Gods Dammit Dad!

I had another great day with my Dad. We had to go back to Kidwelly to get some measurements we missed last time we went to (what will soon be) my parents new home. We decided to come through Carmarthen on the way back to see if I could grab an unlocked phone from a good price from their Game store. We reasoned that it would have a bigger store and a better selection, since it’s a bigger city.

The Kidwelly mission went well, in fact it went much better than we expected. Stuart from Extreme Tree Services was already at the house cutting back the overgrown vegetation. Dad got a chance to go over some of what they wanted done, which was lucky because we had no idea that they were going to be there! The house is getting fixed up for us by the Church in Wales, since Dad is moving to Kidwelly to minister at St. Mary’s (and I think he’ll be in charge of a few others also). They arranged for Stuart to come this week. It was just luck or divine providence that had us show up while they were there. We even found out that, hidden among the overgrown trees was a plastic playhouse for the kids!

We popped into Burn’s Farm Shop on the way out of town. Dad needed his coffee levels restored. You may recall me describing their amazing playground and cafe in a previous article. Follow the ‘last time’ link above if you don’t. 🙂 As I waiting for Dad to order his coffee. A waitress looked up at me and smiled. She did so again later when she came to our table with Dad’s order. She’s a cute little redhead. Dad noticed the smile.

Burn's Farm Shop Playground.JPG

I’m 36 and living with my parents. I have no job, and no money until my writing career takes off. To make my writing career take off I need to spend time, everyday, working on my writing and developing my stories. In the short term I need to start writing short stories and getting them out to magazines that will pay me for them. I don’t have time, or even have anything to offer, for a romantic relationship right now.

If Dad had said nothing, I might have been able to forget that smile, that giggle in response to a throwaway line that wasn’t really funny. When Dad hints, he doesn’t just make one subtle comment. He stacks them up. Layer upon layer of subtle comments until he’s sure you get it, and then adds a couple more to be sure. Dammit Dad! It was a really cute smile though. I know we didn’t see her there last time. I don’t know her name. I need to stop thinking about her.

The rest of the day went well. I got myself a handset for the sim Mum is going to order. It’s an LG G4 Stylus. Still had all the factory stickers on it. Once I get the sim card I’ll have an awesome and fully functioning phone! I also got a new pair of clippers to replace the American ones that went pop when I last tried to use them.

Space Marine
Dakka-dakka!

We even visited the local Games Workshop store where Mike (or is it Mark? Sorry!) and I had a good little talk about the possibility of rebuilding my Golden Sons Space Marine army. I had to sell them off to buy my plane ticket home. He even suggested I write for the Black Library (Games Workshop’s publishing house), which would be freaking awesome!

I’m really looking forward to the move to Kidwelly. I’ll be just a short train ride from Carmarthen so that I can mix it up with my fellow Warhammer geeks, perhaps get a few of them to follow my blog! We’ll be just around the corner from the Farm Shop though too. Trying to find the cute waitress again would be a terrible idea. I’ll just have to avoid the place to prevent myself from doing anything foolish. Especially since I won’t be there that long.

Dad wants to watch a movie together, and then I have to get working on a short story. Should I do the War on Magic? Throw some of my City of Gate chronicles together? Or should I write out the hold-up scene for The Lord Highwayman as a stand-alone short story? I could even do something Church of Daemonism related. What do you think?

If you make any comments regarding the redhead, please just tell me she has a boyfriend so I can drop it and move on. I have writing to do!

 

The Golden Suns – updated

Update – Sorry guys, the miniatures are now sold, but that doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy the article! 🙂

I’m trying to sell my Warhammer 40k armies today. Iron Warriors, and another Chaos Space Marine army I called the Golden Sons. I heard from someone earlier in the week who seemed interested, but now I can’t get a hold of him.

Anyone else want them? I’m throwing in my bitz box, modelling tools, green stuff, codices, rulebooks and any other 40k related items I have. It all has to go, before I leave the country on Thursday 7/21/16. This doesn’t give me a long time, so I’ll take almost any reasonable offer at this point.

Everything written below this line was first published in the article “Going, Going, Gone!

___

It may not surprise you to learn that I put a lot of time and effort creating a backstory for my Golden Sons (Chaos) Space Marines. It began back when I was in college, when my friend Ash and I would play Inquisitor. My warband consisted of Inquisitor Rath, Techpriest Zeophyle, bipedal gunbot called Tank, Brother Martyn of the Black Eagles chapter and Talon, his mutant birdman friend.

Inquisitor Rath was a radical. He saw heresy and treachery everywhere he looked, and he began to observe patterns in the sequence of traitorous behavior in his particular region of space. He studied this pattern and began visiting planets he suspected would be the next to succumb to the touch of chaos. He quashed several rebellions, insurrections, cults, conspiracies and covens, but despite his efforts the infection seemed to be spreading. He needed an army.

20160714_064822
Classic and modern Warhammer 40k roleplay rules.

He consulted a tech-priest he’d been holding in custody, suspected of chaos worship. He’d long concluded that Tech-priest Xeophyle was not corrupted, just so devoted to the machine god that humans were just variables and test subjects to him. Zeophyle happened to know a Rogue Trader that could get a hold of some geneseed. The Rogue Trader actually had quite the selection, and Rath confiscated all of it and then charged Zeophyle with creating a new chapter of Space Marines. The Black Eagles. Their black and white armor meant to honor the light of the Emperor and the funereal darkness of mourning his loss.

Martyn was the first to survive the process. A zealous young man who believed as Rath did, that there was a network of traitors and heretics working together to undermine the Imperium from within. More Space Marines were made from a cocktail of Martyn’s dna and extracts from several geneseed samples. All loving spliced together under Techpriest Zeophyle’s supervision by his growing pool of bots and servitors.

The new Black Eagles chapter begin delivering blitzkrieg assaults on planets suspected of potential heresy. Other members of the Inquisition got wind of this and called Rath to the conclave. Rath saw this as his opportunity to show his accomplishments to his fellow Inquisitors, and had Brother Martyn and Techpriest Xeophyle accompany him. He was surprised when the conclave interrupted his manic explanation of the algorithm that can track and map and predict the spread of heresy, and were branded witches and traitors themselves. The three of them managed to escape because the rest of the chapter had tracked the pattern to the conclave itself, and warp jumped directly into orbit, initiating the first wave of the assault as it materialised.

dave_gallagher_inquisitor_gruendvald
Inquisitor Gruendvald. Not appearing in this story.

The battle was intense. The battle-barge of the Black Eagles limped into the warp, barely intact, and seemed to explode as it entered the rift in space. Rath, Martyn and Xeophyle managed to get away during the conflict in a smaller Imperial vessel, accompanied by Talon, the mutant that helped them escape. The Inquisitor continued his mission, most worlds never realised he was rogue, excommunicate traitoris, a fugitive from the Imperial Inquisition. Thanks to the techpriest his Inquisitorial seal always passed any scans.

Meanwhile the surviving battle brothers had crashed on a world in warp space. The Black Eagles were concerned that they had landed on a daemon world, but to their surprise they found an Imperial Fortress Monastery, occupied by the Golden Sons. These Space Marines wore armor or pure white with a golden trim. They had been garrisoned here since before the Horus Heresy and claimed to be one of the unrecorded first founding legions. Their existence scrubbed out of history for necessity’s sake.

40k,_Astartes,_Black_Dragon_Fortress_Monastery
Not the Golden Sons’ Fortress Monastery. This one belongs to the Black Dragons.

Only a few hundred of them remained due to centuries of war against bands of Chaos Space Marines, wild marauders, daemons, and various other monstrosities. Even their beloved Primarch was lost. The Black Eagles joined their ranks, submitting to a test of purity and piety before they were allowed to, and the Golden Sons helped them repair their battlebarge.

Soon the Golden Sons were raiding chaos strongholds both within the warp and without. Saving loyal marines that had been captured, left for dead, or pressed into service by terrifying chaos-warped masters. These rescued space marines were subject to the same tests of purity and piety that the Black Eagles had done, and those that survived joined the Golden Sons. They even rescued Martyn, Zeophyle and Talon from the clutches of the corrupt Inquisition. Rath did not make it.

800px-Space_Marine_Battle_Barge
A Battle-barge

Wargear was also seized, cleansed, blessed, salvaged and made serviceable by the joint efforts of the Golden Son’s Chaplain and Techmarine Zeophyle. With help from the Apothecary-Librarian, Zeophyle had devised a way to ensure he’d survive the process of becoming a Space Marine.

Martyn and Talon began leading the strike forces. When the two of them began to grow larger, many were concerned that chaos had corrupted them both, but after heavy interrogation they were found to be free of corruption. In fact Martyn had developed the ability to burn the touch of Chaos from artifacts and people. The people rarely survived, but it was still considered a miracle, and a blessing bestowed upon him by the Emperor of mankind.

The majority of the Golden Sons still believe they are doing the Emperor’s will. The inner circle think this is hilarious.

So that’s the fluff. And now here’s a slideshow of some of my favorite conversions for the Golden Sons army, and some other random minis. Not pictured are the Helbrutes, Heldrake, separate army of Iron Warriors and my bitz box! It’s all got to go. I’d like $200, I’d settle for less. If you see anything you like, contact me and make me an offer.Email: copeland.tony@gmail.com.Facebook: www.facebook.com/copeland.tony. Text: 608-304-4157.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

Going, Going, Gone! – updated

My mission is going well. I’ve just sold my Magic the Gathering card collection to River City Hobbies here in La Crosse. I may take my graphic novels, my xbox 360, games and dvds there too. I want to give everyone a chance to buy them first though. That and I’m not quite ready to stop playing Skyrim yet!

I’m $100 closer to getting my flight home paid for. If you’d like to help me and you live too far away to buy my stuff, you can easily do so via Paypal.

I also need to get rid of all my Warhammer 40k stuff. I have lots of miniatures and bits that I can’t take with me. Well. I could, but it would take up space in my luggage that I need for clothes and my toothbrush. Oh, and all my notebooks, about half a suitcase worth.

Update – Sorry guys, the miniatures are now sold, but that doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy the rest of the article! 🙂

If you’re not into the tabletop battle game Warhammer 40,000 (In the Grim Darkness of the Far Future, there is only WAR!!), you about to have no idea at all what I’m talking about.

It may not surprise you to learn that I put a lot of time and effort creating a backstory for my Golden Sons (Chaos) Space Marines. It began back when I was in college, when my friend Ash and I would play Inquisitor. My warband consisted of Inquisitor Rath, Techpriest Zeophyle, bipedal gunbot called Tank, Brother Martyn of the Black Eagles chapter and Talon, his mutant birdman friend.

Inquisitor Rath was a radical. He saw heresy and treachery everywhere he looked, and he began to observe patterns in the sequence of traitorous behavior in his particular region of space. He studied this pattern and began visiting planets he suspected would be the next to succumb to the touch of chaos. He quashed several rebellions, insurrections, cults, conspiracies and covens, but despite his efforts the infection seemed to be spreading. He needed an army.

20160714_064822
Classic and modern Warhammer 40k roleplay rules.

He consulted a tech-priest he’d been holding in custody, suspected of chaos worship. He’d long concluded that Tech-priest Xeophyle was not corrupted, just so devoted to the machine god that humans were just variables and test subjects to him. Zeophyle happened to know a Rogue Trader that could get a hold of some geneseed. The Rogue Trader actually had quite the selection, and Rath confiscated all of it and then charged Zeophyle with creating a new chapter of Space Marines. The Black Eagles. Their black and white armor meant to honor the light of the Emperor and the funereal darkness of mourning his loss.

Martyn was the first to survive the process. A zealous young man who believed as Rath did, that there was a network of traitors and heretics working together to undermine the Imperium from within. More Space Marines were made from a cocktail of Martyn’s dna and extracts from several geneseed samples. All loving spliced together under Techpriest Zeophyle’s supervision by his growing pool of bots and servitors.

The new Black Eagles chapter begin delivering blitzkrieg assaults on planets suspected of potential heresy. Other members of the Inquisition got wind of this and called Rath to the conclave. Rath saw this as his opportunity to show his accomplishments to his fellow Inquisitors, and had Brother Martyn and Techpriest Xeophyle accompany him. He was surprised when the conclave interrupted his manic explanation of the algorithm that can track and map and predict the spread of heresy, and were branded witches and traitors themselves. The three of them managed to escape because the rest of the chapter had tracked the pattern to the conclave itself, and warp jumped directly into orbit, initiating the first wave of the assault as it materialised.

dave_gallagher_inquisitor_gruendvald
Inquisitor Gruendvald. Not appearing in this story.

The battle was intense. The battle-barge of the Black Eagles limped into the warp, barely intact, and seemed to explode as it entered the rift in space. Rath, Martyn and Xeophyle managed to get away during the conflict in a smaller Imperial vessel, accompanied by Talon, the mutant that helped them escape. The Inquisitor continued his mission, most worlds never realised he was rogue, excommunicate traitoris, a fugitive from the Imperial Inquisition. Thanks to the techpriest his Inquisitorial seal always passed any scans.

Meanwhile the surviving battle brothers had crashed on a world in warp space. The Black Eagles were concerned that they had landed on a daemon world, but to their surprise they found an Imperial Fortress Monastery, occupied by the Golden Sons. These Space Marines wore armor or pure white with a golden trim. They had been garrisoned here since before the Horus Heresy and claimed to be one of the unrecorded first founding legions. Their existence scrubbed out of history for necessity’s sake.

40k,_Astartes,_Black_Dragon_Fortress_Monastery
Not the Golden Sons’ Fortress Monastery. This one belongs to the Black Dragons.

Only a few hundred of them remained due to centuries of war against bands of Chaos Space Marines, wild marauders, daemons, and various other monstrosities. Even their beloved Primarch was lost. The Black Eagles joined their ranks, submitting to a test of purity and piety before they were allowed to, and the Golden Sons helped them repair their battlebarge.

Soon the Golden Sons were raiding chaos strongholds both within the warp and without. Saving loyal marines that had been captured, left for dead, or pressed into service by terrifying chaos-warped masters. These rescued space marines were subject to the same tests of purity and piety that the Black Eagles had done, and those that survived joined the Golden Sons. They even rescued Martyn, Zeophyle and Talon from the clutches of the corrupt Inquisition. Rath did not make it.

800px-Space_Marine_Battle_Barge
A Battle-barge

Wargear was also seized, cleansed, blessed, salvaged and made serviceable by the joint efforts of the Golden Son’s Chaplain and Techmarine Zeophyle. With help from the Apothecary-Librarian, Zeophyle had devised a way to ensure he’d survive the process of becoming a Space Marine.

Martyn and Talon began leading the strike forces. When the two of them began to grow larger, many were concerned that chaos had corrupted them both, but after heavy interrogation they were found to be free of corruption. In fact Martyn had developed the ability to burn the touch of Chaos from artifacts and people. The people rarely survived, but it was still considered a miracle, and a blessing bestowed upon him by the Emperor of mankind.

The majority of the Golden Sons still believe they are doing the Emperor’s will. The inner circle think this is hilarious.

So that’s the fluff. And now here’s a slideshow of some of my favorite conversions for the Golden Sons army, and some other random minis. Not pictured are the Helbrutes, Heldrake, separate army of Iron Warriors and my bitz box! It’s all got to go. I’d like $200, I’d settle for less. If you see anything you like, contact me and make me an offer. Email: copeland.tony@gmail.com. Facebook: www.facebook.com/copeland.tony. Text: 608-304-4157.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

..Just a Rat in a Cage.

I had an idea for a post on the way to work called “Time to Think like an Entrepreneur” that would be targeted toward LinkedIn and other would-be clients lurking on Facebook. I thought of this other article on the way back home. So tonight you’re getting two articles. You lucky bastards!

This article is sort of a continuation from “Daemonic Aspirations” in which I talk about a hypothetical Church of Daemonism that  would believe if you’re going to go to hell anyway, better to be a demon than a tortured soul. One thing I forgot to mention in the previous article, is that Bumble originally suggested that I, as the hypothetical reverse priest character (a tseirp, ts, like tsunami, -eeurp) could curse everyone to Damnation first to encourage people to sign up for a fast track to demonhood!

It occurred to me that, if I were to use this in a story, it’d be fun to have the main character suffer from an ironic twist of fate. What if he truly was condemned to go to heaven? Hand picked by God Almighty to draw out the wolves from his flock. That no matter how hard he tried to piss God off, he was actually still doing God’s work. Hell, after all, was Lucifer’s prison after he rebelled. It makes sense that God would encourage the worst humanity has to offer to go to Hell. People who have already decided they’re going to Hell aren’t going to listen to one of God’s own servants though. They’d need someone they saw as a true spiritual leader. Someone who they empathise and connect with.

Let’s face it. There are some really fucking stupid reasons to go to Hell. It was once considered sinful to be left handed. Some still consider it sinful to find people of your own chromosomal gender sexually, or even just physically, attractive. Yes, there’s a difference. For example, so far I have only found woman to be sexually attractive. I’m a big fan of breasts in particular. Since birth in fact. I also tend to find the female form physically attractive, meaning I find it enjoyable to look at, as if it were a work of art. There are some rare men though, who admittedly all have an androgynous quality, that I also find somewhat appealing to look at.

If god truly did create everything, and we are supposed to appreciate and revere his creation, why would it be a sin to appreciate beauty? Pretty people exist in both genders! Fricking shrimp were once convinced sinful to consume. That’s been explained away as a way to discourage people from eating food that could kill them if not prepared correctly, since ancient shellfish were presumably riddled with parasites and diseases. I call bullshit. Shrimp, or King Prawn as people from the old country call them, are sinfully delicious. I think, if God did truly existed in the way he’s meant to, it’s entirely within his biblical character to condemn someone to eternal pain and torture, just for eating one of the tastiest animals He ever fucking created! Just to make sure we were following the rules, no matter how meaningless and unjust those rules are.

Adam and Eve were branded sinners for falling for an obvious trap. Followers of God happily burned people at the stake, satisfied in the knowledge that they are doing His work. While those unfortunate, sometimes innocent, men women and children were publicly tortured to death. I have no doubt that they did also burn people practising the old ways. People who believed in personal power and self confidence. Proud pagans. Of course I may be biased in my opinion, but I’m entitled to it regardless. Again, to clarify, we’re discussing a story character and idea. I’m not trying to even remotely trying to convince you that God is an asshole. Nor do I intend to slightly imply that God is watching us navigate a clusterfuck of obstacles, temptations and downright traps for his own amusement, or even suggest he’s taking any notice at all.

Hey Father! Yahweh! Asshole Bastard Twat-faced Wanker! Go Fuck Yourself!

Hell-worthy-pursuits
Hell worthy pursuits. Guilty of a few of these.

Shouldn’t he be making an example of me by now? Striking me with lightning or turning me to salt? Either he’s not paying attention anymore, or he’s grown more subtle. Punishing me with crippling debt and demeaning offers of help. Perhaps he handed the reigns over to his Son, and now Jesus is minding the store. That might explain why we now have a gentler kinder God. A live and let live god. A god that would rather sit back and watch us suffer rather than intervene. Maybe that’s what the Church would really be for. To protect the meek. Make those that won’t play His game choose to band together, give the bad men a place to express themselves, buy themselves a surefire one-way ticket to Hell, and perhaps even sacrifice themselves/ kill each other. Another elaborate trap. Sneaky Bastard. It would probably drive those who fear the Church of Daemonism further into his suffocating embrace. Working for God anyway. Despite all my rage.

Daemonic Aspirations

For those that are easily disturbed by talk of demons and hell, fear not, this was simply a mental exercise.

My friend Bumble and I record a podcast called The Masquerade with Bumble and the Brit. It’s very silly and nerdy, and I love it. The subject of religion came up. As you may recall I love discussing religion, especially the expanded mythos. For example, the Christian religion has some interesting ideas about Angels and Demons that don’t originate from the modern Bible. In fact the image of hell has gained more inspiration from Dante’s Inferno, Paradise Lost, and underworld legends from older systems of belief.

Regardless of the origins of Hell, the majority of Christians believe that sinners and unbelievers will go there after they die. That may very well include me, if what a street evangelist in Lancaster, England told me is true. She was quite certain that, no matter what I had done, God would welcome me back with open arms. That is unless I had blasphemed against the Holy Spirit. That, she said, was an unforgivable sin.

I'm Doomed
So I’m doomed.

I have done so, years before the woman in Lancaster gave me a look of heartbroken disappointment, and walked away. I had been a devout little Christian boy my whole life, I was in the Choir, and then an Altar boy after I was confirmed (Anglican Church, not Catholic). I had never really needed God for anything though. There were always parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles, and teachers there to help me out and make me feel protected and loved. Even the police were trusted adults that made me feel safe. It’s a shame that I assumed this was God’s love I was feeling, because those people who were there for me deserve far more respect and appreciation than I ever gave them. This article may upset a few of them since many of them are still believers, despite my disclaimers.

When I was about 15, and my Sister was 13, my parents went through a rough patch. They separated. It was an odd separation. Grandma Copeland, my Dad’s Mother, was already living next door so that we could keep an eye on her. My Dad moved into her guest bedroom, right next door. What happened afterwards was an adorable reconciliation, and my parents got back together. During this time though, my Sister and I were there for them. Being a somewhat typical fifteen year-old, my emotions were in flux, and felt very sorry for myself that I had no-one to turn to about them. Even the teachers seemed too busy to deal with me. I felt lonely, unloved. All very dramatic. I asked for a sign from God that I was not alone, and felt nothing, heard nothing. So I told the whole damned Trinity, Father, Son and Holy Spirit, to go fuck themselves.

My Dad is a wonderful Man, but he made a rather dramatic change in his life also. He had been an Atheist. One of the cited reasons for the separation, was that Mum felt that Dad didn’t respect her Christian faith. He had begun going to an Alpha course at the Church I had once attended, to learn more about Jesus. It was during one of these meetings that my Dad saw an Angel. A brilliant living light, the rays stretched like wings. It seemed frustratingly unfair. After the rough patch had ended, every discussion I had with my Father about the old stories, the old beliefs, became an attempt to save my soul.

My Dad, of course, thinks the Lancaster lady was wrong. That I’m guaranteed a spot in heaven, whether I like it or not, because I’ve been confirmed. This, ironically, made me more determined not to follow a God that would resort to such trickery to secure souls! Condemned to Heaven, because I was naive. He can absolutely go Fuck Hisselves. Why would I want to go to Heaven if I have no choice? I’d rather go to Hell on general principle! So this brings us to what I was originally intending to discuss.

heaven

Again. Mental exercise. None of this is to be taken seriously. If we are going to Hell, it’s a choice we make in life. It seems to me that, if you’ve made that choice, that you don’t want to get there and find that you are to be tortured for eternity by demons. It’s accepted by most that the Demons are comprised not just of fallen Angels and entities spawned from the dark void, but also some of the cruelest souls from history. Monsters that were once man.

Wouldn’t you rather be a torturer than among the tortured? If you happen to like the idea of being tortured, your torture may, in fact, to be a torturer instead! Regardless, it’s better to be able to choose, than be a slave to the whims of others. It was suggested, during the podcast, that this could be the basis for a lucrative new religion! 🙂 Like minded sinners can hang out, compare stories of their misadventures, teach classes about certain sinful activities, basically does everything he can to prove ourselves the most worthy of daemonhood.

2016-06-30 11.23.47

The churchgoers would be encouraged to help keep the church going, the recommended tithe being 10% of their income, on autopay. Attempts to gain power and influence, and summon daemonic patrons, through majical means or otherwise, will be actively encouraged. Church money would be readily available to anyone who needs it, on the understanding that the Church is entitled to maintain enough cash in the coffers to keep the place going, the founders well paid, and to be able to pay for other unexpected fees. Chances are that, as the Church gains notoriety certain religious and political groups would have to be paid off. Bribes and lawsuits aren’t going to be cheap! 3:)

Funnily enough, the conversation began because Bumble was suggesting I wear a white shirt with a black collar and call myself a Tsierp! That’s ‘ts’ as in ‘tsunami’. This is because my Dad is now a Priest, a Vicar technically, with a black shirt and white collar. I can’t imagine myself in white, but I could totally rock my Dad’s look! I’d give it my own twist of course, but it would be predominantly black. Perhaps it would become a popular practice among our church-goers to wear white dog-collars, chokers, or ties, against a black shirt to identify each other. If you want to add some color, you could go with a Cardinal’s red, or Bishop’s purple.

hadesunderworld_gow

If people do begin doing this though, I shall assume of course that they are in on the joke and don’t actually take any of this seriously. I shall also only accept any money sent to me as a show of support for my writing career, and not a tithe toward the Church. After all, I’m just a fiction writer. All of this is just imaginative speculation. What power could I possibly have to ensure daemonhood or curse you to eternal slavery and torture?

Seriously though. This could be a great sub-premise for a story! Thanks Bumble!

Click here if you don’t want to lose your drone!