I need advice. I have nada zilch friends. I also am 39 and have never had a boyfriend. In the words of Taylor Swift “it’s me. Hi. I’m the problem, it’s me”. I get it. But no therapist can seem to help me find out WHY. I’m more in search of strong bond friends than a relationship at this point. Some history:
I always struggled with friendships as a kid but managed to make a few in high school that didn’t last - one was a bully I cut ties with a long time ago and another was someone that I don’t think ever really like me and ultimately cut ties with me some time ago.
In college I made some GREAT friends. After college they all went towards marriage, kids, etc and most moved far from me. I started to feel I couldn’t relate to them (almost like I was a child and they were adults) so I let those relationships fall even though in the beginning they tried to rekindle from time to time. Haven’t spoken to any of them in over 10 years and none of them live near me now anyways.
In my career I never made work friends. I was always “uncool” to colleagues as I was an intense workaholic and didn’t have much in common with them. As I’ve gotten older this has become way worse as despite learning how to be a more “likeable” colleague, my age group of coworkers are married with kids and have totally different lives!
In just general life I’ve spent the last decade trying everything - Meetups, social sports leagues, etc. I always meet people, they seem to really like me, we hang out often and then bam - they just fade away. Never a fight or a contentious conversation or anything. I’m clearly doing SOMETHING behaviorally wrong but I have no idea WHAT.
I’m at my wits end. Just had this experience again. I joined a soccer league, we’ve been meeting weekly for the games and for a happy hour on a different day and then suddenly I realized I was removed from the group text chain. No explanation or hint as to why. Just silence.
My theories are:

1. I may miss cues that I’m not invited to things and think I am and show up too much to stuff (like the happy hour, I was invited once to join an existing friend group and they said to come whenever as it’s weekly - so I come weekly, but maybe that is too much?). I also accidentally overstay my welcome sometimes (like be last one of group to leave for the night)
   
2. I was told once years ago that I can unintentionally come off as flirty sometimes with guys as I ask them questions and treat anyone with total interest when we talk and this might piss off their girlfriends. With this latest group I noticed I was in an intense (like good) conversation with one such BF and the GF immediately came over and started hanging on him and it made me go “oh”.
   
3. I might have too high expectations of how a friendship should happen. For instance, I asked one girl from the soccer league to a lunch to hang out, she agreed and then never responded when I asked her when she wanted the next game day. I’ve just accepted that as a hint and never brought it up again. This was only about a week into knowing her so maybe I should be more chill on invites so soon.
   
4. Also - every time I start to bond with a new friend they get super clearly suspicious and weird of the fact that I obviously have no friends or partner. They’ll ask me questions around how long I’ve lived in town and make a face when I mention it’s been over 8 years…they seem really confused that I have no stories to share of past relationships, etc. I don’t tell people “I don’t have friends” and I talk often of the things I do with family, but it’s obvious after one or two Meetup’s that’s it’s just me.
   
5. I’m very sociable and generally good at conversation but I can sometimes overdue a joke or perhaps get to personal too quick (not in info dump but in making jokes that won’t land without established relationships). For instance I remember making a joke about dentists overcharging patients as a scam once to a woman that was a dental assistant.
   
6. I think my facial expressions and tone must be way off from intended. Not sure on this. I will often make very sarcastic jokes and people have no idea or the opposite- be very sincere and get told I sounded tired or whatever (not intended). Or if someone makes a joke at my expense I’ll make a “oh that was silly haha face” that I’ve since realized might come off more as “I’m offended” face. I can’t see myself so don’t fully know.
   

So now you’ve read my novel if you got this far. Any ideas?

I'm not a frequent Facebook user, but recently decided to recreate my account to keep up with some pages I used to follow. I didn't add any friends, but I would occasionally visit public profiles when I suddenly remember them for some weird reason.
A few weeks ago, I received a group suggestion for a group that makes fun of funny-sounding names (think Madiszen, Khymberli, Tiphineigh etc.). Considering I've come across some amusing names in real life, I thought it might be a fun group to join. So, I requested to join.
I didn't contribute at first, but the longer I stayed in the group, the more tempted I became to share one of the weirdest wildest name I've ever encountered. Clue: it sounds like ratatouille.
I took a screenshot of the name from a former acquaintance's public Facebook picture... It was featuring her baby with the hilariously sounding name (and before you call me out on this, no, the name is not cultural.. they made it up).
I blurred the child's face, added a caption, and didn't think much of it since no personal information was included and some posts there don't get too much of a reaction anyway.
After a few days of not checking my Facebook, I was bombarded with over 1K notifications of reactions and comments. And as if that wasn't shocking enough, the mother of the child had been let into the group and was responding to every single comment on my post, and her responses were far from pleasant. She was cussing everyone out calling them fcking fcks and what not.
Thankfully, I posted anonymously lol so I'm still in the clear, but I find it incredibly surprising that out of all the posts I've seen in the group, even those featuring influencers' names, none of them received reactions from the individuals involved.
Yet here I am, a first-time poster and a complete nobody causing such a scene... I want to emphasize that I meant no harm and posted in jest, and had no idea it would escalate to this level.
TLDR: I posted in a Facebook group that shares funny names and caused a parent to cuss everyone out

Had a female friend send me a screenshot today showing that I popped up on the arewedatingthesameguy FB page. The caption was just "Any tea?"
Instantly I'm annoyed. I'm currently talking to nobody. My apps have been dry. I've had one real date this year that was trash. Ghosted and flaked on a number of times and I'm just not putting in the energy because I have other priorities.
Hours later I get screenshots of comments.. One girl comments that she worked at my gym and I was always nice and pleasant, cool. Another, was a girl had grabbed a drink with and chatted with, she said I was nice but no vibe, fine. And another saying we matched multiple times and I always ghosted when she tried to make plans, false, I wasn't interested in her and we never had set plans so I let it fizzle out. She was not my type.
I'm sure I'm not the only guy this is happening to, but holy crap. Anybody can make any claim about you, and hinder or affect your interaction trying to get to know anybody. I get the utility to protect and keep women safe from guys. But just to spill the tea... I'm done with apps if it's going to come to this. People can't put in the real effort to get to know you and would rather get validation on details about who somebody is. I'm done with apps after this scenario
Edit: to add, I'M NOT TALKING TO ANYONE... so this is purely somebody trying to shop for gossip about me in an unwarranted manner. This has zero to do with a woman's safety and concern. If these groups are just being used to spill the tea. Realistically this is probably some girl I matched with in the past who just didn't take that much interest in me. People trying to date shouldn't be turned into a gossip channel.

It was pretty good!
Newly opened about 2 weeks ago, Koko by Bakan Restaurant group in Coconut Grove sports good mexican food for the weary shopper or anyone looking for something fun, jovial whimsical and light. A good date place, a good lunch place. I would use all these to describe this restaurant with margaritas, fundidos, tacos and burritos. But when it comes down to a serious dish for a family, the Asado A La Lena Para Taquear Estilo El Mercado De Oaxaca with meat selection.
https://endlessvolo.com/koko.html

Hi Leon and Sasha,
I miss you guys so much. I hope that you are safe in Moscow. I think of you often. I hope that you and your mom (grandparents and Irina/Phil) are okay.
I hope you mom reads this to you. I hope that it helps you go to sleep. I will write more and post it for you to read.
Astral or Star Jelly is a real event/substance that has been found in all areas of the earth (please Wikipedia it). My friend performed a DNA analysis on a sample of Star Jelly, and the results were amazing. His group concluded that the sample mostly had mitochondrial-like DNA, but it was very different from anything reported (much longer and having possible different base pairs).
Astral/Star Jelly is often found after meteorite showers or other astral events. I found some when I was young (heavy Northern Lights and Meteor Shower event). I crafted the first chapter of a potential novel. Please give feedback. I am switching to google docs, so soon I will have links to my works.
Yes, Charlotte edited the chapter. She kept saying to keep it simple and direct. We hope to see you in Turkey this summer.
​
Chapter 1
The Byproduct of Gods
with revisions by your favorite daughter
📷
Her owners had held her for so many lifetimes that the stream, which flowed, near her family’s hut was gone. The trees that provided fuel, housing, and food were missing, replaced by a prairie. After all the years of the concept of returning home keeping her going, she did not feel safe. There were no people near her village, and it took her days to unearth signs of her youth. She discovered the land that she had first walked on only because the mountain and stones did not move. As she cleaned the Blue Volga granite idol of her parents’ deity, she felt nothing. The blue-green face of the god looked sad to her. He also was no longer safe. His followers were dead and his power forgotten.
Her first owner was a traveler. They moved with each new moon. Her master felt safe but she failed to understand that her entourage plodded along a predictable path. After many decades, a tale of a demon woman who did not age traveled the same circuit. Finally, a village attacked the demon. Her second owner was the daughter of the woman who bought her. The daughter decided to build a fortress and to rule her fief. Her third owner was the daughter’s son who had grown tired of never gaining his birthright. His guilt and myopic greed caused him to sell her to an alchemist. From that point on, she was an item for trade or barter.
Her final master failed to return home. She remained in his caravan for a week, performing her duties. When she had eaten all the food, she felt justified using her knowledge to destroy her metal shackles. It took her five days to dissolve her bindings with her jellies.
She thought of the places that she had felt safe. Those havens were all underground. A magician made her live in the passages beneath Kyiv when he was being hunted. The tunnels funneled the 15 rivers of the city and protected inhabitants from invaders or punishing ruling forces. For twenty years, she had lived in the coquina catacombs of Odessa. A man who thought he was a seer was convinced that his power had attracted the attention of dragons and demons. No one could approach the lair unseen.
After a week of searching the now unfamiliar area, the woman began to carve her home from the soil of her childhood. She spent fifty years making her home safe. Only she would know the paths and twists of her underground world. Only she would know where the escape exits emerged into the surrounding world.
Eventually, her home attracted others. The woman could have chased them away, but she felt a need to observe people. When the fourth generations of villagers were aging to the grave, there was no hiding the fact that she had not died. The villagers erected a semi-circular wall around the entrance to the woman’s cave. The wall grew and the woman did not protest the separation.
Generations later, people whispered that the villagers maintained the defenses of their community to keep the woman away from the town’s children at night. In the tavern, each generation of gallant males would boast that they would be the one to remove the blight of the woman from the town. When she inevitably outlasted them, she would attend the funeral of the most vocal warrior from each age group.
Daily the woman would remove more soil from her dugout. The community would search her discarded diggings for possible minerals or stones. They did not share any discoveries with the woman. During times of blight or famine, the locals would collect her soil and remove it from the community.
People would peer around the wall to scan the woman’s home. As the village grew, a leader placed two chairs at endpoints of the semi-circle barrier. During full moons, periods of strife, festivals, and other social events, menacing men sat in the chairs. Infrequently, people tried to enter the woman’s home. Aside from the guards, it was the more distraught people of the village who visited her.. The most recent person to enter the woman’s home was a grieving widow. Her grief made her seek the woman to find answers about her loss. Three mornings later, the villagers found the widow in the public square with drapes of herbs, flowers, and crafts around her limbs. The people thought the widow was dead or mindless from torture. When the widow awoke, she went to her house and began the chores for the day. When pressed about the woman’s abode, the widow would state that the home was loved, clean, and well maintained.
On the spring day when the widow was about to remarry, she was again discovered in the square coated with ropes of herbs, flowers, and idols. The woman disappeared for a decade after the wedding, but the widow brought her newborns to the opening of the earthwork to declare their names into the sunken space.
The aging hamlet relaxed when the woman was away. There was a sense of freedom in the people. They did not fear the retribution of the woman for their actions, and parents could not correct their children with threats of giving them to the woman. At times, the leaders of the people would consider filling in the woman’s hovel, but shovels and spades would split if used to cover the opening of the woman’s home. One regretful man tried using a mule and cart to dump rocks into the fastness. The stones crushed the man after his own tram flipped over on him.
Although the townsfolk feared and despised the woman, she had free reign in the village. As an indicator that she was amongst the people, the woman would adorn her head with a dark purple scarf. No other members of the village would wear that color. They looked for it whenever the woman shopped at the market. The woman paid with old and foreign coins, but the merchants welcomed the precious metals they were composed of. During the dark days of winter, the people collected the woman’s tender and deposited it into a lead box. The villagers had a belief that the more people touched the woman’s currency, the longer the winter would be.
After the community fortified against the woman, religious leaders organized efforts to erect carved idols and large wagon-wheel hexes aimed at her home. Each generation attempted to counter the woman with the current symbols of spiritual protection. The largest structure in the village was now a church, and the threshold of the church was oriented to face the woman’s home.
The woman was home when Alyona began her schooling in the church. She had learned the fundamentals of math, reading, and writing. She knew that her coursework would end soon. The village expected girls to be useful to a limit. Her mother walked her only surviving child to school along a path that would prevent their shadow from falling close to the woman’s realm. The villagers performed this ritual after someone claimed that the woman had controlled their behavior by stealing their shadow.
Alyona was daydreaming during school of a life away from the village when the woman touched her. Alyona had spent the morning in the woods collecting mushrooms and other edibles. Her findings made for great, free additions to their usually simple meals. . On days that Alyona returned with a bounty, they shared the extras with neighbors. It was a wager that these people would remember the gift and provide Alyona’s home with food during lean days.
The person gripping Alyona twirled her body so that she faced the opposite direction. Alyona assumed the culprit was another student or a young assistant at the church. It could have been a boy attempting to bully her to get her attention. She lowered her right hand, preparing to use the back to slap the violator. Alyona’s willingness to confront her accoster left when she saw the face of the woman under her purple scarf. Alyona knew she should look away from the woman, but her eyes locked with the woman’s gaze. All the stories the Alyona heard about the town ghoul stated that the woman was so old that her skeleton was all that was left of her body. The woman’s youthful face surprised Alyona. There were no lines or furrows on the woman’s forehead. If anything, Alyona would have stated that the woman’s face glowed.
I can smell it on your hands. The woman placed Alyona’s fingers under her nose. The force of the drawn air startled Alyona. She thought that the woman had pulled the top layer of skin off her index finger. Alyona’s toes curled when the woman sampled her hand. Across a church aisle, one of the priests was herding schoolchildren. He spotted the two of them. His face darkened at the sight of their contact.
WHAT IS ON YOUR HANDS, ALYONA? The priest shouted over the children.
Nothing, Sir. The woman’s tongue darted over the tip of Alyona’s index finger. I was harvesting in the woods before class.
You touched more than growths and nuts this morning, Singleton Child of the Crying Matron. The woman chewed on her thumbnail.
Alyona did not like her mother being referred to in that way, but the eyes of the woman immobilized her. How could she react forcefully to a person who was savoring her hand?
She is mine today, priest. The woman held out her other hand to the shepherd of the church. I will pay her mother for occupying her child for the day, and she will be returned unsoiled and whole.
The priest brought a gurgle of protest up but was shut down quickly.
My tunnels are beneath your place of worship and the bedchambers of Mistress Blake, The women stomped on the ground, and I know all of what has occurred within your walls.
Alyona realized that she was screaming when her throat began to sear. She expected that the woman’s hole would be dark, but the home glowed. There were mirrors and reflective glasses positioned throughout the house to harness sun rays from many holes and entrances in the surface of the residence. Therefore, Alyona was able to see herself yelling on fifty surfaces.
Hush child. The woman touched her mouth. Do not be afraid of the manner in which I inspected you. It is a show for the people. I only want to talk about your morning, and then I will let you go with a full belly and money to buy many toys.
Alyona felt her utterances dwindle down to a wheeze that slipped out her lips.
You have the scent on your fingers, girl. The woman was now examining Alyona’s left hand. It is on both hands, so you must have found a huge source.
A source? Alyona wanted to look at her hands but she maintained her attention on the woman.
Sit. The woman pointed to a well-padded chair. Sit and I will return with small pies and honey.
Alyona hovered over the seat. She wanted to be strong and to stand, but then she smelt the pies. The chair was very soft. There were no pins, claws, or spines in the cushion like she feared.
Alyona. The voice of the woman wove through the tunnels of the underground network. Alyona felt her name circle around her. She had never been afraid of her name before. Alyona Pistan…daughter of Fiva and the missing soldier.
Alyona closed her fist and felt the pain of her nails digging into her palms.
Fiva lives off the salary that the Duke must pay for your father’s military service. Your mother knows that the Duke no longer wants to pay this burden.
Alyona wanted to speak but her throat stung from screaming.
Your father’s name is Bay. He earned this title because he would not stop speaking when he was a baby. Like a horse that always had an opinion, your father would squawk at everyone before he knew words. The voice was now coming directly towards Alyona. My first gift to you and Fiva is the information that your father lives. There was a pause in the woman’s words. An enemy does not enslave him; he is lost with the simpleton that led him away. One day a map will lead him home, child.
The woman emerged from a cutout with a basket laden with pies, a pot of honey, wooden utensils, and slices of ham. In her other hand, she held a bucket of colored water.
We will eat together. The woman placed the basket on Alyona’s lap and retrieved two cups. After you accept the first pie, I will tell you an important secret of mine.
I do not think I want to know any of your secrets Starly-Gradda.
The woman laughed and placed the small wooden spoon into the pie directly in front of Alyona.
Elder-grandmother, you call me. The woman dunked a cup into the water and held it in her left hand. I think that term is the nicest thing a child has called me in a lifetime.
Alyona brought the food to her lips. She smelt the mint, berries, and kasha. Gently she laid the pie onto her tongue. She did not chew; she only let it rest in her mouth. She expected that the food would burn or numb her. The taste was full and made her wish to spit the substance out because it was too good to be real.
Ah, she eats. The woman clapped her hands. I was your age when I saw my first god being born.
Alyona choked on the pie.
I was sitting by a riverbank when the god entered our place. The woman drank from her cup. It was a bright yellow fish with shiny scales. I saw it come from nothing to being here.
The woman snapped her fingers and Alyona swallowed her food.
No one prayed for its existence. No one was singing for it to bring salvation. The woman made circles with her hands in front of Alyona. As far as I know, simple fish do not worship gods, but a god came for the fish of that river.
The woman tapped Alyona’s hand to take another bite of pie.
It floated there. The woman held up her hands. Here I am…a young maiden…thinking a god or demon turned itself into this creature to seduce or corrupt me. Again, a chuckle came from the woman. No other god cared about this special fish. I think it was floating only because it did not realize that a fish should swim in water.
Alyona grabbed a slice of ham. It had been two months since she had meat that was not paste.
Eventually, the golden fish fell into the water and swam away. The woman pulled back her hood and revealed her full face to Alyona. I tried to follow it, but it swam away from shore, and I lost sight of it.
Alyona cleared her throat and licked her lips.
Girl, if you want a drink, just take it. The woman filled Alyona’s cup and handed it to her. The ham is not that salty, but I think your sore throat would improve if you drank.
Alyona sipped the water. It did not taste bitter. It did not smell foul. In fact, the water’s taste was a mixture of apples, roses, and plums.
I told my mother, and she whispered to my father that they needed to trade me into marriage now, before I became soft in the head. I did not want to marry at my age, so I told her that I would go find proof of my shiny golden fish. The woman used a toothpick to dollop out a portion of honey. There was nothing in the water when I returned. I waded in the cool stream. I put my head under the surface and looked at the rocks for the golden shimmer. I found nothing.
Alyona ate the ham.
I was weeping on the spot that I saw the god be born. My heart was full of dread. I started to believe that the shiny golden god was not real. I was so sad that I was quickly accepting that I would be married to an old man so that he would tolerate my problems. The woman tapped her top lip. I felt that my mother had no love for me. I thought that if the golden fish were my mother, it would love me just because that is what should be.
Alyona selected another pie. This pie contained spices and mashed nuts.
Your mother loves you. I listen to all the words spoken in this village. If a parent lacks love for their child, I correct them or have them leave. The woman did not form a fist. She turned her hand into a claw, the conviction in her words hanging in the air until she relaxed it. As all hope was gone, I put my hand down in the grass, and felt the substance.
The woman held her hand flat towards Alyona.
It was clear. It was squishy like the rendered bones of stock animals. It had a pleasant smell, but I was scared to taste it. The woman cupped her hands. I gathered this glob. I used the front of my dress to carry the material. When I believed that the last speck was contained in my clothing, I ran to my parents.
Alyona had felt something similar in the forest that morning.
My mother accused me of only finding the discarded waste of an animal. She threatened to smear it over my face. The woman moved the honey pot closer to Alyona. My father took me to the village shaman, and he looked at the material. They scraped the material off my clothes, but not around my breasts. The shaman thought it was bone waste from an owl, the eggs of a species of frog, a shell-less egg from a dying bird, a mushroom that was usually underground, or the spit of an evil spirit.
Alyona’s eyes widened.
Of course, something as amazing as what we found would be considered evil. The woman waved her hand. I have discovered many bundles and I have never seen the substance created by an evil thing.
No? Alonya asked, breaking her food-induced silence.
No, child. The woman touched the tip of Alyona’s nose. It is not to say that evil people and things are not interested in the substance, but the creation of it does not come from evil.
Alyona resumed consuming the luxurious treats.
The morning after I saw the god being born, people started to fall sick. The woman sighed. My mother blamed the god substance. It was hard for the village not to turn on me after my mother told them it was my fault. The woman’s shoulders lowered. I had not slept that night, and I did not clean after my discovery. They put me in a crate that only had three holes. My father fed me and still cared for me.
Alyona did not know how to react but to nod at the woman.
When my elder brother was close to death from the illness, my mother brought him to my crate. She told me that I would have to watch my brother die because I was an evil liar who unleashed a demon on the community. I could see him wither in pain from the openings in my prison. The woman moved a third pie in front of Alyona. The night my mother told me that my brother would die, my father talked to me. It was an act of rebellion against my mother, but he asked me if I knew what had happened. I cried to him about how this was not something I did. I pleaded with my dad that I would never make my brother suffer, and that the day watching him had crushed my will to live.
The woman tore a slice of ham into pieces and placed pieces of the meat on the floor of her keep.
My father and I wept. He told me that I was likely to die because of the sickness. The woman tapped the tray. Not that I was sick… or was likely to get sick, but because it would seem as justice to the people. I knew his words were true, but I could not think of anything else to say.
The third pie was berry and egg meringue. Alyona did not know that pies like this one existed.
I entered the crate in the dress I wore when I saw the god be born. The truth is that I only had that dress and a wedding dress. My mother kept the dress I would’ve worn to my wedding in a box near her bed. A cat approached the pieces of ham. My grandfather had given me the wedding dress when he died, but she took it from me. My father used what he received from his father to buy me the only special clothes I would have in my life. My father loved me, Alyona, just like yours.
The cat touched Alyona’s leg. It startled her, and she confirmed that the cat was not black.
We talked about the jelly I had found. My father told me that he had tried to burn it, thinking it was an odd piece of animal fat. The substance did not burn. My father then tried to crush it out of existence, but the material was soft, but not easily destroyed. The woman touched the center of her chest. My father’s words made me remember that there was still some of the jelly on my dress. I touched where they did not scrape, and there was a patch of the substance. I pinched the substance and it coated my fingers. It felt warm, but not hot.
Alyona was glad that the cat had returned to the ham.
My father grew angry. He was arguing with the air that if he were a real man, he would protect his daughter and revive his son. He was a good father. The woman showed Alyona a closed smile. He was crying because he knew he could do nothing. I was sore and battered from being in the crate. I felt so greasy and disgusting. I thought I was no longer the same girl that wandered in the meadows.
The woman offered to refill Alyona’s water cup.
For some reason, I brought the fingers I had used to touch the smear of the jelly that was on my dress to my mouth. The taste was tangy, but not foul. It was better than the food that my father had inserted into the holes in my crate. I sucked on it. With both hands, the woman rattled the basket. I felt so much better. It was amazing. I could not see it, but I felt my dry, cracked lips heal. My mind became clear. I knew what I had to do.
Alyona stopped eating to listen to the woman.
I asked my father to place my brother’s mouth in front of the biggest hole of my crate. He thought I was mad. He accused me of confessing that I pledged my soul to demons, but I told him that I felt different after praying to our god. The woman looked directly at Alyona. I rubbed my fingers on the same spot of my dress, and I placed them into my brother’s mouth. He was so weak that he did not respond to this action. I moved my fingers along his gums, his teeth, I even touched his tongue.
Alyona spoke to the woman. Was he healed right away?
The woman chuckled.
I like you Alyona, but you have the impatience of a child. The woman touched Alyona’s chin. It was not a sudden reversal, but he did not die. People died that night, but my brother lived. More importantly, he was the only person to get even slightly better. He was not running in the fields, talking to everyone better, but he was no longer crying in pain. His eyes were no longer looking like they would burst. Moreover, my father stopped crying for us.
I am glad. Alyona looked at the half-eaten pie. She wanted more of it, but she thought it would be rude to return to eating.
It was another day, another four deaths, before my father told the shaman that he thought I could heal the sick. They pulled me from the crate and inspected me. The women called for me to be stoned. The men wanted me burned. The shaman asked how my brother was alive, and how I was still in good health. The woman tapped her right temple. I knew I had to lie. I knew that I could not tell the truth. I had to convince these scared people that I was not dangerous.
The woman shuffled the half pie back to Alyona.
I fell in front of the shaman and shouted, ‘The Green Man came to me.’ I do not think you know the Green Man, child, but he was the god of the people before Christ came to the land. The woman pointed to a drawing of a large tree man. It matters not what god I said talked to me. I yelled that I knew that I did something wicked, but our god had forgiven me, and I was now able to cure the sickness that was killing the village.
Alyona returned to eating the pie.
They whipped me and bound me. I feared that they would burn my dress, so I yelled that the Green Man said that if I were to heal the village, I would need to be as I was when he forgave and blessed me. The woman opened her hands so that Alyona could see her palms. The oldest people would pray in this manner. They tied my legs together and only allowed my right arm to be free. However, that was all I needed to start to heal the people of my life.
Alyona finished her meal.
I would say our prayers; tell the people who were watching that the Green Man wanted everyone to close their eyes so that his healing ray could hit the person. The woman pulled her head backwards with a laugh. During this time, I would pull some of the jelly off my dress and stick the substance in the person’s mouth.
The woman laughed deeply.
What? Alyona asked.
I did not know that so many of my fellow villagers were missing teeth. Children of the people that always had food, had damaged and missing teeth. I was trapped and bored, so my mind began to guess how many disgusting teeth injuries each person would have.
Alyona shivered.
I thought the teeth were bad, but then it got worse. The woman looked upwards. It was on the third day of my healing that it happened for the first time. It was night, and the shaman had decided to blind me with a rag during the healing. Someone’s parents said that they did not want me to steal the soul of their child while I healed them. I placed my finger into a very small mouth, and everything was different. I did not feel a tingle from treating a person with the substance. I sang our songs to Green Man and rubbed jelly over my right fingers. I had planned to give the infant as much of the stuff as I could. The woman covered her eyes. The tiny body jumped, but there was still no response.
Why? Alyona wanted to know.
The baby was dead. I did not know if the god-gift could bring life back to a person. I was scared that if I did not return this child alive to their parents, I would be killed. The woman bobbed her head to the ceiling of her cave home. I kept doing it for a long time. I replenished the coating of my fingers four times, but still there was no living response. I finally shouted into the air. I faked arguing with the Green Man. I begged him to give me the infant. I spoke words that no one had ever heard in an odd voice that I thought would sound like the Green Man. This battle went on for minutes until I asked if whoever brought this child to me would allow the Green Man to have the special child live with him. I am not sure if the parents knew that their baby had died. I am uncertain if the parents wanted me to do something that I thought was evil, but a male voice eventually responded that it would be an honor if his young son joined the hunters of the Green Man.
Alyona gasped.
I spoke in my fake Green Man’s voice that the parents of his new hunter would be honored with a new child by the next spring. I informed the parents that they would find gifts for the next year. The woman rocked her head so that she was looking at the floor. They brought me five more dead people to heal, but no more deceased children. I did not make a fuss over the dead adults. I stated that the Green Man blamed the family for their death. If they truly believed in the power of the Green Man, they would have brought their loved ones to me before the sickness took them.
Alyona nodded her head.
On the fifth day, my fingers were raw. My nails felt like they were growing too fast. I guess I was healing and benefiting from the jelly, but I was placing the same fingers into people’s mouths most of the day. The worst problem was that my dress was getting dry. The woman traced her lips with her right index finger. I think my father was watching me. I think he saw me searching desperately on my dress for any of the substance. I believe this because he brought me fresh peas to eat that night. In the third pea he gave me, the pod was full of the jelly.
Did your village love you for healing everyone after those days? Alyona smiled at the woman.
No. The woman patted the girl’s forehead. They kept me in the crate. There was no joy for me after I found the jelly.
You saved them.
The woman breathed deeply.
I said that the Green Man had used me to save them. I was nothing but a tarnished girl who may have the power to harm or make people ill. The woman turned her head to the side.
Did your father and brother free you from the crate? Alyona looked hopefully at the woman.
No child, the town folk dispatched the shaman with me in that wooden prison out into the world to purge the town of my evil. He threatened to kill me daily. He attempted to abandon me at every opportunity. The woman cupped her hand in front of Alyona. When I sensed a second source of the god jelly, he was able to sell me to a person.
No! Alyona did not know if it was a spell, but she was extending her hand towards the woman.
The sum was so great that my parents and brother lived well. The woman clapped each hand separately. That was after the shaman took his share of my bounty and spent more money on food, drink, and women on the trip home.
That’s…..
That is life, my special girl. The woman grabbed her hand and they stood up. The woman led the pair through tunnels and caverns. Eventually, the woman pulled her through a blanket of vines that concealed an exit to her labyrinth.
Your forest, Alyona. The woman gestured to the glade Alyona crossed to enter the woods.
Alyona pulled her hand away from the woman and pulled her hair back.
I am not sure what you want me to find. Alyona looked up to the woman. She received a smile.
I have never told anyone this before, the woman stuck her tongue out to Alyona, when I first touched the jelly, I felt that there were ants under my skin. It was the power of the jelly moving through me. It was such an odd feeling that I thought it was a sign of madness.
Alyona lowered her head. I felt something like that. I thought it was worms latching onto me from the peat.
That is the place, little one. Take me there.
Alyona was about to step forward when the woman asked her another question.
What color was the substance you touched today?
It was not one color, ma’am. Alyona moved her hand down to her legs. She brushed unseen but felt passengers from her body. I grabbed it first because I thought it was rose root. My mother could turn the flower into medicine to sell or trade. Alyona knelt and touched the ground. Except that the flower was so low to the ground and it was not the red or yellow flower I normally pick. They were violet with orange centers.
They did not feel like flowers.
No. Alyona pulled her hand away from the ground. They stuck to me like honey.

Original prompt: [WP] It was decreed that a human would bear twins. One an Angel, the other a Devil. Each would be given to the opposite species to teach them about respect and love. It's been five years and the Fallen Angel who came up with the idea is eager to know how the twins are doing. (link)
Bethany Fray looked at the assembled figures around the table and sighed. It had been months since she'd seen any of them, including her own children, and she was glad this whole... experiment was finally coming to an end.
At one end of the table was Galia the Gilded, 14th angel of the circle of brass, and Bethany's sister in law. She was wearing her finest astral silk robes, and had brought her charge to the meeting, the now 18 year old Natalia Fray. Natalia was also dressed in fine astral silk, and seemed to wear it with pride in spite of the fact that the massive jagged spikes growing out of her shoulders didn't allow the robe to rest as easily as it should. She was also utterly oblivious to the room around her as she was busy tinkering with some kind of metal object instead of watching the boring adults talk about boring legal papers.
On the other side was Tharalax the Beheader, 9th demon of the pit of ire. He was garbed in black spiked armor, and had brought along his own protege, the 18 year old James Fray. James hadn't dressed up in armor, but was instead wearing a loincloth, iron bracers, and a metal chain wrapped around his torso, which looked quite strange on his lithe angelic frame. It did show of the few tattoos etched across his chest, but as the meeting was one of business it seemed rather inappropriate. His expression conveyed mostly frustration, but it seemed more like sulking than any sort of anger directed toward anyone present.
"So we're in agreement then? All the T's are dotted and the I's crossed?" Tharalax asked.
"Tharalax, it's cross the T's and dot the I's," Galia said.
"Same difference," Tharalax said.
"Yes, I believe that's it. Now we just have to wait for the... absentee to arrive," Bethany said.
The group waited in silence for a moment, as nothing happened.
"Well, that would've been a fine time for him to show up, but my brother has never been known for his punctuality," Galia said.
It was at that moment that the door burst open, and the fallen angel Yariel stumbled in, a wine bottle in his hand. His physical appearance was immaculate, but his posture and tardiness were much more representative of his actual personality.
"Hey everyone! I see we're all doing dandy!" he said. He swayed to the side, nearly falling over before catching himself and taking a drink from his bottle. "Well, let's get this party started, eh? Find out what our kids have been up to for the past few years!"
"Yariel, the agreement was that we check in every year. It's been fourteen, and this is the first meeting you actually showed up for," Bethany said.
"Fourteen years? Ah jeez, well you know how time flies when you're having fun!" Yariel said.
"Right... Well, I guess we should summarize for my ex-deadbeat," Bethany said.
"Whoa now, who are you calling a de- wait, did you say ex?" Yariel said.
"Yes. I assume you didn't check your mail? Here, I brought a copy of the divorce papers with me," Bethany said, sliding a folder full of papers across the table to the fallen angel.
"Hey, come on, Beth, baby, we could still make this work," he said.
"It's been almost a year since I began the proceedings and almost 17 months since we last saw each other," Bethany said.
"It's just a little hiccup, I've been busy with all that business in the underworld," Yariel said.
"Our relationship wasn't that good to begin with, Yariel! I haven't been truly happy in over a decade! I still can't believe you sent our babies off just to avoid having to raise them," Bethany said.
"Hey! This was an important diplomatic project!" Yariel said.
Galia cleared her throat to cut off the argument before it heated up any more.
"Bethany, you don't need to justify yourself, five of the six people in this room agree that you're in the right," she said. "Now, since my idiot brother has been appointed, despite any common wisdom or decency, as the arbiter between the planes, we do technically need to keep him in the loop."
"Really feeling the love, sis," Yariel said.
"Young Miss Natalia has undergone the finest schooling available in the heavens. The kind of schooling which her father shirked so regularly we could almost set a clock to it, but which she has taken to like a duck to water. In fact, just a month ago we received word that she has been accepted to one of the most prestigious trade schools in the astral plane," Galia said.
"Oh, well great! So things are going well then?" Yariel asked.
"...Yes, brother. Things are going... Well," Galia said, the disgust audible in her voice. "And since Bethany has just made it clear that you are incapable of opening your own mailbox, I will deliver this notification myself."
Galia pulled an envelope out of her robe, sliding it across the table toward him, right next to the folder containing the divorce papers.
"Uh..." Yariel said.
"Since I'm not even sure you remember how to read, I will explain posthaste," Galia said, her voice speeding up, to the point of rattling off like a machine gun as she got going. "You are, as we all know, banished from the heavens, and that has not changed, so given that young Natalia will be busy at school for the next few years, and possibly remaining in the heavens indefinitely, this is something of a formality. Still, I hereby present you with this restraining order, stating that outside of these mandated meetings you are not permitted within 500 feet of Natalia. I will not be having my hard work undone by some drunken layabout who thinks holy scripture is an acceptable replacement for toilet paper."
"What? You can't keep me from my own daughter! Mom and dad would never let a form like that get through," Yariel said.
"Would you like to check the approval stamp?" Galia asked. For once, she looked almost eager as Yariel eyed the envelope in front of him.
"Nevermind. Tharalax, blood bro, come on, you're not gonna stab me in the heart as well, are you?" Yariel asked.
"Bah, it's fortunate your son is tougher than you are or he'd probably be face down in a ditch right now. As it happens, the reason for his getup is that he took 17th place in a combat tournament just before this meeting," Tharalax said.
"That doesn't sound very impressive," Yariel said.
"There were 100 competitors, it's very impressive for someone with no natural physical advantages to speak of," Tharalax said.
"I would've won if I was allowed to use magic!" James said, cutting into the conversation. His voice was a bit more gravelly than the typical angel due to growing up surrounded by smoke and brimstone, but the melodious undertone of the heavens still carried through.
"I know, Jimmy, but magic's not allowed in tournaments. Besides, purging your opponents is just bad form," Tharalax said. "But back to the point, in just about everything else he's been practically running the show. Legal trickery, mysticism, showmanship... Hell, rumor has it that his ambition is so strong that even old Luke was getting nervous about him. Kid's got a few followers as well, and he hasn't even begun staking claims on territory yet!"
"They're not followers, Tharalax, they're friends," James said. "Some people have those, you know. People they enjoy hanging out with even if they don't expect material benefits from it."
"Ha! There you go with that fancy jargon, I can hear the old traitor quaking in his boots already," Tharalax said. "But in other news, my blood debt is paid, Yariel."
Yariel didn't react at all to the news, just cocking his head inquisitively.
"Of course, you never even bothered to learn the lingo of the underworld. I'll summarize: I don't work for you anymore," Tharalax said.
"Okay? Is that relevant to me in some way?" Yariel said.
"It means if I ever see your stinking carcass in my lair again, I'll have your hide for a coat," Tharalax said. "And if I find you poking around my stash again, I'll do the skinning myself."
"Whoa, bud, I thought we were cool!" Yariel said.
"Deference in the face of one's superior is just common wisdom in the pits of hell! You're the most obnoxious guest, the worst commander, and the most disgusting creature I've ever seen!" Tharalax said. "Your boy is a part of the clan now, and these ladies are welcome to visit if they like, but if I never see your sorry face again it'll be too soon!"
"Calm down, dude," James said. "We get it, dad's the worst."
"Yes, yes. Can't believe I lost a duel to that incompetent wretch," Tharalax said.
The room quieted down for a moment, as the tensions in the air grew more strained...
"Yes! Finally finished!" Natalia said, breaking the silence. She looked up for the first time since arriving, seeing everyone arrayed there. "Mom! James!"
The demon girl ran around the table and wrapped her muscular arms around her mother and brother.
"Easy there, sweetie, I still have to breathe," Bethany said.
"Sorry, I haven't seen you guys in forever!" Natalia said.
"No kidding! Happy Birthday, sis," James said, attempting to wriggle an arm free from her grip.
Natalia let the two of them go, giving James a chance to reach for the bag he'd stowed under the table. From inside, he removed a hatchet with a rough black handle and a serrated edge.
"I was hoping I'd be able to bring the trophy from the tournament as a gift, but I lost so I had to go with my backup plan," James said.
"Oh, don't be like that! I love it, the craftsmanship is always so interesting on demon weapons..." Natalia said. She ran her finger along the edge and touched the carefully carved out nodules on the handle. "Boy, they sure love spikes, don't they? Even when spikes would be counterproductive, they end up adding things that resemble them."
"I wonder why," James said, poking one of his sister's shoulder spikes.
"Oh, and here's your gift! I finished it just in time!" Natalia said, handing her brother the metal statuette she'd been working on during the meeting. The craftsmanship was perfect, though the image it depicted was... abstract. It most closely resembled a figure of a female torso, but only vaguely.
"Ah, thank you. Just to check, is this a magical item?" James asked.
"Oh! Yes, here," Natalia said, moving her brother's arm so the statuette was held in the light. Instead of a vague metal image, the light was reflected in such a way to create an image on the desk in front of it. The image itself was of the heavenly city of brass. "I know you mentioned you wanted to see it, so I figured if you couldn't fit a visit into your schedule you could at least have a look."
"Thank you so much, Natalia. Ah! And Xantha sent this for you as well," James said, pulling a bottle containing a glowing light out of his bag. "Bottled hellfire, fun at parties."
"Ooh..." Natalia said, taking the bottle. "And how are things going there?"
"Pretty solidly, I think," James said.
"Ah, is Xantha the little harpy you've been hanging around with?" Tharalax asked.
"She's a fury, Tharalax! They're completely different!" James said.
"Bah, distinction without a difference," Tharalax said.
"What? No! Harpies are nonsapient animals! Furies are a demonic race descended from angels! The difference is very important!" James said.
"Well, there you go! See, Yariel? He's been down there 14 years and he's already teaching me things! You've been in and out of there for 50 and you can barely communicate without an interpreter!" Tharalax said.
"Yariel? Is our dad here?" Natalia asked, looking around and spotting the fallen angel throwing back wine. Given that it was the first time she'd seen him since she was small, and that she'd missed the entire prior conversation, she seemed a bit let down by his appearance. "Ah... I guess that's him?"
"What? No hug for your old man?" Yariel asked.
"I don't know, I'm a little afraid you might jinx me," Natalia said.
"What? What kind of lies is my sister filling your head with?" he asked.
"I have told no lies, brother," Galia said.
"But they do call it 'Pulling a Yariel' when someone does something stupid, and ends up breaking something important or valuable," Natalia said. "I heard it a lot when my shoulder spikes first came in... so many broken vases..."
"And Tharalax does make a point of marking out when I've beaten your record at something. It's usually not that difficult to be honest," James said.
"Not that sandbagging my brother will ever get tiresome, but what say we finally square away this business and have a proper 18th birthday for these kids?" Galia asked.
"Yes, I've got the cake ready back at the house. Since he actually showed up this time, and the kids haven't even shared an actual conversation with him, I guess Yariel can stay for the party," Bethany said.
"Oh thank god... Wait, wasn't there something about a restraining order?" Yariel asked.
"We'll consider this part of the meeting," Galia said. "At least, this time, but I wouldn't expect this to set a precedent if I were you, brother."
"Of course," Yariel said, noticeably less excited.
"If you'd been into the whole 'being a dad' thing, the last 18 years would've been a lot more pleasant for everyone," Bethany said.
"Mom! Birthday!" Natalia said, already stepping through the doorway.
With that, the group set out for the Fray household, to celebrate the twins' first day as true adults and the promising futures that await them... As well as make a few more jokes at Yariel's expense.

Astral or Star Jelly is a real event/substance that has been found in all areas of the earth (please Wikipedia it). My friend performed a DNA analysis on a sample of Star Jelly, and the results were amazing. His group concluded that the sample mostly had mitochondrial-like DNA, but it was very different from anything reported (much longer and having possible different base pairs).
Astral/Star Jelly is often found after meteorite showers or other astral events. I found some when I was young (heavy Northern Lights and Meteor Shower event). I crafted the first chapter of a potential novel. Please give feedback. I am switching to google docs, so soon I will have links to my works.
​
Chapter 1
The Byproduct of Gods
Her owners had held her for so many lifetimes that the stream, which flowed, near her family’s hut was gone. The trees that provided fuel, housing, and food were missing, replaced by a prairie. After all the years of the concept of returning home keeping her going, she did not feel safe. There were no people near her village, and it took her days to unearth signs of her youth. She discovered the land that she had first walked on only because the mountain and stones did not move. As she cleaned the Blue Volga granite idol of her parents’ deity, she felt nothing. The blue-green face of the god looked sad to her. He also was no longer safe. His followers were dead and his power forgotten.
Her first owner was a traveler. They moved with each new moon. Her master felt safe but she failed to understand that her entourage plodded along a predictable path. After many decades, a tale of a demon woman who did not age traveled the same circuit. Finally, a village attacked the demon. Her second owner was the daughter of the woman who bought her. The daughter decided to build a fortress and to rule her fief. Her third owner was the daughter’s son who had grown tired of never gaining his birthright. His guilt and myopic greed caused him to sell her to an alchemist. From that point on, she was an item for trade or barter.
Her final master failed to return home. She remained in his caravan for a week, performing her duties. When she had eaten all the food, she felt justified using her knowledge to destroy her metal shackles. It took her five days to dissolve her bindings with her jellies.
She thought of the places that she had felt safe. Those havens were all underground. A magician made her live in the passages beneath Kyiv when he was being hunted. The tunnels funneled the 15 rivers of the city and protected inhabitants from invaders or punishing ruling forces. For twenty years, she had lived in the coquina catacombs of Odessa. A man who thought he was a seer was convinced that his power had attracted the attention of dragons and demons. No one could approach the lair unseen.
After a week of searching the now unfamiliar area, the woman began to carve her home from the soil of her childhood. She spent fifty years making her home safe. Only she would know the paths and twists of her underground world. Only she would know where the escape exits emerged into the surrounding world.
Eventually, her home attracted others. The woman could have chased them away, but she felt a need to observe people. When the fourth generations of villagers were aging to the grave, there was no hiding the fact that she had not died. The villagers erected a semi-circular wall around the entrance to the woman’s cave. The wall grew and the woman did not protest the separation.
Generations later, people whispered that the villagers maintained the defenses of their community to keep the woman away from the town’s children at night. In the tavern, each generation of gallant males would boast that they would be the one to remove the blight of the woman from the town. When she inevitably outlasted them, she would attend the funeral of the most vocal warrior from each age group.
Daily the woman would remove more soil from her dugout. The community would search her discarded diggings for possible minerals or stones. They did not share any discoveries with the woman. During times of blight or famine, the locals would collect her soil and remove it from the community.
People would peer around the wall to scan the woman’s home. As the village grew, a leader placed two chairs at endpoints of the semi-circle barrier. During full moons, periods of strife, festivals, and other social events, menacing men sat in the chairs. Infrequently, people tried to enter the woman’s home. Aside from the guards, it was the more distraught people of the village who visited her.. The most recent person to enter the woman’s home was a grieving widow. Her grief made her seek the woman to find answers about her loss. Three mornings later, the villagers found the widow in the public square with drapes of herbs, flowers, and crafts around her limbs. The people thought the widow was dead or mindless from torture. When the widow awoke, she went to her house and began the chores for the day. When pressed about the woman’s abode, the widow would state that the home was loved, clean, and well maintained.
On the spring day when the widow was about to remarry, she was again discovered in the square coated with ropes of herbs, flowers, and idols. The woman disappeared for a decade after the wedding, but the widow brought her newborns to the opening of the earthwork to declare their names into the sunken space.
The aging hamlet relaxed when the woman was away. There was a sense of freedom in the people. They did not fear the retribution of the woman for their actions, and parents could not correct their children with threats of giving them to the woman. At times, the leaders of the people would consider filling in the woman’s hovel, but shovels and spades would split if used to cover the opening of the woman’s home. One regretful man tried using a mule and cart to dump rocks into the fastness. The stones crushed the man after his own tram flipped over on him.
Although the townsfolk feared and despised the woman, she had free reign in the village. As an indicator that she was amongst the people, the woman would adorn her head with a dark purple scarf. No other members of the village would wear that color. They looked for it whenever the woman shopped at the market. The woman paid with old and foreign coins, but the merchants welcomed the precious metals they were composed of. During the dark days of winter, the people collected the woman’s tender and deposited it into a lead box. The villagers had a belief that the more people touched the woman’s currency, the longer the winter would be.
After the community fortified against the woman, religious leaders organized efforts to erect carved idols and large wagon-wheel hexes aimed at her home. Each generation attempted to counter the woman with the current symbols of spiritual protection. The largest structure in the village was now a church, and the threshold of the church was oriented to face the woman’s home.
The woman was home when Alyona began her schooling in the church. She had learned the fundamentals of math, reading, and writing. She knew that her coursework would end soon. The village expected girls to be useful to a limit. Her mother walked her only surviving child to school along a path that would prevent their shadow from falling close to the woman’s realm. The villagers performed this ritual after someone claimed that the woman had controlled their behavior by stealing their shadow.
Alyona was daydreaming during school of a life away from the village when the woman touched her. Alyona had spent the morning in the woods collecting mushrooms and other edibles. Her findings made for great, free additions to their usually simple meals. . On days that Alyona returned with a bounty, they shared the extras with neighbors. It was a wager that these people would remember the gift and provide Alyona’s home with food during lean days.
The person gripping Alyona twirled her body so that she faced the opposite direction. Alyona assumed the culprit was another student or a young assistant at the church. It could have been a boy attempting to bully her to get her attention. She lowered her right hand, preparing to use the back to slap the violator. Alyona’s willingness to confront her accoster left when she saw the face of the woman under her purple scarf. Alyona knew she should look away from the woman, but her eyes locked with the woman’s gaze. All the stories the Alyona heard about the town ghoul stated that the woman was so old that her skeleton was all that was left of her body. The woman’s youthful face surprised Alyona. There were no lines or furrows on the woman’s forehead. If anything, Alyona would have stated that the woman’s face glowed.
I can smell it on your hands. The woman placed Alyona’s fingers under her nose. The force of the drawn air startled Alyona. She thought that the woman had pulled the top layer of skin off her index finger. Alyona’s toes curled when the woman sampled her hand. Across a church aisle, one of the priests was herding schoolchildren. He spotted the two of them. His face darkened at the sight of their contact.
WHAT IS ON YOUR HANDS, ALYONA? The priest shouted over the children.
Nothing, Sir. The woman’s tongue darted over the tip of Alyona’s index finger. I was harvesting in the woods before class.
You touched more than growths and nuts this morning, Singleton Child of the Crying Matron. The woman chewed on her thumbnail.
Alyona did not like her mother being referred to in that way, but the eyes of the woman immobilized her. How could she react forcefully to a person who was savoring her hand?
She is mine today, priest. The woman held out her other hand to the shepherd of the church. I will pay her mother for occupying her child for the day, and she will be returned unsoiled and whole.
The priest brought a gurgle of protest up but was shut down quickly.
My tunnels are beneath your place of worship and the bedchambers of Mistress Blake, The women stomped on the ground, and I know all of what has occurred within your walls.
Alyona realized that she was screaming when her throat began to sear. She expected that the woman’s hole would be dark, but the home glowed. There were mirrors and reflective glasses positioned throughout the house to harness sun rays from many holes and entrances in the surface of the residence. Therefore, Alyona was able to see herself yelling on fifty surfaces.
Hush child. The woman touched her mouth. Do not be afraid of the manner in which I inspected you. It is a show for the people. I only want to talk about your morning, and then I will let you go with a full belly and money to buy many toys.
Alyona felt her utterances dwindle down to a wheeze that slipped out her lips.
You have the scent on your fingers, girl. The woman was now examining Alyona’s left hand. It is on both hands, so you must have found a huge source.
A source? Alyona wanted to look at her hands but she maintained her attention on the woman.
Sit. The woman pointed to a well-padded chair. Sit and I will return with small pies and honey.
Alyona hovered over the seat. She wanted to be strong and to stand, but then she smelt the pies. The chair was very soft. There were no pins, claws, or spines in the cushion like she feared.
Alyona. The voice of the woman wove through the tunnels of the underground network. Alyona felt her name circle around her. She had never been afraid of her name before. Alyona Pistan…daughter of Fiva and the missing soldier.
Alyona closed her fist and felt the pain of her nails digging into her palms.
Fiva lives off the salary that the Duke must pay for your father’s military service. Your mother knows that the Duke no longer wants to pay this burden.
Alyona wanted to speak but her throat stung from screaming.
Your father’s name is Bay. He earned this title because he would not stop speaking when he was a baby. Like a horse that always had an opinion, your father would squawk at everyone before he knew words. The voice was now coming directly towards Alyona. My first gift to you and Fiva is the information that your father lives. There was a pause in the woman’s words. An enemy does not enslave him; he is lost with the simpleton that led him away. One day a map will lead him home, child.
The woman emerged from a cutout with a basket laden with pies, a pot of honey, wooden utensils, and slices of ham. In her other hand, she held a bucket of colored water.
We will eat together. The woman placed the basket on Alyona’s lap and retrieved two cups. After you accept the first pie, I will tell you an important secret of mine.
I do not think I want to know any of your secrets Starly-Gradda.
The woman laughed and placed the small wooden spoon into the pie directly in front of Alyona.
Elder-grandmother, you call me. The woman dunked a cup into the water and held it in her left hand. I think that term is the nicest thing a child has called me in a lifetime.
Alyona brought the food to her lips. She smelt the mint, berries, and kasha. Gently she laid the pie onto her tongue. She did not chew; she only let it rest in her mouth. She expected that the food would burn or numb her. The taste was full and made her wish to spit the substance out because it was too good to be real.
Ah, she eats. The woman clapped her hands. I was your age when I saw my first god being born.
Alyona choked on the pie.
I was sitting by a riverbank when the god entered our place. The woman drank from her cup. It was a bright yellow fish with shiny scales. I saw it come from nothing to being here.
The woman snapped her fingers and Alyona swallowed her food.
No one prayed for its existence. No one was singing for it to bring salvation. The woman made circles with her hands in front of Alyona. As far as I know, simple fish do not worship gods, but a god came for the fish of that river.
The woman tapped Alyona’s hand to take another bite of pie.
It floated there. The woman held up her hands. Here I am…a young maiden…thinking a god or demon turned itself into this creature to seduce or corrupt me. Again, a chuckle came from the woman. No other god cared about this special fish. I think it was floating only because it did not realize that a fish should swim in water.
Alyona grabbed a slice of ham. It had been two months since she had meat that was not paste.
Eventually, the golden fish fell into the water and swam away. The woman pulled back her hood and revealed her full face to Alyona. I tried to follow it, but it swam away from shore, and I lost sight of it.
Alyona cleared her throat and licked her lips.
Girl, if you want a drink, just take it. The woman filled Alyona’s cup and handed it to her. The ham is not that salty, but I think your sore throat would improve if you drank.
Alyona sipped the water. It did not taste bitter. It did not smell foul. In fact, the water’s taste was a mixture of apples, roses, and plums.
I told my mother, and she whispered to my father that they needed to trade me into marriage now, before I became soft in the head. I did not want to marry at my age, so I told her that I would go find proof of my shiny golden fish. The woman used a toothpick to dollop out a portion of honey. There was nothing in the water when I returned. I waded in the cool stream. I put my head under the surface and looked at the rocks for the golden shimmer. I found nothing.
Alyona ate the ham.
I was weeping on the spot that I saw the god be born. My heart was full of dread. I started to believe that the shiny golden god was not real. I was so sad that I was quickly accepting that I would be married to an old man so that he would tolerate my problems. The woman tapped her top lip. I felt that my mother had no love for me. I thought that if the golden fish were my mother, it would love me just because that is what should be.
Alyona selected another pie. This pie contained spices and mashed nuts.
Your mother loves you. I listen to all the words spoken in this village. If a parent lacks love for their child, I correct them or have them leave. The woman did not form a fist. She turned her hand into a claw, the conviction in her words hanging in the air until she relaxed it. As all hope was gone, I put my hand down in the grass, and felt the substance.
The woman held her hand flat towards Alyona.
It was clear. It was squishy like the rendered bones of stock animals. It had a pleasant smell, but I was scared to taste it. The woman cupped her hands. I gathered this glob. I used the front of my dress to carry the material. When I believed that the last speck was contained in my clothing, I ran to my parents.
Alyona had felt something similar in the forest that morning.
My mother accused me of only finding the discarded waste of an animal. She threatened to smear it over my face. The woman moved the honey pot closer to Alyona. My father took me to the village shaman, and he looked at the material. They scraped the material off my clothes, but not around my breasts. The shaman thought it was bone waste from an owl, the eggs of a species of frog, a shell-less egg from a dying bird, a mushroom that was usually underground, or the spit of an evil spirit.
Alyona’s eyes widened.
Of course, something as amazing as what we found would be considered evil. The woman waved her hand. I have discovered many bundles and I have never seen the substance created by an evil thing.
No? Alonya asked, breaking her food-induced silence.
No, child. The woman touched the tip of Alyona’s nose. It is not to say that evil people and things are not interested in the substance, but the creation of it does not come from evil.
Alyona resumed consuming the luxurious treats.
The morning after I saw the god being born, people started to fall sick. The woman sighed. My mother blamed the god substance. It was hard for the village not to turn on me after my mother told them it was my fault. The woman’s shoulders lowered. I had not slept that night, and I did not clean after my discovery. They put me in a crate that only had three holes. My father fed me and still cared for me.
Alyona did not know how to react but to nod at the woman.
When my elder brother was close to death from the illness, my mother brought him to my crate. She told me that I would have to watch my brother die because I was an evil liar who unleashed a demon on the community. I could see him wither in pain from the openings in my prison. The woman moved a third pie in front of Alyona. The night my mother told me that my brother would die, my father talked to me. It was an act of rebellion against my mother, but he asked me if I knew what had happened. I cried to him about how this was not something I did. I pleaded with my dad that I would never make my brother suffer, and that the day watching him had crushed my will to live.
The woman tore a slice of ham into pieces and placed pieces of the meat on the floor of her keep.
My father and I wept. He told me that I was likely to die because of the sickness. The woman tapped the tray. Not that I was sick… or was likely to get sick, but because it would seem as justice to the people. I knew his words were true, but I could not think of anything else to say.
The third pie was berry and egg meringue. Alyona did not know that pies like this one existed.
I entered the crate in the dress I wore when I saw the god be born. The truth is that I only had that dress and a wedding dress. My mother kept the dress I would’ve worn to my wedding in a box near her bed. A cat approached the pieces of ham. My grandfather had given me the wedding dress when he died, but she took it from me. My father used what he received from his father to buy me the only special clothes I would have in my life. My father loved me, Alyona, just like yours.
The cat touched Alyona’s leg. It startled her, and she confirmed that the cat was not black.
We talked about the jelly I had found. My father told me that he had tried to burn it, thinking it was an odd piece of animal fat. The substance did not burn. My father then tried to crush it out of existence, but the material was soft, but not easily destroyed. The woman touched the center of her chest. My father’s words made me remember that there was still some of the jelly on my dress. I touched where they did not scrape, and there was a patch of the substance. I pinched the substance and it coated my fingers. It felt warm, but not hot.
Alyona was glad that the cat had returned to the ham.
My father grew angry. He was arguing with the air that if he were a real man, he would protect his daughter and revive his son. He was a good father. The woman showed Alyona a closed smile. He was crying because he knew he could do nothing. I was sore and battered from being in the crate. I felt so greasy and disgusting. I thought I was no longer the same girl that wandered in the meadows.
The woman offered to refill Alyona’s water cup.
For some reason, I brought the fingers I had used to touch the smear of the jelly that was on my dress to my mouth. The taste was tangy, but not foul. It was better than the food that my father had inserted into the holes in my crate. I sucked on it. With both hands, the woman rattled the basket. I felt so much better. It was amazing. I could not see it, but I felt my dry, cracked lips heal. My mind became clear. I knew what I had to do.
Alyona stopped eating to listen to the woman.
I asked my father to place my brother’s mouth in front of the biggest hole of my crate. He thought I was mad. He accused me of confessing that I pledged my soul to demons, but I told him that I felt different after praying to our god. The woman looked directly at Alyona. I rubbed my fingers on the same spot of my dress, and I placed them into my brother’s mouth. He was so weak that he did not respond to this action. I moved my fingers along his gums, his teeth, I even touched his tongue.
Alyona spoke to the woman. Was he healed right away?
The woman chuckled.
I like you Alyona, but you have the impatience of a child. The woman touched Alyona’s chin. It was not a sudden reversal, but he did not die. People died that night, but my brother lived. More importantly, he was the only person to get even slightly better. He was not running in the fields, talking to everyone better, but he was no longer crying in pain. His eyes were no longer looking like they would burst. Moreover, my father stopped crying for us.
I am glad. Alyona looked at the half-eaten pie. She wanted more of it, but she thought it would be rude to return to eating.
It was another day, another four deaths, before my father told the shaman that he thought I could heal the sick. They pulled me from the crate and inspected me. The women called for me to be stoned. The men wanted me burned. The shaman asked how my brother was alive, and how I was still in good health. The woman tapped her right temple. I knew I had to lie. I knew that I could not tell the truth. I had to convince these scared people that I was not dangerous.
The woman shuffled the half pie back to Alyona.
I fell in front of the shaman and shouted, ‘The Green Man came to me.’ I do not think you know the Green Man, child, but he was the god of the people before Christ came to the land. The woman pointed to a drawing of a large tree man. It matters not what god I said talked to me. I yelled that I knew that I did something wicked, but our god had forgiven me, and I was now able to cure the sickness that was killing the village.
Alyona returned to eating the pie.
They whipped me and bound me. I feared that they would burn my dress, so I yelled that the Green Man said that if I were to heal the village, I would need to be as I was when he forgave and blessed me. The woman opened her hands so that Alyona could see her palms. The oldest people would pray in this manner. They tied my legs together and only allowed my right arm to be free. However, that was all I needed to start to heal the people of my life.
Alyona finished her meal.
I would say our prayers; tell the people who were watching that the Green Man wanted everyone to close their eyes so that his healing ray could hit the person. The woman pulled her head backwards with a laugh. During this time, I would pull some of the jelly off my dress and stick the substance in the person’s mouth.
The woman laughed deeply.
What? Alyona asked.
I did not know that so many of my fellow villagers were missing teeth. Children of the people that always had food, had damaged and missing teeth. I was trapped and bored, so my mind began to guess how many disgusting teeth injuries each person would have.
Alyona shivered.
I thought the teeth were bad, but then it got worse. The woman looked upwards. It was on the third day of my healing that it happened for the first time. It was night, and the shaman had decided to blind me with a rag during the healing. Someone’s parents said that they did not want me to steal the soul of their child while I healed them. I placed my finger into a very small mouth, and everything was different. I did not feel a tingle from treating a person with the substance. I sang our songs to Green Man and rubbed jelly over my right fingers. I had planned to give the infant as much of the stuff as I could. The woman covered her eyes. The tiny body jumped, but there was still no response.
Why? Alyona wanted to know.
The baby was dead. I did not know if the god-gift could bring life back to a person. I was scared that if I did not return this child alive to their parents, I would be killed. The woman bobbed her head to the ceiling of her cave home. I kept doing it for a long time. I replenished the coating of my fingers four times, but still there was no living response. I finally shouted into the air. I faked arguing with the Green Man. I begged him to give me the infant. I spoke words that no one had ever heard in an odd voice that I thought would sound like the Green Man. This battle went on for minutes until I asked if whoever brought this child to me would allow the Green Man to have the special child live with him. I am not sure if the parents knew that their baby had died. I am uncertain if the parents wanted me to do something that I thought was evil, but a male voice eventually responded that it would be an honor if his young son joined the hunters of the Green Man.
Alyona gasped.
I spoke in my fake Green Man’s voice that the parents of his new hunter would be honored with a new child by the next spring. I informed the parents that they would find gifts for the next year. The woman rocked her head so that she was looking at the floor. They brought me five more dead people to heal, but no more deceased children. I did not make a fuss over the dead adults. I stated that the Green Man blamed the family for their death. If they truly believed in the power of the Green Man, they would have brought their loved ones to me before the sickness took them.
Alyona nodded her head.
On the fifth day, my fingers were raw. My nails felt like they were growing too fast. I guess I was healing and benefiting from the jelly, but I was placing the same fingers into people’s mouths most of the day. The worst problem was that my dress was getting dry. The woman traced her lips with her right index finger. I think my father was watching me. I think he saw me searching desperately on my dress for any of the substance. I believe this because he brought me fresh peas to eat that night. In the third pea he gave me, the pod was full of the jelly.
Did your village love you for healing everyone after those days? Alyona smiled at the woman.
No. The woman patted the girl’s forehead. They kept me in the crate. There was no joy for me after I found the jelly.
You saved them.
The woman breathed deeply.
I said that the Green Man had used me to save them. I was nothing but a tarnished girl who may have the power to harm or make people ill. The woman turned her head to the side.
Did your father and brother free you from the crate? Alyona looked hopefully at the woman.
No child, the town folk dispatched the shaman with me in that wooden prison out into the world to purge the town of my evil. He threatened to kill me daily. He attempted to abandon me at every opportunity. The woman cupped her hand in front of Alyona. When I sensed a second source of the god jelly, he was able to sell me to a person.
No! Alyona did not know if it was a spell, but she was extending her hand towards the woman.
The sum was so great that my parents and brother lived well. The woman clapped each hand separately. That was after the shaman took his share of my bounty and spent more money on food, drink, and women on the trip home.
That’s…..
That is life, my special girl. The woman grabbed her hand and they stood up. The woman led the pair through tunnels and caverns. Eventually, the woman pulled her through a blanket of vines that concealed an exit to her labyrinth.
Your forest, Alyona. The woman gestured to the glade Alyona crossed to enter the woods.
Alyona pulled her hand away from the woman and pulled her hair back.
I am not sure what you want me to find. Alyona looked up to the woman. She received a smile.
I have never told anyone this before, the woman stuck her tongue out to Alyona, when I first touched the jelly, I felt that there were ants under my skin. It was the power of the jelly moving through me. It was such an odd feeling that I thought it was a sign of madness.
Alyona lowered her head. I felt something like that. I thought it was worms latching onto me from the peat.
That is the place, little one. Take me there.
Alyona was about to step forward when the woman asked her another question.
What color was the substance you touched today?
It was not one color, ma’am. Alyona moved her hand down to her legs. She brushed unseen but felt passengers from her body. I grabbed it first because I thought it was rose root. My mother could turn the flower into medicine to sell or trade. Alyona knelt and touched the ground. Except that the flower was so low to the ground and it was not the red or yellow flower I normally pick. They were violet with orange centers.
They did not feel like flowers.
No. Alyona pulled her hand away from the ground. They stuck to me like honey.

Hey everyone, I'm Jake I'm 19 yrs old and from the east coast. I'm looking to build a friend group from scratch because tbh I've had tumultuous time in the past with pre-existing friend groups and need some cool people in my corner that aren't familial. In my past experiences either I don't gel well with the people, they turn out to be freaks/creeps to my dismay, or they turn out to be overly political/racist or homophobic and everyone who I genuinely like atm is currently either inactive or across the globe. Anyways though, I'm mainly looking for people who can be pleasant to be around and hopefully build genuine connections with for years to come. I also require you to be from NA, SA, or Europe due to timezones. I also have no tolerance at this point for creep behavior, instigators, or people with no common sense. You can be shy or anxious to start just please don't join and then never interact with anyone for my sanity because every time I've attempted something like this that is what happens. I'm hoping we can game, goof with visual novels (Monster Prom, Ace Attorney, The murder of Sonic, etc), chitchat, talk sports and other stuff, and have watch parties for dumb/cringe videos or movies/shows (that I don't mind if you commentate over because most people are too serious about that and I find it more engaging anyway). I'm saving up for a new PC so I'm slightly limited as to what I can play but for now I can play any party game through remote play together (Jackbox, Gang Beasts, Stick Fight, Pummel Party, etc), Grounded, Valheim, Modded MC, Gunfire Reborn, MythForce, Disney Speedstorm, & Rounds. I can't play heftier stuff like GTA online or horror games (Demonologist, Phasmophobia, Forewarned, Outlast Trials, etc) until I do get said new PC. If you're genuinely interested hmu with an intro of any length with the word Santa placed somewhere in it to know you read all this and I'll add you and hopefully we can start getting acquainted. Sorry if this came off rude at all it's just self-preservation due to past issues, but hope you guys have a good one and cheers.

I was with some family over the weekend and we have a little nephew (4) who's actually pretty well behaved and pleasant 90% of the time.
However, there have been moments where I really thought... wow I am glad I do not want a child. My thoughts about children are:

• they're hard to keep up with, physically and mentally. They somehow have so much energy despite them having been running and jumping around.
  
• screaming, ughh it's so painful for the ears, and this was playful, excitement screaming, not moody screaming.
  
• having to repeat commands multiple times because they're attention span ain't so great.
  
• small manipulation tactics, they're not malicious but you can tell when they're trying yo use their cuteness to get something they want.
  
• similar to the first point but constantly having to interact with them and you cannot have 5 mins alone. They can talk alot! .
  
• keeping them safe, despite being in a group I have found myself following my nephew to ensure he's safe most of the time, I felt like a sheep dog herding sheep.
  
• dealing with tantrums, when it happens bloody hell you need a patient of a Saint.
  

Not sure how parents do it, having their whole world taken over by their little sprogs. I'm sure there are moments of being fulfilled and proud of their children but at the same time I could see how they could wear you down. I don't think I could give up my freedom for all of this. It's too much whilst sometimes getting very little returned.
.

Continued from Pt. 1, which can be found at:
Pt 1: https://www.reddit.com/Horror_stories/comments/13wymkl/ghost_word_pt_1/
WARNING: This story contains depictions of non-consensual sex and gun violence.
---------------------------------
Lyle found himself on foot, the valise at his side, the night air crisp and noisy. He realized he was ravenous. No surprise there, he hadn’t had anything to eat or drink in twenty-six hours. The late evening traffic was brisk around the campus, and as he passed a roving pack of students Lyle realized it was Thursday night*. Thirsty Thursdays*.
In keeping with ancient tradition, the majority of undergraduates avoided Friday morning classes at all costs, preferring to begin their weekend revels on Thursday nights. Lyle followed his feet. He imagined power emanating from the briefcase at his side, thrumming up his arm. He felt, for perhaps the first time in a life of shrinking uncertainty, boundless.
And it felt extraordinary.
Somewhere inside of him a notion was forming that he did not dare articulate. But he followed his feet. The easy ebb and flow of walk signals, the pleasantly cool night air, the passing chatter, even the occasional car-horn—which in the past had never failed to startle him, jittery as he was—seemed buoyant and agreeable. The night was his. He realized he was sloping gently downhill, as he followed his feet. He realized he knew exactly where he was going. He found himself before O’Flaherty’s Pub, with its sandwich-board blaring LADIES NIGHT 1/2 WELL DRINKS -- TRUST ME YOU CAN DANCE in electric pink loops. It felt only natural to step beneath the awning, swing wide the knotted mahogany door, and enter the din.
The ham-hock manning security—probably a redshirt lineman in his off-season—turned toward Lyle on autopilot, one hand reaching out as a question formed on his lips, lemme see some ID. Lyle made no attempt to reach for his wallet because he knew the inevitable would happen when the bouncer took in his face, which he did a half second later. A tiny beat of recognition flickered and was gone, and the bouncer turned away. No need to card the old dude. Good luck navigating the vicissitudes of adult life, you Mongoloid, Lyle thought. The jag off had a Black & Mild tucked up behind one ear, Lyle felt an insane urge to snatch it off his head and break it in half. He did not do well with the pretend authority of chunky, dead-eyed adolescents.
But I’m not here for him.
Lyle wove his way into the evening crush with the delicate, shuffling little steps he always used in crowds. By fits and starts he made his way deeper, deeper, winding toward the back bar, the one with the full-length mirror. That was her favorite. O’Flaherty’s had a Crosley jukebox, wood-paneled and coin-operated, reaching for vintage but stuffed to the gills with Bluetooth and wi-fi and digital memory and whatever else. A woman’s voice was booming out of it, an empty pop ballad gussied up by her big, operatic sound. Lyle tried to think of the singer’s name, but couldn’t. He squeezed into a narrow gap at the back bar.
Darby was flirting as she mixed a rum-and-coke for a gawky, dough-faced kid in a flat-cap and a Harrington jacket. On the few occasions he had come out on Darby missions, Lyle had stayed well back from the bar, waiting for drink service at one of the small cafe tables lining the billiard room. But tonight, he wasn’t here to watch.
Darby handed off the drink and caught sight of Lyle. He winced—he could read the surprise, even discomfort, on her face. But she was tending bar, and she was quick on her feet, and she rearranged her expression into a smile. She held up a finger—*one sec—*to which Lyle nodded, as she took flat-cap’s (father’s) Amex back to the register and opened up a tab.
Lyle enjoyed watching her walk. Enjoyed looking at her from the back, or in profile. He usually saw her face, in class, big brown doe eyes and very pale, freckled skin. A shade away from clear, he had heard her joke once, to James, as she had invited him to touch the roadmap of blue veins on her inner arm. That had enraged Lyle—the sudden, unwelcome image of James with those long creamy legs locked over his waist, his long, slow thrusts.
Because he restrained himself from ogling her in class, it was a pleasure to come to O’Flaherty’s during her shifts and watch her as she worked. Darby was not the first of what Lyle thought of as his “favorites”. Every year or two there was a fresh, irresistible young thing, for him to think about, alone, late at night. One of the unspoken perks of professordom was the constant influx of eye-candy, of short skirts and long legs and high asses and pert young tits. In his mind’s eye it was an endless profusion of imagined aureoles, of wondering about their panties—boy-briefs or frilly little whatsits or g-strings or none at all—and even if Lyle never slept with them there was an intense eroticism in holding power over these girls he could never have bedded in his own college years. In pushing that term paper over the failing line and waiting, deliciously waiting, for them to come to his office hour and plead. Only Darby’s work was reasonably competent, so even that grimy thrill was denied him.
Darby finished up with the register and came over, the pale of her neck stark against her tight black t-shirt. O’FLAHERTY’S was printed on it in green, the name stretched to accommodate her bust. Her hair frazzled at the temples; she’d been working hard.
Just a little dirty, that’s how I like you, he thought.
“Dr. L! We missed you today, thought maybe you caught the gunk. You all right?” Darby beamed her big smile at him, a gift of the gods (and of immaculate orthodontics).
“I’m fine, Darby, thanks. Just a communication mix-up. I’m sorry you all waited.”
She kept smiling, seemed to be waiting for more. He didn’t give it to her.
“Well—can I get you anything?”
Lyle hesitated, trying to think of a manly drink, something urbane and—professorial.
“Scotch-rocks. A double.”
Darby continued to stare at him, expectantly. “Any… particular poison, or-?”
Lyle glanced up, made a show of studying the bottles arrayed behind her. He knew nothing about scotch. Stupid. He settled on Johnnie Walker Black, and Darby poured his drink.
Lyle realized his heart was racing. Darby set the drink in front of him and he downed half of it in one swallow. He managed to keep his face neutral as the liquor seared his throat.
“This is a—little bit of a departure, for you, huh?” Darby indicated the scotch.
“What?”
She must have known he heard her but she raised her voice anyway. The music had changed to a British pop group with a lot of electronic undertones, trying to sound haunting.
“The scotch,” she said. “Don’t you always order lemon drop martinis? When you come in?”
Busted. Two bright red circles appeared high on his cheeks.
“You know, it, it depends,” he replied. “Depends on my mood. And you—you make a hell of a lemon drop martini, here.”
Fucking idiot, he thought. They make the same Goddamn lemon drop martini as everybody else and she knows it.
Darby was smooth, though. Graceful. She rolled right past it. “I wondered why you never came over and said hi.”
“Well I don’t want to, you know, be a bother. You’re working. It’s always busy. And I’ve been coming here for years, off and on. You get used to seeing students out on the town. I try to give them their space.”
“Oh.” Her smile reappeared. “Well I’m glad you came over. Let me know if I can get you anything else?” She was already angling away.
“How was class today?” Lyle didn’t want to let her go. She glanced down the bar, she had customers waiting.
“It was great, really great,” she hurried her answer. She was giving him the brush-off. “James did great. He’s an awesome teacher. Awesome guy.”
“You know, I’d been meaning to ask you, about James…” Lyle leaned in, conspiratorially. Darby’s smile was faltering, but courtesy won out and she leaned in to hear.
“Are you fucking him?”
Darby recoiled, as though he had spit on her.
“What?”
“Do you laugh at me, when you do it? When you fuck, do you laugh at the scabby, horn-dog professor?”
Darby’s breath hitched in her chest, she looked like she was about to cry. She took a step back. She looked down the bar, and then past him—toward the door.
Bouncer, he thought. She’s looking for the bouncer.
“I think you need to—” she began.
Then Lyle said the Word. The alien Word, meant to be moaned, easy as pie, really, when you thought about it, how the sounds flowed together. The Word that meant libido.
Darby froze. Her pupils flickered, Lyle saw, they constricted down to pinpricks, and then dilated as wide as they could go, swallowing the puppy-dog brown of her irises. Her face went slack. That wide, expensive smile vanished, and her mouth hung slightly open.
“Moisten your lips, Darby,” he said.
Her tongue slid out, pink and supple, and she obeyed.
Oh, my God, she OBEYED.
Lyle’s penis twitched in his pants, he realized he was painfully erect, his balls aching. He realized he had been, had been since—since I said the Word—since he had her and a cruel, savage sense of triumph shook him, he felt his pulse hammering in his veins, he felt like standing up on the bar and—
ROARING I want to ROAR at this dewy twat and all her imbecilic peers—
But instead, he took his cock firmly in his hand, through the cheap fabric of his Ross trousers, squeezed himself, and said—
“What are we going to do with you, Darby?”
#
Lyle fucked her in the alleyway behind O’Flaherty’s. That meant hurrying more than he liked, the dumpster provided cover but the blocks surrounding the campus were too well policed. It was all right, though. Now that he was armed with the libido-Word, the next time could be more leisurely.
He took her in. All of her. The small, surprisingly dark nipples, nothing like he’d imagined. The fine, black hairs on the nape of her neck, the peach fuzz of her freckled low back, her inner thighs. Her panties were white briefs with green stitching, they were covered with tiny frogs. He tugged them down, and nuzzled her there. He left hickeys, on her ass, her mons. Her smooth, exquisite young cunt.
Lyle took her from behind and saw the groggy confusion in her dilated eyes, the amazement*—*and through that the pleasure, the unsuspected, unwanted, violating pleasure that jolted moans out of her.
Lyle sucked her neck, bit it, hard enough to sting. She gave a tiny mewl as she came, and her spasm triggered him also. Lyle buried himself to the hilt in her, finished in her, and felt—
Like a king. Like a GOD.
They stayed there as the minutes stretched out, panting, still joined. He savored her, until his own tumescence vanished, and he slipped out. Lyle patted her derriere.
“Get dressed and get back to work, Darby,” he said. “We don’t want you to get in trouble.”
She jerked her head, drunkenly, from side to side, as though she were trying to shake water out of her ears. Lyle breathed deep, in through his nose, the fine scents of the city. Fried food nearby, probably the Thai joint catty-corner to the pub. He stood and admired, as Darby tugged her frog-panties back up those long pale legs.
“I’ll see you in class.”
Darby stared blankly at him as he took up his suitcase, turned, and strode into the night.
#
When Lyle opened his eyes the next morning, he was only mildly surprised to discover that he felt no guilt at all. The sun streamed in, the world was up and running, coffee was calling, and by God he felt fine.
He sat up in bed, stretched. He glanced at the alarm clock, that hateful sentinel, now toothless—10:27AM. The mattress was bare, beneath him. He’d never washed the sheets. Puddled on the floor were yesterday’s clothes. He resisted the urge to tidy them up. Later. He padded to the bathroom and went about his ablutions, brushed his teeth, took out his shaving kit. He had used the sleep-Word on himself again, last night. After.
After! He let the memories wash over him. Her smell: the tang of sweat, bar-odors, the undercurrent of peach soap. The taste of her! And then the feast, afterward. He had followed his nose to Great Elephant Thai, wolfed down a plate of kai thot, fried to a crisp and dripping oil*.* It may have been the finest meal of his life.
And he had had such dreams! Dreams of Darby, and of favorites past. Dreams of fucking and of wealth and of slights avenged and of respectful, deferential looks, dreams of voices falling silent when he entered a room, of every eye on him. A song lyric drifted into his head, something from his childhood, a favorite of his father’s one long summer, repeated ad nauseam on the fourteen-hour drive down to Savannah.
“Twenty years a’crawlin’… were bottled up in Tommy… he wasn’t holding nothin’ back, he let ‘em have it all…” Lyle sang, full voice, into the morning. A stupid grin spread over his face, as he wicked away the last patch of Barbasol, the careful spot right over his Adam’s apple, and rinsed his razor. He took a long look at Mirror-Lyle, looked into his eyes. He almost always avoided a close examination of his reflection, force of habit, but today he was a new man, and he wanted to take that man’s measure.
“Everyone… considered him… THE COWARD OOOF… the COUNTYYYY…”
Something else surfaced, then, in his memory, something that cranked the wattage down on his smile. He didn’t get all of it, just a glimpse, like a dorsal fin rising above the water. He had dreamed of more than power and sex. There had been something else. Lyle had a vague red recollection of tangled depths and faceless figures. His mind offered up a fleeting image of a crumbling stone structure, of keening wind and squat pillars; and of a great broken vault overhead, through which could be seen a blasted sky.
Lyle charged his phone as he brewed up a fresh pot. It had run out of juice somewhere during yesterday’s festivities, and when it finally powered up again it began to vibrate against the Formica tabletop in his dining nook. He ignored the first two pulses, but the phone insistently continued, not with the regular rhythm of an incoming call, but rather the inconsistent bursts of message notifications trickling in from the cloud. He tapped the touchscreen, and saw he had seven missed calls: one from a colleague, yesterday; and six from James, each one with a voicemail attached. The most recent of these had come just twenty minutes ago.
Lyle sipped on his coffee as he retrieved the briefcase from beneath his bed. He sat at his dinette and removed the fascicle, easily finding the rigid page. He opened it, and this time the new Word was waiting for him below the first, long entry: the entry corresponding to the letter “A” itself. This Word was angry, Ks and Zs, a hornet-word, serpent-word. Lyle looked to the white space, where the definition would arise. He pricked his forefinger with the tip of a steak knife and squeezed out two droplets of blood.
der zorn
Lyle sipped. Lyle thought. Greek, then Latin, now German. Was it moving forward in time? He wondered again about those first shapes he had seen, in the library. The more he tried to remember the more he doubted they had been in Greek. Something older, maybe. Phoenician syllabary? He would likely never know. But the Words were changing. The book was changing.
And there was this: both of the—*spells, they’re spells, let’s cut the shit—*both of the Words it had given him so far had been…
“Intuitive,” he said finally. “Useful. Like it knew.”
Lyle took down the last foil sleeve of blueberry Pop Tarts from his cupboard. Pauper’s breakfast, he thought, but not for much longer. He searched through his contacts until he found the number for the Chancellor’s office. He thumbed the little blue phone icon beside it.
#
Lyle had just started boxing up his things when James burst into his office, perfectly symmetrical face distorted by fury, his generous features made ugly. Ah, the righteousness of youth. James took in the dense sheaf of Staples boxes, waiting to be folded; took in the bare walls, the stacked diplomas and photographs.
“What the fuck is this?” he demanded.
“Emergency leave,” Lyle answered with a dismissive wave. “I’ve had a family crisis. I’m afraid I have to attend to it. Professor Chole will be taking over my workload for the remainder of the semester, I’m sure she’ll be in touch—"
“What did you do to Darby? What the fuck did you do?” James spoke with the husky, quaking tone of pure adrenaline. He was just barely restraining himself from lunging across the desk, Lyle realized. He took the younger man in with bemused calm. He let the moment stretch out.
“Therese called me,” James continued, the words throttling out of him. “Darby’s roommate. She came home last night, she has—bruises, all over her, little, little *bites—*she won’t speak, she just sits there and cries, but she said your name. It’s the only thing she said. What did you do to her, Lyle? Did you rape her?”
“Dr. Hereford,” Lyle replied.
James craned forward. “What?”
*“*You don’t get to call me Lyle.”
Lower, now, almost a whisper: “Tell me what you did to her.”
“I made her come,” Lyle said. “And she fucking loved it.”
James did lunge then, he screamed and he leapt across the desk, coming down on Lyle in a tangle of thrashing limbs and rabbit punches, the two of them toppling Lyle’s chair, compressing awkwardly into the tight space between desk and wall. James kicked hard off of the gray metal drawers, managing to end up on top. His hands found Lyle’s throat and began to squeeze. Lyle felt himself constricting, felt the energy draining out of him, pinned, as he lost oxygen. He noticed the curds of spittle at the corners of James’s snarling mouth. He started to see spots in the periphery of his vision, and as he slapped ineffectually at James’s face he thought am I going to die here—?
Lyle dug down for the last of his strength. The Word chose me. This wasn’t the end. Couldn’t be the end. He extended his leg as far as it would go, and used the distance to drive his knee, hard, into James’s crotch. A grunting exhale was propelled out of the younger man*.* Lyle pulled back to do it again; James squeezed his thighs together to block, and when he did, he compromised his balance. He took one hand off Lyle’s throat and thrust out his arm to catch himself as be began to roll, allowing Lyle to draw in a long, ragged breath.
Then Lyle spoke the Word.
The der zorn-Word.
The word that meant anger, that meant rage, that meant WRATH.
#
“Son. Son, you’re bleeding, let me—let me help you, come on. Son, it’s gonna be okay, come on, now— “
The campus policeman approaches James like a dog that might be rabid, that slow hunched posture with arms wide, except for the policeman it’s only one arm because his right hand is flush up against his service weapon and his thumb snaps the little thumbsnap and it’s a very small noise but it’s so loud in James’s head and he shakes it, his head, does James, from side to side, in herks and jerks, like a dog that might be rabid, now, like there’s water in his ears and he’s trying to shake it out, is James, and the policeman is coming on and speaking in clear precise syllables that explode behind James’s temples, clusterbomb-words, and the cop is speaking but he’s hearing another voice, is James, and it’s Lyle’s voice, it’s Dr. L’s voice, not Lyle never Lyle, and Dr. L’s voice is saying snakebit you’re snakebit she fucking LOVED it and James touches his own face now and it must be true because there’s blood on his face and when he blinks his blink is heavy and liquid like he just dropped Visine in there but the thing is but only but except it’s blood and he’s bleeding from the eyes, is James, and now the policeman is right on top of him saying “son what happened can you hear me respond if you can hear me” and James hears the exploding words all right and he blinks and blood oozes from the corners of his eyes and the cop is changing now, in the blood, his face is BOILING and now it’s Darby’s face on the policeman and she opens her mouth and her head cranes back and she’s ruined inside OH FUCK SHE’S RUINED INSIDE SHOT HERSELF SHE SHOT HERSELF SHE’S SHOT and now it’s DR L IT’S DR L SCREAMING SNAKEBIT SNAKEBIT SNAKEBIT—
James rears back and head-butts the campus cop as hard as he can, the smooth acne-less center of James’s forehead connecting with the soft cartilage of the policeman’s nose. A sick crunch echoes in the lobby of the Humanities building, a young woman close enough to hear it vomits on the floor, it is the first puking incident of the day but not the last.
The cop recoils with a sick moan, in his surprise clapping his hands to his shattered nose; in that moment James bellows, an awful inarticulate animal sound of hate, and yanks the policeman’s service piece free of his holster.
The handful of rubbernecking students freeze as James shoots the policeman in the face.
The policeman’s name is (was) Lou, the students know, and he is (was) genial and well-liked. A silent second passes in the lobby, and then the screaming begins.
James dips down and pulls two spare clips out of Lou’s belt. He pockets them. When James looks up, he doesn’t see fleeing students.
He sees Dr. L.
A gaggle of Dr. L’s. A school, a clutch, a murder. He sees laughing Dr. L’s running in every direction, diving behind furniture, breaking for the street or hurtling into the stairwells. One Dr. L dives behind the reception desk. James starts after him on wooden legs.
When he reaches the desk, there is Dr. L beneath it, a cell phone in his hand, cackling. James shoots him in the stomach. Dr. L keeps right on laughing, howling with it now, whatever it is must be hilarious, a real knee-slapper, then James remembers its him, Dr. L is laughing at him so James shoots him again, shoots him so he’ll stop but there are so many more—
#
Lyle Hereford, Ph.D., rested his browning forearms on the wrought iron railing of his third-floor balcony. He looked out over the Gulf of Mexico. The breeze was warm and gentle, suffusing, but it no longer calmed him. He took no notice of it. He was lost, as he was always now lost, in thought.
The one, lone thought.
It had taken a little less than two weeks for James’s horrific shooting spree to drop out of the news. The demands for GUN CONTROL NOW (or, conversely, for guns in every classroom) receded and were shelved for the next go-round. Politicians took to the field and unfurled their heraldry for the usual pro-forma skirmishes. Then, mercifully, a Cabinet official fucked somebody he really shouldn’t have and the national discourse (such as it was) barreled off, like a dog chasing a ball that its owner had only pretended to throw. As to why a handsome, popular, well-adjusted student should suddenly snap and murder sixteen of his fellows? The theories ranged from medically reasonable (an inoperable tumor which could not be verified via autopsy, as James’s brains had been removed by the responding tactical unit); to the paranoiac (James had been the subject of a Manchurian Candidate-style CIA/NSA/Acronym-of-your-choice experiment gone horribly wrong); to the Occult (the Devil made him do it).
Lyle had enjoyed that last one.
What Lyle had not enjoyed was that some of the conspiracy theorists, and even some of the legitimate press, had mentioned him by name. He had disappeared, after all, on an auspicious and chaotic day, to manage a crisis no one could verify involving a family no one could find. It had not been difficult to remain ahead of any enterprising investigators, though. Not with the Words.
And there had been so many more Words. Words in French and Finnish and Russian and Spanish and Mandarin. Words that meant envy and silence and fear and blindness and, perhaps the most potent yet, a Word that meant stupid. Lyle had employed that one against a statie who pulled him over as he crossed the Louisiana line, coming through Vicksburg. The guy had been six-two, maybe two-twenty, with sharp, curious eyes sunk deep in his skull. Lyle hadn’t liked the way he had looked at him, so he used the Word. Now the statie—*Edmonds was his name, Trooper Edmonds—*was six-two, two-twenty of drooling simpleton, probably staring at a wall somewhere in the nearest brain injury ward and driving the resident neurologists absolutely bugshit.
By the time Lyle made it to a quiet, lazy town on the Cajun Riviera and decided to set a spell, he had traded in his Acura for a Beemer and was carrying close to a hundred and twelve thousand dollars in cash. He had also acquired a 9mm Ruger and a shotgun with a pistol grip (the dealer had called it a snake charmer just before Lyle killed him).
None of that matters now, though.
All that mattered was the Word. Which, he had come to realize, was the last Word.
Because the book was alive, of course, had always been alive, Lyle knew that. Hadn’t let himself come right out and say it, but he knew. It had slept, maybe, possibly, until he woke it, with his touch, with his blood, but if it slept, it woke up thirsty*.* The book was always ready with the next Word, the next thing he would need. The book was collaborating with him. It was dancing with him, and at first he had thought he was the one leading, but now he knew better.
Lyle felt it. Felt it—pulling on him. All the time. Felt it in the room behind him, pulling, knew that he would go back in, sooner or later, go back in, and open the book, the book that has been leading him. Knew that he would open its hundreds of pages, because it was longer now, because it had grown, because it was three inches thick and the front plating had vanished and it wasn’t pretending to be a dictionary anymore.
He knew that he would open it and on every single page, centered, would be a single Word, the last Word, the Word that he will say, that he must say, sooner or later, and under it swirling in blood, blood that must be the book’s own, the final explication, the final command, the final meaning, and God, oh God, Lyle was afraid, because the last Word was
DOOR

Original prompt: [WP] Humanity has advanced to the point they live entirely online. You disconnect offline into a physical body for a government expedition. Report everything you’ve discovered about the offline world. (link)
I was halfway through a dragon-slaying quest with my guild when the message arrived. Apparently I'd been selected to take part in an "expedition", and if I didn't log out of Wyn-Life's Open World Life Simulator (Wyn-Owls for short), then I'd be ejected by force. My guild was supportive, as always, but none of them hid the fact that they had no idea what it meant.
About a day later, I discovered I'd been added to a messaging group with the other expedition members. Looking around the existing messages, the feelings among the group seemed mixed. Some, who had grown up hearing family members' stories of The Time Before were excited to see the world outside. Others were skeptical, thinking of the physical world as being just like Wyn-Owls, except they couldn't hack the system to fly or turn the world pink.
Personally, I was among the skeptics. I'd seen the physical world, but only during the recommended physical exercise periods. What I'd seen wasn't anything special, a chamber with solid gray walls I couldn't punch through, a few glowing LEDs, a few pieces of furniture for dealing with bodily functions while outside our life-support modules... Spending a matter of weeks out there just seemed like a miserable chore. Still, Wyn-Life had given the order, and they controlled both Wyn-Owls and the life support modules, so we didn't have much choice in the matter.
My preparations for the expedition were... Well, nonexistent, frankly. They could force me out of the OWLS, but they couldn't make me leave the bunker, so I didn't plan to. After a few days, they'd have to let us back in, so I planned to just sit around eating microbe chips and waiting to be allowed back online.
When the day finally came, I had been in the middle of figuring out the alchemy system, attempting to create a potion that would allow me to breathe underwater. It was slightly jarring to go from carefully measuring out colorful chemicals to coughing up faux-amniotic fluid on the concrete floor of my bunker, but I quickly pulled myself together and settled in to wait it out.
Well, I tried to. After about ten minutes of stretching and milling around my bedroom (accompanied by the usual cacophony of my joints cracking and popping after days of disuse), the lights shut off and a small rectangle lit up. Some kind of handheld communication device had been created in my 3D printer while I was still in Wyn-Owls, and was now blinking in a desperate gambit to draw my attention. I took a look at it, and wasn't particularly impressed. It was far less convenient than the communication windows in the OWLS, but I would have to accept the inconvenience since the physical world apparently wasn't sophisticated enough to have communication windows.
The communicators defaulted to a group chat with the other expedition members, who seemed to be in a similar state. Even the ones who had been excited before were terrified. We didn't even have light switches, so the lights going out all at once seemed like a borderline apocalyptic scenario. As we were speculating about what they were going to ask us to do, the LEDs near the floor began blinking in sequence, directing me toward the door.
I considered sticking with my plan of sitting around, but decided against it. Doing so in the dark wasn't what I'd had in mind, and who knew what else Wyn-Life would pull to make us do their bidding? Instead, I quickly got dressed in the drab clothes of the physical world and stepped out of my room for the first time in over a year.
My parents' bedroom was active, with the lights visible behind the door, but locked as usual. Grandparents, same story. Siblings, surprise surprise, also locked. Honestly, I wasn't entirely sure all of them were still alive (or any of them for that matter), but they still answered my messages within a few days of them being sent, so I assumed they were. Sure, there were rumors that Wyn-Life could maintain a person's consciousness inside Wyn-Owls even if their physical body died, but I'd assumed they were wrong. After all, Wyn-Owls basically was the world these days, so why would they bother having us leave to do physicals and such if we didn't need our bodies? I quickly realized I had gotten distracted, and returned to my path.
The lights led me out of my family dormitory, and past the doors of our neighbors. I had met many of them in passing, but I was only 14. It wasn't expected that we'd get married until the Pairing Day of our 25th year, so I had plenty of time to decide which of the girls in the community I disliked the least.
As I continued to follow the lights, I passed the common room where community gatherings were held back in the Dark Times, before Wyn-Owls was properly set up. Nowadays it was basically obsolete, OWLS made gatherings easier and much more interesting, but the automated maintenance systems still kept the room in good condition just in case.
Finally, I reached what looked like a destination. It wasn't a gate to the outside, but one of the old armories. Not to say that it was just a stockpile of ancient weapons, though it did have a fair few of those, it also contained its own more sophisticated 3D printers with access to weapon schematics. As I entered, two items had just been finished, hot off the printers. One was a Holo-Rifle, identical to the standard guns used in Wyn-Owls for marksmanship and hunting. I had little doubt that was intentional, though I wasn't sure whether they'd modeled the guns in the simulation after the real thing, or built the real thing based off how their virtual guns worked. I had never been a big fan of them personally, they were pretty bulky and the light beams they fired didn't have as much impact as I would've preferred, but if Wyn-Life thought I might need it then I'd take it with me.
The other item was an Omnitool. The handle was easy to keep a grip on, which was good given that the liquid metal that formed the actual operative instrument was still shifting around like crazy. It formed a blade, a weighted hammer, a segmented whip, a crook and a surprisingly long baton before retreating into the handle. I was more familiar with this tool, it was a lot of fun to play around with, and you could pull off some crazy stunts in the tournament arena if you used it well, but for the expedition I had to assume they intended it to be a multitool and not a wacky weapon. I carefully stowed the tool in my pocket as the lights dimmed again, and the LEDs on the floor began guiding me to a new destination.
I passed the old cafeteria, where food used to be served regularly before the nutrient synthesizers were installed in our rooms. They still saw some use during events, and the hydroponically-grown food was always a nice treat compared to flavorless paste the synthesizers usually produced, but I did not miss the lines we had to wait in.
Finally, it seemed I'd reached a door I'd never seen the other side of. The Big Door, which led to parts unknown. I'd wondered when I was younger what was on the other side, but had since lost interest. Now, though, it opened, and behind it was... a stairway. There was also an elevator, but the lights weren't directing me to it and the buttons didn't respond when I pressed them, so I assumed it hadn't been maintained properly and began climbing the stairs.
The staircase was enormous, and as I climbed I passed other doors that I could only assume led to other Wyn-Life community bunkers. Door after door, I climbed what must have been dozens of flights worth of stairs until I reached an even bigger door. After a few seconds, a klaxon sounded while a spinning red light filled the room and the door began to open. Behind it was an airlock, and I stepped inside, the door to the bunker sealing behind me before the door on the other side opened. We'd all been taught about The War, so I'd almost expected a burnt-out hellscape to be waiting beyond the door, but as the outside came into view, it quickly became apparent that that wasn't the case.
The light was absolutely blinding. I had always wondered why the comfortable level of illumination was only 5% of what the settings allowed, but seeing how bright the outside was, it made a bit more sense. After all, the basic design for the bunker had almost certainly been made back when people were still living out here, so this must have been the standard for the original designers. The air also seemed strangely... rich? It was moist, and felt a bit thick, but also significantly more pleasant to breathe than the air from the corridors I'd just left. As strange as it may sound, it almost felt like it was the first time I'd gotten to properly use my lungs.
As my eyes adjusted, I noticed just how strange everything looked. Even the most exotic servers and alien worlds generally had a familiar feel, sort of like recolors or alterations of objects from other places in the Wyn-Owls. Even just looking at the plant life from the entryway of the bunker, it seemed... off.
The first thing I noticed were the trees. Evergreens so tall that they seemed to touch the clouds, with no low-hanging branches that would allow anyone to climb them. I was already missing the ability to fly, it would've made examining the treetops much easier. Closer to the ground there were ferns, vines covered in thorns, and... A plant with fur on its leaves? It seemed the outside was a bit too strange to rely on just a written report, I desperately needed to take some screenshots to accompany it. Nobody would believe me if I just told them about this stuff!
I almost immediately realized that the physical world didn't support screenshots, much to my chagrin. Since my communicator gave me access to the messaging system, I wondered if I could use it to get around this limitation as well.
After touching it in a few places and a few ways, I found a way to open a menu offering different functions. I flicked through the various options, and stopped on photography. The device was a bit finicky, so it took me a few tries to get a good shot, but I did manage to get some clear pictures. I quickly began drafting a report, as I took my first step onto the ground outside. The ground sank in a little under my foot, nearly causing me to fall over. The soft ground only added to the alien feel of the outside, as if I was walking on the skin of some giant animal instead of nice, solid tile flooring.
Still, it wasn't altogether unpleasant, and I bandied around the idea of taking off my shoes to feel the soft ground with my feet before noticing all the debris that would probably have impaled my feet if I did. As I submitted my first report, I was already considering what direction to explore first. No HUD icons, no quest markers, no actual objectives aside from "look around and report what you find", and no advice to be had apart from that of other idiots who were in the exact same situation. It was terrifying, and also somewhat exhilarating, but it seemed that I would need to carve my own path for the foreseeable future.

They called it Poronomâva, the land of bloodstone. They said it was the place where the blood of their ancestors flowed out, leaving their souls light enough to join the spirits. The earthly essences that left their bodies filtered into the ground and marked it forever, creating Poronôma, jasper.
Once upon a time, long before that land had been known as the land of Poronôma, it was known as Sadâva, land of the spirits. The gods had seen fit to make it their resting place – or, at least, that is one of the many stories that are told by wisewomen or singing men.
According to them, the first union of Moon Father and Mother Rôdo happened in a great, ancestral lake: as the Mother Rôdo grew heavy with the spirit of her children, Moon Father built an island in the middle of the ancestral lake, so that their offspring would have a home away from the cold waters. In that land, the spirits grew and thrived; when they came into their own, however, they used their magic to create three bridges: a greenstone bridge pushing north, a silver bridge pushing south and a bridge of brass pushing to the east. Thus, the ancestral lake was divided into three, and the island of the spirits became a part of the world.
Untold years passed.
They say the ancestors, the very first ones, buried their most worthy men and women in Poronomâva. They would not burn their bodies as the Arhada later did, but they would cover them in reeds and leaves, then pebbles and earth and then let the grass grow above them. A great persimmon tree witnessed all those deaths, all the ancestral blood penetrating the land, making the stones red, all all the souls leaving the Poronomâva.
No man of the Arhada ever saw that, and the tradition was lost, the land abandoned to itself. The lakeshores were easier to live in, warmer in the winters, cooler in the summers. Fish were plentiful and rôdo abundant. And so that sacred place could once again experience that divine rest it offered when the Mother and Father divine set it as the childhood home for their offspring.
Centuries passed.
A persimmon tree, the same tree that may have seen the ancestors as they performed their ancient rites, stood in the centre of a circle of stumps. The land was being cleared by a group of men as their bovines grazed on soft, fragrant grasses. They had returned.
It was an old, sturdy tree, older perhaps than any other tree in that forest: the men were leaving him last, knowing they would find a treasure within it: Black, dense wood – ebony – enough to make prised objects to fill five treasuries. The tree was gone, along with all the others who had stood on that hill for such a long time. More would be planted.
A year passed.
A fence, wooden poles and cattail stalk, was being set around the perimeter where the old mother wanted the new grove to be built. Young boys were making sure that their cattle was taken out of that square, unable to enter it as the saplings grew. A square of twenty-four trees per side: that would give many thousands of pecans in a good year. In the centre, a shrine. As the grove grew around it, the men would leave an offer to the spirits of the grove, to ensure it grew properly: a buffalo horn, a small piece of copper, shining like the sun in a very cold year, a wooden pipe to thank them of their hospitality. The grove would thank them in return, when the time came.
Ten Years Passed.
The axes swung against the fence, shattering it, as younger men gathered the pieces to dry them and and burn them. The trees had grown, and harvests were fruitful enough to allow the cattle back in. As soon as they found an entry into the perimeter of the grove, they made their way in, encouraged by their pastor. Oxen and cows happily went to ruminate the grasses and wild flowers that had grown high inside the fence. The man and the matriarch who had ordained that work were there, looking on as the men opened that plot of land. They walked in, following the cattle, to the central shrine.
The small wooden house had been emptied of all the gifts accumulated throughout the years, gifts the matriarch would take back to her treasury.
The man looked at his lady. "Shall I?" She nodded.
His axe swung against the walls of the shrine. The spirits had gifted that land and the grove of Poronomâva was now theirs.
________
Background – As pecans, fruit wines and preserved fruits grow as a lucrative item of trade in the lakes, the Arhada push themselves forward along the Isthmus, reclaiming the underpopulated lands between them and the Zonowodjon people. Increased populations and higher levels of inequality in the North pressure people to move south and newer, smaller villages sprout up below the hills as paddy agriculture expands in its snakelike pattern along the lakeshore. In the hilly interior, however, groves grow more developed and rich, as the locals begin to experiment with the domestication and grafting of new fruit trees.

The existence of retroflex C’s in Skt. is sometimes said to be from contact with Dravidian. There is evidence that Skt. *l was actually *ḷ since it caused a following dental to become retro. (Skt. huḍa- ‘ram’, Dk. hʌldin ‘male goat’, ON *galtuz > göltr ‘boar’) and is often still pronounced different than plain l in Dardic (Skt. mūla-m, Kh. mùḷ ‘root’). Also, the Dravidian change l \ ḍ (*maŋyulxa ‘peacock’ > Tulu mayil, Kui melu \ meḍu) seems to exist in Indic and Dardic.
​
Ex. of l > l(.) ( > d(.) ( > ṛ ) )
G. kolumbís / kólumbos ‘diver (bird) / grebe?’, *kolumbo- > Skt. kalamba- \ kaḍamba- \ kadamba-, Khowar koḷù ‘chukor partridge’
Skt. dhūli- ‘dust/powder’, A. dúṛi A; Kv. âsá duř, L. fūlīgō ‘soot’, Li. dúlis ‘mist’, Ps. *lǝla > laṛa ‘mist/fog’
Skt. mimeti ‘roar / bellow / bleat’, meḍí- \ meḷí- ‘crackling/roaring’
Skt. vyāla- ‘mischievous / wicked / vicious (elephant) / beast of prey / lion / tiger / hunting leopard / snake / prince/king’, vyāḍa- ‘rogue/jackal’ (among most of the meanings of vyāla-)
​
That the geographical range includes Ps. would show a widespread area of Dravidian speakers, if true. It is also possible that retroflex C’s existed in Proto-Indo-Iranian before any speakers were influeced by Dravidian. Skt. has dental vs. Dardic retroflex in many words (Skt. hárita- ‘yellow(ish)’, Sh. halí(ḍ)ẓo ‘yellow’, Dk. hʌlīẓa; Skt. jyótsnā- ‘moonlight’, Dk. ṭṣonṭṣ) which only make sense if old. Like kaḍamba- \ kadamba-, sometimes retro. > dental (Skt. márya- stallion’, Kh. madyán ‘mare’). It is possible this shows that Skt. having dental vs. Dardic retro. shows that Dardic often retained the older forms (if all dental C’s became retro. after RUKI in Proto-Indo-Iranian).
​
Even a devoiced outcome seems to exist in:
*sk^e(h)gWo-? > E. sheep, Skt. chā́ga- ‘goat’
*sk^e(h)gWalo-? > Skt. chagalá-, Ni. čüla ‘lamb’, Kh. čhàni ‘kid’
*sk^e(h)gWalih-? > Kh. kéeḷi ‘ewe’, A. čhéeli, KS ǰèéṭ \ gYèéṭ ‘jenny goat’
maybe also:
Skt. mūla-m, Kh. mùḷ ‘root’, A. múṭ ‘tree’
​
Since some of these words were claimed to be Dravidian, a careful examination of all data seems needed to understand the facts.
​
E English
G Greek
L Latin
Li Lithuanian
Ps Pashto
Skt Sanskrit
​
Gy Gypsy
Dv Domari \ Do:mva:ri:
Lv Lomavren
Rom Romani
​
Dardic Group
A Atshareetaá \ (older Palola < *Paaloolaá)
B Bangani
Ba bHaṭé-sa zíb \ Bhaṭeri
D Degaanó \ Degano
Dk Domaaki \ Domaá \ D.umaki
Dm Dameli
Gi Gultari
Id Indus Kohistani
Ka Kalam Kohistani \ Kalami \ Gawri \ Bashkarik
Kati
Kh Khowàr
Km Kashmiri
Ks Kalasha
KS Kundal Shahi
Kt ktívi kâtá vari
Kv Kâmvíri
Pl Paaluulaá
Pr Prasun
Ni Nišei-alâ
Np Nepali
Sa Saňu-vīri
Sh Shina
Ti Torwali
Wg Waigali \ Kalas.a-alâ

Hey-Oh! So, I see some form of this question multiple times per day in various skin and personal care subs: How do I deal with my hyperpigmentation? I also asked myself this question a few years ago. See, I'm prone to freckles and a little melasma and I set out to figure out a way to solve it with years of research, trial and error, testing, talking to dermatologists and professionals, and scouring every medical article I could get my hands on. I wanted to share my findings and research since this is a common concern, especially among people in their 30s. This started as a small post about my routine and ballooned into a massive book about hyperpigmentation. I hope it's helpful!
DISCLAIMERS:

• I use the term "brightening" instead of "lightening" which is a subtle distinction. None of the ingredients or methods I recommend bleach your skin as "lightening" would suggest, but they can reduce the appearance of hyperpigmentation. "Brightening" tends to be a confusing term in skincare, but for the purposes of this post, I use it as a descriptor for anything that helps prevent or reduce melanin in hyperpigmented skin.
• I will use the term "hyperpigmentation" ad nauseam as a catch-all term for excess pigmentation in the skin including freckles, melasma, PIH and dark spots. This does not encompass moles which are different. This is also different from redness, which is a whole other post.
• Speaking about hyperpigmentation requires some sensitivity to very real issues around it including cultural implications. This post is not intended to moralize hyperpigmentation nor is it intended to alienate the normal melaninization of skin across various tones. Hyperpigmentation refers to excess melanin production on the skin in the form of spots that are darker than the surrounding skin. It's not bad or wrong, nor does it speak to anyone not "doing a good enough job" of taking care of themselves.
• I do repeat myself a few times in here but that is for people who are skipping around the article. I want to be as thorough as possible even if you're jumping to the parts of the post you need.
• I do run an online dermatology practice and skin care consultancy, but in order to protect the integrity of my advice, I do not promote my business, I don't give direct medical advice, I don't link to any products/websites, and I don't have any products I've formulated myself to promote. This is going to get long because I wanted to cover everything re:hyperpigmentation. But for your reading pleasure and ease, I have divided this post up so you can get whatever information you need:

Table of Contents

1. Types of Hyperpigmentation
2. What Causes Hyperpigmentation?
3. How To Treat Hyperpigmentation Part 1: The Ingredients
4. How to Treat Hyperpigmentation Part 2: The Routine and Recommendations
5. Body Hyperpigmentation
6. Nuclear Options

Let's get to it!
Types of Hyperpigmentation
Hyperpigmentation refers to excess melanin production in the skin, but it can actually take a couple different forms. Knowing the type of hyperpigmentation you're experiencing is key to understanding if and how it can be treated.
Freckles: Freckles are incredibly common, especially for people with lighter skin tones. They are small, brown or reddish-brown dots often clustered on the skin. They develop on the surface and are not raised bumps. Freckles can appear anywhere on the body but are common on the face. Freckles are permanent, but the color, contrast and severity can vary and be tempered.
Melasma: Melasma appears as dark patches or splotches around the face, though usually found on the forehead, upper lip, and high on the cheeks. Melasma forms deeper in the skin and appears more amorphous than freckles, moles, or age spots. It can create a “muddy” appearance and is very common among pregnant and postpartum women due to hormonal factors. But it can literally happen to anyone and anywhere on the body.
Post-Inflammatory Hyperpigmentation (PIH): Post-inflammatory hyperpigmentation (PIH) occurs when damaged skin forms melanin during the healing process leaving dark spots. This is common after acne, injuries, eczema, burns, and other trauma to the skin. Exposure to UV rays during healing can make PIH worse. Post-inflammatory erythema (PIE) is similar, but leaves pink or red marks on the skin as a result of damage to the capillaries from injury or inflammation. Basically, when skin is compromised by injury, as part of the immune response cells will begin to generate melanin in an attempt to prevent further damage from UV exposure, so what will happen is the wound/legion/blemish will heal but the pigmented skin remains.
Age Spots: This is kind of a forgotten form of hyperpigmentation. Sun spots, also referred to as liver spots, and solar lentigines are large spots/patches of dark skin with distinct borders. They vary in color from light brown to almost black. They develop on the surface of the skin usually later in life, but reflect damage that often occurred from improper sun protection at a younger age. They can appear on the face, neck, chest, hands, and arms, usually on areas that had UV exposure. For many people, they can begin to appear in your 30s or 40s.

What Causes Hyperpigmentation?

There are a number of factors that can contribute to the formation of hyperpigmentation. Generally, it forms as the result of a combination of genetic and environmental influences. Everyone is unique, but these are some of the most common causes of hyperpigmentation and dark spots:
Genetics can play a role in the development of hyperpigmentation and dark spots in several ways:

• Melanin production: Melanin is the pigment that provides color to our skin, hair, and eyes. The amount of melanin produced and distributed in the skin is largely determined by genetics. People with a greater genetic predisposition to melanin production in their skin are more likely to experience hyperpigmentation and dark spots as a result of sun exposure, hormonal changes, and other factors. People with darker skin are also more prone to melanin production in the form of hyperpigmentation.
• Genetic anomalies: Certain genetic anomalies, such as oculocutaneous albinism, can affect melanin production and distribution in the skin, leading to an increased risk of hyperpigmentation and dark spots.
• Family history: If you have a family history of hyperpigmentation or dark spots, you may be more likely to develop these conditions yourself.
• Enzymes and genes: The enzymes that control melanin production and distribution are regulated by specific genes. Variations in these genes can impact melanin production, leading to an increased risk of hyperpigmentation and dark spots.

Sun (UV) Exposure. In addition to genetic determination of melanin production, UV exposure is the leading environmental cause of hyperpigmentation and the formation of dark spots. Melanin is the pigment that provides color to our skin, hair, and eyes. It acts as a natural sunscreen (but don't treat it like natural sunscreen!!! This isn't the point of the exercise), absorbing UV radiation to protect the skin from damage.
When the skin is exposed to UV radiation, the melanocytes (cells that produce melanin) in the skin go into overdrive, producing more melanin to protect the skin from further damage. This increased melanin production can result in dark spots or areas of hyperpigmentation on the skin.
Hormones. In addition to genetic determination of melanin production, hormones and hormonal sensitivity is a leading internal cause of hyperpigmentation and the formation of dark spots. One of the most well-known examples of hormonal hyperpigmentation is melasma, a condition characterized by dark, amorphous patches on the face, particularly on the cheeks, forehead, nose, and upper lip. Melasma is often associated with hormonal changes, such as those that occur during pregnancy, hormonal therapy, or birth control pill use. The hormonal changes can stimulate an increase in melanin production, resulting in dark spots or areas of hyperpigmentation. This can happen irrespective of UV exposure, though the sun does exacerbate it.
Hormones can also affect melanin production by altering the skin's metabolism and pigmentation pathways. For example, high levels of cortisol, a hormone produced by the adrenal glands during stress, can trigger an increase in melanin production, resulting in hyperpigmentation.
Inflammation, Injury & Trauma to the skin can result in hyperpigmentation by triggering an increase in melanin production. When the skin is inflamed or injured, it triggers a response from the body's immune system, which can stimulate an increase in melanin production as a protective measure. For example, acne breakouts or other skin injuries can result in post-inflammatory hyperpigmentation (PIH), which is characterized by dark spots or areas of discoloration on the skin. The dark spots are a result of an increase in melanin production in the affected area, which occurs in response to the inflammation or injury. In addition to acne and other skin injuries, other conditions that can result in PIH include eczema, psoriasis, and insect bites.
Medication Side Effects. Certain medications can cause hyperpigmentation on the skin. Medications that can cause hyperpigmentation include:

• Tetracycline antibiotics: Tetracycline antibiotics, such as doxycycline and minocycline, can cause discoloration of the skin and teeth when taken in high doses or for an extended period of time.
• Nonsteroidal anti-inflammatory drugs (NSAIDs): NSAIDs, such as ibuprofen and naproxen, can cause hyperpigmentation in some individuals, especially if taken in high doses or for an extended period of time.
• Chemotherapy drugs: Certain chemotherapy drugs, such as doxorubicin and daunorubicin, can cause hyperpigmentation, especially in areas of the skin that have been exposed to the sun.
• Hormonal medications: Hormonal medications, such as birth control pills and estrogen replacements, can cause hyperpigmentation in some individuals, especially if they are taken for an extended period of time.
• Antimalarial drugs: Antimalarial drugs, such as chloroquine and hydroxychloroquine, can cause hyperpigmentation in some individuals, especially if taken in high doses or for an extended period of time.
• Isotretinoin aka accutane when taken for acne can cause hyperpigmentation due to the increase of cell turnover and exposing delicate new skin cells to UV rays before they have shored up.

If using these medications is necessary for your livelihood, it is not recommended to stop their use without the recommendation of your doctor.

How To Treat Hyperpigmentation Part 1: The Ingredients

When looking for skin care products to treat and prevent hyperpigmentation and dark spots, it's important to look for ingredients that can help encourage cell turnover, curb melanin production, and block harmful UV rays. A lot of these things overlap with treatments for other conditions like acne and general anti-aging, but I've noted ones that specifically work on the mechanisms controlling melanin production. Now, this is an extensive list, but I know it doesn't have everything. I've included the ingredients that had the most compelling evidence and/or worked the best for me or people at my practice. But it's also not necessarily a shopping list. You don't have to have all of these things to treat hyperpigmentation, but I'll get to that in the routine portion. This is more to be used as a tool that can help you diversify your routine if you find one ingredient or another doesn't work for you. And it can help you determine if a product targets hyperpigmentation based on its ingredients. There's lot's of options. Some of the key ingredients to look for include:
Retinoids that increases cell turnover. Retinoids like tretinoin, adapalene, retinol et al, can help treat hyperpigmentation by promoting the turnover of skin cells and increasing cell growth, which can help fade dark spots and improve overall skin tone by replacing pigmented skin cells at the surface. While retinoids are extremely effective, they do have some caveats. First, they can be sensitizing to a lot of users, but this can be tempered by using different form functions, different application methods, or different concentrations. Second, because it's constantly turning over skin exposing delicate new skin cells to the elements, it can actually worsen hyperpigmentation if you're not vigilant about sun protection and avoidance. Tretinoin and other retinoids are firewalled behind a prescription in some countries and may be more difficult to obtain. But retinol/al is available in OTC forms.
SPF represents a class of many ingredients designed to protect the skin from UV rays and the damage that occurs from exposure. UV exposure is one of the biggest causes of fine hyperpigmentation and wrinkles so adequate protection is essential. I know I'm not winning any science awards for this declaration, but a lot of people who struggle with hyperpigmentation aren't adequately protecting themselves from the sun. But you also have to be kind of realistic. Even with perfect protection and avoidance, sometimes your hyperpigmentation will still flare. This happens during the summer for a lot of people and something even I grapple with. The key is to do your best and SPF actually works well with numerous other ingredients (like the ones listed below) to help solve that problem. Arbutin is a Tyrosinase Inhibitor that blocks melanin production.
Arbutin, or the synthesized version called alpha arbutin, is a favorite brightening ingredient because it's a slow-release derivative of hydroquinone that inhibits melanin production. This results in both healing and prevention of dark spots, especially when paired with topical acids. It metabolizes on the skin into hydroquinone which is super effective for hyperpigmentation while being a less controversial and hard-to-come-by ingredient than pure hydroquinone. More on hydroquinone in part 6.
Tranexamic acid is another Tyrosinase Inhibitor. This was first used in wound care and it was found to have profound effects on hyperpigmentation. Although it's an acid, it's not a chemical exfoliant, kinda like how hyaluronic acid is not a chemical exfoliant. The exact mechanism by which tranexamic acid works to reduce hyperpigmentation is not fully understood, but it is believed to work by reducing inflammation by blocking plasmin which contributes to melanin production when unchecked. It is particularly effective in treating melasma and one of my personal favorite ingredients.
Kojic Acid is another Tyrosinase Inhibitor. Kojic acid is a natural skin brightener that is derived from various fungi. Kojic acid can also help to exfoliate because it's a slight chemical exfoliant, which can remove dead skin cells that contribute to hyperpigmentation and improve overall appearance. But it does both things: block melanin production and turn skin cells over. Azelaic Acid has a lot of things going for it that can help with hyperpigmentation. It's an anti-inflammatory and antiseptic that disrupts melanin production.
Azelaic acid works by inhibiting the production of melanin in the skin like those other tyrosinase inhibitors. In addition, azelaic acid also has anti-inflammatory and antibacterial properties, which help to improve the overall health and appearance of the skin by reducing melanin production as a result of injury or inflammation. It's also an anti-acne ingredient that can address the root cause of PIH by reducing acne on the skin. It's pretty awesome and available in OTC and prescription strengths.
Niacinamide is another one that directly and indirectly addresses hyperpigmentation. It's a skin soother that decreases inflammation and it naturally reduces sebum production which can curb acne which can curb PIH. It actually took me a little while to figure out that this was another solid hyperpigmentation treatment for these reasons because I used to look at it as being more of an acne treatment. Niacinamide is a form of vitamin B3 that works by inhibiting the transfer of pigment within the skin, which can help to reduce the appearance of dark spots and uneven skin tone. So while it doesn't block tyrosinase, it prevents transfer of pigmented skin cells to the surface.
Vitamin C aka L-ascorbic acid is an antioxidant that fights free radical damage. It treats and prevents hyperpigmentation in three ways. First, it reduces free radical damage from UV exposure which helps increase the effectiveness of SPF when worn together. Second, it is also a tyrosinase inhibitor that blocks melanin production. And finally, vitamin C encourages skin cell turnover. The key is finding a nice stable version of it.
Glycolic and Lactic Acid. Since this list is getting long I am going to group these together. Glycolic Acid is a water-soluble alpha hydroxy acid that penetrates into the pores to treat pigmentation by providing general exfoliation and resurfacing of the skin. The result is improvements in dark spots, texture and other signs of aging. Lactic Acid is also an AHA but with a slightly larger molecular size than glycolic acid so it doesn't penetrate as deep and acts more as a surface exfoliant. As a result it provides more gentle exfoliation to buff away surface pigmentation with an added benefit of acting as a humectant to seal moisture into the skin. Licorice Extract is a plant extract that inhibits melanin production.
Licorice root extract contains a compound called glabridin, which has been shown to have skin brightening effects as, you guessed it, a tyrosinase inhibitor. In addition, licorice root extract also has anti-inflammatory properties, which can help to reduce redness and inflammation associated with hyperpigmentation. I'm seeing more and more of this pop up in skin care.
Soy Proteins are another plant extract that inhibits melanin production. They contain compounds known as isoflavones, which have been shown to help reduce the amount of melanin produced by melanocytes in the skin. Additionally, soy proteins have antioxidant properties that can help to protect the skin from damage caused by free radicals, which can contribute to hyperpigmentation.

How To Treat Hyperpigmentation Part 2: The Routine and Recommendations

This is adapted from numerous comments, posts and DMs I've written on the topic and also comprises a large portion of my own personal routine and routines we recommend to patients. This is a generalist routine meaning it targets all the forms of hyperpigmentation I've mentioned; freckles, melasma, PIH, and age spots though it can be tweaked to address these individually more specifically. This is really my jumping off point for people to get a good idea of what they can achieve as a baseline with OTC ingredients before fine tuning or enlisting the help of a dermatologist. For a lot of people, this is enough to fully resolve, but even if it gets you part of the way there, this should give you a good idea of reactivity. A few caveats:

• Freckles cannot ever be 100% eradicated. You can however reduce their appearance and prevent them from getting darker. It's important to have realistic goals and understand that sometimes our genetics will overrule any routine we have.
• This routine and any hyperpigmentation routine will not address moles. Moles are a totally different thing that can only be eradicated through removal by a medical practitioner. Moles can be raised or not, but no amount of topicals will get rid of them.
• Melasma is a beast. Sometimes it can be treated with OTC topicals, sometimes it requires prescription strength topicals like hydroquinone, sometimes you need in-office procedures like fractal lasers or IPL. Again, this routine is a jumping off point to see what you can accomplish at home before going down that road.
• You'll notice I don't mention products with all the ingredients I listed above. This is because the more you put on your face, the greater your risk of causing irritation. Again, you can adjust and tweak by switching out products with these ingredients or add/subtract as it suits your personal needs.
• If you're struggling with hyperpigmentation while pregnant or breastfeeding, these recommendations may need to be paused.

Alright, let's get to it!
AM routine -- The Goal: Heal, Protect, and Prevent. In order of application following a lukewarm water rinse:

• Azelaic acid
• Alpha Arbutin
• Vitamin C serum
• Moisturizer
• SPF

The combo of C+AZ+AA+SPF is an absolute powerhouse for healing existing hyperpigmentation and preventing new hyperpigmentation from forming. It makes your SPF more effective, it inhibits the production of melanin from UV exposure (not your natural melanin production though), and it speeds cell turnover with dual antioxidant action and gentle chemical exfoliation. The result is brighter skin in a few months of consistent use.
For Azelaic Acid, this is the ingredient for serious treatment. It's considered one of the most effective ways to reverse melasma aka serious hyperpigmentation short of hydroquinone -- which is both controversial and hard to get. It brings a little bit of exfoliation to the table in addition to inhibiting UV melanin production, but it also has a slight antiseptic property which can help with acne. Paula's choice Azelaic Acid Booster is the only one I've really tried after sampling the Ordinary's in-store and not liking the texture. I get about 6 months out of a tube and a little bit goes a long way.
For Alpha Arbutin, the Ordinary's formulation is pretty solid. I prefer the Ordinary's AA 2% + HA as opposed to their AA 2% + Ascorbic Acid 8% as I don't believe the quality and stability of their Ascorbic Acid (Vitamin C) is great. That's why I opt for a separate Vitamin C serum step. But the AA + HA also has a little bit of lactic acid in it which provides some gentle exfoliation and encourages AA deeper into the skin where it's more effective. Lactic acid is mild enough that it's safe for use in a morning routine, but you still want to protect with SPF. There are a couple AA products floating around but I think TO's product is probably the best, most straightforward one. Alpha Arbutin metabolizes into hydroquinone on the skin so is basically one of the best OTC pigment correctors you can get.
For Vitamin C, the gold standard really is Skinceuticals CE Ferulic. This is stupid expensive though so I’m going to suggest Timeless Vitamin C. I like that it comes in an airless pump that prevents oxidation over time. Vitamin C is an antioxidant that increases the rate of skin cell turnover bringing forward new, skin cells while simultaneously improving the effects of SPF. It's a great foundation for a fix.
These ingredients can be layered on one right after the other then topped with your moisturizer (I like a basic one like cetaphil daily lotion), then topped with your SPF. The SPF I would recommend is Canmake UV mermaid gel in clear as this will not leave a white cast on your skin and it’s generally a very elegant SPF. It's SPF 50 which means it gives really good protection, but there are numerous SPFs you can try. I personally like anything from La Roche Posay, any Neutrogena SPF that's not formulated with ethylhexylglycerin, Supergoop Unseen Sunscreen, Biore Aqua Rich (another Japanese brand), Trader Joe's SPF if you can get your hands on it, and EltaMD.
Of all the products I’ve tried that could act as a stand-in for vitamin c, azelaic acid, and alpha arbutin, there’s one Japanese serum from Hada Labo called “whitening lotion” which has had the biggest impact on my hyperpigmentation in a single product of anything I’ve tried. This might be a little too effective though, I actually find that it washed me out within the first 2 weeks of twice daily use, so now I only use it in the morning. And I’m not a fan of the translation… which is a direct but mistranslation. It’s not a bleaching lotion, it also relies on a form of vitamin C and tranexamic acid to brighten skin. But it's a really interesting to try if you wanted a simplified morning routine in which case I would apply this, then your moisturizer, then your SPF.
PM routine -- The Goal: Renew and Reveal. In order of application:

• Cleanse
• Buffer
• Tranexamic acid and exfoliant OR retinoid**
• Moisturize

To cleanse, I have a really basic recommendation that will remove your SPF, makeup, and any grime/sebum from your day. Start with Cetaphil gentle cleanser. This is a gentle, hydrating cleanser that will break up your SPF really effectively. Massage in and rinse. Then apply a foaming cleanser, I recommend Cetaphil daily cleanser which foams. This will sweep away anything that’s left and give you a good foundation for the rest of your routine. While this doesn't directly help hyperpigmentation specifically, it's a critical step especially for people who are acne>PIH prone. It also gives you a nice clean slate to apply the rest of your skincare. I've tried dozens of cleansers but always come back to these two as good basic options.
For your Buffer this is an important step that can be done prior to using a chemical exfoliant or retinoid: applying an occlusive that will block the active from more sensitive skin. I recommend buffering around your eyes and nostrils with La Roche Posay Cicaplast balm because it kind of doubles as a nice eye cream, but this can also be done with basic vaseline or aquaphor for a more budget-friendly option.
For Tranexamic Acid, my holy grail TXA product, La Roche Posay Glycolic B5 is actually a multipurpose serum that combines ingredients to treat hyperpigmentation with chemical exfoliants. It contains two hyperpigmentation heavy hitters -- Tranexamic acid and Kojic Acid which are great for melasma -- and two exfoliants -- Glycolic Acid and Lipo-Hydroxy Acid (LHA) which is like fancy salicylic acid -- so it both reveals new skin cells that are less prone to pigmenting from UV exposure while sloughing away your old skin cells. You can use this 2 or 3 nights per week. On off nights, just cleanse and moisturize.
For a Retinoid if you can get prescription tretinoin, this is going to be the best bet. Your doctor will advise you on the concentration. More on that in part 6. It will help speed up the rate of cell turnover bringing new, unpigmented skin cells to the surface faster. Some other OTC options include differin (which is rated more for acne but uses the same mechanism for cell turnover so it's also effective in this use case) and retinols. Now, I haven't tried every retinol on the market but I have two that I stand by: SkinCeuticals retinol and L'Oreal retinol serum. The SkinCeuticals is, in my opinion, the closest to RX tretinoin in terms of efficacy, but it's a little pricey. The L'Oreal also does a really good job and is a little more affordable. It's currently my go-to OTC on the days I'm not using my RX retinoid tazarotene. You can use this 2 or 3 nights per week. On off nights, just cleanse and moisturize.
** My recommendations for tranexamic acid and retinoids CANNOT be used in the same night. You'll nuke your skin. And for most people, both aren't necessary, you can get away with using one or the other. If I had a preference, I would say use the TXA serum instead of a retinoid, but if you can build up a tolerance to using them both without damaging your barrier, they work really well together. So, proceed with caution. If you want to use both, use them on alternate nights and give yourself a night or two without either to let your skin recover. For me personally, I do retinoids on Sundays, and Wednesdays, chemical exfoliants on Mondays and Thursdays, and I let my skin rest (cleanse, moisturize, squalene oil) on Tuesdays, Fridays, and Saturdays.
On top of whichever active you choose, apply your moisturizer. You can use the same one you use in your morning routine, the Cetaphil daily lotion as it’s nice and light. I also like La Roche Posay Toleraine double repair for a ceramide-based cream alternative if you want something richer.
You do not want to "slug" over actives. This advice gets mixed in a lot. Slugging refers to applying an occlusive layer over your skincare such as vaseline, aquaphor, oils like squalene oil, or healing balms like La Roche Posay Cicaplast balm. While this can be done on hydration nights, it should not be done on nights when you're using chemical exfoliants or retinoids as this may make them too effective causing irritation and breakouts.

Body Hyperpigmentation

Ok, I need everyone to be a grownup for two seconds. These products and methods (both from the prior section and this section) should NOT be used on your genitals. First, you can cause serious irritation or infection by applying active skincare to your genitals. Second, it's really not going to do anything to change the pigmentation of the skin there. The skin on your genitals is different than your body and facial skin and it pigments in different ways for different reasons so it's not going to respond to topicals the same way the rest of your body does. Don't even try it.
To be perfectly clear, these are the areas you should not be applying skincare: labia majora, labia minora, vaginal entrance or vagina, clitoral hood, perineum, anus, intergluteal cleft aka inside your butt crack, penis, or scrotum. And I say this as someone who chaffed the precipice of her "intergluteal cleft" in an unfortunate crunches-in-the-wrong-gym-shorts accident leaving me with some deeply incriminating hyperpigmentation and earning me the nickname "skid mark" from my ever loving boyfriend. It faded after a year but you can still send prayers.
These are areas you can apply skincare but do so with absolute caution and at your own risk: bikini line, mons pubis, inner thigh up to the groin fold, butt cheeks. Ok, now that we've got the disclaimers out of the way, let's move forward.
Hyperpigmentation can also occur on body skin for the same reason it appears on the face, but it can also be triggered by friction. And because body skin is different from facial skin, it requires a slightly different approach. This is my recommendation for both hyperpigmentation and KP (Keratosis pilaris) because they rely on the same mechanism for treatment: chemical exfoliation.
In the case of body hyperpigmentation, I recommend a two prong approach: a body wash in the shower and a topical treatment to be used after. Oh, and SPF again if there are areas that are exposed to the sun, and I have a holy grail SPF recommendation for this.
Now you may have noticed in my facial skin recommendation that I did not mention CeraVe as a treatment brand. I have posted numerous takedowns of CeraVe on other threads so I won't rehash them here suffice it to say that it's no longer a brand I can in good faith recommend since it's acquisition by L'Oreal. This is often the brand that's considered when treating KP on the body, but I don't believe their formulations and ingredient quality works for everyone.
For the body wash, I recommend Neutrogena body clear with Salicylic acid. This is an exfoliating body wash that will help clear away dead skin cells on the surface allowing new ones to come through. To be effective, you want it to sit on your skin for a little while. I recommend lathering it up and applying it after turning off your shower faucet and letting it sit for 2 or 3 minutes. This is when I like to knock out shower emails. Then rinse away.
On towel dried skin after your shower, apply AmLactin Bumps Be Gone. Again, this is formulated for KP but the reason I like it is because it contains lactic acid which will also give the assist on brightening hyperpigmented body skin. The wash and this should be effective, but you might also want to mix in a few drops of the alpha arbutin serum I recommended for your facial routine, maybe three drops per application area (each leg, each arm, chest, etc). I generally don't encourage facial products on the body because it's not an economical use for them, and also because body skin is a little more resilient and doesn't need skincare that's formulated for more sensitive facial skin. The AA serum from the Ordinary is very affordable however and is a good hyperpigmentation generalist.
Another one that I mentioned in the facial hyperpigmentation portion that can work well on the body is the Hada Labo whitening lotion. Again, this is formulated around tranexamic acid which is very effective for hyperpigmentation and a little bit if this stuff goes a long way. I buy it in bulk from Japanese Importers though it's also available on Amazon for a slightly higher price. If you find yourself in Asia, stock up on it. I use this specifically for fading tan lines that happen (even with diligent/neurotic SPF use) around my fitness watch and the straps of my workout tops that I run in.
You also want to wear SPF on areas that are exposed to the sun to prevent pigmentation from occurring. The one I absolutely love that’s not your 90’s banana boat is Aveeno Protect + Hydrate lotion with SPF 60. This is a great SPF for a lot of reasons: it finishes like a lotion instead of a sunscreen, it dries down totally clear, and it has a pleasant, slight sweet scent. On a scale of 1-10 with 1 being bare skin, 10 being banana boat slathered on by your mom in 1997, and regular body lotion being a 2, I give Aveeno Protect + Hydrate a 2.5 in terms of texture and feel-finish. I use it as my daily lotion on my neck, arms, shoulders, and chest. If you're more active you might need a heavier hitter here like a sport sunscreen.

Nuclear Options

In general, I recommend trying OTC topical solutions for any skin concern before heading down the in-office procedure route. Part of this is because you can usually put a good dent in what you're struggling with by using OTC topicals, making in-office procedures and RX treatments easier and more effective. Part of it is so you have a good maintenance routine in place to use after the fact to preserve the results of your in-office procedure which can sometimes be costly. Lastly, while some procedures can solve the immediate problem completely, topical skincare can be really effective at treating other adjacent conditions like redness, acne, and fine lines.
Side note: I haven't listed every possible compounded medication because there are a lot, and many compounded meds are formulated to tackle multiple issues like acne and hyperpigmentation. I also tend to favor single note skin care (aka, products with very few ingredients) as this allows you to combine or remove certain actives and gives you a better sense of reactivity.
For tougher-to-treat hyperpigmentation such as melasma, if your topical routine doesn't totally clear the problem in 6 to 8 months, a visit to the dermatologist might be helpful. Here are the heavier-hitting procedures and topicals that can go the extra mile after you've exhausted other options.
Medical Grade Peels: Medical grade chemical peels can be done by dermatologists. Trichloroacetic acid (TCA) or phenol peels may be done for cases of severe hyperpigmentation, but high concentration BHA or AHA peels are also commonly used. I do these twice a year. Because of the strength of the acids used, these must be done by a medical professional with careful followup.
***IPL Therapy and Laser Therapy may not work for everyone and in some cases may exacerbate hyperpigmentation so you really want to work with dermatologists with a lot of experience in treating cases similar to yours to determine if these interventions are appropriate for you.
IPL Treatment: Intense Pulsed Light (IPL) therapy can treat hyperpigmentation by targeting the melanin in the skin with a broad spectrum of light wavelengths, heating and breaking the melanin down. IPL is particularly effective for treating sun damage and age spots, as well as other forms of hyperpigmentation. The treatment is relatively non-invasive, with minimal downtime, making it a popular option. This is also a great treatment for the redness associated with enlarged blood vessels (often confused for broken capillaries) on the surface of the skin which can also appear alongside hyperpigmentation. There isn't any clinical evidence to support at-home IPL devices being effective in the same way. That doesn't mean it's not possible, it's just not studied enough to be certain. Most at-home IPL devices do not operate in effective wavelengths the way professional grade ones do.
Laser Therapy: Fractional and CO2 lasers can be used to treat a range of hyperpigmentation issues, including sun damage, age spots, and melasma. The treatment works by removing the top layers of skin, which contain the excess pigmentation, revealing fresh, healthy skin cells underneath. The lasers also stimulate the production of collagen, which helps to improve skin texture and reduce the appearance of fine lines and wrinkles.
Hydroquinone: This isn't an in-office procedure like the aforementioned treatments, but it is firewalled behind a prescription meaning you can only access hydroquinone in effective concentrations by working with a doctor. This is a somewhat new development at least in the US following some covid-era rejiggering of prescription clearances. HDQ is controversial because it's a skin bleaching agent which has some cultural implications in places where light skin is favored over natural pigmentation. HDQ technically works the same way other OTC tyrosinase inhibitors do (in fact arbutin actually metabolizes into HDQ when applied to the skin), pure HDQ happens to be the most powerful version of them. It lightens any skin it touches, not just hyperpigmented skin in higher concentrations which can make it tough to use. This effect isn't as profound in the other tyrosinase inhibitors I mentioned making them much easier to use over HDQ which, in high concentrations, must be dotted on the skin in only hyperpigmented areas. So HDQ is really reserved for intervention in extreme or OTC treatment-resistance cases.
Tretinoin and Prescription Retinoids: This is going to be dependent on what part of the world you're in, but in a lot of countries, tretinoin and its counterparts like tazarotene are only available through prescription. I mentioned retinoids in the routine so if you're able to get your hands on a prescription from a doctor, it may be more effective than OTC retinols. Most doctors will prescribe a retinoid over hydroquinone, so this is usually easier to procure and can be quite effective on its own as a hyperpigmentation treatment. OTC differin is the only retinoid available over-the-counter (in the US) which can also be used for hyperpigmentation.
Prescription Azelaic Acid: This is another one that's available in lower concentrations over-the-counter (which can still be quite effective) but there are prescription strength grades of azelaic acid. This is usually reserved for rosacea treatment as it tends to target redness and flushing, or as an acne treatment because of its antiseptic properties, but it can also be an effective hyperpigmentation treatment for its tyrosinase-inhibiting ability.
If you made it this far, congratulations! I hope this information is helpful. While it is extensive and based on massive amount of research, experience, experimentation and work with professionals, it may not be perfect and it may not be suitable for everyone. Feel free to offer any constructive criticism or ask any questions in comments. I am always open to expanding my understanding.

I'll start first.
Bjorn White-mane was born in the 4th era year 140 in Bruma and lived his life as a guard of the city until the great war started. He married his childhood friend at the age of 21 and together they had a daughter named Freja.
When the great war started he was called to fight against the Thalmor and as soon as he received the letter from the Emperor he kissed his wife and daughter and left for the Imperial City. He was a great soldier and brought death to many Elves during the war, but as many Nords he was deluded by the Empire when they signed the treaty and banned the worship of Talos.
When he came back home, tired and ready to spend some time with his family, he found the heads of his wife and daughter on a spike. He felt to his knees. The men he once called friends, the city guard of Bruma, came to him took his amulet of Talos while he was mourning his family and arrested him. He waited for his execution, but it never came; the Thalmor, knowing his role in the great war, wanted to keep him alive so that he could suffer for everything he has done. Bjorn spent 30 years in jail, being tortured and mocked by the Thalmor, when one day he managed to stun his torturer and escape that damn jail.
He left for Skyrim, knowing from jail rumors, that the Empire was loosing his grip on that region and hoped to find peace.
[STARTING EVENTS OF SKYRIM]
He was captured in the ambush and found himself on the cart with Ulfric Stormcloak, a man he knew from what he heard during the Great War. He escaped Helgen with Ralof, and followed his advice to go to Windhelm. Once he arrived he wasn't ready to go back and being a soldier, so he lived of hunting for a while and helped the people of Windhelm as best as he could. But deep inside, his hatred for the Empire, was growing even more since he was living among many Nords that tought the same things as he did.
He knew he was old, but he didn't want to die without a fight, so in the end he joined. Galmar never saw anything in that old man, so he used him, sending him from hold to hold trying to help people as he was known to do. But one day, since Ulfric insisted, he took him with his army to get the Jagged Crown. That is where Galmar acknowledged that he was wrong about Bjorn.
As soon as they came back, Ulfric wanted his new soldier to go to Whiterun and deliver his axe to the Jarl. There he was sent to fight a dragon and turns out he was Dragonborn!
When he came back from the Whiterun war, he said what happened to Ulfirc and following his orders he went to High Hrothgar to seek the Grey beards knowledge and become stronger. On his quest to retrieve the Horn of Windcaller he found out a group of Blades was searching for him, but found Delphine disrespectful for stealing the Horn and wanting him to show her his true nature, but in the end he went to Keynes grove with her.
The plan to infiltrate the Thalmor embassy was stupid to him, so he left her and went back to his war against the Empire in Skyrim.
When the Stormcloacks were about to take Solitude and by the time Bjorn was an Officer of the army, he thought that maybe the best way to have less casualties on the Stormcloaks side was to infiltrate the Embassy and kill as many Elves as he could.
So he did so, and Solitude felt to the Stormcloacks army. Skyrim was finally free. He didn't expect Ulfric to let him go, but he knew that what he said was true: "He was needed by the gods somewhere else".
So he went back to Delphine and went by her plans. Until she asked him to kill the Grey beards leader. But all his efforts and plans brought him to Sovngarde, where he slayed Alduin and freed Tamriel from his hunger.
He went back home to Windhelm to his two adopted children: Sofie and Blaise. But after a few days of peace the city was attacked by vampires and the threat wasn't to be taken lightly so he joined the Dawnguards and when he acknowledged Harkon's plan, he took Serana with him and started the journey to seek Auriel's Bow, and with it he destroyed every vampire he met and put an end to Harkon's madness.
Something wasn't right, he knew that this was not the end of his journey. And he was right, as soon as he came back home he found 3 masked men in his house, threatening his children with fire in their hands. He went on a rampage and killed them all. He saw a strange note, something about a man called Miraak that wanted to kill him. He was ready to go and destroy this man that almost killed his children, the only thing he cared about ever since he lost his family back in Bruma.
A new adventure was ahead of him, in the far island of Solstheim. He did everything he could to help the Raven Rock settlement, and finally found a way to meet Miraak. He was the first Dragonborn, that was unsettling for Bjorn. For the first time in many months he felt fear.
He did everything he could to stop Miraak from coming back to Tamriel. He tried to make the best decisions, but at one point he had to sell his soul to Hermaeus Mora in order to have a chance to kill this great evil that inhabites the depths of Apocrypha.
He went there fearful, but he came out victorious. But the deed to the Daedric Prince was done. He knew he could not go back. He asked for one final favor from him, to go back home and stay one day with his kids. The Prince accepted.
He spent his last day in Tamriel happy, playing with his kids and reading books of adventure with them. But time was running fast. So he went to the docks of Windhelm, kissed his children on the forehead and sailed once more to Solstheim.
Once there he went in the woods, read the black book and traveled to Apocrypha, his new jail.
Nirn never heard his name again, he simply disappeared the people of Tamriel said, but the world was surely reshaped by his actions.
Sorry it this was a veeeery long post, but I felt like it was a cool story to tell, and I would like to read yours now.
Thanks for going through this! ❤️

Company Name	Title	City
Volunteers of America	Online Marketing Specialist	Columbus
Volunteers of America	eCommerce Associate	Columbus
City of Pataskala	Immediate Openings Utility Systems Superintendent Pataskala	Columbus
The Ohio State University Wexner Medical Center	RN - High Risk OB/Antepartum - University Hospital- R68520	Columbus
Southern Glazers	Day Warehouse Worker	Columbus
McLane Company, Inc.	Shipping/receiving Coordinator	Columbus
Rogue Fitness	Warehouse Team Member - 3rd Shift	Columbus
ADB Safegate	Warehouse Manager	Columbus
Trillium Staffing	Shipping & Receiving	Columbus
Path Robotics	Supply Chain Manager	Columbus
McNaughton-McKay Electric Company	Warehouse Associate - Summer Help	Columbus
Frito-Lay	Sales/IMO Warehouser - Part-Time	Columbus
Simos	Forklift Operators - Immediate Start	Columbus
LaborMAX	Warehouse Associate NEXT DAY PAY (Transportation Provided)	Columbus
Hillyard	Department Manager- Warehouse	Columbus
McLane Company, Inc.	Warehouse Order Selector	Columbus
Fishman Flooring Solutions	Warehouse Associate-SIGNING BONUS!!!	Columbus
Abercrombie and Fitch Co.	Distribution Warehouse Associate- Full Time & Part Time Positions!	Columbus
National Beverage Corp.	Warehouse Worker	Columbus
K&M Tire	Warehouse Team Member / Back-up Route Driver	Columbus
Midway Products Group	2nd shift Team Leader-Ship & Rec.	Columbus Grove
Manpower USA	Forklift Driver II	Columbus Grove

Hey guys, here are some recent job openings in columbus. Feel free to comment here or send me a private message if you have any questions, I'm at the community's disposal! If you encounter any problems with any of these job openings please let me know that I will modify the table accordingly. Thanks!

Part 23 Oh, So Many Horrors (Part 1) (Part 22)
​
"So, let me see if I got all of this right." General Andrews held up his notepad and adjusted his reading glasses as he quickly glanced over what he had written down. "The red and brown crabs are fascists who will eat you as soon as talk to you, the little gray men are slavers who genuinely believe they own you by default, and there's some kind of eldritch horrors that just float around in space and consume any biomass they detect? And that's just who's in the local area?"
​
"Yes. And also, there are Bandari, the… uh… frog pirates who steal things and kidnap people as their chosen profession." Considering how this was all for the benefit of the General, as well as Mik, Tarki was doing her best to speak in English and mimic the neutral accent Andrews had been using.
​
"Almost forgot about them." The General turned a page back on his notepad to read what he had written down about the flamboyant reptilians the golden avian had described at the very beginning of the presentation. "But they don't seem anywhere near as bad as the rest."
​
"That's because they're not." Msko chimed in, the translated voice in Andrews's ear features hints of boredom as the War Chief nonchalantly sat on a table a few paces away. "You can actually have a conversation with 'em sometimes. But they could still be a serious threat to Sol and Earth if an entire fleet showed up for a raid."
​
"But your fleet could handle them, right?" General Andrews shot back with a tone that implied he already knew the answer. Receiving only a bored smile and nod as an answer, he continued. "Well, isn't that just convenient for you? It seems that without your fleet, we Earthlings would be completely at the mercy of an uncaring at best, and outright hostile at worst, galaxy full of horrors."
​
Though the General shot Msko a snide look, the War Chief simply shrugged and nodded towards Tarki for her to explain.
​
"To a certain degree, that is correct. However, if it were not the Nishnabe Confederacy performing the initial security and evaluation of this system, who are members of your own species might I mention," Tarki let that fact hang in the air for a second before continuing, "it would have been either the Qui’ztar Fifth Matriarchy or the Nukitov Unified Coalition's Second Sphere, neither of which are… as nice or familiar as the Nishnabe."
​
"Yes, yes, I've already had the pleasure of a conversation with Fleet Admiral Atxika." Andrews half snorted as he thought about how brazen and confident that woman was towards him. "She was not what I would consider a friendly person."
​
"Atxika is from the Third Matriarchy, not the Fifth, and is actually quite kind if you show her the proper amount of respect. She has been an Admiral for nearly 20 years, after all. The Fifth Matriarchy, on the other hand, are… culturally far more aggressive and far less tolerant of disrespect. The Nukitovs, as a species, just really like to fight and will take any excuse to do so." Tarki pressed a few buttons on her data tablet and triggered a large hologram of the Milky Way galaxy to appear with hundreds of divided up sections. With a few more commands, Tarki caused the map to zoom in on a familiar area vaguely familiar to the General. "This is the pre-Ascension exclusion zone around the Sol System, which has a roughly 750 light-year radius. As you can see, it sits squared between the patrol sectors of the Third Matriarchy and the Second Sphere. Until your species reaches galactic standards of technology, one of them would have provided security in and around your star system, assuming you didn't already have exceptionally competent cousins capable of doing so."
​
"You all just assume we are incapable of defending ourselves?" Though he was now aware of the major threats Earth, Mars, and the rest of the solar system faced, the General couldn't help but feel like this was all too convenient. Or, more specifically, that there was some critical piece of information being left out.
​
"That isn't an assumption, General. It is a fact." Though the expression on the avian's face was unfamiliar to the human, he could still tell she was being deadly serious. "Your people have yet to independently develop active shielding, your standard firearm-based weapons are incredibly inefficient, and the most advanced technology native to this system is the FTL drive Mikhail developed, which is still highly experimental. The only other technology at or above galactic standards would be the mechanized combat walker suits that Mikhail also owns."
​
"Don't forget about my ship." Mik chimed in from the corner of the room he and Tens were smoking in. "Not the 'dewbi, but the one NAN's buildin' for me."
​
"How in the hell did you get access to alien technology already?" The General actually had hints of jealousy in his voice as he turned in his chair and fully redirected his attention towards the Martian.
​
"I bought the mechs, and the ship was a gift." The beard man shrugged then took a long drag off of Tens's somewhat small and short pipe.
​
"Bought? Gift?!?" General Andrews's jealousy was now mixed with anger. "So MarsGov was given access to alien weapons of war? And neither the US nor UN-E were given that same opportunity? That-" Before the rant could start, Msko cut General Andrews off.
​
"No, those are Mik's personal property and he has agreed not to take full possession of them until we can get all of this drama sorted out. However, humanity as a whole will absolutely have full access to the most advanced technologies in the galaxy, some of which we have developed ourselves, once we feel we can trust you." Msko was starting to get annoyed by how the General was treating everything as a threat despite the War Chief's best efforts to help him understand the situation. "We genuinely had the intention of gifting you, our long separated but never forgotten cousins, a fleet of dozens of ships, vast amounts of resources and production capabilities, and all of the knowledge and wisdom we have acquired over the centuries. However, the governments of Earth have proven they cannot be trusted yet, especially your government."
​
"And MarsGov can be trusted?" The General scoffed at the implication that he or his military couldn't be trusted but their primary adversary could be.
​
"I didn't say that, did I?" Msko shot back with a dismissive chuckle. "No offense Mik, but there are a lot of very angry people in your government. And they seem to be almost completely incapable of forming any kind of consensus, except in the face of the most extreme and pressing issues. I am not in the habit of giving potentially-violent agitators access to technologies that could be used for mass destruction."
​
"Fair enough." Mik chuckled as he let out a cloud of smoke which was quickly absorbed by the nearby air vent. "There's a reason I don't talk to my pops anymore. If I let him have access to my mechs, he'd make your life hell, Rob."
​
"And what exactly were your plans with the equipment you acquired, Dr. River?" General Andrews ignored the overly personal way Mik had just addressed him and focused on his more pressing concerns. "Be completely honest with me, how much land were you gonna try to take back?"
​
"None! I swear!" Mik's smile had suddenly vanished as his medium tan became slightly pale. "I just wanna see the stars and have some mech-fighting competitions, man, not start a goddamn war! Hell, if anythin' I'd just buy the fuckin' land back."
​
"You really expect me to believe that?" Though the General flat out refused to accept the concept of 'mech-fighting competitions' with military hardware, the Martian looked about as honest as a person could.
​
"Look man, there're aliens right there!" Mik motioned towards Tarki at the front of the room and then at Binko who was silently perched next to Tens. "No offense, you two. But damn, General, how can yah still be thinking about the bullshit between UN-E and MarsGov when there's a literal alien who just explained to yah the kinda shit that's just waiting to kick down our door?"
​
"My job is to protect American interests, first and foremost." The General retorted while folding his arms in a show of indifference which Msko took offense to.
​
"And wouldn't it be in your country's best interest to not let greedy business people undermine your future among the stars?" Msko blurted out with a genuinely shocked and frustrated tone. "Look, we aren't here to tell y'all how to live your lives or force you to be any sort of way. We just don't want to see our cousins become the next Arnehilians!" The War Chief almost shouted that last sentence before pausing for a moment to calm himself and continuing. "I don't give a fuck about your corporations as long as they aren't enslaving people, building autonomous combat-AI without proper oversight, or pulling some other illegal bullshit like that. I don't want to see my people’s homeworld get quarantined by Military Command because y'all can't act like responsible adults and treat people right."
​
"Alright, boys," Tarki quickly interjected with a motherly, if exhausted, tone in a desperate attempt to avoid the one thing she had been leaving out, "let's bring it down a bit. The gravity of this Deathworld is stressing me out enough, I don't need the pouting and yelling making it worse. Your species is still very young and there are many fresh wounds between your diverse peoples. Please, take a moment to reflect on that fact and think about the kind of relationship you want to have with each other while I take a moment to rest."
​
The General’s eyes watched carefully as Binko sprang from his perch and was instantly at his wife's side to support her in their walk towards a door that led outside. Their slow and awkward gait, though somewhat human-like, was almost concerning to the hardened veteran as each step looked like a struggle. As soon as the pair were through the door and it had closed behind them, the General turned towards the other men and spoke in a surprisingly compassionate manner.
​
"Is she alright?" The genuine way the question was asked caught all three of the men in the room off guard.
​
"Yeah, yeah, Earth just has pretty high gravity for a Kroke." Tens was the first to break through the shock of Andrews's concern and tried to explain as simply as he could. "Their species evolved on a planet with around 6.2 meters per second squared of gravity and the galactic standard for interspecies ships and stations is only 4 m/s2."
​
"Ah, is that why she referred to Earth as a Deathworld? Our gravity is relatively high?" There was something in Andrews's eyes that seemed to imply he had no intention of continuing the official discussion until the neutral diplomat returned.
​
"Well, Earth is classified as a Class 17 Deathworld, but it's more than just the gravity." Tens reached up to press the lens he was wearing then brought his hand back down and began making very slight and subtle gestures. "Hold on a second, let me bring up the official GCC classification…. Nope, I was wrong. It was updated to a Class 18, basically the very limit of what the Center of Xenology predicted was possible for Ascended life to evolve on. Between the extreme weather patterns, highly destructive geological activity, commonality of lethal diseases, and hyper-competitive and violent food web, it's a miracle our species survived long enough to independently develop space flight."
​
"Ah, it's not that bad." Andrews chuckled like a weathered old gentleman in response. "Sure, you may be freezin' in the winter and meltin' in the summer in some places. But there's a lot of really nice places too."
​
"I've heard Hawaii's beautiful year-round, but it's an active volcano." Mik commented then took another puff off of Tens's pipe before passing it back to the Nishnabe next to him. "Same thin' with California, 'cept they got earthquakes that'll topple buildin's instead."
​
"A little lava and shaking ain't the end of the world. I swear, you Matrians got it made in the shade with your climate controlled stations and colonies." The seasoned General couldn’t stop himself from letting out a bit-too-friendly of a laugh. Something about this entire interaction so far, though somewhat intimidating, simply felt so personal to him, in a good way, that he found himself relaxing after catching a whiff of the smoke pouring from the pipe. "Oh, and by the way, is that Virgina Cherry tobacco I'm smelling?"
​
"No, but it's better." Mik quickly answered while Tens and Msko looked at the General and then towards the pipe in Tens’s hand with mildly confused expressions. "It's got that same kinda flavor, but it's sweeter, richer, and smoother. Hands down, the single best mix I've ever tried."
​
"It doesn't have any of that Martian stanky shit in it, does it?" Andrews's retort had just the right amount of friendly sarcasm to put a smirk on Mik's face.
​
"Nah, I got that right here." The Martian shot the General a cheeky wink and partially pulled a metal cigar tube from a purpose-built pocket sewn into his jacket. "I figured you'd be a square and I didn't wanna be that guy. But it seems we got ourselves a connoisseur with refined tastes."
​
"I haven't partaken in the green vice since I was in high school." Andrews let out such a sincere and hearty laugh that put a smile on the faces of the three other men. "But I do find myself drawn to the sweet smoke of good tobacco mix on occasion."
​
"Would you wanna try some?" Tens interjected with the question the General had been waiting for. "It would be an honor to share sema with you, General."
​
"Wait, hold on." Msko interrupted with a somewhat serious tone. "You're a high ranking military officer, right?"
​
"Why, yes. In fact, I am the highest ranking officer in the US Army and a member of the Joint Chiefs of Staff." Andrews responded with just a hint of confusion before Msko's smile suddenly grew incredibly wide.
​
"Well, in that case, we should use my pipe." The War Chief quickly followed up. "Tens has great taste in smoke, but his choice of utensil leaves a lot to be desired. A person of your status deserves something special!"
​
Mik and General Andrews watched with bated breath as the War Chief reached into his large, finely decorated leather satchel and pulled out a smaller, but still quite long, leather pouch covered in micro-bead designs. The slow and reverential process of taking out the pipe bag, removing the carefully stowed stem and head, then assembling the two pieces was almost ritualistic in nature. The bulky head made of a metallic stone carved into an effigy of an eagle's head on the front, tomahawk blade on the bottom, and bowl at the top was perfectly complemented by the long, thick dark-wood stem decorated with more micro-beads, intricate silver inlays, and a variety of feathers. While Mik could do nothing but stare, General Robert Andrews was thrown back to a very particular and cherished memory from his early childhood.
​
"If only my great-grandfather were still here to see that." Andrews had a genuinely pleasant expression as he reminisced. "His grandfather was a member of one of the Chippewa nations and a pipe maker, but as a mixed grandkid, he didn't have enough blood quantum to enroll. I remember all the stories he used to tell me about how happy he was working in his grandfather's workshop and helping with the beading. But also how sad he was that he couldn’t really participate in the rest of the culture."
​
"I didn't know you were Native, Rob!" Mik instantly blurted out while both Tens and Msko once again had confusion written all across their faces. "And Nish, too!"
​
"Well…" There was clear hesitation from the General, both at how Mik had addressed him and how to explain this in front of the Nishnabe warriors. "If my great-grandpa wasn't Native enough to enroll, I can hardly call myself Native now, can I? I don't know the language, practice the culture, or even really know much. It's just a small part of my genealogy."
​
"Meh, blood quantum is stupid." The Martian retorted with a scoff while Msko and Tens locked eyes with deeply concerned looks. "If you have a real ancestral connection and you actively try to embrace it, that's what's important."
​
"What is 'blood quantum'?" Tens finally broke his silence and tried to repeat the phrase in English. As he leaned over slightly and tossed Msko his tobacco pouch, he was visibly struggling with what his translator had said to him. "My translator is contextualizing it as… uh… well, it doesn't makes sense to me."
​
"Hold on a second." Msko quickly interjected after catching the pouch with his left hand, then placing it over his heart and closing his eyes for a moment. The room was silent for the few seconds it took the War Chief to say a silent prayer to his ancestors before he opened his eyes, began packing the bowl, and continued. "Ok, so, what is this 'blood quantum' bullshit and why does it sound so exclusionary?"
​
"That's because it is." Mik plainly admitted. "It was part of the attempt to at genocide and some of the Tribes ended up internalizing it. I try not to judge other Tribal governments and the vast majority have moved on to lineage now. But there were a lot of people who couldn't enroll and lost all connection to their Tribe and culture because of that."
​
"But that doesn't really answer my question." Msko wasn't quite glaring at Mik, though the look on in those neon green eyes was quite serious. "What does the 'quantity of Native American blood' even mean? How can part of your blood be from a certain culture but the rest isn't? That's not how biology or social systems work."  "Well… uh…" Mik was struggling to think of a way to explain this without giving a lecture longer than the presentation they had just sat through, which prompted the General to explain for him.
​
"What I'm about to say is off the record and is my personal opinion, not official policy of the United States Army or government." Andrews looked over at Msko with a very particular expression that was immediately understood. After the War Chief pressed a few buttons on his wrist, he casually crossed the short distance between himself and the General, and offered him the pipe with a knowing nod. "Thank you, I truly appreciate this. Now, if I say the words 'integration' and 'assimilation', how does your translator contextualize them?"
​
"Integration is something like accepting other people and their cultures while assimilation is forcing others into your…" Msko suddenly looked as if he was have a realization that he really didn't like. "Oh… and let me guess, the United States has a policy of assimilation, not integration."
​
"Well, the word assimilation doesn't exist in any of our official policy statements. And, again, if you try to quote me on this I'll deny it." The General paused for a moment to pull out his US Army branded lighter, bring the pipe up to his lips, and take an experienced puff. Allowing the smoke to linger in his mouth before inhaling slightly, he continued speaking while smooth smoke tumbled out of his mouth. "But Dr. River is right about both about this absolutely delicious tobacco and the genocide of Native Americans. And, to be completely honest with you, the irony of that statement is palpable. When Europeans first contacted Native Americans and were introduced to tobacco, they didn't integrate the traditional understanding and use of tobacco. No, what they did with tobacco is the same thing that happened with the damn near everything else here, it was assimilated into European practices and cultures without any consideration for the local people."
​
"To be completely fair, Rob," Mik chimed as he and Tens walked over and formed a smoking circle with the General and the War Chief, "Europeans have done that all across the world, not just the Americas. And I'd say it wasn't just the Europeans neither. There're bastards all over the world who think they have the right to force people to be a certain kinda way. Shit like that just ain't right."
​
"So, blood quantum was a way to forcefully assimilate Native Americans?" Tens asked while watching the General respectfully passing the pipe back to Msko.
​
"In short, yes." Andrews had a genuinely remorseful expression on face as the War Chief took a puff off the pipe and passed it Tens. "Up until the disbandment era, the US government recognized Native American Nations as sovereign, dependent nations. However, in the first couple hundred years of this country's history, there was a requirement that any enrolled member of a Native Nation must have a certain portion of their heritage associated with a specific Nation to be recognized by the US government. It was usually between a half and a quarter, meaning at least one parent or grandparent had to be full blood, to enroll. Some Nations changed that rule when they were given the opportunity, but not all of them. I believe some of the Tribal governments on Mars still use blood quantum to a certain degree, though I'm sure Dr. River will correct me on that."
​
"Nah, you're right, and it pisses me off!" Mik's tone and expression showed how bothered he was by the continued use of this exclusionary practice. "Blood quantum was just the colonizer's attempt to breed us out of existence. Like, I try not to judge other Tribes and how they run their governments, but some shit just makes me mad. When I see a person who lives by the Teaching and honors their ancestors get denied enrollment, or, even worse, when a supposedly full blood Native thinks they're better than me just cuz my ma was Ukrainian, it just makes my fuckin' blood boil."
​
"This whole concept is confusing the hell out of me." Tens spoke up while passing the pipe to Mik. "I can understand cultural differences and people losing touch with their ancestors' culture, and thus forming a new culture. Or, a person leaving one cultural group and joining another. But I just don't understand how people can divide each other based on genetics when our species is one of the most homogenous in the entire galaxy. And that isn't just within the Nishnabe. The medical report I just looked up shows all of us on Earth, Mars, and Shkegpewen are between 99.6 and 99.9 percent identical on a genetic level."
​
"That's cuz it ain't genetic, man, it's goddamn skin color." Mik replied after taking a moment to really examine the smoking utensil in his hand and taking a long drag. "I'm Citizen Potawatomi and my Tribe's blood quantum was initially determined by some drunk White guy who couldn't tell the difference between a tan and skin tone. Fucker decided that some parents and grandparents were less Native than their kids cuz the kids had been outside and runnin' around all summer and adults had been spending alotta time inside."
​
"Oh, that is so fucking stupid." Msko blurted out while rubbing the bridge of his nose. "So, someone looked at you, a person who is trying to speak the language, practice the culture, and live by the Teachings, and said, 'I'm better than you cuz I'm darker'? I would smack the ever-loving shit outta anyone who said that to me. There are Hi-Koth, Kyim'ayik, and a few other species that live with us and follow the Teachings better than Tens here while still practicing their traditional cultures. And we absolutely consider them as full citizens of the Nishnabe Confederacy regardless of what they look like, where they're from, or their specific cultural practices."
​
"In theory, that is kind of how the United States is supposed to work as well." The General spoke up while Mik passed him the pipe. “We’re supposed to accept anyone and everyone. However, historically, that has come at the cost of a person's traditional cultural identity. People here aren’t British or Chinese or Nigerian, they’re Americans. All of them. For good or bad, we try to be accepting of everyone and have largely moved past things like skin color as a means of dividing people. In the 2050s, there were even reparations given out to the descendants of former slaves, and that kicked off about 100 years of healing the racial divides in America. It really is a shame that the tribes were disbanded about 50 years ago because, besides that, this country really has come a long way towards becoming who we should have been this whole time.”
​
“A corporate-State run for the benefit of the ultra-wealthy?” Mik’s snarky remark caused the General’s eyes to roll with annoyance while taking a drag off the pipe.
​
“I said, ‘in theory’, damn it!” The sarcastic chuckle Andrews let out was the only thing that stopped Msko from lambasting Mik for the snide remark.
​
There was progress being made, official or otherwise, and the War Chief didn't want inappropriate jokes or comments to ruin that. As the General took a puff off the pipe, still chuckling to himself as he did so, Msko felt his wrist-mounted communicator begin to vibrate. Though he didn't want to upset the flow of this positive interaction, he trusted that his orders to only disturb him if there was an emergency were being followed. With a sharp chirp-like whistle, he drew the group's attention to his now flashing communicator and pressed a button to activate it.
​
"Report." The War Chief barked with a deepened voice.
​
"War Chief, we have a situation at the South East gate of the facility." A feminine voice answered. "There is a growing crowd of people at the south gate to the facility, including some reporters."

Hi Tokkis! This is my first post on this sub. I feel sad. Part of what drove me to write this post is the fact that recently, two groups, Enhypen and (G)I-DLE, announced their world tour dates. But none of them feature Australian cities. So I thought to myself, surely ADOR won't let us down, right? An eventual Australian tour has been practically handed to them on a silver platter. So I ask you, what do you think a future Australian tour would and should look like, your expectations and the likely reality?
First off, I think that a spring tour would be best, so anywhere between late September to early November. They would avoid the bitterly cold winter, but also they would not have to deal with the draining heat of summer. Also I personally think spring has the most pleasant weather.
Now, probably the most important part: which cities should they visit? In my opinion, I think they should visit these cities, in this order: Perth - Adelaide - Melbourne - Sydney - Newcastle - Brisbane. This way, all the major cities get a fair go, whilst also maximizing the sentimental value. I also wish that they could spend a bit of time exploring each stop of their tour.
As for the optimistic reality, they pull a TWICE and only visit Sydney and Melbourne. The pessimistic reality, is that they do a full-scale US, Asia and Europe tour and just forget Australia's existence. To the Aussies reading this, 2024 WILL be our year. Hope you had as much fun imagining these scenarios as I had writing them out!

Hi guys! I got my first injection today and my doctor suggested me to post it online to share with people. I think there’s not a lot of information about HRT in Asia in English, so I decided to write down my own experience. Hopefully this can help anyone who lives in Taiwan or wants to come to Taiwan for a transition. Dr. Hsiang-tai Chao is the most experienced doctor in Taiwan, and since Taiwan is the most LGBTQ+ friendly country in Asia, I heard a lot of people in Asia would like to come see this doctor! So here’s what happened. I’m so happy rn lol.
[HRT experience in Taiwan. In Taipei Veterans General Hospital. Dr. Hsiang-tai Chao]
Today is my first time undergoing hormone replacement therapy. Dr. Chao encouraged me to record it and post it out to share with more people.
Dr. Chao has both precise medical knowledge and sex education knowledge. It is very pleasant to talk with him, as he is neither limited to the underdeveloped medical field, nor being influenced by fake information. So in my personal opinion it’s a very good experience to talk with him.
For example, he finds the term “transsexual” being inappropriate because being transgender has nothing to do with “sexual”. As for gender identity disorder, he still finds it weird due to the word “disorder”. He thinks trans people aren’t disordered, just a normal person in a wrong body. The reason why he objects these terms isn’t just to achieve “anti-stigma”, but also based on medical facts, which makes me think he’s a reliable doctor.
As a doctor he asked some awkward but necessary questions, like personal sex activities, the time when the patient realizes that they’re transgender. I don’t feel offended in anyway because I’m more of a pragmatic man. If you’re very sensitive you may mind being asked these questions, however, as the doctor is already being very careful while dealing with this, you should know that you need to let them know what you need help in so that they can help you better.
Dr. Chao also chatted with me and shared some relatable ideas and information. He has a line group you can join so that you can discuss and contact other patients. Although he’s a man with age but he cares about online community a lot. If you worry about family or parental stuffs, he only told me to be"孝順" so there should not be something you need to worry about.
As for HRT schedule, he thinks instead of having a blood test today, it is better for me to have a testosterone injection this time and have blood tests in two, three, four weeks to see the level of testosterone, while having another injection on the fourth week. And the time for the third injection will depend on the results of blood tests.
Besides Dr. Chao, all the nurses here are very nice, professional, careful. Their injecting skill is so amazing that my butt cheek isn’t hurt now. Thanks so much for their helpfulness and friendliness.
As for the Dr's persona, the environment in the hospital, the feeling of being injected etc. I ain't sharing cause it's good. How good? You can experience them yourself!
It takes a GD certificate and 520 NTD to see him, and it costs 200NTD per injection with 200mg. You can also get injection at home by yourself or with help by friends.