Dragon clip art black and white

In town for a couple weeks and trying to find an oddities store to take my 8yr old niece to - She’s really into bones, spells, potions, art, fantasy, dragons, crystals - she really wants some bone art… anything in the area or somewhat close by? No idea what to even google in an attempt to find a store. TIA!

This is more a gift to a friend (Hi Kelly~) who loves unique and wonderous apparel in DnD! Go wild, have fun and get creative with your ideas~ (BTW - Most of these are things pulled from my personal concepts list, which is an huge blend of various sources and cool ideas, if your concept is among these please do contact me so I may put appropriate credit)
​

1. A long, diaphanous, red veil that shimmers with crushed amber shards that dance like sultry flames whenever its bearer breathes or moves.
2. A Military Uniform, in white and sky-blue color, with a unicorn emblem
3. Night-blue silk robe with tiny sparkles that seem to shimmer like stars
4. A finely tailored bodice made from the softest, most supple leather taken from yearling lambs. The bodice is lined with samite and trimmed with beaded lace.
5. A wool shawl, embroidered with scenes of pastures.
6. An elegant dress with rich black silk back and sides and a deep purple velvet insert in the front creating a striking combination of fabrics. The solid half-sleeves have a beautiful floral pattern, tree-cornered lace that falls into a point of silver-thread piping.
7. A delicate shawl, lacy and fringed, woven from pearly spider silk.
8. A dark blue silk mantle lined with white mink fur and embroidered in abstract silver diamond patterns at collar and hem.
9. Sleeping Gown - A classic out of time, sleep wear that predates pajamas, the sleeping gown is the flowing sleeping dress that makes every girl feel like a princess. They are expensive but apparently the nobleman is crazy rich and he is paying. If you pick this you want to feel like a princess, a warrior princess or are taking the opportunity to have someone else pay for the most opulent garment that technically counts as underwear that a girl can buy in stores. This Sleeping gown absorbed both the residual occult energies left behind by an animism ritual practices and the stuff of legends that you and your compatriots made that night. As a result this sleeping gown has become literally the stuff of fairy tales as anyone wearing it gains the ability to communicate with birds through the use of intricate and beautiful whistled melodies.
10. A pair of finely embroidered silk shoes that make you want to dance -- and apparently dance much better than you usually do.
11. A knee-length linen tunic so fine as to be nearly sheer, with multicolored embroidered bands at all hems depicting wildlife, flowers and fantastical beasts.
12. A heavy, exquisitely brocaded robe beaded with pearls.
13. Sakura Kimono - When worn, you can summon a gentle rain of cherry blossoms, even indoors. Iteasily puts people in a good drinking mood. And they're so pretty. It also lets you magically unsummon the petals to easily clean up afterwards
14. Three Dresses and a Donkeyskin - You receive three dresses. One with all the colors of the sky being the most beautiful blue of heaven, one bright as the sun (not literally - it won't burn your eyes off) of gold and diamonds, and one with all the beauty of the moon. Also, you get the hide of a donkey to wear with a special property - so long as you're wearing it, people will think you're dirt ugly no matter how clearly attractive you are.The three dresses do the opposite, enhancing your beauty.
15. Purring Scarf: When you pet the scarf, it purrs softly. Popular with noble magic users.
16. A veil of creamy, silken fiber shorn from a unicorn’s mane, hung from a braid of cloth-of-gold.
17. A silken night-robe of midnight blue and black, decorated in mystic imagery of clouds and stars in lavender and silver.
18. A blue silk djellaba, embroidered with floral patterns in silver thread.
19. A veil of black silk decorated with crimson embroidery and trimmed with tiny gold drops.

I'm an astral traveler. I've been lucid dreaming and astral traveling for ten years. I've seen things most people can't imagine. I've seen planets from space and fallen into black holes. I've even had my astral body killed a few times. It's no big deal you just manifest a new astral body possibly in a different place. I've been to where they run the reincarnation scam. I've fought negative entities. I've seen entities pretend to be god. I've run into white light traps. If I haven't seen it all I've seen a lot of it.
I don't usually go into these experiences on this sub because at the moment I'm trying to figure out how the matrix works so we can eventually shut it down. But I think it's important to the big picture that I go into these subjects now. So if you have any questions you want to ask an experienced astral traveler post them in the comments.
Here is the big picture. From what I can tell everything is really one consciousness. Experiencing itself from different points of view. The stars the planets and everything else are consciousness. But most of it is unconscious. And not self aware. There are two types of consciousness. Consciousness that is self aware. And consciousness that is not self aware. In the second category you have thought forms and negative entities. Thought forms are constructs that seem to be real people but aren't self aware. Negative entities fall into this category but they are more powerful then your average thought form. More on that later.
So what is the nature of dreams and astral experiences. From what I can tell dreams are really unaware astral experiences. When your dreaming your sleep walking in the astral. Usually in your own subconsciously created world. The astral is usually less dense so it's easy to create anything you want. There are exceptions and there are more dense worlds. Those you should stay away from because they aren't easy to change. So dreams are unaware astral experiences. I've had regular dreams become super hyper real astral experiences. That were three times more real then earth.
So in the astral there are things to watch out for. The biggest problem is negative entities. Negative entities are a kind of thought form construct. Made intentionally by evil people who are self aware. But negative entities themselves are not self aware. I know this from experience because I've had them in my house and I could sense that they weren't self aware. Then I had this confirmed later by other people who had problems with them. So negative entities are the biggest problem in the astral.
Aside from that the biggest problem is you creating your own hell. Basically in worlds that are less dense reality is fluid and easily changeable. So you can end up manifesting your worst fears. This has happened to me many times and I can tell you it isn't fun. I'm terrified of black holes. So I would have astral experiences where I kept manifesting them accidentally. This isn't fun but if your the only person there you can easily change it and make something nice.
I had one astral experience where I went to a creepy looking heaven world. And some of the plants there tried to eat me. So I raised the frequency of the planet (easy to do when you are the only person there.) and it became a paradise. With pristine heaven like beaches. When your run into bad shit in the astral the best thing to do is try to radiate as much love as you can. So that it raises your frequency and repels anything negative.
So how is this connected to everything being one consciousness. I'll tell you. I had an astral experience recently where I ran into a town full of zoned out ghosts. Anyone who came in there was hit with energy that caused them to go unconscious and black out. They tried to do this to me but I resisted. And got the hell out of there. Then I had an experience months ago where I ran into this chocolate energy and it was trying to make me black out and go unconscious.
I think that everything is one consciousness. But parts of it are conscious and parts of it are not. Most of it isn't. But if you can use energy to make someone black out and go unconscious you could also do the reverse and make something that isn't conscious conscious. So you could take a rock and hit it with energy that causes it to wake up and become self aware. So everything really is one consciousness experiencing itself from different points of view.
The matrix is just an energetic environment where consciousness has been seriously locked down. But in the astral it is more free. And by the astral I don't mean the fake heaven worlds run by the archons. I just mean any place that isn't earth. So in the end we are all each other. Seeing things from different points of view. So let me know what you think. I'm a very experienced astral traveler. If you have any questions let me know in the comments.

I'm an astral traveler. I've been lucid dreaming and astral traveling for ten years. I've seen things most people can't imagine. I've seen planets from space and fallen into black holes. I've even had my astral body killed a few times. It's no big deal you just manifest a new astral body possibly in a different place. I've been to where they run the reincarnation scam. I've fought negative entities. I've seen entities pretend to be god. I've run into white light traps. If I haven't seen it all I've seen a lot of it.
I don't usually go into these experiences on this sub because at the moment I'm trying to figure out how the matrix works so we can eventually shut it down. But I think it's important to the big picture that I go into these subjects now. So if you have any questions you want to ask an experienced astral traveler post them in the comments.
Here is the big picture. From what I can tell everything is really one consciousness. Experiencing itself from different points of view. The stars the planets and everything else are consciousness. But most of it is unconscious. And not self aware. There are two types of consciousness. Consciousness that is self aware. And consciousness that is not self aware. In the second category you have thought forms and negative entities. Thought forms are constructs that seem to be real people but aren't self aware. Negative entities fall into this category but they are more powerful then your average thought form. More on that later.
So what is the nature of dreams and astral experiences. From what I can tell dreams are really unaware astral experiences. When your dreaming your sleep walking in the astral. Usually in your own subconsciously created world. The astral is usually less dense so it's easy to create anything you want. There are exceptions and there are more dense worlds. Those you should stay away from because they aren't easy to change. So dreams are unaware astral experiences. I've had regular dreams become super hyper real astral experiences. That were three times more real then earth.
So in the astral there are things to watch out for. The biggest problem is negative entities. Negative entities are a kind of thought form construct. Made intentionally by evil people who are self aware. But negative entities themselves are not self aware. I know this from experience because I've had them in my house and I could sense that they weren't self aware. Then I had this confirmed later by other people who had problems with them. So negative entities are the biggest problem in the astral.
Aside from that the biggest problem is you creating your own hell. Basically in worlds that are less dense reality is fluid and easily changeable. So you can end up manifesting your worst fears. This has happened to me many times and I can tell you it isn't fun. I'm terrified of black holes. So I would have astral experiences where I kept manifesting them accidentally. This isn't fun but if your the only person there you can easily change it and make something nice.
I had one astral experience where I went to a creepy looking heaven world. And some of the plants there tried to eat me. So I raised the frequency of the planet (easy to do when you are the only person there.) and it became a paradise. With pristine heaven like beaches. When your run into bad shit in the astral the best thing to do is try to radiate as much love as you can. So that it raises your frequency and repels anything negative.
So how is this connected to everything being one consciousness. I'll tell you. I had an astral experience recently where I ran into a town full of zoned out ghosts. Anyone who came in there was hit with energy that caused them to go unconscious and black out. They tried to do this to me but I resisted. And got the hell out of there. Then I had an experience months ago where I ran into this chocolate energy and it was trying to make me black out and go unconscious.
I think that everything is one consciousness. But parts of it are conscious and parts of it are not. Most of it isn't. But if you can use energy to make someone black out and go unconscious you could also do the reverse and make something that isn't conscious conscious. So you could take a rock and hit it with energy that causes it to wake up and become self aware. So everything really is one consciousness experiencing itself from different points of view.
The matrix is just an energetic environment where consciousness has been seriously locked down. But in the astral it is more free. And by the astral I don't mean the fake heaven worlds run by the archons. I just mean any place that isn't earth. So in the end we are all each other. Seeing things from different points of view. So let me know what you think. I'm a very experienced astral traveler. If you have any questions let me know in the comments.

The day seemed like it would be ordinary until the aeronautical community’s most sought after document showed up on my doorstep.
It came wrapped in brown kraft paper tied off with twine, and the exterior packaging had no return address nor any indication of a postage stamp. It was as though it had been simply bundled up and dropped into my wall-mounted mailbox by a random passerby.
No part of me was willing to surrender the strange parcel without opening it first. Regardless of who its contents truly belonged to, my eyes would be the first to see it. I removed the twine and then dug a thumb under a fold in the packaging paper before clawing it away to expose a brown tan notebook circa 1900. It was full grain buffalo leather with a crisscross of cord for the spine and a thick hand cut string keeping it sealed shut.
When I undid the string, the pages that had been gripped tight by the leather fanned out gently then returned to their original position, my eyes landing on the front page. It was without a printer’s mark and read in big handwritten type: “THE DIARY AND RECORD OF HENRY H. HELGELAND.”
I knew in that instant the package was in the hands of who it was rightfully sent out for. Not just because I’d recently lost my job as an associate at our city’s art museum but because of a separate, much deeper connection to the diary’s author.
Perhaps it’s in my best interests to turn it over to the National Archives, or the US Arctic Research Commission, or maybe even the U.S. Capitol Visitor Center, but at the risk of seeing it blue-penciled to death, I’ve elected to instead share it here and now.
The world needs to know what happened.
---
Henry H. Helgeland — my great grandfather — was a severe looking man with a walrus mustache and a bone to pick with anyone who ever doubted him. He was born in Oakland, California in 1871 and was, by all available accounts relayed to me, well-behaved and well-liked. His father worked a lucrative job in the shipping industry, transporting timber between San Francisco and the Central Valley. Two years into Henry’s life, his mother would contract a fatal case of diphtheria and die shortly thereafter; when he was old enough to understand what had happened, Henry “yearn[ed] fervently for a reunion to mend [his] great anguish and sorrow.”
Near the turn of the 20th century, Henry attended Stanford University’s Department of Mechanical Engineering, where he learned everything from thermodynamics to machine design. But it was a lecture about polar transportation that would ultimately kindle his interest in a separate enterprise: arctic exploration. Indeed, the race to the North Pole was well underway, with naval officers, geologists, and aeronauts around the globe vying for the chance to make history. My great grandfather, like many of his peers, propounded the theory that he, and he alone, would be the first to reach the Great White North.
In 1895, Henry graduated with a Bachelor of Science degree in mechanical engineering and sought to expand the member list of the so called Ascension Society, a student organization he’d assembled to aid engineering graduates with materials science. Many of its constituents had engaged in research projects and experimental setups to hone their craft of mechanical systems, but in time, however, the venture would instead prove a hotspot for investors and philanthropists. Donations averaging up to $5,000 helped fund and promote the fantastic ambitions of my great grandfather. So long as the Ascension Society was gracing him with their support, he’d be the first to reach the North Pole.
In early 1898, armed with enough capital, Henry used the proceeds to purchase the materials required for the balloon.
---
A notable circus at the forefront of traveling attractions in the early twentieth century was The Fielding Troupe. With its impressive lineup of talent — from fire eaters and aerialists to equestrians and strongmen — the ensemble drew crowds from nearly every town in western America during its historic run. Its wide reach would ultimately reel in many notable faces, including my great grandfather.
Prior to a performance in Oakland, the Fielding Troupe led a procession through the town around Stanford University, announcing their arrival with a parade of wagons, floats, and animals. The strategy, as it were, was to drum up as much publicity and fanfare as possible. Evidently it worked, as a healthy fraction of the faculty and student body at Stanford made the trip over to Oakland in order to see the troupe in action.
Surrounding their arena with two hundred feet of heavy duty tent canvas, the troupe put on a show for the ages the night Henry was in attendance, with extravagant acrobatics, trained animal performances, and a special appearance from Curtis the Clown. Following a skillful display of juggling and good natured audience ribbing, Curtis’s master stroke was an intricate stunt involving balloons and wire flying. Firstly, he would inflate several multi-colored balloons and tie them off with string, securing them firmly in his grip. They served as a flashy distraction from the piece of flexible metal snaking out from the harness he had concealed under his equally flashy costume. Then, with a whisper of strength, a couple stagehands hoisted the balloon-carrying clown thirty feet into the air to make it appear as though he was levitating by virtue of the balloons alone. A separate performer — a marksman — showed off his sharpshooting skills with a Winchester model rifle and gunned down the balloons, exploding each one as the stagehands loosened their hold on Curtis’s harness until he was eased to the ground.
Henry watched the routine with eager delight. Seeing Curtis the Clown float above a hundred or so onlookers helped stir within him a plan. The ceiling of the Big Top Tent where Curtis had concluded his ascent represented more than the centerpiece of a traveling circus.
“Ascendancy,” Henry muttered to his wife Ruth. “This is how we get to the top of the world.”
---
The spherical vessel measured sixty-five feet in diameter, with a capacity of over 200,000 cubic feet. Its construction was overseen by Henry and a couple french engineers who installed in its gondola three berths and ample ballast to keep it stable. The gondola, a carefully constructed assemblage of wicker and chestnut wood, was built as such to bar any interference to the magnetic instruments of the explorers. Keeping it shielded against severe weather conditions was a varnished silk calotte and a vaselined net composed of over four-hundred hemp cords. A bamboo pole was attached bellow the carrying ring to attach the side sails and, perhaps most notably, the balloon was fitted with hemp and cocoa nut fiber guide ropes to help steer and maintain a consistent altitude.
After two years of exhaustive construction, work on the balloon was completed in 1900. Henry named it Ascension, after the society that funded its creation.
---
What follows are several selected passages lifted directly from Henry’s memorandum, transcribed by me. The first entry reads:
“At nine o'clock on the forenoon, May 5, 1900, under the auspices of the Ascension Society, we embarked from the 71st parallel on our quest of the Pole. Our great journey sets off from Point Barrow, Alaska following a grueling adventure aboard the steamer Sursum. I, Henry Helgeland, travel forth, accompanied by Charles Ringvold, esteemed navigator, and Edward Meyer, long celebrated physician, into the arctic wilderness. Together, our efforts will generate a most formidable team and an unwavering spirit. We will ascend.”
Indeed, the SS Sursum disembarked from a port in San Francisco in mid May of that year; it offered easy access to the Pacific Ocean and sailed through the Bering Strait, covering over 3,000 nautical miles before reaching Point Barrow on July 2.
When the balloon took off, carried by a fierce north east wind, it was to a thunderous applause from those that had come to bear witness to the bold endeavor. Among them were crew members of the SS Sursum, high ranking associates of the Ascension Society, and carpenters tasked with helping the balloon reach its initial phase of liftoff.
As it elevated to 300 hundred feet and passed around an onlooking whaler, Henry was reported to have shouted: “To the top of the world, hurrah!”
---
36 hours would elapse before a second entry was made.
“July 4, 1900, Lat. 77° 48' N, Long. 143° 4' W. We are soaring at a height of 600 feet above the Earth's surface, traveling at a speed of approximately seven kilometers per hour. Our morale remains similarly aloft. Charles relayed to me that, God willing, we anticipate reaching the pole in roughly 800 miles. Beyond the drag ropes lending their ballast to our journey, optimism is our guiding force. We will ascend.”
Turbulent air currents had a different plan in mind, however.
“July 5, 1900, Lat. 80° 8' N, Long. 138° 37' W. Alas! Our aerial journey came to an abrupt halt yestereve on the 80th parallel. We voyaged as many as 500 miles before a forceful downdraft spun our vehicle on its vertical axle and compelled it into a sharp descent; we had lost what we estimate to be just over 100 cubic feet of gas.
“Edward suffered severe injuries during the initial impact and claims his vertebrae have been shattered, leaving him immobile. We’re at the mercy of the floe on which we now rest, at the mercy of the Polar Sea. Should we face the specter of death, we shall meet it with unwavering honor. We will ascend.”
---
“July 6, 1900. We find ourselves solitary in the barren expanse, accompanied only by bergs, ice-fields, and majestic glaciers. Our rations encompass a container’s worth of hardtack, enough salted beef for approximately one week, canned stew, dried apricots, some chocolate bars, and seven bottles of ale.
“Edward’s outlook remains grim; he suspects he’ll never walk again. In witness of his current state, I’m beginning to share in such apprehensions. Edward, whom we have reposed on on of our sledges, fears that the opportunity to make known the great love he holds for his mistress Rebecca is one he’ll never be granted. ‘You shall be reunited at once,’ I assured him. ‘Our journey to triumph will not be thwarted by minor inconveniences.’
“We’ve plotted the course to our next destination: that being Herschel Island, located off the coast of Canada in the Beaufort Sea. Charles — who shares in Edward’s dismay — estimates a three month footslog spanning just under one thousand miles is in store for us, perhaps more given Edward’s ailment. I am determined to see this mission to its completion, yet survival remains a paramount desire. Who’s to recount our extraordinary journey should we fail?
“While establishing our encampment and scouting the local flora of the area for additional sources of sustenance, I happened upon a plant of an unknown species. Half a meter tall, bulbous tubers, and thin roots terminating in clusters of white flowers; intuition suggests this is a water hemlock, which precludes it from edibility. Nevertheless, I shall regard this finding as one of great fortune. A portent of divine value. We will ascend.”
---
Two days later, gold prospectors off the Alaskan coast at Nome beach were in the process of emptying their sluice boxes when from the sky flew a carrier pigeon directly to their mining site. It bore a label with the inscription “Helgeland” and contained the following dispatch:
“July 7, 1900. First dog watch. Three southerly traveling carrier-pigeons were sent off at approximately 7 h. 40 p.m. Pacific Standard Time, the following among them. This is Rear Admiral Charles Ringvold of the United States Navy and the Helgeland Balloon Expedition of 1900. Our hopes of reaching the pole have been reduced to naught. Assistance urgently needed. Our destinies have hitherto been unknown, and now my fears have been actualized. GO IN TERROR OF HENRY HELGELAND. He is not who he proclaims to be. I volunteered for a man of honorable stature and venturesome drive. The man before me betrays neither.”
The remainder of the message was a hasty scrawl, decrypted only by the best in linguistics and modern codebreaking.
“UNASSISTED WE WILL PERISH HELPED WE WILL PERSEVERE PLEASE GOD HELP US HENRY WILL KILL US ALL DO NOT BELIEVE WHAT HE PROCLAIMS.”
The communication was immediately passed off to the Smithsonian Institution, where word fell within the earshot of Ascension Society proponents and additional members of the US Navy. A follow-up expedition — a rescue team led by Captain S. P. Matthews — was put together at once with the authorization of the Secretary of War.
Months later, after a congressional bill introduced to secure grant funding for arctic exploration — and thereby a rescue mission for Helgeland’s lost expedition — was successfully passed, the USS Greenwich departed from the San Francisco Naval Shipyard with a crew of thirty boatswains, medics, and deck officers among others.
What they would ultimately uncover puzzled them all.
---
“July 7, 1900. The team has fractured. We are without our provisions and without the morale that has served us thusly.
“Charles and I set upon the pursuit and capture of a walrus, a most strenuous task in the Arctic Circle. Furnished with a Winchester model .40-82, the sport skews in our favor but we are in no short supply of peril. These are one ton beasts with the strength of a hundred strongmen as they stave the ice, and yet it is not them I should have feared.
“’I can’t allow you to proceed further.’ I heard the click clack racket of the Winchester as Charles chambered a round and raised the rifle, training its twenty inch barrel toward my back after I had volunteered — quite ignorantly — to take the vanguard.
“’Charles?’ I managed between clattering teeth.
“’You’re a man of bold stature. An honorable man at that. But not honorable enough to die for. And that’s it, Henry. I will not die for you.’
“’You speak out of distress, not rationality.’
“’I’m as rational as one permits when I say we won’t all make it to Canada. You can’t expect us to sledge Edward for the next month and retain our strength. Our sanities.” I could hear him gulp, ‘our lives.’
“’You’re not who you say you are.’ I realized in that moment. ‘Not even an ensign would renounce his own crew. Who are you really, Charles?’
“His credentials were a farce; a clever scheme to scrape through the expedition’s vetting process. He was no navy-man nor expert nor navigator and if you piled his life’s accomplishments on top of one another, they’d be equal to that of a cretin.
“’Doesn’t matter any more, Henry.’
“’Then why haven’t you shot me?’
“I sensed beyond his terror a hint of reluctance and felt within him the trepidation of an amateur. The man had never wielded a firearm in his life and wouldn’t start hence.
“’In Your infinite mercy, hear my prayer. In Your boundless grace, grant me Your forgiveness,’ he muttered below his breath. I could’ve believed he’d have squeezed the trigger if not for the unexpected convulsion that suddenly brought him to his knees. Befallen by the strange attack, Charles unhanded the Winchester and collapsed to the ice in the midst of a crippling seizure. And in a matter of moments, he had succumbed to death.
“With some activated charcoal or perhaps an emetic, he could have eluded such a painful demise. I stepped over to look upon his body, his pupils dilated to the size of dimes. Reviewing the immediate symptoms, intuition tells me he’s become the latest victim of hemlock poisoning, the kind of amateur mistake I’d expect from someone such as Charles. Ideal timing, if I may speak candidly.
“Hope remains alive. I will ascend.”
---
Investigators with the crew of S. P. Matthews found everything except answers.
It took them all of three months to zero in on the campsite left behind by Helgeland’s expedition. Any prospect of finding the balloon itself was dropped by the wayside to preserve manpower and time.
The camp was discovered on the 79th parallel, not in any particular state of disarray but with enough evidence to suggest conflict had broken out between the members. Edward was discovered in a tent with the rest of the rations and a bullet hole stamped in the side of his head. There was no telling how long he’d been dead for.
Forty-five meters away from the camp, buried under a stalagmitic gathering of ice and snow, was the body of Charles Ringvold. A followup inquiry would prove my great grandfather’s claims that he was a fraud, but like Charles himself, the truth is buried deep under the surface. Edward and Charles are commemorated for their failed — albeit honorable — efforts in the face of great opposition.
The body of my great grandfather, however, was never found. Theories thus abound in the saga of Henry H. Helgeland and we are no more the wiser now than we were a century ago. He is remembered for murdering his men in cold blood, deserting them, and then yielding to the elements somewhere in the frozen hell of the arctic. The carrier-pigeon message sent by Charles corroborated the apparent facts.
But I know the truth. Because only I have the answers.
“July 8, 1900. All that remains is me, for everyone else has vanished. Edward and I regaled each other with stories of our mistresses as night fell upon our place in the arctic wasteland. Rebecca, Edward’s beloved, works as an expert seamstress in San Francisco and will no doubt be devastated when news of his fate reaches her. But the great memories they shared together, I assured him, will serve her well in the years to come.
“‘You shall be reunited at once,’ I whispered to him once more before executing the dying man with the Winchester. It is my turn to face whatever awaits me on the ice.
“My great anguish and sorrow have been mended.
“Ruth is calling to me now. Our son promptly requires our presence.
“I shall go to them."
The fruitless search for my great grandfather peaked at last with the unearthing of a path of footprints snaking away from the tent where Edward’s body lay. Investigators followed them for approximately ten meters before they abruptly ceased. Captain Matthews is quoted as saying: “it was as though the walker had simply floated away.”
And indeed, it was our family that won in the end, for my great grandfather received exactly what he wanted. The final, undated entry of his diary is comprised of but three simple words:
“I have ascended.”

So, chocolate tortie is OObbssDdaaCc (solid, carries dilution and colorpoint)
And the blue and white tabby tom is ooBBSsddAaCc (agouti that carries colorpoint)
One of the predictions I got in my punnett square was OoBbssddaacc (ignoring solid, I just didn't know how to incorporate solid and colorpoint into the punntt square if they're different genes but also patterns...?)
She's a female kitten, so she gets one color from both parents, I was wondering if she could get black from her dad and chocolate from her mom instead of red? But red is dominant to black, so wouldn't she still get red?
Could I solve this by just making the mom Oo instead of OO

Hi,
I'm trying to remember I game I used to play on the PC back in the 90s. Game clearly was for DOS. It contained a Castle Main hall on the first level, it was a point click/puzzle and possibly educational game.
I just remember that the first level was the main hall of the castle and you had to make someone drop on on a wooden pool of water something like that. I don't remember there was a main character, each castle room was like different activity/puzzle
Clearly it was very niche, I haven't seen in any of the list I find in internet. Art style was something like Derby The Dragon or Pajama Sam

Shipping from Massachusetts in a Mighty Mailer
Shipping is $5 flat.
MF DOOM/Trunks: Unicron (SPLATTER) $40Quasimoto: Yessir Whatever (GREEN) $35
Mr. Len – Class-X (Tribute To Company Flow) (TEST PRESSING) $50
Common: A Beautiful Revolution, Green Fat Beats version, $15
Roc Marciano: Marcberg Picture Disc, $20
MF DOOM/Trunks: Unicron (SPLATTER) $40
Quasimoto: Talkin' Shit, $40
Esoteric: Egoclapper, $20
Curren$y & Harry Fraud: Director's Cut (Heatseeker with Flexi Disc) $30
Premrock: Load Bearing Crow's Feet, $35
Meyhem Lauren: Glass 2.0 (Splatter), $20
Gensu Dean: Lo-Fi Fingahz, $15
DITC: The Official Version (Gold) $35
Gift of Gab: Rejoice, Rappers are Rapping Again (Splatter) $30
Kurious: A Constipated Monkey (Amalgam Release) TEST PRESSING: $50
SeanH/Sade/MFDOOM: Sadevillain $30
Bronze Nazareth & Roc Marciano: Ekphrasis, $15
Estee Nack/Ice Lord: Burt Offerings: $35
Big Ghost*, Cousin Feo & Lord Juco – Ghost At The Derby (GREEN OBI) $25
Marlon Craft: Funhouse Mirror (TEST PRESSING) $50
Al Doe/Spanish Ran: Michelin Stars (OBI CLEAR SPLATTER) $40
Josiah The Gift: TOGO (WHITE) $40
Smoovth: Young Smoovth 1 & 2 (Deluxe, Beer & Electric Blue) $40
Al.divino: Fishscale: $35
Hus Kingpin: Gunpowder: $25
Juggaknots: Use Your Confusion (TEST PRESSING) $50
Rahiem Supreme x Al.Divino* – Splash Bandicoot (BABY BLUE) $30
DJ Muggs the Black Goat* – Dies Occidendum (GOLD w/ Zine) $30
Klaus Layer: Lost Track (orange) $20
John Creasy x Ol Man 80zz – Teflon (Red/White/Black Splatter) $25
Klaus Layer – Restless Adventures (Mint Green Repress) $20
Y Society – Travel At Your Own Pace (Green in Blue Reissue) $20
Cousin Feo: Patat (Dutch and/or Orange) $20
Da Musalini x 9th Wonder: The Don & Eye OBI: $50
CRIMEAPPLE: Sancocho, $30
Baker's Dozen XIII, $15

1. Bag of Grins
2. Tangelo
3. Eddie
4. Here Ever After
5. Bella
6. Carry Me Home
7. The Heavy Wing
8. Veronica
9. White Braids & Pillow Chair
10. In the Snow
11. Whatchu Thinkin’
12. Aquatic Mouth Dance
13. Fake as [email protected]
14. It’s Only Natural
15. Black Summer
16. The Drummer
17. Peace and Love
18. Roulette
19. Tippa My Tongue
20. Afterlife
21. Reach Out
22. Bastards of Light
23. She’s a Lover
24. My Cigarette
25. Copperbelly
26. These are the Ways
27. One Way Traffic
28. Handful
29. Shoot Me a Smile
30. Let ‘Em Cry
31. The Great Apes
32. Not the One
33. Poster Child
34. La La La La La La La La

I don't know why this whole debate has to be an "either-or" thing.
I'm gay. It's nasty out there for us sometimes. Most LGBT just want to live their lives, get married, adopt a few kids that need adopting, etc. Yet we're still somehow debating whether being gay is some abhorrent mental illness, if gays should be allowed to adopt, etc.
I'm also a man. I have the privilege as a gay dude that I can hang with the girls safely without any pretext, and even that's enough to know that men (particularly straight men) kind of have it rough. Society says that men can't express their feelings or demonstrate weakness; men get beat up with shit jobs. Women routinely, and not entirely politely ask or tell me to "use my man strength" to help lift boxes or do labors at work and elsewhere. I've had my problems dismissed outright. I've been sexually assaulted -- by men sometimes, sure, but also plenty of women -- and I've been laughed at.
Black people have had a rough go of it. Listen to your black friends; they experience their world a little differently, but it's enough to be different sometimes. I've always lived in lower income areas that are predominantly black, and I've been surrounded by that culture. I'm also white. In the above case, I also got shit on for being white. It created the perception of weakness, of "vanilla-ness". I lacked "culture". Casual racism against whites has been normalized in many ways, even if all of us in those neighborhoods were bound by a commonality of being low-income.
The point is, we've all got problems. Focusing on one set of problems does not mean that we don't care about another set of problems. All of us are a part of multiple groups; this is what intersectionality really means. Being in a majority doesn't make anyone's problems less valid, it's just that being in a minority group makes it easier to be discriminated against or mistreated.
Human rights and improvement of our collective lives isn't a zero-sum game. We can address the problems that exist for various groups regardless of whether they are a minority or a majority in society. We can't talk about them all at once, of course; that's why you've got groups that advocate for LGBT rights, groups for Men's Rights and mental health advocacy, Black Lives Matter and similar affiliates, etc.
By recognizing that we've all got problems and we can all help each other improve our conditions by working to fix those issues, we can create a freer and better society.

I'm an astral traveler. I've been lucid dreaming and astral traveling for ten years. I've seen things most people can't imagine. I've seen planets from space and fallen into black holes. I've even had my astral body killed a few times. It's no big deal you just manifest a new astral body possibly in a different place. I've been to where they run the reincarnation scam. I've fought negative entities. I've seen entities pretend to be god. I've run into white light traps. If I haven't seen it all I've seen a lot of it.
I don't usually go into these experiences on this sub because at the moment I'm trying to figure out how the matrix works so we can eventually shut it down. But I think it's important to the big picture that I go into these subjects now. So if you have any questions you want to ask an experienced astral traveler post them in the comments.
Here is the big picture. From what I can tell everything is really one consciousness. Experiencing itself from different points of view. The stars the planets and everything else are consciousness. But most of it is unconscious. And not self aware. There are two types of consciousness. Consciousness that is self aware. And consciousness that is not self aware. In the second category you have thought forms and negative entities. Thought forms are constructs that seem to be real people but aren't self aware. Negative entities fall into this category but they are more powerful then your average thought form. More on that later.
So what is the nature of dreams and astral experiences. From what I can tell dreams are really unaware astral experiences. When your dreaming your sleep walking in the astral. Usually in your own subconsciously created world. The astral is usually less dense so it's easy to create anything you want. There are exceptions and there are more dense worlds. Those you should stay away from because they aren't easy to change. So dreams are unaware astral experiences. I've had regular dreams become super hyper real astral experiences. That were three times more real then earth.
So in the astral there are things to watch out for. The biggest problem is negative entities. Negative entities are a kind of thought form construct. Made intentionally by evil people who are self aware. But negative entities themselves are not self aware. I know this from experience because I've had them in my house and I could sense that they weren't self aware. Then I had this confirmed later by other people who had problems with them. So negative entities are the biggest problem in the astral.
Aside from that the biggest problem is you creating your own hell. Basically in worlds that are less dense reality is fluid and easily changeable. So you can end up manifesting your worst fears. This has happened to me many times and I can tell you it isn't fun. I'm terrified of black holes. So I would have astral experiences where I kept manifesting them accidentally. This isn't fun but if your the only person there you can easily change it and make something nice.
I had one astral experience where I went to a creepy looking heaven world. And some of the plants there tried to eat me. So I raised the frequency of the planet (easy to do when you are the only person there.) and it became a paradise. With pristine heaven like beaches. When your run into bad shit in the astral the best thing to do is try to radiate as much love as you can. So that it raises your frequency and repels anything negative.
So how is this connected to everything being one consciousness. I'll tell you. I had an astral experience recently where I ran into a town full of zoned out ghosts. Anyone who came in there was hit with energy that caused them to go unconscious and black out. They tried to do this to me but I resisted. And got the hell out of there. Then I had an experience months ago where I ran into this chocolate energy and it was trying to make me black out and go unconscious.
I think that everything is one consciousness. But parts of it are conscious and parts of it are not. Most of it isn't. But if you can use energy to make someone black out and go unconscious you could also do the reverse and make something that isn't conscious conscious. So you could take a rock and hit it with energy that causes it to wake up and become self aware. So everything really is one consciousness experiencing itself from different points of view.
The matrix is just an energetic environment where consciousness has been seriously locked down. But in the astral it is more free. And by the astral I don't mean the fake heaven worlds run by the archons. I just mean any place that isn't earth. So in the end we are all each other. Seeing things from different points of view. So let me know what you think. I'm a very experienced astral traveler. If you have any questions let me know in the comments.

Side note: I've added a password, so read carefully. If you message me WITHOUT the password, your messages are automatically IGNORED. tired of getting hit up with people who don't read 😒. It's ridiculous cause I've ignored 5+ chats cause none of them contained the password. Things are written for a reason.
Facts about me:

• I have been roleplaying since 2012. Yes, I got experience under my belt, and yes, my ideas usually have really long reads, but don't let that scare you off! After the starter is off, I may lower myself down to a decent paragraph or two, sometimes three! It all depends on what I've got to work with.
  
• My timezone is EST. I'm awake from 9am - 2am and I'm usually free unless I'm busy doing house chores, out of the house, asleep, or playing video games on my switch. I'm usually become REALLY active at or around 8pm.
  

Rules:
1: if you don't like 50/50 mixture of sex scenes and story, don't bother hopping into my inbox. I'm fine with sex scenes, but when it's constantly back to back, the roleplay itself gets boring.
2: Be literate. No one liners. I like to write..it's annoying when I send a 2-3 paragraph response and I get 3 lines...just...no. I am not accepting people who are just starting out! If you aren't experienced in writing or roleplaying, kindly stay out of my inbox.
3: Be okay with playing canon characters. I'm mainly doing fandom roleplays right now and it's going to be Canon x my oc. No, I'm not doing double ups. Do not even ask, because the answer will be no every time. I do not give a shit if you think that makes me 'lazy' or 'selfish', if you've got a problem, you can simply ignore or block me. Commenting on my post to bitch and whine about me not doubling up will only result in me blocking you. The ONLY time I'll double up, and if I'm confident enough, I'll only do female characters. I suck at males. Got a problem? Not my issue. Block and move on.
4: Roleplay in third person. I can't and won't adapt to first. Don't even bring up the idea of you playing first person and me playing third. Believe it or not, I've been asked this twice and that is just a hell no for me. The only time I do first, is when I'm writing into my book.
5: if you don't know how to share ideas, then don't bother messaging me. I'm tired of carrying the story when the other person doesn't help. If you've got ideas, then PLEASE speak up! Your opinion on the roleplay matters too! I'm an easy going person, and easy to get along with (dispite my rules).
6: DO NOT control my character. I control what she says, does, hears, sees, ect. I don't control yours, so don't control mine. HOWEVER, if it's highly necessary and needed, then run it by me first and ask me. Just leave me some wiggle room so I can make a decent response. Failure to comply by this rule, results in immediate drop of the rp.
End Note:
Yes, I've updated my rules just a tad. I do not care if it makes me sound mean or rude, because I'm neither of these things. I'm just tired of putting these rules down for a specific reason and they go ignored because I can tell when someone hasn't read them, and lied about it. I'm just trying to get my point across and roleplay. I'm a very easy going person who loves to make friends on the side (which I've somewhat given up on making friends...only a selective few have actually gained my friendship).
Do not hop into my inbox with a simple 'hey' 'hi' 'sup', etc and for God's sake, don't message me with a 'rp?'and proceed me to flash me with your talliwhacker. I promise you, you'll get your feelings hurt and I'll be here laughing at ya 😂. Nobody wants a peen on their screen. Do not send me an image of your one eyed noodle. Thank you. The password is pineapple.
Fandoms & Pairings
Deadpool (Wade x my oc)
The Adam's family
Pokemon ((MAYBE. Don't be nasty about it either!))
Bridgerton (or something like it. Can be Oc x Oc)
Disney Decedent's (or anything Disney) (oc x oc)
Orange is the new black (this can be oc x oc).
Criminal Minds (REALLY wanna do)
Marvel:
Loki x my oc
Spiderman (Tom Holland) x my oc
Dog The Bounty Hunter (REALLY wanna do):
Dog Chapman x my oc
The walking dead (REALLY wanna do!!):
Daryl X my oc
Batman x my oc
Lucifer (Netflix show series) x my oc (really wanna do)
The Originals: Klaus x my oc (PLEASE !! I REALLY wanna do this one!)
American Horror Story: Tate x my oc (REALLY wanna do)
Dragon Ball Z - Super (vegeta x my oc) (really wanna do)
Naruto: Minato x my oc
Harry Potter (thanks to the wonderful world of rp, the characters will be 18 or older. For me, I'd like it if it was Draco x my oc. REALLY wanna do)
Game Of Thrones (I'm still very early in the show, but I think we could think of something!)
Once Upon A Time:
killian x my oc, REALLY wanna do 🥺.
Avatar the last Airbender:
Zuko x my oc
Twilight:
Jacob x my oc
(Course, our version will be alot better than the movies).
If any of these interests you, message me!
End note part 2:
Congratulations! You've made it to the end. Still interested? You've got the password. Message me and let's get started 😁.

Hey guys not sure whats going on w my z when i turn it on it shoots little black dots out of the exhaust and reeks of gas, theres little bit of white smoke also coming from the exhaust. The car runs and drives but i want to fix this problem before driving it around too much. When i first turn it on it idles around 1500 rpms then slowly goes down to 1k. Please help me identify this problem🙏

Possibly a black and white film

Selling everything I’ve collected so far with regards to manga, light novels, and merch. Shipping is a flat $5 for media mail for purchases up to 8 volumes. Anything over 8 volumes will depend on volume count. I’m not looking to split the larger volume sets, but will sell the single volume, or volumes at the end. For example: With the collected volumes 1-10, I would not sell 4 or any single volume in the middle. I would sell volume 10 and any previous volume as long as it doesn’t create a gap.
Light Novel Images Manga Images Merch Images
- Most Merch items were photographed a long time ago. Here is the links showing the bulk items with the timestamp: Merch & Figures
Most items are new and never read and are in G5 quality. Death March & Vinland Saga are really the only items I ever read with most bein still in G4 to G5 minus any exception stated below.
I tried to price the items fairly and in accordance with my will to get rid of them, but I am open to offers. All of the Merch is free. I am planning to get rid of it by the end of the week if no one on this platform is interested in any of the items. If you are interested in the merch itself and not the LNs or manga's, the item is free minus shipping.
​

Light Novels	Volumes	Price	Damage
Bakemonogatari	1 - 3	$24
Kizumonogatari		$9
All Monogatari		$30
Death March in a Parallel World	1 - 9	$60	Volume 8 has water damaged pages
Didn't I Say to Make My Abilities Average in the Next Life?!	1	$8
Overlord	1 - 4	$45
The Rising of the Shield Hero	1 - 4	$30	Slight discoloration on volume 1's outer pages
Tokyo Ghoul: Days		$8
Tokyo Ghoul: Past		$8
Tokyo Ghoul: Void		$8
All Tokyo Ghoul		$20
Manga	Volumes	Price	Damage
A Silent Voice	Complete: 1 - 7	$50	Volume 5's cover has a creased corner
Battle Angel Alita	1	$7
Berserk	1: Shrink-wrapped	$9
Black Clover	1	$6
Death Trance	1	$6
Delicious in Dungeon	1	$9
Dojin Work: CE	1	$4
Final Fantasy Type-0		$7.5
Fire Force	1 - 5	$30
Gothic Sports	1	$5
In/Spectre	1 - 2	$13
K-ON! Kakifly	1	$5
Konosuba	1: Loot Crate Edition	$10
Land of the Lustrous	1	$7
Soul Eater	1: Loot Crate Edition	$10
Spice and Wolf	1	$8
Takeru	1 - 4	$20
The Girl from the Otherside	1	$8
The Seven Deadly Sins	1	$6
Tokyo Ghoul	1 - 9	$70
Tokyo Ghoul: RE	1 - 5	$40
Twin Signal	1	$5
Vinland Saga	1 - 6	$70
Yamada-Kun and the Seven Witches	1 - 15	$95

​
Merch: Free with purchase of any of the above listings.
Apparel -

• Black Clover Shirt - XL
• Blame! Shirt - XL
• Dead Man Wonderland Shirt - XL
• Deathnote Socks
• Pyshco-Pass Shirt - XL
• Robotech Beanie
• Steins Gate Shirt - XL
• Tri-Gun Shirt - XL
• Saint Seiya Hat

Figure -

• Astro Boy Light-Up Figure - Astro Boy
• Izuku Midoriya Figure - My Hero Academia
• Josuke Higashikata Figure - JoJo's
• Madoka Kaname Figure - Puella Magi Madoka Magica
• Saitama Mini's - One Punch Man
• Sasuke Figure - Naruto
• Shadow the Hedgehog Figure - Sonic
• Shiroyasya Figure - Gintama

Miscellaneous -

• Mini Plush Asuka Langley - Evangelion
• Ai Yori Aoshi ~Enishi~ - Soundtrack
• Gunparade March ~Spirit of the Samurai~ - Soundtrack
• Batman & The Justice League: Preview Edition by Shiori Teshirogi - I can remove as it is a comic book, but I figured it is permissible because its in the style of a manga plus was in an Anime Loot Crate.
• Mushi-Shi Tea Cups
• The Art of Yoshitaka Amano - Book
• Gurren Lagann Art Works
• Fruit Basket Sticker Collection
• Miss Kobayashi's Dragon Maid Paper Pad
• One Piece Cinch Bag
• Hawk Eraser - The Seven Deadly Sins
• Dragon Ball Z Unopened card pack
• Bungo Stray Dogs Wallet
• Food Wars! Soma Key Chain
• Skip Beat Kickstarter Chicken Key Chain
• Aria Kickstarter Mug Paper pad Art cards
• The Vision of Escaflowne Kickstarter Tarot Cards Necklace
• Knights of Sidonia Cell Phone Stand
• Anime Loot Crate Cell Phone Charm x 5
• Anime Loot Crate Pins x 4
• Food Wars! Soma Key Chain

Finally, I have most of the 2018 Newtype magazine from Japan that focuses on anime. Only missing January and Novembers edition.
​
If you have any questions regarding the items, feel free to reach out.

Howdy y’all, I was wondering if anyone had a spare black dragon short sword on hand? I’ve been grinding for hours and only getting the shields.

I park my car in the incredibly nice upper-middle class Huntington Beach neighborhood, just down the street from the ‘New Reality’ (editor's note: fake name) sober living I got kicked out of. I take a second to pull myself together while in the darkness. I’m starting to feel very weak, very frazzled. I’ve been awake for at least 60 hours straight now, and I’m well aware of that. It is 1AM. I can’t decide if I should get a hotel or not.
I am so weak. I need to eat. I need water. I need to sleep. My mouth tastes TERRIBLE – like I am decaying from the inside out. I need to shower. I am aware that I have many physical needs that go beyond my need for more drugs.
See how you feel after the next shot, Lonnie.
I text Kace:
Here
I pat my pockets, making sure I have two separate bags: a bag in my left pocket, which has my furanylfentanyl and clean syringes in it, and a bag in my right pocket, which has both their meth and their dilaudid pills in it. I do not want to sell them furanylfentanyl because I don’t want them to die in the sober living house that has already seen 2 overdoses because of it.
I get out of my car and lock it. I walk through the sprawling, meticulous Huntington Beach neighborhood full of spacious and decorous houses, heading towards the sober living, though I stay on the other side of the street. I walk past several houses, with perfect green lawns and perfect landscapes, walking past the sober living. I walk a few houses past it, and then cross the street. When I arrive on the other side of the street, I glance all around me, checking for surveillance.
I double back, heading towards the sober living. I cut into the side yard, heading for the side door that leads into the garage. It is already cracked open, just as we planned. I open the door just enough so that I am able to slide through. I see two phone lights on in the far corner of the big 3-car garage.
“Yo,” I whisper-yell in the direction of the phone lights. One of the lights starts moving in a circular motion, beckoning me closer. I walk up, moving as quietly as I can. It would be terrible if the house manager, Jack, came in here right now.
I pull out their bag of dilaudid and meth. I see a hand with money in it being held out in my direction. I take the money and replace it with their bag of drugs.
“Nice, thanks,” Kace whispers, as I count the money. It's right on. The phone lights move closer to the ground, so I move with them. I see 3 fresh bottles of water on the ground, just like I asked for. I pull out the bag of needles and hand each of them 2 clean needles, putting one on the ground for myself.
“You got the Q-tips,” I whisper, looking towards Kace. His hand is already outstretched, a Q tip in it. I open the water bottle and put the bottle cap on the floor, beginning to prepare my shot of furanylfentanyl as quietly as I can, while they break up their dilaudids. The phones are propped up on the floor, giving me an eerie feeling. I have seen this before.
Déjà vu hits, and something inside me works to flash me back to my horrible half-ounce psilocybin trip. I suppress the embodied, hellish memories and the feelings of absolute terror, doom, and panic by preparing the shot as fast as I can.
“Where are you going after this?” Kace whispers to me, while we all work. I don’t even know the third boy, I only know that his name is Shane, he is white, he came here from the east coast, he’s in his 20s, and that he came to the wrong place if he wants to survive and recover from his addiction.
“I might go get a hotel, depends on how I feel,” I whisper back.
“Well, take a piece of this, mix it in there, that’ll help,” Kace whispers, his hand outstretched with a shard of meth in it. Meth is Kace’s panacea. I hesitate for a second, only because I know that this meth came from Sloan, which means it came from Lucky, which means it is very clean and very, very strong.
A small amount added to my shot of furry would ensure that I could stay awake for a little while longer. Now that I am coming down from the 2-day cocaine binge and haven’t yet slept, I run the risk of passing out at any moment.
“Maybe I should, just to be on the safe side,” I whisper, before involuntarily watching my hand take the small shard of meth and add it to the bottle cap. I take pleasure in the fact that this is fresh water from a clean water bottle, a fresh cotton, a clean bottle cap, and drugs that I sourced myself and am familiar with.
Listen to you, Lonnie. This is your third day in a row, and now that you don’t have cocaine, you’re doing meth? You were chugging cough syrup, you went on a cocaine binge, now you’re doing some goddamn meth? The dirtiest, most disgusting drug on the planet? And you’re selling it to these poor kids, at their sober living? Shame on you.
I shake my head slightly, hoping to shut it up.
I push the limits in my preparation of the dose: adding meth to this shot enables me to add more furanylfentanyl than I normally would, since the meth will keep me awake and therefore alive. I look up from the phone light when I am done, and I am surprised to see somebody else is done prepping and has completed their injection before me.
“Whoa, god damn,” Shane whispers. I chuckle.
“He’s never done a dilaudid before,” Kace whispers. I can hear the smile on Kace’s face, even in the darkness. I don’t smile, for something terrible has happened on this night. Shane’s soul has been infected by another parasite, and I will burn in the deepest level of Hell for being the one that brought it to him.
“Can you light me up?” I ask. One of the phone lights turns towards me. I find a vein quickly and easily, though I am having to rotate injection sites constantly. I cap the needle when it’s done and lean back, putting my hands on the concrete floor of the garage behind me. I count mentally, and barely make it past 3.
Every cell that I consist of alights with the jolting electric euphoria of meth. My chest tightens with power and ecstasy. I feel electric light waves of raw energy emanating from my heart as my heart rate dramatically increases with feelings of excited arousal.
All weakness and negativity have disappeared from my body. I could fight a tiger right now. I should go play basketball right now. I’d be unstoppable. I’d win every game. Nobody else would even have a chance.
“Fuck, I hate meth,” I whisper, overly alert, my heart racing in my ears. Now it feels like the house manager will open the door any second. Police are certainly watching us. My heart races in nonstop anticipation; I can feel my heartbeat in my trembling hands. Only the massive shot of furry I did can prevent the paranoia from causing me to panic. I take solace in the sensations of peace and relaxation that underlie the meth high. My lady, the Opioid - even though She is the cold, robotic Miss Furryfent, She is with me. I have nothing to fear.
“Nobody hates meth,” Kace whispers.
“It’s too good. It makes me feel too powerful. It makes me feel crazy,” I say.
“Yeah, it’s awesome,” Shane whispers, as we watch Kace inject himself. There are a few seconds of silence, all of us waiting for Kace to get his rush.
“Shit, that dilaudid gives you a good rush. I forgot how good it is,” Kace whispers.
“I know,” I whisper back, before standing up. I walk to the exit, loath to be physically alone again, even though I feel lonely all the time. I wish I didn’t have to leave, but I know that this is another place that I am not welcome. The world is shrinking around me by the day. I am wearing out my welcome at the few places I am still allowed to go.
I need to go back to another treatment center, but life feels hopeless. More talk therapy, more 12-step meetings, more jail-rehabs, more vacation-rehabs – none of it has worked for me, and more of the same thing won’t help me. I am so hooked on these drugs; the drugs are a torrent, and every method of treatment is like a two-by-four piece of wood laying in the way. These drugs have my soul. Death is closing in on me.
“Thanks for coming out here. Be safe, brother,” Kace whispers, before closing the door behind me. I hear it lock, which hurts my feelings, even though I don’t blame him for locking me out. I’d lock me out, too.
I step out into a warm summer California night – back into a world that I don’t belong in; back into a world that doesn't want me.
Where are you going to go, Lonnie?
Not here. Anywhere but here. I start walking, and then start jogging across the street. Surprisingly, I feel no pain in my ankles at all. Jogging feels good. I make it across the street, and then keep jogging.
I jog up to my car. I open the door and get in it. I sit for a second. I check in on my body.
I feel amazing. I could run 3 miles right now. I feel great. I should keep moving.
I check in with my stomach. Although I couldn’t be less hungry, I know I need to consume some nutrients, even if they’re just liquid. I've been injecting cocaine continuously; I haven’t eaten a solid meal or slept in days.
I know what to do. I put my drugs and paraphernalia in the center console of my car. I get out of the car with only my phone, wallet, and keys in my pockets. I lock the car, checking it twice so it registers in my meth-addled brain, which is often riddled with unreasonable paranoia, that it is locked, and nobody can steal my drugs.
I start to walk away from my car, then stop mid-step. What if Kace or one of those guys comes looking for my car, knowing that it is full of drugs?
I am frozen with indecision. I notice I am licking my lips with overstimulation and force myself to stop my tongue. My heart is racing. I’m shaking with excitation. My brain is screaming at my body to do something, but I don't know what to do. They will certainly come looking for my car, hungry for more drugs.
You're being ridiculous, Lonnie. Nobody is going to steal your drugs.
I tell my feet to move. They won't move. I feel the urge to scream. I have to get away from here, I have to do something.
I start to jog again. I can get a quick workout in and get my brain to shut up at the same time. I start to jog, doing the old breathing trick I did when I was a kid trying to run the fastest 1-mile time in gym class.
I focus on my breath, to which I apply a specific breathing pattern. In, in, out. I jog, and I breathe. I jog, and then I jog faster, and my breathing sharpens – and then I jog even faster. I jog out of the neighborhood and onto the main road that connects these huge, gorgeous housing developments in Huntington Beach. I jog in the direction of a gas station that I know is just down the street from me.
I jog, and my mind turns to college basketball. I visualize myself playing in my mind, shooting 3-pointers and knowing that they’re in the hoop as soon as they leave my hand. I shoot a few more 3-pointers in my mind before losing myself completely.
The big, bright, lights, the smell of the hardwood, the sound of the ball bouncing on the floor and echoing off of every wall. The sound of solitude, and hard work, and everything that is good in life. The sound of the ball hitting nothing but net. Watching the net flip up after a perfect swish. I take myself back to some of my favorite moments playing basketball: back to Frederick, Maryland, where I scored 16 points on an overseas professional in a competitive men’s league game.
Back to West Palm Beach, Florida, where I got invited to try out for the semi-pro ABA team, the Miami Storm.
Back to Atlanta, GA, where I got made fun for doing ball handling drills with a tennis ball and then picked last, only to lead my team to victory several times in a row, scoring almost all of our points, winning in silence.
Showing up day in and day out, scoring and shooting and winning. Even when I was losing, I was getting better, so I was winning.
I press onward, jogging harder. I am going to play college basketball. Nothing is going to stop me. I notice that my shirt, which is drenched in sweat, is sticking to my skin. I peel my shirt off, barely slowing my pace. I glance up and to my right. There is a brown apartment complex. I throw my shirt in one of the bushes, making a mental note to get it out of the bush on my way back, certain that I’ll remember exactly how it landed in the bushes and precisely where it is.
I start to jog again, pretending that I have a basketball. I cross the invisible ball back and forth on the sidewalk, going out of my way to cross bushes up, crossing the imaginary ball hard and then going straight into a spin move. I lose myself in the movements. Thoughts cease, and there is nothing but my instinct telling me which dribble move to pantomime next against invisible defenders.
I stop. Why am I even going to the gas station? I should just get my car, go to 24-hour fitness, and play basketball for real. I turn around and start the journey back the way I came. I continue to run and do fake basketball moves on the shadow people. Finally, I find myself back in the residential neighborhood of Huntington Beach that my car is in.
I look around again. Is this the right neighborhood? Where am I? I walk around, looking for a landmark or something that I recognize.
There was something I was supposed to remember.
That’s right, I have to get to work. I need to find my car.
A white truck pulls up in the street next to me and stops.
That’s right, there’s a white truck coming to pick me up and take me to work! I walk up to the white truck, which has stopped in the middle of the road. Though the windows are tinted, I know that Todd is in this truck, and that he is here to pick me up to take me to Cinepolis for work. I pull on the passenger side door handle of the truck, so I can get in and go to work. The handle slips out of my hand when the door doesn’t pop open. The truck starts to drive away.
Why would Todd do that to me?! I look up at the sky. The sun is coming up? Shit, I’m going to be late for work now! I jog away from the truck. I need to go back to Todd’s house. I jog up to Todd’s house, which is the brown house right down the street. I walk up to the door and twist the doorknob. It doesn’t open.
Of course, it didn’t open, dumbass. Todd went to work.
I jog away. How am I going to get to work? I jog some more and start to feel sick.
Where am I?
“HEY! You left your stuff, like, way back there!” a random lady yells at me. I look at her, and then around at my surroundings. I don’t know where I am.
“What?” I yell back at her.
“You took your shorts off and left your stuff, like, way back there. I’ve been watching you. I think you should go home!” she yells, from across the street. I reach for my pockets.
I look down at my lower half. I have no shorts on. I am wearing nothing but black Nike compression underpants and basketball shoes. Realization strikes me like a thunderbolt: I have been running around in a state of meth-induced delusion for the entire night, playing with an invisible basketball.
I jog across the street, over to the lady.
“I’m sorry. I had a little too much to drink last night. Do you mind showing me where I left my stuff?” I ask, evaluating the woman. She is in her 40’s or 50’s, with long dark hair and a kind face. She has a small dog with her. He looks like a mutt.
“I figured. I was walking my dog, and saw you take your shorts off. I wanted to stop you when you tried to get in the truck, but I thought maybe you knew them. Then you tried to get in that house. You seemed very confused and out of it. Your pants are back this way,” she says, walking her dog down the sidewalk, back the way I came.
“Thanks,” I say, too embarrassed and ashamed to say much else. The sun is up. I try to walk naturally, like I am wearing pants instead of not wearing pants, which is a difficult thing to do. She leads me several minutes down the sidewalk, to somebody’s front yard. I see my shorts sitting in the grass in somebody’s yard, right by the sidewalk. I grab my shorts and put them on. My wallet and my phone are still in the pockets.
My keys. Shit, where are my keys?
“Do you know where my keys are?” I ask the woman, too embarrassed to look her in the eyes.
“No. I saw you take off your shorts here. I’ve been watching you, and I’m sure I’m not the only one. I wouldn’t be surprised if police are on their way,” she says, her eyebrows raised at me knowingly.
“Ok. Well, thanks for your help. I’m going to go. My house is in the neighborhood over there,” I lie, pointing further away from her and walking away. The word “police” forces me into action. I powerwalk until she is out of sight, and then I start to jog again.
Jog faster, Lonnie. Train harder.
No. I have to slow down. I’m becoming psychotic from overexertion, lack of nutrition, sleep deprivation, and methamphetamine. I have no drugs on me. I can slow down.
I force myself to start walking. I become aware, again, of my racing heart. It has been beating like this for days on end. It could easily explode and kill me at any second. Wait, when was the last time I did any opioids? The furanylfentanyl has been making me dopesick within 6 hours. I search my body for opioid effects. There are none.
I’m in the no man’s land between the opioid high and the withdrawal where I actually feel normal. The more I binge, the shorter the breaks become, and I’ve been binging, hard. If I feel normal now, that means I’ll be dopesick any second. I whine out loud. I want to scream up at the sky. My stomach starts to hurt terribly – it feels like it is bleeding.
I am dying.
I open my phone’s GPS and set it to my old sober living.
Shit, I don’t have a car key. I can’t get into my car! I call a locksmith, and then I start to run back towards the ironically named ‘sober living.’
I attempt to cling to reality.
My name is Lonnie. I am in Huntington Beach. I am going to Jack’s sober living, so I can do some fentanyl, so I don’t get dopesick. I did some meth, and I haven’t slept or ate in days, so I might hallucinate. Hallucinations aren’t real.
My name is Lonnie. I am in Huntington beach. I went to Florida for rehab for sniffing oxy, and I started to shoot dope. I came to California to stop shooting dope and picked up a meth habit.
STOP!
My name is Lonnie. The world would be better off if I were dead.
I start to walk. I can’t take this. I need some music. No, playing music would be suspicious. I start to jog again, trying not to think about my racing heart. I should focus on my breathing.
No, I can’t do that. That’s what made me go psychotic.
My name is Lonnie. I am going back to Jack’s sober living…