Regal ware food tote
How I'm going about living in my car..
2024.04.28 21:14 PositiveSignature592 How I'm going about living in my car..
So started this back in November 2023 to finish school ( aircraft technician) out in Clearwater Florida. I put all my important things in a storage small 5x5 and kept what I needed for the week in my car cloth,hygiene bag,shoes,water and food I just grab stuff from Sam's club like the $5 chicken or the little ready to eat meals they have and heat it up at a circle or 711. If your in Clearwater Florida DM where to sleep don't want to give out spots,don't know who's reading these but anyway I ended up graduating. Got a job at Boeing south carolina north Charleston been here since April 17 2024, found a cross fit gym has a shower there every morning 7am ( I'm a big dude 315 lbs 5"8 goal is to lose weight and get my credit up and buy a house to move my mother in) also getting a planet fitness membership for showering at random times. My job schedule is from 3 to12am. Anyway I removed my passenger seat have a rolling tote there and four calapsabke storage square one for socks and underwear one for gym shirts, one for regular shirts pant for work and the last one for random shit my laundry bag is a army duffle bag that I can zip up so it don't smell I try to do my laundry when I can not just at the end of the week but every Sunday like today April 28,2024 I did some organizing. My back seats are put down I have one of them fold up mattresses a sheet a body pillow and two large firm black pillows I have a net for storage the hools to the handles on roof awesome little investment. I have a battery backup for my phone and also a hanging rechargeable fan for at night time still gets hot but better than nothing also I bought shades that hook to the lining on the roof of the vehicle so that I don't show that I'm living in my car by pinching sheets or shirts to my car door. I'm thinking once a week a month to get a week at an extended stay just to recharge. Also want to invest more into my sleeping arrangement in the back of my car sonits.more comfy and more cool south carolina is hot and getting.hotter anytime would be awesome. Anyway that's all for now have a blessed day wild ones we got this!!!
submitted by PositiveSignature592 to carliving [link] [comments]
2024.04.28 19:45 Grouchy_Concert5333 Question about bags
Kinda new to DD and just bought a larger bag and a pizza bag (not DD brand) since the ones they give out suck, do I have to contact support to let them know I can take larger orders now? The only orders i’ve gotten so far out of 30 ish were red card orders, smaller food orders, or occasional double dashes that I can just barely fit the 2 bags into the DD thermo tote.
submitted by Grouchy_Concert5333 to doordash_drivers [link] [comments]
2024.04.28 05:46 Available_Thoughts-0 The Zombie Apocalypse is Triggered by Black Magic dragging various elements from video games into our reality. You are one of the lucky longer term Survivors. You stumble across a Fortress, but must prove yourself to stay. (More details in the comments section: photos mostly* for interest.)
 | During a perfectly ordinary global flu pandemic, (Not COVID or something like that, just the ordinary global pandemic that happens almost every year of garden varieties of the flu which we've been handling like bosses since the 1940’s or so), something goes horribly wrong with someone messing with super fucking bad black magic hodoo shit that's they absolutely weren't supposed to touch, and it summons and blended together almost every major type of survival based open world game that has ever been created by humanity with the same thing resuarding all the zombie apocalypse games, and the real world we currently live in. submitted by Available_Thoughts-0 to ZombieSurvivalTactics [link] [comments] At first mostly the zombies are more likely to be closer to the ones from the early Romero movies, or The Walking Dead, with the weakness to direct and unfiltered sunlight from Minecraft, though; but they instinctively try to hide from the sun, and don't burn so much as evaporate slowly into a poisonous greasy blackish-green smoke when exposed. Things like huge amounts of UV light don't do anything like that either, this is Hodoo magic bullshit, not science: and bouncing the sunlight with mirrors or something is unpredictable. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't, no rhyme or reason for it doing one or the other in any specific instance, but the one thing you can predict is that there's a sharp drop-off in likelihood of effect with each “Bounce”. However, every single thing a zombie kills makes it mutate/develop a tiny bit, and nothing does it more than killing a human being, which will cause massive updates each time. Now, at first, they develop randomly, but eventually the random selection will result in a reemergence of intelligence and then they can control how they develop from there. Intelligent Zombies also are almost always seen on an intuitive level by other zombies as “Alpha” of the group, and can direct others with hand gestures and body language and such to perform basic tactics, like, (In gestures), “You five go around that way, kill. You five that other way, kill. Everyone else, follow me and attack whoever I do.” Furthermore, they experience an instinct of icy-cold RAGE toward any living thing that they encounter which is not A: a plant/fungus, B: A lower level lifeform beneath their notice, (worms, most insects/small crustaceans, germs), or C: either someone or something that they already cared about while alive or that has helped them out in meaningful ways after becoming a zombie. This is different from the more “hot” RAGE experienced by most living things, and doesn't cloud their judgment as much, but still compelling to seek out the destruction and death of whatever enrages them. At first the “advanced” zombies are almost exclusively not smart and even then number less than 1/1,000,000, but with everyone who had any kind of flu, cold, or something like that dying during “The Rise” and becoming a Zed, (including some kinds of pets and things which are infected by disease that can cross to human beings), there's a catastrophic death-toll. You survived those first few months of the outbreak and eventually, after a long time wandering, followed a radio signal to a fortress 🏯 / city 🏙️ built into, around, and atop a mountain. (If you are in the north Eastern quadrant of the contiguous USA it will be Blair Mountain in West Virginia, but I want to hear from other people elsewhere in the world where they think they would find this fortress.) The people who have built it and live there are friendly and welcoming, and will nurture you back to health from starvation or whatever else you might be dealing with, but they have a kinda weird religion or cultural development or political philosophy or something like that. These people are warriors, who believe that their fortress is some kind of divine gift that you must EARN the right of living there. To do it, they require everyone to leave their fortress for a while and make a Cairn out of the severed heads of at least 100 Zombies. (Dead zombies rot, but don't evaporate in the sun, whereas ones which are still undead evaporate but don't rot.) The bigger the Cairn and more exotic the Zed skulls in it, the more respected and honored you would be afterwards. As proof you also have to guide some of the veterans to the cairn and regale them with your Saga of how you killed each zombie. The heads will definitely be counted during the process, so you should probably plan on at least some margin for error. (120 is generally considered a pretty safe bet that you have enough.) After that, you can return to the fortress and do whatever, there's always somewhat more jobs than people who can do them, at least for now. However, to prepare you for your journey, you are taken into a specific room in the fortress and told to meditate in order to receive “plans and blueprints” for tools to aid your journey. The room is heavily decorated with carved sigils, glyphs, icons, letters, runes and kanjis that one-by-one Start to glow as you meditate until in a blinding flare of light you find yourself surrounded by 64 thin books hand bound out of various random pieces of paper which disappear after reading but engrave permanently into your memory the steps you need to take and items you must have for making something like a crafting workbench for some task or something like that. At least one of them must relate to all of the “Standard Statistics” of the world after the change: Numin, Onna, Wisdom, Strength, Perception, Endurance, Charisma, Intelligence, Agility, Luck, Stamina, Constitution, Rage, Appearance, Manipulation, or Dexterity. (Don't worry about what those mean, exactly, the definitions are pretty easy to understand except for ones that overlap somewhat, and again, don't worry about it too much, but two of them do require a little bit of explanation, Numin is masculine mystical energy/power whereas Onna is feminine mystical energy/power: for obvious reasons more women have a strong Onna stat than men and vice versa with Numin, altho many exceptions exist. Onna is more about subtlety and concealment, as well as healing and the elements of air, wood, and water, whereas Numin is more dealing with sudden appearances / illumination / revelations, creating permanent things like weapons, armor, and structures*, and the elements of fire, earth, and metal: neither one is “Stronger”, but they are different, and one might be more suitable situationally.) *(as opposed to things made to be used up and consumed, food and drink, including magical ones like potions, as an example, which is more Onna’s thing: it is worth noting that they must work together to create both a gun and it's ammunition, numin can do everything there, EXCEPT for the propellant for the bullets, without which they are useless), Pick any 64 crafting recipes from any survival game, these are the ones that are stored in your way stone, which lets you set up a campsite wherever you go with your crafting benches and so on. It is a small white obelisk covered in faintly glowing runes and such that weighs around a pound. You set it on bare soil or rock to Start the campsite, then say a short prayer for it to pull everything back into itself for you to move on when you want to relocate. ALL recipes are counted amongst the numbers, including different types of walls and such, but not modifications to them. (So different walls, different recipes, but not different WALLPAPERS, or different types of guns are different, but not different scopes to attach to it, or different bayonets: use your best judgment.) There's one last limitation, other than obviously magic things that make no pretense of being anything else, everything has to obey presently understood physics, more-or-less, (Cure-all “Antibiotics” works, plasma rifles don't, yes potions, no diamond swords), but craftable magic, go nuts, that's magic: You ain't gotta explain SHIT. Different things from different games mostly “Play Nice” together, but if you enchant a gun from fallout with a Minecraft enchanting table, well, results will be generally favorable, but also unpredictable. Send me your builds! *(Photos also used as examples of possible selections.) |
2024.04.28 05:39 No_Assignment3704 Disgusting unit - what would you do?
Won a lien storage unit for $200, 10’x20’. This is my 6th unit, so I’ve seen some things - drugs, used tampons, dirty needles, even a jug of old urine. This is unit is just… unimaginably disgusting. Someone was obviously living in it for a while. There is a pile of black sludge and slime of what used to be food. Thousands of cigarette butts, gallons and gallons of urine, moldy clothing, and tons of totes with rotting food. The person had hot wired the one outlet to multiple different batteries and things like a fireplace, making the entire thing a massive fire hazard.
I have cleaned out about half of it but I’m really considering just saying fuck it and walking away. I got the feeling something was up when paying for it - dad/son owners, super dirty office closet, and when the son asked what unit we got, the dad replied “that 10x20” with an almost grin. My husband and I got the feeling something was up but obviously didn’t know what yet.
So, what would you do?
submitted by No_Assignment3704 to Flipping [link] [comments]
I have cleaned out about half of it but I’m really considering just saying fuck it and walking away. I got the feeling something was up when paying for it - dad/son owners, super dirty office closet, and when the son asked what unit we got, the dad replied “that 10x20” with an almost grin. My husband and I got the feeling something was up but obviously didn’t know what yet.
So, what would you do?
2024.04.28 00:14 deniss_1996 GladWare Deep Dish Food Storage Containers - 64oz, 3-Count Set, BPA-Free 6 Packs (18 Total) $15.90 @ Amazon
submitted by deniss_1996 to amzndeals [link] [comments]
2024.04.27 22:45 BroMandi [Amazon] GladWare Deep Dish Food Storage Containers - 64oz, 3-Count Set, BPA-Free 6 Packs (18 Total) $15.90 @ Amazon [Deal: $15.90, Actual: $36.99]
![[Amazon] GladWare Deep Dish Food Storage Containers - 64oz, 3-Count Set, BPA-Free 6 Packs (18 Total) $15.90 @ Amazon [Deal: $15.90, Actual: $36.99]](https://preview.redd.it/pisqme6h33xc1.jpeg?width=320&crop=smart&auto=webp&s=1ba47b70cc4b7e03761fc592c08e9ecef5b837fe "[Amazon] GladWare Deep Dish Food Storage Containers - 64oz, 3-Count Set, BPA-Free 6 Packs (18 Total) $15.90 @ Amazon [Deal: $15.90, Actual: $36.99]") | submitted by BroMandi to RedditShoppingDeals [link] [comments] |
2024.04.27 22:34 OwnAbbreviations2612 Please roast my resume
 | Im currently an Ontario uni student who cant find any job submitted by OwnAbbreviations2612 to resumesupport [link] [comments] I have applied 100s of times to fast food, retail, cleaning positions, cineplex, grocery stores, hard ware stores, restaurants, etc etc etc etc This is a rough overview of my resume. I do change it each time for the specific job but this is what is usually on it. I have tried taking out the education section too at times but that i also didnt work. Not sure what im doing wrong tbh. Please be as brutal as you want about it. I need help improving it. I just get the automatic rejection email and cant even get an interview :( |
2024.04.27 22:30 OwnAbbreviations2612 Roast my resume: uni student who cant get any job
Never thought id hit rock bottom to the point where id be posting my resume online but here i am.
Im currently a domestic Ontario uni student who cant find any job
I have applied 100s of times to fast food, retail, cleaning positions, cineplex, grocery stores, hard ware stores, restaurants, etc etc etc etc
This is a rough overview of my resume. I do change it each time for the specific job but this is what is usually on it. I have tried taking out the education section too at times but that i also didnt work. Not sure what im doing wrong tbh.
Please be as brutal as you want about it. I need help improving it.
submitted by OwnAbbreviations2612 to resumes [link] [comments]
Im currently a domestic Ontario uni student who cant find any job
I have applied 100s of times to fast food, retail, cleaning positions, cineplex, grocery stores, hard ware stores, restaurants, etc etc etc etc
This is a rough overview of my resume. I do change it each time for the specific job but this is what is usually on it. I have tried taking out the education section too at times but that i also didnt work. Not sure what im doing wrong tbh.
Please be as brutal as you want about it. I need help improving it.
2024.04.27 21:34 empressadraca Grand Expedition Yak Update?
Isn't it odd that Cousin Slowhands doesn't have updated wares? You'd think that with a profession overhaul like Dragonflight that a mount as popular as this would have vendors that sell up-to-date crafting items, potions, food, and water.
submitted by empressadraca to wow [link] [comments]
2024.04.27 21:34 empressadraca Grand Expedition Yak Update?
Isn't it odd that Cousin Lsoehands doesn't have updated wares? You'd think that with a profession overhaul like Dragonflight that a mount as popular as this would have vendors that sell up-to-date crafting items, potions, food, and water.
submitted by empressadraca to wow [link] [comments]
2024.04.27 08:48 Praccessorii Summer Collection is Here: Elevate Your Style with Gemstone Bags
 | https://preview.redd.it/hu6qnmraxywc1.png?width=720&format=png&auto=webp&s=50974df4db2a5e0d231d2001d7788d5b46779956 submitted by Praccessorii to u/Praccessorii [link] [comments] As the temperature rises and the sun casts its golden glow, it’s time to refresh our wardrobes and embrace the vibrant energy of summer. And what better way to do so than with the timeless elegance and natural allure of gemstone bags? From beach outings to evening soirees, these exquisite accessories add a touch of luxury and sophistication to any ensemble. Let’s delve into the captivating world of gemstone bags by Praccessorii and explore why they are a must-have for the summer season.
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2024.04.27 07:10 cbvv1992 🔥63% Price Drop – $2.80 Glad GladWare Tall Entrée Food Storage Containers Large Square Containers for Food Hold up to 42 Ounces of Food, 3 Count!!
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2024.04.27 06:56 MjolnirPants Jerry and the Men in the Mirror: Part 2
Part 1
Gary Johnson, Grumpy Old Dude With a Gun
The Divine Crisis Management Group Headquarters, Baltimore, MD
Gary put his hand on the plate and waited for the scanner to read his palm print and the magic to check his aura. It took a a second to produce the chime and for the lights to turn green. He grabbed the door handle, the latch depressing easily, and stepped into the holding center.
"Director Johnson," the guard at the duty desk greeted him. The one posted up in the alcove where all the clairvoyant eyes conveyed their vision ignored him, caught up in his duties. His eyes remained shut as his brain processed the input from two dozen eyes, no two looking in the same direction. His grip on his weapon was relaxed and casual, which spoke to the current state of the lockup.
"Hey," Gary said. He walked over, pulling his EDC gun out of the holster and plopping it on the desk, then bending to retrieve his backup from one boot. The backup was a .22 magnum revolver that only carried four rounds. It was dwarfed by the custom 1911 next to it.
"Which prisoner?" the guard asked as he took both guns and secured them in a lockbox behind his desk.
"General tour," Gary said. "I'll prolly talk to several of 'em. Did the paperwork on that ghoul come in?"
"It did. We were going to give him until after lunch to process him out. He said he was looking forwards to the meatloaf."
"Ain't eager to be set free?" Gary asked, quirking an eyebrow. The guard shrugged.
"He's a pretty Zen guy. Seems just as happy in his cell as anywhere, really. We brought him a bunch of books, and he's kept his nose buried in them."
Gary nodded. "Well, jes' remember we done 'im wrong when we locked him up. Be courteous, an iffen he needs anything from us, you got my approval to make it happen."
"Yes, sir," the guard said, then immediately raised a hand as Gary opened his mouth to protest.
"Apologies, Director. You do indeed, work for a living."
"Damn straight," Gary said. He patted the desktop in a farewell and headed into the cellblock.
First thing's first, he thought as he approached the second cell with a guard outside it.
"Going in, Director Johnson?" the guard asked. Gary nodded. "Ayup."
The guard placed his palm on a plate next to the door, said "Unlock," quietly, and then stepped aside as the door clicked.
Duke, or Dylan, if Gary was feeling more charitable than usual, looked up, his eyes dark and gloomy through the limp strands of black hair that hung in front.
"What," he demanded.
"What you gon' do iffen I have these boys cut you loose right now?"
Duke glared at him for a long moment. When he answered, his voice was quiet, if no less hard.
"I'm going to find my daughter and wife."
"That's why yer still here, cupcake," Gary said.
"Call me cupcake again," Duke replied, rising to his feet. He was an inch or two taller. Gary sized him up, figured the reach advantage would be about a half inch. Muscle-mass-wise, Gary had a definite edge. And Gary was far stronger even than he looked. He wouldn't break a sweat.
"Cupcake," Gary said. Then added "Snowflake. Drama queen."
"Of course, the fag calls me a queen," Duke said with a roll of his eyes. Gary grinned.
"Ya know what they say. Treat a whore like a queen, treat a queen like a whore." Gary put a grin on his face. The same grin he wore when he loaded a new magazine in his gun and prepared to end a tiresome fight, once and for all.
"Wanna be my whore?" he asked.
Duke flinched and looked away.
"That's what I thought," Gary said.
"So what do you want?"
"T'ask you what you'd do iffen we let you go," Gary said mildly. "And you gave me the wrong answer, son."
"The fuck kind of answer did you expect?!" Duke snapped. "Maybe it blows your simple fucking mind to think that I actually might care about someone other than myself, but that doesn't make it any less true."
Gary grunted a laugh. "Right," he said. He turned and knocked on the door behind him. A second later, it clicked and swung open, the guard outside peering in, one hand on his taser.
Gary heard the door slam shut behind him as he moved to the next guarded cell. Inside, he found the vampire Jerry had -unfortunately- trusted. She was laying on the bunk, hands behind her head, staring at the ceiling. She had her knees bent, with one leg thrown over the other and bouncing idly.
"Beatrice Armstrong," Gary said. He plopped his butt down on the only chair in the room, a simple platform bolted to the wall. Beatrice eyed him for a second, then turned her eyes back to the ceiling.
"I brought ya something," Gary said. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and hit play on the video, angling the screen towards her.
"Jerry went and parlayed with yer Dark Lord," he said, twisting the title into a mocking tone. "This were th'result. That false color added in is magical detection." He pointed at the screen where Jerry glowed with a bright red, almost pink light.
"That hue indicates full divinities. Guess which ones," he said with a wink and a smirk. "Here's a hint."
He pointed to the figure on the cross.
Beatrice stared at the phone, her face expressionless, but her whole body entirely still. The leg that had been bouncing was completely still. Gary sat there, letting the video play, letting her see her god writhe in agony upon the cross for a moment. Then he turned his phone around and pulled up another clip.
This was one Julie had sent him a few months ago. Before this whole business with the vampires had begun. He'd sent her a text asking if she was in the office, and she had responded by sending him a video of herself, Liam and Suzanne having a picnic. He'd thought of this because, when he first watched it, he had thought she looked somewhat relieved. As if she'd just come through a hard time. Beatrice didn't need to know when the clip was taken.
"Here's Miss Allard," he said. "Yesterday. Bringing a knife into a nest full o'wizards is kinna dumb move, y'ask me. Expecting t'accomplish anything with it? Twice as dumb."
He let Beatrice watch Suzanne feeding Julie a strawberry for a few seconds before turning it back off and tucking it into his pocket.
"Welp," he said, slapping his knees. "Ya got anything t'say fer yerself?"
Beatrice simply laid there, her eyes distant and unfocused. Gary gave her a few moments, then shrugged and stood.
"Awright," he drawled, laying his accent on pretty thick. "Guess we'll hear yer side at th'trial."
He banged on the door and left. Before it closed, he heard a sob and smiled to himself.
The walk back to the front guard station was quick.
"Did you get everything you needed, si-err, Director Johnson?" the guard asked as he returned Gary's weapons.
"Ayup," Gary said. "Fat lot o'good it did me, though."
----
Sookie, Sad
In the deepest pits of depression
Sookie lay in her bed, unmoving, as she had for the past forty-nine hours. Her stomach rumbled, but she ignored it. Her bladder screamed for release, but she ignored that, too.
Well, not ignored. She relished the sensation of hunger and the pain of holding in her urine. The figure sitting in the comfortable chair next to the bed provided no comfort, for she had reached out and stopped her every time Sookie tried to add to her own physical pain. Sookie never quite understood why people stopped her from hurting herself. The injuries could not last more than a few seconds. They didn't even leave behind scars. Only the hand of a mortal could injure her in a way that wouldn't heal almost instantly. Why couldn't they understand that putting pain in her body helped take the pain from her heart?
No, of course not. Nobody understood that but her. She didn't know who it was who sat in the chair. Erinne or Emily or Elena or Emma or Maryann. It was one of them, she knew. She'd gotten too close to them in the past few months for them to leave her alone now. She knew they were taking shifts, sitting with her. For three weeks, she'd seen a different face each time she finally lost her ability to take the pain and climbed out of bed long enough to choke down some crackers and relieve her bladder. A different hand had taken hers, each time she tried to dig claws in.
She was nearing the point where she couldn't take it anymore when something new happened. The door creaked open and the light switch was flicked on. Blinding light filled the room.
"Lights!" hissed a feminine voice. Erinne, Sookie thought.
"She needs the lights," boomed a deep, basso voice.
"What for?" Erinne -for it was definitely her- asked.
"To see what I'm doing to her," Yarm replied. Sookie finally turned to see him standing in the doorway. He was nude, his perfectly-muscled body shimmering under the thick body hair that he'd steadfastly refused to shave, despite Sookie's constant attempts to point out that hairless was sexier. In that moment, a tiny part of Sookie's brain finally clocked why he hadn't.
His erection was enormous. A club, almost a weapon, one suited to his origins. It was not fully erect, but hung between his legs, dragged down by its own weight. The part of Sookie's brain that could appreciate the vision of unchecked masculinity in front of her noted that she'd never felt that particular cock inside of her. She hadn't been fucked by a god since Ultriss, in fact. She wondered if it would feel different, lacking her own divinity now.
But that part was a small part. The larger part of her mind, the vast majority in fact, simply stared, uncaring, unmoved.
"You can watch if you like," Yarm said as he stepped forward and onto the bed, transitioning smoothly from walking on his feet to shuffling on his knees. "Or join us. I promise it'll be worth any embarrassment you may feel."
He seized Sookie's ankles and pulled her down to him, then leaned forward, resting on one hand. The other hand came up and stroked the side of her face with surprising gentleness. She felt him slip a finger right to the sensitive spot behind her ear that had always driven her wild and give it the faintest touch, tracing circles with the tip of his finger.
"I plan to go full Frodo on you," he rumbled, his voice deeper now, full of a throbbing hunger. She felt his cock brush her belly as it engorged further, stiffening up. She glanced down quickly, noting that his hips were still closer to her knees than her own hips, and yet the massive glans still touched the base of her breasts.
He leaned forward, his lips barely brushing her ear as he whispered the rest, his beard tickling her neck. Each sensation spread ripples of pleasure out as he spoke, his words triggering a buzzing chaos in her hips and belly.
"I'm gonna destroy your ring."
That tiny part of her brain whimpered and begged to be used.
The rest of her brain did not.
Yarm held himself like that for a moment, then sighed and straightened up.
"Why'd you stop?" Erinne gasped. Sookie could see her touching herself out of the corner of her eye. Yarm had no aura of lust exuding from him, it had been the mere sight and sound that had that effect on the girl. Not that Sookie blamed her one bit. She still marveled at how well-suited Yarm was to each of his divinities.
Yarm sighed again. "I won't take her without some sign of assent," he said. He fixed his eyes on Sookie.
"Should I?" he asked. She stared back for a moment, thinking. She'd never fucked Yarm before. She'd heard Kathy, Gary and Brekka tell the tale, though. She knew it was an intense, otherworldly experience. It was the exact sort of thing she had spent so many centuries seeking out. The sort of experience she would have gladly killed or sacrificed for. It was something she had begged for, only for Yarm to demure, each time, citing the incestuousness of the god of sex fucking the former goddess of sex and Sookie's own emotional instability as reasons why it would be a bad idea. It was, in a word, everything she'd wanted for a very long time.
She shook her head slightly, turning back onto her side and curling back up.
Yarm nodded and climbed off of her. By the time he got to his feet next to the bed, he wore a plain shirt and a pair of jeans.
"It was... Uh... Worth a shot," Erinne said, eyeing the god breathlessly. "Are you a... A... servant?"
"Avatar," he correctly gently. "And no, this is me. I was hoping this might give her at least a few moments of peace and happiness. It breaks my heart to see her like this."
He turned to regard her.
"I'm so sorry, love," he said. "You didn't deserve this."
Sookie ignored him. She simply lay there, thinking idly of what it might be like to die. She thought she had a soul, however. At this point, she was so human herself, she had to have one, right? So if she died, that would be no relief. Her soul would go on, and continue to ache for eternity. The same thing that would happen if she didn't die.
She didn't know what to do. So she did nothing.
Yarm sighed again. He sat down on the edge of the bed and rested a hand on Sookie's hip.
"I know how much this hurts," he said. "I can feel every ache inside of you. If there's anything I can do for you, you only have to ask. Anything at all."
Sookie didn't say anything. She simply lay there, until something suddenly relaxed inside of her and her hips grew slightly warmer. She couldn't be bothered to even look down at herself until the warmth faded and turned cold.
When she saw the soaked sheets and the puddle of urine, she began to cry.
----
Kathy Evenson, Professional
Somewhere in the Seventh World
"It were Thralsir, I know it," the reedy little man said. "I seen 'im with me own two eyes, I did. The yeller hair, the bright pink eyes, twere just like in all the paintings!"
Kathy glanced around the room. The place was a tavern, situated in one of the largest settlements on this continent, the Seventh World version of Australia. Almost two thousand people lived in a cluster of rough-hewn wooden shacks at the place where a major -by local standards, at least- trade route crossed a river.
Everything was simple, rough-made and functional. She could see traces of the civilization that had died out thousands of years ago by her world's count, but only a few hundred by this world's reckoning. A large, chrome car bumper had been fashioned into a shelf, and one of the men carried a shield that was obviously made of an old hubcap, reinforced with wood. About three dozen people filled the small, smokey room, all of them hunched over simple wooden cups full of mead or some stronger spirits, talking quietly to each other as a woman in what looked like a parody of Native American made a simple song by humming along to the pluckings of what looked like a shamisen in one corner.
She turned back to her companion at the table she'd claimed and refilled both of their cups from the larger jug of mead in front of her. She raised her cup in a salute which he mirrored and then drank.
He was thin, with whipcord muscles, dressed in a simple homespun shirt and pants made of woven leather strips. His boots were thick and padded, looking heavy at the end of his thin legs. His brown hair was mussed and his beard about three weeks old, she guessed. He had deep-set, smart eyes and the easy-going manners of someone who'd been living a hard life long enough to have learned to find the simple pleasures in it. The kind of man a younger person might not take seriously, as he didn't look as hard or mean as many others, but who knew enough tricks to compete with the best of them. That's why she'd allowed him to join her and start regaling her with tales.
When he'd gotten to the tale of a fleeing god, her ears had perked up.
"Thralsir," she mused. "What's his domain again?"
The man shrugged. "Play, methinks. Like rough play. Play fighting an' games with balls and the like."
"Sports," Kathy supplied, the word not changing into the local tongue as it left her lip. She wondered what it said about the locals that they had no word for sports. Then she wondered what Jerry would say about that.
"Sports," the man repeated. "Never heard o' it. Is that what it is?"
"Games where people compete physically to do something," Kathy explained. The man raised his cup again to acknowledge the answer and they both drank before he refilled them with the last of the mead in the jug.
'So which way was he going?" Kathy asked.
"Which way?" the man mused with a little laugh. "Planning t'chase down a god, were ye?"
Kathy threw her head back and laughed. "Not a chance," she said. "I just don't want to be heading in the direction of anything that can make one run away like that."
"Fair point, that," the man said. He hooked a thumb over his shoulder. "East, he were heading. Into the badlands. Not the kind o' place fer a lady such as yerself t'be following." He took a drink, eyeing her over his cup.
"Least not by herself," he added.
"You offering to be my bodyguard?" Kathy asked, favoring him with a mischievous smirk. He wasn't a bad-looking guy, she thought, though he surely needed a bath.
"Aye, if you'll pay me," he said. He drained his cup and set it down. "A sucker for a pretty face, I might be, but no fool am I. I'll take my pay in good, honest chits, and if ye felt the need to throw in any kind o' bonus fer me deft practice, well, that'd be an entirely separate matter."
Kathy laughed again. "I like you," she said, finishing her own cup. She turned, catching the bartender's eye and waved, pointing at the empty jug. The bartender flashed her a thumb's up and hurried to fill another jug from the cask. The local currency, called 'chits', was square pieces of galvanized steel, likely cut from old electrical boxes. The ruins she'd seen here seemed to have a lot in common with the nineteen forties or fifties on Earth, and she had spotted quite a few electrical boxes missing their covers.
Not all had been, however, and she had used a little laser cutting spell that Jerry had developed to turn a handful of covers into a wealth of chits for herself. Chits which she spent freely, having no use for them once she left this world. Consequentially, every businessman she'd met so far had been at her beck and call. The bartender swapped out the empty jug for the new one and scurried back, already paid up through the night, for food, drinks and a bed in a private room.
Before she could continued their conversation, a commotion from outside caught everyone's attention. The entire room froze. Kathy stood quickly and made her way to the door as her companion, whose name she could not recall at the moment, called after her.
"Miss! Miss! Don't go out there!"
Kathy ignored him, pushing open the saloon-style half doors and looking out onto the dirt streets. A few buildings down on her left, she saw a group of men surrounding a smaller figure in a long cloak with the cowl up and covering its head. The figure's back was oddly shaped, as if they had some sort of deformity that left them with a squared-off, blocky torso. The men were shouting angrily at the figure, too far away for her Babelfish to translate. She touched the engraving on it and willed itself to increase its range, until she caught a snippet of what they were saying.
"...pay the toll or pay the price! Simple as that!"
The smaller figure spoke. Something about her voice caught Kathy's ear.
"I'll pay you nothing, unless you show me a writ from whoever rules these parts."
"No man rules here," one of the other men snapped. "Freetown is run by the folks what live 'ere!"
"Then you've no way to secure such a writ," the woman said. She turned, deftly sidestepped the two in her way and began to walk away, towards Kathy. Kathy caught a flash of bright red hair under the hood as it caught the light of a torch mounted on a nearby building. Two of the men reached out and grabbed her, knocking down the hood and revealing a flash of metal around her neck. Kathy immediately clocked it as chain mail. Polished and glittering, no less. Not dirty and dull, as she would have expected.
The robed figure dipped one shoulder, spinning towards the other man as one lost his grip. A foot flew out from the robe, catching the man in the groin and pushing him back, stumbling.
Shouts of outrage and alarm rose from the rest of the men, who produced knives from their belts and rounded on the woman.
For her part, she reached up and unclasped her cloak, letting it fall to the ground. Underneath it was a lean woman with dark red hair, shoulder-length and controlled by two braids running down either side of her head. She was clad in a chain mail shirt and pants, over some thin padding. On her back, a heater shield was strapped, the face of it made of shining steel and engraved with the image of an open book. Above it, the handle of an ornate sword protruded. Based on the sword's hilt and the length of the blade, Kathy judged it to be a viking sword, not too dissimilar from the powerful artifact Jerry carried.
As she watched, the woman reached back and yanked the sword free. The shield shook for just a second, then leaped off her back and flipped around, attaching itself to her arm. Kathy felt a hand on her shoulder as her companion joined her on the narrow porch.
"Ye don't see that every day," he marveled.
"No you don't," Kathy said.
The woman turned her head slowly, eyeing the men arrayed before her. They seemed a bit more cautious, now that they could see she was armed. As she eyed them, Kathy caught a good look at her profile, and something about it struck her deeply.
She had never seen this woman before in her life. Of that, she was certain. So why did she look so damned familiar?
submitted by MjolnirPants to JerryandtheGoddesses [link] [comments]
Gary Johnson, Grumpy Old Dude With a Gun
The Divine Crisis Management Group Headquarters, Baltimore, MD
Gary put his hand on the plate and waited for the scanner to read his palm print and the magic to check his aura. It took a a second to produce the chime and for the lights to turn green. He grabbed the door handle, the latch depressing easily, and stepped into the holding center.
"Director Johnson," the guard at the duty desk greeted him. The one posted up in the alcove where all the clairvoyant eyes conveyed their vision ignored him, caught up in his duties. His eyes remained shut as his brain processed the input from two dozen eyes, no two looking in the same direction. His grip on his weapon was relaxed and casual, which spoke to the current state of the lockup.
"Hey," Gary said. He walked over, pulling his EDC gun out of the holster and plopping it on the desk, then bending to retrieve his backup from one boot. The backup was a .22 magnum revolver that only carried four rounds. It was dwarfed by the custom 1911 next to it.
"Which prisoner?" the guard asked as he took both guns and secured them in a lockbox behind his desk.
"General tour," Gary said. "I'll prolly talk to several of 'em. Did the paperwork on that ghoul come in?"
"It did. We were going to give him until after lunch to process him out. He said he was looking forwards to the meatloaf."
"Ain't eager to be set free?" Gary asked, quirking an eyebrow. The guard shrugged.
"He's a pretty Zen guy. Seems just as happy in his cell as anywhere, really. We brought him a bunch of books, and he's kept his nose buried in them."
Gary nodded. "Well, jes' remember we done 'im wrong when we locked him up. Be courteous, an iffen he needs anything from us, you got my approval to make it happen."
"Yes, sir," the guard said, then immediately raised a hand as Gary opened his mouth to protest.
"Apologies, Director. You do indeed, work for a living."
"Damn straight," Gary said. He patted the desktop in a farewell and headed into the cellblock.
First thing's first, he thought as he approached the second cell with a guard outside it.
"Going in, Director Johnson?" the guard asked. Gary nodded. "Ayup."
The guard placed his palm on a plate next to the door, said "Unlock," quietly, and then stepped aside as the door clicked.
Duke, or Dylan, if Gary was feeling more charitable than usual, looked up, his eyes dark and gloomy through the limp strands of black hair that hung in front.
"What," he demanded.
"What you gon' do iffen I have these boys cut you loose right now?"
Duke glared at him for a long moment. When he answered, his voice was quiet, if no less hard.
"I'm going to find my daughter and wife."
"That's why yer still here, cupcake," Gary said.
"Call me cupcake again," Duke replied, rising to his feet. He was an inch or two taller. Gary sized him up, figured the reach advantage would be about a half inch. Muscle-mass-wise, Gary had a definite edge. And Gary was far stronger even than he looked. He wouldn't break a sweat.
"Cupcake," Gary said. Then added "Snowflake. Drama queen."
"Of course, the fag calls me a queen," Duke said with a roll of his eyes. Gary grinned.
"Ya know what they say. Treat a whore like a queen, treat a queen like a whore." Gary put a grin on his face. The same grin he wore when he loaded a new magazine in his gun and prepared to end a tiresome fight, once and for all.
"Wanna be my whore?" he asked.
Duke flinched and looked away.
"That's what I thought," Gary said.
"So what do you want?"
"T'ask you what you'd do iffen we let you go," Gary said mildly. "And you gave me the wrong answer, son."
"The fuck kind of answer did you expect?!" Duke snapped. "Maybe it blows your simple fucking mind to think that I actually might care about someone other than myself, but that doesn't make it any less true."
Gary grunted a laugh. "Right," he said. He turned and knocked on the door behind him. A second later, it clicked and swung open, the guard outside peering in, one hand on his taser.
Gary heard the door slam shut behind him as he moved to the next guarded cell. Inside, he found the vampire Jerry had -unfortunately- trusted. She was laying on the bunk, hands behind her head, staring at the ceiling. She had her knees bent, with one leg thrown over the other and bouncing idly.
"Beatrice Armstrong," Gary said. He plopped his butt down on the only chair in the room, a simple platform bolted to the wall. Beatrice eyed him for a second, then turned her eyes back to the ceiling.
"I brought ya something," Gary said. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and hit play on the video, angling the screen towards her.
"Jerry went and parlayed with yer Dark Lord," he said, twisting the title into a mocking tone. "This were th'result. That false color added in is magical detection." He pointed at the screen where Jerry glowed with a bright red, almost pink light.
"That hue indicates full divinities. Guess which ones," he said with a wink and a smirk. "Here's a hint."
He pointed to the figure on the cross.
Beatrice stared at the phone, her face expressionless, but her whole body entirely still. The leg that had been bouncing was completely still. Gary sat there, letting the video play, letting her see her god writhe in agony upon the cross for a moment. Then he turned his phone around and pulled up another clip.
This was one Julie had sent him a few months ago. Before this whole business with the vampires had begun. He'd sent her a text asking if she was in the office, and she had responded by sending him a video of herself, Liam and Suzanne having a picnic. He'd thought of this because, when he first watched it, he had thought she looked somewhat relieved. As if she'd just come through a hard time. Beatrice didn't need to know when the clip was taken.
"Here's Miss Allard," he said. "Yesterday. Bringing a knife into a nest full o'wizards is kinna dumb move, y'ask me. Expecting t'accomplish anything with it? Twice as dumb."
He let Beatrice watch Suzanne feeding Julie a strawberry for a few seconds before turning it back off and tucking it into his pocket.
"Welp," he said, slapping his knees. "Ya got anything t'say fer yerself?"
Beatrice simply laid there, her eyes distant and unfocused. Gary gave her a few moments, then shrugged and stood.
"Awright," he drawled, laying his accent on pretty thick. "Guess we'll hear yer side at th'trial."
He banged on the door and left. Before it closed, he heard a sob and smiled to himself.
The walk back to the front guard station was quick.
"Did you get everything you needed, si-err, Director Johnson?" the guard asked as he returned Gary's weapons.
"Ayup," Gary said. "Fat lot o'good it did me, though."
----
Sookie, Sad
In the deepest pits of depression
Sookie lay in her bed, unmoving, as she had for the past forty-nine hours. Her stomach rumbled, but she ignored it. Her bladder screamed for release, but she ignored that, too.
Well, not ignored. She relished the sensation of hunger and the pain of holding in her urine. The figure sitting in the comfortable chair next to the bed provided no comfort, for she had reached out and stopped her every time Sookie tried to add to her own physical pain. Sookie never quite understood why people stopped her from hurting herself. The injuries could not last more than a few seconds. They didn't even leave behind scars. Only the hand of a mortal could injure her in a way that wouldn't heal almost instantly. Why couldn't they understand that putting pain in her body helped take the pain from her heart?
No, of course not. Nobody understood that but her. She didn't know who it was who sat in the chair. Erinne or Emily or Elena or Emma or Maryann. It was one of them, she knew. She'd gotten too close to them in the past few months for them to leave her alone now. She knew they were taking shifts, sitting with her. For three weeks, she'd seen a different face each time she finally lost her ability to take the pain and climbed out of bed long enough to choke down some crackers and relieve her bladder. A different hand had taken hers, each time she tried to dig claws in.
She was nearing the point where she couldn't take it anymore when something new happened. The door creaked open and the light switch was flicked on. Blinding light filled the room.
"Lights!" hissed a feminine voice. Erinne, Sookie thought.
"She needs the lights," boomed a deep, basso voice.
"What for?" Erinne -for it was definitely her- asked.
"To see what I'm doing to her," Yarm replied. Sookie finally turned to see him standing in the doorway. He was nude, his perfectly-muscled body shimmering under the thick body hair that he'd steadfastly refused to shave, despite Sookie's constant attempts to point out that hairless was sexier. In that moment, a tiny part of Sookie's brain finally clocked why he hadn't.
His erection was enormous. A club, almost a weapon, one suited to his origins. It was not fully erect, but hung between his legs, dragged down by its own weight. The part of Sookie's brain that could appreciate the vision of unchecked masculinity in front of her noted that she'd never felt that particular cock inside of her. She hadn't been fucked by a god since Ultriss, in fact. She wondered if it would feel different, lacking her own divinity now.
But that part was a small part. The larger part of her mind, the vast majority in fact, simply stared, uncaring, unmoved.
"You can watch if you like," Yarm said as he stepped forward and onto the bed, transitioning smoothly from walking on his feet to shuffling on his knees. "Or join us. I promise it'll be worth any embarrassment you may feel."
He seized Sookie's ankles and pulled her down to him, then leaned forward, resting on one hand. The other hand came up and stroked the side of her face with surprising gentleness. She felt him slip a finger right to the sensitive spot behind her ear that had always driven her wild and give it the faintest touch, tracing circles with the tip of his finger.
"I plan to go full Frodo on you," he rumbled, his voice deeper now, full of a throbbing hunger. She felt his cock brush her belly as it engorged further, stiffening up. She glanced down quickly, noting that his hips were still closer to her knees than her own hips, and yet the massive glans still touched the base of her breasts.
He leaned forward, his lips barely brushing her ear as he whispered the rest, his beard tickling her neck. Each sensation spread ripples of pleasure out as he spoke, his words triggering a buzzing chaos in her hips and belly.
"I'm gonna destroy your ring."
That tiny part of her brain whimpered and begged to be used.
The rest of her brain did not.
Yarm held himself like that for a moment, then sighed and straightened up.
"Why'd you stop?" Erinne gasped. Sookie could see her touching herself out of the corner of her eye. Yarm had no aura of lust exuding from him, it had been the mere sight and sound that had that effect on the girl. Not that Sookie blamed her one bit. She still marveled at how well-suited Yarm was to each of his divinities.
Yarm sighed again. "I won't take her without some sign of assent," he said. He fixed his eyes on Sookie.
"Should I?" he asked. She stared back for a moment, thinking. She'd never fucked Yarm before. She'd heard Kathy, Gary and Brekka tell the tale, though. She knew it was an intense, otherworldly experience. It was the exact sort of thing she had spent so many centuries seeking out. The sort of experience she would have gladly killed or sacrificed for. It was something she had begged for, only for Yarm to demure, each time, citing the incestuousness of the god of sex fucking the former goddess of sex and Sookie's own emotional instability as reasons why it would be a bad idea. It was, in a word, everything she'd wanted for a very long time.
She shook her head slightly, turning back onto her side and curling back up.
Yarm nodded and climbed off of her. By the time he got to his feet next to the bed, he wore a plain shirt and a pair of jeans.
"It was... Uh... Worth a shot," Erinne said, eyeing the god breathlessly. "Are you a... A... servant?"
"Avatar," he correctly gently. "And no, this is me. I was hoping this might give her at least a few moments of peace and happiness. It breaks my heart to see her like this."
He turned to regard her.
"I'm so sorry, love," he said. "You didn't deserve this."
Sookie ignored him. She simply lay there, thinking idly of what it might be like to die. She thought she had a soul, however. At this point, she was so human herself, she had to have one, right? So if she died, that would be no relief. Her soul would go on, and continue to ache for eternity. The same thing that would happen if she didn't die.
She didn't know what to do. So she did nothing.
Yarm sighed again. He sat down on the edge of the bed and rested a hand on Sookie's hip.
"I know how much this hurts," he said. "I can feel every ache inside of you. If there's anything I can do for you, you only have to ask. Anything at all."
Sookie didn't say anything. She simply lay there, until something suddenly relaxed inside of her and her hips grew slightly warmer. She couldn't be bothered to even look down at herself until the warmth faded and turned cold.
When she saw the soaked sheets and the puddle of urine, she began to cry.
----
Kathy Evenson, Professional
Somewhere in the Seventh World
"It were Thralsir, I know it," the reedy little man said. "I seen 'im with me own two eyes, I did. The yeller hair, the bright pink eyes, twere just like in all the paintings!"
Kathy glanced around the room. The place was a tavern, situated in one of the largest settlements on this continent, the Seventh World version of Australia. Almost two thousand people lived in a cluster of rough-hewn wooden shacks at the place where a major -by local standards, at least- trade route crossed a river.
Everything was simple, rough-made and functional. She could see traces of the civilization that had died out thousands of years ago by her world's count, but only a few hundred by this world's reckoning. A large, chrome car bumper had been fashioned into a shelf, and one of the men carried a shield that was obviously made of an old hubcap, reinforced with wood. About three dozen people filled the small, smokey room, all of them hunched over simple wooden cups full of mead or some stronger spirits, talking quietly to each other as a woman in what looked like a parody of Native American made a simple song by humming along to the pluckings of what looked like a shamisen in one corner.
She turned back to her companion at the table she'd claimed and refilled both of their cups from the larger jug of mead in front of her. She raised her cup in a salute which he mirrored and then drank.
He was thin, with whipcord muscles, dressed in a simple homespun shirt and pants made of woven leather strips. His boots were thick and padded, looking heavy at the end of his thin legs. His brown hair was mussed and his beard about three weeks old, she guessed. He had deep-set, smart eyes and the easy-going manners of someone who'd been living a hard life long enough to have learned to find the simple pleasures in it. The kind of man a younger person might not take seriously, as he didn't look as hard or mean as many others, but who knew enough tricks to compete with the best of them. That's why she'd allowed him to join her and start regaling her with tales.
When he'd gotten to the tale of a fleeing god, her ears had perked up.
"Thralsir," she mused. "What's his domain again?"
The man shrugged. "Play, methinks. Like rough play. Play fighting an' games with balls and the like."
"Sports," Kathy supplied, the word not changing into the local tongue as it left her lip. She wondered what it said about the locals that they had no word for sports. Then she wondered what Jerry would say about that.
"Sports," the man repeated. "Never heard o' it. Is that what it is?"
"Games where people compete physically to do something," Kathy explained. The man raised his cup again to acknowledge the answer and they both drank before he refilled them with the last of the mead in the jug.
'So which way was he going?" Kathy asked.
"Which way?" the man mused with a little laugh. "Planning t'chase down a god, were ye?"
Kathy threw her head back and laughed. "Not a chance," she said. "I just don't want to be heading in the direction of anything that can make one run away like that."
"Fair point, that," the man said. He hooked a thumb over his shoulder. "East, he were heading. Into the badlands. Not the kind o' place fer a lady such as yerself t'be following." He took a drink, eyeing her over his cup.
"Least not by herself," he added.
"You offering to be my bodyguard?" Kathy asked, favoring him with a mischievous smirk. He wasn't a bad-looking guy, she thought, though he surely needed a bath.
"Aye, if you'll pay me," he said. He drained his cup and set it down. "A sucker for a pretty face, I might be, but no fool am I. I'll take my pay in good, honest chits, and if ye felt the need to throw in any kind o' bonus fer me deft practice, well, that'd be an entirely separate matter."
Kathy laughed again. "I like you," she said, finishing her own cup. She turned, catching the bartender's eye and waved, pointing at the empty jug. The bartender flashed her a thumb's up and hurried to fill another jug from the cask. The local currency, called 'chits', was square pieces of galvanized steel, likely cut from old electrical boxes. The ruins she'd seen here seemed to have a lot in common with the nineteen forties or fifties on Earth, and she had spotted quite a few electrical boxes missing their covers.
Not all had been, however, and she had used a little laser cutting spell that Jerry had developed to turn a handful of covers into a wealth of chits for herself. Chits which she spent freely, having no use for them once she left this world. Consequentially, every businessman she'd met so far had been at her beck and call. The bartender swapped out the empty jug for the new one and scurried back, already paid up through the night, for food, drinks and a bed in a private room.
Before she could continued their conversation, a commotion from outside caught everyone's attention. The entire room froze. Kathy stood quickly and made her way to the door as her companion, whose name she could not recall at the moment, called after her.
"Miss! Miss! Don't go out there!"
Kathy ignored him, pushing open the saloon-style half doors and looking out onto the dirt streets. A few buildings down on her left, she saw a group of men surrounding a smaller figure in a long cloak with the cowl up and covering its head. The figure's back was oddly shaped, as if they had some sort of deformity that left them with a squared-off, blocky torso. The men were shouting angrily at the figure, too far away for her Babelfish to translate. She touched the engraving on it and willed itself to increase its range, until she caught a snippet of what they were saying.
"...pay the toll or pay the price! Simple as that!"
The smaller figure spoke. Something about her voice caught Kathy's ear.
"I'll pay you nothing, unless you show me a writ from whoever rules these parts."
"No man rules here," one of the other men snapped. "Freetown is run by the folks what live 'ere!"
"Then you've no way to secure such a writ," the woman said. She turned, deftly sidestepped the two in her way and began to walk away, towards Kathy. Kathy caught a flash of bright red hair under the hood as it caught the light of a torch mounted on a nearby building. Two of the men reached out and grabbed her, knocking down the hood and revealing a flash of metal around her neck. Kathy immediately clocked it as chain mail. Polished and glittering, no less. Not dirty and dull, as she would have expected.
The robed figure dipped one shoulder, spinning towards the other man as one lost his grip. A foot flew out from the robe, catching the man in the groin and pushing him back, stumbling.
Shouts of outrage and alarm rose from the rest of the men, who produced knives from their belts and rounded on the woman.
For her part, she reached up and unclasped her cloak, letting it fall to the ground. Underneath it was a lean woman with dark red hair, shoulder-length and controlled by two braids running down either side of her head. She was clad in a chain mail shirt and pants, over some thin padding. On her back, a heater shield was strapped, the face of it made of shining steel and engraved with the image of an open book. Above it, the handle of an ornate sword protruded. Based on the sword's hilt and the length of the blade, Kathy judged it to be a viking sword, not too dissimilar from the powerful artifact Jerry carried.
As she watched, the woman reached back and yanked the sword free. The shield shook for just a second, then leaped off her back and flipped around, attaching itself to her arm. Kathy felt a hand on her shoulder as her companion joined her on the narrow porch.
"Ye don't see that every day," he marveled.
"No you don't," Kathy said.
The woman turned her head slowly, eyeing the men arrayed before her. They seemed a bit more cautious, now that they could see she was armed. As she eyed them, Kathy caught a good look at her profile, and something about it struck her deeply.
She had never seen this woman before in her life. Of that, she was certain. So why did she look so damned familiar?
2024.04.27 04:56 Garganthoclop The Neighbor and his Big Top - Horror Erotica
"You go first down the slide," he said holding his hand like a polite gentleman at the shiny metal surface.
I waited at the top of my slide for him to get on his so we could shove off together.
"Ready, go" he screamed and we sailed down the metal slides together, hitting little bumps that made us bop in the air at times and giggle.
And then next thing I knew I went through the chute and landed with a thud on silk pillows.
"Did you like it," my Beloved asked smiling at me, atop his own set of pillows. He was awaiting my synopsis of his system he built.
"Maybe a ball pit at the bottom?" I shrugged. He didn't like that answer.
I looked out the window at the whole city block he owned. Our Cult couldn't exist without this genius. My adorable, handsome, sweet, funny beloved that innovated all of us to our wealth. I ran over to swoon at his face, having all the lines of tender beauty. His skin supple with health and intelligence. Even his face had artistic allure, I felt so deeply smitten with him.
But why had he built that big top tent on top of our building across the street? I sighed and I turned to look at the tent blowing in the breeze and felt i could almost smell the caramel corn wafting. It sat empty waiting for our lanterns to flicker on party nights. My Beloved knew what he was doing, we'd have the finest parties around! We'd wine them on my handmaiden mead and feast them on our ostriches cooked with rosemary! I pictured all of our guest enjoying the two metal slides as their titties happily bounce down them, racing from the tent to our Compound's art warehouse. They'd descended steeply down and land with a thunk. We'd pluck a bud from our weed botanica and light up. Cheers!
I stared at the whole complex in awe of what a brilliant mind my Beloved has....but only a matter of time before the knock of the city code rapped on our Compound entrance. Even in these apocalyptic times, they still seemed to keep their grasp on building codes, specially our cult Compound.
There were questions of how we came into our money.
Our whole cult was hiding assets, people said.
Hiding from the government and producing wares in our own trading system outside their system.
Our enemies growing exponentially as the rumors spread like fire.
Suddenly the two metal slides he built to connect our two buildings, it seemed a portal for thieves to come sliding in and I blurted my concerns. "How will you close these slides from intruders?"
But he didn't answer. He was busy talking with his hands, "you realize this is art? People will come to see this from miles. It's a statement on Possibility and Hope."
I loved his lofty side that inspired others to reach their own goals. I swirled around and spun on my moccasins tips and kissed him. He was hope and I grabbed his peachy ass to show him.
Why he was beauty itself! I kissed him extra as his lovely wrist outstretched to me and Beloved's hand unfurled to offer me special gifts. I thropped my shoulder up and down to thank him for the canned opossum and the jar of caviar. He was beaming like warm sunlight.
I sat down at the kitchen counter to enjoy my bowl of canned good luxury. "What about mosquitos," I questioned between spoonfuls of dank meat that I savored in my mouth.
He looked up. His perfectly worn, canvas coat made him look as clever and handsome as a professor explaining very regally the netting system he engineered. He seemed very sure of it so I dropped it.
He grabbed the bucket of pistachio ice cream from the fridge and tapped himself a big bowl full. We headed off to watch the tv theatre he set up. I checked to make sure I was wearing my cutest panties for him and rubbed my rump on him in wiggles.
I spun around. One more way to entice thieves, I thought ... as i surveyed the giant tv at the bottom of his stupid slides. "Here thieves, here thieves" I laughed merrily as i plopped up onto the red couch mocking him.
He pulled his red shoes off and came in close to me, us both in our sock feet. Our couch built extra high off the ground so it felt like we were little kids with our feet dangling off the edge. I cozied up to him, snuggly.
The TV theatre filled the wall with an all encompassing curve. I could still smell the scent of new electronics. I considered myself lucky I had such a successful partner to help care for me during such trying times, such a master my Beloved was. I slid my hand down the edge of his pants to show my appreciation. Squeezing and copping for a feel of the warm bulge. I twirled his warmth around in my hand. My mouth getting wet for the bulge, as he focused on the remote ignoring me.
TV flipped on, my beloved husband tossed the remote beside me. Outfitted trucks flashed on the screen in a convey. I listened as his ice cream spoon clanked the ceramic bowl between bites. Without warning the screen flashed,
No Rest for the Wicked
No Rest for the Wicked
Rising over a fallow field that was once the highway, a rag tag team of bandit pirates looking haggard in the back of their ragged truck seemed to be moving towards us. We watched as they hedged closer and closer.
"Are they really climbing the fire escape next door," my beloved husband asked me nervously. I jumped up, always the squirrel wanting to scamper.
"No, they're not really out there," I assured him as I turned back around to double-check.
"Nothing out there but big top tents," I smacked my belly in happy fits and pivoted back around, but my face went aghast.
I was ON TV, I watched me watching the thieves come down the slide. I was on my knees over Beloved with my face dripping drool down his innards. I mean outards.
I moved closer to the tv to watch the thieves barreling down the chute. I struggled to keep from vomiting. "Do you see this!!" I screamed pointing at the TV with tears, "do you f'ing see this, Jospeph?" I was ranting now.
I forgot to call him Beloved. He hadn't noticed. He was too busy twisting pale on the floor, like a worm cracking like freeze dried cake on hot pavement as he watched the thieves on TV come charging at him with long swords and pick axes.
But suddenly I was on tv too, sneaking up behind the thieves like Ali Baba's darling. I pulled the ax from one then swung it around, aimlessly beheading like a helicopter blade spinning freely. Whirling around giggling in fits, like a child playing pinata. Whacking heads across the room, dying in laughter that heads were rolling around the screen like bowling pins struck at the sweet spot. I lifted my skirt over my head saying, "oh whoospie, sir, oh whoopsie tootsie, sire,"
I was dying laughing at my self.
"Why are you laughing, you, rude ugly wench...," Joseph sour complained.
But I charged across the room with obscene force and pummeled him to the ground. Without thought. we were wrestling on the carpet, tearing each others hair, rubbing our faces into carpet burns.
I sat my face on him for daring to ask me what I was doing. I thudded his head down, screaming. "I was defending you, you, you ungrateful devil," I hissed with spittle dripping, my hands full of his ears that i used to pin him harder to the ground. I felt his tongue try to push into me. Trying to push me off of him.
In a flash, I saw the vision.
The thieves at the top of the slide, smoking cigarettes as they mocked our slide of hope. Their dirty pants suddenly flung in the air as they jumped soaring down our the slide, laughing hysterical as they charged towards us.
It was then, I cried. I wailed in rage. I grabbed all three of our butcher knives. I flung the first one, knocking what's his name Beloved in the gut. Not satisfied, I flung another at him and watched as his innards sprung out like spring tendrils unfurling into the grace of the soft sun.
Moving in with the third knife, I leaned over close to my husbands soft cheeks. I twisted the knife in, "I loved you so much. It's a good thing I saved you from the Reckoning. You are my prince, my," and I paused forgetting his name a moment. My mouth drooled seeing the tender tendrils sprung outwards like blue noodles and I hadn't hadnt noodles in 5 years. I wiped the spittle from my lips. Drool dripping down his outards, I mean innards. I looked up.
"No Rest for the Wicked," said one of the pirates to me victoriously. He motioned a wine glass to me.
"No Rest for the Wicked," I said back to him as my head bobbled in excitement. "Cheers!" I gleefully clanked my imaginary wine glass against new guy's. And danced a polka gig.
"We did well, didn't we," I winked at him, tucking my hand under the curves of his hindend enjoying the texture of his dirty denim against his muscular ass. I craned my neck about admiring my pirate's warm sunkissed skin and smiling like the cheshire cat. I grasp his hand and we walked off into the setting sun.
originally submitted by Yeet Poppins on yeetpoppins
submitted by Garganthoclop to YouCanNeverEscape [link] [comments]
I waited at the top of my slide for him to get on his so we could shove off together.
"Ready, go" he screamed and we sailed down the metal slides together, hitting little bumps that made us bop in the air at times and giggle.
And then next thing I knew I went through the chute and landed with a thud on silk pillows.
"Did you like it," my Beloved asked smiling at me, atop his own set of pillows. He was awaiting my synopsis of his system he built.
"Maybe a ball pit at the bottom?" I shrugged. He didn't like that answer.
I looked out the window at the whole city block he owned. Our Cult couldn't exist without this genius. My adorable, handsome, sweet, funny beloved that innovated all of us to our wealth. I ran over to swoon at his face, having all the lines of tender beauty. His skin supple with health and intelligence. Even his face had artistic allure, I felt so deeply smitten with him.
But why had he built that big top tent on top of our building across the street? I sighed and I turned to look at the tent blowing in the breeze and felt i could almost smell the caramel corn wafting. It sat empty waiting for our lanterns to flicker on party nights. My Beloved knew what he was doing, we'd have the finest parties around! We'd wine them on my handmaiden mead and feast them on our ostriches cooked with rosemary! I pictured all of our guest enjoying the two metal slides as their titties happily bounce down them, racing from the tent to our Compound's art warehouse. They'd descended steeply down and land with a thunk. We'd pluck a bud from our weed botanica and light up. Cheers!
I stared at the whole complex in awe of what a brilliant mind my Beloved has....but only a matter of time before the knock of the city code rapped on our Compound entrance. Even in these apocalyptic times, they still seemed to keep their grasp on building codes, specially our cult Compound.
There were questions of how we came into our money.
Our whole cult was hiding assets, people said.
Hiding from the government and producing wares in our own trading system outside their system.
Our enemies growing exponentially as the rumors spread like fire.
Suddenly the two metal slides he built to connect our two buildings, it seemed a portal for thieves to come sliding in and I blurted my concerns. "How will you close these slides from intruders?"
But he didn't answer. He was busy talking with his hands, "you realize this is art? People will come to see this from miles. It's a statement on Possibility and Hope."
I loved his lofty side that inspired others to reach their own goals. I swirled around and spun on my moccasins tips and kissed him. He was hope and I grabbed his peachy ass to show him.
Why he was beauty itself! I kissed him extra as his lovely wrist outstretched to me and Beloved's hand unfurled to offer me special gifts. I thropped my shoulder up and down to thank him for the canned opossum and the jar of caviar. He was beaming like warm sunlight.
I sat down at the kitchen counter to enjoy my bowl of canned good luxury. "What about mosquitos," I questioned between spoonfuls of dank meat that I savored in my mouth.
He looked up. His perfectly worn, canvas coat made him look as clever and handsome as a professor explaining very regally the netting system he engineered. He seemed very sure of it so I dropped it.
He grabbed the bucket of pistachio ice cream from the fridge and tapped himself a big bowl full. We headed off to watch the tv theatre he set up. I checked to make sure I was wearing my cutest panties for him and rubbed my rump on him in wiggles.
I spun around. One more way to entice thieves, I thought ... as i surveyed the giant tv at the bottom of his stupid slides. "Here thieves, here thieves" I laughed merrily as i plopped up onto the red couch mocking him.
He pulled his red shoes off and came in close to me, us both in our sock feet. Our couch built extra high off the ground so it felt like we were little kids with our feet dangling off the edge. I cozied up to him, snuggly.
The TV theatre filled the wall with an all encompassing curve. I could still smell the scent of new electronics. I considered myself lucky I had such a successful partner to help care for me during such trying times, such a master my Beloved was. I slid my hand down the edge of his pants to show my appreciation. Squeezing and copping for a feel of the warm bulge. I twirled his warmth around in my hand. My mouth getting wet for the bulge, as he focused on the remote ignoring me.
TV flipped on, my beloved husband tossed the remote beside me. Outfitted trucks flashed on the screen in a convey. I listened as his ice cream spoon clanked the ceramic bowl between bites. Without warning the screen flashed,
No Rest for the Wicked
No Rest for the Wicked
Rising over a fallow field that was once the highway, a rag tag team of bandit pirates looking haggard in the back of their ragged truck seemed to be moving towards us. We watched as they hedged closer and closer.
"Are they really climbing the fire escape next door," my beloved husband asked me nervously. I jumped up, always the squirrel wanting to scamper.
"No, they're not really out there," I assured him as I turned back around to double-check.
"Nothing out there but big top tents," I smacked my belly in happy fits and pivoted back around, but my face went aghast.
I was ON TV, I watched me watching the thieves come down the slide. I was on my knees over Beloved with my face dripping drool down his innards. I mean outards.
I moved closer to the tv to watch the thieves barreling down the chute. I struggled to keep from vomiting. "Do you see this!!" I screamed pointing at the TV with tears, "do you f'ing see this, Jospeph?" I was ranting now.
I forgot to call him Beloved. He hadn't noticed. He was too busy twisting pale on the floor, like a worm cracking like freeze dried cake on hot pavement as he watched the thieves on TV come charging at him with long swords and pick axes.
But suddenly I was on tv too, sneaking up behind the thieves like Ali Baba's darling. I pulled the ax from one then swung it around, aimlessly beheading like a helicopter blade spinning freely. Whirling around giggling in fits, like a child playing pinata. Whacking heads across the room, dying in laughter that heads were rolling around the screen like bowling pins struck at the sweet spot. I lifted my skirt over my head saying, "oh whoospie, sir, oh whoopsie tootsie, sire,"
I was dying laughing at my self.
"Why are you laughing, you, rude ugly wench...," Joseph sour complained.
But I charged across the room with obscene force and pummeled him to the ground. Without thought. we were wrestling on the carpet, tearing each others hair, rubbing our faces into carpet burns.
I sat my face on him for daring to ask me what I was doing. I thudded his head down, screaming. "I was defending you, you, you ungrateful devil," I hissed with spittle dripping, my hands full of his ears that i used to pin him harder to the ground. I felt his tongue try to push into me. Trying to push me off of him.
In a flash, I saw the vision.
The thieves at the top of the slide, smoking cigarettes as they mocked our slide of hope. Their dirty pants suddenly flung in the air as they jumped soaring down our the slide, laughing hysterical as they charged towards us.
It was then, I cried. I wailed in rage. I grabbed all three of our butcher knives. I flung the first one, knocking what's his name Beloved in the gut. Not satisfied, I flung another at him and watched as his innards sprung out like spring tendrils unfurling into the grace of the soft sun.
Moving in with the third knife, I leaned over close to my husbands soft cheeks. I twisted the knife in, "I loved you so much. It's a good thing I saved you from the Reckoning. You are my prince, my," and I paused forgetting his name a moment. My mouth drooled seeing the tender tendrils sprung outwards like blue noodles and I hadn't hadnt noodles in 5 years. I wiped the spittle from my lips. Drool dripping down his outards, I mean innards. I looked up.
"No Rest for the Wicked," said one of the pirates to me victoriously. He motioned a wine glass to me.
"No Rest for the Wicked," I said back to him as my head bobbled in excitement. "Cheers!" I gleefully clanked my imaginary wine glass against new guy's. And danced a polka gig.
"We did well, didn't we," I winked at him, tucking my hand under the curves of his hindend enjoying the texture of his dirty denim against his muscular ass. I craned my neck about admiring my pirate's warm sunkissed skin and smiling like the cheshire cat. I grasp his hand and we walked off into the setting sun.
originally submitted by Yeet Poppins on yeetpoppins
2024.04.27 04:13 St_Augustine_Discord Live Music and Events Saturday April 27th Check out the Cabbage, Potato and Bacon Festival!
Live Music
- Damon Slaughter, 408 Main Street Hastings, 11:00 am – 12:00 pm
- Bret Blackshear, Marina Munch, 12:00 pm – 4:00 pm
- Evan D, Crabby's Beachside, 12:00 pm – 3:00 pm
- Yael Dray and ZaZa Flamenca, The Cellar Upstairs Wine Bar & Restaurant, 1:00 pm – 4:00 pm
- Trevor Compton, Backyard Island Cafe at Meehan's, 1:00 pm – 4:00 pm
- Chillula, Pierre's Pub, 1:00 pm – 5:00 pm
- Paper City Hustlers, Conch House Marina Resort, 3:00 pm – 7:00 pm
- Vinny Jacobs, The Tides Oyster Co. & Grill, 5:00 pm – 8:00 pm
- Josh Ford, Crabby's Beachside, 5:00 pm – 8:00 pm
- Dunehoppers, Marina Munch, 5:00 pm – 8:00 pm
- Dewey Via Band, Fish House & Oyster Co., 5:00 pm – 9:00 pm
- Mark Hart, Tradewinds Lounge, 5:00 pm – 8:00 pm
- Burn Unit, Fuzion 904 Eatery, 6:00 pm – 9:00 pm
- Committee, The Cellar Upstairs Wine Bar & Restaurant, 6:00 pm – 10:00 pm
- Christian Powers, Mellow Mushroom — Murabella, 6:00 pm – 9:00 pm
- Jesse Cruce, Mellow Mushroom — St. Johns, 6:00 pm – 9:00 pm
- Brian Rowland, Mellow Mushroom — Anastasia Island, 6:00 pm – 9:00 pm
- Denny Blue, Guy Harvey Resort, 6:00 pm – 9:00 pm
- Dion & Collins, Ebb Tide Poolside Bar & Grill, 6:00 pm – 9:00 pm
- Smokestack, Colonial Oak Music Park, 7:00 pm – 10:00 pm
- Lords of Surf, Crabby's Beachside, 7:00 pm – 10:00 pm
- Yael Dray and ZaZa Flamenca, Casa Maya, 7:00 pm – 10:00 pm
- Doug Carn, Chez L'Amour, 7:00 pm – 10:00 pm
- Jolie, Casa de Vino 57, 7:00 pm – 10:00 pm
- Erica Reese, Spinster Abbott's Taproom, 7:00 pm – 10:00 pm
- Heather Craig, Meehan's Irish Pub & Seafood House, 8:00 pm – 11:00 pm
- Josh Ford, Mill Top Tavern, 9:00 pm – 12:00 pm
Spud Run & Cabbage Crawl 2024
- Farm Bureau Insurance presents the Spud Run & Cabbage Crawl at 7:00 a.m. on Saturday, April 27, 2024. This annual event in Hastings, Florida celebrates the city's agricultural contributions. Race proceeds benefit agricultural education efforts, such as 4-H, Future Farmers of America, and Farm City Week.
- This year's race includes 5K, 10K, and 15K courses, and a Cabbage Crawl kids run. The 5K and 10K courses are USATF-certified and professionally timed and scored. This event is part of Hastings' annual Cabbage, Potato & Bacon Festival.
- Event Schedule
- 6:00 a.m. - Registration/packet pick-up begins
- 7:00 a.m. - 15K start
- 7:00 a.m. - 10K start
- 8:30 a.m. - 5K start
- 9:30 a.m. - Fun Run start
- Event Information
- Admission: Register for this event by April 1, 2024, to receive a Spud Run 2024 race-day shirt.
The Annual Cabbage, Potato and Bacon Festival (this overlaps with the Spud Run & Cabbage Crawl)
- Experience a weekend like no other at the upcoming Cabbage, Potato, and Bacon Festival! This lively event offers a delightful mix of entertainment, highlighted by The Great Hastings Mow Down Lawn Mower Races that promise to ignite your excitement. Whether you're a seasoned runner or just love a good challenge, lace up your shoes for The Spud Run 5K & 10K, where fitness meets festival spirit.
- Join in on community tours, captivating cooking demonstrations, and more. Indulge in local flavors at the outdoor market, and mark your calendars for the not-to-be-missed Chef "Taste of Hastings" event on Saturday evening, featuring live music and a silent auction.
- But that's not all – aspiring queens, step into the spotlight and compete for the coveted title of Miss Potato Queen! Open to contestants from surrounding counties, this highly anticipated beauty pageant offers age categories from newborns to 23 years old. Set to unfold on April 27 and 28, 2024, it promises to be a celebration of charm, elegance, and youthful exuberance.
- Don't miss out on this celebration of community, flavors, and festivities !
- 7 AM - Spud Run 5K, 10K and Fun Run (starts from 6195 S. Main Street)
- 9 AM–4 PM - Outdoor Artisans Market Opens (along North Main Street)
- 9:30 AM-11 AM - Miss Potato Queen Beauty Pageant on Main Stage at Bozard Field
- 10 AM - Cooking Demo with Chef Hari Pulapaka & Chef Art Smith under the Big Tent on Main Street
- 11 AM - Cooking Demo with Chef Michael Lugo under the Big Tent on Main Street
- 11 AM – 4 PM - Live Music on the Main Stage at Bozard Field
- Live Music Schedule
- SATURDAY
- Bozard Field, N. Main Street, Hastings, FL
- 11 AM-12 PM - Damon Slaughter
- 12 PM-1 PM - The Fabulettes
- 1:00 PM-2:30 PM - Bad Dog Mama
- Swang Set (Looked everywhere and could not find when they are playing.)
- SUNDAY
- 12:00 PM-1:30 PM - Panel Conversation: From Farm to Diner, via Chef under the Big Tent on Main Street
- 1:00 PM-4:30 PM - Great Hastings Mow Down Lawn Mower Races
- 6:00 PM -9:30 PM - “Taste of Hastings” Ticketed Chef Event, 301 N. Main Street, Hastings
Cars & Coffee
- Created as a way for car lovers to socialize with other car enthusiasts, Cars & Coffee brings people together around a common interest. The Classic Car Museum hosts locals and visitors on the fourth Saturday of each month for a morning meet-and-greet. Guests bond over coffee while discussing, admiring, and learning about classic cars. Local car businesses and experts usually add to the lively conversations.
- Cars & Coffee promises free coffee and donuts every fourth Saturday.
- Admission: Free for the outdoor event; admission to the museum is half-price.
- When: 8:00 to 10:00 a.m., on the fourth Saturday of the month, except December.
- Where: The Classic Car Museum of St. Augustine is located at 4730 US-1 in St. Augustine, Florida 32086.
Amphitheatre Farmers Market
- The St. Augustine Amphitheatre Farmers Market offers visitors a variety of goods such as local fresh produce, handmade arts and crafts, baked goods, plants directly off the farm, freshly-caught seafood, cheeses, and more. The farmers market makes for a morning of family-friendly fun with live entertainment on select dates.
- In addition to the impressive variety of organic produce offered by local farmers, a number of local artists and craftspeople also display their wares at the market.
- Admission: FREE
- Where: St. Augustine Amphitheatre located at 1340 A1A South St. Augustine, FL 32080.
- When: Every Saturday morning from 8:30 am - 12:30 pm.
K9s United 9K, 5K, & 1-Mile Run
- K9s United presents the annual 9K, 5K, and 1-mile runs on Saturday, April 27, 2024. The 9K and 5K runs begin at 8:00 a.m. and the 1-mile run begins at 9:00 a.m. Both races take place at the Ring Power Corporate Headquarters Complex at 500 World Commerce Pkwy.
- This annual event raises funds for K9s United, a non-profit organization honoring the service and tragic death of K9 Officer Baron, a member of the St. Johns County Sheriff's Office.
- In addition to the races, there will be activities available for all ages, including K9 demonstrations, music, a K9 photo booth, and activities for kids.
- Participants have the option of participating both in-person and virtually and will receive participant medals. Register for this event by April 17th to guarantee your event t-shirt or dog bandana.
Cabbage, Potato, & Bacon Festival
- Hastings Main Street presents the annual Cabbage, Potato, & Bacon Festival on Saturday, April 27, and Sunday, April 28, 2024 at The Venue in Hastings, Florida. This two-day agricultural celebration kicks off at 10:00 a.m. on both days. On Saturday, the festivities end at 4:30 p.m., while on Sunday, the event will extend until 3:00 p.m.
- This family-friendly event features a variety of activities including the Great Mow Down Lawnmower Race, the 2024 Spud Run and Cabbage Crawl, pig racing, cooking demonstrations, and a tasting zone. Guests can also explore an outdoor artisan market, enjoy live music, eat at a variety of food trucks, and take advantage of the children's play zone.
- Admission: This event is free, except for the tasting zone and the Spud Run & Cabbage Crawl. The cost for the tasting event is $35.00 per person.
- When: Saturday and Sunday, April 27 and 28, 2024. This event begins at 10:00 a.m. on both days and ends at 4:30 p.m. on Saturday, April 27, 2024, and at 3:00 p.m. on Sunday, April 28, 2024.
- Where: The Venue, 301 N. Main Street, Hastings, Florida 32145
12th Annual Roscolusa Songwriters Festival
- The 12th Annual Roscolusa festival, featuring Nashville singers and songwriters, will take place on Saturday, April 27, 2024, in Ponte Vedra Beach.
- Festival-goers will enjoy country music, performed by the original songwriters, and hear stories about the songs and the songwriters' lives. The festival also includes a variety of food trucks along with beer and wine vendors.
- Admission for 2023: General Admission is $25.00 per person. A Cooler Pass (40 quarts or smaller) is available for $30.00 per cooler. (Soft drinks, food, beer, and wine are allowed. Hard liquor is not.) VIP tickets are $100.00 per person and include two drink tickets, complimentary food, and one free cooler pass. The VIP ticket also includes premier parking, access to a private stage viewing area as well as an air-conditioned facilities trailer.
- Admission for 2024: We assume the same ticket types will be available. Tickets will go on sale on February 1, 2024, and can be purchased on their website.
- When: Saturday, April 27, 2024, from 5:00 to 10:30 p.m.
- Where: The festival takes place at 245 Nocatee Center Way in Ponte Vedra, Florida 32081
Cruise for a Cause - 2024
- Florida Water Tours hosts a sunset cruise to benefit Florida Water Warriors on Saturday, April 27, 2024, from 6:00 to 9:00 p.m. The evening starts at 6:00 with a silent auction, complimentary wine, and refreshments. At 7:30 p.m., two vessels — the 45' Osprey and the 35' Island Breeze — will leave the dock for a 90-minute sunset cruise.
- During the sunset cruise, guests may partake of savory tidbits and sweet desserts prepared by Floating Food Company. There will be a cash bar on board each vessel. Both vessels are U.S. Coast Guard certified and have a restroom and covered seating.
- Florida Water Warriors takes children in elementary, middle, and high school on boat tours with marine scientists and educators. Their fundraising efforts, which continue year-round, help them ensure that all children can afford the boat experience.
- Admission: $79.00 per person.
- When: Saturday, April 27, 2024. From 6:00 to 7:15 p.m., there will be a silent auction reception. Boarding begins at 7:15, and the boats leave the dock at 7:30 p.m.
- Where: The boats leave from Dock A-19, at Camachee Yacht Harbor, 107 Yacht Club Drive, St. Augustine, Florida.
Magic Hideaway
- The setting for this evening of magic and mind-reading is an intimate theater draped with red velvet in the Casa Monica Resort and Spa. There, Bill Abbott dazzles the audience during an entertaining and surprising show.
- About Bill Abbott
- Bill launched his career in Toronto, where he perfected his "close-up" magician act. He has been named Canadian Magician of the Year by the Canadian Association of Magicians, and performed in thousands of shows in 11 countries. Bill has performed in venues of every size, headlining at the Chicago Magic Lounge, the Magic Castle in Hollywood, and the House of Cards in Nashville. More recently, he and his wife, Rebecca, have created an intimate magic show, in a small, luxurious theater in the Casa Monica Resort and Spa.
- What to Expect
- One needs to expect the unexpected in this one-person magic show, however, there are some things you can count on.
- Arrive at 6:00 p.m. and check in for exclusive access to the VIP area. Your ticket entitles you to a complimentary cocktail and the opportunity to enjoy Bill's pre-show sleight-of-hand at your table.
- The House Manager will invite you into the Magic Hideaway, where Bill's magic and mind-reading will astound you.
- The early show runs from 6:45 to 8:00 p.m. and the late show runs from 9:15 to 10:30 p.m.
- After the show, the evening ends with the opportunity to meet Bill for a photo and autograph.
- When: There are two shows on Saturdays, one starts at 6:00 p.m. and the second at 8:30 p.m.
- Where: Casa Monica Resort and Spa, 95 Cordova Street, St. Augustine, Florida 32084.
- Parking: Valet parking at Casa Monica Resort and Spa is $25.00. Those who order dinner entrees from the Cordova Restaurant pay only $5.00 for valet parking. Alternatively, parking can be found on the street and at various parking lots throughout the Historic Downtown. Be sure to leave time to park and get to the Casa Monica in time to check-in with the Magic Hideaway host.
- Additional information: Cameras and smartphones may not be used during the show. There is time for photos with the magician at the cocktail reception and after the show. There is no dress code. Many choose to wear business casual or cocktail attire. The show is appropriate for children. Children ages 12 and under must be accompanied by an adult.
Love Your Mother Eco Fashion Show
- Co-hosted by Panache St. Augustine and Blue Water Jewelers, the Love Your Mother Eco Fashion Show teams up with Matanzas Riverkeeper to present their annual fundraiser to benefit St. Augustine's rivers. The event will begin at 6:30 p.m. and the doors will open at 6:00 p.m., on April 27, 2024, with the fashion show officially starting at 7:00 p.m.
- Lovers of fashion, music, makeup, hair, AND the environment will relish in the Love Your Mother Eco Fashion Show. A portion of the event funds will be donated to the Matanzas Riverkeeper, a local non-profit whose mission is protecting the health of our local waterways. In addition, all of the outfits on display during Love Your Mother will be created with recycled materials.
- Along with viewing these looks on the runway, you will enjoy hearing the stories behind each creation. Beverages and food will be available for purchase.
- Admission: Prices range from $65.00 - $125.00.
- When: Saturday, April 27, 2024, from 6:00 p.m. - 10:00 p.m.
- Where: Bluewater Jewelers, 500 Anastasia Boulevard, St. Augustine, Florida 32084
Eliot Lewis at Cafe Eleven
- Café Eleven welcomes Eliot Lewis on Saturday, April 27, 2024, at 8:00 p.m.
- Eliot Lewis, a versatile artist, gained recognition for his contributions to the Hall & Oates Band and The Average White Band. He started his musical journey by forming a band at the age of 12, drawing inspiration from icons like Stevie Wonder, Tom Wolk, and Billy Preston. In his teenage years, Lewis crafted his compositions and independently learned to play five different instruments.
- Throughout his career, Lewis collaborated with notable figures such as Dan Hartman and Tina Turner, receiving acclaim for his musical prowess. His solo projects include albums like Standing on Top of the World, 6 & One, Enjoy the Ride, Live and Up Front, and Crusade.
- Admission: Tickets cost $20.00 if purchased in advance and $25.00 on the day of the show. Reserved table seating costs $30.00. Purchase tickets in advance online or purchase them at Café Eleven on the day of the show.
- When: Saturday, April 27, 2024, at 8:00 p.m.
- Where: Café Eleven, 501 A1A Beach Blvd, St. Augustine, Florida 32080. On the corner of A1A and 11th Street, one block from St. Augustine Beach.
GTM Beach Cleanup
- April 27 @ 9:30 am - 11:30 am
- Recurring Event
- On the fourth Saturday of the month, help remove marine debris and microplastics off the beach during GTM Beach Cleanup — 9:30am-11:30am. Enjoy the beautiful view and being out in nature while helping clean up the beach!
- Meet at the Visitor Center. That’s where you’ll pick up gloves and trash bags that are provided. Then you’ll be directed to a specific beach for cleanup.
- No need to sign up ahead of time. Open to the public. Just show up to lend a hand. Don’t forget to bring your sunscreen, hat, insect repellent, and water!
Fish Island Walking Tour
- April 27 @ 10:00 am - 12:00 pm
- FREE
- Join the City of St. Augustine in celebrating “Earth Month” on the Fish Island Walking Tour. Learn about the history of the property as well as the plants and animals living there.
- When: Saturday, April 27, 2024 — 10:00am-12:00pm
- Be sure to wear your walking shoes and bring water … and don’t forget the bug spray.
- Click the event website link to register for this Free event as spaces are limited.
Pelican Pub Poker Run - St. Augustine Humane Society Event!
- April 27 @ 10:30 am
- Come join the fun at the Pelican Pub Poker Run on Saturday, April 27, 2024 …. benefiting the St. Augustine Humane Society to support our life-saving programs!
- Registration: 10:30am Kick Stands Up: 11:00am
- 2, 3, and 4 wheels Welcome!
- Raffle * 50/50
- Cost: $20.00 per Rider / $10.00 Passenger
Fish Island Walking Tour
- Come join us for an Earth Day walk at Fish Island Preserve from 10:00 am – noon on Saturday, April 27. We will talk about the history of the property and the plants and animals that live there. Bring walking shoes, water, and bug spray (just in case)!
- Date: April 27, 2024
- Time: 10:00 AM - 12:00 PM
- Location: Fish Island: Plantation Island Dr S, St. Augustine, FL 32080
- Address: Plantation Island Dr S,St. Augustine, FL 32080
I am unable to post the sources because they are getting flagged as spam since they are all similar in name. So please visit this site for the list.
Written out urls here tinyurl.com/yjkw32kd
For future events please visit the Discord.
https://discord.gg/NG4eZSWAgR2024.04.27 04:11 St_Augustine_Discord Live Music and Events Saturday April 27th Check out the Cabbage, Potato and Bacon Festival!
Live Music
- Damon Slaughter, 408 Main Street Hastings, 11:00 am – 12:00 pm
- Bret Blackshear, Marina Munch, 12:00 pm – 4:00 pm
- Evan D, Crabby's Beachside, 12:00 pm – 3:00 pm
- Yael Dray and ZaZa Flamenca, The Cellar Upstairs Wine Bar & Restaurant, 1:00 pm – 4:00 pm
- Trevor Compton, Backyard Island Cafe at Meehan's, 1:00 pm – 4:00 pm
- Chillula, Pierre's Pub, 1:00 pm – 5:00 pm
- Paper City Hustlers, Conch House Marina Resort, 3:00 pm – 7:00 pm
- Vinny Jacobs, The Tides Oyster Co. & Grill, 5:00 pm – 8:00 pm
- Josh Ford, Crabby's Beachside, 5:00 pm – 8:00 pm
- Dunehoppers, Marina Munch, 5:00 pm – 8:00 pm
- Dewey Via Band, Fish House & Oyster Co., 5:00 pm – 9:00 pm
- Mark Hart, Tradewinds Lounge, 5:00 pm – 8:00 pm
- Burn Unit, Fuzion 904 Eatery, 6:00 pm – 9:00 pm
- Committee, The Cellar Upstairs Wine Bar & Restaurant, 6:00 pm – 10:00 pm
- Christian Powers, Mellow Mushroom — Murabella, 6:00 pm – 9:00 pm
- Jesse Cruce, Mellow Mushroom — St. Johns, 6:00 pm – 9:00 pm
- Brian Rowland, Mellow Mushroom — Anastasia Island, 6:00 pm – 9:00 pm
- Denny Blue, Guy Harvey Resort, 6:00 pm – 9:00 pm
- Dion & Collins, Ebb Tide Poolside Bar & Grill, 6:00 pm – 9:00 pm
- Smokestack, Colonial Oak Music Park, 7:00 pm – 10:00 pm
- Lords of Surf, Crabby's Beachside, 7:00 pm – 10:00 pm
- Yael Dray and ZaZa Flamenca, Casa Maya, 7:00 pm – 10:00 pm
- Doug Carn, Chez L'Amour, 7:00 pm – 10:00 pm
- Jolie, Casa de Vino 57, 7:00 pm – 10:00 pm
- Erica Reese, Spinster Abbott's Taproom, 7:00 pm – 10:00 pm
- Heather Craig, Meehan's Irish Pub & Seafood House, 8:00 pm – 11:00 pm
- Josh Ford, Mill Top Tavern, 9:00 pm – 12:00 pm
Spud Run & Cabbage Crawl 2024
- Farm Bureau Insurance presents the Spud Run & Cabbage Crawl at 7:00 a.m. on Saturday, April 27, 2024. This annual event in Hastings, Florida celebrates the city's agricultural contributions. Race proceeds benefit agricultural education efforts, such as 4-H, Future Farmers of America, and Farm City Week.
- This year's race includes 5K, 10K, and 15K courses, and a Cabbage Crawl kids run. The 5K and 10K courses are USATF-certified and professionally timed and scored. This event is part of Hastings' annual Cabbage, Potato & Bacon Festival.
- Event Schedule
- 6:00 a.m. - Registration/packet pick-up begins
- 7:00 a.m. - 15K start
- 7:00 a.m. - 10K start
- 8:30 a.m. - 5K start
- 9:30 a.m. - Fun Run start
- Event Information
- Admission: Register for this event by April 1, 2024, to receive a Spud Run 2024 race-day shirt.
The Annual Cabbage, Potato and Bacon Festival (this overlaps with the Spud Run & Cabbage Crawl)
- Experience a weekend like no other at the upcoming Cabbage, Potato, and Bacon Festival! This lively event offers a delightful mix of entertainment, highlighted by The Great Hastings Mow Down Lawn Mower Races that promise to ignite your excitement. Whether you're a seasoned runner or just love a good challenge, lace up your shoes for The Spud Run 5K & 10K, where fitness meets festival spirit.
- Join in on community tours, captivating cooking demonstrations, and more. Indulge in local flavors at the outdoor market, and mark your calendars for the not-to-be-missed Chef "Taste of Hastings" event on Saturday evening, featuring live music and a silent auction.
- But that's not all – aspiring queens, step into the spotlight and compete for the coveted title of Miss Potato Queen! Open to contestants from surrounding counties, this highly anticipated beauty pageant offers age categories from newborns to 23 years old. Set to unfold on April 27 and 28, 2024, it promises to be a celebration of charm, elegance, and youthful exuberance.
- Don't miss out on this celebration of community, flavors, and festivities !
- 7 AM - Spud Run 5K, 10K and Fun Run (starts from 6195 S. Main Street)
- 9 AM–4 PM - Outdoor Artisans Market Opens (along North Main Street)
- 9:30 AM-11 AM - Miss Potato Queen Beauty Pageant on Main Stage at Bozard Field
- 10 AM - Cooking Demo with Chef Hari Pulapaka & Chef Art Smith under the Big Tent on Main Street
- 11 AM - Cooking Demo with Chef Michael Lugo under the Big Tent on Main Street
- 11 AM – 4 PM - Live Music on the Main Stage at Bozard Field
- Live Music Schedule
- SATURDAY
- Bozard Field, N. Main Street, Hastings, FL
- 11 AM-12 PM - Damon Slaughter
- 12 PM-1 PM - The Fabulettes
- 1:00 PM-2:30 PM - Bad Dog Mama
- Swang Set (Looked everywhere and could not find when they are playing.)
- SUNDAY
- 12:00 PM-1:30 PM - Panel Conversation: From Farm to Diner, via Chef under the Big Tent on Main Street
- 1:00 PM-4:30 PM - Great Hastings Mow Down Lawn Mower Races
- 6:00 PM -9:30 PM - “Taste of Hastings” Ticketed Chef Event, 301 N. Main Street, Hastings
Cars & Coffee
- Created as a way for car lovers to socialize with other car enthusiasts, Cars & Coffee brings people together around a common interest. The Classic Car Museum hosts locals and visitors on the fourth Saturday of each month for a morning meet-and-greet. Guests bond over coffee while discussing, admiring, and learning about classic cars. Local car businesses and experts usually add to the lively conversations.
- Cars & Coffee promises free coffee and donuts every fourth Saturday.
- Admission: Free for the outdoor event; admission to the museum is half-price.
- When: 8:00 to 10:00 a.m., on the fourth Saturday of the month, except December.
- Where: The Classic Car Museum of St. Augustine is located at 4730 US-1 in St. Augustine, Florida 32086.
Amphitheatre Farmers Market
- The St. Augustine Amphitheatre Farmers Market offers visitors a variety of goods such as local fresh produce, handmade arts and crafts, baked goods, plants directly off the farm, freshly-caught seafood, cheeses, and more. The farmers market makes for a morning of family-friendly fun with live entertainment on select dates.
- In addition to the impressive variety of organic produce offered by local farmers, a number of local artists and craftspeople also display their wares at the market.
- Admission: FREE
- Where: St. Augustine Amphitheatre located at 1340 A1A South St. Augustine, FL 32080.
- When: Every Saturday morning from 8:30 am - 12:30 pm.
K9s United 9K, 5K, & 1-Mile Run
- K9s United presents the annual 9K, 5K, and 1-mile runs on Saturday, April 27, 2024. The 9K and 5K runs begin at 8:00 a.m. and the 1-mile run begins at 9:00 a.m. Both races take place at the Ring Power Corporate Headquarters Complex at 500 World Commerce Pkwy.
- This annual event raises funds for K9s United, a non-profit organization honoring the service and tragic death of K9 Officer Baron, a member of the St. Johns County Sheriff's Office.
- In addition to the races, there will be activities available for all ages, including K9 demonstrations, music, a K9 photo booth, and activities for kids.
- Participants have the option of participating both in-person and virtually and will receive participant medals. Register for this event by April 17th to guarantee your event t-shirt or dog bandana.
Cabbage, Potato, & Bacon Festival
- Hastings Main Street presents the annual Cabbage, Potato, & Bacon Festival on Saturday, April 27, and Sunday, April 28, 2024 at The Venue in Hastings, Florida. This two-day agricultural celebration kicks off at 10:00 a.m. on both days. On Saturday, the festivities end at 4:30 p.m., while on Sunday, the event will extend until 3:00 p.m.
- This family-friendly event features a variety of activities including the Great Mow Down Lawnmower Race, the 2024 Spud Run and Cabbage Crawl, pig racing, cooking demonstrations, and a tasting zone. Guests can also explore an outdoor artisan market, enjoy live music, eat at a variety of food trucks, and take advantage of the children's play zone.
- Admission: This event is free, except for the tasting zone and the Spud Run & Cabbage Crawl. The cost for the tasting event is $35.00 per person.
- When: Saturday and Sunday, April 27 and 28, 2024. This event begins at 10:00 a.m. on both days and ends at 4:30 p.m. on Saturday, April 27, 2024, and at 3:00 p.m. on Sunday, April 28, 2024.
- Where: The Venue, 301 N. Main Street, Hastings, Florida 32145
12th Annual Roscolusa Songwriters Festival
- The 12th Annual Roscolusa festival, featuring Nashville singers and songwriters, will take place on Saturday, April 27, 2024, in Ponte Vedra Beach.
- Festival-goers will enjoy country music, performed by the original songwriters, and hear stories about the songs and the songwriters' lives. The festival also includes a variety of food trucks along with beer and wine vendors.
- Admission for 2023: General Admission is $25.00 per person. A Cooler Pass (40 quarts or smaller) is available for $30.00 per cooler. (Soft drinks, food, beer, and wine are allowed. Hard liquor is not.) VIP tickets are $100.00 per person and include two drink tickets, complimentary food, and one free cooler pass. The VIP ticket also includes premier parking, access to a private stage viewing area as well as an air-conditioned facilities trailer.
- Admission for 2024: We assume the same ticket types will be available. Tickets will go on sale on February 1, 2024, and can be purchased on their website.
- When: Saturday, April 27, 2024, from 5:00 to 10:30 p.m.
- Where: The festival takes place at 245 Nocatee Center Way in Ponte Vedra, Florida 32081
Cruise for a Cause - 2024
- Florida Water Tours hosts a sunset cruise to benefit Florida Water Warriors on Saturday, April 27, 2024, from 6:00 to 9:00 p.m. The evening starts at 6:00 with a silent auction, complimentary wine, and refreshments. At 7:30 p.m., two vessels — the 45' Osprey and the 35' Island Breeze — will leave the dock for a 90-minute sunset cruise.
- During the sunset cruise, guests may partake of savory tidbits and sweet desserts prepared by Floating Food Company. There will be a cash bar on board each vessel. Both vessels are U.S. Coast Guard certified and have a restroom and covered seating.
- Florida Water Warriors takes children in elementary, middle, and high school on boat tours with marine scientists and educators. Their fundraising efforts, which continue year-round, help them ensure that all children can afford the boat experience.
- Admission: $79.00 per person.
- When: Saturday, April 27, 2024. From 6:00 to 7:15 p.m., there will be a silent auction reception. Boarding begins at 7:15, and the boats leave the dock at 7:30 p.m.
- Where: The boats leave from Dock A-19, at Camachee Yacht Harbor, 107 Yacht Club Drive, St. Augustine, Florida.
Magic Hideaway
- The setting for this evening of magic and mind-reading is an intimate theater draped with red velvet in the Casa Monica Resort and Spa. There, Bill Abbott dazzles the audience during an entertaining and surprising show.
- About Bill Abbott
- Bill launched his career in Toronto, where he perfected his "close-up" magician act. He has been named Canadian Magician of the Year by the Canadian Association of Magicians, and performed in thousands of shows in 11 countries. Bill has performed in venues of every size, headlining at the Chicago Magic Lounge, the Magic Castle in Hollywood, and the House of Cards in Nashville. More recently, he and his wife, Rebecca, have created an intimate magic show, in a small, luxurious theater in the Casa Monica Resort and Spa.
- What to Expect
- One needs to expect the unexpected in this one-person magic show, however, there are some things you can count on.
- Arrive at 6:00 p.m. and check in for exclusive access to the VIP area. Your ticket entitles you to a complimentary cocktail and the opportunity to enjoy Bill's pre-show sleight-of-hand at your table.
- The House Manager will invite you into the Magic Hideaway, where Bill's magic and mind-reading will astound you.
- The early show runs from 6:45 to 8:00 p.m. and the late show runs from 9:15 to 10:30 p.m.
- After the show, the evening ends with the opportunity to meet Bill for a photo and autograph.
- When: There are two shows on Saturdays, one starts at 6:00 p.m. and the second at 8:30 p.m.
- Where: Casa Monica Resort and Spa, 95 Cordova Street, St. Augustine, Florida 32084.
- Parking: Valet parking at Casa Monica Resort and Spa is $25.00. Those who order dinner entrees from the Cordova Restaurant pay only $5.00 for valet parking. Alternatively, parking can be found on the street and at various parking lots throughout the Historic Downtown. Be sure to leave time to park and get to the Casa Monica in time to check-in with the Magic Hideaway host.
- Additional information: Cameras and smartphones may not be used during the show. There is time for photos with the magician at the cocktail reception and after the show. There is no dress code. Many choose to wear business casual or cocktail attire. The show is appropriate for children. Children ages 12 and under must be accompanied by an adult.
Love Your Mother Eco Fashion Show
- Co-hosted by Panache St. Augustine and Blue Water Jewelers, the Love Your Mother Eco Fashion Show teams up with Matanzas Riverkeeper to present their annual fundraiser to benefit St. Augustine's rivers. The event will begin at 6:30 p.m. and the doors will open at 6:00 p.m., on April 27, 2024, with the fashion show officially starting at 7:00 p.m.
- Lovers of fashion, music, makeup, hair, AND the environment will relish in the Love Your Mother Eco Fashion Show. A portion of the event funds will be donated to the Matanzas Riverkeeper, a local non-profit whose mission is protecting the health of our local waterways. In addition, all of the outfits on display during Love Your Mother will be created with recycled materials.
- Along with viewing these looks on the runway, you will enjoy hearing the stories behind each creation. Beverages and food will be available for purchase.
- Admission: Prices range from $65.00 - $125.00.
- When: Saturday, April 27, 2024, from 6:00 p.m. - 10:00 p.m.
- Where: Bluewater Jewelers, 500 Anastasia Boulevard, St. Augustine, Florida 32084
Eliot Lewis at Cafe Eleven
- Café Eleven welcomes Eliot Lewis on Saturday, April 27, 2024, at 8:00 p.m.
- Eliot Lewis, a versatile artist, gained recognition for his contributions to the Hall & Oates Band and The Average White Band. He started his musical journey by forming a band at the age of 12, drawing inspiration from icons like Stevie Wonder, Tom Wolk, and Billy Preston. In his teenage years, Lewis crafted his compositions and independently learned to play five different instruments.
- Throughout his career, Lewis collaborated with notable figures such as Dan Hartman and Tina Turner, receiving acclaim for his musical prowess. His solo projects include albums like Standing on Top of the World, 6 & One, Enjoy the Ride, Live and Up Front, and Crusade.
- Admission: Tickets cost $20.00 if purchased in advance and $25.00 on the day of the show. Reserved table seating costs $30.00. Purchase tickets in advance online or purchase them at Café Eleven on the day of the show.
- When: Saturday, April 27, 2024, at 8:00 p.m.
- Where: Café Eleven, 501 A1A Beach Blvd, St. Augustine, Florida 32080. On the corner of A1A and 11th Street, one block from St. Augustine Beach.
GTM Beach Cleanup
- April 27 @ 9:30 am - 11:30 am
- Recurring Event
- On the fourth Saturday of the month, help remove marine debris and microplastics off the beach during GTM Beach Cleanup — 9:30am-11:30am. Enjoy the beautiful view and being out in nature while helping clean up the beach!
- Meet at the Visitor Center. That’s where you’ll pick up gloves and trash bags that are provided. Then you’ll be directed to a specific beach for cleanup.
- No need to sign up ahead of time. Open to the public. Just show up to lend a hand. Don’t forget to bring your sunscreen, hat, insect repellent, and water!
Fish Island Walking Tour
- April 27 @ 10:00 am - 12:00 pm
- FREE
- Join the City of St. Augustine in celebrating “Earth Month” on the Fish Island Walking Tour. Learn about the history of the property as well as the plants and animals living there.
- When: Saturday, April 27, 2024 — 10:00am-12:00pm
- Be sure to wear your walking shoes and bring water … and don’t forget the bug spray.
- Click the event website link to register for this Free event as spaces are limited.
Pelican Pub Poker Run - St. Augustine Humane Society Event!
- April 27 @ 10:30 am
- Come join the fun at the Pelican Pub Poker Run on Saturday, April 27, 2024 …. benefiting the St. Augustine Humane Society to support our life-saving programs!
- Registration: 10:30am Kick Stands Up: 11:00am
- 2, 3, and 4 wheels Welcome!
- Raffle * 50/50
- Cost: $20.00 per Rider / $10.00 Passenger
Fish Island Walking Tour
- Come join us for an Earth Day walk at Fish Island Preserve from 10:00 am – noon on Saturday, April 27. We will talk about the history of the property and the plants and animals that live there. Bring walking shoes, water, and bug spray (just in case)!
- Date: April 27, 2024
- Time: 10:00 AM - 12:00 PM
- Location: Fish Island: Plantation Island Dr S, St. Augustine, FL 32080
- Address: Plantation Island Dr S,St. Augustine, FL 32080
Written out urls here tinyurl.com/yjkw32kd
For future events please visit the Discord.
https://discord.gg/NG4eZSWAgR2024.04.27 03:36 linkofthedeath janitors at my warehouse job get paid the most and do nothing smh
 | if you live in the east coast and shop at (giant food) be ware.....this is how their warehouse looks smh you should see their chicken and seafood aísle 🤢🤢🤢🤮🤮🤮🤮 oh sometimes when they drop veggies and fruits they just pick it up and put it back on the line to be picked and sent to the stores 🫢 we had a inspection and these guys made sure they had that warehouse spotless to get a high score but the next day back to the same shit DONT SHOP AT GIANT submitted by linkofthedeath to mildlyinfuriating [link] [comments] |
2024.04.27 01:58 CPU_Dragon JoJo's Bizarre OC Tournament #7: R2M17 - Paranoia and Lucil Caravan vs Nojus Ipolitas and Raspberry Beret
The results are in for Match 15. The winner is…
For Kid Savage, sound around him had begun to dull.
He didn’t hear Moony’s excited chatter beside him, telling him how fine this all was.
He didn’t hear the gunshots firing from just nearby.
He didn’t even hear his own breath, or the heart pounding in his ears.
No, he didn’t hear a thing. All of his senses had faded, as if to focus in completely on the bodies hanging from the power lines. There were more than just the one Moony had thrown, ones he hadn’t noticed until now, all strung up and hanging limp.
His nausea waned.
Suddenly, something broke through that impenetrable silence. Footsteps. Heavy, slow footfalls, just behind him.
The events of that night were already playing back in his head. He knew this part. The end. When he had stared down death, and when slowly, surely, someone else was there. Was he imagining it?
“Been a while. I figured I might see something like this from you.”
No, he was not. That was the voice from back then - the voice that had saved his life. He turned, broken out of his trance, to face Rasna Kaliya. Just like that night. As if he were on a loop.
“Welcome to the land of kings. You want to be a king, kid? You want power? Here it is.”
“Y-You...”
“I heard gunshots.” The ex-leader of Vulture stretched her arms above her head, staring down at the hanging corpses. “And... My favorite food truck was closed.”
“Ahaha, sorry about that!” Moony giggled, placing her hands on Kid’s shoulders, ignoring the way that he jolted at the touch. “As you can see, we were a little preoccupied~! Funky Kitchen’ll be open tomorrow!”
“Hmm.” Rasna didn’t look at her. Kid glanced between them - did Moony know this woman? He’d have to get her to explain later.
“Y’know, we’re actually just about to go get dinner with some, er... Friends. Wanna come?”
“No thanks.” Rasna spun on her heel, making her way back to the building’s stairwell. “I think I’ve seen enough. All four of you... Hah. Nevermind.”
As she left, Moony had the vaguest feeling that she had done something wrong—but it faded in an instant, washed away with blood. That’s right! It’s time for free food!
Kid Savage thought to himself that this may be the worst thing that had ever happened to him. No, scratch that. Worse things had definitely happened. The worst thing would be the Middleman, and the second worst would have to be the events of earlier tonight. This was the third worst moment in his life, then.
“Are you listening, boy?” Ouroboros’s arm landed over his shoulders, shaking him around a bit. “I’m telling you, this story’s a classic! Not many chances to hear tales all the way from Ancient Greece, no?”
He really, really wished he was sitting next to Moony right now. He wasn’t entirely sure what was going wrong with her, but at least she wouldn’t have been so... Like this. They were the only customers in the diner Ouroboros had chosen, the rest probably scared away. He did not like this arrangement. It didn’t look like Moony did, either. She’d had the bad luck of being seated next to one Honeydew Blue, who’d taken a particular interest in the jacket Moony was wearing.
“Uhm...” Moony looked incredibly uncomfortable—it was the most negative emotion Kid had seen from her all night. “Miss, w-would you, er, stop sniffing that? Y-You got the point across the first time...”
Honeydew ignored her, and had now switched back to staring way too hard at Kid. She was still wearing his jacket, for fuck’s sake!
“Anyway, anyway!” Ouro continued his rant, grinning all the while. “Our story begins back in, er, when was it...”
Maybe this was worse than earlier tonight, actually, thought Kid, who wished with all of his heart he had taken the outer seat in the booth.
Looking for something more relaxing? How about a game of golf?
(Shoutouts to u/DSOddish for the match concept!)
Scenario: Port Konwar — 1:36AM
Port Konwar, the logistics and transport center of Rākinnagarh: while a large boon to the city’s economy thanks to the trade and industry the area provided, the port itself does not find as much money poured into supporting it as is exchanged within it to the city at large or its trade partners—and what does find its way to the section of the city does little to help poverty levels similar to that in the neighboring Bedtown.
However, while Bedtown holds little economic value beyond the factories that still have life left in them, Port Konwar is the subject of much more economic interest and as such the city has made sure the area is better policed—the military presence in the area also served to reduce the crime rate in public, but behind closed doors and in dark alleyways it still persists.
The docks were a microcosm of all of this: ships came and went with goods for trade, the area built up exactly as needed and not much more, all built to last in utilitarian fashion. An officer walked up to one of the incoming ships as the small crew started to unload their cargo, coming to a halt as he waited for one of the men to toss him his bribe so he could pretend the smuggling they were partaking in never happened—the exchange shadowed by the larger vessel that docked in to another part of the docks to begin loading up with the contents of the next train to arrive at the nearby station.
A series of light, yet hurried steps slapped against the concrete path alongside the docks. Two shadows clung to the nearest brick wall, one lithe and tall, followed by a deceptively average build. The tall one shimmied against the wall, her eyes striking various spots around her surroundings. As another set of steps approached, the figure froze flat, gripping the other one’s shoulder to pull her back. Sweat beaded down her forehead as two men in matching overalls walked past, a sleeping tiger embroidered on their backs. She swallowed a bit of air, hoping desperately that not a single bead of sweat would dare drip off of her face. Her light-haired partner held her breath, trying her best not to move an inch, a monumental task, to be sure.
Once the guards had moved well past the wall, Lucil Caravan gripped her knees as she gasped for air. She didn’t know how long she had been holding it for, but it must’ve been for an eternity, given how sweet the sensation of breathing felt to her at that moment. She looked up to her partner, who had just finished unwrapping a lollipop.
“Hey, Brighid?” Lucil wheezed. Brighid didn’t respond, as she was immediately turned around, peering behind the wall. She must not have heard her.
“Hey,” she said once more. “What are we doing here, again?”
“Weren’t you paying attention, silly?” a voice chimed from inside Lucil’s pocket, causing her to jump a centimeter off the ground. Gripping her heart, Lucil reached into the pocket, pulling out her burner phone. The small, green LED screen illuminated the lower part of her face, which frowned at the sight of a little jumping envelope stuttering across the screen, a white “1” surrounded by a red square. With a sigh, she flipped open the phone, revealing a feminine form on the screen inside. She twirled her purple hair between her fingers while waving a friendly greeting.
“Can you blame a girl for being distracted?” Lucil said as a matter of fact. “We both know Brighid can get a heavy with the details. Hard to keep them all straight.” She shot a look over to the lawyer, who was still taking note of the scenery behind them, jotting something down furiously in her notepad. “Besides, her energy lately has been throwing me for a loop.” Lucil turned back to her phone. “Don’t you find this all a little weird?”
A chuckle sparked out of the phone, its staccato rhythm causing Lucil to wince. “Well, I suppose I can’t blame you,” Paranoia said with an incredibly sad face. “Humans can only process so much information at a time. You should be careful with how much you give them,” she sang, as she made a grand effort to drag the ‘air’ in front of her into herself. “Give them too much…” her form jittered back and forth, with what looked like smoke pouring out of her ears. Once the image stabilized, she wore a big smile, her head tilted slightly askew. “...and their brains will turn into mush!”
Lucil rolled her eyes. “Yeah, sure. Now, are you going to tell me what we’re doing here, or what?”
Paranoia crossed her arms, resting her chin on her left hand. “That dep~~ends.”
“-On?”
Paranoia flickered once more, revealing her to be lying down, seemingly in midair, kicking her legs. “We haven’t really gotten to know each other, have we? We work at the same place, greet the same faces.” A puzzled look plastered itself onto the virus. “But I don’t know a thing about you!”
Lucil looked up from her phone, out into the dimly lit street they had just come from. “Is this really the time?”
“How do you expect me to share such vital information with a stranger?” Paranoia pouted. “After all, you could jeopardize the whole mission…”
Lucil glanced over to Brighid, who still had not moved, and then back to Paranoia with a heavy sigh. They were going to be here a while. “Fine, what do you want to know?”
The sound of lead scratching paper was barely audible, an impressive feat given that Brighid Rhodes was vigorously filling her notepad with information. A combination of current observations mixed with crude maps of what looked to be hallways stretched along the pages, her eyes fixed in a forward-facing axis between the pad and the office building ahead of her. The sign above the entrance matched the uniforms of the workers that nearly passed them by. She had watched them enter the premises, and they still hadn’t left. It was odd for employees to be coming in to work this late at night. Though, as she knew well enough, this was nothing new for the Ragged Tiger Shipping Company.
Memories of just a couple nights before ebbed into her head, causing her pencil to slow to a crawl. Images of late night workers, packing crates with tired eyes, tight, concrete hallways with far too many corners, gunshots whizzing past her head. She crunched her lollipop as she grit her teeth. Her investigation had not gone quite the way she had wanted it to, no thanks to her carelessness. She could have risked everything, scraping barely by through luck’s good graces.
She looked down back at her notes, where she had scrawled three more bits of information onto the page. Names: “Le Bon”, “A. Rex”, and “Notorious”, each one circled incessantly, something Brighid figured she was doing unconsciously. Her stoicism cracked for a second, letting the smallest of smiles shine through. She didn’t leave empty handed, however. Despite the odds, she had gotten these names, pried them from fate’s own fickle hands. It was more than she had gotten in years, something she was quite enthusiastic about. However, she still only had about 3 small pieces of this 1000-piece puzzle. Fortunately, she knew just where to find the remaining 997.
“Do you like music?”
“Uh, yeah. I’d say so.”
The virus’ eyes lit up. “Oh really? What kind of music do you like best? I’ve been getting into hyperpop lately, myself.”
“Yeah? Well, I guess I’m more into heavier sounds,” Lucil shrugged. “A little bit of grindcore, some rock, mainly anything with a grungey sound to it.”
Paranoia contemplated this response, pacing back and forth inside the screen. Suddenly, a lightbulb flashed over her head, one a little too round, a bit too bright. “Oh, what a silly question to ask,” she replied. “I suppose I should’ve known, right? You’re in a band, aren’t you?”
“-what?” All the color left Lucil’s face. What did she say? She found herself short of breath again. At the same time, she felt her heartbeat whir from a steady rhythm to a faster beat, as if it was getting ready for a race.
“W-what are you… talking abou-?” is about all she could get out before becoming a statue. Her eyes were affixed to the small screen, a grainy picture of some sort of trio. She recognized them, of course. The girl in the middle was her girlfriend, Agata. The guy on her left was a part of her band. The girl on the left. She dug her fingernails into her palms. That woman was incredibly familiar, a face she’d recognize anywhere. She looked a bit different, of course. Maybe a bit more mature? It could’ve been the lighting. But the tag under her picture labeled: “Lucil”, left nothing to speculation.
Paranoia tilted her head, a look of intense curiosity stuck to her face. “This is you, right? Your band? You must remember, they only performed just a few nights ago.”
“Yep, that’s me,” Lucil spat out, swiftly clasping the phone shut. She could practically hear her heart pounding against her sternum. She was shaking, violently. Lucil’s eyes darted around her phone, unwilling to stare at it directly. Just what was the point of all that? What was Paranoia getting at? Lucil looked back over to Brighid, whose own statue-like movements brought her back to reality. She shook her head, taking a glance at her notebook, which the lawyer was absent-mindedly tapping with the pencil, rounding out the lead.
“Hey, Brighid,” Lucil called out, reaching a hand to her shoulder. She jolted upon contact, turning around with furrowed brows. “What?!”
“Oh, hey! Sorry about that.” Lucil held her hands up. “Just wanted to make sure you were-”
“I’m fine,” Brighid said, brushing her dark hair behind her ears. Her demeanor gradually dulled. “Are you ready to move?”
Lucil frowned. “I, uh, still don’t quite follow-”
“Of course we are!” a cheery voice chirped from the burner phone. Lucil had half a mind to chuck it. While she contemplated how much noise it would actually make, a porcelain hand shot out from the inside of the phone, followed by an arm. The top part of the flip phone lifted up ever so slightly as a small figure eked its way out of the screen. With the phone fully open, the figure fizzled right beside Lucil, as a full-sized Paranoia draped its arm around her, causing the hairs on the back of her neck to stand straight up.
“After all, we’ve got a murder investigation on our hands. And we won’t find anything by just twiddling our thumbs!”
“CANNONBALL!”
SPLOOSH!
“Fuckin’ shit!”
“Ahahaha! Well, you’re the one who asked us along! You should have expected a splash zone!”
Nojus sat down, their chair audibly creaking under their weight as they grabbed a pole, fitting some bait onto it and casting the line. They didn’t seem to care about being similarly soaked to Raspberry, furiously shaking out his shirt.
“Is this normal for the two of you?” Raspberry harrumphed, watching Nojus’ husband swim to the middle of the river, then dive underneath.
“What? No! Normally he’d have tossed me in first.”
“...Dammit.” Raspberry sat down himself. “Didn’t take you for a fisher. Nikki would’a come along but she doesn’t like the thought of killing living things.”
“Haha! I’m not!” Nojus announced. “I have no idea what I’m doing here at all—ha!” They tugged on the rod. “Got a bite!” They stood up, nearly pitched out of their seat by the tugging. “It’s a big one!”
“Holy shit, we’ve only been here for a second. And I thought your husband would’ve already scared the shits away with his antics.”
The two watched, Nojus tugging on the line, watching as a large shape lumbered towards them…
“You seem distracted lately, Brighid,” Lucil noted, the group walking towards their target of the Ragged Tiger office.
“Yeah!” Paranoia grinned at the attorney. “Though I suppose this being personal might do that—though I have an idea that it might be something else on your mind.~”
Brighid sighed, turning towards the virus as they continued onwards. “I don’t know what else you’re convinced I’m thinking about, but sure. Go ahead.”
“That Texas kid! She’s been popping up in the news lately, and, well, she does sound a bit like what happened to y—”
“How’d you know about that?” Brighid whipped around to glare at Paranoia. She wasn’t exactly an open book when it came to her past, and she certainly wasn’t an open book around Paranoia. The girl in question simply giggled to herself.
“Texas... That’s Paris Aco’s kid, right?” Lucil spoke up before the tension between the two got anywhere bad. “Y’know the, uh, the one who died? That lady?”
“The very same.” Brighid exhaled. Paranoia was right; it was a situation that felt all too familiar to her. A child, wrapped up in the world of delinquents and ruffians, whose mother was taken all too early by something in the shadows she couldn’t hope to reach. It was pretty much exactly what happened to her, actually, so she was bound to have some sympathy about it. “Dunno how much I could do for her now, but...”
“But you’d like to do something, hmm~?”
“Yeah.” Brighid didn’t know why Paranoia took such an interest, but she didn’t question it. Maybe it was her way of ‘getting to know her’. “The last thing I want is to just be another adult pitying her. She doesn’t need that. Lord knows I didn’t.” She chuckles to herself, twirling a lollipop stick between her fingers. “Guess I gotta think on it.”
Lucil remembered the girl coming into the Gallery a few times—those bright strands of green were hard to miss. It’d been before Paris had died, of course. She hadn’t seen the girl since. But Texas had seemed to take a liking to the lawyer. Recent events must’ve been tearing her apart. Seeing someone dear to her suffering from such a loss... Having someone dear to her...
Lucil didn’t quite like how thinking about that made her feel.
“In any case.” Brighid’s expression returned to its usual coldness. “That’s not what we’re here for.”
Raspberry looked on with caution as Nojus reeled in their catch, the dark shape getting closer and closer to the surface…
…And then Nojus’ husband cleared the water, bleeding heavily from the hook in his mouth.
“YOOOOOOOO!” Nojus grabbed Raspberry, still tugging the man closer with their other hand. “Look! Look who I caught!”
“???????” Raspberry’s face was screwed up in utter confusion as Nojus continued the tug of war, until they’d caught their beau and pulled him up onto the dock by one foot. “Hey, uh, I have- let me remove the hook at leas-”
“I’ve got it!” Raspberry had the scissors torn out of his grip, with Nojus handing the scissors to their husband, letting him take out the hook himself.
“You aren’t gonna catch anything edible in there.” Nojus’ husband mentioned as he pulled the hook out. “Besides me~!” He pulled off a stupid pose, splayed out on the dock. “...The water quality’s god awful. It tastes like mining chemicals and fertilizer. Do you guys know what nitrogen tastes like? It sucks. Really bad.” He shook himself a bit.
“What the hell?” Raspberry grumbled. “Nikki said a few friends of hers had a great fishing spot a while back; things were great then!”
“Huh.” Nojus shrugged. “Oh well.”
“She wouldn’t have lied, either.”
“Yeah, sure. Industry, price of progress, all of that.” Nojus’ husband said. “I’m gonna swim some more. Hey, sweetie, why don’t you find some content to make? Meet up here in an hour? I want to raid a bunch of weird boats I found underwater.”
And with that, he dove back into the river, splashing the two once more.
“...So!” Nojus produced a phone, immediately starting up a stream. “Hey everybody! I’m here with my bro, Raspberry Beret, and we’re about to do some ~investigations~ for you all!”
“What?! We?” He shook his head. “What the hell do you mean we?”
“I mean—” Nojus pulled up next to Raspberry. “—we! I’ll need you to pull off some of the camera work bro, make it so I can edit an absolute hit. Also, I don’t know where to do investigations. They’re the hot new thing in the city, right? Poking around, seeing what you can find.” They flashed a grin at the screen. “And I bet with your local knowledge, you can pick out a place that has some juicy secrets to show to the masses, right~?”
“I—”
“You’re the one always talking about trying new things!” Nojus interrupted his protestations.
“Hey—”
“Nikki—”
“You can’t—”
Raspberry stared into the wall of sheer, ebullient readiness to start as many monetizable problems as possible, and broke against it. “...Fine.”
“...Nikki told me about seeing some shady nonsense happening in a dockyard; she thought it was some illegal goods and said that she was worried about it being in the city. She’d be fine with me investigating that. Probably.”
“Great! I’ll start up my intro; lead the way bro!”
Bridgid and Lucil both kept quiet, having reached the area of the docks where they could begin their investigation. They watched from behind a couple crates as a couple of guards moved past, patrolling the area and leaving an opening. Careful not to make a sound, the duo (and virus via phone) began to move—
A bombastic voice shout-whispered, audible even to them, “It’s right in-”
And then as it was cut off, a scratchy yell began behind them.
Brighid whipped around, catching Paranoia in the arms of ｢Outlando d’Amour｣, the girl hissing, face contorted in fury.
“It’s them! It’s them!!” She crowed.
“Who the hell are you screaming about?” Lucil hissed.
“That voice! They’re the livestreamer that beat up Carol! What are they doing out here?” Trapped in the Stand’s arms and unwilling to make a pincushion out of Brighid, she pulled out her phone, showing a screen.
“-at’s up, Nojus Nation?!” Nojus’ smile filled the stream. “We’re at the Ragged Tigers dock, looking at a lot of shady stuff! Well, I’m going to do my part, and do an ‘unboxing’ of all the contraband my good friend’s wife is worried about! Give it up for Nikki!”
Paranoia gnashed her teeth. “OoooOOOOH I want to stab and stab and stab them so~OOoO--OOO MUCH!!!”
Brighid pulled her into an alleyway, eyes wide. Their cover was almost certainly blown by now, and it would make finding anything of use just that much harder. “Lucil!” She hissed over Paranoia’s diatribe about the bloody vengeance and how long she’d e-stalked Nojus for.
“What the fuck’s up with her?” Lucil responded.
“I don’t know, but I think I can’t stop her- Paranoia. Paranoia! Listen to me!”
At an instant, Paranoia stopped, glancing up to Brighid with a cutesy expression. “Ye~s?”
“If I have you and Lucil uh….” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Beat those two to the punch, break all of the contraband in there you can find, will you promise to be stealthy about it?”
“Can I stab Nojus? Plea~se?” A knife had manifested in her hand.
Brighid dropped Paranoia like a sack of potatoes, the girl landing flawlessly. She looked helplessly to Lucil, who shrugged. “Only a little. I’ll slip in while the guards are busy.”
“O~kay!” And with that, Paranoia was off.
Lucil nodded to Brighid. “Best of luck.”
Brighid took a bit to steady herself. “Yeah. Best of luck.”
“Hey, Nojus.” Raspberry drawled, sliding a hand into his jacket.
“Huh?! Sorry, I’m just dealing with my chat! A ‘troll’ has been saying some very nasty things! Engagement is through the roof!”
“What troll- someone saying that they’d stab you?”
“Yes!”
“Holy fuck-”
Raspberry full-body tackled Nojus through the hole in the fence they’d made, a knife slicing right where Nojus’ throat was a moment before, impacting into a nearby crate.
“Hm.” Was Nojus’ only reply.
More notifications popped into their chat.
“Luci says I can’t kill you now…” Nojus read off, Raspberry watching the woman who threw the knife pop into the same mass of cargo they’d fallen into, followed by another. “...but I can totes upstage you. Lots of exclamation points.” They popped onto their side, lounging. “She almost killed me there. Good catch; we’ll see if she’s wrong, hm?”
“How the hell did you get a fucking psycho knife bitch on your ass, Nojus?”
“Shhh. Guards.” Nojus whispered, only now seeming to acknowledge their surroundings. They shrugged. “I dunno. I genuinely don’t know who either of them are. Maybe she’s jealous about my following. Lot of streamers out there trying to make it big.”
“.....” Raspberry stared at Nojus for a moment, then shook himself. “So they’re trying to interfere with your work? I can… I can work with that. Hopefully Nikki won’t mind as long as we don’t get caught.”
Far away, as Brighid turned to do her own mission, despite herself she muttered,
“Open the game.”
Location: A drydock filled with shipping crates. The map is 90x60 meters, with various objectives marked down on it. There are shipping containers (green) which are 2.25m wide, 3m long, and 3m high. There are also wooden shipping crates (orange) which are 1x1x1 meters.
Marked on the map are the objectives the teams need to accomplish. The diamonds contain information on where their containers are, while the Xs are the actual containers.
Goal: Complete the following objectives in this order:
For the sake of the match, the primary goals are fulfilling the objectives completely, fulfilling the objectives with panache, and fulfilling the objectives without being caught. It isn’t enough to simply win the match; it’s to stunt while doing so (either for Paranoia to outdo Nojus or for Nojus to get a really good video). In this situation, being caught includes any evidence that could be clearly traced back to the players; inexplicable occurrences from their Stand abilities do not count. A player could make noise which could alert guards, as long as they manage to stay unseen. Additionally, Nojus streaming will not count as being caught, as none of the guards are subscribed to their socials.
In essence, as long as the players are not spotted and captured in a way that would lead to their arrest, they have some leeway in the clause to not be caught.
The crates whose contents each team needs to destroy will be marked on the map from the very beginning, but they cannot proceed to step 2 without first completing step 1 as per the rules of the match.
The shipping containers and crates not filled with contraband are filled with various dishware. Plates, bowls, glasses, utensils, all the way up to basic pots and pans. The lower down that a container is, the higher quality the contents are; price will vary on the specifics, but one ‘item’ (plate, set of silverware, pot, etc) will generally vary between 20,000₹ on the bottom and 100₹ on top.
Additional Information: Hostile guard NPCs patrol different parts of the map along predictable routes, though they will deviate from their routes to investigate anything suspicious before returning to their routes. Guards start with 322 physicals, a 2 Skill in Patrolling, and a 5 Skill in Increasing Suspicion. At the start of the match, they will give a cursory investigation of an area, but will quickly give up. There is no direct time cap on the match, but as more bizarre things happen around them they will be on increasingly high alert; if one team or another stalls out for a significant amount of time, they’ll almost certainly be found.
While there are a large amount of guards, players may RETIRE some as they feel is necessary. Keep in mind that guards going missing on the job will cause the others to go on increasingly high alert and draw in replacements eventually, and whoever RETIRES a guard is obligated to hide them, or have significantly more heat on them.
The shipping containers are sufficiently expensive as to be un-purchasable by Nojus in the match. The wooden shipping crates are worth 20,000₹ each. Guards are fitted with uniforms (worth 4,000₹), stun batons (worth 7,500₹), and dice for an endemic underground gambling ring (worth 50₹).
Link to Official Player Spreadsheet
Link to Match Schedule
As always, if you would like to interact with the tournament community and be among the first to get updates for the tournament, please feel free to PM a member of our Judge staff for an invite to our Official Discord Server!
submitted by CPU_Dragon to StardustCrusaders [link] [comments]
For Kid Savage, sound around him had begun to dull.
He didn’t hear Moony’s excited chatter beside him, telling him how fine this all was.
He didn’t hear the gunshots firing from just nearby.
He didn’t even hear his own breath, or the heart pounding in his ears.
No, he didn’t hear a thing. All of his senses had faded, as if to focus in completely on the bodies hanging from the power lines. There were more than just the one Moony had thrown, ones he hadn’t noticed until now, all strung up and hanging limp.
His nausea waned.
Suddenly, something broke through that impenetrable silence. Footsteps. Heavy, slow footfalls, just behind him.
The events of that night were already playing back in his head. He knew this part. The end. When he had stared down death, and when slowly, surely, someone else was there. Was he imagining it?
“Been a while. I figured I might see something like this from you.”
No, he was not. That was the voice from back then - the voice that had saved his life. He turned, broken out of his trance, to face Rasna Kaliya. Just like that night. As if he were on a loop.
“Welcome to the land of kings. You want to be a king, kid? You want power? Here it is.”
“Y-You...”
“I heard gunshots.” The ex-leader of Vulture stretched her arms above her head, staring down at the hanging corpses. “And... My favorite food truck was closed.”
“Ahaha, sorry about that!” Moony giggled, placing her hands on Kid’s shoulders, ignoring the way that he jolted at the touch. “As you can see, we were a little preoccupied~! Funky Kitchen’ll be open tomorrow!”
“Hmm.” Rasna didn’t look at her. Kid glanced between them - did Moony know this woman? He’d have to get her to explain later.
“Y’know, we’re actually just about to go get dinner with some, er... Friends. Wanna come?”
“No thanks.” Rasna spun on her heel, making her way back to the building’s stairwell. “I think I’ve seen enough. All four of you... Hah. Nevermind.”
As she left, Moony had the vaguest feeling that she had done something wrong—but it faded in an instant, washed away with blood. That’s right! It’s time for free food!
It's a tie!? With a scores of 75!
| Category | Winner | Point Totals | Comments |
|---|---|---|---|
| Popularity | Honeydew Blue and Ouroboros | 14 (5+0.5+2) - 16 (6+0.5+2) | It was neck and neck the whole way through! |
| Quality | Moonchild "Moony" Lamoreaux and Kid Savage | 24 (8 8 8) - 23 (7 8 8) | Reasoning |
| JoJolity | Moonchild "Moony" Lamoreaux and Kid Savage | 27 (8 9 10) - 26 (8 9 9) | Reasoning |
| Conduct | Tie | 10-10 | Nothing to report! |
“Are you listening, boy?” Ouroboros’s arm landed over his shoulders, shaking him around a bit. “I’m telling you, this story’s a classic! Not many chances to hear tales all the way from Ancient Greece, no?”
He really, really wished he was sitting next to Moony right now. He wasn’t entirely sure what was going wrong with her, but at least she wouldn’t have been so... Like this. They were the only customers in the diner Ouroboros had chosen, the rest probably scared away. He did not like this arrangement. It didn’t look like Moony did, either. She’d had the bad luck of being seated next to one Honeydew Blue, who’d taken a particular interest in the jacket Moony was wearing.
“Uhm...” Moony looked incredibly uncomfortable—it was the most negative emotion Kid had seen from her all night. “Miss, w-would you, er, stop sniffing that? Y-You got the point across the first time...”
Honeydew ignored her, and had now switched back to staring way too hard at Kid. She was still wearing his jacket, for fuck’s sake!
“Anyway, anyway!” Ouro continued his rant, grinning all the while. “Our story begins back in, er, when was it...”
Maybe this was worse than earlier tonight, actually, thought Kid, who wished with all of his heart he had taken the outer seat in the booth.
Scenario: Port Konwar — 1:36AM
Port Konwar, the logistics and transport center of Rākinnagarh: while a large boon to the city’s economy thanks to the trade and industry the area provided, the port itself does not find as much money poured into supporting it as is exchanged within it to the city at large or its trade partners—and what does find its way to the section of the city does little to help poverty levels similar to that in the neighboring Bedtown.
However, while Bedtown holds little economic value beyond the factories that still have life left in them, Port Konwar is the subject of much more economic interest and as such the city has made sure the area is better policed—the military presence in the area also served to reduce the crime rate in public, but behind closed doors and in dark alleyways it still persists.
The docks were a microcosm of all of this: ships came and went with goods for trade, the area built up exactly as needed and not much more, all built to last in utilitarian fashion. An officer walked up to one of the incoming ships as the small crew started to unload their cargo, coming to a halt as he waited for one of the men to toss him his bribe so he could pretend the smuggling they were partaking in never happened—the exchange shadowed by the larger vessel that docked in to another part of the docks to begin loading up with the contents of the next train to arrive at the nearby station.
A series of light, yet hurried steps slapped against the concrete path alongside the docks. Two shadows clung to the nearest brick wall, one lithe and tall, followed by a deceptively average build. The tall one shimmied against the wall, her eyes striking various spots around her surroundings. As another set of steps approached, the figure froze flat, gripping the other one’s shoulder to pull her back. Sweat beaded down her forehead as two men in matching overalls walked past, a sleeping tiger embroidered on their backs. She swallowed a bit of air, hoping desperately that not a single bead of sweat would dare drip off of her face. Her light-haired partner held her breath, trying her best not to move an inch, a monumental task, to be sure.
Once the guards had moved well past the wall, Lucil Caravan gripped her knees as she gasped for air. She didn’t know how long she had been holding it for, but it must’ve been for an eternity, given how sweet the sensation of breathing felt to her at that moment. She looked up to her partner, who had just finished unwrapping a lollipop.
“Hey, Brighid?” Lucil wheezed. Brighid didn’t respond, as she was immediately turned around, peering behind the wall. She must not have heard her.
“Hey,” she said once more. “What are we doing here, again?”
“Weren’t you paying attention, silly?” a voice chimed from inside Lucil’s pocket, causing her to jump a centimeter off the ground. Gripping her heart, Lucil reached into the pocket, pulling out her burner phone. The small, green LED screen illuminated the lower part of her face, which frowned at the sight of a little jumping envelope stuttering across the screen, a white “1” surrounded by a red square. With a sigh, she flipped open the phone, revealing a feminine form on the screen inside. She twirled her purple hair between her fingers while waving a friendly greeting.
“Can you blame a girl for being distracted?” Lucil said as a matter of fact. “We both know Brighid can get a heavy with the details. Hard to keep them all straight.” She shot a look over to the lawyer, who was still taking note of the scenery behind them, jotting something down furiously in her notepad. “Besides, her energy lately has been throwing me for a loop.” Lucil turned back to her phone. “Don’t you find this all a little weird?”
A chuckle sparked out of the phone, its staccato rhythm causing Lucil to wince. “Well, I suppose I can’t blame you,” Paranoia said with an incredibly sad face. “Humans can only process so much information at a time. You should be careful with how much you give them,” she sang, as she made a grand effort to drag the ‘air’ in front of her into herself. “Give them too much…” her form jittered back and forth, with what looked like smoke pouring out of her ears. Once the image stabilized, she wore a big smile, her head tilted slightly askew. “...and their brains will turn into mush!”
Lucil rolled her eyes. “Yeah, sure. Now, are you going to tell me what we’re doing here, or what?”
Paranoia crossed her arms, resting her chin on her left hand. “That dep~~ends.”
“-On?”
Paranoia flickered once more, revealing her to be lying down, seemingly in midair, kicking her legs. “We haven’t really gotten to know each other, have we? We work at the same place, greet the same faces.” A puzzled look plastered itself onto the virus. “But I don’t know a thing about you!”
Lucil looked up from her phone, out into the dimly lit street they had just come from. “Is this really the time?”
“How do you expect me to share such vital information with a stranger?” Paranoia pouted. “After all, you could jeopardize the whole mission…”
Lucil glanced over to Brighid, who still had not moved, and then back to Paranoia with a heavy sigh. They were going to be here a while. “Fine, what do you want to know?”
The sound of lead scratching paper was barely audible, an impressive feat given that Brighid Rhodes was vigorously filling her notepad with information. A combination of current observations mixed with crude maps of what looked to be hallways stretched along the pages, her eyes fixed in a forward-facing axis between the pad and the office building ahead of her. The sign above the entrance matched the uniforms of the workers that nearly passed them by. She had watched them enter the premises, and they still hadn’t left. It was odd for employees to be coming in to work this late at night. Though, as she knew well enough, this was nothing new for the Ragged Tiger Shipping Company.
Memories of just a couple nights before ebbed into her head, causing her pencil to slow to a crawl. Images of late night workers, packing crates with tired eyes, tight, concrete hallways with far too many corners, gunshots whizzing past her head. She crunched her lollipop as she grit her teeth. Her investigation had not gone quite the way she had wanted it to, no thanks to her carelessness. She could have risked everything, scraping barely by through luck’s good graces.
She looked down back at her notes, where she had scrawled three more bits of information onto the page. Names: “Le Bon”, “A. Rex”, and “Notorious”, each one circled incessantly, something Brighid figured she was doing unconsciously. Her stoicism cracked for a second, letting the smallest of smiles shine through. She didn’t leave empty handed, however. Despite the odds, she had gotten these names, pried them from fate’s own fickle hands. It was more than she had gotten in years, something she was quite enthusiastic about. However, she still only had about 3 small pieces of this 1000-piece puzzle. Fortunately, she knew just where to find the remaining 997.
“Do you like music?”
“Uh, yeah. I’d say so.”
The virus’ eyes lit up. “Oh really? What kind of music do you like best? I’ve been getting into hyperpop lately, myself.”
“Yeah? Well, I guess I’m more into heavier sounds,” Lucil shrugged. “A little bit of grindcore, some rock, mainly anything with a grungey sound to it.”
Paranoia contemplated this response, pacing back and forth inside the screen. Suddenly, a lightbulb flashed over her head, one a little too round, a bit too bright. “Oh, what a silly question to ask,” she replied. “I suppose I should’ve known, right? You’re in a band, aren’t you?”
“-what?” All the color left Lucil’s face. What did she say? She found herself short of breath again. At the same time, she felt her heartbeat whir from a steady rhythm to a faster beat, as if it was getting ready for a race.
“W-what are you… talking abou-?” is about all she could get out before becoming a statue. Her eyes were affixed to the small screen, a grainy picture of some sort of trio. She recognized them, of course. The girl in the middle was her girlfriend, Agata. The guy on her left was a part of her band. The girl on the left. She dug her fingernails into her palms. That woman was incredibly familiar, a face she’d recognize anywhere. She looked a bit different, of course. Maybe a bit more mature? It could’ve been the lighting. But the tag under her picture labeled: “Lucil”, left nothing to speculation.
Paranoia tilted her head, a look of intense curiosity stuck to her face. “This is you, right? Your band? You must remember, they only performed just a few nights ago.”
“Yep, that’s me,” Lucil spat out, swiftly clasping the phone shut. She could practically hear her heart pounding against her sternum. She was shaking, violently. Lucil’s eyes darted around her phone, unwilling to stare at it directly. Just what was the point of all that? What was Paranoia getting at? Lucil looked back over to Brighid, whose own statue-like movements brought her back to reality. She shook her head, taking a glance at her notebook, which the lawyer was absent-mindedly tapping with the pencil, rounding out the lead.
“Hey, Brighid,” Lucil called out, reaching a hand to her shoulder. She jolted upon contact, turning around with furrowed brows. “What?!”
“Oh, hey! Sorry about that.” Lucil held her hands up. “Just wanted to make sure you were-”
“I’m fine,” Brighid said, brushing her dark hair behind her ears. Her demeanor gradually dulled. “Are you ready to move?”
Lucil frowned. “I, uh, still don’t quite follow-”
“Of course we are!” a cheery voice chirped from the burner phone. Lucil had half a mind to chuck it. While she contemplated how much noise it would actually make, a porcelain hand shot out from the inside of the phone, followed by an arm. The top part of the flip phone lifted up ever so slightly as a small figure eked its way out of the screen. With the phone fully open, the figure fizzled right beside Lucil, as a full-sized Paranoia draped its arm around her, causing the hairs on the back of her neck to stand straight up.
“After all, we’ve got a murder investigation on our hands. And we won’t find anything by just twiddling our thumbs!”
SPLOOSH!
“Fuckin’ shit!”
“Ahahaha! Well, you’re the one who asked us along! You should have expected a splash zone!”
Nojus sat down, their chair audibly creaking under their weight as they grabbed a pole, fitting some bait onto it and casting the line. They didn’t seem to care about being similarly soaked to Raspberry, furiously shaking out his shirt.
“Is this normal for the two of you?” Raspberry harrumphed, watching Nojus’ husband swim to the middle of the river, then dive underneath.
“What? No! Normally he’d have tossed me in first.”
“...Dammit.” Raspberry sat down himself. “Didn’t take you for a fisher. Nikki would’a come along but she doesn’t like the thought of killing living things.”
“Haha! I’m not!” Nojus announced. “I have no idea what I’m doing here at all—ha!” They tugged on the rod. “Got a bite!” They stood up, nearly pitched out of their seat by the tugging. “It’s a big one!”
“Holy shit, we’ve only been here for a second. And I thought your husband would’ve already scared the shits away with his antics.”
The two watched, Nojus tugging on the line, watching as a large shape lumbered towards them…
“Yeah!” Paranoia grinned at the attorney. “Though I suppose this being personal might do that—though I have an idea that it might be something else on your mind.~”
Brighid sighed, turning towards the virus as they continued onwards. “I don’t know what else you’re convinced I’m thinking about, but sure. Go ahead.”
“That Texas kid! She’s been popping up in the news lately, and, well, she does sound a bit like what happened to y—”
“How’d you know about that?” Brighid whipped around to glare at Paranoia. She wasn’t exactly an open book when it came to her past, and she certainly wasn’t an open book around Paranoia. The girl in question simply giggled to herself.
“Texas... That’s Paris Aco’s kid, right?” Lucil spoke up before the tension between the two got anywhere bad. “Y’know the, uh, the one who died? That lady?”
“The very same.” Brighid exhaled. Paranoia was right; it was a situation that felt all too familiar to her. A child, wrapped up in the world of delinquents and ruffians, whose mother was taken all too early by something in the shadows she couldn’t hope to reach. It was pretty much exactly what happened to her, actually, so she was bound to have some sympathy about it. “Dunno how much I could do for her now, but...”
“But you’d like to do something, hmm~?”
“Yeah.” Brighid didn’t know why Paranoia took such an interest, but she didn’t question it. Maybe it was her way of ‘getting to know her’. “The last thing I want is to just be another adult pitying her. She doesn’t need that. Lord knows I didn’t.” She chuckles to herself, twirling a lollipop stick between her fingers. “Guess I gotta think on it.”
Lucil remembered the girl coming into the Gallery a few times—those bright strands of green were hard to miss. It’d been before Paris had died, of course. She hadn’t seen the girl since. But Texas had seemed to take a liking to the lawyer. Recent events must’ve been tearing her apart. Seeing someone dear to her suffering from such a loss... Having someone dear to her...
Lucil didn’t quite like how thinking about that made her feel.
“In any case.” Brighid’s expression returned to its usual coldness. “That’s not what we’re here for.”
…And then Nojus’ husband cleared the water, bleeding heavily from the hook in his mouth.
“YOOOOOOOO!” Nojus grabbed Raspberry, still tugging the man closer with their other hand. “Look! Look who I caught!”
“???????” Raspberry’s face was screwed up in utter confusion as Nojus continued the tug of war, until they’d caught their beau and pulled him up onto the dock by one foot. “Hey, uh, I have- let me remove the hook at leas-”
“I’ve got it!” Raspberry had the scissors torn out of his grip, with Nojus handing the scissors to their husband, letting him take out the hook himself.
“You aren’t gonna catch anything edible in there.” Nojus’ husband mentioned as he pulled the hook out. “Besides me~!” He pulled off a stupid pose, splayed out on the dock. “...The water quality’s god awful. It tastes like mining chemicals and fertilizer. Do you guys know what nitrogen tastes like? It sucks. Really bad.” He shook himself a bit.
“What the hell?” Raspberry grumbled. “Nikki said a few friends of hers had a great fishing spot a while back; things were great then!”
“Huh.” Nojus shrugged. “Oh well.”
“She wouldn’t have lied, either.”
“Yeah, sure. Industry, price of progress, all of that.” Nojus’ husband said. “I’m gonna swim some more. Hey, sweetie, why don’t you find some content to make? Meet up here in an hour? I want to raid a bunch of weird boats I found underwater.”
And with that, he dove back into the river, splashing the two once more.
“...So!” Nojus produced a phone, immediately starting up a stream. “Hey everybody! I’m here with my bro, Raspberry Beret, and we’re about to do some ~investigations~ for you all!”
“What?! We?” He shook his head. “What the hell do you mean we?”
“I mean—” Nojus pulled up next to Raspberry. “—we! I’ll need you to pull off some of the camera work bro, make it so I can edit an absolute hit. Also, I don’t know where to do investigations. They’re the hot new thing in the city, right? Poking around, seeing what you can find.” They flashed a grin at the screen. “And I bet with your local knowledge, you can pick out a place that has some juicy secrets to show to the masses, right~?”
“I—”
“You’re the one always talking about trying new things!” Nojus interrupted his protestations.
“Hey—”
“Nikki—”
“You can’t—”
Raspberry stared into the wall of sheer, ebullient readiness to start as many monetizable problems as possible, and broke against it. “...Fine.”
“...Nikki told me about seeing some shady nonsense happening in a dockyard; she thought it was some illegal goods and said that she was worried about it being in the city. She’d be fine with me investigating that. Probably.”
“Great! I’ll start up my intro; lead the way bro!”
A bombastic voice shout-whispered, audible even to them, “It’s right in-”
And then as it was cut off, a scratchy yell began behind them.
Brighid whipped around, catching Paranoia in the arms of ｢Outlando d’Amour｣, the girl hissing, face contorted in fury.
“It’s them! It’s them!!” She crowed.
“Who the hell are you screaming about?” Lucil hissed.
“That voice! They’re the livestreamer that beat up Carol! What are they doing out here?” Trapped in the Stand’s arms and unwilling to make a pincushion out of Brighid, she pulled out her phone, showing a screen.
“-at’s up, Nojus Nation?!” Nojus’ smile filled the stream. “We’re at the Ragged Tigers dock, looking at a lot of shady stuff! Well, I’m going to do my part, and do an ‘unboxing’ of all the contraband my good friend’s wife is worried about! Give it up for Nikki!”
Paranoia gnashed her teeth. “OoooOOOOH I want to stab and stab and stab them so~OOoO--OOO MUCH!!!”
Brighid pulled her into an alleyway, eyes wide. Their cover was almost certainly blown by now, and it would make finding anything of use just that much harder. “Lucil!” She hissed over Paranoia’s diatribe about the bloody vengeance and how long she’d e-stalked Nojus for.
“What the fuck’s up with her?” Lucil responded.
“I don’t know, but I think I can’t stop her- Paranoia. Paranoia! Listen to me!”
At an instant, Paranoia stopped, glancing up to Brighid with a cutesy expression. “Ye~s?”
“If I have you and Lucil uh….” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Beat those two to the punch, break all of the contraband in there you can find, will you promise to be stealthy about it?”
“Can I stab Nojus? Plea~se?” A knife had manifested in her hand.
Brighid dropped Paranoia like a sack of potatoes, the girl landing flawlessly. She looked helplessly to Lucil, who shrugged. “Only a little. I’ll slip in while the guards are busy.”
“O~kay!” And with that, Paranoia was off.
Lucil nodded to Brighid. “Best of luck.”
Brighid took a bit to steady herself. “Yeah. Best of luck.”
“Huh?! Sorry, I’m just dealing with my chat! A ‘troll’ has been saying some very nasty things! Engagement is through the roof!”
“What troll- someone saying that they’d stab you?”
“Yes!”
“Holy fuck-”
Raspberry full-body tackled Nojus through the hole in the fence they’d made, a knife slicing right where Nojus’ throat was a moment before, impacting into a nearby crate.
“Hm.” Was Nojus’ only reply.
More notifications popped into their chat.
“Luci says I can’t kill you now…” Nojus read off, Raspberry watching the woman who threw the knife pop into the same mass of cargo they’d fallen into, followed by another. “...but I can totes upstage you. Lots of exclamation points.” They popped onto their side, lounging. “She almost killed me there. Good catch; we’ll see if she’s wrong, hm?”
“How the hell did you get a fucking psycho knife bitch on your ass, Nojus?”
“Shhh. Guards.” Nojus whispered, only now seeming to acknowledge their surroundings. They shrugged. “I dunno. I genuinely don’t know who either of them are. Maybe she’s jealous about my following. Lot of streamers out there trying to make it big.”
“.....” Raspberry stared at Nojus for a moment, then shook himself. “So they’re trying to interfere with your work? I can… I can work with that. Hopefully Nikki won’t mind as long as we don’t get caught.”
“Open the game.”
Marked on the map are the objectives the teams need to accomplish. The diamonds contain information on where their containers are, while the Xs are the actual containers.
Goal: Complete the following objectives in this order:
- Steal information that reveals which cargo contains smuggled goods. (Diamond)
- Destroy the contents of the crates without getting caught by guards. (Xs)
- Exit the map by returning to your starting positions.
For the sake of the match, the primary goals are fulfilling the objectives completely, fulfilling the objectives with panache, and fulfilling the objectives without being caught. It isn’t enough to simply win the match; it’s to stunt while doing so (either for Paranoia to outdo Nojus or for Nojus to get a really good video). In this situation, being caught includes any evidence that could be clearly traced back to the players; inexplicable occurrences from their Stand abilities do not count. A player could make noise which could alert guards, as long as they manage to stay unseen. Additionally, Nojus streaming will not count as being caught, as none of the guards are subscribed to their socials.
In essence, as long as the players are not spotted and captured in a way that would lead to their arrest, they have some leeway in the clause to not be caught.
The crates whose contents each team needs to destroy will be marked on the map from the very beginning, but they cannot proceed to step 2 without first completing step 1 as per the rules of the match.
The shipping containers and crates not filled with contraband are filled with various dishware. Plates, bowls, glasses, utensils, all the way up to basic pots and pans. The lower down that a container is, the higher quality the contents are; price will vary on the specifics, but one ‘item’ (plate, set of silverware, pot, etc) will generally vary between 20,000₹ on the bottom and 100₹ on top.
Additional Information: Hostile guard NPCs patrol different parts of the map along predictable routes, though they will deviate from their routes to investigate anything suspicious before returning to their routes. Guards start with 322 physicals, a 2 Skill in Patrolling, and a 5 Skill in Increasing Suspicion. At the start of the match, they will give a cursory investigation of an area, but will quickly give up. There is no direct time cap on the match, but as more bizarre things happen around them they will be on increasingly high alert; if one team or another stalls out for a significant amount of time, they’ll almost certainly be found.
While there are a large amount of guards, players may RETIRE some as they feel is necessary. Keep in mind that guards going missing on the job will cause the others to go on increasingly high alert and draw in replacements eventually, and whoever RETIRES a guard is obligated to hide them, or have significantly more heat on them.
The shipping containers are sufficiently expensive as to be un-purchasable by Nojus in the match. The wooden shipping crates are worth 20,000₹ each. Guards are fitted with uniforms (worth 4,000₹), stun batons (worth 7,500₹), and dice for an endemic underground gambling ring (worth 50₹).
| Team | Combatant | JoJolity |
|---|---|---|
| Gallery of Wayward Reverie | Paranoia and Lucil Caravan | “What the hell are you jerks talking about! We don’t speak human trash-ese!” Even if horrible bloody murder isn’t quite on the cards right now, you still have to outdo this ‘influencer’ at their own game! Antagonize and confound anyone in your way as much as possible, especially through your management of threats in your way! |
| The Willow Wisps | Nojus Ipolitas and Raspberry Beret | “You think you can pay for this? This suit cost four million lira!” Like you’ll let some small timers get in the way of some hot dollar content. Antagonize and confound anyone in your way as much as possible, especially through your movement and pathing! |
Link to Match Schedule
2024.04.26 23:51 Mickcalei [Amazon] 3-Count 42-Oz Glad GladWare Tall Entrée Food Storage Containers $2.80 + Free Shipping with Prime or on $35+ (Now: $2.80, Was: $7.49)
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2024.04.26 22:12 BearInTuxedo I have been a cult leader for almost 10 years. I lost control of it
Let me start by saying the obvious: I am not a good person. I have no excuse for what I did. 10 years ago I was living on a friend’s couch. I was out of a job, I had no savings, no family. I had just failed my last get rich scheme and was looking for anything to make a quick buck. My friend had less than reputable activities and had just come into ownership of a shipment of crystals. He thought they were valuable but was deeply mistaken. If there is one thing to know about me, it’s that I’m a great salesman. That’s my one skill, I can’t do anything else. If I had the work ethic to hold a job, that could have been my way to success. Instead I was running schemes and failing since I left high-school. So I started selling crystals, “healing” crystals. Funny how just adding one word and some convincing make the price skyrocket. In a month I sold all of it. It made me enough cash to fund my next venture but more importantly, I made contacts.
I wasn’t the only one in that line of business. Some sold stuff like I did. Handcrafted charms, written sutras, blessed water, carved animal bones. Anything could be worth a fortune if sold the right way. That wasn’t where the real money was made though. Mystical gurus, faith healers, spiritual coaches. Those guys were making bank. I went to their gatherings to peddle my crystals and saw how they operated. I wasn’t impressed by any of them. They were sloppy, too obvious. But the crowd effect still made it work. You see, if you manage to have a few people completely convinced, with the right environment, it spreads like wildfire. Peer pressure makes magic happen and then you’ve got a crowd chanting whatever you want them to chant. I saw a bunch of different crooks selling their “philosophy” and the crowds that fervently followed them. I saw an opportunity. This was sales. And if a bad salesman could do that well, who knows how far I could get.
I needed a “product”, a hook. Most of the spiritual fads were covered by one or more goofus in my area so I went with something a bit more obscure. I went dark. Occultism, blood rituals, demonology. I thought this would get me the most desperate sheep, the ones ready to turn to anything to solve whatever problem they thought couldn’t be solved. It worked brilliantly. I knew there were a lot of desperate people in my area but I didn’t think it was this bad. Not a good sign for society but it worked great for me. I used my gains from the crystal sales to buy books and accessories, everything to make me look like the real deal. An mythical occultist with mysterious powers. I dressed the part too. Black robes and all kinds of demonic trinkets. For the first few months, I managed on bluff alone. I started to have more and more followers. I did rituals with them, inspired by the books I got. With some clever positioning, I made it look like the collection of books I had were part of a much larger one. I solved a few of their problems with a bit of cash to the right person and what amounted to basic coaching and counseling. But, for the rest, the only thing I could do was pretend they just didn’t believe hard enough.
After that, things started to get a bit rough. They started noticing that nothing we were doing was actually helping them. I mean burning sage covered in menstrual blood in a cemetery during a full moon might look impressive but it’s not going to stop your husband from cheating on you. I could see trouble brewing. My original plan was to pack up and leave when I would get to that stage. Through donations and membership fees, I had already collected a substantial sum. I had enough to enjoy life for a few months and find something else to do. But I got greedy, I wanted to keep going. A few of my followers were completely convinced I was the real deal. So I used them. I’m not going to give details and incriminate myself. I will let you picture what happened. Let’s just say that demon worshiping fanatics without conscience are great problem solvers.
From that point on, it snowballed. Each “problem” solved by my loyal followers made every single one of them more loyal. They recruited more, solved their problems and they became devout followers themselves. A self sustaining circle. If you don’t take into account the karmic weight of my actions (which I don’t), everything was going perfectly. A fully functioning cult. If you are wondering why you never heard of us, well, blackmail has always been an efficient tool which, coupled with making scapegoats of anyone who left and “cleaners”, kept information about us under control. It also helped that our group never actually had a name. An oversight on my part that actually ended up working in our favor. It made our size difficult to evaluate as groups in different locations tended to use different rituals to identify themselves, making it look like small independent groups instead of one large organization.
At that point, we did what all successful cults do. We build ourselves a compound. I had my own quarters, the size of a luxury mansion with all the amenities you can imagine. Some of the more reliable members of the group had their own room while the rest were living in dorms. The library was as big as I pretended it was when I started. We had probably one of the largest collections of books and occult items ever assembled. As far as I know at least, this kind of thing tends to not be public.
I started delegating all of my work to the most respected members of the cult. This was my goal after all, I could finally reap the benefits of my work. I was almost entirely retired. I could enjoy whatever I wanted. Delicious food, alcohol, women, drugs. Anything I could want was mine. I let the cult run itself and, if you remember the title of my post, that’s where things went wrong.
I don’t believe in the occult, in demons and all that stuff. But my cult did. After all, it worked for them. They followed the ritual and got whatever they wanted. They didn’t know that someone else inside the cult actually did it for them. Sometimes as a part of their own ritual, sometimes as a tribute to the cult. They had the belief. They had the knowledge and tools from the well stocked library. And after I retired, they had the freedom to try and experiment. The fact is, most of what was in those books was nonsense. But for a few, it wasn’t. I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen what I have seen.
For the last couple of years, I rarely met anyone from the cult. Only a few reports from the higher-ups that I barely listened to. A few months ago, I was getting low on supplies which was strange. They religiously kept everything topped up for their great leader. So I cleaned myself up a bit, put on my robes and went to remind them of my greatness. When I got to the door to their side of the compound, I was first surprised by the silence. The place was always buzzing with activity and I could usually hear it far before opening the door. It was confusingly quiet. The second thing hit me when I opened the door, a smell of rot, burning and sulfur. I covered my nose and my eyes started watering. I went back for a bit and I dipped an old shirt with some perfume and tied it up around my nose and mouth to protect myself from the smell.
I walked the hallways without seeing anything at first until I passed in front of one of the dorms. The door had been smashed open, apparently from the inside. It was now embedded in the opposite wall. The thick metal door had been hit with such force that the door frame and part of the wall came with it. I stood there incredulously for a while, considering what might have done that. It looked like a bomb had exploded but without any scorch marks. I took a look inside,only to find it completely barren. I took a few steps in the room, only illuminated by the light coming from the broken door frame. It was the same as when it was first constructed apart from the color of the walls, ceiling and floor. They were now sporting a reddish-brown hue, the color of dried blood. I turned and stepped out of the room, leaning against the hallway wall. I noticed that I hadn’t taken a breath since I got in. I took a deep breath. The smell, the perfume covering my mask mixed with the smell of rot, made me dry heave.
I collected myself and headed down the hallway. There were more dorms that way but I was more anxious about the unknown horrors of the rest of the compound. Better the devil you know as they say, almost literally in my case. Plus this was the shortest path. From what I remembered, there were two more dorms on the way. The first one was still closed. The same heavy metal door had been installed and looked solidly in place. Pushed by some morbid curiosity, I opened the metal flap that was on the door. The same kind that was on prison doors. When I did, the now familiar smell of rot wafted over me. Contrary to the other one, this room was still lit up. There was no movement inside. The bunk beds were cleanly lined up as they were when we first set up the dorms. Each bed was occupied by an unmoving shape. An arm hanging from one of the beds closer to the door confirmed what I was thinking. They had died in that room, a while back from what I could see.
I kept walking and reached the last dorm on this side of the compound. I was expecting the same thing as the last one since the door was still in place but as I got closer, I saw a cleanly cut hole in the metal door. The hole was big enough for a person to go through. I hesitated for a while, wondering if I should just keep going. I had seen the traces of terrible events in the rooms before but nothing gruesome enough to stay burned in my mind. I thought this room would be the same, no risk in taking a quick look. I was instantly proved wrong. I looked through the hole for less than a second and I will never forget the image. A perfectly arranged spiral made of cut up body parts. The center of the spiral rose almost to the ceiling. At the top of the gory pile stood a throne of bone and sinew. All of it was perfectly arranged, perfectly aligned with no imperfections. Each member that was part of it had been cut with incredible precision. It was a gruesome piece of art, carefully crafted. And as good art does, it filled me with emotion. It was beautiful in a way, regal, intimidating. It terrified me that someone or something had created it. I walked a few steps down the hallway before removing my mask and throwing up on the floor.
I put my forehead against the wall, breathing heavily. I stayed like that for a few minutes before deciding to keep going. I had to get out as soon as possible. Considering everything, one thing actually made me more confident. Whatever happened, it was over. The compound was completely silent. The things that caused what happened in the dorms were not here anymore. I reached the end of the hallway and entered the main temple. Strangely, it hadn’t changed at all. I walked to the center as I used to, passing the rows of black pews arranged in a circle around the main altar. The altar was as I remembered, a simple pulpit adorned with symbols and amulets hanging on all sides. On it was an envelope, addressed to me.
The first page got a nervous chuckle out of me. They knew. My faithful disciples knew I was a fraud. I could feel the hatred in the words on that page. It explained in detail the growing mistrust that started from the time the compound was built. How they saw me show less and less effort, focusing more on earthly luxuries. They first theorized that I was testing them to see which of them could proceed without my guidance. It made them work harder at first. I had done such a good job indoctrinating them that it took them a long time to realize what I had done. The page ended with a surprising thank you. No matter what my motivation was, I had given them purpose. I had given them resources to bring forth something bigger than all of us. For these reasons, they would let me live. I had done my part.
From the second page, they explained what had happened since my retirement. The books from my library had some truth in them. At first it was small rituals that helped them accomplish things that could be done as easily by hand. But they learned from it, developed them. They made untraceable poisons, they cursed targets with madness. It helped them increase the number of followers exponentially. After all, they became the real thing. The text that followed explained what happened in the compound. They wrote that they used the dorms and the “pits” as a catalyst to “evolve” mankind.
I read the part about the dorms, eager for some explanation. I don’t know if you know about Kodoku, the poison jar ritual. The idea is that you put one hundred venomous insects inside a jar and when there is only one left alive, its poison will be powerful enough to kill anyone. Well, looks like in the right conditions, it works with humans too. The followers went willingly into the dorms, locking themselves up until one of them “transcended”. The writing explained that the first rituals failed completely. It started some unrest within the community, unnerved by the pointless deaths of their companions. They doubled down and, having learned from the first tries, what followed was a resounding success. They had brought forth entities that defied their wildest expectation, giving them the tools to further their plans. The letter didn’t say anything else about it worryingly.
The next part of the letter talked about the remaining followers, the one that didn’t volunteer for the dorms. As the ritual in the dorms required willing participants, they had to find an alternative. So they made the “pits. Deep holes with a “seed” at the bottom of it. They didn’t explain how the seed was made but I assume it involved more unholy machinations. They forced the rest of the followers into the pits. Some by drugging them, some by threatening, some by force. They kept at it until none were left. Only the most devout, the most knowledgeable were left. They didn’t stay to see if the pits would succeed, it didn’t matter. The ritual was done, the results wouldn’t need them either way. They all went their separate ways. They would rebuild, recruit more followers, each one going to a different place. They would continue the process over and over until they finally brought humanity into its “next form”. The letter ended with the words: “As it started here, everywhere is where it shall end”.
I left the temple by the main door. I was outside for the first time in months. The warmth of the sun was only comforting for a few moments as I found myself in front of two pits. One on my left and one on my right, only separated by a narrow looking path that led out of the cult’s land. The pit to the right was empty. I decided to go around it instead of risking taking the narrow path. I wasn’t wide enough to look safe and taking the way around seemed like a better idea. I walked a comfortable distance from the pit and took a few glances as I moved. I couldn’t see the bottom of it. For some reason, the light seemed to be dimmed by the pit itself, stopping shorter than it should. As I reached the other side of the pit, I saw some tracks leading away from the pit into the surrounding forest. They were deep but rain had made them muddy, making them difficult to identify. They were larger than my own. I followed them with my eyes, curious to see where they started. They came directly from the pit. And were surrounded by impossibly large claws marks at the edge of it.
Understandably, I started moving faster. I would rest when I was somewhere else. But I heard a voice. A call from help coming from the other pit. I approached it to take a look, not completely believing what I was hearing. I wasn’t far enough gone that I would ignore someone in trouble right in front of me. I don’t remember exactly what I saw inside. Even now, my head hurts when I try to think about it. I remember only two things. The first thing is one I would like to forget, like the spiral throne I saw in the dorm. In the pit, I saw an eye. I remember seeing it deep in the pit, seemingly occupying all of it. Its color was changing smoothly, different shades dancing unnaturally. It was looking right at me, its pupil slowly widening. Then it blinked, and I remember running. I ran as fast as could until I reached the fence surrounding the compound. It was a considerable distance for someone in as bad a shape as I was. My heart and my lungs were hurting like hell but I kept running, pushed by an instinct older than man.
After I crossed the fence, my escape from the compound went smoothly. After all, I always expected to be found out at some point and prepared for it. I left the letter there, minus the first page that mentioned me. I hope it helps whoever finds it. I had a vehicle and a change of clothes hidden close by. I remember seeing a large number of police cars going to the compound, luckily at that point I was far enough to not arouse suspicion. I still had access to some of my hidden bank accounts so I bought a bunker far away from anything, stocked up with anything I could ever need. I can stay there for the rest of my life and I probably will. I am sharing my story as a warning. But I realize now that my advice won’t be of any help. I know better than most that people can be tricked. I don’t know what my former followers want but it can’t be good. There are things out there that defy understanding. I hope that none of you get to meet them.
As I said at the beginning, I am not a good person. I played my part in something terrible, no matter what my own goals were. I won’t say I’m sorry. My apologies are worthless at this point. I have no excuses anyway, I acted as I wanted from start to finish. Instead, I will end with this:
Good Luck
submitted by BearInTuxedo to nosleep [link] [comments]
I wasn’t the only one in that line of business. Some sold stuff like I did. Handcrafted charms, written sutras, blessed water, carved animal bones. Anything could be worth a fortune if sold the right way. That wasn’t where the real money was made though. Mystical gurus, faith healers, spiritual coaches. Those guys were making bank. I went to their gatherings to peddle my crystals and saw how they operated. I wasn’t impressed by any of them. They were sloppy, too obvious. But the crowd effect still made it work. You see, if you manage to have a few people completely convinced, with the right environment, it spreads like wildfire. Peer pressure makes magic happen and then you’ve got a crowd chanting whatever you want them to chant. I saw a bunch of different crooks selling their “philosophy” and the crowds that fervently followed them. I saw an opportunity. This was sales. And if a bad salesman could do that well, who knows how far I could get.
I needed a “product”, a hook. Most of the spiritual fads were covered by one or more goofus in my area so I went with something a bit more obscure. I went dark. Occultism, blood rituals, demonology. I thought this would get me the most desperate sheep, the ones ready to turn to anything to solve whatever problem they thought couldn’t be solved. It worked brilliantly. I knew there were a lot of desperate people in my area but I didn’t think it was this bad. Not a good sign for society but it worked great for me. I used my gains from the crystal sales to buy books and accessories, everything to make me look like the real deal. An mythical occultist with mysterious powers. I dressed the part too. Black robes and all kinds of demonic trinkets. For the first few months, I managed on bluff alone. I started to have more and more followers. I did rituals with them, inspired by the books I got. With some clever positioning, I made it look like the collection of books I had were part of a much larger one. I solved a few of their problems with a bit of cash to the right person and what amounted to basic coaching and counseling. But, for the rest, the only thing I could do was pretend they just didn’t believe hard enough.
After that, things started to get a bit rough. They started noticing that nothing we were doing was actually helping them. I mean burning sage covered in menstrual blood in a cemetery during a full moon might look impressive but it’s not going to stop your husband from cheating on you. I could see trouble brewing. My original plan was to pack up and leave when I would get to that stage. Through donations and membership fees, I had already collected a substantial sum. I had enough to enjoy life for a few months and find something else to do. But I got greedy, I wanted to keep going. A few of my followers were completely convinced I was the real deal. So I used them. I’m not going to give details and incriminate myself. I will let you picture what happened. Let’s just say that demon worshiping fanatics without conscience are great problem solvers.
From that point on, it snowballed. Each “problem” solved by my loyal followers made every single one of them more loyal. They recruited more, solved their problems and they became devout followers themselves. A self sustaining circle. If you don’t take into account the karmic weight of my actions (which I don’t), everything was going perfectly. A fully functioning cult. If you are wondering why you never heard of us, well, blackmail has always been an efficient tool which, coupled with making scapegoats of anyone who left and “cleaners”, kept information about us under control. It also helped that our group never actually had a name. An oversight on my part that actually ended up working in our favor. It made our size difficult to evaluate as groups in different locations tended to use different rituals to identify themselves, making it look like small independent groups instead of one large organization.
At that point, we did what all successful cults do. We build ourselves a compound. I had my own quarters, the size of a luxury mansion with all the amenities you can imagine. Some of the more reliable members of the group had their own room while the rest were living in dorms. The library was as big as I pretended it was when I started. We had probably one of the largest collections of books and occult items ever assembled. As far as I know at least, this kind of thing tends to not be public.
I started delegating all of my work to the most respected members of the cult. This was my goal after all, I could finally reap the benefits of my work. I was almost entirely retired. I could enjoy whatever I wanted. Delicious food, alcohol, women, drugs. Anything I could want was mine. I let the cult run itself and, if you remember the title of my post, that’s where things went wrong.
I don’t believe in the occult, in demons and all that stuff. But my cult did. After all, it worked for them. They followed the ritual and got whatever they wanted. They didn’t know that someone else inside the cult actually did it for them. Sometimes as a part of their own ritual, sometimes as a tribute to the cult. They had the belief. They had the knowledge and tools from the well stocked library. And after I retired, they had the freedom to try and experiment. The fact is, most of what was in those books was nonsense. But for a few, it wasn’t. I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen what I have seen.
For the last couple of years, I rarely met anyone from the cult. Only a few reports from the higher-ups that I barely listened to. A few months ago, I was getting low on supplies which was strange. They religiously kept everything topped up for their great leader. So I cleaned myself up a bit, put on my robes and went to remind them of my greatness. When I got to the door to their side of the compound, I was first surprised by the silence. The place was always buzzing with activity and I could usually hear it far before opening the door. It was confusingly quiet. The second thing hit me when I opened the door, a smell of rot, burning and sulfur. I covered my nose and my eyes started watering. I went back for a bit and I dipped an old shirt with some perfume and tied it up around my nose and mouth to protect myself from the smell.
I walked the hallways without seeing anything at first until I passed in front of one of the dorms. The door had been smashed open, apparently from the inside. It was now embedded in the opposite wall. The thick metal door had been hit with such force that the door frame and part of the wall came with it. I stood there incredulously for a while, considering what might have done that. It looked like a bomb had exploded but without any scorch marks. I took a look inside,only to find it completely barren. I took a few steps in the room, only illuminated by the light coming from the broken door frame. It was the same as when it was first constructed apart from the color of the walls, ceiling and floor. They were now sporting a reddish-brown hue, the color of dried blood. I turned and stepped out of the room, leaning against the hallway wall. I noticed that I hadn’t taken a breath since I got in. I took a deep breath. The smell, the perfume covering my mask mixed with the smell of rot, made me dry heave.
I collected myself and headed down the hallway. There were more dorms that way but I was more anxious about the unknown horrors of the rest of the compound. Better the devil you know as they say, almost literally in my case. Plus this was the shortest path. From what I remembered, there were two more dorms on the way. The first one was still closed. The same heavy metal door had been installed and looked solidly in place. Pushed by some morbid curiosity, I opened the metal flap that was on the door. The same kind that was on prison doors. When I did, the now familiar smell of rot wafted over me. Contrary to the other one, this room was still lit up. There was no movement inside. The bunk beds were cleanly lined up as they were when we first set up the dorms. Each bed was occupied by an unmoving shape. An arm hanging from one of the beds closer to the door confirmed what I was thinking. They had died in that room, a while back from what I could see.
I kept walking and reached the last dorm on this side of the compound. I was expecting the same thing as the last one since the door was still in place but as I got closer, I saw a cleanly cut hole in the metal door. The hole was big enough for a person to go through. I hesitated for a while, wondering if I should just keep going. I had seen the traces of terrible events in the rooms before but nothing gruesome enough to stay burned in my mind. I thought this room would be the same, no risk in taking a quick look. I was instantly proved wrong. I looked through the hole for less than a second and I will never forget the image. A perfectly arranged spiral made of cut up body parts. The center of the spiral rose almost to the ceiling. At the top of the gory pile stood a throne of bone and sinew. All of it was perfectly arranged, perfectly aligned with no imperfections. Each member that was part of it had been cut with incredible precision. It was a gruesome piece of art, carefully crafted. And as good art does, it filled me with emotion. It was beautiful in a way, regal, intimidating. It terrified me that someone or something had created it. I walked a few steps down the hallway before removing my mask and throwing up on the floor.
I put my forehead against the wall, breathing heavily. I stayed like that for a few minutes before deciding to keep going. I had to get out as soon as possible. Considering everything, one thing actually made me more confident. Whatever happened, it was over. The compound was completely silent. The things that caused what happened in the dorms were not here anymore. I reached the end of the hallway and entered the main temple. Strangely, it hadn’t changed at all. I walked to the center as I used to, passing the rows of black pews arranged in a circle around the main altar. The altar was as I remembered, a simple pulpit adorned with symbols and amulets hanging on all sides. On it was an envelope, addressed to me.
The first page got a nervous chuckle out of me. They knew. My faithful disciples knew I was a fraud. I could feel the hatred in the words on that page. It explained in detail the growing mistrust that started from the time the compound was built. How they saw me show less and less effort, focusing more on earthly luxuries. They first theorized that I was testing them to see which of them could proceed without my guidance. It made them work harder at first. I had done such a good job indoctrinating them that it took them a long time to realize what I had done. The page ended with a surprising thank you. No matter what my motivation was, I had given them purpose. I had given them resources to bring forth something bigger than all of us. For these reasons, they would let me live. I had done my part.
From the second page, they explained what had happened since my retirement. The books from my library had some truth in them. At first it was small rituals that helped them accomplish things that could be done as easily by hand. But they learned from it, developed them. They made untraceable poisons, they cursed targets with madness. It helped them increase the number of followers exponentially. After all, they became the real thing. The text that followed explained what happened in the compound. They wrote that they used the dorms and the “pits” as a catalyst to “evolve” mankind.
I read the part about the dorms, eager for some explanation. I don’t know if you know about Kodoku, the poison jar ritual. The idea is that you put one hundred venomous insects inside a jar and when there is only one left alive, its poison will be powerful enough to kill anyone. Well, looks like in the right conditions, it works with humans too. The followers went willingly into the dorms, locking themselves up until one of them “transcended”. The writing explained that the first rituals failed completely. It started some unrest within the community, unnerved by the pointless deaths of their companions. They doubled down and, having learned from the first tries, what followed was a resounding success. They had brought forth entities that defied their wildest expectation, giving them the tools to further their plans. The letter didn’t say anything else about it worryingly.
The next part of the letter talked about the remaining followers, the one that didn’t volunteer for the dorms. As the ritual in the dorms required willing participants, they had to find an alternative. So they made the “pits. Deep holes with a “seed” at the bottom of it. They didn’t explain how the seed was made but I assume it involved more unholy machinations. They forced the rest of the followers into the pits. Some by drugging them, some by threatening, some by force. They kept at it until none were left. Only the most devout, the most knowledgeable were left. They didn’t stay to see if the pits would succeed, it didn’t matter. The ritual was done, the results wouldn’t need them either way. They all went their separate ways. They would rebuild, recruit more followers, each one going to a different place. They would continue the process over and over until they finally brought humanity into its “next form”. The letter ended with the words: “As it started here, everywhere is where it shall end”.
I left the temple by the main door. I was outside for the first time in months. The warmth of the sun was only comforting for a few moments as I found myself in front of two pits. One on my left and one on my right, only separated by a narrow looking path that led out of the cult’s land. The pit to the right was empty. I decided to go around it instead of risking taking the narrow path. I wasn’t wide enough to look safe and taking the way around seemed like a better idea. I walked a comfortable distance from the pit and took a few glances as I moved. I couldn’t see the bottom of it. For some reason, the light seemed to be dimmed by the pit itself, stopping shorter than it should. As I reached the other side of the pit, I saw some tracks leading away from the pit into the surrounding forest. They were deep but rain had made them muddy, making them difficult to identify. They were larger than my own. I followed them with my eyes, curious to see where they started. They came directly from the pit. And were surrounded by impossibly large claws marks at the edge of it.
Understandably, I started moving faster. I would rest when I was somewhere else. But I heard a voice. A call from help coming from the other pit. I approached it to take a look, not completely believing what I was hearing. I wasn’t far enough gone that I would ignore someone in trouble right in front of me. I don’t remember exactly what I saw inside. Even now, my head hurts when I try to think about it. I remember only two things. The first thing is one I would like to forget, like the spiral throne I saw in the dorm. In the pit, I saw an eye. I remember seeing it deep in the pit, seemingly occupying all of it. Its color was changing smoothly, different shades dancing unnaturally. It was looking right at me, its pupil slowly widening. Then it blinked, and I remember running. I ran as fast as could until I reached the fence surrounding the compound. It was a considerable distance for someone in as bad a shape as I was. My heart and my lungs were hurting like hell but I kept running, pushed by an instinct older than man.
After I crossed the fence, my escape from the compound went smoothly. After all, I always expected to be found out at some point and prepared for it. I left the letter there, minus the first page that mentioned me. I hope it helps whoever finds it. I had a vehicle and a change of clothes hidden close by. I remember seeing a large number of police cars going to the compound, luckily at that point I was far enough to not arouse suspicion. I still had access to some of my hidden bank accounts so I bought a bunker far away from anything, stocked up with anything I could ever need. I can stay there for the rest of my life and I probably will. I am sharing my story as a warning. But I realize now that my advice won’t be of any help. I know better than most that people can be tricked. I don’t know what my former followers want but it can’t be good. There are things out there that defy understanding. I hope that none of you get to meet them.
As I said at the beginning, I am not a good person. I played my part in something terrible, no matter what my own goals were. I won’t say I’m sorry. My apologies are worthless at this point. I have no excuses anyway, I acted as I wanted from start to finish. Instead, I will end with this:
Good Luck
2024.04.26 19:32 markergluecherry Food-safe alternatives to glaze for bisque ware?
College student trying to scrape together a way to still get some throwing/trimming practice in while it's summer break and the studio is closed. I don't have the money to join a studio/co-op/etc, so that isn't an option.
I have some bisque pieces left over that I never glazed and fired. I'd love to finish them somehow, one of them being a dog bowl as a gift for a friend. Are there any food-safe alternatives to glaze that I could experiment with/try out this summer? Maybe resin or something? I'm not super familiar with my options but the information I'm finding on the internet is confusing and conflicting.
Thanks!!!!
submitted by markergluecherry to Ceramics [link] [comments]
I have some bisque pieces left over that I never glazed and fired. I'd love to finish them somehow, one of them being a dog bowl as a gift for a friend. Are there any food-safe alternatives to glaze that I could experiment with/try out this summer? Maybe resin or something? I'm not super familiar with my options but the information I'm finding on the internet is confusing and conflicting.
Thanks!!!!
2024.04.26 19:32 markergluecherry Food-safe alternatives to glaze for bisque ware?
College student trying to scrape together a way to still get some throwing/trimming practice in while it's summer break and the studio is closed. I don't have the money to join a studio/co-op/etc, so that isn't an option.
I have some bisque pieces left over that I never glazed and fired. I'd love to finish them somehow, one of them being a dog bowl as a gift for a friend. Are there any food-safe alternatives to glaze that I could experiment with/try out this summer? Maybe resin or something? I'm not super familiar with my options but the information I'm finding on the internet is confusing and conflicting.
Thanks!!!!
submitted by markergluecherry to Ceramics [link] [comments]
I have some bisque pieces left over that I never glazed and fired. I'd love to finish them somehow, one of them being a dog bowl as a gift for a friend. Are there any food-safe alternatives to glaze that I could experiment with/try out this summer? Maybe resin or something? I'm not super familiar with my options but the information I'm finding on the internet is confusing and conflicting.
Thanks!!!!