college, I remember reading one of the gospels and I just couldn’t believe that any of the miracles happened which lead to a complete loss of what little faith I had. The following months I bounced between atheism, extremely whitewashed Hinduism, spirituality, and christianity. I was passively interested in Catholicism for a short time and read through some of the catechism for some reason but nothing came of it. I remained happily atheistic until the summer after my sophomore year when I had a horrific response to smoking weed which caused an existential crisis that left me with debilitating derealization for over a full year. It felt like the meaning of everything around me got stripped away - like I was living in a dream where nothing was real. I lost my grip on reality and was passively suicidal for the first time in my life (have had lifelong depression as well). It’s as if the gravity of my mortality in the face of an infinite universe sank in for the first time. If you’ve ever read “Nausea” by Sartre that pretty much sums up exactly how I experienced life for that year. This experience felt like such a deep dark hole that I would never get out of - that this experience of this version of reality was my “unspiritual” awakening to how the world really worked. I have been clawing my way out of this for the past 5 years now and is where I still spiritually reside - in this cold, dead, empty feeling world.
Fast forward to my senior year of college, I picked up the catechism again for one reason or another and was intrigued. I read some more of the gospel, learned more about Christianity, and started to realize that faith was actually a logical conclusion one could come to. I found the “Word on Fire” podcast and got absolutely hooked. I went down the “traditional catholic” rabbit hole for quite some time and am extremely shameful for how easily my beliefs were altered toward such vile teachings. I would read the Catholicism subreddits daily if that gives you any indication of how my beliefs were twisted. Thankfully I got out of this line of thinking because I just could not turn my back on my queer friends and partner. This was a hard line I just couldn’t cross long term. I want to make it clear that I have absolutely nothing against Catholics and Christianity - I understand that extreme bigotry, homophobia, and transphobia aren’t hallmarks of these religions and I still have the utmost respect and admiration for so many Christians. Anyways, I remember at one point walking around my neighborhood praying to feel anything to the point I stopped in my tracks in the middle of the road staring up at the sky begging for faith. Nothing ever came.
Since then, and over the course of the past 3 years I’ve bounced around between atheism, paganism, and Christianity. I still have a pull towards theism but it just feels like my baseline philosophy is atheism. I really don’t know where to go from here but I so badly want to believe that there’s more to life without feeling like I’m lying to myself to make my hardships feel easier. I want to have honest and genuine faith but I don’t know how to get there. I’ve read “Mere Christianity”, listened to podcasts, read the gospels, followed different subreddits, prayed from the BCP, prayed the rosary, but nothing has ever stuck. Like I said, I feel drawn into belief and I don’t know what to make of that - whether it’s just my wishful thinking, or something more. How can I get out of this hole and grow my faith in something I don’t even believe in right now? How can I move forward?
Thank you all so much for taking the time to read my story and for any advice you could give me.
TL;DR
Would appreciate a quick read through of my story but the short version is: In the wake of a devastating existential crisis I’ve bounced around between different faiths and atheism for years and I have no idea what to do. How can I grow in faith from a baseline like this?

TL:DR My parents have been forcing me to go to a catholic church for a while and they decided to start telling everyone that the LGBT people are bad and we need to pray and help them, and I don't want to be there anymore because I was taught by my parents to respect everyone for who they are.
​
Before we start I should give some background, I am a furry but not part of the lgbt community. I do however, fully support them as I was taught to. So getting on with the story, I went to mass around 10AM as usual for sunday. I barely stay awake for the first half, then I hear something along the lines of "Those lgbt people go against everything we stand for, they mock Jesus's death..." This is when I started to feel scared, my mom has threatened me and my sibling with being kicked out of the house for several reasons, and my dad has some anger issues.
They started going to the church before bringing me in, and that church seems to be trying to convince guests that the premise of lgbt is "evil". With me being a furry as a hobby, and fully supporting lgbt, I am scared that I may get kicked out of my home and disowned. I don't know what to do about it, any suggestions?

Credit for the original story goes to u/spacepaladin15.
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Memory transcript subject: Trish, Venlil civilian
Date [Standardized Human Time]: February 30th, 2177
Location: Lower sprawl of City 23, Venlil Prime
The blankets haphazardly twisted around Trish felt like steel chains. The Terran grandfather clock on the wall dutifully marked each second of her prison sentence. Her eyes hurt from exhaustion, and it was all she could do to keep herself from lashing her tail hard enough to fracture it in frustration.
Several long, pointless hours had come and gone as she sat, self-immobilized with blankets in an attempt to sleep. But sleep did not come. There was a sick feeling of apprehension balled up in her stomach, a cold weight in her soul which silently sentenced her to sleeplessness.
Her instinct, that feeling of a frigid vice around her waist, could usually be counted on as a guiding star that commanded her to act decisively. Right now, it was commanding her to stay awake and alert even as the hours dragged by. Out of respect for its “wishes”, she had abstained from taking any sleep-inducing medication, but her meager patience was quickly waning. Simply sitting there in silence was nothing short of torturous.
The thought of how exactly they’d feed the Arxur still hung over her head like a guillotine, the evening’s furious debate having brought them little closer to a solution. Acquiring any organ-cloning tech would be a nightmare, not to mention the steep cost of life incurred from stealing rare medical equipment. There wasn’t exactly an abundance of wildlife for it to hunt. Maybe some DIY-biomedical tampering could expand its diet, but accidentally condemning it to an agonizing death was far more likely.
Perhaps their fixer had some advice to share. There were only a couple ways she could’ve gotten her hands on a fertilized Arxur egg, and her constant insistence on keeping hidden in every way pointed towards one obvious possibility. How exactly an Arxur had survived the fall of Wriss and stayed clear of the Federation’s all-seeing eye for so long, Trish couldn’t even begin to guess. But if it was possible for her, it would be possible for them, and she might have useful advice for keeping the hatchling fed that she garnered from personal experience.
That said, she couldn’t be blunt in her questioning. If their encryption was broken, they were most likely dead either way, but better to be cautious anyway. Most likely, this abundance of caution was how someone actively fleeing the Federation had to operate in all aspects of life.
Something in Trish’s chest protested. To hell with caution. She wanted to see their reptilian sponsor face-to-face, even digitally. Look her in the eye. If she was right, at least; if this was truly her own offspring she was entrusting them with. It would be hell to set up, and a completely pointless risk for both of them, but some things couldn’t be justified with—
A sudden crack of thunder tore through her thoughts, a rough noise which echoed from the bar above. She further entombed herself in blankets for comfort, letting the warm weight…
Not thunder. A gunshot. Someone had fired a gun upstairs.
Trish was out of bed and shaking someone else awake before her thoughts could catch up and form a plan of action. With her mind still reeling, instinct had taken hold, dragging her by the pit of her stomach to act. It issued clear, firm commands which she followed unthinkingly while her own conscious mind couldn’t keep pace.
Act quickly. Get everyone awake, and get them to the fire escape at the end of the hallway. It didn’t much matter if their assailants found the entrance to the Den or not; flames would start pouring down the stairs any second. They wouldn’t have time to gather belongings. Except her pad; if they found her pad, there’d be no escaping them even if they got away. Grab it. The fire would cleanse the rest of their tracks well enough to not be worth spending extra time.
Tressa was already up and alert, pistol drawn and taking aim at the door while crouched behind a couch in the living room as cover. Besides him sat the backpack, with the egg and incubator still inside. James stumbled out of his bedroom, being dragged out by a jet-black Venlil two thirds his size with such force that Trish was slightly worried she might hurt something in his arm.
When he saw the bag, he tore himself from her grasp and ran to the living room. After slinging the backpack over his shoulder, he rushed back to the hallway with Tressa in tow. Sasha was slipping her flame jacket over loose sleeping clothing, still blinking sleep out of her eyes. She didn’t see Burai anywhere; apparently, he’d slept straight through the noise. Trish was halfway to his room when she remembered that he hadn’t gone to sleep at all. He was upstairs, cleaning the bar.
​
He was upstairs, where the gunshot had echoed from.
Trish’s mind screamed in protest, but her body kept moving down the hall toward the fire escape. They were out of time. They needed to run. She tore open the fire escape hatch with force, praying that their assailants didn’t have the neighboring alley locked down too. The ladder swung down, missing her snout by a hair. Her limbs moved with a frantic, manic power, dragging her to the surface and forcing her down the street. Somewhere in the back of her head, she felt a pang of thankfulness that she didn’t feel fire on her back as she ran.
—
They stopped running by the time Trish was out of breath. She’d never been too fit even for a Venlil, and her endurance was meaningless compared to their human companions. However, in the dense decaying maze of the sprawl, even a few city blocks was plenty to lose anyone chasing. They gathered in the relative privacy of a burned supermarket, breathing heavily through cloth masks to block out the ash that poured from the walls in unrestored buildings.
Nobody spoke a word. There was nothing to say.
In better times, Trish might’ve broken down into tears, but right now adrenaline forced her into a sharp focus. They were still being hunted. Their options were slim, and growing slimmer every second of inaction.
“Tressa, did you bring your pistol?”
The words came out as choked and barely audible beneath the suffocating cloth that protected her lungs, but it was enough to break the silence. The rest of them jolted out of their stupor, minds visibly refocusing to tackle the problem at hand.
“...Yeah, but it won’t be enough to fight them off. I heard multiple sets of boots up there. If these are exterminators, it’s probably a squad of five. I can’t take that many with just a handgun.”
“It doesn’t matter either way. Kill them, and they’ll just send more. We need to run.”
“And run where, exactly?” James coughed a few times and readjusted his mask before continuing. “There’s nowhere the Federation doesn’t have eyes. Nowhere on Venlil Prime, at least, and we’d have better luck standing our ground than trying to board a ship offworld.”
“...a ship?”
“Yeah, walking into a spaceport is just asking to be— Trish?”
“...there’s a ship… there’s a wrecked UN ship on the dark side of Venlil Prime. It’s not too far from here, but far enough that nobody would ever bother checking out there. I’ve been inside it a couple times. There’s still working lights.”
Tressa muttered to himself, considering their prospects. “Working lights… imagine I could get heat working too. It probably has enough water onboard to last until we can dig a well. I… I could maybe even clone meat if they had Zurulian medical tech. You think we’d be safe there?”
“I don’t think there’s anywhere else to go.”
“And you never thought to tell us about this before now?”
“It never came up.”
James paced nervously, kicking up plumes of dust. It hung in the air for a brief moment, swirling dramatically in the cold light of a fluorescent lamp, before resettling as he leaned against the wall. “So you want to drag us to the dark side of Venlil Prime… Jesus, Trish. I thought there was a reason nobody bothered settling out there. Or at least a reason they didn’t scavenge those wrecks. Hell, even people like us avoid it.”
“There are settlements on the edge, and scavengers comb the darkness up to about a paw’s travel out. But no light means no farming, scarce power, and unyielding cold. Unless you just happened to find an abandoned ship with backup power still burning, it’s a death sentence. The Federation won’t look for us there.”
“...and you ’just happened’ to find one, huh?”
“A friend of mine— no, I’ll tell you about it later. We need to get moving now.”
Sasha sat up, brushing a layer of grime off her jacket. “We need to go back for Beast. No way we can make the journey out without her. Unless you think you can hotwire something, Tressa..?”
“Not a chance. Then again, our chances of retaking Beast seem pretty slim too. Do you have a plan for doing this, or is your ‘plan’ to throw me at them and hope I have more bullets than they have flamer fuel?”
“No. We’ll all go together, and try not to pick a fight we can’t win. Slip in, grab Beast, get out.”
“That’s not a plan, and you know it. That’s wishful thinking. If your best plan is ‘walk in and hope they don’t see us’, then we’re walking to our deaths.”
“If you have a better idea, let’s hear it. Until then, walk faster. The longer we’re gone, the more likely they’ll burn our escape to slag before we return.”
Tressa grumbled, but failed to make any coherent objection as he rose to his feet. He checked his pistol over, making sure ash hadn’t wormed its way into anything vital before slipping it back under his coat as the group stepped out into the street.
It was a common work claw, so the more ruined areas of the sprawl were near-empty. The only sign that people lived here in any capacity were the streetlights and a distant hum of life from more central streets and walkways. Not that their little entourage would draw much attention anyway; out here, ragtag herds of misfits were about as common as the burned-out buildings that permeated the land.
Their little ragtag herd of misfits wouldn’t hardly be missed if they went up in flames. Not by anyone important, that is; a few regulars at the Tipped Quill might be disappointed and some exterminator officer’s spreadsheet would need updating. The world would continue on without them. The world was going to continue on without them. Tressa was right; they were marching to their deaths.
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